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The Brave Bard Plays Alone

Summary:

Bo has a nightmare and Ravi makes him some stew and doesn't answer his questions.

Notes:

I wrote this fic for my friend's comic series The Boy I Didn't Know. It's a wonderful comic full of magic and amazing visuals. Please check it out.

Tapas: https://tapas.io/episode/1660249

Webtoon: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/the-boy-i-didnt-know/list?title_no=249784&page=1

Work Text:

Thump!

He hit the ground with a hard thud, his left ear colliding with the thick sheet of ice lying beneath his feet. When the wet bit at the tips of his skin, he thought he was a goner, but his full weight collapsed to the ground like a dead leaf and nothing happened.

Lucky.

Pressing the palms of his gloves to the slippery surface, Bo grimaced, wincing at the ringing in his ears. His fingers twitched against the wetness of the ice, lifting to check his wounded ear, rising to his feet in the same motion.

Crack

Bo’s knees locked, immediately freezing in place when the swift crunch of breaking ice reached his ears.

Maybe not

Even though it was far below freezing, sweat greeted his palms, threatening to soak through the thick down of his gloves. The only thing filling Bo’s mind were thoughts of escape, running away, his pursuer completely forgotten. But as his head whipped back and forth, his hair following suit, he realized the only thing surrounding him was a frozen lake.

What the fuck? The forest was just there a minute ago.... And wasn’t I running from something?

Again, he couldn’t remember. I thick cloud of fog swirled around inside his head, shrouding his memories in a thick haze of guilt and confusion.

Whoosh

A strong gust of wind howled around Bo as he hugged his arms to his chest, bracing against the harsh breeze.

Crack

“No,” Bo moaned. His feet moved before his mind could react, the soles of his boots tapped against the surface of the pond as he sprinted across the glassy plane. “No,” he repeated again. “No, no, no!”

CRASH!

A wet, frigid sensation lapped against Bo’s skin as the heel of his boot crashed through the ice, submerging him legs first into the water. He swore, trying to claw his way to the surface as he profusely kicked his legs. To no avail, he wasn’t making any progress.

Bubbles floated up and into his nostrils as water flowed into his lungs, making him cough. His heart hammered against his chest, his mind, save for three words: I’m gonna die.

Bo sunk deeper and deeper into the expanse of emptiness, the frigid abyss was all he knew until, his eyes snapped open.

Panting, Bo whipped his head back and forth. Sturdy, wooden walls were standing on all four sides of his bedroom, the cold scent of winter wafting in from the unsealed cracks in the old house. He inhaled, deeply, running his hands through his dark hair as he did.

He slapped his right palm to his forehead, feeling the sweat seep into his skin. It felt damp and sticky. Bo winced as he slowly sat up, grimacing at the throbbing in his temples. He could barely remember the night before, but the dream he’d just had was fresh in his mind.

Holding his palms out in front of himself, he glared at them, trying to will his body to stop trembling and the room to stop spinning. But it didn’t work. He wrapped his arms around himself, bringing his knees up to rest his forearms against them so he could hide his face.

Groaning, he slipped off his bed and into dry, clean clothes, taking one last look out the frosted window of his loft before heading downstairs. Ravi had been gone for a few days — but that was nothing new — and Bo didn’t expect him to be back so soon, but he caught the scent of something cooking.

Bo’s nose twitched at the fresh scent of vegetables simmering on the stove. The old stairs to the loft creaked as Bo descended, his eyes darting back and forth as the view of the kitchen became clearer.

There was a pot on the stove, just as he suspected. He leaned over it, taking in the wonderful scent of vegetables in the freshly made stew. Pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, he turned away from the woodstove, his eyes flickering between the door and the empty couch.

There was a brown jacket laying across it — Bo’s jacket. It’d been hanging there for days while he was lying in bed with a fever. Cupping his palm to his forehead, Bo grimaced. Not a great way to check someone’s temperature, but he didn’t have a thermometer on him at the moment.

“Still warm?” a teasing, yet charming voice called as the door was tapped open with the toe of the stranger’s boot. In the black-haired boy’s arms was a large basket of wood for the fireplace.

Bo’s eyes widened, glistening with tears as they did every time Ravi returned from one of his “trips” as Bo dubbed them. He’d thought he’d gotten used to his vanishing acts by now, but Bo still found himself wiping the tears away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“R-Ravi?” Bo croaked, trying to conceal the trembling in his voice. “You’re back already?” He wiped a bare finger beneath his bottom eyelids one last time before blinking.

Ravi smiled kicking off his boots and setting the basket next to the fireplace. “I got back early this morning, but you were still sleeping.” He slipped the gloves off his hands and into the pockets of his coat, discarding the jacket on the closest armrest.

Bringing a quivering finger to his lips, Bo ran it across his chin. “I... was drowning,” his eyes rose to meet Ravi’s, “and you saved me....” He pointed the same finger at his roommate.

Ravi’s expression softened as he straightened his boots by the door, officially entering the house and stepping closer to Bo. He hummed, placing a hand onto Bo’s shoulder and leaning his weight against him, sniffing the air. “The stew smells great.”

Bo flinched at Ravi’s touch, instinctively grasping his wrist to see that he was, in fact, real. Ravi’s head shifted slightly, meeting Bo’s dazed expression. His smile disappeared and he heaved a small sigh.

“You were dreaming, again, sunshine,” he said, releasing Bo’s shoulder and walking off to the counter. He pulled out one of the drawers and rummaged through it. His hands appeared a few seconds later, holding two spoons. “Spoon?”

His jaw dropped, too stunned by Ravi’s nonchalance to speak. “Spoon?” Ravi pointed to the pot. “Oh, for the stew....” Bo ran his fingers through his hair, again, taking the spoon with his free hand. “Thank— wait a minute — are you gonna give me an explanation or not?”

“An explanation to what?” Ravi asked innocently, spooning globs of stew into two bowls he’d grabbed from the cupboards.

Bo gestured around the room. “I was drowning in a lake one minute and now I’m home!”

“Are you still droning about that?” Ravi chuckled, gesturing for Bo to come over to the counter to take his bowl. “It was a dream,” he repeated, putting emphasis on the word dream. He met Bo’s gaze, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Another low hum escaped between his lips as he dipped his spoon into his bowl. “You sound delirious.”

They’d both moved to the small table placed in the centre of the room. Bo tipped his spoon into his bowl, blinking at Ravi. “I am not,” he answered pointedly.

A smile pressed against Ravi’s lips, overshadowing his concern. “You keep telling yourself that and I’ll go find the thermometer.”

Huffing, Bo shakily rose to his feet, grunting out a harsh, “No need. I’m fine.” But gravity was taking its toll on him and he was forced back into his seat, grimacing in pain.

Ravi chuckled in amusement. “Nice try, buttercup.” Ravi got up from his seat. As Ravi shuffled around in a separate drawer in the kitchen, Bo remained where he was, glaring at his roommate.

“So, you’re not going to tell me anything?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I can’t,” Ravi answered vaguely, coming up empty handed. As he stepped around the kitchen counter and made his way back to the table in the centre of the room, his ears pricked to the soft sound of music filling in the air. “Do you want to dance?”

Bo’s ears would have flicked back and forth if they could, straining to catch wind of what Ravi could hear but he couldn’t. “The music? Again? I can’t hear it,” Bo said forcefully.”

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” The next thing Bo knew, Ravi was pulling him in close to him with his left hand on Bo’s waist. “Even if you can’t hear the music you should dance anyway.”

For the first time in years, a smile cracked Bo’s lips.