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I will end you.
Wylan jolted awake, the ghost of his outcry of paralyzing fear still etched upon his open mouth. He wondered, dumbly, and once he was able to make sense of his whereabouts, if he had woken anyone up.
But then he registered the clattering and movements from down the stairs and the general raucous that accompanied the barrel and thought, in a way that was all together too much like Kaz, pain finds it’s home in the barrel. Nobody would have heard his wailing over the sounds of revenge.
The first thing Wylan noticed, after he’d come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t in the mansion, but rather in his cold and dark little corner of the Slat, was that he couldn’t breath. Well, logically, he was breathing because he wasn’t passing out. But it felt like he couldn’t breath. Every breath was coming in too fast and piling up on top of each other. He was terrified; not just of what he’d experienced, but of being alone and panicked. He couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t breath.
How Wylan got to Jesper’s door was beyond him. Maybe Kaz was rubbing off on him and he was made out of more spite and grit than he’d thought. Maybe that was a good thing. Wylan didn’t have time to dwell on it much, though, because what was left of his strength, was used to knock on the door.
Once Wylan knocked, he froze. The gravity of the situation came down on him and saints, he hadn’t thought this through. He’d simply acted and needed and the door opened before Wylan could dart away.
Jesper stood, in all his brightly disheveled glory, and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Well, if it isn’t the merchling come to take me up on my offer. I can’t say I’m—“ Jesper took in the boy’s appearance. His red-rimmed eyes, his splotchy complexion, and his trembling hands. Saints, his entire body was trembling. “Merchling?”
Wylan opened and closed his mouth. He wanted to say a multitude of things ranging from stay with me to hold me, but each phrase seemed more desperate than the next, so Wylan blinked back tears and backed away from Jesper.
“M’sorry,” he mumbled between gasps of air.
“Whoah,” Jesper made to pull Wylan back by his wrist, but he flinched away. Jesper tried to meet Wylan’s eyes, but he kept his head bowed. “Where you going, sunshine?”
“I—“ Wylan choked. Saints, he could hardly string together two words without falling to pieces.
“It’s alright, merchling,” Jesper lowered his voice to a level Wylan had never heard before. His tone was soft and calming and Wylan hadn’t known a voice to sound so comforting and good.
“S’not,” Wylan tried to back away. Stupidly, he backed into the hallway wall and the impact cause him to flinch again.
“Okay, so whatever upset you isn’t alright, but you being here…” Jesper kept space between them as he spoke. He tried to find the words. “You coming to my room is alright.”
“I—I shouldn’t have c—come.”
“It’s fine, Wylan. I mean it.”
“No, it’s not fine,” Wylan put his hands out in front of him as Jesper took a step towards him. “I sh—shouldn’t have come.”
Saints, why was he stuttering. The only time he stuttered was when he had been forced to read aloud for his father. The mere thought sent Wylan spiralling. Stupid, useless, boy. You can’t even speak properly. The words taunted him until Wylan felt his legs give way and maybe he’d said his father’s words out loud because Jesper was there in an instant; arms encircling him while his warm voice contradicted all the things he feared.
“You’re not stupid,” Jesper whispered fiercely. “Irritating, maybe—“ Wylan managed a shallow chuckle. “But you’re not stupid and you’re surly not useless.”
“Jesper, I…” Wylan didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t get enough air in. He couldn’t begin to explain to Jesper that he was wrong and that surly a father would be right.
“Hey…” Jesper crouched down to his level, comforted at least by the fact that Wylan wasn’t pushing him away. “Whoever told you all that shit,” his baritone soothed gently as he slowly put a hand on Wylan’s knee. “It’s not true.”
Wylan wanted to agree. He wanted to so badly, but after hearing nothing but stupid and useless and burden and disgrace for as long as he could remember, it was hard to believe the opposite was in fact true.
“But—“
“No,” Jesper cut him off in a way that wasn’t angry, but rather, firm and strong. Wylan felt Jesper’s hand caressing small comforting circles on his knee. He noticed Jesper taking slow, exaggerated breaths. Breaths he could match. Breaths that were present. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true. There are no buts in this— unless, of course, you count my butt which, to be fair, is magnificent—“ Wylan’s shoulder shook with a wet chuckle. He raised his head and rubbed his hands over his face.
“You don’t understand,” Wylan didn’t mean to sound condescending or hurtful, but the words came out as sharp.
“Then help me to.”
“I…” Wylan tried to blink back tears, but it was no use. They were coming thick and fast, brave face or not.
“Hey merchling, listen to me okay? You know Kaz wouldn’t take on anyone useless, right?” Wylan nodded and sniffled, so Jesper continued. “So Kaz wouldn’t have let you into the Dregs if he didn’t think you were brilliant.”
Wylan contemplated Jesper’s statement. It seemed logical. By all accounts, Kaz didn’t have time for inadequacy. He prized knowledge and productivity and he wouldn’t have let Wylan into the Dregs if he didn’t have use for him.
Wylan didn’t know how to respond. He looked into Jesper’s silver eyes and managed, “Alright.”
“Alright,” Jesper repeated with a grin. “Why don’t you come inside, then? I’m not letting you go back to your so-called room all by yourself in your condition.”
“Are you sure? Because—I just mean—I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“Having you beside me is hardly an imposition, sunshine.”
“You mean that?” Wylan asked, his voice cracking under the pressure of trying not to break down again.
Jesper continued rubbing circles on his knees. “You’re kind of irresistible,” he winked and saints, even in his traumatized state, Wylan blushed.
Jesper took that as his cue to offer Wylan his hand. The merchling stared at it, as if Jesper had grown another head. Wylan jutted his chin out and rolled his shoulders back. No, he would stand on his own. Jesper watched as Wylan exhaled slowly and used the wall to support his body as he stood. Yes, Wylan had been studying Kaz very carefully. Taking mental notes on how to survive. Wylan hadn’t been a good student of words, but he was be the best student of bravery.
“Are you alright?” Jesper kept his hand out in offering.
“Fine,” Wylan swallowed and leaned with his palm against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, because—“ Wylan’s knee gave out a little, causing him to sway. “Easy there, merchling!” Jesper put an arm around his waist. “It’s alright.”
“How…” Wylan tried not to lean into Jesper. “How is this alright? I can’t walk, I can’t—“
“Hey, hey, hey, none of that, alright Sunshine?” Jesper lead the boy into his room. “These things take a lot out of you. I know.”
Wylan blinked up at Jesper as they sat down on the edge of his bed. “You know?”
“I know,” Jesper put a foot of space between them. He didn’t want Wylan to feel boxed in. If Wylan wanted comfort, Jesper would wait for a prompt or for him to come forward.
“You have… these things too?” Wylan didn’t know what to call his attacks. His moments of panic and inability to breath or speak properly.
“Not exactly,” Jesper chewed at his bottom lip. He was never one to speak freely about his life. Nobody in the barrel was. But if anyone deserved honesty and vulnerability, it was Wylan. “I have nightmares, though.”
“You do?”
“And memories,” Jesper paused. “Things I’d like to both remember forever and forget at the same time.”
“I have some of those too,” Wylan whispered and slid an inch closer to Jesper. His breathing had stabilized more and his eyes weren’t quite so unfocussed. Making talking was helping.
“The memories… they’re mostly about my Ma.”
“I’m sorry,” Wylan said, because he knew. Jesper didn’t have to finish his thought. Wylan felt his pain acutely. He had the vaguest happy memories of his mother as well. “Mine died too.”
Jesper’s head whipped in Wylan’s direction. “Hence the nightmare.”
“No,” Wylan kept his eyes trained on Jesper’s. They kept him present. “My nightmare wasn’t about her death.”
“Oh,” Jesper’s heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. Jesper realized he was looking at Wylan. No, not just looking, but really looking. Jesper was used to grazing over people. He was used to surface level affection. He craved a harsh jolt of pleasure and the raw energy of a quick affair, but he avoided actually looking at people. He avoided it, because he feared the inevitable rejection; when the person he was with would finally wake up and realize he was all debt and addiction and clatter. Yes, surface level was much safer.
But keeping himself safe was the furthest thing from his mind in that moment. Looking at Wylan, Jesper took a monumental risk. He allowed himself to truly look at someone and become attached.
“Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” Jesper reached for Wylan's hand where it was bunching up the blanket between them. Wylan wanted, so badly, to explain everything. His breath hitched and Jesper must have registered it, because he slowly swiped his hand away. Wylan grabbed it back.
“M’sorry,” he mumbled, forcing himself to keep looking at Jesper. “It’s not you.”
“Okay,” Jesper offered Wylan a small grin. “I know I’m hard to resist.”
Wylan blushed. “Jesper—I—“
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” Jesper squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to tell me. I understand. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just…”
“I know,” Jesper stroked Wylan’s hand with his thumb. He glanced down at their hands and saints, they fit well together. “You can tell me tomorrow, or next week, or next month, in a year from now. I’ll be here.”
Wylan’s composure crumbled again.
“Saints,” Wylan hiccuped as he allowed Jesper to embrace him fully. “I’m so sorry.”
“None of that, Merchling. No more apologies. You were hurt. Whatever happened, it’s still hurting you and you’re allowed to hurt. I—“ Jesper shifted his body so he could embrace Wylan with more ease. Wylan’s head rested against his chest and the fact that he’d hardly comforted anyone before, didn’t matter. With Wylan it just felt like the right thing to do. “I hope I can shoot whoever did this to you.”
Wylan chuckled wetly. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
There was a pause as Wylan matched his breathing to Jesper’s again. He registered Jesper’s heartbeat, a little fast and rapid, in a way, matching his own.
Jesper felt Wylan’s tears soak his shirt and saints, he wanted to put a thousand bullets into whoever had hurt Wylan. They’d been close to Wylan, whoever it was. Jesper wasn’t good at reading people, but he did know when something was personal. Like when Kaz couldn’t handle touch or when Inej froze when a man looked her way. Jesper could read personal trauma. Whoever had hurt Wylan had been close to him. Maybe a brother or a cousin or his father— Jesper’s train of thought stopped dead. Child abuse. He’d read about it in a university book once. It had been in a book he’d stolen upon Inej’s request. A book about trauma healing. He hadn’t read much, because really, Jesper didn’t have the patience for long-winded university texts, but he’d lingered on a few chapter here and there.
Jesper held Wylan a little tighter. He wouldn’t say anything more on the subject. He wouldn’t ask anymore questions. Wylan didn’t need questioning. He needed comfort.
“You can stay here, if you’d like?” Jesper rubbed soothing circles around Wylan’s back. “I don’t like being alone all that much.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Jesper pulled back a little. “Don’t like giving myself time to think.”
“I understand,” Wylan nodded weakly.
It was a little awkward. Jesper, all limbs and winking, and Wylan, flushed and nervous, as they made themselves comfortable on Jesper’s small bed.
“Can I do anything?” Jesper asked to the ceiling.
Wylan turned to face him. “You’ve already done enough. I feel much better.”
“You do?” Wylan nodded a little and Jesper breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
“Thank you.”
“Th—what?” Jesper raised an eyebrow in the darkness.
“Thank you,” Wylan cracked a little grin. “It’s what people say after someone has been kind.”
“Ah yes, right,” Jesper mumbled awkwardly. He wasn’t used to manners. “Well…you’re welcome, I guess, then.”
Wylan hummed a kind of contented response and shifted onto his side so they were facing each other, but not touching. Jesper smiled and Wylan smiled back and even though Jesper’s mind was still whirring with unanswered questions and a kind of sympathetic pain in his chest, he felt more at ease. He wasn’t alone. He’d found someone. A someone who needed him just as much and he needed them.