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He hadn’t realised it before but he never experienced true darkness.
His first home was the sea that existed in the in-between. It was an expanse of silver, of wisps of grey and white, of technicolour pools, of petrified creatures and forgotten gods, of ancient cities that fell into the void, of the silent emptiness that was so commonplace.
But it was never truly dark.
The light within him had dimmed a touch when his brother fell, when She continued to follow his every footstep - a deal made, a fate sealed, but it was never truly extinguished, some form of hope or stubbornness keeping it lit. The flame kept bending when his father was nearby, flickering when his brothers cared to taunt him but preserving through everything, albeit smaller than where it had initially begun.
But he never truly fell into true darkness, never fearing the night.
In a way, as soon as he stepped into Strixhaven that internal flame burst into a raging, uncontrolled inferno, burning brighter than ever with every person met, friendship made, a burst of cold wind not enough to cool its fire, bitter words and bitter truths not enough to douse the warmth quickly laid aside for the memory of a sunrise just moments later.
He never had to experience darkness in the physical manner there either, the night skies never fully dark, the twinkling stars and the moons above a soft ever-glowing presence over the people below, rooms always dimly lit by candlelight or lantern flame, magic sparks and the sound of conversation.
Rolo thought he had seen colour before, in the familiar emptiness of home, the colour of liquid pools, his brothers eyes, his clothes, his blade and then he found blue could be bewitching and his perception of colour shifted by an inch, the darkness never truly one-toned but a gradient of all the hues he was able to re-learn.
Soon enough even the evenings with no visible light were illuminated with the sound of hushed laughter, of whispered confessions between close friends, of melodies that would never echo quite as sweet as when she sung them under the cover of blankets.
Each day made radiant by the mere touch of hands, of a not-quite-courtship dancing around each other unsure and uncertain of just how to approach it but with certainty there would be time enough to settle into it gradually.
No urgency in pushing for something more when every day was a touch closer, shared looks as they learned more about each other, both tentatively certain that they knew exactly how this might end, waiting and yearning for when it would come true.
★゜*。。*゜☆゜*。。*゜★゜*。。*゜☆
“Cultivarium?” He nods, a grin on his face as she rolls over on his bed, rampant curls falling from her face, a matching smile on her face albeit upside down. “Who’s going?”
“Just first years, it’s a group trip, I know Elle’s already signed up, but I’ve-” Rolo pauses a touch embarrassed and only continues when she pokes him, a raised brow to get him to continue though it’s easy enough for him to pick up on her slight nerves, the hesitation in the movement, how featherlight the touch was. “I put our names down, as ‘Maybes’? So we could have a spot, if you wanted to go?”
Wonder’s smile brightens, a nod of her head followed by a slight groan, the movement far too sudden in that particular position and she rolls back on her stomach, pointedly ignoring the slight shuffle of paper, her homework inevitably crumpled. “Of course I do!” It works well enough for reassurance, her sincerity threaded through each word. “End of the week?” She doesn’t really need an answer, Rolo handing her the leaflet and the tiefling is quick to look through it, a hum under her breath. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll let the Professor know then,” There’s a touch of relief in his voice that Wonder knows too well, but she doesn’t look up, her humming a little louder in acknowledgement but otherwise letting the matter rest. “Did you figure out what you wanted to do your essay on?”
★゜*。。*゜☆゜*。。*゜★゜*。。*゜☆
Red.
It is, was, would’ve been his favourite colour.
It had been, for a while until the colour soaked the fabric of his shirt, taking all the colour away from her face and he could barely tell what’s going on as his fingers held her up, the warmth fading with each second underneath his touch and there was no-one, nothing that could help.
He signed her up for this.
She smiles anyway, weak and weary and the grin hard to keep on her face.
“Hey, hey, no need to cry,” Sweet and reassuring Wonder, wanting to comfort him when the fear in her eyes was clearer than anything else. “It’ll be alright.” Was she saying it for him or did she think if she said it, it would come true? Did she find some form of solace in it? “I-” Her voice fades a touch as her fingers tighten into his forearm, nails digging in as she breathes out a hiss in pain.
Wonder whispers something else and he looks back to her, but her voice is just as quiet as her pulse, words muffled by the sound of her shallow breathing, eyes fluttering shut and unable to quite stay open. Rolo works to untangle her grasp on him, placing his cloak underneath her head, the vague sounds of on-going battle the only background noise as she turns to him confused.
There’s a wheeze of air, barely there movement of her neck, hair sticking to her face in a mixture of sweat and red and all he can really feel is red as his hand reaches for his blade.
“I’ll be back soon and we’ll get you home.” He stands up, a grimace of his lips in what could’ve been a smile if he wasn’t so- “I’ll get you home.” It’s manic, almost, hastened by the uncertainty that he would be able to keep the promise. “I won’t cry so just stay awake,” He feels the wind brush against his leg as he tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. “Don’t fall asleep Wonder, you hear me? Keep your eyes open.”
He wouldn’t let her die, couldn’t let her die.
She wouldn’t fall like Diego, not if he could help it.
“I’ll be back soon.”
There’s another whisper behind him as he turns away, that same touch from the breeze that picked up in the course of it all that he disregards. Instead, he runs forward with his sword in hand, revenge and urgency in each strike, the movement echoed by the rest of the party.
It wasn’t until later, that he figured out that the whisper was a plea, when the creature fell and they finally returned and her body was cold. Her face tear stained and the smile gone, the last expression gracing her face pure fear.
It wasn’t until later, when he was taken to the infirmary with the other four, that he realised it wasn’t air but a brush of fingers, leather stained red where she tried to catch hold of him.
She died that day and something died with her.
★゜*。。*゜☆゜*。。*゜★゜*。。*゜☆
“I’ll be alright.”
A lie, but the dean let him leave, the need for rest after the events that passed more pressing than asking questions. The knowing look they sent him told him enough that this wouldn’t be left alone for long, the apology they left him with leaving him hollow when all he could feel was hate.
For the faculty who didn’t save her, for the creature that took her life, for her inability to stay awake long enough, for the others for not keeping her there. Hatred for everything and everyone and for him.
For him most of all.
Rolo steps into his room and barely registers anything as he slides into the bed, the door locking automatically behind him, the room dark and the bed cold, everything in shades of grey and black, not a touch of colour to be seen.
‘I can't wait to see where this dance takes us-’ He could almost remember it like it was just a second ago, her hand in his, the music a soft accompaniment to something between two dancers, a moment shared, that never quite fully passed, always lingering between them.
‘Thank you for coming, for bringing me up here…’ How she had looked, bathed in the warm golds of the rising sun, gentle and delightful and ethereal in every way. They had been friends, could’ve been friends for longer and one day they could’ve-
‘It seems we have matched-’ And he couldn’t help but think if it was a coincidence or something else entirely, his own heart fluttering in that naive way as he excused a comment for a tease, his tongue too tied up to say anything remotely close to what he thinking at the time.
So many memories crowding his mind, too loud to fall asleep, echoes of colours filling the darkened room like she once had with her sheer presence alone and all fading to that one word she asked of him.
The request that fell on deaf ears, his mind too cloudy to listen when all he craved was vengeance and held that twisted sense that if they finished it quick enough she’d be able to say goodbye to them all later, that she might have not needed to say goodbye.
If he was fast enough and left her-
So he didn’t listen, didn’t pay attention and now as he turns to his side and watches the wall, the darkness morphs into a faded shadow of her on the ground, the blood soaking through everything, his cloak there but also there no longer, not anymore, wrapped around her like a blanket as if it could hide-
He hadn’t listened and now he watches as the darkness engulfs him until he can only see those vague imprints of a memory, a mistake. A final plea that he hadn’t heeded too wrapped up in himself to pay attention to her, slurred words and grasping fingers the only sensation as he lays in bed unable to move, the echo of that parting word the only thing that would linger.
‘Stay’.
She died alone.