Work Text:
It’s hard to get time alone, these days.
Not that you entirely mind, it’s probably better for you to be around people in the long run, but, still. Either you’re working with Hyssop and Verne in the lab, or running errands in town, or cleaning up the cemetery with Hallow, or helping Adora with her magic, or studying Eclipse and Aerin with Filavandrel from a distance. You owe them everything. You love them. It gets exhausting.
You’ve had your ups and downs these last couple weeks. There are good days, where everything is fine, where things go well in the lab and the sun shines a little brighter and you are able to admire Hallow’s smile in the moonlight, and there are bad days, where your skin doesn’t fit right and Adora doesn’t sleep and the sun shines a little too bright.
Today is one of your bad days.
You think you just woke up weird, or something. You feel empty, like there’s nothing to you but harsh, cold sunlight, like the early November air has hollowed out your bones and left you fragile. You’re not fully there when you enter the lab. Your hands feel disconnected from your body, your reactions are slow. It takes multiple tries for Hyssop to get your attention, you let a flask bubble over on what should have been a novice’s brew, and by the time Verne stops you from pouring a reagent into a chemically volatile base, the arcane burner has already gone out. You hadn’t even noticed.
“I think…” he says, not unkindly, hand on your wrist, “I think we’re done for today.” A glance out the window tells you it’s the golden hour. The sun burns red as it dips further towards the horizon line. You nod absently, putting the tube of reagent back in its place. He squeezes your hand, clearly trying to coax you back into your body; you’re not sure if it’s working. “You’re welcome to stay, you know. For the night. Longer, if you need. It’s your place, too.” You nod again. Then, a little louder, he adds, “And I’m sure Hyssop will be happy to cook.”
“No the fuck I won’t?” Hyssop calls from the kitchen, affronted. That gets you to smile. You squeeze Verne’s hand back, blinking a few times and taking a deep breath.
“I might just take you up on that,” you say. Your voice is quiet with disuse. You miss him even when he is here and holding onto you. “I, uh–” You clear your throat, not looking at him. “I’m going to–” You gesture vaguely at yourself, at your work clothes. “Get changed.”
Verne releases you with a small sound of understanding, shooing you out of the lab so he can put things away. You shed your lab coat, hanging it up on the peg beside the divider as you go, and shuffle towards your room. Hyssop is still in the kitchen as you pass; they snag you by the belt loop and pull you in for a side-hug. You don’t reject it, but you don’t necessarily reciprocate, either.
“The hell was he volunteering me for?” they say, tugging you close. “He knows I can’t cook for shit.”
You breathe out a soft laugh, turning enough to kiss their temple. They grin, and the hollowness in your chest fills the smallest amount. Whether or not you deserve the people you have doesn’t really matter; they’ve chosen you, and you doubt they’ll let you go so easily. The days leading to your brother’s death proved that.
Hyssop lets you go. You continue to what was once your room. There is almost certainly a change of clothes still in there. The room is dim as you open the door, the fading evening light low through the skylight. For a moment, you see it lit up in full, pure sunlight suffusing every corner, drenching you in the presence of the divine. You blink and the room is dark again, but you can still feel that divinity buzzing under your skin.
A shower. That’ll help. You snag a change of clothes from the chest of drawers. Maybe you’ll sleep in one of the other rooms, tonight. Perhaps not in your own.
You turn the water to as hot as it will go and let it run until the mirror starts to fog up. You don’t really want to see yourself in any capacity, right now. Only then do you fully undress, place your glasses on the sink, and step under the spray.
The water’s nearly hot enough to burn the gold off your shoulders. For the first time all day, it feels like you can actually breathe.