Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You need to get a clue, dude.” The ghostly version of Fig says, screwing a finger into her temple, expression alight with the same mischievous jack-o-lantern grin and the same fiery brown eyes, except warped into smugness and disappointment and mockery. She leans down, patronising, ever friendly, ever fun, ever the teenager, and stares, her eyes boring holes into his. “Annoying piece of shit. Following us around, ruining the mood.”

Riz looks around, swallowing, his heart beating against his chest a hundred miles a minute. His brain reminds him, desperately, rationally, that this is all an illusion, that it’s not even possible for any of them to be here because he was so damn careful, because he made sure, because he checked , because he is a good detective , and yet he feels his heart crack in two, splinter and wedge its shards deep into his hollow chest. Because he obviously fucking screwed it up, ruined everything yet again, made it all weird for no damn reason, because he’s dumb , because he’s shitty and because they’ve realised it.

The translucent Gorgug beside him rubs his other arm, looking pointedly down at the floor, gnawing at his lip, and he opens his mouth to speak. His voice is still quiet and nervous and distinctly likeable, still has that kind, calm beat to it. “Yeah man. It’s, uh, kinda weird.” He says, into his hoodie collar, his hair (that familiar white streak) obscuring his eyes. “Just a heads up.”

He backs away, the lump in his throat blocking up the words that are so desperate to tumble out of his mouth, to explain , to rationalise , to cling onto everything he’s worked so hard to build. He is not weak, he is not incompetent, he’s just-

Kristen, her tie dye shirt swirling rapidly, her freckles burning and harsh and her hair alight with electricity and enthusiasm, her eyes swirling in turn, their colour indistinct and yet so, so bright, makes a move to punch him in the arm, friendly. “Yeah, man. You’ll get it next time! Just- find some other friends, kay?” She flashes him a winning smile, all teeth and sparkle, and Riz finds himself dodging her, for some goddamn reason (his mind still screams at him to dodge them with all he has, and he knows he knows why, he just can’t think of it right now).

“Guys, this is all a misunderstanding- ” He burbles, holding out his hands, still stepping backwards, backwards, backwards, until he almost bumps into Adaine.

Adaine, stylish and quiet and calm and stern and meaningful and nervous and the voice of Reason and his friend before all else, the Oracle, the light, grimaces. Her eyes are unseen, obscured by her glasses, which reflect bright blues and pinks and whites and yellows. Bright, bright, ever bright, ever guiding. She has a staff, woody fibres winding up into something ornate, something that fits her, something she must be so proud of, he thinks, distantly. She holds it defensively, digging it into the spongy earth below them, and Riz finds himself hoping she is the one to stop it all.

She doesn’t. She watches, deliberates, and sighs. “Back off.” She says, simply, as if that’s the only thing she needs to do, and his heart sinks into his chest, falls down that bottomless pit that’s been a part of him all along, that he’s been sucking them into, that’s the worst part of himself. He doesn’t know where to go, he’s surrounded, he’s afraid, he’s a bad fucking detective, and the worst part is he never knew all this time.

The ghosts, the Bad Kids, them , deliberate for a moment, before stepping aside, their faces growing solemn. And suddenly, surrounded by light, letterman jacket brash and bold and so completely familiar Riz has to suck in a breath, is Fabian. He’s still got that charm, those dancing eyes, the ones accompanied by firelight and parties and elation, that flashy, bold, beam. He’s so familiar, he’s himself , and Riz finds himself rooted to the spot, rooted to the earth. He feels so insignificant, so completely boring, so stupid for daring to even look at him.

Fabian looks around, annoyed, clearly, his eyes narrowed and his dimples gone, before settling his gaze on Riz (so small, so insignificant, so clearly boring and weird and intense and annoying in comparison). 

“Oh, this kid? Christ.” He says, under his breath, and the gang laughs, laughs and laughs, apart from Gorgug and Adaine who just look stern and shy and even a little amused themselves, because who wouldn’t laugh at the sight of Riz Gukgak, disappointment, nerd, kid who hands out fucking business cards on the first day of school, kid who can’t even solve one case without the people who clearly and resolutely hate him. 

And Fabian reaches out, to touch him on the shoulder, to send him on his way, to give him the obvious clue he’s been missing all along.

The last thing Riz remembers feeling is like an idiot , before he hears the shouting and the slicing and blacks out.

---

“Holy shit.” Jawbone says, and Riz finds himself blinking awake.

“Bro, are you okay? ” Fig yells, immediately, jumping to lean over him, her bass on her back blocking out the warm lighting of Jawbone’s place. He winces at the sound, before curling into a little less of a “my body was slumped here for about an hour, unconscious” position.

“Fine.” He says, weakly, trying to enforce as much coffee pep he can possibly muster in there. He’ll just recuperate, he’ll just make his way out, he’ll just try not to be a bother, he’ll just let them be, if he can only get his limbs to work.

“Dude, I was about to cast revivify.” Kristen informs him, her bright green eyes looking weirdly relieved, her slack ponytail falling forward out of her face. “So glad you’re good.”

“Thanks.” He says back, willing his voice not to shake, before finally managing to prop himself up on his elbows. “I’ll just be-”

Gorgug offers him a shy smile, and Riz’ perception must be shit because it looks genuine to him, but that must just be the lighting, the shadows, everything warping it. He tucks a lock of his perpetually hanging bangs behind his ears and gives him a shaky, nervy thumbs up, and Riz feels honestly a little patronised. They don’t need to soften the blow just cause he got hurt , it was his own fault anyways, it’s fine-

Adaine pushes everyone aside, in a remarkable feat of confidence and strength, and helps him so he’s leaning against the couch. “Riz! That was incredibly dangerous and stupid!” She says, firmly, while patting him down for injuries and generally fussing over him an unnecessary amount. “If you do that again, they’ll be a prophecy for your destruction , got it?”

Riz feels stupid again. They’re coddling him, they’re waiting for him to cool down, and it feels just like when his Dad died and everyone at school suddenly wanted to be his best friend, and tried not to look annoyed whenever he didn’t kick the ball in the net right or was too gloomy to properly have fun with. It hurts when you’re rejected, it hurts even more when you’re rejected and they pity you for it.

Jawbone is off somewhere in the kitchen, murmuring into a phone, and Kristen is away from the circle, discussing things in a hushed, overly gooey voice with Tracker, and Riz, somewhat frustratingly, feels warm , and feels like everything is good , when it is in fact not, and when these people he likes so much absolutely fucking despise him.

And, before he can get up and dust himself off, before he can make his excuses and apologies and get home and not cry, not at all , he hears a weirdly gentle voice speaking to him.

“The Ball?” The voice asks, haltingly, and Riz, despite himself, cranes to look.

Fabian arrives in the doorway, and he looks worried, and Riz can’t for the life of himself figure out why.

“Jesus.” Fabian says, softly, kindly without any right to be, and treads over as if unsure of his footing. “Are, um…” He pauses, grasping for words, growing tongue tied like he does so often, and Riz feels an annoying rush of fondness and familiarity in his chest. “Are you quite alright?” He asks, finally, wincing. “Sorry, dumb- dumb question-”

“Err, no, it’s okay.” Riz says, looking at him, and marvelling, and hating himself for it, his throat dry and his voice cracking a little bit. “I’ve gotta be- I’ve gotta be making my leave now.” He says, propping himself up with the couch, and finally getting himself into an approximation of standing. 

“Kiddo?” Jawbone says incredulously, suddenly noticing, running over with the phone in the crook of his neck. “What’re you doing? Sit back down!” He pushes him, not roughly, but firmly, into a sitting position, and brings the phone back up to his ear. “No, Sklonda, it’s alright, he’s practically back to normal already-” He wanders off again, chuckling occasionally.

They called his Mom? Riz knows what his next and final case will be: how to disappear for fucking ever .

He glances over to Fabian, off-handedly, and is surprised to see how truly stricken he looks, how his hands reach out before withdrawing himself quickly, and he wishes everyone would be mean again, because it was so much easier before-

“The Ball, have I upset you?” Fabian asks, far too softly, with misty eyes.

“Of course not!” Riz says quickly, clarifying, waiting miserably in his chair. The rest of the Bad Kids are watching now, having seen his pathetic little attempt at making a graceful exit, Riz distantly registers, and somehow he can’t bring himself to care, not while Fabian is looking at him with those eyes . “I just- I just figured that you’d want me to go. For it not to be, uh, awkward.”

“Why would I-” Fabian starts, eyebrow wrinkling in confusion, before realisation hits him. Riz feels oddly proud for knowing exactly what that looks like on his face, and then promptly feels ashamed for even looking , Jesus , what is wrong with him-

“The Ball, what exactly happened in the forest?” He asks, seriously, staring at him with those grey eyes.

“Uh- why’re you-” He squints, taking in the set of his mouth into a thin line, the arch of his eyebrows, the dimples gone on his face. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just tell me.” Fabian says, and Riz clenches his fists, resolving himself, trying to be useful for once.

“Uh, well you were all there, and you told me about… uh… the thing…” He mutters, vaguely, trying to swallow his shame and embarrassment and sheer confusion about it all, waving his hand as an attempt to pass for nonchalance.

“What thing? ” Fabian presses, leaning forward, and Riz looks down, sighing.

“Man, I get that you don’t wanna be friends, but I feel like this is uncalled for.” Riz says, trying to feel angry at this, trying to feel justified rage and indignation but coming up short at his flushed cheeks and the way he wants Jawbone’s musty carpet to swallow him whole right now.

“I think I’ve figured out what happened here.” Adaine interrupts, eyes present and steely, her hand firmly on Riz’ shoulder. The group looks to her for an explanation, and she lowers her voice to as quiet as it can possibly go before a whisper. “He failed his wisdom saving throw.”

Fig, surprisingly, makes a grunt of recognition. Her eyebrows are scrunched together in a strangely serious way, odd on her face, indignant and filled with righteous fury. “Oh, fuck.” She mutters, darkly.

Riz turns, throwing a thumb back into the direction of the door, trying hard not to look sweaty and awkward and terrible and nervous and everything he always is. “I’ll- this is clearly a private thing-”

Kristen groans, suddenly, and rushes forward. “C’mere, you goober.”

And before Riz can do anything, or move, or even try to roll Stealth, she sweeps him up in a hug. He stiffens, before melting into her grip, and the rest of them, surprisingly, amazingly, follow suit.

“Riz.” Adaine says, exasperated, as if it’s obvious. “You’re wanted .”

“You really are.” Fabian mutters, afterwards, almost to himself, and before Riz can process that , he just lets himself relax, just lets himself be wanted and hugged and loved, and just lets himself be a friend before a party member.