A/N: Aha, ready for some unrealistic fanfic cringe? Hehe, me too. Yeah, there is no way in Ghezen's name that Bardugo would ever write like this, but I live for the angst and the fluff, plus this is Wattpad, so I'm giving myself a pass. I hope you enjoy, and have a good day/night!
Silence flooded the room as Kaz's footsteps faded away. Wylan fiddled with his hands awkwardly, then winced as he touched his burns. He tried to meet Jesper's eyes, but Jesper kept his eyes trained on the floor. Wylan fiddled with his hands again.
To be honest with himself, Jesper didn't know what to say. Things felt different between them now... from the awkwardness and nervousness to the intimate moment they had shared that Wylan had surely forgotten, and another emotion Jesper couldn't control. Anger.
What was he even angry about? Wylan was safe, he had survived, but that didn't stop the blood boiling in his chest. He had been so close to killing Van Eck, just metres away from the house. Jesper could practically hear the chaos unfolding... the slamming of doors, the shriek of a bullet piercing flesh, the wails of journalists as they tried to barge past the stadwatch officers guarding him as they led him to his trial, and, illegidley, his death. Kaz wouldn't be able to pull him through this time. He wouldn't perform a daring prison escape for him. Not this time. The world would watch him die, but it wouldn't matter, because revenge would be served and a despicable man would be dead and his son...
His son. Wylan. Jesper had left Wylan out of his plan. Because he knew what he would see; Inej had only highlighted that.
How can he heal if you are gone?
She was right. Wylan would not congratulate him or thank him. Jesper knew from the short time that they had known each other that that just wasn't who he was. From what he had heard from Wylan and Kaz's conversation, Wylan wanted to grow; to leave behind his father, not in a pool of blood, but as a distant, dusty memory. And who was Jesper to stop that? He would much rather be part of Wylan's new memories more than his old ones.
Jesper looked at the boy now; his hair was ruffled as usual, sapphire eyes unable to focus on one thing in the room that he had managed to make as messy as it could possibly be in the last few days. His fingers wobbled over each other as he tugged at the few remaining banadages. Those beautiful, pale hands. So unlike Kaz's black, masked ones and Inej's small, knife-throwing ones. Completely opposite to Nina's powerful, Heartrender hands and Matthias's large, bone crushing fingers. They were alien to his own as well, but that was Wylan. He was different from everyone, but that only made him more perfect. He had a piece of all of them mixed together, and that was Jesper's favourite part about him. He suddenly had the strong urge to grab his hand and never let go, because it was the only thing Jesper could ever give him; his hand.
But, underneath all that, all of his emotional, roller-coaster feelings and revelations, Jesper was still angry. And he didn't even know who at anymore.
"Um... Jesper?" Wylan eventually said, breaking the silence, and Jesper's thoughts, like glass.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The words weren't supposed to leave his mouth. In fact, Jesper hadn't even realised he was thinking them. But when they did he realised that that was what had been bothering him so much; that Wylan had kept this all to himself. That he had endured everything; Kaz's harsh words, Matthias's weariness, Nina's babbling, Inej's calmness and even his own insults... and all the while his father had him on a leash, striking him with scars that might never fade. And, even if they did, no one could ever completely forget. Van Eck had left a ghost.
Wylan looked surprised. "About what?"
Jesper snorted. "You know what."
Wylan scowled. "Why would I? You never seemed to care until recently! It didn't matter anyway. You said it yourself; I was going to die either way."
"Yeah well... it would've been... nice to know..."
"What, so you could pity me? So I could be a charity case? A weak, helpless thing to be martyred? I have survived my whole life with this, and no one has ever bothered to ask! No one cared! Not my father's business partners, not my tutors, not even the servants! I was so disgusting that even my own father wanted me dead! The only person that ever cared was my mother and she... she..." Wylan was crying now, tears free-falling as he screamed. "Why do you care, Jes? Why?" He yelled.
"Because it's my fault, ok! If I hadn't kidnapped you and brought you back here then you would have saved up enough money to get as far away from your father as possible! You would be free from the Barrel, and free from all of us." Free from me.
The word hung in the air like storm clouds waiting to fall. Jesper couldn't look at Wylan, because both their words had hurt the other. Wylan was anything but a charity case to Jesper; he was brave and strong and loyal, the most amazing person he'd ever met, and Jesper cared because...
He didn't really know. He supposed he did blame himself, in a way. Maybe he could have prevented all this, somehow. He had screwed up so many times in the past, and he didn't want to screw up this; this connection he had to Wylan. The feeling that got him as high as any drug, and as low as any depression. The feeling that kept him away from a gambling parlour for just one night, if it meant spending time with the boy.
"Saints, I wish I was different," Wylan finally whispered. "I wish I could do everything that normal people can do. I wish I could be a conman like Kaz and throw a knife like Inej and cheer someone up like Nina and be brave like Matthias. Because then... then I would mean something. My life wouldn't be a waste. Then I could be somebody to you."
The last words were mere mutterings, but when Jesper heard them his heart skipped a beat. Because they were the thoughts that mirrored his own. The thoughts that haunted him at night, the thoughts that crept up on him like hungry shadows whispering in his mind. Who was Jesper to deserve someone like Wylan? Who was he to try and keep him safe and make him happy? A low-life, drunken gambler with a dangerous and deadly future? What did he have to offer?
Jesper was across the room in seconds, towering over an incredibly red Wylan. Cautiously, he lifted his hand up, and Wylan flinched, as if waiting for a blow. But Jesper merely cupped his neck and pulled him closer, enveloping him in a much-needed hug. Wylan went rigid, hesitating as Jesper held the back of his head protectively, but eventually he softened, wrapping his arms around Jesper's waist, burying his head into his shoulder.
"You're enough, Wy." Jesper whispered into his curls. "You'd be enough for the most lowly Barrel Rat or the King of Ravka. And if your father is too pig-headed to see that then it's his loss. You..." he hesitated, not wanting to say the next words, but he knew it was the right thing. "You could escape. You could be free. Why are you staying?"
Wylan pulled back slightly, crystal blue eyes meeting curious grey ones. "I'm not done with Ketterdam, Jes. And I don't think I will ever be. This place may have turned its back on me, but that doesn't mean I have to do the same."
Jesper grinned and ruffled his hair. "You're sounding a lot like Dirtyhands there, merchling. And when did you start calling me 'Jes'?"
Wylan blushed and rolled his eyes. "You know... well, I think it was in a dream when you... it doesn't matter. Does it bother you?"
Jesper pretended to consider this, but really his heart was doing somersaults. A nickname! "No, I like it. Has a nice ring to it."
Wylan laughed, then winced as Jesper's hand brushed against his back. His smile turned into a frown. He needed to check something.
"Wy... can I see them?"
Wylan seemed to know what he meant immediately and, turning away, pulled off his shirt to reveal his scarred back, still healing slowly under Nina's limited Heartrender capabilities. Bandages were wrapped around the main wounds, but the older ones merely left a pale, crescent line that was small against Wylan's grown-up back. This was the one that was given to him when he was four. The one he had gotten trying to defend his mother.
Anger flared up in a flickering flame inside Jesper's heart, but he quenched it, focusing on the boy in front of him, of his steady breathing that spoke so many words. I trust you, it seemed to say.
Jesper's limbs moved automatically as he bent down and kissed the scar, sending shivers through Wylan. But he didn't pull away. Not as Jesper's cold hands touched his boiling skin. Not as he stood back up and cupped Wylan's cheek. In fact, they were both so lost to each other that neither flinched when the gunshot echoed in the air.
A/N: Was it cruel to cut you off there? Yes it was. Did I do it anyway? Yes I did. Anyway, to be continued... DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!!!