Tangled In Strings

Chapter 3: A Place Soft Enough to Fall

Subcon Swamp was a place most feared.

The air was heavy here, thick with mist and forgotten whispers. Even Snatcher's own minions avoided it. The water glowed faintly green, and crooked trees twisted themselves into knots trying to reach something they'd never touch.

It was the only part of the forest Snatcher ever came to alone.

Which made it the first place Moonjumper went looking for him.

He found Snatcher hovering low near the edge of the still water, his usually expressive form dimmed and quiet. No booming voice. No mischievous grin. Just silence.

Moonjumper floated beside him, cautious. "You disappeared."

Snatcher didn't look up. "Didn't feel like putting on a show."

Moonjumper's cloak shimmered faintly as he sat down on a rock. The cursed shackles around his wrists were unusually quiet, barely humming.

"You don't have to perform around me, you know."

Snatcher chuckled-dry, humorless. "Funny. Because I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."

There it was.

The crack in the mask.

Moonjumper turned his head, watching him carefully. "You're afraid."

Snatcher stiffened.

"Excuse me?"

"You're afraid of being seen. Really seen. Not the shadow, not the trickster. You."

Snatcher's eyes narrowed. "You say that like it's easy."

Moonjumper tilted his head. "It isn't. But you're still here."

That silence again.

And then:

"Do you know what happens when you let someone get close?" Snatcher said quietly. "They either leave... or they become the reason you fall apart."

Moonjumper's voice was barely a whisper. "You think I'll leave?"

Snatcher didn't answer. But the way he looked at the water-like it held every failed memory-was enough.

Moonjumper stood and stepped closer, his strings trailing behind him like a comet tail. "I've already seen the worst parts of you. Your temper. Your fear. Your grief."

"You don't know half of it."

"Then show me."

Moonjumper reached out slowly, hand glowing with pale starlight. He pressed it gently against Snatcher's chest-right where a heartbeat might have been, long ago.

Snatcher tensed. His form glitched.

"Don't," he whispered, barely audible. "Don't be kind to me. It'll hurt when it ends."

Moonjumper's fingers curled slightly over his phantom chest. "Then let it hurt. But let it be real."

A long pause.

Then, finally, Snatcher looked up-and for the first time, the smile was gone. No mask. Just something raw, flickering, trembling in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not good," he said, voice cracking. "I'm not soft. I'm made of vengeance and bad jokes and too many mistakes."

Moonjumper smiled-small, sad. "You're also made of pieces that want to be whole."

The fog around them thickened, curling like an embrace.

Then-

Moonjumper leaned forward, his cursed mask tilting just slightly to the side.

"Let me do something foolish," he murmured.

Snatcher blinked. "What-"

And Moonjumper kissed him.

It was gentle.

Surprisingly so.

The world didn't stop, or explode, or fix itself. But in that moment, something shifted-like a string long tangled had finally come undone.

Snatcher didn't kiss back, not right away.

He just stood there, still as death, as if the kiss was something he couldn't believe was meant for him.

Then his clawed hand lifted-shaking-and barely, just barely, brushed Moonjumper's side.

When they pulled apart, the swamp was quiet. No birds. No wind.

Only breath.

Only them.

Snatcher looked down, eyes wide, mouth twitching like he was about to say something sarcastic-but couldn't.

"Why would you...?"

Moonjumper's smile was steady, sure.

"Because you're not cursed to be alone anymore."

Snatcher stared at him.

Then finally-finally-let out a long, broken laugh.

"Stars above, I am so screwed."