A/N: Hi everyone! I'm just dropping in to warn you that this chapter makes no sense. I wrote it over the span of a week and it kind of feels like a lucid dream, but it's got Wesper in it, so who cares? I hope you enjoy, have a good day/night/anything in between! :)
What a day.
First Jesper had swooped a merchling off his feet. Then he jumped in front of a bullet. And finally, he had run for his life to save that very same merchling from being blown to bits. If that didn't deserve a holiday then he didn't know what would.
Because of this, the safe house seemed quite dull after the others had left, even though Jesper knew Scales could jump out at them and kill them if he knew where they were. Their defence was weak, and running would do no good in the long, winding streets of the Warehouse District. They were sitting ducks. Literally.
That was all they did. Sit. Jesper had barely spoken to Wylan in the hours they had been together. No matter what he did, he couldn't find the right words to say to the merchling. What do you say to someone after you save their life by revealing a magical power? Jesper doubted there were any relationship books about that.
Wylan didn't seem to know what to say either, but that was a given; the boy could barely ever get his words straight. It was one of the things Jesper liked about him.
No! There he was again! Fantasising things that he could never allow to happen. Sure, he had lost his strength in that room at the Crow Club, but that was over now; he couldn't start to give Wylan the wrong idea.
Jesper wished he could find a way to make things work out with Wylan, but his head wouldn't allow it, no matter how much his heart beat for him. Wylan was a pure, untainted ball of courage that Jesper couldn't bear to see get hurt. And he would hurt Wylan; it was in his nature. Jesper couldn't hold onto a relationship if it ran to him and glued itself to him. Wylan deserved so much more than a one-night stand and then a ghosting. He deserved someone who would care for him and treasure him like the most beautiful revolver. And though Jesper would love that person to be him, he just couldn't see it happening. How could a merchling ever love a gambler?
So he began keeping Wylan at a distance, and Wylan seemed to catch on quickly, constantly avoiding Jesper's gaze and not talking much. Jesper hated to admit that it hurt to see Wylan give up so easily, but it was for the best. A handsome boy like that would find a way to get over Jesper quickly anyway.
Slowly the hours began to trickle into a day, then two, until by nightfall Jesper felt he was going mad. All he wanted to do was to sprint to the nearest gambling parlour, or take a deep swig of booze, or shoot at a complete stranger. The feelings made him restless, the constant need to fulfill them never stopping. There was one thing that stopped him though.
Wylan lay slumped across an armchair on the other side of the room, mindlessly fiddling with two bits of metal as of they would magically make a bomb. His eyes fought to stay open as he was supposed to be keeping watch (Jesper didn't trust Anika and Pim's abilities in the slightest). Wylan hadn't been the same since the scrape at the Crow Club, but Jesper still wasn't sure why. They had made it out alive alright, so what was the problem? But no matter how much Jesper pondered these thoughts, it didn't change the fact that Wylan was in no way to defend himself, no matter how many bombs he had stashed around the place.
Oh. That reminded Jesper. "Hey, have any of your cuts opened again?" He asked.
Wylan started awake, before shaking his head. Jesper knew he was lying; small spots of blood had already appeared on his bandaged hands.
"Here, I'll fix it for you," Jesper marched over, and Wylan didn't have time to move away.
"Don't," he whispered, and Jesper froze. "We... we shouldn't do this."
He knew Wylan wasn't just talking about the bandages. They were walking on dangerous territory, and Wylan was proving to be stronger than Jesper in his restraint, whereas all Jesper wanted to do was rip off the bandages and kiss Wylan's hands until his pain went away. He supposed that's what life threatening situations did to people. I mean, look at Nina and Matthias! But helping out a friend with injuries wasn't weird... right?
No, it wasn't weird. And that was what Jesper kept telling himself as he sat on the opposite armchair and carefully unwrapped the bandages. Jesper wasn't a medical expert like Nina, and he barely knew how to put on a plaster, let alone wrap a serious injury, and both he and Wylan had to suppress giggles as he dropped the roll for the second time in a row.
For a while they sat in awkward silence, apart from the crinkle of the bandages and both their breaths. A cart drove by in sullen silence. A crow cawed, and no-one answered. Far away in the warehouse, a clock struck the hour.
"So... when did you first realise you were Grisha?" Wylan asked timidly, testing the waters.
Jesper shrugged. "Probably when I was six."
That was a lie. Jesper had known since he was born that he was different. That the making at the heart of the world pumped through his blood, livening up his veins until he felt like he would explode if he didn't use his gift. Gift. It was normal to call it that back then. Not abomination, not curse, and not something to hide. It was something beautiful and wonderful and thrilling that Jesper could hone down on and focus on, even when his mind drifted to the farm and his father and that horrid word: Hunter.
"You're a Fabrikator, right?"
"I'm pretty sure. I mean, I haven't had any training, and it's not certain but..." Jesper trailed off. He hated talking about this. About his curse. Because in a place like this it was something to hide. Something to fear and keep at bay with the bad smell of liquor and the dealing of cheap cards. And revealing it to Wylan only made it all the more real. It brought to light that Jesper couldn't hide forever, and that was terrifying.
"Why did you never get the training?"
"My father didn't want me to have it. He... I suppose he needed my help on the farm." Jesper said weakly.
Wylan looked up at him with wide eyes. "You used to live on a farm?!" He said incredulously.
Oops. Had he already said too much? "And you used to be one of the richest boys in Ketterdam. We're all more than our looks, merchling."
"Oh... right. But if you had the chance to train, would you take it?" Wylan pushed.
"Why are we talking about this?" Jesper replied angrily, ignoring Wylan's wince as he accidentally pressed on a burn mark. "If you have such a problem with it then why do you keep mentioning it? I didn't have to save your life, you know! Maybe next time you should try catching the bullet!"
Wylan glared at him from beneath sunshine-locks of hair. "But you did save my life, Jesper! We can't just ignore that fact!"
"We can, and we will. This makes us even now, anyway." Jesper mumbled. He realised he'd made a mistake the second the words left his mouth.
"We're even? Is that it? Did you only save me to make yourself feel better?! I can't... I saved you because I cared about you, Jes. Not because I owed you anything. I saved you because you were the first person in my life who I felt comfortable around! But if that feeling will never be returned then tell me to leave. Tell me to go back to my cell and build bombs. I don't care anymore."
Wylan snatched the bundle of bandages from Jesper and made to leave, but Jesper grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. He couldn't bear to look into Wylan's oceanic eyes as he said the next words, so he opted for the ground instead.
"I... I didn't mean to save you, Wy. It just... happened." The words felt sticky and foreign in his mouth, but maybe that was because they were the truth. "I haven't used my powers in three years. That was the first time I've ever caught a bullet. I need you to stay, Wy, because I can't imagine anything different. I need you to stay because I jumped a bullet for you, and I may not know the reason why but I want to find out."
Silence. Jesper didn't know if that was good or bad. At least Wylan hadn't stormed out... yet. The scary thing was, Jesper had just revealed himself in a way he never thought he could to a person anymore. But he was glad it was Wylan; the boy was the youngest out of all of them and yet he could carry a mountain on his back.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Wylan pulled away and plopped down on an armchair. Jesper stared at him in surprise.
"Come on then; tell me about the farm!" Wylan pushed.
Jesper grinned, his heart lighting up, and it was the best feeling in the world.
They talked for hours about anything and everything; somehow the conversation journeyed to far-away lands of Novi Zem, all the way to the mysterious Little Palace and then a direct carriage to the infamous Ice Court in Fjerda. Their words floated like wind filling their sails, their sentences stretching on and on.
They started with the farm; Jesper recalling his tales of hard labour and how he worked his ass off for no pay. He didn't tell Wylan of the rhythmatic music of the crops, or the deep blue of the sky that reminded Jesper of Wylan's eyes, before the sun set and the heavens caught fire. But Wylan seemed to understand anyway, as if he was seeing through Jesper's eyes.
They debated over the best angle to throw a bomb, eunanymously decided that pork was definitely the best type of meat because bacon came from it, and they even started to do impressions of the other Crows. Matthias was easy, as all Jesper had to do was stand as straight as a pencil and glare at everyone, but he couldn't get the hang of Kaz, and a part of him was glad of it; someone he had looked up to once was now merely a partner in crime. Wylan surprisingly did the best Kaz impression, until Jesper tried to do Inej and tipped the whole chair over, and they both peeled into howls of laughter. Anika eventually came to check on them, took one look and walked straight out. Jesper was glad; he didn't want anyone else there.
"Hey, you never answered my question," Wylan began. It was late; late enough that, even though Ketterdam was alive at night, the world still breathed out a deep sigh of sleep.
"Which one was that? The lessons on how to flirt with guys or the brownie one?" Jesper replied, hiding his own flush as Wylan did the same.
"Neither. If you had the chance to train properly... to go to Ravka... would you take it?"
The words seemed to come easier in the pitch black. "Honestly? I feel like a part of me has been missing my whole life, and I've been ignoring the fact that it is part of me, and I have no choice. But Wy, I'm not a Grisha. Grisha use their powers for good; I use mine to lock and unlock my crappy Barrel room every day. Besides, I'm too old now." He had checked the age for Little Palace training too many times to count, and it seemed he had missed his chance.
"Jes, you're still a Grisha. Just because you don't work for the crazies over in Ravka doesn't change who you are, and neither does your father's opinion." Wylan stopped to think for a moment. "You know, it's strange; your father tried to hide your gift, but I think if I was a Grisha mine would have paraded me around like a peacock. It might have distracted from... well, other things."
Jesper brushed over whatever the 'things' might be; if Wylan wasn't ready to tell anyone that he couldn't read then Jesper could wait a thousand years. But it was strange; Jesper had run away to Kerch to escape his father's fears that were slowly becoming his own, but ever since being here he had hidden more than ever. It was quite ironic, really.
"So you... you don't mind that I'm not just an incredibly handsome sharpshooter, but also an incredibly handsome Frabrikator?" Jesper asked lightly, but the next answer would be crucial; if Wylan didn't accept him it would be the final straw for his powers.
"Are you kidding? It's awesome! Now I finally have someone to talk to about metallic building materials!" Wylan laughed as Jesper groaned, but inside he was beaming. There had been only green flags so far.
Far across the house the clock struck the hour again. As if on cue, Wylan yawned, and Jesper struggled to keep his own fatigue at bay.
"Come on, it's late. You should get some sleep."
Wylan nodded lazily and got up to leave. Just as he was at the doorway, he turned around. "Jesper, for whatever reason your father covered up your powers, he did it because he loved you. Always remember that you have him to lean on and you have... you have me too."
Wylan's smile lit up the room brighter than any moonlight, and Jesper could only stare at the spot he had been standing at to stop himself from jumping for joy. Instead he collapsed to the floor, and covered his blush with his hands. For one of the first times ever, he was tied on a hook.
A/N: I cannot two whether I love or hate this chapter... oh well! Thanks for being here!