Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

That same mantra had been looping in Jesse’s head for what felt like days.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

His mind was blank otherwise, having zeroed in on his determination to keep going instead. To keep pushing through this twisted, sprawling foliage in the hopes that eventually, it will thin out to reveal someone, anyone, anything.

Will it ever? Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

His eyelids were heavy, his head pounding a steady rhythm against his skull, his ears ringing the way a gunshot carries through the air. His breath came in ragged gasps, a persistent, drilling ache shooting through his chest with every stuttered inhale. He limped forwards, no idea where he was going, just letting his one good leg drag him wherever it would take him.

How much longer? Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

Searing pain snaked through every nerve like fervent flames lapping at his body, ripping through his side with every step, his hand shakily clutching at the wound and feebly applying pressure in a desperate attempt to keep his blood inside his body. His other arm hung dead, fingers numb and stinging from the bitter cold, limply grasping at his sword. It was more for his peace of mind than his actual safety. After all, in this state, he has no chance against even the weakest zombie; he’s too exhausted and too close to incapacitation to outrun them anymore.

How long has it been? Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

He hasn’t run into anything in a while now. A sliver of hope emerges from the absent static in his brain.

Am I nearly there? Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

Where “there” was, he had no idea. It had been pitch black for ages, stars glaring down at him in an almost taunting fashion.

Or is that just my vision? Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

He wrestled with his fading consciousness, zombie-like in his movements, the relentless barrage of white-hot agony knocking him sick. As much as his battered body would’ve liked him to give up, to drop to his knees and bleed out in the middle of who-knows-where, some sick determination or animalistic instinct of self-preservation kept him going. It felt cruel, inhumane. But Jesse limped on, numb to the world, legs stumbling onwards endlessly. Going, and going, and going.

Too tunnel-visioned to take notice of anything around him, he tripped over something on the forest floor, catching himself with his bad leg. Ripping excruciation sliced through him from his oddly-bent bone to his blood-soaked side, dragging a horrid, ragged yelp from his throat. His eyelids flickered shut, brown eyes teary and totally vacant, consciousness ebbing and flowing in strength.

Jesse stopped walking for the first time in hours, suddenly acutely aware of his sapped energy, staying perfectly still and fighting down a gag as he waited for the pain to fade.

It eventually ebbed away, though ever-present and not nearly quickly enough. He felt his consciousness slipping, vision starry and near pitch black.

Am I dying?

Tentatively, Jesse tried his legs again, taking one careful, achingly slow step. His bad leg was much worse for wear, having been violently jolted by his whole body weight, so he resigned to just dragging the sickening dead weight behind him. A violent, nauseating shiver coursed through him, a brutal combination of pain and the icy wind that ghosted over his exposed skin. His vision began blinking out again.

Don’t pass out.

Forcing his eyes open, he just managed to make out a blurry shape in the distance through tears and fuzzy vision.

A light.

A moving shadow.

A silhouette, steadily approaching.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he was just vaguely aware of his heart hammering harder, struggling to stay caged within his bruised ribs. His fight or flight was out of the question, nervous system too frayed to respond. He stopped in his tracks with a jolt, a tiny voice in the back of his head half-smothered by fatigue and delirium screaming at him to choose.

Fight, and risk doubling his injuries.

Or run with one working leg.

Both would take the last of his strength, those final reserves that would keep him going, at least for a little while longer. He faltered at the thought, eyes fluttering shut before snapping back open, blown pupils wildly darting around like a hunted animal.

Don’t pass out.

He paused, sucking in a hollow, rattling breath, fear and paralysis turning his depleted blood to ice, solid in his veins, pounding in his head. His one good leg braced itself; to run or to launch him forward, Jesse wasn’t sure.

The figure drew closer, features unidentifiable in the low light and blurred vision. Jesse’s ears were ringing—screaming, even—far too loudly for him to hear anything else. A person, a zombie, another bandit, he had no idea. All he could tell was that whatever it was, it was taller, and surely in far better shape.

No chance, he thought distantly. The resignation sparked something in him, a final ember of that fire that once kept him moving, and moving, and moving.

Shakily, with all the final dregs of his strength he could muster, frost-bitten fingers curling around the hilt, he tentatively pointed his sword at the figure. It recoiled slightly, raising its arms into the light in some gesture of docility or surrender. Its hands were pale and unmarred, unmistakably human.

Still, Jesse raised his arm above his head and swung.

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Lukas slammed his pen on the desk, running a hand over his weary face.

It was only two o’clock in the morning and he was already feeling the effects of his lack of sleep. Lukas cursed under his breath, regretting his decision to pull another all-nighter. The dark circles under his eyes were becoming more noticeable recently, a stark greyish tint against his already pale skin.

Internally reminding himself of the need to push through and get this work done, he downed the last of his coffee in one fluid motion, wincing as the cold liquid hit the back of his sore throat.

His gaze travelled over the stacks of paperwork and numerous, once-organised files, before catching a glimpse of something foreign buried beneath them. Curious and numb with boredom, he gently worked it out of the pile, careful not to topple the documents, and ran a scarred hand over the tattered cover.

It was an old journal, one of many containing the details of every adventure and trip he’d ever taken. Lukas’ brow furrowed slightly, eyes creasing in the corners at the memory. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d ended up on his desk. Maybe he’d slipped it into a file by mistake, or dug it out of a drawer in search of one of his newer works. Those were far more polished, his writing style professional and fine-tuned by years of practice.

He thumbed through the pages, catching glimpses of crude sketches and hastily scrawled notes. It was a nostalgic reminder of his eventful past; wistful joy creeping into his smile at the sight of the familiar passages. It was an old friend, the tentative first chapter of his passion for writing.

But deadlines had to be met, and reminiscing on his wild twenties wasn’t going to get his work done any faster. With a newfound irritation, he stuffed the journal into a drawer and glared down at his desk, strewn with papers and coffee stains that glared right back up at him.

Lukas groaned, leaning back in his chair.

Running Beacontown wasn’t always this bad. Sure, there were builds to repair and disputes to resolve and new construction to be done. And there was always those goddamned papers. But this was the consequence of prioritising a novel over the planning of their founding anniversary, which was always a headache even without the procrastination.

Lukas closed his eyes, feeling the beginning of a headache creeping into his brain. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, running his ink-smudged fingers over the scarred skin.

This is your own fault, the archer thought, heaving a resigned sigh. Someone’s gotta do it.

A few beats passed, the dead silence making Lukas’ skin crawl. An idea—probably not a smart one—formed in his mind as he stretched, muscles still sore from helping out with yesterday’s repairs to the library after a rogue creeper snuck past their defences. He rose from his chair, reaching for the jacket that hung from his armour stand.

A break couldn’t hurt.

Bundling himself in the garment, a long, tan trench coat, he slipped into his winter boots and stepped out of the door. His cat, curled into a neat little ball on the sofa, lazily raised his head in acknowledgment.

“Won’t be long, Dewey.” He murmured, voice scratchy with exhaustion. “Just going for a walk.”

Dewey offered a judgemental chirp in reply. Lukas shrugged sheepishly.

“I’ll get it done. Just need to clear my head first.”

Satisfied, Dewey lowered his head back onto his paws as Lukas slipped out of the door.

The bitter chill was immediately noticeable, nipping at his cheeks and causing his breath to billow out in frosty clouds. The archer shivered, rubbing his hands together before stuffing them into his pockets.

Leaning against the railings on his makeshift porch, he absently gazed up at the stars. They hung in haphazard constellations just beyond the horizon, passively blinking back down at him. Below them, the forest that marked Beacontown’s border, a sprawling, overgrown mess that almost always had a mob around every corner. Also known as Dewey’s favourite place to chase chickens. Lukas hummed bemusedly at the thought, mind wandering.

Of course, he’d chosen to live on the outskirts of town deliberately. It was far quieter than the bustling, lively centre, though the chatter usually carried on the breeze anyways. In that moment, though, it was totally silent, the usual bustle softened by the blanket of night, the only sound being the careful whistle of the wind.

Isolated, quiet. The perfect atmosphere for focus, Lukas thought. And here I am. Not… focusing.

He shook it from his mind, fixing his weary blue eyes on the horizon.

It was quite scenic, too. His house was just high enough to catch glimpses of the rolling hills that framed the skyline. Wildflowers crept in from the abundant forest in flashy little posies, and the street lamps were bright enough to light your way, but just low enough so as to not overpower the soft glow of moonlight that cradled each petal. In the mornings, gentle amber beams would spill over the distant mountains and filter through the foliage, patterns intricately woven like golden lace, leaving a delicate dapple across the autumnal leaf litter and lush grass.

Lukas could practically see it, the mere thought of the sun being almost warming.

Ideal, considering I’m chilled to the marrow. At what point is procrastination just… totally not worth it?

He shrugged it off, fidgeting with his frostbitten fingers, beginning to daydream about the spring. It was only autumn—a surprisingly cold October for Beacontown—but Lukas was already fantasising about watching the snow melt over fresh flowers and feeling the weak sun cut through the arctic breeze.

To Lukas’ dismay, his reminiscence was unceremoniously cut short by a horrid sound—some kind of wretched, strangled cry of a wounded animal—emerging from somewhere in the woods.

He startled, eyes wide, darting around for the source. Exhaling hard in a weak attempt to steady his newly racing heart, the archer instinctively reached for the crossbow and bolts resting against the wall of his house; a recent weapon of choice.

Stumbling down his front steps, laboured breaths spilling forth in an icy shroud, he methodically loaded a bolt into the device, fingers stiff and shaky with the glacial cold. Quickly weighing up his chances of attracting mobs (surely no zombie could sound so pained?) Lukas ultimately decided to try his luck, calling out into the shadowy boscage.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

He briefly humoured the idea that it was just Radar dropping his pickaxe on his foot again before reluctantly pressing onwards through the vegetation.

Lukas wasn’t sure he could open his eyes much more. The streetlamps’ beams only carried so far into the forest, and with the sheer, piercing volume of the sound, the archer had assumed the source was a lot closer to the entrance. Still, he internally cursed himself for not bringing a torch anyway, though he wasn’t sure even that would carry far into this specific part of the woods.

Taking care not to trip over brambles, he made a mental note to delegate some of Beacontown’s labour towards clearing it up a little.

Stopping in his tracks, Lukas' attention turned towards another sound only a few feet from him, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. A heavy shuffling—likely the source trying to similarly pick their way through the undergrowth—and a laboured, heavy panting.

Okay, very much alive, then. I’ll cross zombie off my list.

Still, Lukas readied his crossbow, smooth engraved wood growing hot in his now-clammy palm.

“Hello?” He tried again, a little more wary this time. The source limped closer before grinding to a total halt. Lukas backed up just in case, the last effort of the distant lamps and the delicate bluish moonlight just managing to silhouette the figure.

Short, hunched, and violently shivering, the glint of a weapon in their grasp. Unmistakably human.

The whites of their eyes were just visible in the faint gleam, wild and ringed red. The surge of their breathing turned stark white before them in the rimy air, sounding terribly raspy from a closer distance. Whoever it was, they certainly weren’t of sound mind. Lukas edged a little closer before stopping, hearing the figures panting grow gradually more frantic.

He vaguely registered a foreign shuffling, not realising the figure was raising its weapon until he caught a flash of his own wide-eyed reflection in the frosted blade.

Lukas let his crossbow fall to the moss-blanketed floor, slowly raising his hands.

“Woah, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He fought to keep his voice level, wrestling with the realisation that he was a little too unarmed, and a little too far from his home than he would’ve liked.

The blade trembled between his eyes, unsteady and uncertain.

“Are you okay?”

Those wild eyes flashed again, a hoarse cry tearing itself from the figure’s throat before it swung.

The clumsy swipe missed Lukas’ cheek by an inch. Just managing to pull himself away from its downwards trajectory, he quickly yanked his crossbow out from the undergrowth, stumbling backwards out of shock.

Something felt off about this interaction; it didn’t seem planned—this stranger clearly had no group—hell, they can barely keep their sword straight. Still, they swung blindly, staggering forwards, each movement followed by a coarse, laboured groan.

The archer knew not to fight to wound. He simply kept backing away, blocking the occasional miscalculated stab with the prod of his crossbow. The figure kept trying, relentless in their efforts, hacking at thin air with a sword that, in the slightly better lighting, Lukas realised was diamond.

Would be impressive if they knew how to use it.

A particularly poor swing allowed Lukas to disarm the figure. Hooking the lathe around the blade, he wrenched it free from a surprisingly weak grasp (were they holding it in one hand?), letting it clatter against the brambles with a piercing rattle. He breathed out a slight sigh of relief; his trench could barely fight off the cold, let alone a single lucky hit from a diamond sword.

Clearly finding some kind of animalistic determination, the figure launched themselves forward with an unforeseen speed, driving a fist straight into Lukas’ ribs with a panicked yelp. Dull pain shot through the archer, forcing a winded groan out from his chest. He kept walking backwards—a little more urgently now—knocking his shoulders into what felt like every tree in that cursed maze. He refused to break eye contact with the stranger, as the growing light gradually illuminated a few more of their features.

In between blocking one-armed punches, Lukas tried to take notice of their filthy brown bomber jacket and the dried blood that stretched across their knuckles and the side of their head. He still couldn’t make out their face; the figure was glaring straight up through a furrowed brow, their shadowy gaze trained on every weak point in Lukas’ body.

Blow after blow, each and every one weak, frenzied and driven by pure instinct and surely terror, the pair marched on. The archer’s reflexes were still sharp, deflecting most of the inelegant right hooks with the polished wood of his crossbow before they made contact with his unarmoured body.

In some stroke of luck, Lukas managed to catch a fist aiming straight for his throat, grasping the frigid skin tightly at the wrist, holding it hostage above the strangers head. He dragged them further out of the woods, bracing himself for their left fist to soon collide with his abdomen in response.

That blow never came, the figure instead screeching and panting as they struggled to break free, stumbling as they fought to match Lukas’ pace. It didn’t take much effort to overpower the stranger—if he didn’t know any better, Lukas would’ve assumed he was restraining a feral child.

Those knuckles between my ribs felt like a man’s, all right. The archer winced internally, eyes trained on the figures face, growing clearer as the vegetation thinned around them.

Dark curls. Facial hair. So much blood.

With a strangled sob, the stranger managed to pull themselves free, the force of the motion knocking Lukas unsteady. He stumbled backwards, just managing to catch himself in time to avoid another close call aimed for his sternum. Out of sheer alarm, he swung at the stranger with his crossbow, the stirrup connecting with their shoulder with an uncomfortable crack that echoed around the clearing.

Wait, echo?

The archer briefly glanced at his surroundings, thankful to spot his house only a few metres away. The golden lamplight glimmered over the pair; adjusting his vision to his saving grace, Lukas turned back to the stranger, fully exposed at last as though under a spotlight.

They swayed on the spot, hanging their head, one bloodied hand clutching at their left shoulder. One leg dragged dead behind them, appearing bent at a sickening angle; the other shook fiercely, forced to carry the rest of their weight. Dark, unruly curls snaked like vines in every direction, plastered to the stranger’s face with blood. Angry, matted crimson stained their once grey shirt, spiralling up both sleeves of their torn bomber. Every garment was caked in dirt and blood, ripped to frays in places, and Lukas noted their left arm (the one they refused to swing with) was tucked into the jacket, cradling their russet-soaked right side just below the ribs.

He still couldn’t make out their face. The stranger stared straight down at the ground, heaving billowing, wheezy breaths through gritted teeth as they defeatedly grasped their newly bruised shoulder. Lukas edged closer, dropping his crossbow once more, hoping with bated breath that in the light, his passivity was a lot clearer.

The stranger’s head snapped up towards the sound, and for a second, Lukas was convinced this was some cruel dream, a sick joke from his own exhausted brain.

He’d know those eyes anywhere. In all these years, they’d never once left his brain.

“Jesse?”

Voice hushed with incredulity, he picked up his pace. Those dark eyes met his, panicked and visibly delirious, softening with recognition after a few beats too long.

“…Lukas?”

His voice was long since lost, hoarse and barely above a whisper, as though the archer’s name was some shameful secret. Lukas gasped at the sight of him, getting a clear look at his face at last; that same, scarlet blood had previously drenched the left half of his face, now caking under his nose and starkly bruised eye. The scar he’d gotten on one of their old adventures was still there, pale white over dusky, freckled skin, stretching over his cheek and the bridge of his nose like the needle of a compass. The stubble that once ghosted over his square jawline was now a short, scraggly beard, and his eyebags were more pronounced than ever, weighed down with time and, knowing Jesse, a few too many near-death scenarios for his liking.

Lukas hesitated, studying the shorter man’s evident confusion. Horror began to set in, deep in the pit of his stomach like a bottomless void. Jesse was processing this situation far too slowly, a dazed, vacant look falling like a veil over his scruffy face.

Something is seriously off.

Eventually, Jesse breaks their blank staring match with a strained, lopsided grin, a hysterical, barking laugh spilling from it. Lukas frowned, alarmed.

“Hah! Lukas!” He slurred, incredulous, running a free hand through his matted locks. His eyes had that wild look in them again, creasing as he giggled. “Lukas, Lukas, Lukas.”

Noticing the shorter man beginning to slump forwards, Lukas shot his hands out to catch him with a start, recoiling as the contact ripped another strangled cry out of Jesse. He doubled over, gripping onto Lukas’ shoulder with as much force as he could muster.

The archer’s eyes blew wide with alarm upon realising his hand had shot into the shorter man’s jacket, right into the spot he’d been carefully guarding. He attempted to steady his old friend, choosing to ignore the way his hand came away wet from Jesse’s side.

“What the hell happened to you?” He choked out, fighting the bile that rose in his throat. From this distance, the heavy, cloying scent of metal, sweat and dust clogged his senses, hanging like a shadow in the frigid air.

Jesse didn’t reply, still laughing hysterically. He repeated the taller man’s name like a mantra, voice barely audible. After a few too many seconds that sent Lukas’ mind racing like a wildfire, the hero managed to produce something else, eyelids fluttering, relief visibly washing over his battered body.

“Oh, I missed you.”

With one last stupid grin, one last sickly lurch, he fell, unconscious, right into Lukas’ arms.

Chapter Text

If he wasn’t out cold, a total dead weight slumped against his body, Lukas was sure the sheer volume of his racing heart could’ve woken Jesse. He stumbled backwards, barely managing to catch both himself and the unconscious hero, hooking one arm around his back and pressing his free hand flat against his chest. Lukas breathed a small sigh of relief feeling it faintly rise and fall, a weak pulse straining against his icy fingertips.

Okay. Alive. Breathing. And here, for some reason. Okay. Okay.

Without thinking, he bent down to scoop Jesse up by the legs, careful to steer clear of the visibly deformed bone that swelled in colourful bruises just below the left knee. He strained against the weight, hardly breathing as he lugged his old friend across his porch. With no free hands to open the door, he resorted to kicking it free from the latch, swinging open and startling the sleeping Dewey. The large cat’s eyes grew wide in curiosity and alarm as he darted towards his owner, chirping as he dodged Lukas’ hurried paces.

Laying the limp Jesse onto his hallway carpet, he ignored the blood and dirt that quickly stained the cyan decor and immediately sped towards his kitchen, tearing open cabinets with enough force to rip them from their hinges in his frenetic haste.

Bandages, disinfectant, first aid kit.

He repeated the list in his head almost methodically until his arms were full of anything he thought would be remotely useful, returning to the slumped figure in his living room. Dewey had tentatively wandered over to Jesse’s head, spotted fur prickling along the spine as he sniffed at the blood matting his hair.

Dropping to his knees, Lukas pushed back the locks plastered to the shorter man’s head, a little relieved to see that the laceration splitting his eyebrow in two, responsible for the excessive amount of blood over his face and collar, was unexpectedly small. He then ghosted his hand over Jesse’s nose and mouth, leaning over it to listen for those faint breaths once more. Lukas’ thoughts ran like a checklist, blocking out any and all choking panic that could cloud his judgement, streamlined for efficiency.

Okay. Wounded. Severely, but breathing. Alive. Okay. Okay.

Lukas winced as he gingerly gripped the hero’s shoulders and attempted to shake him back to reality, lightly tapping the side of his face.

“Hey. Hey, Jesse?” His voice was raised just enough to startle Dewey a little, who flicked his tail in response and backed up from the scene, remaining anxiously observant.

Jesse screwed his eyes up tighter, mumbling something incoherent.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I need you awake for this. C’mon, Jesse.” His tone peaking with urgency, Jesse finally wrenched his eyelids apart, gaze still vacant and completely exhausted. His mouth gaped, searching for the cognition to form words. Somewhere beneath his calm exterior, he found a great deal of reprieve in the knowledge that Jesse’s injuries hadn’t left him completely catatonic.

“‘M tired.” Was all he managed, weakly raising his head to frown at Lukas as he gave his forehead gash a closer inspection.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Lukas murmured, softly this time, raking his gaze over the shorter man’s battered body. His clothes were so stained with blood and dirt he wasn’t sure where to start until he noticed that Jesse was yet to remove his hand from the bloodied area beneath his jacket. Lukas ran a gentle thumb across the icy knuckles, the soaked hand flinching away in response.

“Mind easing up there?”

Jesse only shook his head, still shivering with cold. His eyes flashed with alarm as he visibly regained a bit more of his mental function as though rousing from a vivid dream.

Lukas placed a warm hand over Jesse’s slick, frigid one, carefully trying to pry it away from the clear problem area. “I need to see it, Jesse.”

Jesse’s gaze hardened, screwing up with determination as he gradually worked each stiff finger free from the crimson fabric, retreating the trembling hand from within his jacket. “Careful.” He mumbled, bracing himself for contact.

“It’s okay, I will be.”

Lukas gently worked the jacket free from the mess of congealed blood, peeling back Jesse’s ragged shirt as he winced. Despite being hardened by his years of adventuring, Lukas still had to fight back a gag when his eyes met the wound.

A clean, deliberate gash stared back up at him, deep and gaping, surrounded by dried blood and reddish, angrily scraped skin. Jesse’s hand had done a fair job of stopping the bleeding that stained his sleeves and the waistband of his jeans, but Lukas still stared down at it in horror, mouth going dry.

How the hell could he even walk with this thing?

Jesse’s brow furrowed as he dragged his starry gaze over Lukas’ unreadable yet vaguely negative expression. “W-what? How’s it… How does it look? It’s okay, right? Lukas?”

“Jesse.” He began, refusing to meet the hero’s wide, nervous eyes. “I think we’ve got to stitch this up.”

The hero’s eyes flashed with horror, his breathing turning rapid and panicked. When he spoke, his voice was significantly more coherent, the statement dragging him out of his exhausted haze.

“Oh, no, no, please. It’ll be fine, it’s fine , it’s not that bad, just- just bandage it up or something, please .”

The pair were no strangers to having to patch each other up. Years of perilous adventures and having to save the world a few too many times tends to result in some nasty injuries. Which meant that Jesse was no stranger to the gruelling, sickly pain that came with every dip of the needle, every drag of the thread that sent his nerves aflame. Just the thought sent his stomach rolling, the hero responding by trying to clumsily struggle free of Lukas, reaching for the hand that held up his scarlet-stained shirt.

Usually, he’d be able to stomach it after some convincing, bearing the sickening sensation through gritted teeth. But he’d never had to be sewn up somewhere so vulnerable, and his nervous system was totally frayed after the journey. He felt himself growing faint again, confusion setting in as his eyelids, heavy as lead, threatened to flutter shut.

“Hey, hey.” Lukas pressed his free hand down on Jesse’s collarbone, pinning him flat on the ground. His brief attempt at escaping had agitated the wound, slow bleeding starting up again in a thin stream. Jesse breathed out a quiet whine, fiery pain licking up his side once more. He met Lukas’ glacial blue eyes with pleading brown ones.

“Just breathe, okay? That’s it.” The taller man murmured as Jesse made an effort to get his racing heart under control, taking slow, wheezing breaths. “It’s gotta be done, I’m sorry. Have you even seen the state of this thing?”

Jesse shook his head. “Didn’t wanna risk it. Don’t feel like… going eye-to-eye with my insides.”

“Okay, it’s not that extreme. But I have to close it or you’ll either bleed out or get an infection.”

The hero swallowed hard, screwing up his eyes as Lukas moved his left hand down towards the wound, reaching for his medical kit with the other. He refused to open it, studying Jesse’s reluctant expression for any kind of go-ahead. Eventually he nodded, brow set with determination, slowly working his way out of his jacket—exposing a multitude of other injuries—before settling back down.

“Okay.”

Okay. Okay.

A slender hand rummaged through the bag, producing a needle, suture, and a small vial of liquid, probably one of many gifts from Ivor. Lukas swiftly uncorked it, submerging the needle in the colourless fluid and threading it. Jesse tried not to make eye contact with it, staring straight up and blindly reaching for Lukas’ shoulder in the search for some form of comfort.

It brought a strange sense of familiarity. A reminder of all the times he’d reached for Lukas’ hand in the cold seasons, or the space between his shoulder blades to steady him while travelling somewhere precarious, or the side of his face in the dead of night to trace bruised knuckles over a scarred cheekbone, sleeping nose to nose, as some quiet reassurance that I’m here, I got you.

Lukas tried not to dwell on the memory, though it was a fruitless exercise. After all these years apart, dragged back together by some unthinkable collision of fate, it was though he’d never left.

“Breathe, okay?” Lukas spoke softly, voice low and rigid with focus. He tipped a few drops of the liquid into the hero’s wound, sending a sharp jolt through it and forcing a groan out through gritted teeth. “I got you.”

Forcing his hands steady, Lukas breathed out—one long, slow, careful exhale—before lowering the point of the needle into Jesse’s bloodied skin.

The drilling excruciation immediately gave Jesse double vision, knocking him sick and driving a stuttered cry out of him. His grip tightened on Lukas’ shoulder and the archer had to suppress a wince, ignoring the pressure in favour of focusing all his attention on weaving the thread in neat loops that ran like minecart tracks deep into the traumatised flesh. Raising the needle, he pulled the thread tight, Jesse heaving a sob in reaction to the tugging sensation. Lukas paused, sweat beading on the back of his neck, glancing over at him.

Jesse’s eyes were wild and glassy with pain, face screwed up in agony as he panted, desperately trying to regain control of his breath, which came in short, sharp inhales. His mouth gaped, gasping in an attempt to stifle the retches and pitiful sobs that forced their way out of his throat with every movement.

Pangs of sympathy settled deep in Lukas’ stomach for a moment before he consciously pushed them aside. If this wound was left like this, Jesse would have no chance, the earlier movement having reopened the previously stemmed blood flow.

As fast as possible. Don’t make him suffer too long. He’ll be okay.

Fiery gaze settling back down on the injury, he got back to work, stabbing and stitching and pulling the wound until it stopped resembling the mouth of a cave, ignoring the way his stomach lurched with every wretched cry, every strangled gasp, every pleading, trembling hand that made a feeble attempt to pry his arms off Jesse’s side. It took a lot out of him to keep going, only murmuring a hushed repetition in a weak bid to reassure the writhing Jesse. The soft, panicked mumbles of I know, I know, I know, it’s okay, I got you were lost among the animalistic screams, making Lukas’ heart twist with every loop of thread.

In, out, over again. Pull it tight. He’ll be okay.

Tying off the last suture, he fell back on his heels, allowing himself to glance back over at the hero. He was barely conscious, misty eyes half shut, grip on Lukas’ now-bruised shoulder loosening with his amounting fatigue. Another halfhearted sob escaped his lips, and Lukas’ bloodied hand met Jesse’s, giving it a careful squeeze.

“Hey. It’s done. No more, I promise.”

Jesse raised a trembling arm over his eyes, rubbing away the few tears that threatened to slip down his dirt-smudged cheeks. His voice was hoarse and hushed, coming out in a whimper that stabbed at Lukas’ heart one last time.

“You promise?”

Lukas’ eyes ghosted over his beaten figure, injuries on full display with his jacket gone. A few moderately deep gashes decorated his arms ( defense wounds?) , white-hot abrasions stretching across nearly every joint, and of course, the oddly-shaped bone just below the knee, framed in vivid bruises.

He spared a second to inspect his own handiwork, the neat stitches like tally marks across his side.

One for every heart attack you’ve given me.

He then looked back to the half-asleep Jesse, energy spent, clearly gone through hell and back and nearing collapse, and settled on the decision that they could wait.

“I promise.” He replied, though it fell on deaf ears as Jesse’s breathing finally settled into a peaceful rhythm, eyelids drawing closed.

————————————

He was dreaming. He was so sure it had to be a dream. A horrible joke from his own brain while he was lying across his unfinished paperwork.

A cruel punishment for falling asleep at my desk. Jesse at my fucking doorstep.

But Lukas knew he was awake. The blood drying in fractal patterns across his scarred knuckles was real. The bruises on his shoulder were real. The man draped across his sofa, out cold and faintly snoring, was definitely real.

He shook himself free of the train of thought, staring dead-eyed into the soft glow of the dying fireplace and bringing his knees closer to his chest. His aching back rested against Jesse’s makeshift bed, with Dewey curled into a restless ball by his side. Silence hung thickly in the air like a shroud, only interrupted by the sound of Lukas’ own blood rushing in his ears.

I have to be dreaming, he thought, though he didn’t believe it. He was almost trying to convince himself out of reality, running his hands over his arms. That cloying coppery smell that hung off the pair of them was real. The stains on his coat, which lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, were real. Jesse’s pulse against the back of his head, weak but steady, was real.

A gross bitterness sparked in the back of his throat, years of things left unsaid lapping at every thought like a hungry wildfire.

Why now?

His brow furrowed, eyes prickling with needle-sharp tears.

Why does he get to come back?

He ran an anxious hand through his hair, mindlessly reaching across his chest to check the hero’s wrist for a pulse. He’d done it every few minutes, as though on autopilot, the idea of sleeping never once crossing his mind. His heart pummelled at his ribs, fuelling his drumbeat headache, forcing shaky, audible breaths, in and out and over again.

Lukas didn’t want to think about him. He hadn’t wanted to think about him since it became clear that his decision to leave was absolute, though he had little choice in the matter.

Jesse, the hero, haunting every corner of his brain. Always and forever.

Lukas hated it. Always had. Forever will.

Ironically, he reached for the man’s heartbeat again, shaky hand fumbling in the dark, brushing against stained fingers. He held his arm in the awkward position for a few beats too long, before carefully, tentatively weaving their hands together, brushing his thumb against a knuckle. Jesse’s hand gave a sleep-drunk twitch of acknowledgment before closing his weak fist around Lukas’, sighing.

Lukas swallowed hard, screwing up his face, before wrenching free of his frail grasp. He shot to his feet, decidedly walking back to the front door, each stiff footstep shaking a thought free from his racing, pounding head. Dewey gave another disgruntled chirp at the disturbance. Lukas decided not to acknowledge it, slipping back into his work boots and that crumpled, bloodstained trench one more time.

Too much to be done. About him, about everything.

Slipping out of the door, he stole one last glance at Jesse. He was totally still besides the near-undetectable rise and fall of his chest, bluish moonlight filtering through the curtains to frame every windswept lock and every curve of his peaceful face. In the darkness, Lukas couldn’t make out his injuries, or his grown out hair, or the worn look on his face that came with time. Only the gentle highlights across his cheekbones, his brow, the bridge of his nose.

For a moment, he was twenty again.

The scene twisted his heart into a loop, that age-old bitterness rearing its head again.

Lukas wrenched himself away with a great effort—his frayed nerves and misplaced anger closing the door with far too much force—trudging into the town, arctic wind stinging his tear-streaked face.

He sniffed, once again desperately trying to force every thought out of his mind.

Lukas didn’t want to think about him. The universe seemed to have something else in mind as always, as Jesse haunted every corner of his brain once more, loud and fierce and raging like a storm rolling onto the horizon.

Only one clear thought remained, untainted by that peaceful face and those wretched screams and god, so much blood.

This is your own fault.

And in that moment, Lukas was finally certain he wasn’t dreaming.

No dream, or nightmare, or PAMA-ridden sleep paralysis or flashback of falling from Sky City’s height, being so sure he was done for when he hit the ground.

No vicious reminder of first locking eyes with the Witherstorm, or memory of dying and being disgustingly, painfully reanimated, or fuzzy visions of the Admin’s body in Jesse’s skin.

No flashes of red eyes. No hallucinations of the people he’d lost. No echo from the past or whisper from a distant future.

Nothing could be as cruel.

Chapter Text

Jesse awoke with a soft gasp, the flashes and visions gradually dissipating from behind his eyes. He blinked slowly, eyelids still heavy, as he regained his fuzzy vision.

Where… am I?

His thoughts came as slowly as his consciousness. Unfocused eyes darting around for anything he’d recognise—though he could hardly make out his own hands in front of him—he made an attempt to sit up on his elbows, raising his pounding head from the couch. Pain shot through his side with the movement, and he gave a stuttered wince, finally awake.

Everything seemed to hit at once like a deliriant, making him feel faint again. His side, his arms, his head, his leg. There wasn’t an inch of his body left that wasn’t hurting in some way. Despite being covered by that thick, disorienting blanket that comes with waking up from a deep sleep, Jesse still felt utterly exhausted. His mouth was cotton-dry, and his eyes still felt heavy. He forced them open, wild brown eyes scanning the room he’d awoken in.

He took advantage of his cognition, trying to piece together his surroundings. He was lying across a brown leather sofa in a tidy, cabin-esque home. The walls were cream with wood panelling that matched the floors, shelves and cabinets stacked with rows upon rows of books and CDs, as well as the occasional houseplant. There was a coffee table to his left, littered with medical supplies and paperwork, and a fireplace against the wall behind it.

Okay, really, where the fuck am I?

He ran a stained palm across his face, wincing again as he caught the gash on his brow.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Jesse startled as a faint voice sounded from another room. He whipped his head around, heart freshly hammering, only to lock eyes with the last person he expected to see.

Impossible. Maybe I’m still dreaming.

Wordlessly, he pinched himself in the thigh. Sure enough, he wasn’t dreaming, and the man standing in the doorway was, in fact, Lukas.

Lukas.

Lukas??

The archer hurried to his side, kneeling down to Jesse’s eye level as the shorter man propped himself up on his elbows, much slower this time, though it barely made a difference to his searing abdomen. He hissed, and Lukas’ brows knitted together.

Lukas looked exactly as he’d pictured. The scars across his cheekbone and lower lip hadn’t budged, a stark white across already pale skin. He was still covered head to toe in dusky freckles, dusting the bridge of his nose in constellations and disappearing beneath the collar of his cable-knit jumper. He’d grown a bit more stubble, though, and the lines on his face were more prominent; most notably the eyebags that stood out like bruises.

In fact, those gunmetal blue eyes that crinkled in the corners were rimmed with exhaustion, trained on Jesse’s face with fawning attentiveness and a worry that left creases on his forehead.

Ah. It was all coming back to him. The seemingly endless stumbling through the forest, those hands holding up his limp body, those eyes boring into his, glassy with tears, as he painstakingly stitched his skin back together.

Jesse’s stomach lurched at the memory, and he leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling while his head spun. It throbbed relentlessly, though still dulled with sleep. He had to fight to not let his eyelids flutter closed again.

Lukas gave an awkward chuckle of relief, the soft breath tickling the side of Jesse’s flushed face. Admittedly, the undivided attention was flustering him a little. It had been creators-knows how many years since those glacial eyes had been on him, and only him. His brain lagged with disbelief.

“About time. Would’ve started to worry me, if you hadn’t been doing that already.”

Jesse didn’t respond, only blinking hard, trying to find his bearings again. He’d woken totally disoriented, with nothing but hazy flashes of memory from the night before.

Lots to process. Head hurts too bad to do that.

“I mean, you were out for a day and a half. How you feeling?”

Lukas’ voice was soft and crooning, his hand clasping over Jesse’s. It was lower than he remembered, and maybe not as warm, though he could be making that up. His memory was clearly not reliable at this point in time.

“How you feeling.” Kind of a stupid question. I’m gonna go with ‘not great.’

In reality, there were too many things Jesse wanted to say in that moment. Lukas. It’s really you. I can’t believe it.

I missed you more than anything.

He turned his head to meet Lukas’ eyes again, vision still blurry in the corners. His mouth gaped, too dry for words, until he eventually croaked out two words.

“Not… great.”

Lukas only gave a “hmm” in reply, straightening up and heading back into what Jesse assumed was his kitchen. He took the opportunity to finally glance back down at himself.

Creators, this hurts. I half expect to see myself with no legs.

His shirt was gone, for a start. His entire abdomen was encased in bandages, as well as both his forearms. He could spot bandaids and patches of gauze on his chest and upper arms in his peripheral vision, as well as the rainbow hues of nasty bruises; one on his shoulder and another nestled on his sternum. Only his jeans remained—though they had been cut away at the knee of his left leg in place of an awkward, clunky cast. Jesse frowned.

Huh. Feels like something I would remember.

In his confusion, Jesse had failed to spot Lukas reappearing with a glass of water and, presumably, a handful of pills. He kneeled back down, offering them to the wounded hero. Jesse knocked them both back gratefully, relieved.

Gasping for air after practically swallowing the whole glass in one go, he gestured to the boot with a shaky, heavily bandaged hand, hardly able to move his individual fingers.

“Um. When did that get there?”

Lukas frowned again, half-laughing as he spoke. “The night you got here. I went into town and brought a doctor to look at it. You don’t remember?”

Jesse shook his head roughly.

“Hm. Well, you did pass straight back out. It’ll be fine, by the way. Broken, though.”

He tapped at two metal crutches that Jesse hadn’t noticed were lying under the table.

“You’ve got these to get around until it comes off.”

“Huh.” Jesse’s brow furrowed as he slowly made an attempt to sit properly. He winced, muscles stiffening with the pain, and Lukas reached out, placing a guiding hand on his upper arm. Jesse gripped it, grateful for the support as he hoisted himself up. Once settled, Lukas clearly decided he didn’t need to be watched so intently, and pulled up an armchair at his feet, falling back into it with a stilted exhale.

The silence was dreadful; long and dragging, making Jesse’s stomach twist with every beat. He felt for the imprint of Lukas’ hand on his shoulder, tracing the remnants of his touch with numb, bandaged fingers. Eventually, tired with the lack of communication, Lukas spoke up, voice low and breathy with incredulity.

“Jesse. What happened to you?”

Jesse blinked, meeting those gunmetal eyes once again. They were creased with concern and confusion, forcing him to look away as his chest constricted with guilt.

Typical. I don’t see him for years, then come back in a state. Stupid.

“Oh, um.” Jesse wracked his brain, gradually piecing the memory together. “I got caught off guard, is all.”

Lukas sputtered. “Caught off guard? What the hell does that mean? By who?”

Jesse only shrugged sheepishly, folding his arms. “Don’t know. You make a lot of enemies on the road. ‘Specially if you’re travelling with Petra, being the way she is.”

“That… explains nothing.” Lukas throws out a hand in exasperation, clearly dumbfounded by Jesse’s nonchalant approach to almost dying.

The hero cocked his head to the side in thought. “You remember that whole saga with Aiden? It’s kinda like that. But anyway, they just caught me without my armour, and got a lucky hit in. My horse carried me most of the way, but she must’ve spooked, cause she threw me off.”

He gestured to the boot again, expression exaggerated as though this were a regular, casual, funny story he was relaying to his best friend, and not the man he’d been away from for half a decade.

Lukas only stared, making direct, unshakable eye contact. Jesse couldn’t read his expression one bit. Incredulous couldn’t begin to describe it.

“So, um.” Jesse hung his head, dodging that icy gaze once more. “I just kept walking, cause what else can you do, and I found you.”

He fought back the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry for attacking you. Thought you were a zombie. Or something.”

Lukas only gawked at Jesse, at a total loss for words.

“Wh-“ He ran a hand over his face, then gestured at the clunky cast. “How long were you walking on that thing?”

Jesse shrugged, still awfully blasé about the whole thing. “Don’t know. It felt like days, but that’s probably not right. Wouldn’t have lasted that long.”

“These, uh. ‘Enemies.’” Lukas made awkward air quotes. “You don’t know who they are?”

“Nope. I, uh, didn’t get a good look. I was too busy trying to get away.”

“Have you led them to Beacontown?”

The hard edge to his tone shocked the hero, forcing him to glance up from his bandaged knuckles. Lukas’ brow was furrowed, a hand resting over his mouth in thought and quiet calculation. Jesse swallowed hard.

Of course. The real priority.

“They gave up chasing me after a while. Goldie’s fast.”

Lukas made eye contact after a few beats, quirking a brow. Jesse dodged it awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“…My horse.”

Lukas only gave a “hmm” before rising to his feet, strolling over to the kitchen. Jesse wasn’t sure why, but something about his tone made him feel unusually rejected.

A realisation flashed in his mind and his eyes went wide, snapping his head in Lukas’ direction.

“Wait, you brought someone here?” He called out.

He was met with a sigh. “A doctor, yes.”

“Lukas, people can’t know I’m back.”

The archer didn’t respond, the silence making Jesse’s skin start to crawl before Lukas reappeared, a bowl in hand. It wasn’t until he saw the steam billowing in clouds above it that Jesse finally paid attention to the fierce hunger that scraped at his insides. He hadn’t eaten since long before the ambush.

Lukas set it down on the table along with bread and a polished little spoon. “Mushroom soup. Figured you’d be hungry.”

Jesse fought the urge to swallow it in a single fervent mouthful, ignoring the way his mouth watered and his stomach ached with every increasingly urgent pang of hunger. “I’m serious, Lukas. I don’t want people knowing I’m here. I can’t stay for long.”

Sitting back down, Lukas visibly prickled in a way that would be hard even for Jesse to miss.

“Relax. Doctor-patient confidentiality or whatever. And I’m sorry, but you don’t have much choice. Your leg was bad, Jesse. You’re lucky it was just a fracture, but you’re not gonna be adventuring on that thing for a while.”

“Oh.” Jesse swallowed hard, frowning. “How long till I’m back on the road?”

Lukas folded his arms. “Doctor said around three months.”

“Wh- months?” The hero spluttered, brown eyes widening again.

“What, you thought you were just gonna walk outta here in a week? That desperate to get away?”

Lukas gave a half-hearted laugh at the end of his sentence, but it did a pitiful job at disguising the scorn in his tone. Jesse’s brow furrowed once again, taken aback.

“Cmon, of course not, it’s just… Petra doesn’t know where I am.”

“I was gonna ask. You got separated?”

Jesse shook his head. “We go solo sometimes.” He tapped a finger on his thigh repeatedly, thinking. “You got a pen and paper? Hah, stupid question, you’re an author. But uh, I’ll send a letter to Champion City. She passes through there all the time, she’ll get the message soon enough. That, or I get Jack to track her down. Unless he’s with her…”

Lukas leaned back, rifling through the cabinet behind him. In the meantime, Jesse picked up the neglected bowl and drank the contents in minutes, not even glancing at the spoon.

Something hit Jesse in the chest, forcing a hushed “oomph” out of him. Setting the bowl down, he glanced down at the book and pen in his lap, picking it up and thumbing through the countless empty pages.

“For your letter.” Lukas murmured, rising to his feet once more. “Hang onto that. You’ll need some entertainment.”

“Hmm. Where you headed?”

Lukas sighed, reaching for his jacket. As he slipped into the garment, Jesse noticed the ghost of a bloodstain stretching across the front, barely visible against the tan fabric. Jesse felt mildly guilty.

“Work. Radar needs a hand with some planning. There’s more food in the fridge, and you’ve got your crutches there, so uh. Good luck with those.”

Jesse snorted, eyeing up the awkward-looking devices. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

“Uh-huh.” Lukas opened the door with a click, only for a fuzzy blur to rocket into the building, sending him stumbling backwards. “Shit- Dewey!”

To Jesse’s amusement, the large cat circled the archer a few times, darting between his feet with the occasional rowdy chirp, before hopping onto the armrest of the sofa, peering over at the hero. It became a lot less amusing when he spat a bundle of damp feathers onto Jesse’s leg, no doubt one of those weird gifts that reminded him of the reason why he was never the biggest fan of cats. He wrinkled his nose as Dewey blinked at him expectantly.

“Um. Thanks.”

Satisfied, Dewey gave another soft meow before strolling into the kitchen. Lukas only sighed.

“Sorry about that. He likes chasing chickens. You’re lucky he didn’t bring a whole one back here.”

“Gross.” Jesse awkwardly kicked it onto the floor, shivering at the wet imprint it left on his jeans.

“Sorry if he bothers you while I’m out.” Lukas slid out of the door, giving one last glance at the hero. A long, pointed, glacial stare that lasted maybe a few beats too long, swimming with something complex and unreadable. Not that Jesse minded.

“He, uh. He’s been worried about you.”

Jesse steadily returned the archer’s icy blue gaze, offering him a half smile in return.

“Well, tell him thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

Lukas smirked, tossing one last comment through the doorway before shutting it with a click.

“You always are.”

—————————

Lukas was in a strange mood the entire walk.

What the hell was that?

That arctic wind was back, dusting his speckled cheeks in a pink blush that was definitely totally unrelated to his earlier interaction with the now-conscious hero.

He grumbled to himself like an old man, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Beacontown was as busy as ever, never dulled by wind or snow, bustling crowds rife with lively chatter as he weaved through them, deep in racing thought.

Awake five damn minutes and he’s already dying to get away. I don’t know what I expected.

He groaned internally as he reached city hall, grateful for the rush of warmth as he stepped into the crowded building, dodging even more crowds on his way to the office.

Lukas blinked hard as he trudged up the stairs, his breathing shaky and slow. The whole situation still hardly felt real. A night wasn’t long enough to process this sudden, whiplash-inducing change to how the next few months of his life will look.

Seriously. There’s no way this is actually happening.

He forced the thought out of his head. He didn’t dare fall down that train of thought again.

This is going to be hell. Three months of my personal hell. And how am I gonna explain this to Radar? I really need to figure out how this is gonna work.

He hesitated as he reached for the doorknob, racking his brain for an excuse.

Jesse made it really clear he didn’t want people knowing about his dramatic return.

Why? Worried the paparazzi will swarm the building? Worried he won’t be able to cut and leave as easily?

Fuelled by a fresh, fiery spark of anger and sudden determination, he pushed his way into the office, floor creaking with every confident step.

Fuck him.

Radar’s head quickly snapped up from his desk to the source of the noise. His glasses were askew, eyes rimmed with stress behind the crooked frames. Behind him, folders tucked under both arms, was Olivia, donning her usual red lab coat. An unexpected addition to the party.

“Lukas! Hey! Just in time!” Radar grinned, shooting up from his chair with a clearly caffeinated energy. “I got the papers you mailed in. A little late, but I made it work, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I, uh… Got sick.” Lukas mumbled awkwardly, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it up by the door. He shot Olivia a warm smile. “Hey, Liv. What brings you here?”

Olivia returned his grin, attempting a little wave despite her arms being full. “Hey, Lukas. My students are gonna be busy with an assignment, so I’m free for a little while. Thought I’d give you guys a hand with your founding anniversary plans. And, uh, everything else.”

She dropped the folders in front of Radar, the stacks of paper making a resounding thunk.

“So, what are we working with?”

Radar drummed shaky fingers on the desk. “Aside from founding day? A lot of our usual builders are out on an expedition. The library still needs a few repairs—so does the museum, after last week’s griefing—and we’ve got a bunch of building permits to work out.”

Radar paused to take a long swig from his coffee mug. Olivia made eye contact just to pointedly mouth mug number four. Lukas smirked, and Radar slammed the cup down with a little too much force.

“We’re working on an expansion in the east, by Terracotta Street, which is taking up a lot of our labour anyway, and we’re trying to negotiate trade with some farmers a few towns over.”

Olivia blinked, folding her arms. “Farmers? What for?”

“Uh, produce and sugar. Our farms aren’t doing too great at the minute. Plus, the water’s flooded with drowned, so the sugar cane’s not safe to harvest. Ach, another thing to sort out…”

He trailed off, leaning down to frantically take notes. Lukas swallowed hard at the sight.

His handwriting’s as clear as mud on a good day. I dread trying to decipher it after four cups of coffee.

“Okay, what have we already done?” Olivia picked one of the folders back up, flipping through it.

“Uh, I’ve sorted out the labour needed to clear up forest for our expansion. Lukas did a lot of the permits, and sketched up some of the blueprints for the new buildings.”

“Great. So we just need to sort out our priorities. Surely, the repairs should come first. It’s not safe leaving big holes in the sides of all the communal spaces.”

“True.” Radar straightened his glasses, looking straight at Lukas. “Could you make a start on those? Preferably tonight, but-“

“Listen, guys.” Lukas cut in before Radar could go on another ramble, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I know there’s a lot to be done, but I’m gonna need to pull back. At least for a few days.”

Radar’s eyes quickly grew alarmingly wide. “ Days?? We’re already behind! We can’t-“

Olivia cut him off with a wave of a hand. “Hold off, Radar. How come? Are you still sick?”

“Uh.” Lukas hesitated before attempting a feeble cough into his elbow. “Yes.”

The pair stared him down in disbelief. Eventually, Olivia broke the dead silence, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re an awful liar, Lukas.”

The archer groaned before stepping closer, leaning his hands on the desk. “If I tell you why, will you promise to keep your mouths shut?”

Radar nodded vigorously, while Olivia gave a hesitant “sure,” eyeing Lukas up suspiciously.

“Jesse’s back.”

The pair’s mouths fell open in shock and Lukas had to be quick to slap his hands over them, a muffled yell of “what!” slipping out from under both his palms. Wincing, he slowly retreated his hands, though their expressions were nothing short of incredulous.

“Yeah. I know.” He sighed, raising his eyebrows. Olivia was the first to shake free from her stupor, reaching up to nervously fidget with the end of a braid.

“Are you… serious? That’s insane!”

Lukas nodded, running a hand over his face.

“To make a long story short, I found him in the woods. He was banged up pretty badly, but don’t worry-“ He hastily added before Olivia had time to gasp. “-He’s okay. He’s conscious, and I got a doctor to look at him.”

“Jeez, what happened?” Radar finally cut in, eyes wide with alarm and probably far too much caffeine.

“I don’t know. Neither does he, apparently.” He threw a hand to the side to punctuate his frustration. “Him and Petra have made enemies, it seems.”

“He didn’t mention anything like that in his last letter.” Olivia mumbled, wringing her hands. Lukas bit the inside of his cheek at the mention.

Over the years, Jesse and Petra had sporadically sent letters addressed to Redstonia—though they were really for the whole group—detailing their latest adventures or sending new souvenirs for the treasure hall. It used to be a group event, gathering to read them; Olivia, Lukas, Axel, Radar, even Harper and Ivor on occasion.

At least, until Lukas stopped showing up.

“Well, his leg’s broken. Fractured, anyway, but it’s three months until he’s back on the road again.” The archer folded his arms, trying to disguise the flare of bitterness that threatened to creep onto his features.

“He’s, uh. Not thrilled about that.”

“I can imagine.” Olivia snorted, though there was a faint, unreadable sympathy behind her dark eyes.

“Wh- can’t we see him? I mean, it’s been years!” Radar was still incessantly quivering with energy. He’d mellowed out over the years with time and responsibility, though he was still a bit much at times. Lukas blinked hard, adjusting to the mayor’s volume.

“Uh, don’t think he wants visitors.”

It didn’t take long for Radar’s dejected expression to force him into breaking his promise with Jesse. He heaved a sigh.

“Give it two weeks.”

Radar pumped his fist with a hissed “ yes !” before dashing out of the room, making some comment about clearing his schedule.

Olivia caught his eyes, face softening with an out-of-place concern.

“You gonna be okay?”

The comment caught him off guard. Lukas spluttered, confused.

“Wh- huh? Yeah, of course. Why’d you ask?”

She shrugged, dodging his eyes. He quirked a brow in reply.

“I don’t know, Lukas. I guess it’s a lot. Besides, last time I saw you, you hadn’t properly slept in days. Seemed like you were going a little…”

Her finger made a twirling motion beside her head. Insane.

He scoffed. “Liv, it’s not like I’m nursing him back to health by hand. I can handle it.”

“Cmon, it’s not just that. You think I don’t notice that you never show up for his letters anymore?”

Lukas’ eyes flashed as guilt quickly settled like silt in his stomach. He dropped his gaze sheepishly.

“I get busy.”

She sighed knowingly, a sad half-smile tugging at her lips. “You’re still an awful liar.”

Mouth open, wracking his short-circuited brain for a response, Lukas couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes again. He stared at the floor with a head full of static until Radar burst back through the door, waving his beaten diary over his head.

“A-ha!” He grinned, dropping it onto the desk. “It took some rearranging, but I’ve found some free time to see Jesse. Until then, we better make a start on some of these tasks. Lukas?”

Thankful for the distraction, Lukas finally shook free from his trance, eyes snapping up to meet Radar’s. “Hm?”

“If you have to pull back from doing the repairs, would you mind negotiating the trades and permits instead? It’s a big job, but it’s something you could do at home for a while.”

He grinned. “Sure thing. Thanks, guys.”

Radar gave him a thumbs up. Olivia said nothing, wandering away for more folders in his peripheral vision.

“Well, while I’m here-“ Lukas shifted, reaching for some of the papers on the desk. Radar’s untidy scrawl stared back up at him, forcing the archer to squint, adjusting his vision to the nonsensical scribbles.

“Let’s figure out how this is gonna work.”

Chapter Text

By the time Lukas got away from work, the sun had started to set. Its final, dying rays bled out over the horizon in a gentle orange glow that barely broke through the thick clouds. He felt a lot lighter than he did that morning, but he’d never been able to shake that faint feeling of dread.

Before reaching over to unlock his front door, he hesitated, toying with the decision to tell Jesse that he’d revealed the hero’s whereabouts. He sighed, rolling his eyes before slipping into the thankfully warm building.

I honestly don’t care. It’s Olivia and Radar, for crying out loud. What’s he gonna do?

Rubbing his hands together to regain the feeling in his icy fingers, he looked up to see a very focused Jesse doing slow laps with his crutches around the couch, where Dewey lay nestled in a neat little ball. He stared intently down at his feet, the devices making a soft click with every step. Lukas could see that sound getting annoying very quickly.

Jesse’s head snapped up to the sound of the door closing, shooting Lukas a grin before looking back down at his feet.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” He called out proudly, ironically wobbling on his feet a little as he did. “I’ve only fallen over once.”

Click. Click. Click.

“Huh.” Lukas murmured as he shrugged off his jacket and dropped the bag of papers Radar had given him. His eyes glanced over the bloodied bandage on the hero’s upper arm; clearly the area that had taken the brunt of his fall. “Well, try not to bust your stitches open.”

Click. Click. Click.

“How was work? Anything going on?” Jesse didn’t look up, still focused on the floor.

“Ugh, too much. Nothing interesting.” Lukas kicked off his boots before settling down into his armchair, running a hand over his face. “We’re pretty busy, what with founding day planning starting up and all these expansions we’re doing. But they’ve let me pull back a bit, so I’ve just got paperwork to sort at home for a while.”

Click. Click. Click.

“Oh yeah? What’d you tell them?”

“The truth.”

Click. Jesse stopped in his tracks, clumsily swivelling around to give Lukas an incredulous look.

Lukas only rolled his eyes, shooting back to his feet and strolling into his kitchen. “Oh, calm down. It’s Olivia and Radar. They didn’t believe my excuse, so I caved.”

Jesse spluttered, following the archer. “That was, like, the one thing I asked you not to do.”

A spark of anger reared in Lukas’ stomach once again, and he made a point of trying to ignore it, opening the fridge to stare at the limited ingredients within it. Jesse didn’t budge, blocking the doorway. Lukas only offered a heavy exhale through his nose in response.

“I think you’re forgetting it’s my job, Jesse.” Lukas still tried not to acknowledge the hero, pulling some stuff out of his fridge before shutting the door.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wh- it means-“ Lukas threw a hand out to the side in exasperation as he began searching his drawers for his cooking utensils. “I can’t just drop everything on a whim ‘cause I feel like it. I owe it to  Radar to at least be honest about why I’m just… dropping everything on him .”

“Well, yeah, I just… if I’m gonna be off the road, I don’t want people making a big deal of it. I just wanna fix myself up and get back out there.”

“Oh, yeah, good luck with that.” Lukas spat bitterly before attempting to reign himself back in with one, deep, shaky inhale, holding himself perfectly still against the countertop until his thinly veiled rage settled itself back down.

Jesse didn’t reply, and Lukas didn’t make any effort to look at him, but he was almost certain he could feel those brown eyes boring into the back of his head for far longer than he would’ve liked. Eventually, the hero sighed, audibly turning away.

Click. Click. Click.

As soon as he was sure Jesse was gone, Lukas dropped his head into his hands and matched his sigh, leaning his elbows against the counter.

Pull it together. We can’t be at each other’s throats if we’re going to do this for three whole months.

Swallowing his pride, he moved to lean against the doorway, facing the back of Jesse’s head as the hero sat on the couch, arms folded.

“I’m sorry I snapped.” He began, his voice a low, steeled murmur. “I get it, but there’s been a lot of changes since you left. Things are…”

His eyes lingered on the hero’s dark curls for a few beats, trailing off while he searched for the word. Jesse made no effort to meet his gaze. He sighed, hopefully for the last time.

Exhausting.

“…Different.” He finished decisively, ignoring his instinctual response.

“I figured.” Jesse offered simply, his voice quiet with some emotion Lukas couldn’t quite make out. He sounded almost sad, or inexplicably regretful. It pulled at Lukas’ heart again, the way only Jesse ever could, twisting some faint sympathy out of him. He cleared his throat, changing the topic.

“We, uh. Gotta change your bandages tonight.”

Jesse groaned, finally glancing back at the author. “Ugh. Seriously?”

“Sorry, man, but it’s got to be done.” A smirk played on his lips as Jesse dramatically threw his head back in response with a huff. “I’ll make something to eat first, if you like.”

“Nah.” Jesse strained as he pulled himself back to his feet, crutches gripped tightly in his bandaged arms. “Let’s get it over with.”

———————————————

The bathroom tiles were cool against Jesse’s palms. He’d shiver if he wasn’t already faintly quivering with nerves, back resting against the bathtub as he waited for Lukas to return with supplies. He wrung his bandaged fingers together thoughtfully, staring off into space.

While Lukas was gone, he’d admittedly spent most of his time gazing out of the window; partly to ease the nagging paranoia that the whole town had heard about his return and were about to swarm in crowds outside the door, and partly to try and catch a glimpse of its happenings. He hadn’t expected Lukas to have set up camp on the very edge of town, especially now that he was so intrinsically involved with running it, though he supposed it did make sense. He’d always liked the calm and quiet over the bustle of the centre. Still, it was a little annoying for Jesse, who was dying to know how the town was doing, peering between the curtains to try and spot anyone or anything he recognised.

I guess this place is like… an escape of sorts. It’s nice, too. That’s how you know he built it.

Jesse exhaled softly as a smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t last. The thought of Lukas was—Creators, he didn’t even know. Everything was weird. Jesse’s head was weird. He couldn’t figure out how he felt about this situation, or anything at all. Maybe the head injury was still playing with his thoughts.

Or maybe I’m the weird one.

Jesse gave a sad chuckle at the thought, staring straight down at his slightly bloodied palms.

I’m not stupid. I know it’s been five years. But everything’s… changed. Way more than I thought. I don’t know what I expected, actually.

For a start, the town was different. Back when he ran it, it was pretty easy to get out of Beacontown duties for a little while, just long enough to go exploring or hunting for a new treasure. The town was small, and things were simple.

Now, judging by the lines of exhaustion on Lukas’ face and the sheer volume of paperwork, blueprints and double-underlined reminders of things to do that lay scattered all over the house (which, yes, Jesse had snooped all throughout by now), Jesse could tell things were nothing like they used to be. They were complicated, busy, more formal. It wasn’t hard to feel out of place.

Lukas, too, was different. Jesse hated thinking about it, folding his arms at the reminder. Back then, conversation would come easy. They’d laugh and smile and slide their fingers together and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders when no one was looking. Jesse knew the author like the back of his palm. Lukas was easy. Safe. Familiar in a way he’d never felt with anyone else.

And now… Jesse didn’t even want to acknowledge it. He was well aware it hadn’t been long since his return—not to mention how many years he’d been gone—yet he couldn’t shake the fear that he didn’t know Lukas anymore. That he’d moved on, grown into someone new in his absence.

That everything’s changed, and I’ve stayed the same.

Jesse consciously pushed the thought aside, wrapping his arms a little tighter around himself.

You’re being stupid. He’s the same person. You’re the same people.

The reassurance did little to soften the unease in his stomach. He frowned, dropping his head onto his knees.

What did you expect? You left.

With that, Lukas pushed the door open with his hip, arms too full of bandages and first aid supplies. Jesse’s head snapped up towards the sudden noise, startling a little. The author sat himself down with a soft “oof,” dropping his stash into a pile beside him before shooting Jesse a grin.

“That’s everything, I think.” He murmured, shifting as he crossed his legs. Finally sitting at eye level, his expression shifted a little, quirking a brow as he read Jesse’s face a little too well. Practically reading his thoughts the way only Lukas could.

“You okay?”

The hero blinked in response before offering him a smile, giving his head a little shake as if to reset his train of thought. “Uh, yeah, yeah. Just… not looking forward to this.”

Lukas gave a short laugh as he began unpackaging the dressings. “Please. It’s not gonna be that bad. Though-“

He paused to rummage through the little pouch he’d brought, giving a soft “aha!” as he pulled out a small vial. Jesse squinted at the colourless liquid.

“Disinfectant.” Lukas answered Jesse’s unasked question, setting the bottle down beside him. “Needs to go on your wounds. I’m sure you know it’s not gonna be pleasant.”

The hero grimaced, faintly remembering its sickly sting, all too familiar. “Fun.”

Lukas only offered him a tight-lipped smile—a half-assed expression of his sympathy—before gesturing for Jesse’s left arm. He relented, stretching it out for Lukas to take his upper arm into soft, gentle hands. The author inspected the dressing carefully, the scrutiny from those narrow blue eyes making Jesse feel awfully vulnerable. He dodged his gaze, trying to focus on some random spot in the tiled walls before his face turned pink.

Get a grip, Jesse.

“Ah.” He hummed, fingers tracing the medical tape he’d used to attach the gauze padding. “This won’t be fun to rip off either. Sorry.”

“You and that fucking crossbow.” Jesse sighed bemusedly, screwing up his eyes in anticipation. “Count of three?”

“Sure.” Lukas held both strips firm between his thumb and forefinger, and Jesse unfortunately didn’t notice the vague smirk that ghosted over his features. “One.”

Sharp pain briefly scorched Jesse’s shoulder as the archer abruptly ripped the tape in one swift, fluid motion. Jesse gritted his teeth, a groan slipping past them.

“ Argh , you dick, I wasn’t ready! ” He playfully batted at Lukas’ arm as the archer tossed the scraps aside, the pair giggling a little as he did. “You’ve probably taken, like, all the hair off my arm with it.”

Lukas snorted as he peeled back the bandage, reaching down to uncork the solution and tip a small amount of the liquid onto a cloth. “Free wax.” He put simply, gently dabbing at the area. Jesse bit his lip as the familiar chemical sting crept into the laceration.

“How’s it looking?” He mumbled, sucking in a breath.

“Hmm.” The author reached for a new dressing, squinting at the area before slowly applying it. “Very bruised, but not infected. It’ll heal.”

Sticking the plaster down, another smirk made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Sorry for knocking you around. But you did hit me.”

“Water under the bridge, Lukas.”

Lukas scoffed, shaking his head, a slight, sudden seriousness glancing over his face. “Seriously, Jesse. You get this banged up and you really don’t know how or why it happened?”

“Psh.” Jesse rolled his eyes, half-grinning. “You’d be surprised.”

Lukas moved onto the next bandage, brow furrowing. “I feel like you’re still downplaying the situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, I mean- “ Lukas paused to throw a hand to the side in a gesture of exasperation. “-What if your horse had spooked sooner? What if there were more mobs in the woods? What if I hadn’t stepped outside in time? You may have gotten… insanely lucky, but you still could’ve died.”

Truthfully, the thought made Jesse’s blood run cold, and he had to suppress the shiver that threatened to shoot up his spine before responding.

“Please. I’ve been in worse situations. You learn to keep moving. Like-“

He reached to pull up his one intact trouser leg, revealing a brace around the grazed kneecap. Lukas’ eyes widened in alarm.

“Shattered my knee last year running from bandits. Petra had to carry me out. And this-“

He twisted around to point at an odd scar, almost diamond shaped in appearance beneath his shoulder blade. “Trident. Enchanted, too. Hurt like a bitch, plus I think it punctured a lung. I dunno, I wasn’t conscious. Oh, and this-“

Jesse tugged one of his bandages aside to reveal a jagged scar stretching across a few of his ribs, clearly having been stitched up previously. “Hey, that one’s a stab wound too. Put me out of commission for a month. And yet I’m practically on bed rest for this leg. Dramatic, much?”

He honestly didn’t know what he expected out of Lukas, but when he looked up, his exaggerated grin was only met with a horrified expression. His smile faltered as he sheepishly looked away, waiting for Lukas to break the silence.

“Shit, Jesse.” The author breathed out at last, annoyance edging his tone. “You’ve got, like, zero regard for your own life. Seriously. I don’t know how you just… brush this off like it’s nothing.”

He shook his head, pulling Jesse’s arm back into position to keep working on his dressings. “I’m being serious. You could’ve wound up dead last night. Do you understand that? Or are you being dense on purpose?”

Jesse didn’t want to understand, so he forced himself not to think about that or the bitterness that flared in the author’s voice. He slumped back against the bathtub, chest aching with bruises and rejection.

The author heaved another sigh as he returned his focus to Jesse’s bandages, his voice barely a whisper.

“You used to be smarter than this, Jesse.”

As Lukas moved down both of his arms, the pair fell into a strange silence, only interrupted by Jesse’s occasional wince with every fresh tear of tape taking what felt like a layer of skin with it. It wasn’t exactly tense, with the author placing his full, careful attention on Jesse’s battered body, but it still made the hero’s skin crawl. He had no real idea why.

After a while, it started to knock him sick. Lukas’ touch was fleeting, his care feeling merely obligatory: exactly what was required of him, and nothing more.

It made Jesse desperately long for the old days, when Lukas would tell him stories to keep him distracted from the drilling pain of being sewn up or the harsh burn of the disinfectant. When his hands would linger, wandering over to Jesse’s, squeezing his hand as their fingers intertwined. When his thumb would trace over Jesse’s jaw, pulling him close, eye to eye in the silent, almost telepathic reassurance. I’m here, I got you. A shared understanding. A steady, reliable comfort.

Every time those fingers met Jesse’s skin, he caught himself longing for more. For something, anything, that would take him back, just for a second. That would quiet his brain, which screamed the reminder that things had irreparably changed.

You knew this would happen. You left, and you’ve broken something.

He managed to fight off the thought, though it never fully left. Lukas’ grasp, cautious and methodical and far too hesitant, began to burn worse than the disinfectant.

“C’mere a second?”

Lukas’ voice snapped him out of his trance and he turned his head to look at him. Unexpectedly, his hand reached up to cup Jesse’s face, pulling him in close by the jaw.

The hero’s eyes blew wide, hoping desperately that his face growing hot wasn’t visible as the archer raked his gaze over the bruises across it.

Lukas hummed thoughtfully, oblivious, his other free hand reaching up to brush Jesse’s curls out of the way to dab the solution onto the butterfly-bandaged gash that cut his eyebrow in two. Jesse fought to keep his breathing steady, to slow the heartbeat that pummelled his ribs, to resist the urge to lean in closer.

“Your eye is looking better.” The author’s breath grazed his flushed cheek. Glacial blue eyes narrow with focus, slender hands painfully gentle, he tilted Jesse’s face to the side, thumb lightly tracing over his bruised jaw.

The hero’s breath caught in his throat, and only then did he dare to glance over at Lukas’ face instead of purposefully staring straight ahead at the wall. He faltered a little as he met those eyes, the author too concentrated to return his gaze. That final sliver of hope dissipated into smoke in an instance as he did.

There was no warmth, none of that nostalgic fondness that used to make his blue eyes sparkle, crinkling in the corners.

There was no soft exasperation, no traces of that playful, knowing look he used to give him as he chastised the hero for not being more careful.

There was nothing—absolutely nothing behind his observation but focus—a dutiful, detached, systematic deliberation that carried on his steady gaze.

It was obligation in place of affection. And it made Jesse’s stomach drop.

And then, Lukas’ grasp loosened, taking with it any and all of Jesse’s desperate faith in their lingering connection.

“Uhm.” He managed to stutter, recoiling backwards slightly as the author’s hands reached for the bloodied bandages on his abdomen. His breathing quickened, and he internally cursed at himself, fighting to control his sudden, oncoming panic. “Can we- can I have a minute?”

Jesse just caught sight of Lukas’ soft, concerned frown before he ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in a feeble attempt to chase away the stinging that lingered behind them.

“Of course. You doing okay?”

Creators, his voice was soft.

“Uh, yeah.” The hero winced at the crack in his voice, clearing his throat. “Yeah. It’s just… I just need a minute. It’s a lot.”

Lukas hummed amusedly. Jesse felt that he wasn’t entirely sold on his excuse. Thankfully, he still went along with it.

“No fun, huh?”

Jesse sniffed, laughing behind his hands. “Hah. Yeah. No fun.”

They fell back into silence. Jesse tucked his knees up to his chest, ignoring the pang it sent into his side as he folded his arms and rested his face on top of them. Part of him waited for Lukas’ hand to meet his, stroking little circles over the scarred knuckles the way he used to. He smothered the distant memory of comfort, screwing up his face. The thought only deepened the chasm in his chest, the sickly sensation growing with each sharp, stilted inhale that sent a harsh stab into his bruised ribs.

Eventually, Jesse heard Lukas shift on the floor, drawing in a breath.

“Uh, how’s Petra?” He managed, voice hesitant and gentle, as though Jesse would shatter into pieces if he raised it any louder. Appreciative of the distraction, Jesse peered over his arms, still not quite able to meet the author’s steady blue gaze.

“Um. S-she’s good.” Jesse wrestled with his breathing just enough to let the reply escape.

“Yeah?” He prompted. It would be patronising if it wasn’t so nice, the sickly dulcet tone a faint comfort against Jesse’s ears. He sucked in a few deep breaths before continuing, steadying his pounding heart.

“Y-yeah. Last I heard from her, she was on her way to collect some bounties with Jack, I think. We, u-uh, do that for money sometimes. Or just for something to do. She’s a lot more confident now.”

“Huh. I didn’t realise Petra could get any more confident.”

Jesse laughed a little, wiping his face. “Trust me, back when you knew her, it was all a front. But you should see h-her out there now. It’s like… it’s where she’s meant to be. Racing up and down the world, her and her horse.”

“Hmm. What’s it called?”

“Uh, Ellie. She’s this huge Ardennes, strong enough to carry all our supplies, and fast too. She’s badass but I know Petra baby-talks her when she thinks no one’s looking.”

Lukas chuckled, a wistful smile settling over his face. “Sounds about right.”

“Speaking of-“ Jesse sniffled a little, finally straightening up. “-Can you keep an eye out for Goldie? I’m sure she’ll find her way over here.” His heart twisted a little for his beloved horse, guilt ghosting across his features. “You’ll know when you see her. She’s got a pack with all my stuff in, and iron armour.”

Decidedly braving the eye contact, Jesse’s brown puppy eyes glanced over to Lukas, who offered a smile in return. He was sure he’d imagined it, but there was a gentle, wary fondness behind it. It made his heart leap nonetheless, forcing him to stare down at the floor again. His heart had finally slowed, his breathing manageable, he just needed a little longer to quiet his racing thoughts.

“Of course.” He murmured softly, his voice coming across almost crooning. Jesse felt his face growing pink again.

Don’t be stupid.

Silence, much more comfortable this time, fell over them again. Shuffling back into a crossed-leg sitting position, allowing Lukas access to the last bandage, Jesse cleared his throat.

“Uh, I’m okay to keep going.”

Lukas only hummed again, leaning forwards to carefully peel back the tape, tenderly unwrapping the gauze. Jesse still didn’t dare to look at the injury, instead keeping his eyes trained on the top of Lukas’ head as the author softly cleaned it, inspecting his own handiwork with a faint pride.

“Looks good.” The archer reported, unfolding a new dressing. “By the way, these-“ He trailed off to focus on placing it just right before smoothing it down with his fingertips. “-are waterproof. I got them from the doctor on my way back, as per Olivia’s suggestion. So you can take a much-needed shower.”

Jesse tried not to take offence to the sly grin that played across Lukas’ expression, scoffing in reply. “That bad, huh?”

“You’ve, uh, definitely smelled better.”

The pair laughed as Lukas straightened up, his hand softly dragging across Jesse’s leg as he did, almost as though reluctant to relinquish the contact. His glacial gaze lingered on Jesse’s features for a little too long, and Jesse steadily met it.

“Actually, do that now, and I’ll make dinner. Here-“

He twisted around to retrieve a pile of clothes from behind him, setting them on top of the laundry basket beside them both. It was a shirt and shorts, both faintly familiar.

“I found these. Some old clothes you left. I’ve got no idea if they’ll still fit though. I mean, now you’re, uh.” Lukas dodged Jesse’s gaze, swallowing hard. “A lot more… built .”

Jesse was honestly having a hard time of not reading into that until a realisation dawned on him, ultimately a more pressing matter than overthinking Lukas’ awkward compliment.

“Wait.” He drummed his fingers on his leg cast rhythmically. “What do I do about this?”

Lukas paused, brow creasing. “Um… I, uh. Didn’t think about that.”

They both hesitated, Jesse awkwardly scratching the back of his neck in thought. Eventually, the author rose to his feet with a stretch, knees cracking, before slipping out of the door, tossing out one last comment before he did.

“I’ll get a trash bag.”

Chapter Text

Lukas very quickly began to regret choosing to work from home.

Within the first week, he’d started to feel almost caged—claustrophobic, even—as the man who he’d barely been able to keep out of his dreams for the last five years was suddenly inescapable even in the waking world. It wasn’t exactly a bad experience; Jesse seemed to be making a conscious effort to take up as little space as possible, being incredibly polite and careful in everything he did.

In a way, that made it worse. Whenever he grew bored of the endless paperwork, Lukas would find himself chatting with Jesse, prompting him for tales of his adventures and catching himself laughing along with the hero’s jokes. It was hesitant at first, with Lukas being reluctant to interact with his old friend, but it quickly started to remind him far too much of the old times, their dynamic slipping into something more familiar. Then, a sudden, intense anger would overwhelm his mind, thoughts racing.

All those years spent avoiding me for what? To act like nothing happened?

The emotional whiplash had started to fry his brain after a while, forcing him to return to being as closed-off as possible, trying as hard as he could to ignore Jesse’s confused expression and the hurt that hid behind those damn puppy eyes every time he snapped or brushed him off or pretended he was too busy to hear him. He wasn’t going to let Jesse make him feel bad. Not after everything.

Well, that was a lie. That first time he’d changed Jesse’s bandages, and one of his panic episodes set in (which, truthfully, Lukas was surprised he still got them), he’d made a conscious effort to distract the hero from whatever had made him freak out, heart twisting at the way he fought to keep his breathing level and guilt reaching in from the dark corners of his brain at the idea that it might’ve been his fault.

Obviously, Lukas was keeping him at arms length for a reason.

These three months will pass, and he’ll leave again. And there’s no telling how long it’ll be until he’s back, if at all, what with all the shit he gets into.

But that fleeting moment, his brief display of softness towards his old friend, it sparked something in him. Reminded him of the way they used to be. And from then on, he’d often catch himself—or some small, repressed part of him—longing for more of it.

Maybe I do need to get more sleep, he’d think every time without fail. I’m clearly going insane.

It didn’t help that he’d given up his bed. Lukas couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed or bitter about that; after all, there was no way Jesse would be able to sleep on the couch with a busted everything. But that didn’t make it any more comfortable for Lukas. After a few weeks, he’d totally given up on retaining a normal sleep schedule, choosing to stay awake to get more work done instead of hopelessly tossing and turning for hours while the springs in his old leather sofa jabbed bruises into his back. As the weeks went by, and the beginnings of November descended upon the town, the effects of his poor sleep became more and more profound.

Lukas paid no mind to it. After all, it’s not like he usually got eight hours a night anyway. An extra cup of coffee made up for lost sleep well enough for him to get through the limitless stack of permits and trade negotiations and whatever else Radar would decide on a whim to stick through his mailbox.

Despite this, it simply proved too much one afternoon. Lukas had been poring over trade negotiations at his desk for a whole morning, growing increasingly frustrated with the farming town’s demands that grew with every successful exchange. It was like they were trying their luck, seeing how far they could push Beacontown. And, running on about five hours of sleep, two cups of coffee and pure, liquid stress, Lukas was in no mood to be pushed.

He heaved a weighty sigh, necking the last of his cup and leaning in closer to the letter, mentally trying to work out how he could lower the farmers’ demands while simultaneously ensuring that the arrangement wouldn’t fall through, leaving Beacontown to go hungry until Radar figured out how to rejuvenate its own crop supplies.

In short, he felt utterly and completely strung out.

“Y’know, I think Dewey might be starting to like me.”

Jesse’s voice sounded from the couch. He lay draped over it, doodling in the journal Lukas had given him, with Dewey nestled in the crook of his neck. Lukas could hear the smile edging his tone, and the rhythmic drumming of his pen against the pages. The sound had started to get on his nerves long ago.

“Uh-huh?” Lukas breathed out, falsifying his engagement as best he could muster. It came across a little patronising, though Jesse didn’t seem to pick up on it, humming to himself as he continued.

“Yeah. He’s like, super friendly with me now. Maybe cause I feed him sometimes.”

Truthfully, the ocelot had never had any issues with Jesse. If anything, he had been fascinated with the hero, always rushing over to chirp at him whenever he’d stayed at Lukas’ place. But cats are smart, especially Dewey, who had picked up on Jesse’s hesitance pretty fast.

He had never been a big pet person—let alone cat person—after Reuben.

“Mm.” Lukas just feigned his agreement, sighing again as he did. The sound of Jesse tapping his pen and quietly singing to himself felt like a drill in his sleep-deprived brain. Eyelids growing heavy, he blindly reached for the empty mug and internally cursed after attempting to drink from it, giving himself a frustrated tap on his forehead as if to try and jumpstart his frazzled mind.

Distantly, he felt Jesse’s head turn, staring straight in his direction. The author didn’t meet his gaze, running the mental maths again while scribbling on a scrap piece of paper, willing his brain to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Dude.” Jesse began again, words coming out in a short, mildly incredulous laugh that grated on Lukas’ already frayed nerves. “You’re sat, like, inches away from the paper. That cannot be good for your eyes. I think you need reading glasses or something.”

“Okay?” Lukas rolled his eyes, voice laden with exhaustion and exasperation. The hero’s commentary had been running all day, causing that familiar, building anger to rise within him like a single, hungry flame. Jesse sighed, tossing a hand to the side in frustration at the lack of response.

“Why are you being snippy?” The hero put simply, his brow furrowing in Lukas’ peripheral vision. The archer’s eyes narrowed, irritably glancing over to Jesse then back at his work.

“…I’m not being anything.” Lukas eventually muttered, absentmindedly jotting something down before aggressively scribbling it out, a groan slipping out from behind gritted teeth.

“Uh, yeah you are. You’ve been snapping at me all week.”

Lukas scoffed, still not looking up from his paper. He knew that the rage simmering beneath his skin was unreasonable, but he still had to make a conscious attempt to stuff it down, swallowing the venom that rose in his throat. “I’m just busy, okay?”

“You’ve been busy and not acted like this.”

His anger finally got the best of him, forcing the author to slam his pen down and swivel around to face Jesse, giving him an exasperated frown.

“Acted like what , Jesse?”

Jesse frowned, affronted. “A dick.”

“Oh, thanks.” Lukas scoffed. “Real mature. Sorry I have to do my job.”

“Your job doesn’t give you to right to speak to me like I’m stupid.” Jesse’s tone peaked, voice cracking with the volume of his frustration. Dewey gave a disgruntled meow at the disturbance.

“Oh, shut up . I don’t have time for this.” The archer hissed, rolling his eyes and trying to pay attention to his work again. Unfortunately for his mounting aggravation, the words on the page barely registered in his brain, the beginnings of a headache creeping into it. He rubbed at his eyes, once again willing himself to focus, but it was fruitless.

Even as Jesse fell silent with a scorned scoff, Lukas still felt agitated. Jumpy. Caged. And he needed to get out of there to cool off before he suffocated, growing hot under the collar of his t-shirt.

He shot to his feet with far too much caffeine-induced energy, head starting to pound as he stormed across the living room.

“I’m going out.” He spat, voice breaking. He snatched his jacket and scarf off the armour stand, jerkily pulling them onto himself as he yanked the door open and slammed it back shut. Jesse tossed a sharp “fine!” through the doorway as the archer slid out of it, internally screaming as he stomped down his porch steps towards the town centre.

He’d only meant to go for a walk, pace around until he’d cooled off and cleared his head. The way he usually did whenever he and Jesse clashed, or when their predicament became too much for Lukas to handle.

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe the lack of sleep. The steady, drumming headache that rattled his thoughts. Or the building rage in his chest with every word left unsaid, every memory turned bitter, every time Jesse refused to acknowledge how incredibly weird the situation truly was.

His five year absence. His sudden return. His brush with death.

The old times, and all the things they never spoke about.

Whatever it was, it made Lukas’ eyes brim with tears, hot and searing and precarious, threatening to slip down his cold-bitten cheeks.

Cursing at himself, he desperately scrubbed at his face, refusing to cry in front of the town. He begged his thoughts to slow down, his face to stop turning pink, his throat and chest to stop dully stinging with the suppressed emotion. It hardly worked; the first tear that fell was followed by a few more, and they kept coming and coming until Lukas had no choice but to duck out of sight between two buildings, biting back a sob as best he could.

Creators, Lukas. Get a fucking grip.

The archer stayed perfectly still for a while, screwing up his face and making repeated attempts to swallow his overwhelm until he had at least a weak handle on his emotions. Out of the corner of his blurry eye, he realised he’d automatically walked in the direction of town hall.

I just need a distraction. I’ll go see if Radar needs a hand. It’s gonna be fine.

Finally steadying himself with a slow, deep breath, he marched onwards to the beat of his headache, slipping past the crowds that hung around the building and up towards the office. He urgently hoped that his eyes didn’t look too misty as he delivered a swift rap to the door, opening it with a forced grin haphazardly plastered across his features.

Unexpectedly, the author was met with the sight of Olivia at the desk, snapping her head up to the source of the noise in surprise, eyes softening with recognition. She sat poring over some blueprints, her lab coat neatly folded over the chair behind her as she sketched.

“Oh, hey Lukas. Didn’t know you were coming in. Radar’s out, so I’m just making some edits to your blueprints in the meantime. They’re great, just a little structurally unstable.” She shot him a warm smile, pausing to trace little shapes in the air with her pencil as though visualising the solution.

“Ah, no worries. I figured as much.”

His reply was cut short by a telltale wobble in his voice, the final traces of his earlier breakdown proving themselves hard to shake. The author cleared his throat as he cringed, avoiding eye contact and sliding out of his jacket, hanging it up on the rack.

Lukas could almost feel Olivia’s expression shifting into one of vague concern, her tone growing gentle and questioning. “You okay? You seem a little…”

The engineer drew imaginary circles in the air again, searching for the word. “…Off.”

“Uh, yeah.” Lukas stuttered out, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache continued to rattle his exhausted brain. “Yeah. Just, uh. Tired, is all.”

Olivia didn’t seem convinced, quirking a brow as Lukas took the seat across from her.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” She put bluntly, ending her sentence with a halfhearted laugh as though to soften the statement. Lukas only groaned in reply, planting his face in his hands.

I guess I’m still an awful liar.

“You… wanna talk about it?”

The author peeked between his fingers, hesitantly meeting Olivia’s curious brown eyes, softening with worry as she reached out to plant a comforting hand on his forearm. Lukas sighed, defeated.

“You were right.”

————————————

Olivia tried to be a sympathetic ear, she really did. She listened to Lukas’ grievances, confessions, what he made of the whole situation, offering her best, thoughtful advice.

But even so, hearing about the archer’s gripes with Jesse, her mind couldn’t help but wander over to the thought of the cake that Axel almost certainly owed her now.

She fought to keep the triumph out of her expression, nodding along as Lukas finally admitted she was right all along, and this whole crapsack situation was too much for anyone to handle. She’d known that, but didn’t dare push it, noting the lines of stress and fatigue under his eyes every time he’d popped in for more work.

I don’t know why people don’t listen to me more, she briefly humoured herself before continuing to wrack her brain for a way around the situation.

Lukas fell back in his chair with a nettled groan as he finished his ramble, cupping a mug of tea in his hands. Olivia had refused him coffee, pretending they were all out of the stuff upon catching a glimpse of the way his fingers trembled with far too much caffeinated anxiety.

“Jeez.” She murmured, a little stumped. “So… it’s a lot, huh?”

Lukas barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Like I said. You were right.”

“Well, I’ll hold the I-told-you-so.”

The archer offered her a weak, exhausted smile as she sipped her tea, carefully choosing her words before she spoke.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lukas. I mean, I haven’t seen Jesse in years either-“

A calculated lie. He and Petra had swung through Redstonia quite a few times to rest or just say hi before jetting off to some unexplored corner of the world. She’d suspended her judgement, assuming that they had their reasons for seemingly trying to become some kind of Soren-esque urban legend in Beacontown, and ultimately decided to keep it to herself.

“-So in all honesty, I’d freak out too if I was in your shoes.”

The truth. Even if she did see the adventuring pair maybe twice a year, Jesse was still her best friend before he left. It was as much a shock to her as anyone. After all, the hero built a town from the ground up and acted the voice of reason in the New Order for years, only to then go and run off into the wilderness with minimal communication.

As happy as his friends were for him, it took a whole lot of getting used to.

Having him return full-time out of nowhere would be… unthinkable.

Olivia chewed her lip, face scrunched up in quiet contemplation.

And not to mention the state Lukas found him in. I mean, poor guy! I can’t imagine how that would’ve felt.

Lukas shrugged, running a hand over his weary face. The look in his eyes was reminiscent of the sleep-deprived irritability he’d been consumed by the last time she’d stayed in Beacontown.

Of course. I forget the guy’s response to stress is to just… go a little crazy. No wonder he’s breaking down.

The author breathed a rough, heavy sigh. “I don’t get it, Liv. I was handling it. Sure, he’s been driving me up the wall, but I was doing okay until now. The argument wasn’t even that bad, I just… snapped.”

He made a claw gesture with a free hand to express his frustration as he took a sip from his cup. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

“Well, prolonged stress does start to manifest in physical symptoms-“

“-I know, Olivia, I read your students’ research papers.” Lukas gave an amused huff, cutting her off. “Doesn’t mean you have to send me them every term.”

Olivia gave a feigned scoff. “Hey, if you can mail me photos of Dewey in the same three sweaters, I retain the right to send you my favourite essay every once in a while. As a fiction writer I’d imagine you’d appreciate the variety.”

Lukas smirked, relenting, though the far-off look in his eyes didn’t budge.

“Look, maybe it’s a good idea to come back into work.” Olivia offered, voice consciously gentle. “And I’m not just saying that. I mean, from what Radar’s told me, it sounds like you’re working your socks off, regardless of whether you’re in the office or not. But you might need some space from each other. For the sake of your sanity.”

“Probably.” Lukas muttered, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, actually. I just… can’t stop being angry at him.”

“Like how?” Olivia leaned in, curious.

“Like…” Lukas stuttered, abstractly waving his hand as he searched for an explanation. “He can drive me nuts, yeah, but… it stings worse when he’s just being the plain old Jesse I remember. It reminds me that… the guy I thought I knew better than anyone-“

He trailed off, narrowing his gaze, jaw tensing in an effort to bite back his overwhelm.

“It never once crossed his mind to write, or visit, Creators , maybe even stay . It just hurts. I thought I… everything we’ve been through… meant more to him than that.”

Olivia’s heart twisted sympathetically as the author heaved another sigh, scrubbing at his face with a shaky palm. “I know.” She murmured, though she didn’t.

Lukas squeezed his eyes shut. Olivia offered her hand, reaching across the table, and he gratefully accepted, allowing the engineer to rhythmically trace little circles over the knuckle.

“It’s not fair .” His voice was barely a whisper, that treacherous wobble threatening to lay thick over each syllable once again. “I was finally over it. All of it. I was over him .”

Oh, Axel owes me that cake so hard.

Olivia hastily shoved the idea off of her train of thought, pointedly sipping her tea as a distraction before a severely inappropriate smirk dared to sneak onto her face. Lukas eased his grip on her hand, weakly laughing as he reached up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

“Jeez. Sorry. That was a lot, I just-” He sucked in a breath, another short laugh serving as a deflection. “-Haven’t said any of this out loud before.”

“Hah. In future? Maybe you should.” Olivia mused, attempting to lighten the mood with a playful grin. “Lukas, you know I love you, but you’re a mess.”

The archer gave a genuine chuckle this time, feigning an affronted expression. “Ouch. That’s… a fair assessment, actually.”

“Maybe, I don’t know…” The engineer wracked her brain for any advice that would be remotely helpful. It was a weird situation, and while she’d pretty much figured out what was going on as soon as Lukas stopped showing up for Jesse’s letters, she was still a little taken aback by the full truth, unsure how to navigate the predicament.

Olivia may be smart, but she was still a little clueless.

Creators, this stuff isn’t my strong suit. Ironically, it was once Jesse’s.

“I’d say talk to him, honestly. It’s not going to get any better if you don’t. You’ve clearly got some kind of…”

Bitter situationship?

“Unresolved issues.” She finished decisively. “You could always… ask him why he left?”

A flare of irritation visibly ran through the author at the suggestion. It clearly wasn’t aimed at her, but Olivia dodged his gaze anyway, awkwardly finishing the last of her cup.

“Maybe I don’t want to know why he left.” Lukas sighed, setting down his own mug to wring his hands. Olivia furrowed her brow, searching for another suggestion.

“Look, Jesse’s here for three months, regardless of whether or not you get all the answers out of him or not. I know it’s easier said than done, but I’m sure it’ll go a lot easier if you just try to let go of your grudge against him, even just for a little while.”

She straightened up, eyes growing a little wider with enthusiasm as she vaguely realised she was onto something.

“Try and get along with him, like old times. Get to know him again, yknow?”

The authors eyes flashed. “What, and get attached?”

Olivia shrugged. “It could be fun.”

“Okay, then what do I do when he leaves again? I know he’s going to do it, Liv, he’s already dying to get out there. And I… I can’t do that again. I can’t get myself back into the same state I was in the first time he left. It was hell .”

Lukas breathed out a frustrated groan, sheepishly grinning at the engineer as he drummed shaky fingers against his thigh.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be difficult. It feels like I’m just… putting down every suggestion.”

“Hey, it doesn’t bother me. I mean, what do you think I do for a living? We’ll call it trial and error.”

“Hah. Yeah. I just… it was hard, yknow? When he first left, it was like… ugh, Creators, I can’t even put it into words. Jesse was…“

Pleading glacial eyes met Olivia’s steady dark ones, swimming with emotion and silently willing her to not make him say the quiet part out loud. A small smile tugged at her mouth; partly her offering a silent reassurance, and partly her planning the letter she was going to send Axel as soon as this was over.

“…My best friend.” Lukas finished simply. Olivia tried her best to act like she believed a word of that, letting him continue. “And I can’t go through that again.”

The engineer hummed thoughtfully in reply. “I guess we’ll deal with that when we come to it. But there’s no use in making yourself miserable up until he leaves, only to be, like, even miserable-er.”

“Hah.” Lukas snorted, grinning. “You… have a point.”

“I usually do.”

The pair fell silent, the archer clearly mulling over her words. Eventually, he smiled softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Thanks, Liv. I know you’re busy, but… this helped. A lot.”

“It’s no problem, Lukas. What are friends for?” She grinned, folding her arms.

Lukas stretched, shoulders popping as he rose to his feet. “I best go get some actual work done. I’ll let you get on with it.”

With that, Lukas strolled towards the exit, grabbing his coat off the rack. Olivia waved a hasty goodbye, calling after him.

“Hah, good luck! Let me know how it goes!”

The author shot her a thumbs-up through the door before shutting it with a soft click, leaving Olivia in a sudden, total silence, the newfound absence of sound leaving her ears ringing and her mind blank.

Huh. That was… honest.

She glanced down at the blueprints, then up at the door, then back down again, blinking hard before pulling a new piece of paper out in front of her, rushing to jot down her thoughts.

Dear Axel. I got your ass. Strawberry with sprinkles, please.

Chapter Text

That night, Lukas had made up with Jesse. It was subtle, and hesitant, tackled in a way reminiscent of how someone would approach a startled, wild animal. No words were exchanged; Lukas had simply walked over to Jesse, who had just put out food for Dewey, and handed him a small, brown paper package. Inside it, Jesse’s age-old favourite cookies from the town bakery.

In all honesty, he’d walked a few laps around the town before the memory came back to him. It had been a while since he’d actively tried to think about the old times with Jesse instead of making a conscious, resolute effort to repress them deeper and deeper into his brain.

Jesse clearly hadn’t cooled off, meeting Lukas’ eyes with a scowl before catching sight of the peace offering. He held the stare, gaze softening as he tentatively accepted.

The unspoken exchange said a lot. No more snapping. No more distance.

I’m sorry.

Wary, Jesse narrowed his eyes, taking the packet. His mouth fell open, stuttering as he searched for an appropriate response.

“…Thanks.” He eventually decided, straightening up on his crutches in an attempt to rise to Lukas’ eye level. It didn’t work, given their height disparity. Lukas held his gaze anyway, nodding.

“Don’t mention it.” He murmured, before strolling past the hero to get started on dinner.

He honestly wasn’t sure it had worked, until late that night.

In an attempt to make up for lost time, Lukas decided, naturally, to stay awake until stupid o’clock, his skewed circadian rhythm kicking in to allow the author to pull through with the last of his papers. As some kind of reward for finally doing his actual job, he’d drank a glass of wine or two halfway through, and now lay across his sofa, bundled in a blanket with letters in his lap and Dewey curled up at his feet, gently twitching as a dream (undoubtedly something chasing-chickens-related) filled his furry head.

The house was silent, besides the faint sound of crickets and nocturnal birds hidden in the vegetation just beyond the clearing. It was pitch black outside, the town smothered in the thick blanket of night, the only light for miles being the transparent amber glow of streetlights that filtered in through the slats of his shutters, and the lamp beside Lukas’ head, just bright enough for him to make out the words on the page without squinting.

He flipped over the letter, jotting down something about iron ingots, feeling calm for what was probably the first time in weeks.

Whether Jesse accepts the apology or not, it’s a weight off. I just hope Olivia is right about all this. I mean, she usually is.

As if to punctuate the thought, a floorboard creaked distantly, and Lukas’ head snapped up towards the direction of the sound. He was met with a pair of wide brown eyes peering out from the hallway.

“Oh, hey.” Jesse’s voice sounded hoarse, barely breaking a whisper as he stepped into the light, grinning sheepishly and dodging eye contact.

“I, uh. Didn’t realise you were still up. I was just getting a drink.”

“Uh, glasses are in the top cupboard.” Lukas vaguely pointed into the kitchen. Jesse nodded, disappearing into it.

The author frowned back down at his letter, freshly knocked out of his focus. Jesse looked  uneasy, shaky and pale as though he’d seen a ghast. He decided to say something, breaking the strange tension as soon as the hero reemerged with a glass of water.

“You… okay?” He tried gently, raising a brow.

Jesse sighed, half-smiling awkwardly as he searched for the words. “Uh, yeah.” He mumbled, though he didn’t budge from where he stood, held still by some invisible force. Lukas waited, curiosity piquing as the hero finished his glass and drew in one long, shaky inhale before giving in.

“You, uh.” He began awkwardly, setting down the empty cup and wrapping his bandaged arms around himself, leaning against the wall with his elbows on the handles of his crutches. “You still get nightmares?”

Lukas gave a short, amused exhale through his nose. “It’s been… like, what, a decade? And I still dream about that fucking computer.”

Jesse gave a halfhearted chuckle. “Aha, I don’t blame you. PAMA was terrifying.”

“Hmm.” Lukas smirked thoughtfully, internally cringing a little at the memory. He wasn’t sure when he was going to get over his body being occupied by a program that aimed for nothing but inhuman efficiency and Jesse’s capture, if ever. It didn’t bother him nearly as much as it used to, back when the memory was still raw and the weathered scar on the base of his skull still tender. But from time to time, red flashes still occupied his brain. He tried not to dwell on it.

“Can’t sleep?”

Jesse shook his head. “Hah. Nope. In all honesty, I’m uh, a bit freaked.”

“You look it.” Lukas put simply, raking his blue eyes over the hero’s trembling figure. There was sympathy behind his voice, though, and he kept his expression level, offering him a short smile in solidarity.

Jesse returned it, gripping his crutches again and stepping closer to peer over the back of the couch. “What you up to?”

“Uh, trade deals. Our farms are busted at the moment, so I’ve got to go through the headache of working all these deals out every week. I swear, they get braver every-“

“Sleep with me?”

Lukas’ head swivelled around to face Jesse like a hawk, taken aback. Jesse’s expression dropped, jaw going slack and cheeks very quickly turning a stark shade of pink.

What the… did I hear that right?

“Huh?” Was all Lukas managed, smirking in an attempt to mask his own reddening face and ears.

Jesse scrambled for an explanation, awkwardly laughing. “ Creators , that came out wrong. Uh, I-I meant like- I just didn’t want to be, uhm. O-on my own, so I thought like sharing… never mind. It’s stupid. Goodnight!”

With that, he gripped his crutches until his knuckles turned white, knocking them against the hallway wall and nearly toppling over in his haste to exit the room as fast as possible.

Lukas merely blinked in his absence, a little baffled as he processed the interaction. Then, after a moment, he wordlessly shifted his workload onto the coffee table, switching off the lamp as he rose to his feet in pursuit of the hero.

Creators, am I seriously doing this? He wondered vaguely, deciding to ignore it.

He softly pushed open the bedroom door, peeking through the gap.

As his eyes adjusted to the voidlike darkness, the author could faintly make out the silhouette of Jesse, illuminated just enough by the weak glow of the moon in the window, lying on his back with an arm tossed across his face.

“Hey.” Lukas whispered, careful not to startle the already embarrassed man. He just caught sight of the flash of Jesse’s brown eyes in the bluish light. “You gonna move over or what?”

Jesse paused, mouth agape, before rushing to shuffle to one side. “U-uh, yeah. Yeah. ‘Course.”

Lukas wandered over and slid into the warm covers, chuckling to himself. “Don’t think I’m doing this cause I want to, okay? If I have to sleep on that couch one more time… I think I’ll wake up paralysed. You’re lucky I’m so chivalrous, really.”

The hero snorted in response, turning away from Lukas as he settled into bed. “Oh, sure. I’m eternally grateful.” He snarked, though he definitely meant it.

The pair fell silent for quite a while, lying back to back. Lukas waited to hear Jesse’s breathing slow, for his gentle, persistent snore to make an appearance, but it never did.

Eventually, the hero shifted onto his back, sighing.

“I keep thinking about what you said.” He breathed out, voice thick.

Lukas turned to face him, folding his arms. He didn’t say anything, only waited for Jesse to continue.

“About dying, I mean. I just… I want you to know that just because I brush it off doesn’t mean I don’t know how serious it was. I’m not stupid.”

“I know.” Lukas murmured gently in reply.

Jesse glared up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose as an uncomfortable pause hung in the air.

“Petra got a wound like this once.” He continued hesitantly. He still refused to meet Lukas’ eyes even for a second as he reached across himself to trace a finger between two of his ribs.

“Right there. We were in the portals, fighting this wacko, and their knife just… sshk, right in the ribs. I had to carry her out of there.”

He paused to suck in a breath.

“Before she passed out, her breathing was weird. Like… these short, sharp gasps, so fast she’d never be able to get enough air in. I can still hear it sometimes. And I could see it in her eyes that she thought she was done for.“

Jesse abruptly turned over to look Lukas straight in the eyes. His eyes were screwed up with regret, void-dark in the shadow.

“I’m sorry I did that to you.”

Lukas hummed sympathetically. “You didn’t have much choice.”

“It was…” He trailed off to swallow hard, fighting the wavering in his voice.

“ Creators, Lukas, I was so sure I was going to die.”

He fell quiet for another beat to find the words. Lukas didn’t push it, keeping his eyes trained on his face, lit up blue in the dusky moonlight.

“I just had to keep fucking walking . I-I didn’t know where I was headed, but I couldn’t do anything else. And there’s no way I was gonna just… give up and sit waiting to bleed out. I kept moving and willed myself to stay awake. I don’t know.”

The genuine sorrow in his tone made something ache inside the author. His muscles itched to reach out to the hero, the way he used to.

Don’t be an idiot, Lukas.

“I know I could’ve died. I mean, I don’t like thinking about it, but I do. It’s been on my mind since I got here. But I can’t really do anything else except… keep walking, I guess.”

“You could slow down.” The archer murmured softly.

Jesse shook his head, searching for the words. After a few beats too long, he screwed his face up in frustration, sighing.

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I’m just sorry .”

Lukas steadily blinked back at him, nose to nose with misty brown eyes. The tentative silence seemed to drag on for hours as Lukas wrestled with his racing thoughts, desperately fighting his urge to offer the hero some familiar gesture of comfort. He gritted his teeth, one particular, incredulous question growing louder and louder in his brain.

What the fuck are you doing?

His instinct won out. One soft, gentle hand moved up and hesitantly cupped Jesse’s scarred cheek, his eyes blowing wide and watery as Lukas dragged his thumb across the cheekbone.

The contact felt like home. It was shocking how little time it’d taken them to return to their old ways, but Lukas didn’t want to dwell on that. Nor his anger, or the knowledge that Jesse will leave again, or the hurt that had plagued him for years, and honestly still did.

Instead, he cleared his mind, softened his expression, and murmured some words he didn’t quite believe. For Jesse’s sake.

“It’s okay. You’re safe, and you’re here. That’s all that matters right now. Don’t think about the rest.”

The hero’s jaw set. Lukas could almost sense his muscles tensing in an effort to keep his composure. Eventually, swallowing hard, Jesse gave a short, shaky laugh, faintly grinning in the dark.

“Um. Thanks, Lukas. I’d say I owe you my life, but I think I already did. Like… twenty times over.”

The archer smirked in response. “Bygones, right?”

“Hah, yeah. Bygones.”

Lukas chuckled, sliding his hand up to give Jesse’s hair a playful ruffle. He wished he hadn’t, because as soon as he turned back over, he was choked with the desire to bury his face in those dark curls, pull the shorter man close to his chest and never let go. It sent a pang through his heart and he fought—properly, this time—to stay rooted to the spot.

Lukas held himself there with a steely focus until he heard Jesse’s snore cut through the still atmosphere, coming to an unfortunate realisation despite his recent attempts at coming to peace with the situation.

This is going to hurt.

Regret crept in from the corners of his brain. He shook it away as a newfound determination set in.

I don’t care. I’m done being angry.

The decision was an instant weight off, his regret and dread gradually melting away until he could finally relax his muscles and breathe.

And, just for a while, he could pretend that Jesse wasn’t going to leave. That this is how things would stay. Side by side in the same bed, the way things used to be.

He’d pretend, if only to keep himself sane.

The next morning, a new conviction alight within him, Lukas decided not to overthink the fact that he’d awoken tangled in Jesse’s arms.

Chapter Text

Jesse woke up to an empty bed and a frazzled brain.

Thinking about it, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Lukas had only stayed to calm his panicked state after that dream.

Yeah , he thought to himself as he sat up in bed. He probably won’t stick around. It was nice though, while it lasted.

Absentmindedly, Jesse reached for his own cheek, feeling for the traces of Lukas’ touch against his skin. It was different this time; warm and deliberate, far from the fleeting contact he’d clearly been keeping to a conscious minimum anytime Jesse needed new bandages. Jesse desperately hoped that the author hadn’t felt his face growing hot or noticed the way his breath caught in his throat.

You need to get a grip, seriously.

Jesse heaved a sigh, grumbling to himself as he straightened up on his crutches and lazily tossed the sheets around until the bed looked somewhat made. He slowly ambled into the kitchen, mind still wandering.

He could barely remember his dream now, being too distracted by Lukas’ velvety voice and his arms eventually wrapping around him in the night. But flashes of Petra’s scream and his own bloody hands and Lukas gasping for air like he’d been stabbed still faintly ricocheted around his brain. Yet another cruel trick from his subconscious.

Creators, I can’t catch a break. I just got those dreams under control, and now? No doubt they’re back for good.

Jesse’s brow furrowed with frustration as he tossed a bit of bread into the toaster, tapping his foot against the wooden floor whilst his train of thought marched on. The static that plagued his mind gradually faded as he processed it, being swiftly replaced by racing thoughts too fast for him to keep up with.

It’s so stupid. I can’t even make sense of them and yet I still wake up feeling like something’s missing, or gravely wrong. Like… I’ve lost something.

The loud ping of the toaster shook Jesse from his spiralling brain. He startled, running a hand over his face.

Jeez. How long have I been staring into space?

Blinking hard, he slapped some butter onto the toast, still not quite paying attention to his surroundings. He was only fully brought back into the present by the sound of Dewey incessantly chirping at his feet.

“Oh! Hey, little guy.” Jesse crooned, turning around and dropping his hand as low as he could manage around the crutches. The large cat balanced on his hind legs, reaching up to push his head into Jesse’s palm. The hero offered a gentle scratch between the ears.

“Snuck up on me. Sneaky thing.”

Dewey purred, ducking to drag his rough tongue over his paws.

“Wait, have you been fed? What time is it?”

Jesse swivelled back around to glance at the clock. He made quick work of grabbing Dewey’s breakfast out of the fridge upon noticing the time, pulling back the can tab and tipping the contents into his bowl.

“My bad, Dewey.” He sighed bemusedly as the ocelot descended onto the food with an excited meow. “Must’ve slept in. What’s Lukas up to, anyway?”

Obviously, the cat did not respond. Jesse briefly reprimanded himself for essentially conversing with a brick wall before taking a fat bite out of his toast and peering out of the kitchen doorway. Sure enough, Lukas was nowhere to be seen. He pushed aside the mild disappointment it sparked, slumping onto the sofa to finish his late breakfast.

Guess he’s working. Well, I knew it would happen eventually. He can’t stick around forever. Who can?

Still, the silence made Jesse’s skin crawl. His own journal caught his eye, left out on the coffee table, open on a page full of stylised doodles of the forest and its animals that he’d drawn while gazing out the window. Lukas was right; it had been an excellent way of passing time.

Hesitantly, he picked it back up—flipping to a blank page—and started writing this time.

Entry 1

I’m bored, so I’m going to take a page out of Lukas’ book (pun not intended) and write. I guess this is becoming a real journal now, huh?

He chuckled to himself briefly before straightening his face, forcing himself to take this seriously. Creators knows I need to, he thought. I’m losing my mind.

I’ve been having these dreams since coming back to Beacontown. Pretty much every night I’ll wake up thinking I’m dead, or that someone I love is dead. I barely remember the dream, just how real it felt, and how I knew I’d lost something. It’s awful, honestly. As if I’ve not been thinking endlessly about dying since I got here, now I can’t escape it in my sleep.

Jesse swallowed hard as he wrote. As cathartic as it was to finally put how he felt into coherent sentences (unlike last night, where he could barely string a sentence together for fear of breaking down in front of Lukas), it still forced him to think about the one thing he’d been making a conscious effort to ignore.

Last night it got too much, and I just wanted to be around someone, as embarrassing as that was to admit. It usually helps quiet my brain, at least for a while. And Lukas has been so closed-off. It’s been like talking to a brick wall until now. I know I’ve got no right to complain, but I’m not used to feeling so lonely when I’m around people.

And then he did that , and I’m just confused all over again. Does he want to be around me or not?

Just when I thought I was figuring us him out.

Jesse scrunched up his face, running a hand over it with a sigh as he tossed the book back onto the table. Dewey appeared in his peripheral vision, offering a curious “mrrp,” and Jesse once again outstretched a hand for the cat to rub against.

“Well,” He murmured to no one in particular. “No one said any of this was gonna be easy.”

Jesse sighed, leaning back in his seat. 

“Guess I’ll have to figure it out.”

Chapter Text

“Is this seriously your plan?”

Jesse’s head snapped up from the windowsill. Lukas had emerged from the kitchen, having washed the dishes, with a bemused smirk playing across his features.

“…Huh?” Jesse managed eventually, confused.

“Just… hiding in here? Staring out the window at the great and scary outdoors?”

Jesse rolled his eyes, turning back around to rest his head on his arms at Lukas’ desk, gazing out into the wilderness beyond.

The sun had long since begun to set, casting the landscape in a blue-orange shadow. The last dying rays spilling over from the horizon just managed to silhouette the glimpses of town that Jesse could catch, the vegetation that framed the clearing blocking the rest of civilisation from view. The sight filled him with endless curiosity and longing.

He glanced back down at the journal he’d been working on, having ultimately given up on his latest entry.

Entry 2

If I have to stay inside for one more day, I think I’ll lose my mind.

Jesse hummed. He thought he’d communicated his point clearly enough, even within the limited words.

“Cmon, that’s not it. I’m obviously not scared of going outside.”

“Whatever you say, ‘fraidy cat.” Lukas managed with a huff as he collapsed onto the sofa, Dewey quickly settling onto his lap.

“Shut up. It’s just… weird .”

“How come?”

“Like…” Jesse tilted his head to the side, still not tearing his eyes off the horizon. “It’s been years. I don’t know if the townspeople will be happy to see me. Anyways, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to be… Mayor Jesse. I’ve gotten too used to being in places where people have only vaguely heard of me.”

“Hmm.” The author mulled over the statement. “Well, you don’t have to resume mayoral duties by any means-”

“That’s the thing.” Jesse cut in. “What if the people expect me to, now that I’m back? Or maybe they don’t even want me here anymore, after everything-“

“And-“ Lukas butted back in gently, cutting off Jesse’s impending ramble. “-Nobody says you have to talk to anyone. I’m just suggesting leaving the house for a little bit. I mean, you’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. I’m shocked you haven’t gone insane yet.”

“Oh, I have.” The hero barked out a short laugh, glancing back to catch Lukas’ eye. “I’ve caught myself having conversations with Dewey more often than I’d like to admit.”

Lukas frowned. “Uh, excuse me, but in what world does that make you crazy? I do the same thing.”

“This one, and that’s because you are crazy.”

The author giggled softly. “Well, you’re the expert.”

Maybe I am, Jesse thought, as an irrational wave of anxiety coursed through him at the mere thought of going into town.

“I don’t know.” He continued softly, voice merely a hushed, strangely guilty whisper. “Something about it just… freaks me out.”

Lukas hummed once more in response. “I won’t push it. But I will say you don’t have to just… throw yourself out there. Just take it easy, okay? Little steps.”

“Hah. Yeah.” The hero chuckled, trailing off to go back to doodling in his journal. Still, he couldn’t shake the weird, restless feeling in his stomach.

Sure, he wanted to go out there, but a fear he couldn’t place kept him rooted to the spot.

Maybe the townspeople being all over him was what worried him. Maybe it’s their expectations, or the chance that they, too, had grown to hate him in his absence. Maybe he didn’t know how to act around people anymore.

Maybe it was the sneaking paranoia that those bandits were still out there, waiting to finish the job.

Jesse shivered, shaking the thought away by scribbling something random in a corner of the page.

You’re being stupid. It’s not a big deal.

He glanced over at Lukas. The archer lay with his legs outstretched across the sofa, petting Dewey with one hand and reading with the other.

Jesse quickly decided that if he didn’t say it now, he never would, and he’d continue to rot inside both this house and his own head. He cleared his throat noisily, attempting to play off his nerves.

“Well, hypothetically.” He began, with Lukas turning to look at him with a growing smirk. “If I, uh, was gonna take a step, what would you suggest?”

————————————

The night chill immediately hit Jesse’s face in one grand icy slap as soon as he set foot out of the door.

Creators. If Lukas wasn’t so convincing, this would make me turn straight back around.

“Jeez, it’s freezing.” He muttered, his breath forming clouds in front of his face.

Lukas offered an amused hum as he locked the door behind them, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Good thing I patched that jacket up then, huh? Sorry, I couldn’t get all the blood out.”

Jesse merely shrugged, tentatively making his way down the front steps. “Eh, it was in bad shape anyways. Just wish my hands were free so I could put them in the pockets.”

Truthfully, it had been quite the task suiting up for the weather. The pair had undergone a major struggle squeezing his cast through a pair of jeans.

Making contact with the frost-dusted grass, the hero took the opportunity to finally get a proper look at the scenery he’d spent days studying from the window. The beaming moonlight illuminated the scene quite beautifully, ghosting the rustling trees and distant buildings with soft bluish halos. The breeze, however frigid, made Jesse feel like he could finally breathe. In, out, one deep, satisfying drag of arctic air sent billowing clouds rolling up into the peaceful atmosphere. A grin slowly spread across Jesse’s pink-tinged cheeks as he was reunited with his love—the great outdoors—at long last.

That breath caught in his throat as that sinking paranoia crept back in.

“Uh.” Jesse stuttered, turning back around to face Lukas. “You sure there won’t be anyone out?”

The archer only shrugged, grabbing his crossbow from the porch. “Well, it’s not a guarantee. But it’s a weekday, so I think if we just avoid Bad Luck Alley, we’re set.”

Jesse chuckled awkwardly. The reply did very little to ease his growing anxiety. “Is this even safe?”

“Fuck no.” Lukas breathed out with a short laugh, stuffing his free hand into his pocket as he marched ahead through the clearing. “Why’d you think I brought this?”

He twirled his crossbow in the air, shooting Jesse a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

“You’re not helping, you know.”

“Just being honest. But trust me, we’ll be fine. There’s hardly anyone out at this time. I didn’t drag you out the house at crazy-o’clock just so we could take in the midnight scenery, you know.”

“And I appreciate it-“ The hero gave a short sigh, the rhythmic clicking of his crutches muffled by the crunch of frozen grass beneath his feet. “-But it’s not just running into the townspeople that I’m worried about.”

Lukas slowed a little to match his pace as the pair approached the town. “I told Radar to keep an eye out ages ago, and I’ve heard nothing back. Don’t worry about it.”

“Easier said than done.” Jesse huffed, swallowing the tremor in his voice.

Get a grip. You’re just going for a walk in town. You’re being ridiculous.

Still, his irrational fear marched on. The hero furrowed his brow, trying to push the thought from his brain.

Lukas reached out to give Jesse’s shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze, his gentle eyes ghosting over the anxiety written into every line of the hero’s face.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

His sympathetic expression inexplicably shifted into something more mischievous.

“Anyway, I brought something to make this a little more interesting.”

He jostled his bag slightly and Jesse found it hard to ignore the clinking sound ringing out from within it. His shadowy brown eyes went wide, an amused smirk playing across his face.

“Are you serious?” He breathed incredulously, giggling.

“What? Thought you could use some excitement after hanging around my place for a month. If you don’t feel like it, that’s fine, though.”

He smirked as he unveiled the bottle from his bag, unscrewing the top in one swift motion and bringing it to his lips. In the glint of the moonlight, Jesse could clearly see it was straight spirits.

Creators, this is unbelievably stupid.

Still, Jesse motioned for the bottle anyway, balancing on one crutch on the sparkling pavement as he took a brave swig. He regretted it in an instant as the burn hit the back of his throat, forcing a cough out of him as he swallowed.

“That is awful .” He spluttered, laughing as he passed it back. “You have, like, terrible taste in alcohol.”

Lukas shrugged once again as they headed deeper into the town. The streetlamps cast a soft orange glow over his profile, setting both the rimy path and his glacier-blue eyes alight with a lively glimmer.

“Whatever gets you drunk fastest.” He murmured around the glass.

Jesse snorted. “You’re actually a teenager.”

“Oh, shut up. Who knows, it might get you out of your head for a little while.”

Here’s hoping , Jesse thought as he took the bottle back, braving another bitter mouthful as he glanced around the quiet street.

Lukas was right, the place was near totally empty, but Jesse still put his hood up to take the edge off his fading nerves. The whole place had changed—which Jesse had expected to some extent—but he’d hoped to recognise a few more landmarks than he actually did. The colourful streets and shady alleyways were so long and sprawling he could almost marvel at the way Lukas so easily picked his way through them, choosing the quietest trails to follow and occasionally ducking out of sight from the occasional townsperson doing odd building jobs.

Jesse whistled, taking it all in.

“Damn. It’s all so different. I can’t imagine how long it took to build all this.”

Lukas laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners with pride. “You have no idea. It’s a tough job running it now, what with how big this place has gotten. But it’s so worth it.”

The statement threatened to stir an inexplicable pit of guilt in Jesse’s stomach, and the lively glimmer in those gunmetal blue eyes turned his face pink. He took another large swill as though to drown the sensation, relishing in the buzz that crept into his mind.

Once again, Lukas was right. Maybe I did need to shut my brain up for a bit. Jeez, that’s gonna get annoying to keep admitting.

“By the way,” Jesse began, fighting off both the silence and the topic of conversation. “I found one of your old journals in your desk the other day.”

Lukas’ head whipped around, an unserious frown across his features. “You went through my stuff?”

The hero laughed, handing him the bottle again. “Hey, I gotta keep myself busy. I can’t just pester you when I get bored anymore, now that you’re back at work.”

“Hmm. So you were doing that on purpose.” He replied bemusedly, knocking back another sizeable sip.

“Of course. But anyway, I think it was your first. The one with all the portals in it?”

“Mm.” The author swallowed hard. Whether he was wincing at the taste or the memory, Jesse wasn’t quite sure. “Creators, that was, just… two straight weeks of absolute crazy.”

The hero made note of the tipsy weight in his voice and the pink tinge of his freckled face. The pair giggled, slowly realising that the spirits’ effect had apparently set in by that point.

“Cmonnnn, it wasn’t all bad. We got some fun stories out of it.”

“Oh yeah?” Lukas quirked a brow, challenging Jesse to keep going.

“Yeah. Like… that underwater world with the squid?”

The author barked out an unexpected laugh. “Hah! The one that got stuck on your head?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can laugh about it now.” Jesse rolled his eyes, snatching back the bottle with an uncoordinated grab.

“I guess… that’s the one good thing to come from all that shit we did, huh? Stories.”

“Yup. Remember when you fell into that ice lake?”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me. I’ve never been so cold in my life. How about the time Ivor got chased by those sheep?”

Jesse burst into a fit of giggles. If he was even slightly more sober, he’d try to suppress them, but he was getting to be too wasted to care, almost tripping over his own foot as they wandered aimlessly down the winding road.

“Hah, I’ve never heard a man scream that high. Or run that fast. Didn’t think he had that in his old bones.”

Lukas playfully swatted at Jesse’s arm. “I’ll do you one better. Petra falling out of the tree in that jungle world?”

The hero slapped a hand over his mouth, a few giggles slipping between his fingers. “Stop, that’s not funny! I think she got a concussion.”

The archer merely shrugged, loosely swinging his crossbow in circles through the frosty air. “Trust me, that was funny. Especially after she talked all that game about her climbing skills. Anyway, that was probably, like… the nicest injury any of us got. If… that makes any sense.”

“It doesn’t, but I get it.” Jesse slugged back another mouthful, handing the bottle into Lukas’ fumbling grasp. “Like… oh, Creators, remember Axel f-falling through that trapdoor when we went treasure hunting?”

Lukas briefly choked on his drink, slapping a clumsy hand over his face. “Shut up. I forgot all about that. And we spent hours trying to get him out?”

“Hah, yeah. At some point I think he just accepted his fate in there.”

“Creators, we’ve been through some insane shit.” Lukas managed to murmur through giggles. “Remember falling off the side of Sky City?”

“Hah! What about that adventure where Olivia nearly blew us all up by tripping that wire?”

“Or that fire world portal I had to carry you through?”

Jesse barked out an ungraceful laugh, almost doubling over. “I’ll do you one better. R-remember when your piercing got-“ He fought to finish his sentence through his uncontrollable giggles. “-ripped out in- in the Witherstorms’ fight?”

Lukas ran his tongue across the divot in his bottom lip, grinning madly. “Oh, Creators, and you had to hold my face together ‘till we got outta there? That sucked.”

“Yeah? Well, w-what kinda idiot wears snakebites to an apocalypse anyway?”

The archer gave Jesse a weak shove, covering his face in embarrassment. “Shut up! I didn’t know I was gonna be in, like… mortal peril. The storm didn’t exactly send us a memo, if you recall.”

The pair dissolved into a full blown laughing fit, doubling over as their raucous voices rang out through the empty alleyway.

It didn’t last long, though; their giggles fizzled out into awkward laughter, then dropping off into doubly awkward silence as their fuzzy, inebriated brains eventually came to a slow, bleak realisation.

“…Huh.” Jesse was the first to break it, blinking hard as he processed. “Now that I… think about it. That’s, uh…”

He swallowed hard, meeting Lukas’ gaze with a frown of shared understanding, before dropping his eyes to his feet.

“None of that’s really funny, huh?”

“No.” Lukas blew out a breath awkwardly, dragging out the vowel with a wince. “Yeah, that’s… sorta depressing.”

Thankfully, the pair didn’t have to sit with that thought for very long. Jesse’s head snapped up at the sound of Lukas’ abrupt, strangled yelp. His wide brown eyes were met with the sight of a screwdriver at the author’s throat, a small, shadowed stranger pinning the taller man against the wall.

“Liv, what the hell?” Lukas choked out, pushing it away.

“Lukas? Jesse? What the heck are you doing out here?”

Jesse grinned with recognition as Olivia stepped into the light, her dark eyes alight with confusion.

She was bundled up in a puffer jacket, earmuffs and fingerless gloves, with goggles pushing back her braids and heeled brown winter boots adding an inch to her minute height.

“I could ask you the same question, Olivia.”

The hero playfully squinted in mock suspicion, jabbing a finger in her direction.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come out here and repair those daylight sensors. I’ll probably salt some roads while I’m out. It’s treacherous out here, Jesse, I’ve got no idea how you’ve managed on crutches.”

“I’m just better, that’s why. What’s with the deadly weapon?”

Olivia scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t recognise you. Thought you might be bad news.”

“Well, apology accepted.” Lukas smirked, straightening up as he brushed off his jacket.

“Now it’s your turn. What are you two chuckleheads doing, seriously?”

“Reminiscin‘“ The author responded simply, a grin plastered across his pink-tinged features.

Spying the clumsily concealed bottle behind Lukas’ back, Olivia’s expression fell flat, and she folded her arms incredulously.

“Oh, Creators. Are you two drunk?”

“…No?” Lukas hummed unconvincingly.

Jesse descended into another hazy fit of giggles as Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. After a beat too long, she decisively planted a hand between each of their shoulder blades, guiding them out of the alley.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

“Boooo, we just got here.” Jesse whined unsuccessfully, Olivia’s gentle yet firm push forcing him to keep moving.

“Don’t know if you’re too wasted to notice,” she began with a sigh. “But you’re in a bit of a state. Jeez, the pair of you reek of vodka.”

“Ach, you’re no fun.” Lukas snickered, loosely waving the bottle in her direction. “Want some?”

“Hah. No chance, blondie. Oh, wait-“

The engineer halted in her tracks as they reached the main street, reigning in the stumbling pair by grabbing the backs of their shirts. In the newfound silence, Jesse could just make out the sounds of lively chatter carrying on the frigid breeze.

“-We’re better off cutting through the woods. There’s an expedition due back around now, and they’ll swarm you if they catch wind that you’re back.”

Distantly, a spike of anxiety shot through the hero. He was too numb to truly care, but still.

“Cool.” Lukas mumbled, staggering forwards. “I’ll lead the way.”

“Of course you will.” Olivia hissed under her breath, disgruntled, reluctantly trudging on after him.

————————————

“So,” Olivia attempted, piercing the contented silence. “Has Radar stopped by to see you yet?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah.” Jesse mused, picking his way through the undergrowth. “He swung by last week. It was a… a v-very emotional reunion. Stories were told, tears were shed…”

A little way ahead of the pair, shrouded in shadow, Lukas snorted. “Hah! You say that as if you did, like… any of the crying.”

“Wh- hey, he missed me!” Jesse called back with a smirk. “Is that such a crime?”

“Lukas, not that I don’t trust your perfect sense of direction-“ Olivia glanced warily at the foliage surrounding the trio, dark eyes bright in the patchy moonlight. “-but… how deep into the woods are we exactly? Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Lukas responded simply, chuckling to himself.

The engineer scoffed, a bemused smirk playing across her features. “You’re an annoying drunk sometimes, you know that? Excuse me for being a little wary of mobs in this freaking maze.”

“Er, why’d you think I brought this?” The archer waved his crossbow in the air, knocking back another mouthful of spirits. Jesse was honestly shocked that there was still anything in the bottle, with how much more Lukas had drank on the way.

What the hell happened to ‘sharing is caring ?’ The hero thought vaguely, his mind still heavily numbed.

“Anyway, anything comes near me, I can…” Lukas made a swinging motion with the bottle, a wet slap sounding against the leaves as the potent liquid spilled from it. “ Bash them over the head with this.”

Jesse giggled again, stumbling over a patch of vines in his distracted state. Olivia sighed yet again and began patting down her pockets.

“This is ridiculous, I can hardly see my own hand in front of my face! I’m sure I had a flashlight somewhere…”

Despite being near-totally numb to his surroundings, Jesse still frowned as he heard Lukas’ footsteps beginning to echo from a metre in front of him: a hollow click instead of the previous loud rustling.

Huh. That’s… not right…

Hesitantly, he tapped one crutch in front of him, feeling it connect with something strangely solid. He shot an arm in front of Olivia, sending her stumbling backwards a little.

“What gives?” She whispered, her tone more curious than harsh. Finally discovering the flashlight, it came on with a soft click, its light reflecting off of the path beneath them with a strange, translucent sheen.

Ice.

“Lukas, wait!” Jesse called out. “I think we’re at the lake.”

Olivia darted her flashlight around. Sure enough, patches of reeds and mud surrounded the three, the lakebeds frozen near totally solid. By the time she shone it forwards again, Lukas was much further ahead, clearly having blocked them out.

Eventually stopping, Lukas swivelled around to face the pair, eyes wide. He shot them a sheepish grin, having processed the information at last.

“Oh. Didn’t see that.” He mumbled dumbly, glancing down at his feet and back up at the pair again.

“Lukas, you gotta get on all fours.” Jesse called out. “Spread your weight out. If not, you’ll fall straight through.”

“Relax.” He slurred, folding his arms. “It’s thick. See?”

Olivia shone her torch at his feet. While the cold yellow beam revealed fairly solid ice beneath him, a brief scan revealed pools on the surface, clearly a marker of much more fragile patches: a multitude of ticking time bombs just waiting to splinter.

“Lukas!” Olivia attempted, instinctively stepping forwards. Jesse’s arm didn’t budge, holding her back from the bank. “This ice won’t hold. We gotta go around!”

The archer put his arms out. “Okay, we’ll find another way. But hey, if I walked here… I can just walk back . Reaaal slow.”

Great. This is how we die.

Despite Olivia’s protests, Lukas tentatively put one foot in front of the other, slowly making his way back towards the pair.

“Lukas, I’m warning you.” Olivia called out. “This is stupid. Sober you would remember that you don’t exactly have the best history with ice lakes-“

As if to punctuate her point, a drunken misstep sent a stomach-churning creak ringing through the silent atmosphere. The ice heaved, and Lukas’ foot disappeared beneath the surface.

“Shit!” He hit the ice with a thud, sending the bottle rolling away as he held himself up on his elbows. The archer yelped—the sound sending a horrid lurch of dread straight through Jesse’s chest—as his leg became fully submerged under the sub-zero water, sucking in a stuttering breath. “Augh, jeez, that’s cold. Not good.”

Gasping in shock, Olivia quickly lowered herself down onto the thicker part of the ice, her body parallel with the lake.

“Don’t!” Lukas called out, panic finally setting into wide blue eyes. “I-I can pull myself out. It’s f-fine.” With that, he braced his arms, preparing to heave upwards.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll just break it more.”

The engineer slowly reached out, offering a hand to him. Tentatively, Lukas stretched his arm out, desperately trying to grasp it with shaking fingers.

Heart hammering in his chest, Jesse could only watch with bated breath until another sickening crack pierced his eardrums and Lukas disappeared beneath the surface, his crossbow clattering against the ice.

With that, he was stone cold sober.

As fast as he could manage, he dropped down onto his right knee as close to the edge as possible, ignoring the way it strained against the brace, and yanked Olivia away from the unstable surface, forcing himself to block out the sheer panic in her scream. Shuffling forward, he extended a crutch towards the hole where Lukas once stood, calling out towards the archer.

“Shit, c’mon, Lukas!” His voice cracked with fear. “You’ve done this once, you can do it again.”

“That’s not working! He’s drifted out!” Olivia cried out, clasping her hands over her mouth, scanning their surroundings frantically. “We gotta break it!”

“Got it.” Jesse shot to his feet—strained knee giving way slightly—and raised the crutch over his head and brought it down with as much force as he could muster. He struck the glassy surface over and over wherever he could reach, sending deep rifts running along the whole lake until he’d made a large opening in it. Then came the terrifying part: waiting for Lukas to find his escape route.

Jesse waited, keeping his crutch within reach of it.

Please, Creators, don’t let him die. That would be… kind of an embarrassing way to go.

After what felt like an eternity, the author resurfaced with a choked gasp for air and wild, horrified eyes. He blindly grabbed at the crutch and Jesse heaved it back with every muscle in his body, Olivia pulling him backwards until the author had safely reached the frosted bank.

“Lukas! Oh, Creators , are you okay?” Olivia shrieked, pulling him to his knees and forcefully banging him on the back as he coughed up far too much water. “You idiot, I could kill you!”

Lukas couldn’t quite respond, retching, his whole body weighed down with completely soaked-through clothes. Even the occasional splatter of lake water sent a shiver coursing through Jesse, so cold it felt like a knife going straight through him, and he dreaded to think how the author felt, still breathing out a sigh of immense relief.

“F-fu-ck-k-k.” He fought out between gasps for air, his jaw violently chattering.

“Okay, we gotta get you inside, now .” Jesse straightened up on his crutches, side freshly burning with the strain, yanking a soaked, shivering Lukas to his unsteady feet. Olivia slung a sopping arm around her shoulders to support him, immediately wincing with regret while she pulled him up the bank.

“Ack! It went down my shirt!”

Jesse offered them a half smile as he led the way, desperately trying to force his panic down.

“Hey, Olivia was right.” He mused in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “Maybe you are an annoying drunk.”

————————————

With Lukas too incapacitated to reach for his key, Olivia had to put her clearly racing adrenaline to good use by kicking the door free from the latch, which swung open with a resounding crack. It startled Dewey, who leapt up from the couch with a panicked meow.

Sorry, little guy. Kind of an emergency situation here.

Jesse trailed in after the pair, brow set with determination.

“Right.” He barked out, speeding over to the fireplace. “First of all, you gotta get out of those clothes, or you’ll freeze. Liv-“ he briefly paused to strike a flint and steel, sending weak sparks scattering over the firewood. “Fresh clothes are in the back room, top drawer. Towels are in the bathroom.”

“Got it.” Olivia murmured, pulling a shivering Lukas in front of the now-lit fire before dashing off.

Jesse straightened up and turned to face Lukas. He’d managed to shrug off his jacket, which fell in a wet heap behind him, but he was shivering too violently to get a good grip on any other item of sodden clothing. The hero balanced on one crutch, grabbing his drenched shirt.

“Lift your arms.” He murmured, and Lukas complied with a shaky smirk as Jesse pulled off his sweater and shirt in one fluid motion and dropped it into the pile, his fingers ghosting over frigid skin. He reached down to unbutton his jeans, trying not to think about how strange it was, before walking back towards the bathroom, letting Lukas sort out the rest.

Olivia emerged from it carrying a towel and a pile of clothes, eyes widening as they met Jesse’s. The hero simply stuffed the towel under his arm and turned back around, slinging it over Lukas’ bare shoulders and attempting to wipe off the icy water that soaked him to the bone.

“Sit by the fire for a bit.” Jesse murmured, keeping the violently shivering author steady as he lowered himself onto the floor. “Get dry, then put some clothes on.”

Lukas nodded feebly, staring straight ahead into the fire, having given up on speaking after the chatter of his teeth drowned out any sound he’d attempted to make on the way.

Okay. Panic over, I think.

Olivia set the clothes down, falling back onto the couch with an exhausted huff and running a shaky hand over her face. Jesse joined her, setting his crutches within reach, folding his arms as he blew out an exasperated breath.

“That was… interesting.” He managed, glancing at Olivia with a weak grin. It faltered when she didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the back of Lukas’ head with a furrowed brow instead, deep in thought.

“Jesse, you’re gonna have to keep an eye on him.” She mumbled, glancing over to the hero. “The alcohol and that freezing lake… he could have hypothermia.”

Jesse suppressed a shudder at the thought, vaguely gesturing to the archer. “I know, but look. He’s freezing, sure, but he’ll be alright.”

“Alright, but look out for the symptoms. Yknow, shivering-“

“That could just be regular cold, to be fair.” He cut in.

“-Slurred speech, slow breathing, confusion, pale skin…”

“Okay, that’s not fair. He’s always pale.”

Olivia smirked at the reply, briefly breaking free from her concerned state. “That’s… fair. Just… I can stay if you want. Help keep an eye out?”

“I’ll be fine, Olivia, we’ve done this before. You go home, and I’ll sort it out if he gets any worse. Trust me, you’ve done enough.”

“St-stop t-t-talki-ng about m-me like I-I’m not h-here.” Lukas choked out miserably, not even glancing at the pair as he stretched his shaky hands out towards the fire. Its heat had filled the room, and just managed to finally entice Dewey out of his hiding spot, the ocelot warily creeping over to curl up beside it.

Jesse made a sympathetic expression, raking dark eyes over his trembling figure, before getting up to go sit beside him, slinging an arm over the archer’s hunched shoulders. Lukas didn’t protest or really acknowledge it, simply shutting his eyes, swaying with exhaustion.

The hero turned back to face Olivia, who hovered behind him awkwardly.

“You’re sure you’ve got this?”

Jesse nodded. “Go home, Liv. Sorry you got dragged into this.”

She merely grinned, folding her arms. “Well, someone has to keep you two in check.”

With that, she turned to leave, slipping out of the door with a short “bye!” and leaving the pair to their own devices. Jesse sat with him for a while, staring into the flickering fire, listening to silence broken only by the crackling flames and Lukas’ occasional sniffle.

Eventually, Jesse gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Hey. I think you’re dry enough for clothes.”

“Oh, goody.” Lukas murmured sarcastically, getting a short laugh out of the hero. He held him steady as he stood up with shaky legs to throw on the shirt and sweatpants, scrubbing his hair with the towel before dropping it by his feet. He folded his arms, hunching over to conserve heat despite his shiver being much less profound than before.

“Sorry.” Jesse called out with a half-grin, walking over to the back bedroom to fetch blankets. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch one last time. Stay by the fire.”

Lukas only gave a “hmm” of acknowledgment when the hero returned with a duvet and pillows. Setting them on top of the leather cushions, he stepped aside to offer the makeshift bed to the author, eyes widening as Lukas pressed an icy hand into his chest, weakly attempting to stop him from walking away.

“Lay down.” Was all he managed, and Jesse complied with a curious frown. Slowly but surely, making sure to avoid Jesse’s precariously healing wounds even in his state, Lukas climbed into the sheets and lay directly on top of the hero, slinging an arm around him and pressing his face into his chest. Jesse’s eyes blew wide, staying perfectly still for a few beats too long.

Jeez, am I still drunk, or is this really happening??

“‘M freezing.” He put simply, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You sure you’re comfy?” Jesse tried, quirking a brow.

“Mm-hmm. In fact, I don’t wanna move an inch.”

Jesse gave a brief laugh. “Sorry, Lou.” He murmured softly, his voice barely breaking a whisper as the forgotten nickname rolled off his tongue as easily as a breath. “I guess trouble really does follow me wherever I go.”

“Nah.” Lukas smiled, and Jesse moved an arm around to tousle his damp blonde hair. “You just have stupid friends.”

Jesse giggled weakly, finally noticing his own exhaustion. The fire cast a weak glow over the pair in an otherwise dark house, Dewey still fast asleep in front of it.

“Maybe I do.” The hero murmured, wrapping his arms around Lukas’ icy figure. “But there’s nothing in the world I’d trade it for.”

Lukas snickered weakly, clearly half asleep. “Shut up, you… cornball.”

Jesse gave one final laugh before closing his eyes, face turned towards the heat of the fire. Despite the immense calmness that overtook his previous painful levels of adrenaline, part of him was still nervously awaiting another dream: a new one this time, where Lukas would disappear beneath that arctic prison and never resurface, limp and beyond icy to the touch.

It never came. Lukas’ heartbeat against his chest kept him grounded, firmly in this reality.

He’s safe. The thought consumed Jesse’s sleep-drunk brain, repeating over and over and over until his consciousness faded.

In his last few moments of lucidity, the hero came to a vague realisation that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t handle losing Lukas all over again.

Chapter Text

By morning, Lukas has thankfully thawed out. Maybe a little too much, as by the time Jesse woke up, he was practically radiating heat.

Huh, Jesse thought vaguely, still groggy as he blinked his eyes open. That’s… probably not great.

At some point, Lukas had rolled off of him, wedging himself between Jesse and the couch cushions. Jesse hung off the edge of it, one arm still trapped beneath the archer. He slowly worked it out from under him so he could prop himself up, his knuckles brushing against the hot skin of Lukas’ neck as he did.

“Hey, Lukas.” He croaked out gently, giving the author’s shoulder a little shake. “You good?”

Lukas only offered a barely audible groan in reply.

Also not good. Shit, he better not have hypothermia. What even is hypothermia, anyway?

“You’re gonna be late for work.” Jesse mumbled, reaching over to tentatively press the back of his hand against his forehead. “Jeez, you’re warm.”

Strangely, Lukas tugged the blankets tighter around him, pressing his face into the cold leather of the couch and pulling the pillow over his head. Jesse merely blinked, processing.

“…You’re not well, huh?”

Lukas still didn’t move beyond vaguely shivering. Eventually, voice rough, he managed two simple words.

“Everything… hurts.”

Jesse hummed sympathetically, running a hand through his scruffy blonde hair. “Migraine?”

The author offered some vague twitch of acknowledgement, focused on keeping perfectly still inside his makeshift burrow. Jesse wracked his brain for a solution, softly ghosting his thumb over the old scar on the base of Lukas’ skull.

He used to get those all the time. Cmon, Jesse, think… what used to work?

“You want fries?”

Lukas still didn’t move, so Jesse had little choice but to take it as a yes. He straightened up from the couch, reaching for his jacket and crutches, and headed for the door, giving one last glance at the immobile author and Dewey, who lay still curled in a little ball in front of the dampened fireplace.

Not even the early morning cold—hitting him like a missile with every step—could distract from the lingering anxiety that stirred in his stomach.

Maybe Olivia was right. She usually is, but I dunno. Ugh, seriously, what the hell even is hypothermia?

He tugged his hood over his unruly curls, keeping his head down, walking too urgently to consider taking last nights’ side streets. Jesse merely shouldered through the sparse crowds, letting his feet take him down the familiar road towards one of the handful of fast food places in town.

The hero took a second to psych himself up before entering the garish building.

It’s pretty empty. Nobody’s gonna see you.

Still, he stayed rooted to the spot for a moment too long. Screwing up his face, he pushed through, one thought giving him the necessary determination.

Cmon, idiot. For Lukas.

Thankfully, most of the tables were empty. He sauntered up to the counter, attempting to casually dodge eye contact with the beaming girl at the counter.

“Hey! What can I get you?” She asked perkily, her curls escaping the branded headband to frame her cheery grin.

“Uhm.” Jesse mumbled, keeping his eyes on the floor. “A cola and fries, please.”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What’d you say?”

Jesse winced internally.

For Lukas, he thought one last time before knocking his hood back off his head, meeting the girl’s eyes with a sheepish glance. Her exaggerated smile quickly dropped, eyes widening in disbelief and recognition as she merely gawked, processing.

Shit. Okay, yeah, this is weird. Stay cool.

Jesse cleared his throat, offering a halfhearted grin while hoping he didn’t look too busted.

“My bad. Cola and fries, please. Uh, to go.”

The girl at the counter stayed silent for a beat too long before scrambling to jot down his order, trying to return his smile before nipping back into the kitchen.

Jeez, awkward. Jesse leant against the counter, pulling his hood back up as he absentmindedly gazed out the window.

I hope Lukas is okay. I know I’m not the one who brought the freaking vodka, but still, it’s kinda my fault. That walk was… very not worth it.

A building caught his eye on the horizon: tall and white with a sign right on the top.

A hospital, huh? Might not be the worst idea.

Before he could properly form a plan, the girl reappeared from the kitchen with a brown paper bag and her best attempt at her previous grin. “Here you go, sir! Sorry about the wait.”

“Hm? Oh, thanks!” Jesse swivelled around, a little awkwardly on the crutches, taking the bag in one hand before reaching into his jacket to pay. The girl waved a hand in reply.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. It’s, uh, on the house.”

Jesse quirked a brow. “Oh, no, I can’t accept that.”

“No, really, it’s fine!” She giggled awkwardly, dragging her gaze over the cast, then the crutches, then probably the ghost of the cut that split his eyebrow in half. “It’s the least I can do. After, the, uh. Wait.”

Paying in pity points, huh? Jesse thought dryly, giving the girl a grateful smile and a little wave as he turned towards the exit.

“Well, if you’re sure. Thanks so much, you have a good day!”

“Y-yeah, you too!” She shot back, the cold striking him again as he stepped outside, turning the tips of his just-thawed fingers to ice.

“Jeez.” Jesse mumbled to no one in particular as he made his way back towards the house. “Trust me to break my leg in the coldest months of the year. Seriously, if I could only put my hands in my pockets…”

He gave a quick glance around the clearing as he crossed it, slightly crestfallen.

Still no sign of Goldie. Gosh, I really hope she’s okay.

Unexpectedly, the faint sound of laughter carrying from under the front door made him stop dead in his tracks on the porch, breaking him free from the depressing beginnings of his train of thought. It sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, noticing the drawn curtains and the door he’d accidentally left unlocked in his haste.

What… the hell?

Olivia, Radar, the bandits… a million possibilities raced through his frayed brain as he hesitated, eventually reaching for the doorknob and slowly opening the door, gripping one crutch until his knuckles turned white.

“…Hello? Lukas?”

“Jesse-dude! Glad to see you up and running!”

That was the absolute dead-last person he would’ve guessed.

“Wh- Nell? ”

She grinned madly, perched on the armchair. Lukas still hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, groaning and pulling the pillow tighter around his ears to block out the noise.

Jesse gave an incredulous laugh, shutting the door and awkwardly shuffling off his jacket. “What are you doing here?”

Nerves settling, he noticed that her blonde curls were professionally tied back, a white coat in place of her usual surfer get-up.

No freaking way.

“You’re… a doctor?”

“Hell yeah!” Nell shot to her feet, dashing over to pull Jesse into a brief one-armed hug. “Hah, I guess you have been gone a while. When I settled into Beacontown, I realised, hey, I’ve got all sorts of free time now that the games are over. So I figured I’d go back to school, finish my degree. Sick, right?”

“That’s awesome, Nell! Though, I gotta admit, I did not expect that, like, at all.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She meandered back over to Lukas, giving his hair a playful ruffle despite his protests. “Sorry to break in, brah. Your buddy Olivia gave me a visit. Something about falling into a lake? I figured I’d call in to be safe.”

“What’s your diagnosis, doc?” Jesse remarked, falling into the armchair with a huff, setting the fast food bag down on the table and rubbing his hands together to regain the feeling in them.

“Well, he doesn’t have hypothermia. You guys acted fast.” Nell gave a smirk. “My suuuper professional medical opinion? Classic case of man-flu.”

Jesse snorted at the comment, just catching something that sounded like a muffled “fuck off” from Lukas.

“In short, he’ll be fine. I’ve left some cold medicine and painkillers on your counter. Oh, and…” She clicked her fingers as the memory came to her. “I fed your cat. Feisty little dude. Kept nipping at my ankles until I did it.”

“Hah. Sounds like Dewey.” Jesse murmured affectionately, hearing the ocelot’s meow ring out from the next room. “Thanks, Nell.”

“Noooo problem.” Nell shot him a grin. “It’s good to see you back, man. You’ve missed a ton.”

“I figured.” The hero responded with a half-laugh, forcibly swallowing the sudden wistful sadness in his stomach that threatened to stain his tone.

“Well, I’ll be outta your hair. Oh, wait.” She paused in her tracks, halfway to the drawer, before spotting the food on the table. “Can I bum a fry?”

Jesse merely blinked, processing before gesturing to the bag. “…Go nuts, Nell.”

“Awesome! Thanks, Jesse-dude.” She plunged her hand into it, retrieving a few fries and stuffing them into her mouth, shooting him a thumbs up before motioning to leave a second time. Once again, she paused, swivelling back around to point at Jesse’s cast.

“Unless, while I’m here…” Nell mumbled around her mouthful. “You want me to take a look at you?”

————————————

Entry 3

Sorry I haven’t really written in here. I can never think of what to say. Lukas’ job is harder than it looks, huh?

I’ve just had the craziest night. In short, me and Lukas got drunk and he fell in a lake. Yeah, I wouldn’t believe it either if I didn’t watch it happen.

I don’t know what to make of it honestly. To be honest, it’s hard not to feel like some kind of… disaster magnet when these stupid things seem to just follow me around. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the pattern.

What was it Lukas said after that first Admin fight? “It’s very you.”

It’s exactly like he said. “That life” keeps dragging me back, or whatever. Even in these tiny unnoticeable ways.

Even without that, the whole night was weird. We were laughing and chatting about our old adventures, and it just felt right. I don’t know.

Like nothing’s changed, even though by looking around it clearly massively has. Like I just want to keep doing that. Spending time with Lukas. Piecing things back together.

Gross. I really need to get a grip. It doesn’t matter how weirdly well things are going right now. At the end of the day, things have irreparably changed. I left. I gotta face the consequences of that.

But Creators, I’m serious when I say I missed him more than anything.

I kinda expected our reunion to go the way it did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I guess some small part of me had this fantasy that everything would wait for me. Even though I knew that wasn’t the case, I just kept hoping for my own sanity. Which I know now is stupid. It just hurts twice as bad.

The pain’s just… fuel, I guess. To fix things. As best I can. I just wish I knew how.

Lukas is okay, just caught cold. I guess being dunked in freezing water shredded his immune system or something. So now I’m gonna have to figure out how and what to feed us until he gets better. I can’t cook for shit so… I guess it’ll be a learning experience?

Nell came round. To tell the truth, I’m still reeling over the knowledge that she’s a whole doctor now. I’m seriously happy for her, but it’s a lot to process. It was never exactly something I pictured Nell doing. Lukas didn’t even warn me, but I guess it’s normal to someone who, yknow. Has actually been present in Beacontown these past five years?

Plus, it serves as yet another reminder that everyone in this freaking town has moved on to bigger and better things. Settled down. Changed.

Anyway, she gave me a checkup. Lukas must’ve done a good job as an impromptu medic, cause everything apparently looks great. But for my leg, she said she overshot the whole “three month” healing time on account of me being… very unconscious. And by the looks of things, it’ll heal a lot faster than that.

So realistically, I can get out of here way sooner.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

I don’t know a lot of things lately. How I feel, what Lukas’ deal is, what I want. For this specific moment in time, I just want Lukas to be okay. And to find the can opener, because Dewey is no help.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got way too much to figure out. And I don’t want any of that.

Weirdly enough, it was way easier when I thought I was stuck here against my will for three months. Now… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.

Like, knowing I might be well enough to leave before that… I thought I’d be thrilled, but I have to make that decision now, instead of someone or something else making it for me. And I don’t think I have the strength to make that choice twice. Especially not now.

Which is exactly what I was afraid of. All these years, all this time with Lukas in Beacontown, spent regretting my decisions and making peace with them… and I learn I was right all along. Why does that make it so much worse?

I just need to know what I want. What I feel. It’s crazy frustrating not being able to figure out anything and anyone around you, let alone not being able to figure out your own fucking head.

I still miss Lukas even when he’s sitting two feet away from me.

————————————

Jesse shut the journal with a snap, tossing it and his pen onto the coffee table and running a hand over his face to fend off the stinging that lingered behind his eyes.

That was way too honest. Jeez. Where on earth am I gonna hide this thing?

Realising that his heart was racing, he steadied it with one long, shaky inhale, wincing at the mere thought of what he wrote.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You just got carried away. It’s not that bad.

You’ll figure it out. You have to, anyway.

Peeking between his fingers, he studied the groggy Lukas sat opposite him, hunched over a half-eaten bowl of soup at the other end of the couch. Thanks to the unusual fast food remedy, Lukas’ headache had dissipated just enough for him to actually open his eyes, though it did nothing to ease his muscle aches, or his developing cough, or the intense fever that left him mildly delirious.

Poor thing. And poor me, a little bit, cause I’m not looking forward to cooking for a week.

As though he could read the hero’s mind, Lukas raised his head a little, making eye contact as he offered a weak, tight-lipped smile.

“How you feeling?” Jesse offered sympathetically.

The archer didn’t respond for a beat too long, simply gazing at Jesse with a dazed expression, eyes screwed up with pain and feverish confusion. It was almost eerie, as though he was sleeping with his eyes open. Eventually, he managed to croak out a reply, voice low and hoarse.

“I dropped my crossbow.” He mumbled simply, blinking.

“Ah. We’ll get it back, don’t worry about it.” Jesse reached over to give the archer’s leg a reassuring squeeze. Admittedly, he hadn’t noticed the beloved weapon’s suspicious absence, with all last night’s life-or-death situation taking up his whole attention. Lukas cleared his throat with a wince, voice cracking as he spoke again.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you manage to burn soup?”

Jesse laughed, a little sheepishly. “Yeesh. That bad?”

Lukas grimaced a little, reaching out to pass him the half-eaten bowl. The hero took it and set it on the table with a defeated sigh.

“Sorry. Guess I left it on the heat too long. I was just worried I’d give you food poisoning.”

“Wh- huh?” Lukas frowned, blinking. “How?”

“Well, yknow.” Jesse shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “It’d especially suck. I mean, you’ve got enough going on, so I figured you can’t be too careful. And, uh. Apparently, you can.”

“No, I mean… it’s tomato. People- people drink it cold. What is there to… poison?”

“Um.” Jesse squinted, thinking. “Botulism.”

“I d-don’t think you can… kill…”

Lukas trailed off, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist as thinking so hard clearly proved too much for his battered head to handle. Jesse gave him a sympathetic smile, extending an arm as a gesture for him to come over. He accepted gratefully, shuffling over to Jesse’s side of the couch to settle in beside him, resting his head on the hero’s chest. Jesse slung an arm over him, rooting a hand firmly in the author’s unusually ruffled hair.

Lukas heaved a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. “Creators. I feel rough.”

“Hah. No kidding.”

“Sorry.” He murmured, frowning. “I’m probably, like… getting my germs on you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got an immune system of steel from all that mud I rolled around in as a kid.”

Lukas gave a short, raspy laugh that ended in a faint cough. “Seriously?”

“Yup. I never get sick. So if do I catch your cold, consider it karmic punishment.”

Lukas giggled again, slinging an arm around the hero, weakly attempting to pull him in tighter. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pair trailed off into a comfortable silence, Jesse tilting his head back against the armrest to stare up at the ceiling. Truthfully, his mind hadn’t stopped racing since Nell left.

Creators. I hope Lukas can’t hear how unreasonably hard my heart’s going.

“Uh.” He began, voice cracking. “Nell took a look at me when you fell asleep.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lukas murmured through a little smile, voice so impossibly soft and heavy with tiredness that it made Jesse’s heart twist inside his chest. “Good news, I hope.”

“Uh, yeah. My side looks good. Just a little irritated after yesterday. My leg’s healing.”

He hesitated, tongue catching on the lie that he honestly didn’t know why he was telling.

“It’s, uh. It’s on track, like she said last time.”

“Aw, that’s great.” The archer mumbled again, opening his eyes to glance up at Jesse through long, heavy lashes. “Guess I haven’t done so bad as a doctor myself.”

“Hah. Maybe you oughta get yourself one of those fancy white coats.”

“Hmm.” He grinned, eyelids settling shut contentedly as the hero’s hands ran rhythmically through his golden locks. “Maybe I do.”

The pair fell back into a comfortable silence, disrupted only by Jesse’s faint sigh as he too shut his eyes, the words in his diary still haunting his conscience.

Cmon, Jesse. You already knew you’d have to make that decision. You’ve done it again. Made yourself believe in some… false reality where everything’s easy and nothing you do has any consequence.

He frowned, screwing his face up tighter. In an attempt to steady his spiral, he looked within. Instead of finding feeling or confusion or decision, he found a kind of hush. Not quite peace, but this strange staticky suspension. Some paradoxical mixture of racing thoughts, and total emptiness.

Awesome , he thought bitterly. Maybe my brain’s finally crapped out, once and for all.

It was no use piecing his clouded thoughts together, so he chose to focus on the moment instead, pushing the future out of his mind.

Lukas’ shoulders slightly rose and fell against his chest with each quiet snore, rhythmically flowing like a tide. His breath brushed the same spot on Jesse’s neck over and over and he honestly had no idea what to do with the way that made him feel.

Slowly, and without any real thought, one shaky hand reached over to Lukas’, pulling it on top of Jesse’s chest as the hero tentatively wove their fingers together, weakly interlocking.

Lukas sighed contentedly in his light sleep, hand twitching before closing, grasp surprisingly firm, over Jesse’s.

Jesse especially had no idea what to do with that.

His heart stuttered, foggy brain faintly racing. The whole scene felt disturbingly familiar, yet uncharacteristic.

Or at least, Jesse had thought so.

Up until this point it had been pretty clear that Lukas hadn’t wanted much to do with him, not after everything. Jesse knew that much, if nothing else.

Though, in his delirium, he’d clearly been wanting nothing more than to be close to the hero.

Was his fever creating some unthinkable alternate personality, or was it merely reverting him to his purest wants, untarnished by years of separation and wall after wall being put up?

Was that some sleep-drunk reflex, or did he mean to do that?

Regardless, it sparked a bright revelation in Jesse’s chest, clarity flowing into the stasis of his blurry consciousness.

This is all I want.

Lukas.

And, he realised, nothing truly mattered to him beyond that.

Fuck .

Chapter Text

“Good news!” 

Jesse’s head snapped up to the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway, shopping bags in hand, was Lukas, who beamed at the hero enthusiastically. 

“I went to the store on my way home. We get to eat actual meals again!”

Jesse snorted, folding his arms and leaning back against the couch cushions. 

Despite still being a bit under-the-weather—made evident by his persistent sniffle and the exhaustion that weighed down his eyes—Lukas had decided he had stayed off long enough, and needed to get back into work before he went stir-crazy again.

Thank the Creators , Jesse thought vaguely. I’d prefer my head to remain… not bitten off.

Humming, he slipped into the kitchen, a mildly cheery bounce in his step. 

“Hah.” Jesse called after him. “No more soup, I take it?”

“No.” Lukas responded with an exaggerated, playful firmness. “Never again.” 

Jesse merely shrugged as if to say “fair enough,” and Lukas soon returned, hanging up his jacket.

“Y’know, there’s rumors going around the town.” Lukas began, voice questioning. “People are saying you’re back.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows in mock affront. “Yeesh. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

The archer chuckled, swivelling around with his hands on his hips to face Jesse with an incredulous smile. “I’m serious. How’d that…”

He trailed off, brow furrowing with a faint realisation. “Th-the fast food. You actually went out for that?”

The hero squinted quizzically. “As opposed to what? I just… summoned it to the door?”

“No, you-” He stuttered, giving a short laugh of disbelief. “You were terrified to go out, let alone face anybody. You risked the town finding out where you were. I have… no idea how you even remembered that would work, and even less of an idea why you’d actually do it.”

Jesse shrugged, as though it really was that simple. “You were sick.” 

Lukas’ face softened in an instant. Hesitantly, he wandered over and took a seat, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jumper and exhaling deeply as his warm blue eyes bore earnestly into Jesse’s. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Jesse swallowed, biting back his instinctual follow-up; It’s you. 

He opted for the much more reasonable option instead, voice faltering at the mere notion of saying anything else out loud. “It was nothing.” 

Eyelids fluttering shut, Lukas leant his head on Jesse’s shoulder, sending the hero’s nerves briefly ablaze. In all honesty, even through Lukas’ illness-induced clinginess, he still hadn’t gotten used to this sudden closeness. This rapid-onset return to their old-school comfortability. 

Despite thoroughly enjoying it, something about these oddly sweet–oddly normal –interactions left Jesse feeling uneasy. Suspicious, as though expecting some sort of catch. Especially now that Lukas’ actions were no longer fuelled by feverish delirium. 

In short, Jesse needed to test the boundary all over again. 

Tentatively, he unfolded his arms, settling one hand right beside Lukas’ on the sofa in an unspoken dare, their pinkies just brushing. 

Lukas didn’t take it. 

Figures. 

“You get through the day okay?” Jesse murmured, pushing past the sting of his disappointment. 

“Hah. I was sick, Jesse, not paralysed.” Lukas chuckled, a loose lock of his hair tickling Jesse’s cheek with the movement. “But yeah, it was fine. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.” 

The hero only hummed in reply, quietly treasuring their proximity while it lasted. The comfortable silence quickly faded, though, as Jesse began to notice the rigidity in his shoulders and the far-off look in his eyes.

Jesse squinted, but didn’t push it, simply reaching around to sling an arm over his shoulders, pulling the author in close. Lukas didn’t resist, a weighted sigh tumbling out of his lips as his warmth settled against the hero’s side. 

Jesse waited, tracing firm little circles with his thumb. When he finally spoke, the observation came out low and soft, half-muffled on account of having absentmindedly pressed his face into Lukas’ tousled hair.

“You, uh, sure you’re okay? You seem… distracted.”

Lukas offered another slight sigh, voice rough around the edges. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Once again, Jesse didn’t press him, despite his total lack of faith in that statement. He stretched his free arm over to let his hand nest in the archer’s golden locks, feeling Lukas’ smile against his chest in response.

A few comfortable beats passed before he decided to speak again.

“Actually, there is something on my mind.” Clearing his throat, the author propped himself up to make eye contact, crease forming between his brows and heat clinging to his cheeks, dusting them an out-of-place pink. “I, uh, I’m kinda worried about Radar.”

“Huh.” Jesse murmured, surprised and a little caught off guard. “Uh… how come?”

It was a stupid question, really. When had either of them not been worried about Radar? For as long as Jesse had known him, he’d been a coiled spring, so wound up with anxious energy and enthusiasm it was always a little concerning.

The author shrugged, dodging Jesse’s inquisitive gaze to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. “I don’t know. He just seems… stressed. I think with me being a bit… unreliable lately, and Liv going back home, he’s got a bit much on his plate.” 

Jesse nodded in acknowledgment. The concern had briefly ghosted across his conscience when Olivia had stopped by a couple days ago to say goodbye. She’d showed up partly to beg the pair not to get into any more stupid situations while she wasn’t there to stop them, and partly just to have a laugh and share a cake she’d brought with Jesse and a still-diseased Lukas, who fought hard to stay awake long enough to give her a good send-off. 

“Well, Olivia had to get back to her own work sometime.” The hero mused in reply. 

“Yeah, I know that, but… ugh.” Lukas slumped back against the sofa with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know. I just get the feeling he’s overworking himself. You should’ve seen him at the order hall today. Darting about, barely giving himself time to breathe. The work’s getting to him, I've seen it happen before.”

“Then… you know what to do?”

“I wish . There’s nothing you can say to make Radar take it easy, so whenever he gets like this I just have to wait until things settle down. As… bad as that sounds. But he’s been on edge for too long this time. I think he needs an actual break.”

Jesse snorted, giving the archer’s shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze. “Radar’s not gonna do that himself. He cares about this town too much to let it out of his sight for even a second.”

Lukas only gave a frustrated hum in reply, conceding and staring off in thought. Jesse lay back with him, crossing his arms once again. 

“Wait.” Jesse suddenly shot forwards, clicking his fingers as an idea came to him. “What if he doesn’t have to do it himself?”

Warily, Lukas eyed the hero, letting him sit with the thought. Eventually, he offered an amused sigh, throwing a hand to the side. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you plotting?”

“What if we, like… make him take a break? Has he ever gotten around to visiting the old Order Hall yet?”

Jesse whipped his head around to face Lukas with wide, mildly devious eyes. The archer scoffed in mock incredulity, though there was a fondness behind it. 

“Wh- Jesse, come on . You’re not seriously suggesting we kidnap him?”

The hero merely shrugged. “That’s up to him. He’s gonna take a break one way or another.”

Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘you’re ridiculous.’ I never said I wasn’t hearing you out.”

“So… yes?”

Lukas hummed. “It might just work.”

A grin spread across Jesse’s face at the admission. “Tomorrow. I’ll come to work with you. Can you borrow us some horses?” 

The archer squinted quizzically, pausing. “Uh… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome. Trust me, Lukas, you won't regret this.”

“I… didn’t think I would, until you said that. Now, not that I particularly want to interrupt the formation of your batshit scheme, but-” 

Lukas planted his palms firmly on his knees and heaved himself onto his feet, something cracking uncomfortably as he did. “-I need to make dinner.”

The archer began making his way to the kitchen, then inexplicably stopped in his tracks, swivelling around to lean over the back of the sofa until his breath tickled Jesse’s ear with every word he softly murmured into it.

“You… wanna give me a hand?”

Anything Jesse might’ve felt about Lukas’ weirdly alluring tone of voice was instantly smothered by his bewilderment at the out-of-character question. 

“Seriously? You want me to cook? Like, of your own free will?”

Lukas snorted, shrugging as he straightened back up again. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you something easy to do. Maybe you’ll learn something. Y’know, from observing my… expert chef skills.”

Jesse chuckled, quickly fumbling with his crutches to follow the author into the kitchen. “Okay, then. Challenge accepted. What’re we making?”

Reaching for the shopping bags on the counter, Lukas began unpacking bags of quick-cook rice and a few spices. “Thought we could do chicken curry. It won't take long. And-” He pulled out a packet of raw chicken thighs, brandishing it triumphantly before handing it over to Jesse. “You get the fun job. Debone and quarter those, season, and let them rest.”

“Smart.” Jesse murmured amusedly, leaning his elbows on the crutches to unwrap the packet, pulling a knife out of the drawer while Lukas set a chopping board in front of him. “Play to my strengths. Not even I could screw that up.”

“Well, I believe in you.” Lukas mused a little sarcastically, still laughing to himself. In the midst of darting across the kitchen, putting away groceries and stuffing the empty bags into a drawer, his hand somehow found Jesse’s. 

The hero’s heart spiked, feeling Lukas briefly hover behind him, reaching around to graze scarred knuckles with a gentle thumb before quickly retreating as though nothing happened to carry on with the task at hand. Swallowing hard, Jesse attempted to do the same, though he couldn’t disguise his shaky hands, the memory of the feeling uncontrollably looping in his racing brain until the distraction caused the knife to slip. He clumsily tore through the plastic packaging with a loud, quick crack, and Lukas’ eyes blew wide with alarm as his head snapped towards the direction of the sudden, concerning sound.

Jesse straightened up, pulling himself together and holding his hands up, so Lukas could see that he was unharmed. As the worry dissipated from the author’s face, a sly grin spread across Jesse’s.

“You shouldn’t.”

— — — — — — — — — 

After a reasonably short struggle and a few playful jabs in the ribs, the pair cooked and ate the curry with minimal injuries. Jesse honestly could’ve cried; sure, it was nothing special, but compared to the mangled meals they’d been surviving off of all week, it was practically liquid gold. 

“Creators.” Lukas murmured mischievously, setting his bowl down on the table with a soft clink. “I didn’t realise how much I actually missed having, well… edible meals.” 

“Hey, you got off easy.” Jesse bantered back, leaning his head against the sofa as his comfortable fullness rendered him drowsy. “I still had all my sense of smell.” 

The sun had long since set, plunging the town into icy darkness, the only light sources being the lamp behind their heads and the gently crackling fireplace. It cast stark shadows and a pinkish tinge over both of their faces, the heat clinging to their cheeks and flooding the room, casting it a flickering amber.

It was nice, Jesse thought. Calm. Probably the most peaceful either of them had felt in days.

Obviously, that didn’t last.

Interrupting his lazy giggles, Lukas suddenly perked up, his head snapping around to face the door. Jesse eyed him suspiciously as he sat perfectly still, watching intently.

“You… okay?” The hero eventually attempted, folding his arms. Lukas paused before responding, taking a second too long to drag his eyes away from the door.

“Uh, y-yeah.” He blinked hard, brow furrowing. “Sorry. Just… thought I heard something.”

“Ah. Finally going senile, huh?”

“Oh, shut up. It’s-” The author visibly startled, whipping back around again. “There it is again! It’s like… someone yelling, but really faintly. You seriously don’t hear that?”

Jesse scoffed. “You know my hearing’s been shot for years. Little something called… a bomb going off in my face? That ring a bell?”

“Then you’ve got no right to call me senile. Go look, if you’re so smart.” Lukas smirked, quirking a brow as if to goad him into taking the challenge. Jesse shrugged, reaching for his crutches and making his way towards the window.

“Wow.” He called out sarcastically, squinting out of the window at the empty, barely visible clearing. “Making the guy on crutches walk. Isn’t that-”

He trailed off abruptly, seeing something move in the distance. He tried to focus his eyes on the spot, but lost it as quickly as he found it, gaze darting around aimlessly as a faint spike of anxiety stabbed through him.

Then, he just heard it. Faint, but definitely there. Squeaky, frantic, audibly out of breath.

“Jesse!”

Unmistakably Radar.

Without any further explanation beyond shooting a confused half-smile in Lukas’ direction, Jesse wandered towards the door and opened it, the strong beams of light from the fireplace illuminating the clearing just enough for Jesse to be able to make out the scene.

A very flustered and windswept Radar–bolting towards the house with an inexplicable urgency–sped up upon spotting Jesse, wildly grinning in between gasping for air.  Reaching the porch, he opened his mouth to speak, only to double over with exhaustion. Jesse was too stunned to pry, instead reaching an arm out to steady him. Radar took it gratefully while he caught his breath and Jesse fought to conceal the wince it elicited as the taller man’s hand made contact with one of his healing wounds.

“Radar?” Lukas’ incredulous voice sounded behind them. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“J-Jesse-” He eventually rasped out, sucking in a breath. “I f-found… your-”

Giving up on words, Radar rummaged in his hoodie pocket and handed the hero a battered  journal. Frowning, he thumbed through the pages, eyes widening as he gradually began to recognise the handwriting.

“What the… my travel journal?” He chuckled awkwardly, the artefact not easing his confusion in the slightest; if anything, it sent a swift wave of horror straight through him. “Where’d you find this? It was in my-”

Jesse was abruptly cut off by his own gasp of disbelief as a shape moved into view behind Radar. A well-muscled Andalusian horse with a dirtied palomino coat, decorated in dented iron armor, galloped forwards with a rhythmic click of hooves, visibly perking up at the sight of the hero.

“Ho-ly shit .” Jesse hissed, unable to tear his eyes off the horse as relief soared in his chest. “You found Goldie ?”

“A-hah.” Radar finally straightened up, swallowing hard. “Lukas told me t-to keep an eye out. I spotted her while I was just ch-checking out the… the expansions in the east, and she s-seemed to fit the description. When I found your journal in her pack, I just… ran here. Didn’t- didn’t feel like keeping you waiting, hah.”

Stepping in between the two, Lukas gently gripped Radar’s shoulder, pulling him inside. “Creators, Radar, that’s ages away. Come inside, you’re freezing .”

Jesse nodded and stepped backwards out of their way, momentarily tearing his adoring gaze away from Goldie. The sight of the town leader was mildly concerning; despite the sweat beading along his hairline from the overexertion, Radar was violently shivering, having clearly not dressed appropriately for the frigid temperatures. Even then, his hands and sleeves were slightly dirtied, as if he’d been helping out with the new buildings in the east he’d been talking about.

Creators. He seriously doesn’t give himself a break, huh?

“Here.” Lukas’ voice snapped him out of his trance, hand outstretched to pass the hero a leash. “Tie her to the fence. I’m… gonna make us tea.”

Jesse accepted it gratefully, tossing a quick “thanks” behind him as he hastily scrambled down the front steps. A relieved giggle escaping his lips, he reached up to pet Goldie’s pink nose; the horse leaning in to nuzzle his face in response.

“Jeez, I’m so glad you’re okay!” He breathed out, pulling away to tie the leash to the front of her armor. “How’d you find me, girl? It’s been months!”

Goldie merely nickered in response, nudging his head affectionately with her nose as Jesse led her into the sheltered pen by the front of Lukas’ house. Raking his gaze over her lithe frame, he noted that she was thankfully uninjured, though one of the storage packs she usually carried was damaged; empty and torn down the middle. On closer inspection, the hero realised it was the one he’d store her food in on long journeys.

“Was that you?” He hummed, impressed, to which she flicked her ear in acknowledgement. Grinning, he gave her neck a firm pat, tousling her mane. “Clever girl.”

Reaching over to detach the other bag from her armor, Jesse then tied her lead to the fence post, stepped back and shut the gate. “I’ll get you some fresh hay tomorrow morning. For now, get some rest, okay?” 

As if understanding him fluently, Goldie gave him one last soft whicker before settling down on the floor of her pen, letting out a contented sigh. Jesse gazed at her affectionately for another beat, then turned away on his crutches, bag tucked under his arm as he slipped back inside the house. 

Radar sat in his previous spot on the sofa, a half-drunk mug of tea clutched firmly in his hands. Jesse settled into the armchair, attempting to tune into the town leader’s excited chatter about the expansions. Lukas merely observed–unable to really get a word in anyway–busying himself with sipping from his own cup. Meeting Jesse’s gaze, he briefly raised his eyebrows in an expression of his awe at the speed of Radar’s speech, then glanced down at the third mug of tea on the coffee table, calling Jesse’s attention to it.

Jesse picked it up, thankful for the warmth that seeped into his chilled hands, and took a sip. 

Radar’s shivering less. That’s good. 

His mind quickly wandered, reeling too hard to follow his former intern’s rapid rambling about the town’s renovations and something paperwork-related he couldn’t make sense of.

I just… cannot believe he found Goldie. I was starting to think she wouldn’t come back. This is good timing, actually. You know, if we go through with the whole… kidnap-Radar plan.

“Wait, Radar, slow down.” Lukas’ voice cut through the town leader’s relentless dialogue, recapturing Jesse’s attention. “Why were you helping with the construction in the first place? That wasn’t one of your jobs.”

Radar awkwardly adjusted his glasses, dodging eye contact with the author. “Well, yeah, I know, but one of the builders had to go home, so I thought I could fill in! Didn’t wanna fall behind schedule, you see. Speaking of, I really need to get back there-”

Lukas blinked, brow furrowing. “One less builder isn’t gonna throw us off, Radar, we’ll be fine. Go home, they can handle it. It’s not an urgent task, anyway, we can afford to go off schedule.”

The former intern looked affronted at the suggestion. “Wh- that’s preposterous! Why bother having a schedule if you aren’t going to stick with it?” Taking one final, jerky swig of his drink, Radar set the cup down and shot to his feet, suddenly noticeably agitated. “Look, thank you for the tea, I appreciate it, but they need me out there, so I’ll-”

Lukas rose out of his chair to block Radar’s path, folding his arms. His voice came out firm, but there was no scorn behind it; only gentle assertion and a certain protectiveness that Jesse had always been fond of.

“You don’t ‘need’ to help out, you were due home two hours ago. You’re not even dressed for the weather! I promise they’ll be fine without you, okay?”

Radar shook his head, tensing and fidgeting with the sleeve of his too-thin jacket. The scene grew Jesse’s concern tenfold; back when he was his intern, Radar had always been… perhaps a little obsessive over running Beacontown perfectly. But–even despite his boundless anxious energy–it was never to the point of complete overwork.

Okay, Lukas was definitely right. Something’s up.

Radar opened his mouth to argue and the author raised his hands in forfeit, cutting him off.

“Okay, okay, fine. I won’t stop you. But can I at least walk you back? It’s too late to be out on your own.”

The town leader’s stance softened. “Uhm… if it’s not too much trouble, yeah. Thanks.”

“Oh, here-” Jesse finally piped up, snapping his fingers before plunging a hand into the large satchel and retrieving an impressive, polished bow, alongside a sizeable handful of arrows. He outstretched it to Lukas, who hesitantly grasped it by the handle, a little taken aback. 

“Take this with you. I’ve got a spare sword in here too, if you’d prefer, but I figured you’re more of an archer.”

Lukas grinned, briskly strolling to the other side of the room for his coat. “Well, you figured correctly. Thanks.” 

Shrugging his usual trench onto broad shoulders, an idea seemed to strike him as he straightened out the collar, and the author quickly sped into the back room, throwing up a finger as if to say “one second.” He returned with some garment folded neatly in his arms, and Jesse had to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of it as Lukas held it out to Radar.

“Hold onto this for a while.” He offered as the former intern cautiously accepted, eyes widening as he recognised the old apparel. “If you’re gonna overwork yourself, at least do me the favour of not freezing to death.”

“Your Ocelot jacket?” Radar’s voice was hushed with awe as he quickly slotted into it. “Really? Thank you!”

Beaming, he spun around to show Jesse the outfit. It was a somewhat awkward fit, the worn leather hanging a little strangely on Radar’s narrower shoulders and slightly shorter frame, but the hero grinned nonetheless, whistling as though significantly impressed.

“Looking sharp, buddy.”

Jesse didn’t think the town leader could smile any harder, and yet, he was inevitably proven wrong by Radar’s ecstatic expression. Shaking his head as if to reset his focus, he practically bounded out of the door, Lukas following close behind, waving to Jesse as he did.

“Thanks!” Radar called out. “See you, Jesse!”

“Bye, Radar, and thanks for finding Goldie!” He yelled back, chuckling. “Seriously, man, I owe you.”

Lukas grinned as he moved to shut the door, tossing a hasty “won’t be long” through it as it locked with a soft click.

That just left Jesse alone, silence broken only by the occasional popping of firewood and the static that rushed in to fill his ears. He was suddenly intensely aware of the death-grip he had on the journal that he’d never put down–forgotten in his rigid grasp–and he set down his cup to grasp it in two hands. The very sight of it made his stomach churn, anxiety rolling through him like stormclouds as the instinct to skim through the pages grew stronger and stronger.

Jesse didn’t want to open it. He knew damn well what was inside. He didn’t want to face it, to confront the raw feelings he’d locked away in every entry. And he knew even better that he couldn’t keep it. Not here.

My current journal is bad enough. What if Lukas finds this one?

Reluctantly, Jesse screwed up his face as his lack of self-control won out. He tossed the weathered journal open, leafing back and forth onto random, warped pages from his last two years of travelling, skimming the introductions of entries with a mounting paranoia as though someone were looming over his shoulder.

Entry 20

Jeez. Jack was right about “Twisting Death Cavern.” I mean, from the name alone, I don't know what else I could’ve possibly expected. 

Entry 67

The Mesa people are doing well. They still don’t really want anything to do with Harper, though. Makes you think…

Entry 70

I need to stop taking travel suggestions from Jack, no matter how many bounties there are to collect. Sur’gao Pass is downright treacherous, even if we did do pretty well for ourselves. Could’ve used an archer, though. That way, I wouldn’t have an arrow in my shoulder.

Entry 131

I’m so tired. We’ve been moving for days.

Entry 153

I have no idea where we are–we’re totally lost–but at least it’s really pretty. I thought the world had run out of ways to surprise me, but watching the sun rise over these mountains is kinda breathtaking. I wish Lukas were here to see it. He’d say something clever, or nothing at all, just watching it happen with those sparkly blue eyes full of wonder. Either way, I’d get to see the light framing his face.

Entry 49

Petra got hurt. Bad. I had to take her to a hospital again to be safe. Just being here makes me feel sick… reminds me of that time I thought she was gonna die. I said I’d wait here, but my skin is crawling. I’m sure she’d understand if I got some air.

Entry 175

Note to self: Dresh-Najell Valley is a TERRIBLE shortcut. 

Entry 58 

I’m having one of those nights where I can’t think about anything but Beacontown. You’d think it gets easier five years in, but it never does. I miss my home. I’m scared that if I don’t turn back now, I’ll never be able to.

Entry 105

REMINDER: Pick up carrots for the horses, wheat for Lluna, and more arrows. Restock medical supplies at the next town. 

Entry 62

I hate these portals. The adventures are fun, but whenever we stumble onto somewhere a little too familiar, I’m plunged back into the terror I felt all those years ago, when I started to worry I’d never see my home again. That lasted two weeks. Now I haven’t seen my home in four years.

Entry 133

I’m a coward. I just… can’t bring myself to go to Beacontown. No matter how much it completely tears me up inside. I just know if I go back… I wouldn’t have the strength to leave again.

Entry 166

Petra’s off on her own for a while. Something about meeting a friend. I’d bet good money it’s Stella. Champion City is totally different now it’s been rebuilt, I guess she learned her lesson after it got… totally annihilated by the Admin. I wish I could do what Petra does. Go back.

Entry 180

I don’t know what I want. Home is so close I could make it in a day or two. I could reach out and grab it.

Entry 184

Lukas won’t want to see me. Nobody will, not after all this time. I won't blame them.

Entry 189

This is driving me insane. I see him everywhere. Why now? Why is it suddenly so difficult all over again?

Entry 191

I’m sick of this. 

I’m going back to Beacontown.

That finally caught Jesse’s attention.The entry was dated just a week or so before he showed up on Lukas’ doorstep. He stopped mindlessly scrolling through the journal, letting the battered pages fall open in his lap. 

I’m trying to convince myself it isn't a big deal. I mean, I used to do this all the time. Sneak back at night, when nobody would see me. Just to get a look at the place. Hoping, no matter how impossible, that I'd catch a glimpse of Lukas. I did, once. And I've been chasing that high ever since. He seemed well-adjusted. Happy. That’s all I want.

After I first left, I couldn’t bring myself to go visit. I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to leave a second time. But I had to leave! It’s what I wanted. I love adventure, and I know it would’ve followed me if i’d stayed, anyway. I was just so, so sick of watching the people I love get hurt because of me. I guess I figured that danger couldn’t follow me if I was chasing it.

Of course a part of me wishes I stayed. This emotional hell could’ve all been avoided if I just… visited, sent a letter or two, like a NORMAL person. But the farther I travelled, the harder it got. And I didnt feel like… taunting Lukas like that. Turning up just to leave all over again. Reminding him of what I did. I had to let him move on.

I just need to see the place. I know it’s been a while, but for whatever reason, I'm going a bit nuts lately. I just need to… reassure myself that everything's okay. That everyone’s moved on, and they are actually better off without me. 

I know it won’t happen, but I still hope I see him. He’s been haunting every corner of my brain for Creators-knows how long now. 

I miss him more than anything. I hope he doesn’t miss me.

Jesse found himself mouthing along to the final entry in the tattered notepad, the memory of writing them flooding back in tidal waves. He swallowed hard, sucking in a breath to steady his freshly pounding heart, his shaking hands, the sweat forming on the back of his neck. 

He couldn’t keep it. It would lie like a film on his conscience, just having the truth–the shameful, honest, ugly truth–in his very hands. 

Wordlessly, carefully, every limb trembling like a fragile leaf, he rose to his feet, gripping each crutch with white knuckles, and tossed it into the fireplace.