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Summary
On making it through the aftermath, whether you're a boy grieving his first friend, or a star choosing the ground.
(Or: Hunter and The Collector, after Belos's defeat but before the timeskip.)
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- 31,939
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- 2
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- 26
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The emotions that these two fics have invoked in me like one would invoke an ancient curse are far beyond mortal comprehension
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u know that heaviness in ur chest when u want to cry? yeah i felt something like that in the first work, meanwhile on the second one i felt it a lot
its just that the collector from this series reminds me quite a lot to younger me, and i dont know, it just made me a bit emotionali liked it a lot, and i think that reading it at 5 am made it even more special lol
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“Yeah!” Luz flicks him in the forehead and he swats at her, but she just hums. “Like, right now? Lotta your body heat going right into my legs, buddy. You’re like a blanket.”
“Noooo,” they say, but—wonder, a little. “Fibber.”
“Not a fibber,” Luz retorts. “You’re like a space heater. Eda’s joked before that we might not even need heat come wintertime. We can just all huddle around you.”
“But—no.” They wrap their arms around themself. “Stars are—cold-distant. Like so much everything it’s nothing. It’ll all just numb. Nothing feels like anything. It’s just—empty. Forever. And bad all the time.”
“You aren’t in space anymore, though,” Hunter says. “Uh—maybe that means things work a little differently now? Or maybe you’ve just been down here long enough. I mean, I don’t doubt that things are…like you say, up in space. But now this is your home. And I might not live here full-time but even I have to say, that, yeah. You’re alive, if you want to be.”
“Oh,” he says. And thinks for a second.
Want to be. Stars aren’t alive. They can’t become alive, ‘cause elsewise other Archivists would’ve, ‘cause he’s the youngest. But other Archivists don’t live on the ground. Just him. ‘n he shouldn’t, but he does. And, he thinks, looking into Aster’s eyes, I won’t stop.
“Is that really how it works?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Luz says, quietly. “It works however you want it to. No matter what anybody might say otherwise.”
“That’s not how it’s suppose to work,” they say, but they think they maybe get it. Them staying. Aster’s tail wagging. They roll out of Luz’s lap long enough to cuddle instead against her side and wonder what it feels like to her. She said, warm. And she meant him. “But—thanks.”