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That night, when things had calmed down, you found yourself standing outside Erik’s quarters. It was hardly the first time, of course; Sylvando had said on more than one occasion that the two of you had a special bond, and he’d even given the two of you adjacent bunks when your little group first came aboard.
All that aside, you had been standing there for several minutes, fist clenched to knock, but… though you had little trouble facing down giants and beasts and demons, this unassuming door seemed… somehow intimidating.
It seemed, in the end, that you didn’t need to knock; Erik opened the door on his own, an empty plate in his hands. His eyes went wide and he flinched back.
“L-Luminary!” He looked about ready to drop to his knees again, and you weren’t sure your heart could take that, so you smiled gently.
“El is fine,” you said. Elior was the name your mother gave you, but you had always gone by El, and Erik had always taken a particular joy in variations on it.
“El,” Erik stammered, looking uncertain. “Was there… something you needed?”
“I wanted to make sure you were settling in well enough.” You smiled at the empty plate. “Still a bit hungry?”
Erik shifted guiltily. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, eyes on the floor. “It, it’s been a while since there was so much food so close to me, and I… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a pig.”
You huff softly, half amusement and half concern. “If you’re hungry, feel free to eat,” you tell him, reaching out to pat his shoulder and hesitating when Erik cringed. It stung a bit, you couldn’t lie, to see him so afraid of the casual touches you’d been exchanging for months, but you didn’t take it personally.
Erik hadn’t missed the hurt look on your face, though. “Sorry,” he said, quick and quiet.
“It’s okay,” you said, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You gave a wry smile. “I should be apologising to you; I keep forgetting you don’t… know me, anymore.” The last word came out a bit sadder than you meant it to.
“You…” Erik frowned, trying to piece together what he wanted to say. It was an expression you usually only saw when he was trying to be comforting, or when he was particularly confused. In this case, it seemed to be both. “What… what was I, to you?”
You’d been dreading the question. To buy yourself a bit more time, you turned toward the galley, gesturing for Erik to follow.
“Let’s get you some food first,” you said. “I think I can throw something good together; not as good as my mum’s stew, ‘course, but decent, at least.”
Despite following readily enough, Erik still looked a bit guilty. “I’m not making you go out of your way, am I?” he asked, nerves showing in the pitch of his voice.
“No,” you said, “I was actually a bit hungry myself.”
“Okay.” Erik sounded doubtful, but he didn’t call you out on your lie.
Loading . . .
The two of you walked in silence to the galley, where you pulled out all you needed to make a quick soup, and Erik went to sit at the table. While that simmered, you handed him an apple and a thick slice of crusty bread, which he took with a grateful half-smile.
“Thanks,” he said, and for a moment, it was like nothing had happened.
“‘Course,” you smiled, going to sit near him.
Erik went stiff, and the illusion was broken. Without commenting, you went to sit across from him instead.
“...Can I ask what happened to you?” You shifted a bit in your seat. “You… seem like you can’t relax.”
Erik looked down at his half-eaten apple and shrugged. “Usually, when I get caught stealing… it doesn’t end like this,” he said.
The lack of detail gave away more than he probably meant it to.
“Now, can I ask you something?” Erik asked while you contemplated various horrifying scenarios. “I just… you all seem to know me, and something about you… you especially seem familiar.”
You smiled. “You’re our friend,” you said simply. “A lot of things happened, and I’m just…” Your voice almost broke, so you cleared your throat. “I’m just glad you’re alive.” And you were, you truly were relieved beyond all description to see Erik alive and mostly in one piece. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see a fearful stranger looking out of the face of your cocky best friend.
You watched him digest the information, your smile never fading or failing. It seemed like he was working up to something, so you let him take his time, going to check on the soup. It needed a bit longer, but you stirred it and added some extra salt. Erik loved salty foods, you remembered.
“...and that’s all?” he finally asked, voice soft in the quiet of the kitchen.
You froze, spoon lifted halfway to your lips for a taste test. It wasn’t quite all, of course, but you didn’t feel right putting anything else onto Erik’s shoulders while he was in such a bad way. You tasted the soup and, yes, it was just about the right amount of salt for Erik’s taste.
After a moment, you collected yourself enough to respond. “That’s all that matters right now,” you said. “Until your memories are back, you should try to take it easy.” You put on your smile again as you turned back to face him. “Try to get a little weight on you; Mum would say a stiff breeze would carry you away.”
Something about the phrase seemed to bother him, or maybe it was the look on your face; you’d never been very good at lying, after all. Erik frowned deeply, staring at you like he was on the verge of saying something.
You turned to the soup again, letting the smile fall away as you watched the broth bubble. “Sylvando once said the two of us had a special bond,” you added without looking back. “Closer than brothers.”
The words tasted like ash in your mouth. Gemma had been like a sister to you, a bright and sunny twin, but whatever the older women in Cobblestone had teased, you’d never felt flutters in your belly when she smiled. When she’d hugged you, your face had never grown hot, you’d never felt the urge to bury your face in her hair. You loved her dearly, of course, but not the way she’d wanted. Gemma was no fool, knew you better than anyone else, and had never pushed. You wished her all the happiness in the world, but you knew it could never have been with you. There were many other young men in the world, many good men who would cherish her as she deserved to be, and whoever she chose would be lucky to have her love.
It was not the same with Erik, though it was similar in that you wished him happiness. Whoever he chose would be lucky to have him, but the thought made you sad, somehow. The thought of Erik smiling at a pretty girl like she was the most precious treasure he’d ever seen put a painful twist in your belly, and you had to shake your head to clear it.
It was at that point that you realized that Erik was saying something. You turned to smile sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry, Erik, I drifted off.”
Erik looked concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Thought I lost you for a minute.”
The way he phrased it brought back a painful memory: standing in the ruins of Cobblestone, having been caught up in a vision of the past and not realizing what shape your beloved hometown was really in. Your hand trembled until you forcibly stilled it.
“Don’t worry,” you said. “Do you mind repeating yourself?”
Erik shrugged, turning the core of his apple over in his hands. “Just thought ‘brothers’ wasn’t the word you’d use, that’s all.”
Eyes wide, smile sliding off your face, you stared at him. Were you really that transparent? Even without his memories, could Erik still read you that well? You couldn’t deny that the idea put a flutter in your belly.
“Oh? Why’s that?” you asked, going back to stir the soup.
Erik let out a noncommittal hum, a sound that indicated deep thought. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I’ve just got this feeling like… it isn’t right, is it?”
“...we were very close,” you said, but nerves bubbled in your stomach. “Sylvando is very perceptive.”
“...but he’s wrong,” Erik frowned, looking puzzled. “You don’t look at me like I’m your brother.”
“Well, we aren’t really brothers,” you said vaguely, “I don’t have any siblings.”
“Hmm.”
“Soup’s done,” you said, grateful for the excuse to change the subject. You moved the pot off the stove and ladled some soup into a pair of bowls. Chicken broth with egg, sweet corn, and bits of carrot, flavored simply with salt and proper pepper: Erik had enjoyed it the last time you’d made it.
Of course, that was the night before Yggdrasil fell.
You placed the bowl in front of him and watched Erik’s eyes go wide.
“This smells delicious,” he said, grabbing his spoon with a familiar eagerness.
You took your own bowl and went back to your own place across from him. Despite your smaller portion, Erik finished his soup before you were even halfway done, having noisily slurped it down. You gestured with a laugh to the pot on the counter, indicating he could have more if he wanted. In the end, you never got any seconds, Erik having finished off every drop. You hardly begrudged him; you hadn’t been hungry, and Erik had been starving for days.
It was worth everything just to see the smile he wore when his belly was finally full.
“Ahh,” Erik sighed contentedly, patting his stomach with one hand as he leaned back in his chair. “Amazing soup, El, best ever.”
You tried not to get your hopes up at the familiar compliment.
“You’ll make someone a good little wife one day,” he went on, eyes closed.
All you could hear for a moment was blood rushing in your ears. You just knew that your face was red. Erik had made jokes in that vein before, but it was usually when others of the group were around to add to the teasing or to defend your honor. Tonight, though, they were alone, and you’d just spent a good deal of time reminding yourself that Erik was off limits until his memories returned.
“...okay, El?” Erik was speaking. By Yggdragon, you needed to stop losing focus like that. “You kind of spaced out on me again.”
“Fine,” you managed. “Bit sleepy.”
Erik’s nose scrunched skeptically. “You seemed like you were miles away,” he said, not quite calling you out, but not letting the subject drop, either.
“Just thinking too much,” you said, letting your eyes slide closed. “We should probably go to bed.”
Erik chuckled, and the sound was so painfully familiar that you could feel your heart clench. “Well, I guess you did make me dinner.”
You stared for a moment, uncomprehending, and then your face went hot. “I, I didn’t—”
Erik gave a half smile. “Just trying to lighten the mood. You keep looking so sad, it’s making my fingers itch.”
“A sparkly piece of glass makes your fingers itch,” you pointed out on autopilot, still blushing like a maiden.
“True enough,” Erik admitted. Then, he seemed to catch himself, looking a bit embarrassed. “Ah, not that I’d take anything from you, Luminary.”
Back to this, it seemed. You sighed, feeling the heat leave your face. “I thought I asked you to call me El,” you said.
“R-right, sorry.”
It was silent in the galley while Erik finished off another slice of bread and two more apples. That done, he stood.
“Bedtime, right?” He gave an exaggerated yawn and stretch. “I’m beat.”
You chuckled, nearly silent, and nodded. The two of you ghosted through the Stallion, back to the crew’s quarters, to the two rooms right beside one another. He was quiet and respectful and not at all himself, not like the glimpses you’d seen of him when he’d finally gotten a bit comfortable in the galley.
“I have a few of your old things,” you said as you reached your rooms. “Let me grab them.” Without waiting for a response—though you were sure you heard a soft “okay”—you went into your quarters and started to go through your pack.
Light armor with good defense and high evasion chance, one of Erik’s favorite knives, a pair of gloves, a well-loved utility belt, and a light helmet later, you stood and turned, only to find Erik standing behind you, looking around at the interior of your room. It was mostly “decorated” with items picked up here and there throughout your journey—like a creepy choker and boxes of special crafting materials you hadn’t found uses for yet—but he seemed nonetheless fascinated, picking up the Rainbough and turning it over in his hands.
“Something about this one feels kind of annoying,” he murmured. “Like it took way too much time to get my hands on it.”
“It did,” you confirmed, offering Erik his equipment. “Here, this should be better than what you’ve got on you right now.”
Erik nodded, shrugging off his shirt in one fluid motion. Memories flooded back: a cocky grin, a wink, a teasing comment—
“El?” Unlike in your memories, Erik’s smile was uncertain, his head tilted in confusion as he folded up his shirt. “Something wrong?”
“No,” you were quick to assure him, ducking your head to hide the pink in your cheeks. “Still tired, I guess.”
Erik hummed, not sounding like he quite believed you. He was still shirtless, damn him. “If you’re sure,” he said, sliding on the light armor you’d handed him. It was a bit easier to breathe once he was properly dressed.
You gave him a thumbs up. “Looking good.”
Erik rubbed the back of his neck with a smile, looking down at the floor. Was it your imagination, or was Erik flustered? If he got any more adorable, you might just keel over.
“Well, I should, um, let you sleep,” Erik stammered, taking a few steps backward, toward the door that connected your room with his.
Despite the pang in your chest, you smiled. “You get some rest too, Erik,” you said.
As soon as Erik stepped out, lingering oddly in the door before he closed it, you sat heavily on your bed. He would be the death of you, one way or another, you were quite sure of that.
—Fin