Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had taken him a few moments to reattach his torso to his body. Even with Nurf anchoring him and giving him a once-over to ensure he was in one piece, Harrison still felt off. With his stomach lurching and heart pounding, he wondered if even though his body was intact, his insides were still trying to float away.

Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel as the bus bumbled over the uneven ground. The camp was fading into the distance, but Harrison could still see David standing right beneath the Camp Campbell sign, wildly waving the campers goodbye. Although Harrison was too far away to see, he was sure the camp counselor’s eyes were growing misty.

The bus turned a corner and they were out of sight completely. Harrison quietly sighed and sat back down in his seat, turning his back to the camp for what was hopefully the last time this year.

He didn’t want to sugarcoat things; that place was a nightmare. He was confident he wouldn’t miss that wretched place. It was a terrible excuse of a camp and worst of all, he hadn’t been able to learn anything new about his powers.

Well, other than the fact that he was capable of doing the ritual spell for the Quartermaster. The experience left him haunted and jumpy for days, and every time he did a trick, it sputtered into red, green, blue, and yellow sparks. It took him three days to grow desperate enough to confide in the Quartermaster for help.

The elderly man had mumbled nonsense about the Irish, went into his store, and came out a few minutes later before chucking some strange charm at Harrison. “You better put this under your pillow tonight, boy,” he mumbled. “It’ll keep them nightmare spirits away.” Although he wasn't too keen on handling anything the Quartermaster touched and was wary of any advice he gave him, Harrison was willing to do anything to get his magic working again.

He woke up the next morning to find the charm was gone and his magic was back to normal.

He and the Quartermaster never spoke of the experience again.

It was incredibly frustrating having only himself to rely on when it came to improving his magic. Everyone was only interested in seeing card tricks or having him pull objects out of his hat. Tricks like that were child’s play, really. He learned how to do those before he turned seven. But anything more complicated or extreme was always met with criticism or denial. No one was willing to spot-check him in case the trick backfired and they found themselves throwing up doves or having their fingers turn into tiny snakes.

(That was only one time! He was able to reverse the spell- which surprised him just as much as everyone else- and it wasn’t like he hurt Nikki. In fact, she was delighted with the new change and looked disappointed when her fingers turned back to normal.)

At least he wasn’t lonely during this trip. Despite considering himself an outsider, he was grateful he was able to make some acquaintances during these three months.

One of those acquaintances, Nerris, sat next to him on the bus. She was boasting about the epic oneshot adventure she was planning this summer, describing her plans in great detail along with sweeping gestures and wiggling fingers. Half the words she said barely made any sense to Harrison. Like, what the heck was a spell slot? Or a Pallild Elf? Nevertheless, he was content to sit and listen to her rambles.

He found it almost amusing how they used to hate each other. Harrison remembered seething to himself at night, genuinely upset by Nerris’s mere existence. He was angry, mentally declaring that he was the superior magic kid to reassure himself nearly every day. Swearing to himself that no matter what, he and Nerris would never be truly friends.

Of course, now, watching her finish her description and look at him with wide, excited eyes, asking, “What do you think, Harrison?”, he was glad to have met her, to get to know her, to be comfortable enough to even call her his friend.

“I’m sure you don’t need nearly that many fighting sequences,” he replied. In all honesty, despite knowing little to nothing about Dungeons & Dragons or LARPing in general, he thought her idea was really cool. But he couldn’t give it to her that easily. “And why not have the NPC be a bard instead of a warlock?”

Ever since Nerris found out Harrison was pretty decent at playing the lyre during Nikki’s death day, she was a bit more impressed by his talents.
“I guess I was wrong about the whole dwarf thing, you would be a fantastic bard!” she told him that day.

Upon finding out what exactly a bard was, Harrison was nothing but ecstatic about his newfound discovery, always opting to be one whenever she roped him into one of her adventures.

Nerris groaned at his suggestion and lightly punched his shoulder, but he could see she was struggling to force down a smile. “That’s ridiculous! The whole point is that you’re trying to investigate the pact that was made between the warlock and their Patron. The bond was weakening, and they noticed that there were some dark elements being mixed with their usual magic. Bards don’t usually rely on other sources for their magic, so it wouldn’t make sense.”

Harrison scoffed dramatically, doing his best to make a fuss. “But bards are cool!” he argued. “Maybe the oneshot could be about a struggling bard trying to find others like him but no one appreciates his talents.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting.” The bus hit what seemed to be the seventh pothole in ten minutes, sending everyone flying out of their seats. They all remained unfazed. After all, this wasn’t the first time they were subjected to the Quartermaster’s subpar driving skills. The man had a driving license which he had shown the kids in an attempt to reassure them, but the legality of it was questionable.

Nerris pushed up her glasses and Harrison adjusted his hat as she continued to speak as if nothing happened. “Besides, bards are stupid! They have nowhere near the amount of grace as a paladin or mage. Heck, I’d even pick a ranger over a bard any day! All bards do is smile and play the lute and hope they roll high enough on charisma to charm their way out of things.”

“Well, Harrison the Artful-” the name of Harrison’s roleplay character he had begrudgingly made up when Nerris pressured him to make one. “-is nothing like that. He’s smart and witty and uses his talents to show what a powerful illusionist he is. And he does not play the lute.”

“Yeah, well, whatever! I’m still not changing a thing.” She slumped in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask you for help in the first place.”

Harrison copied her pose and crossed his ankles. “Fine! I think that my ideas were too good for you anyways!” He slouched further, staring intently at the peeling and torn seat in front of him.

He was interrupted by the bus violently careening to the side. Harrison was thrown against Nerris, squashing her against the window. She along with a few other campers squawked out in alarm as they could feel one side of the bus became airborne. In a panic, Nerris shouldered Harrison away and out of reflex, he shoved her back. The two found themselves in a scuffle, tackling and pushing each other around until the bus landed back on all six wheels and was no longer in danger of tipping over. For now.

Once things settled and they broke apart, they barely had time to calm down before Nerris snorted. All it took was for her and Harrison to lock eyes before they burst into hysterical fits. They both looked up to see the Quartermaster glaring at them before ducking their heads behind the seat, quieting their giggles and shushing each other.

The ride from then on was relatively smooth, sans a few more potholes. Seriously, it was almost as if the old man was trying to hit them all on purpose.

As the trees around them were starting to grow few and far between and more signs of civilization began to pop up, the ride became a lot smoother and slower, presumably because the Quartermaster couldn’t exactly go speeding around with careless pedestrians everywhere.

Though everyone on the bus would agree that if it weren’t for road safety laws, the ancient man would’ve hit at least five people by now.

When their quiet chatting eventually slowed down to a comfortable silence, it wasn’t long before Nerris rested her head against the window and passed out.

Harrison stifled a yawn and took off his hat, placing it on his lap and resting his hands on top of it. Closing his eyes, he decided now would be a good time to take a nap. It must’ve been about only an hour since they left camp, but he was starting to feel the effects from this morning’s camp activities catch up to him. The additional last minute scramble to get all of his stuff packed up probably didn’t help.

The thought of missing his stop was the least of his concerns. The place where he was going to get dropped off was still 2 hours away. Besides, it’s not like the Quartermaster was irresponsible enough that he would leave a kid on the bus while they were asleep. Right?

Actually, he would rather not think about it.

Feeling his eyes grow heavy, he barely noticed he was starting to lean against Nerris before he felt everything turn black.

There was a stiffness in his neck when he woke up and fingers prodding his face. He sleepily swatted the hand away and cracked open his eyes. “Hwha-?” he mumbled, groping around until he found his hat and put it on. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“You fell asleep on me,” Nerris said softly. “I didn’t wanna wake you up, but we’re in my neighborhood. I thought that, I dunno... that you would want to be awake when I had to go.”

Harrison blinked rapidly and did his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes, trying to ignore the embarrassment of accidentally falling asleep on his friend. The two of them weren’t the most touchy people ever with the exception of play fighting. But Harrison would be lying if he said he minded this casual contact. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, I’m still kind of groggy.”

Nerris didn’t respond to that, instead digging in the pockets of her jeans before fishing out a slip of paper. “Look, I know that we already exchanged phone numbers, but I still wanna give you my Photoglam handle. Just in case you need another way to contact me.”

Harrison accepted the paper, staring at the carefully printed out TheCutestSorcererxx before pocketing it. “Thanks, Nerris. I’ll do my best to message you as soon as I can.”

What he didn’t expect was for her to suddenly wrap her arms around him. He quickly reciprocated the hug, failing to ignore just how wonderful it felt. She didn’t let go after a few seconds, and he couldn’t help but realize this was not only the first time they ever hugged, but also the first time in a while he’s been hugged by someone.

He wasn’t allowed to dwell on the thought for long as the bus screeched to a halt in some suburban neighborhood and their hug was cut short.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, getting up and out of his seat so Nerris could shuffle out and grab her stuff from the ceiling racks.

“I’ll miss you too.” Together, they collected all of her luggage in record time, but stayed in the aisle to look at each other.

With no other way to delay their inevitable separation, he lunged forward and wrapped her up into one last hug. This one didn’t last nearly as long, but he treasured it just as much.

Once they separated, Nerris hoisted her duffle bag over her shoulder and gripped the handle of a rolling suitcase in her other hand. “I promise that we’ll hang out at least once after camp ends,” she said with a beaming smile. He couldn’t help but smile back as she made her way to the front of the bus, looking behind her shoulder the entire way. “You better call! Or I’m making your character die in the first five minutes the next time I DM!”

“Same goes to you! Or I’ll magic your dice set and make them disappear forever!”

He could tell she was trying to walk as slowly as she could without delaying the bus too much, but it was over all too soon. Before he knew it, Nerris was on the doorstep of what Harrison presumed was her house, enthusiastically waving at him. He waved back, not stopping until the bus turned a corner and she was out of sight.

It reminded him of that afternoon when the bus left Camp Campbell for the last time this year. Although this time, he was upset to be driving away. Even as the bus left the neighborhood and started to merge onto the highway, Harrison still kept his eyes locked outside the window.

Time seemed to blur for Harrison. It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour, but at some point, the bus pulled up at a familiar looking bus stop and it was his turn to leave. He mutely gathered his bags and made a point not to spare the Quartermaster even a glance as he walked off the bus for the last time and sat down on one of the benches.

By fishing out an old pocket watch he kept in his vest, he could see that his parents were scheduled to pick him up in just a few minutes. Making sure his belongings were close and within arm's reach, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with Nerris’s Photoglam user on it.

That alone was enough to make him smile. He had a friend just a phone call away, someone he could hang out with when school started again. He swung his legs and pocketed the paper as he looked around to try to spot his parents' car. He hummed a song to himself, making up the melody as time went by and ignoring the strange looks he was getting from people passing by, no wonder wondering why some kid was sitting there by himself.

Before, he was dreading the end of camp. He had expected to have an utterly boring school year with no one to talk to as he navigated the halls of his school alone.

But now?

It looked like things weren’t going to be so boring after all.

Chapter Text

After five minutes, Harrison was still alert and on the edge of the bench as he intently scanned the streets for his parent's car. After ten minutes, he drew his belongings closer and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He fiddled with his gloves to take his mind off his growing worries. After fifteen minutes, he had to take off his gloves, his palms sweaty and hands shaking.

After the camp’s first trip to the big city, Gwen immediately pulled all the campers to the side once they gleefully recalled their wonderful trip to her. She spent the rest of the day educating the campers about the dangers of the city, and they all realized the city wasn't bright and beautiful like they thought it was. Between teaching them how to stay safe, she chastised David about how stupid and careless he was.

Don’t talk to strangers, was one of the first rules Gwen told them. The place was full of creeps, and it was hard to know someone’s true intentions. It was better to be safe than sorry in any situation.

The bus stop was in a more rural part of his county. Even though he drove past it multiple times before, everything seemed so much bigger and frightening when he was away from the comfort and safety of his car. He never felt so vulnerable and exposed as he sat down by himself with no one to look after him.

With these thoughts plaguing his mind, he only provided a nod when a lady approached him to ask if he was okay. He gave her a shake of his head, this time paired with a forced smile when she asked if he needed any help.

When she left, he opened his watch again to check the time. It had been seventeen minutes, and he was starting to wonder if his parents would pick him up at all.

Did they lose track of time? Maybe they just forgot about him entirely. Or maybe Harrison accidentally transported himself to an alternate universe where he doesn't exist, and the people who were supposed to be his parents were living a content life where they didn’t have to worry about picking up their son from camp. Maybe in this universe, his brother never disappeared, and the three spent their lives peacefully without Harrison.

He picked at a scab on his palm he got not too long ago when performing a new trick. The trick required him to collect a stack of cards after spinning them around his head a few times. When he gathered the cards in mid-air, one of them flew too fast and cut his hand. This didn’t faze him. It wasn’t like it was the first time he hurt himself while doing magic.

He began to wear gloves to not just prevent any future injuries but to hide the scars already there. He would rather have people think he was weird for wearing gloves year-round than have to explain that many of the injuries were from rabbits nearly biting his fingers off when he tried to pull them out of his hat.

Staring at his hands and inspecting all the cuts and scrapes he had accumulated over the years was grounding. They were records of all the practice he put into his work, signs that he was doing his best. Although it wasn’t something he was necessarily proud of, they were a part of him. Eventually, the anxiety worming in his chest dissipated as he traced over the marks, recalling the story of every one of them in his head.

He was outlining the shape of a burn on his wrist- acquired when he tried to make flames take the form of different objects and tripped while doing so- when he heard someone call his name.

His heartbeat skyrocketed and a chill ran over him before he recognized who it was. One of his neighbors, Mrs. Jenson, was speed walking across the street wearing a cocktail dress and heels with her husband in tow behind her. She didn’t bother with formalities, immediately ordering her husband to gather Harrison’s belongings.

“Your parents asked us to pick you up,” she explained, urging him to quicken the pace as they made their way to the car. She tutted, and Harrison didn’t have to turn around to know she was shaking her head with disapproval. “Honestly, what scatterbrained people they are! I mean, having to rely on your neighbors to pick up your kid?”

“They might’ve been busy,” Harrison lamely replied, growing more uncomfortable with every passing second. He pulled his gloves out of his pockets and put them back on.

“I’m sure they were. Don’t get me wrong, darling, your folks are lovely people. But they’re far too nervous, shaking and quivering at every inconvenience. You would think all the vibrations have knocked a few screws loose by now. Look both ways, honey.”

They crossed the street and Mrs. Jenson unlocked the car before urging her husband to put all the bags in the trunk. Before he could, Harrison reached up and nabbed the smallest bag at the top, the one containing all of his magic supplies. Mr. Jenson didn’t say anything; this meant he had less weight to deal with now.

“I have to be at a meeting in forty-five minutes,” Mrs. Jenson announced. “We haven’t got any time for dawdling.” Harrison watched her flip down the sun visor to apply mascara while he buckled himself, setting his bag on his lap.

He heard the trunk slam shut and Mr. Jenson climbed into the driver’s seat, his wife finishing up her mascara and tossing him the keys as he got in. Within a matter of seconds, they found themselves out and onto the road faster than they entered.

It seemed like Mr. Jenson was flirting with the speed limits as they zipped across the city. Harrison could've sworn they were inches away from driving over a curb at one point. But compared to the erratic bus ride he endured this afternoon, it was like smooth sailing.

“Ross, would you be a dear and start the laundry when you get back home?” Mrs. Jenson asked, digging around in her makeup purse. “I haven't had the chance to do it yet.”

“Already started it while you were finding your shoes,” he said, briefly turning his head to the side to give his wife a small smile. “And I was planning on doing some dishes before I make dinner.”

Mrs. Jenson sighed happily and gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek which only made his smile grow. “You’re a lifesaver, hun. I’ll help you with cleaning the bathroom after I rest from my meeting.”

Harrison gazed out the window and tried to block out the almost sickeningly sweet comments the couple in front of him were making. If they weren’t taking the familiar route to his house, he would’ve thought they forgot about him. He felt awkward, almost as if he was interrupting something just by being there.

Besides feeling out of place, he also felt wistful. When was the last time his parents ever acted like that in front of him? Not in a long time, that's for sure. He could faintly remember a time when he was really little and his dad would catch his mom by surprise while she was cooking. He would sneak up behind her and hug her. She would playfully scold him for scaring her, then drop whatever she was doing to turn around and kiss him. This caused a little Harrison who would keep his mother company as she cooked to gag loudly as he was subjected to this exchange. When his dad heard these noises, he would stride over to Harrison and scoop him up before peppering the top of his head with kisses as Harrison squealed with delight and tried to struggle out of his arms.

“Oh, Harrison,” Mrs. Jenson piped up. “Welcome back from camp."

Harrison mentally shook himself out of the memory and took a moment to register what Mrs. Jenson said. The saccharine memory made him feel bittersweet, but he didn't allow himself to dwell too long on it. "Thank you, Mrs. Jenson.”

"Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes.” The best time he had in ages. But he didn’t want to spark up more conversation with the woman than necessary.

“Why, that’s wonderful! Did you learn anything new?”

“A few things.” His flame towers could now reach a height of seven feet, something he was never confident enough to try even in his background.

“Did you ever get homesick?”

“Sometimes.” He’s been homesick long before he knew he was to be sent to a summer camp, constantly longing for the days when everything was normal and he didn’t feel like a stranger in his own home. When his parents didn’t leave the room the moment he entered. When he didn’t have to wait until dinner was over before finally feeling like it was safe enough to step out of his room.

“Sounds like someone is a Chatty Chester today.”

When her sarcastic comment was left with no reaction, she huffed and uncapped a tube of lipstick.

The rest of the trip was silent. When they got to Harrison’s house, Mr. Jenson hopped out of the car and helped Harrison unload his things.

“It was lovely seeing you again, honey,” Mrs. Jenson called, her voice faint as she stayed in the car. Harrison mumbled a response in acknowledgment, giving her a half-hearted, 'you too,' in return.

After Harrison and Mr. Jenson carried all of Harrison's bags to his front porch, Mr. Jenson carefully set them down and faced Harrison. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together.

"Tell your parents I said hi, yeah?" he said. Harrison nodded, and Mr. Jenson awkwardly clapped him on the shoulder.

“Dear, we’re going to be late.”

“Be right there!” Mr. Jenson gave Harrison one last nod before rushing back to the car. The couple sped off before he could even blink.

Harrison stood on his doorstep for a minute. Hesitant to ring the doorbell, he practiced one of the breathing exercises he learned at camp, worrying at the top button of his vest. He tried to swallow the lump that grew in his throat, took one last deep breath, and jabbed the doorbell.

The bell buzzed. He waited with bated breath.

Nothing.

He decided to ring it again.

Still nothing.

Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he could see their car was still parked in the driveway. Maybe they were asleep?

Before he could ring the bell again for the third time, he heard the lock turn and the door slowly open just a crack. He instantly recognized his dad’s face. His eyes were already large, but they seemed to widen even more at the sight of him.

“Harrison?” The door opened a few more inches, but his dad stayed in place.

“Hey, dad! I’m back!” Harrison grinned, though his expression immediately fell when his dad only gave him a faint smile in response. If you can even call it one. It looked more like a grimace. His dad avoided eye contact and stared warily at his bag of magic supplies.

Harrison slung his bag over the other shoulder. His arms were starting to hurt. “Is mom home?” he asked.

“She’s…” His dad trailed off. He closed the door, and Harrison almost cried out in alarm. What the heck? Did his dad lock him out!?

Before he could panic any further, his dad returned. Harrison had to take more deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. “She’s busy. It’s best if you don’t disturb her.”

"Oh." Harrison lowered his gaze, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. "Okay."

"Yeah..." His dad inhaled sharply and took a step back. "How about you come inside?"

Harrison struggled to carry all his luggage at once, but his dad made no advances to help him. With his backpack on, his magic bag slung over one shoulder, and his free hand dragging a duffel bag behind him, he hauled himself over to the stairs before dropping all his bags.

Taking a break to catch his breath, he looked up and noticed his dad had closed the door but kept a hand on the knob. There was a crease between his eyebrows. He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking ready to run at a moment’s notice. Harrison waved his hand in what he thought was a passive gesture, but his dad jumped back and his grip on the doorknob tightened.

Harrison immediately dropped his hand. The scrutinizing gaze of his dad burned into the back of his head as he continued to stumble up the steps.

When he finally reached his bedroom, he all but kicked down the door before dropping everything in his arms and flinging himself onto his bed. His back ached as his body relaxed and pain flared up at the base of his neck, no doubt from the weird position he must’ve been in during his nap.

After being away from his room for so long, coming back felt like hugging a friend you haven’t seen in a while; weird, but welcoming at the same time. He ran a hand over his bedsheets, still neat from before he left for camp. When he inhaled, he could smell the citrusy detergent his mother liked to buy.

Lifting his head, he could see the rest of his room was undisturbed except for a couple of things on the other side of the room. The other bed that was parallel to his had its sheets changed. On the desk beside it, figurines which used to lay in a pile were now standing in organized rows.

He started to pay attention to these things, the little differences that started popping up last year. Little things like clothes that used to be thrown carelessly on the ground were now folded and put away. Toys were organized and despite not being used, the sheets were regularly washed and replaced. All things he knew were done courtesy of his mother.

This wasn’t something new. Before the Accident, she would clean up the small messes her children left behind, claiming that seeing any disturbances in their room made her anxious. It was a nervous tic and her compulsion to be neat that influenced her children to be clean and orderly by habit. Harrison didn’t like seeing his mother stressed, so he did his best to keep his room straight. He didn’t complain when she invited herself in to wipe off some dust or to stack a stray pack of cards by number and symbol. He didn’t mind, it wasn’t as if he had anything to hide. And it wasn’t like he had much privacy in the first place. He had to share a room with his brother, after all.

But without his brother to make messes after their mother tidied things up, the other side of the room was slowly losing life. It almost felt like a hotel room from how pristine and untouched it was. Instead of fading into the background, it was now much more obvious to him that his mother was coming into his room to clean.

He longed for the days when he could stare at his brother’s rumpled bed at night and pretend he was still there. Before, he could tell himself that maybe he woke up and went to the bathroom, or persuaded their parents to let him stay up for ten more minutes to watch TV.

Dang it, it was getting hard to breathe. He sat up and furiously scrubbed at his eyes, his vision blurring.

Once his sight cleared, his attention was caught by the closed computer on his desk. His dad gave him his old computer a few years ago when his boss gave him a new one. Of course, he did have to share it with his brother, but having access to all the magic tutorials and videos he could find was worth the wait.

This reminded him of the paper safely tucked away in his pocket.

Desperate for a distraction, he booted up the computer and took out the paper.

The first thing he noticed Nerris’s profile was her profile picture. It didn’t show her face like he thought it would, instead only focusing on her elf ears. Taking a quick scroll through her profile, it didn’t look like she posted her face at all. Most of her pictures were showing the costumes she made and any works in progress.

One video was shot from the neck down. Nerris was brandishing a sword and twirled it around in an experienced manner. He could tell it was purely for show, for using those techniques in actual fights would be highly impractical.

It was entertaining, and Harrison even found himself in awe at some of the things Nerris made. Eventually, he scrolled too far and got a pop-up menu that told him he had to log into Photoglam to continue.

He never made a Photoglam account before nor ever thought about making one. But hey, there was always a first time for everything.

He thought it was a good idea to do what Nerris did and not give away his identity. This was going to be his first social media account, and he didn’t feel comfortable with having strangers know his name.

When Harrison clicked the sign-up button, he immediately put TheArtfulIllusionist, as his username. Then he paused. He liked how trippy it looked with all the l’s and i’s put together like that, but if they had matching usernames, would Nerris think he was trying to copy her?

He continued anyways and went ahead to put in a password. He was probably overthinking. And if Nerris didn’t like it, he could always change it, right?

As soon as he verified his email, he followed Nerris and continued to scroll through her account, this time liking any posts he found especially captivating. One post showcased a dark red glittery cloak he was fond of, and he posted a comment. ‘looks good :)’

A few minutes after he commented, he got a notification.

TheCutestSorcererxx wants to message you. Accept message?

Harrison clicked yes and a new menu popped up.

TheCutestSorcererxx
heyyyy, harrison right? i see you made an account :D
i like your username :3

TheCutestSorcererxx
thank youuuu
it’s kinda weird seeing someone interact with my older stuff tho >w<

TheCutestSorcererxx
nonono no it’s totally okay!! i’m glad you like my stuff :D
but maybe don’t look any further than the cloak, the rest of my stuff is SUPER old

Before he could type another message, there was a knock at his door and it opened. Standing there and once again peeping through the crack was Harrison’s dad.

“Your mother and I want to talk to you.” His voice was authoritative, but his shoulders were raised defensively and he was looking everywhere but Harrison. When he saw the open computer, his eyes narrowed. “What’re you doing on that?”

“Hm?” Harrison turned the screen around and showed Nerris’s profile. “My friend from camp gave me her Photoglam account and I made an account so we can talk. Look, she posts all this cool-”

“Are you going to be posting any private information online?”

He looked at his dad incredulously, taken aback. “What? No.”

“Are you going to be talking to creeps?”

“Of course not!”

“Can I assume that you know basic online safety and trust that you won’t meddle with dangerous or… unsavory things?”

Harrison made a face. “Yes, dad. I won’t be stupid.”

“Good. Just making sure.” His gaze drifted to the ground, and he backed up to close the door. Harrison got the impression that he didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to. “We’ll be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

As soon as the door closed, Harrison rested his head on the desk and slowly exhaled. He had a vague idea of what this was going to be about; whether or not he learned how to bring his brother back.

He’s been dreading this conversation. It was inevitable that he would have to talk to his parents about his progress by the end of the summer, but the thought of doing so made him sick. What was there even to tell? That he still couldn’t figure out how to bring his brother back? That he was a failure? That he was so incompetent as a magician that at this rate, they might never see his brother again?

To stall for time and to control his nerves, he changed out of the clothes he’s been wearing for most of the day and switched to a t-shirt and shorts. He still kept his gloves on so he would have something to fidget with.

When he went to the kitchen, he found his parents quietly talking. His mother was stirring a pot of what smelled like corn chowder and his dad was standing beside her slicing a baguette. The sound of his footsteps alerted his parents, and his mother whirled around and shrieked with alarm, ducking behind her husband. The wooden spoon was trapped in her hands in a white-knuckled grip.

“Oh! Harrison!” Though she pulled away, she still lingered near her husband. “You’re back! How was camp?”

“It was okay,” he replied. His mother had a smile on her face, though it appeared fake and strained. She looked so small with her arms drawn to her body and her shoulders raised to her ears. Seeing her so frightened was making him feel guilty, and heat rose to his face.

The stove timer beeped. Harrison decided to distract himself by opening a nearby cupboard to take out bowls and glasses to set the table. That seemed to trigger everyone else to help pitch in to serve dinner. As his mom was carefully pouring the soup into the bowls and his dad was arranging the bread slices in a neat row, Harrison went to fetch the utensils.

He turned the spoons he collected around in his hands. Looking up, his mother just put the pot back on the stove and his dad finished displaying the bread. This would be the perfect time to show off his skills!

“Hey, mom! Dad!” His mother jumped and his dad spun around. Harrison brandished the spoons and held them high above his head. “Look at this!”

He felt the familiar tingling sensation as his magic came to life. Energy buzzed under his skin and his hands started to glow faintly. He laid the spoons out flat in his palms. They vibrated for a moment before they started to float.

In the background, he could vaguely hear his mother cry out in alarm. Whether his dad went to comfort her or not was unknown to him. Right now, all of his attention was on the spoons.

Levitation tricks were almost like second-nature to him at this point, provided that the items weren’t too heavy. Yet, sweat beaded on his forehead as the spoons drifted through the air until each one landed in separate bowls.

“Ta-da!” He cut the energy connection and did jazz hands. For such a simple action, he was panting.

“Why, Harrison! That’s…” His mother inched her way to the dining table. “... a lot better than last year!”

“Yes! No broken plates this time!” his dad added, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “I see you learned a thing or two at camp.”

For a moment, he was delighted. This was the first time in a while his parents showed any reaction that wasn’t fear or distrust. His hope extinguished when his dad mentioned camp. Here it comes…

“I don’t want to beat around the bush so to speak, but have you had any luck with… y’know?”

Harrison sat down at the table and toyed with the tips of his gloves. “Well, I was able to practice as much as I wanted to. And I did learn a few new things! I can aim my tricks better, and at one point I was able to make fire rings-”

“Great job,” his dad interrupted. “Glad to see that you’re improving. But are you able to bring him back?”

“I don’t know yet.” Harrison stirred his soup around. “I’ve been trying to reappear small objects before I can work on bigger ones.” He did not mention the last time he did that successfully, the egg came back smashed. On Nerris’s head. That was not a fun day.

“Well, have you tried? You might be able to bring… him back by now.”

“You can say his name,” Harrison mumbled. “S’not like he’s dead or anything.”

Bad move. His mother let out a choked sob, covering her mouth with her hand. “I need- I need a moment,” she stammered, pushing her food aside and running out of the room.

“Wait, mom-” Harrison was about to follow her before he saw his dad shake his head. Oh god, that was a terrible thing to say. His eyes burned and he fixated on a pen stain on the table that was suddenly extremely encaptivating.

The silence was deafening. Harrison abandoned his soup and took off a glove to pick at a slice of bread. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His dad didn’t offer any response. He tried again. “I tried every day. I did everything that I could think of, but nothing worked.”

Still nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his dad was resting his elbow on the table and balanced his head in his hand. His eyebrows were knit together, a sign that he was thinking.

“I know we all miss Theodore,” he mumbled. “and I know that you’re trying your best.”

“I am,” Harrison mumbled, discreetly rubbing his eyes. “but I just can’t!”

His dad picked up his spoon again but started idly stirring like Harrison did earlier. “Do you think you can… god, I don’t know how this whole magic thing works. But do you think you can… try some more?”

Harrison pushed back his seat. His appetite was gone, and all he wanted to do was go to his room. “I’ll do whatever I can,” he promised, picking up his bowl and putting it in the fridge. He’ll eat it for breakfast. “Can I go to my room?”

“You may.”

Before he left the room, he saw his dad was still in the same position. It was almost unnerving with how still he was sitting. Without wasting another second, Harrison rushed out and ran up the stairs.

The moment he was back in his room with the door shut, he let out a shuddering gasp. He had managed to keep himself mostly composed during dinner. But as he climbed onto his bed and threw the covers over his head, he was unable to stop himself from crying. His body heaved with every sob and he shoved his face into his pillow to muffle his cries.

A part of him wished that his parents would notice how suddenly he left and would try to find him. That same part of him waited for the sound of their footsteps to ascend the stairs. It waited for a knock on his door, a soft voice asking him if he was okay.

His wish never came true.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days were a blur for Harrison.

Every morning he scarfed down breakfast before immediately jumping into his work. He stayed in his bedroom, only going outside to eat or use the bathroom. He would occasionally run outside if he felt he needed a bigger place to perform.

Whenever he ran into his dad during his brief breaks, they exchanged awkward looks. At least once a day, his dad would ask him for any progress, and Harrison promised he was working on it. It was a vague answer, but Harrison didn’t want to admit he was failing at the one thing his parents expected from him. Yet, it satisfied his dad enough that he didn’t press any further and scurried away to another room as soon as the conversation was over.

His mom was far more distant. While his dad tried to be subtle about it, she outright left the room whenever he entered. If she was cooking and he wandered in to get something, she had her eyes trained on his every move. It stung to hear her sigh with relief when he left.

She seemed to be angrier than before he left for camp. She had a shorter fuse and got frustrated easily.

Doors were shut more harshly, dishes were put away more forcefully. He heard a shout from the kitchen one day, and when he raced down the stairs to see what was the matter, he saw his mother furiously scrubbing at a pan, the bottom caked with burnt matter and the smell of smoke lingering in the air.

His dad took over the cooking for the next couple of days.

It wasn’t just the things that went wrong that frustrated her. She was also getting angry at Harrison.

One time when she overheard Harrison telling his progress to his dad- which, face it, wasn’t much- she stormed into the room and glared at Harrison.

“Are you even trying?!” she screeched. “You’ve been doing magic for so long! Why isn’t he back? Why can’t you bring him back?!”

Harrison ran to his room. He didn’t do any magic for the rest of that day. He couldn’t conjure so much as a spark, breaking down as he recalled what happened. That was the first time his mother yelled at him like that.

He had messaged Nerris, hoping to find some reassurance.

TheCutestSorcererxx

what are you talking about?

you’re the only person I know that actually has magic lmao

TheCutestSorcererxx

i mean

yeah i’d say so :3

but why are you asking?

TheCutestSorcererxx

aww, i’m really sorry about that :(

but if it makes you feel better you’re the best magician that i know

TheCutestSorcererxx

shhhhh it’s the thought that counts

The rest of the evening was spent chatting to Nerris and, when she had to go, rereading their old conversations.

A few hours later, he heard a knock on his door. Tentatively opening it, he was greeted with a bagged cookie from a bakery the family frequented. There was a note in his mom’s handwriting. I’m so sorry.

His mother never yelled at him again. In fact, she seemed to stop talking to him altogether. Harrison knew she felt unimaginably ashamed for lashing out like that. Seeing her so broken and lost was unlike her. It was almost unbearable to see the state she was in.

The guilt was too much at times. He began to make more of an effort to ignore his parents, and the number of interactions dropped from a small handful of times to maybe once or twice on a good day. He pushed himself beyond his capabilities, determined to do something right for once.

The thing was, Harrison had no idea what he was doing.

Admittedly, the past couple of days were more like experiments than anything.

He had made his brother disappear as he would with any other object; put the subject under a cloth, say a few words, and tear the cloth away with a dramatic flourish. But then what? He didn’t know what to do next.

The closest he ever got was when all the campers had to take care of the platypus eggs.

Although devastated that Omlé got smashed and terrified that he made Nerris mad, Harrison was still extremely proud of himself. He did it! He made something reappear!

Filled with inspiration, he had begun to obsess over trying to make more items appear.

Rocks, pinecones, abandoned trays of mashed potatoes. Anything Harrison could get his hands on, he used to practice. At one point when all the campers raided the kitchen in a protest against the Quartermaster’s cooking, Harrison found a carton of eggs. Making sure no one was looking, he hid it in his suit vest and sneaked out to stash it in his tent. After all, if a platypus egg worked last time, what about a chicken egg?

Luckily, Preston was a good tentmate and didn’t question the appearance of the eggs. However, he did request that Harrison wouldn’t use them as ammo the next time he performed.

“Tomatoes, I can understand,” Preston had told him. “But eggs? I simply CANNOT fathom what will happen if yours truly gets even a singular bruise! How will I preform with such GHASTLY blemishes!?”

For some reason, Harrison found he had more luck with eggs. He started with nine, and two of them returned. Although none of them were intact, he was still delighted at his success.

His high spirits didn’t last for long. As Harrison reflected on his progress, a horrible realization dawned on him. If anything he brought back was destroyed, what would happen to his brother? The thought of accidentally harming, or worse, even killing Theodore was too much to handle.

It was the one thing preventing Harrison from trying to bring him back right away. He wouldn’t even attempt to until he could bring back everything he vanished in one piece.

Anything Harrison could find in his room that he considered expendable was used to practice. He decided to use eggs again but didn’t feel comfortable with taking more than two or three from the fridge. Only one of them came back in the end. He couldn’t avert his eyes as he watched the broken egg slowly drip out of his hand and onto the hardwood floor.

It was a bit tricky at first to figure out what he had to do or say to retrieve items. He found it easier to focus on bringing things back if he painted a mental image of putting them in a specific spot. He envisioned a pocket in the fabric of the universe, safely tucked away from anything that could harm the items. With a concrete spot in mind, it was easier to ‘find’ the object and try to retrieve it.

After days of nonstop practice, a glove came back unscathed. Harrison pumped with air with his fist. It caught on fire, and he yelped with alarm before trying to extinguish it.

The next thing he tried was a plate of half-eaten food. He meant to use just the food but accidentally made the entire plate disappear instead. When it came back, it was shattered.

Harrison collapsed to the floor shortly after that, eyelids heavy and body heaving. Exhaustion finally caught up to him. A look at his alarm clock told him it was past one am. The last time he remembered taking a break was during an early lunch at around seven pm. Had he been working for that long?

Almost as if a spell had been broken, he finally acknowledged just how worn out he was. Lead seemed to coat his limbs and it felt like there was something lodged in his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

In a bout of panic, he struggled to get up. When he clutched his bedpost to support himself, he hissed in pain.

Ripping off his gloves, he found that his hands were red and shaking. He gently poked his palm, retracting his finger as his hand ached from the touch.

Magic always took a toll on his body one way or the other. After all, you can’t create energy from nothing. He expected himself to feel a bit tired after performing a trick, or even as if he was the one to pick up an object and transport it to another room as opposed to his magic doing it for him. But he couldn’t think of a time when it hurt so much that even trying to struggle into his gloves was agonizing.

He gave up and threw the gloves on his bed and looked back at the mess of ceramic that used to be a plate. One more spell shouldn’t hurt.

Cleaning up the shards was easy enough; he didn’t have to think much about it. After all, he was a master at dissipating items. The pain that followed afterward, however, was excruciating. His hands felt even worse, throbbing as if they were on fire, and he held them against his body.

He headed for the kitchen, his mind unusually blank. While he was there he would wash his hands and see if they had anything he could use to soothe his hands. Maybe while he was at it he could get a cup of water.

To his surprise, the faint sound of voices could be heard as he neared the stairs. Why were his parents still up? Shouldn’t they be asleep by now?

Harrison ignored how hypocritical his question was and focused more on slinking down the stairs, skipping the ones that made a noise. He gingerly held onto the railing with the tip of his fingers for some sense of balance.

Halfway down, the conversation became somewhat audible. He could only pick up bits and pieces, and it wasn’t enough to decipher what they were talking about. He did hear his name mentioned and was immediately intrigued. Were they talking about him?

With his original mission to treat his hands and get water forgotten, he took extra care to watch his step. When he reached the bottom, he accidentally stepped on that one creaky floorboard at the end of the staircase and cringed as it groaned under his weight. He was quick to retract his foot. Holding his breath, he strained to focus on the conversation and almost sighed with relief when the voices never faltered.

Eventually, he crept to the kitchen and peered around the corner. His parents were sitting at the kitchen table, cups placed in front of them.

His dad occasionally took sips from his as he listened to his wife talk while she gripped onto her mug.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she hissed. “Why isn’t he back by now? He should be!”

“Cecilia, maybe we should talk about this tomorrow,” his dad interjected. She slammed her hand on the table.

“But why?!” she wailed. “We sent him to that magic camp! For three months! He should’ve been able to do SOMETHING at the end of it!”

“You’re going to wake him up,” his dad warned, and Harrison was suddenly hyperaware of where he was right now. He ducked behind the corner and crouched down, ready to bolt if anyone noticed he was there.

His mother continued to rant, albeit a lot quieter. “The camp said it was guaranteed that he would be a skilled magician by the end of the summer. But nothing’s happened! Is he lying?”

“You know he wouldn’t-”

“Oh, God! What if he is? What if he’s trying to hide that he can’t bring him back!?”

“Cecilia-”

“God, we’re never going to see Theo again, aren’t we? We lost one son, and now we have a sorry excuse for a magician in his place!”

“Cecilia!”

“If his powers are so great, then why can’t he do anything good with them!?”

Harrison’s breath hitched, and he clasped a hand over his mouth. His palm stung. He heard his mother start to sob.

“I just miss him so much,” she whimpered.

There was silence for a few beats. Harrison wanted nothing more than to go back to the comfort and security of his room. But he couldn’t move, paralyzed by what he just heard. His eyes burned, and he held his breath to stop the sob that built up in his throat.

“I do too, but you know that isn’t true.” Harrison could easily imagine his dad getting out of his chair to stand beside his wife, rubbing her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. “The Harrison thing. That his powers aren’t amazing.”

“I know…” She gasped. “What did I just say? I didn’t mean any of that! Oh, Jon, I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course not! God forbid I do!”

“Then it’s fine. I know you miss him. We both miss him.” His dad’s voice started to waver. “But we can’t do anything about it.”

His mother’s cries gradually faded into the occasional sniffle. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “that something will happen and he’ll hurt us. Or himself.”

“I know.”

“There really isn’t a rulebook available when you realize magic is actually a real thing and your kid has powers.”

“I wish there was.”

“Yeah.” She laughed wetly. “But how am I supposed to support him when I don’t know how this whole magic thing works?”

“I have an idea.” A chair scraped against the floor. His dad must’ve sat back down. “Remember that kid from camp Harrison talks about? Nered or Nessie or something. The boy-” There was a moment of hesitation. “Girl? The kid with the weird ears.”

“Yes, I remember. Why?”

“It seems like they’re good friends. Before dinner, Harrison showed me the Photoglam account he made so they could talk. And I talked to their parents when we sat next to each other during the play. They seem like decent folks. And the dad is kind of nerdy-”

“Kind of?”

“Very nerdy. And he kept on looking at Harrison with this… amazed look whenever he performed magic.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“What if we have Harrison stay at their place for a bit? It can be for a few days at least before school starts. Kinda like an extended sleepover.”

“I don’t know…”

“Think about it. We can relax for a couple of days and figure out what we’re gonna do. And Harrison will be with people who are able to properly look after him.”

“That’s… not a bad idea.” There was a moment of silence before his mother grunted. “Ugh, my tea’s cold. How long have we been talking?”

“I don’t know. We should probably continue this tomorrow.”

“Alright.” His mother sighed. “Thank you, Jon. I swear, I would be running around the place like a hen without her head if it weren’t for you.”

That got a laugh out of his dad and Harrison took it as his cue to leave. He didn’t look back, making little noise in his frenzied dash.

He ducked into the hall bathroom and turned the cold water to the quietest setting possible. He let his hands run under the cold water as he processed everything he just heard.

That was definitely not a conversation he was supposed to hear, and he was already regretting listening in. His mother’s confession of not meaning anything bad she said about him did little to reassure him. Were his parents giving up on him? Just like that? Yes, he had to admit that the thought of being able to spend more time with Nerris was exciting. But why were they so willing to drop him off at a stranger’s house?

Were they secretly sick of his presence? Were they willing to do anything just to get rid of him? None of this made any sense. After all, if they really loved him, then wouldn’t they try harder to be good parents and love him no matter what he did?

It was all an accident. He didn’t mean to make his brother disappear and to cause all of the drama and despair that followed afterward. If he could bring his brother back with a snap of his fingers, he would’ve done so ages ago.

His hands were getting cold. He turned off the faucet and stared at the vacant space beside him.

“Abrakadabra,” he whispered, snapping his fingers.

Nothing happened. He should’ve expected that.

The coast was clear when he opened the bathroom door, and he tip-toed back to his room. The alarm clock caught his eye, and he was surprised to see that it was almost 2 am. Seeing the time reminded him how drained he was. The adrenaline left over from sneaking around before rushing up the stairs wore off, and he stumbled to his bed.

His gloves were waiting for him. He balled them up and chucked them across the room in an unexpected fit of anger. A part of him that sounded similar to his mother nagged him to put them away properly, but he climbed into bed facing his wall instead.

His thoughts were too loud, as if someone hit the unpause button from when it was suspended earlier. The conversation kept replaying in his mind. It was relentless. His body begged for sleep but his mind refused.

And now we have a sorry excuse for a magician in his place!

Is he lying?

He should’ve been able to do SOMETHING!

He shuffled onto his back. In his current position, he could see one of the posters hung up on his wall. It was hard to see in the dark, but he did make out two bright torches on the cover. He forced himself to focus on them.

He didn’t know how long it took, but it felt like hours before sleep finally overcame him.