Chapter Text
Velver’s apprehension grows with each step. The higher he climbs, the more he wants to turn around. This isn’t a feeling he’s used to. He’s used to doing what needs to be done and saving the regret for later. This is an entirely different beast, and he can’t just ask Elmyra to turn around. They’re almost at the top of the spire. She’d get frustrated with him, but worst of all, worried.
So he doesn’t say anything as they finally reach the top. Elmyra groans and runs her hands over her legs, making some comment about how the climb killed them. Velver hears the words, but if she asked him to repeat them, he wouldn’t be able to. His mind is focused on two things: the cold empty quest bed and his gun’s heavy weight in his specibus.
Lightning arcs in the distance as his childhood friend approaches her bed. There’s no thunder - there never is - but it still has a booming significance in his mind. He’s going to kill her with the gun she made for him. The very gun that killed highbloods in one shot - the very gun that made lightning arc across their veins. Now here it is, wild and boundless as it arcs between massive steel rods. Here it is, controlled and harnessed inside a compact little death machine. The thing she could tame from the very beginning is going to be the death of her.
He’s going to be the death of her.
Elmyra turns towards him. She doesn’t sit, instead she says something about how it’ll be more natural if she stands. Velver swallows. He dared to hope that she would try to sleep before he had to do it, or that she would at least turn away from him. Now she’s staring at him and he can’t tell her to stop. That would only worry her. He can’t worry her.
He almost jumps when his gun appears in his hand. He should’ve expected it, he was the one who took it out of his syllabus, but there’s a disconnect somewhere. There’s something between the him that’s going to kill his best friend and the him that wants it all to stop. He raises his arm, but it’s the former that’s doing it. The latter is begging for any way out of this.
Velver aims his gun. Elmyra’s face is accepting, fearful but kind, and it tears him apart. He looks at her and remembers frantic texts when they were both wrigglers, back when they both thought she was going to die. He looks at her and remembers Invvio’s terrified face when his gun was pointed at his head. He looks at her and remembers, vividly, another time he couldn’t shoot the troll in front of him. Only this time it’s his own doing, not Xylona’s.
He realizes that he’s terrified. He’s completely and utterly terrified. Terrified of what happens when he shoots, terrified of what happens when he doesn’t. Terrified that no matter what, he’s already branded himself a coward from this conflict alone. That he’s actually as powerless as he was taught to believe. For the first time he can remember, his careful mask crumbles away as tears flow freely down his face.
Elmyra’s acceptance immediately turns into concern and that terrifies enough to finally shoot her. The gunshot echoes loudest in his head as he drops the gun and covers his face so he can’t see the lightning arcing through her. Like it did with Zeggai. He flinches when she hits the bed with a thud, then sobs.
He doesn’ t- no, he can’t - watch her body rise. He has to get himself under control. Her Derse self is dead, she’s going to wake up right here , he can’t let her see him like this. He wants to run right back down the stairs, but his legs are traitors are too shaky to carry him down. Instead he turns, closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the lightning in the sky, and counts to ten. Several times.
Velver managed to shut his mind off somewhere along the way, so the hand on his shoulder startles him back to reality. He blinks his eyes open, wipes his tears away as subtly as he can, and looks over his shoulder.
Elmyra stands there, brows furrowed in equal parts concerned and determined. She looks resolute, which he can’t blame her for even as he wishes he could. “Velver. We need to talk.”
He looks away again. Then starts towards the stairs, legs no longer as shaky as they once were. “No. We don’t.”
She grabs his arm and grips him tightly, forcing him to stop. “Yes we do! Something was clearly upsetting you!”
Velver doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t want her to see the twist of his lips, a weak snarl threatening to break though. “Why don’t you stop and consider what may have caused it?”
Elmyra does, though she doesn’t let go of his arm. Nor does she say what conclusion she’s reached.
“We’re not talking about it.”
“Velver-”
“I’m fine, and I’d feel finer if we moved on and forgot it ever happened.”
She huffs and moves to stand in front of him. “I just want to help you!”
He looks away, towards the lightning instead. Even it is better than this. “I don’t need help.”
“Bullshit!”
Velver rips his arm from her grasp and turns around. “Even if I did - which I don’t - I wouldn’t burden you with it! You’ve gone through enough of my bullshit already.”
He crosses his arms and stares at the ground. Elmyra doesn’t say anything, not for a long while. Then a nearby arc of lightning illuminates the stone as her voice starts out low and frustrated. “No you haven’t. You haven’t put me through enough of your bullshit because that would require putting me through any of your bullshit! Which, fucking newsflash, you don’t do!” she yells. “You keep all your bullshit locked up inside your own little Bullshit Box where you, and nobody else, never has to look at or acknowledge its existence!”
She pauses for breath, waiting for Velver to respond, but the moment passes and she angrily kicks at the ground.
“I’ve accepted that. I’ve just - gogdamnit Velver, against everything I ever wanted, I’ve accepted that you’re more comfortable stuffing all your negative thoughts and experiences into your Bullshit Box. I’ve accepted that! But here’s the thing. I have never seen you cry. Not once during all four sweeps we’ve known each other. I-” she pauses here, like the words don’t want to come. “I genuinely thought you would die before showing any emotional weakness in front of people, let alone crying. But there you were. Crying in front of me.”
Elmyra’s worried . That makes him terrified again. Not the fact that she finally snapped at him, but the fact that she’s finally concerned. Velver’s suddenly glad he turned around, this way she doesn’t have to see the new wave of tears threatening to escape. “That’s- that’s different.”
“No it’s fucking not!!” she screams. He can vividly imagine her shaking her fist at him, lips curled in anger and brows furrowed in worry , and he has to cover his mouth to fight back another sob. “Sure! Yes, killing me would hurt you! Of course it would upset you! I’m not doubting that! But you’re capable of fitting a lot into your crowded-ass Bullshit Box! You would never in a million years cry in front of me - in front of anyone - unless something was seriously wrong with you!”
She pauses to breathe again but it’s shaky now, like she’s on the verge of crying, and it twists a knife into Velver’s heart.
“I’m pretty damn sure that you finally stuffed your Bullshit Box with enough surplus that it’s spilling out all over the place. You can’t shove any more bullshit into it, not without more bursting out of it. So- So here’s what I’m going to say to you.”
She takes another deep breath to steady herself. It feels like she keeps pausing to let him speak, but he can’t right now. Not without more spilling out of his… Bullshit Box .
“I know you don’t want me to see you like this. And- fine! Sure, whatever. You don’t even have to talk to me about this right now. But we are going to have a talk once you get sorted out. You don’t have to sort it out with me, but you’re sorting it out with someone . Like your gogdamn moirail! That’s his job! If I have to, I will drag you to him kicking and screaming! You’re going to talk about your feelings for once in your life, do you understand!?”
Slowly and reluctantly, Velver nods.
“Good. Now- am I dragging you or are you walking?”
He can’t answer her right away, but she waits for him to wipe his eyes again and clear his throat. Then he imagines just how badly she must be struggling to stay patient, and his lips twitch into something resembling a smile. “I’ll walk.”
“Perfect!” she answers immediately, and though he doesn’t laugh, some tiny part inside of him does. “Lead the way!”
Velver finally turns to face her again. She smiles reassuringly with a few unshed tears in her eyes and he has to look away. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on it. “You can go ahead and fly down. I’ll take the stairs.”
Elmyra laughs mockingly as she grabs his hand. “You really think I’m leaving your side? No, I’m not leaving until someone else I trust is here to watch over you.”
“I don’t need someone to watch over me-”
“I know you don’t, but I want you to have someone!”
He pauses, then squeezes her hand. “I’m sorry I made you so concerned.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll talk about it later. Now start walking! We got places to be!”
He glances back at her, at all the worry and determination she just can’t hide, and she squeezes his hand.
“I care about you.”
“I know.”