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Gus walked down the empty, hollow halls of the Owl House, gripping his shoulders with shaking hands and squeezing them nervously. It seemed so quiet, so dark, so dead, and it was haunting. Eerie. Nothing like how it had been before - filled with light, bubbling with family, bursting with life.
But now . . .
Gus was tempted to light the area around him with an illusion, if only for some small semblance of comfort, but decided against it; if Luz saw this place as it once was, he had a sinking feeling that she would fall apart completely.
The group had arrived from the Human Realm around an hour ago, and had quickly decided to take shelter at the Owl House. They had picked it because it was a familiar location, but also because it was where Luz clearly wanted to go, and they had all wordlessly decided to do whatever they could to bring a smile back to her face - which had backfired tremendously at the sight of the mangled, graffitied husk of what the Owl House once was.
The dancing, giggling stars outside, paired with the absence of anything living, had sent chills down all of their spines, and they had unanimously decided to hide away somewhere until they came up with a plan or came upon a survivor of the Collector’s reign. Gus had been pacing around the house ever since their arrival; Hunter had gone off somewhere, with Luz wandering away soon after, and Amity had followed her girlfriend while Camila and Willow quietly talked in the common area. Gus was just trying to keep himself from thinking about his dad, or the state of the Isles, or what had happened that night in the graveyard with Belos and Flapjack and Hunter . . .
Speaking of Hunter, as Gus rounded a corner, he spotted the older boy standing rigidly in the middle of the hallway, his shoulders trembling slightly, one hand gripping tightly at his chest, his fingers tapping at the howling wolf he had painstakingly sewn into the fabric. Hunter's other hand was balanced on top of his shoulder, and as Gus watched, he squeezed it gently as if trying to mimic the feeling of Flapjack - trying to replace the comfort that he had found in his palisman’s presence.
Gus walked carefully toward him, wincing as he saw what Hunter was looking at. A dirty, slightly cracked mirror was balanced precariously on the bare walls. It was slightly slanted, as if a coven scout had started taking it down but had forgotten. Hunter’s reflection, broken up by the shards of splintered glass, seemed to stare blankly into the distance; he looked almost eerie, his eyes unseeing as if he were in some kind of trance. Gus held out a hesitant hand but pulled away a second later, straightening and taking a deep breath before speaking.
“Hunter, you okay?” Gus asked softly, cursing inwardly as Hunter flinched away, one hand moving up to tug at his hair. “Sorry,” he continued quickly, holding up his hands in a gentle gesture of surrender and taking a small step back to give his friend some room. “You just looked really - spacey.” Under different circumstances, that could be an allusion to Cosmic Frontier, but right now, neither of them were in any mood to laugh over pointless things like they used to.
“I’m -,” Hunter hesitated, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowing. “I’m fine.”
Gus stepped closer, leaning slightly on Hunter’s shoulder, just as they had done while reading comics or watching nature documentaries together in the Human Realm. He stared at their reflections in the dirty, broken mirror, sighing as Hunter shrugged him away, the older boy turning and scratching at his shaggy, damp hair.
“Hunter, I - I could never understand how you’re feeling right now,” Gus said quietly, fiddling nervously with his hands and tapping Emmiline on her head as she tried to poke her way out of his pocket. Seeing a palisman is the last thing Hunter needs right now. “But you know that I’m here for you, right? I mean - you can talk to me, dude.”
Hunter nodded vaguely and rubbed a hand over his shoulder, exhaling shakily. The two stood in silence for a few moments, Hunter staring down at the ground, his gaze flicking up toward the mirror every few seconds as he pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. Gus bit his lip, wishing that he knew a way to make his friend feel better - but how could you comfort someone when they had been hurt beyond belief? Some days, Gus found himself wondering how Hunter wasn't constantly breaking down; he had been through so much, and now he had lost his first and best friend, and Belos had literally been inside of him and inside of his mind, and -
“Gus?”
Gus gasped, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t breathing. He inhaled sharply, the air burning his lungs, and grounded himself through Hunter's sudden shaking grip on his hand. Emmiline nuzzled softly at his neck, chirping loudly in his ear. Gus squeezed Hunter's hand tightly, reaching up to pet his palisman gratefully. "S-sorry," he eventually managed to choke out, tears welling in his eyes. "Sorry."
“It’s fine!” Hunter assured quickly, reaching up to squeeze Gus’s shoulders. “Titan knows you helped me through stuff like this all the time back in the Human Realm, you - I mean, it’s just that, you’re allowed to . . . y'know, feel stuff,” he mumbled awkwardly, his pointed ears twitching and reddening at their tips.
Gus chuckled, brushing a hand over Emmiline’s shell and sighing. “Yeah," he said thoughtfully, sighing under his breath. "So are you, Hunter,” he added after a moment, bumping the older boy’s shoulder and smiling slightly. Gus noticed Hunter’s gaze lingering on where Emmiline was perched on his shoulder and bit his lip, feeling almost guilty. He turned his gaze to where Hunter had clutched a hand over his chest once more, his closed fist trembling. “You know, it's . . ." Gus trailed off, before lifting his chin and proclaiming boldly, "It’s okay to miss him. Flapjack, I mean.”
Hunter stiffened, huffing out a humorless laugh and averting his gaze. “Yeah.”
“I mean it,” Gus continued firmly, raising his gaze back up to look in the dusty mirror, noticing with a foreboding feeling how Hunter glared at his reflection as if it were a monster - as if he were a monster. “And it’s okay to - to feel horrible about what happened. Not that you should feel horrible,” he amended quickly, “none of what happened was your fault. I just mean that - it was awful, and it’s okay to feel bad about it. You didn’t deserve it. I -,” he swallowed tightly, wringing his hands together. “I hate that bad things happen to good people.”
“Oh, please,” Hunter scoffed in return, his tone edging on hysteria. “I’m hardly a ‘good person.’ I’ve - I’ve sent out orders that have gotten people killed, Gus. If we’re speaking realistically, I’m a murderer. And now, I - I’ve killed someone - and - and not just anyone, but my closest friend, with my own hands.” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the dangling strand that fell over his forehead. Gus shook his head minutely, biting his lip before speaking once more.
“No. Belos is the murderer,” he whispered, unable to bring himself to look into Hunter’s eyes as he continued, afraid of what he might find in their amber depths. “Belos is the only one who should be blamed for what happened to Flapjack, for what happened to you. Everything you did as the Golden Guard was because of him, and everything that happened tonight was, too. And -,” Gus turned his gaze back to the mirror, tapping a hand over Hunter’s as the older boy’s gaze lingered over his scars, his eyes, his hair. Gus pointedly didn't mention how Hunter's chin trembled and his shoulders shook, the small signs betraying his stoic exterior. “And it’s okay to be angry.”
“I - I -,” Hunter exhaled deeply, pulling at his hair. “Titan, I don’t know how to feel. I’m - I don’t think I feel how I'm supposed to feel," he admitted, his voice dropping, his tone sounding almost defeated. "I don’t think I feel . . . anything.”
Gus paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond to that. After a moment, he bumped his shoulder against the older boy’s, smiling gently when Hunter turned to face him. “That’s okay, too.”
They stood there in silence for a while longer, Gus leaning against Hunter's shoulder for comfort as his friend squeezed at his shoulder and his chest, working to get his ragged breathing under control. Gus wondered if it was hypocritical for him to tell Hunter not to blame himself when he was doing the same thing, but dismissed the thought as he rubbed Emmiline's shell anxiously. Hunter drew away after a few minutes, drawing his arms around himself and closing his eyes for a moment as if shielding himself from the haunting mirror behind them.
“I need some time alone,” he mumbled quietly, staring down at the ground and scratching at his shoulder, his breath shuddering. He paused minutely, glancing back at the cracked mirror one last time before pacing a few steps toward the door. He had almost reached it when he hesitated, turning around to look back at Gus. His trembling voice was nearly impossible to hear as he said, “Gus - thank you. You, uh - you can talk to me, too, if you . . . if you ever need to.”
Gus stared after him as he left, alone once more in the empty halls. He wrung his hands together anxiously, and sat down for a moment, pressing his back against the peeling wallpaper and pulling his knees up to his chest. He wished that there was something he could do - not just with Hunter, but with everyone. All five of them were hurting in their own way, and none of them knew how to help each other, but there was an understanding that they were all hurting together.
Dragging himself to his feet, Gus held Emmiline in his hands and walked toward the common area where he knew Camila and Willow were, scrubbing away the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and letting out a shuddering breath, clinging to his palisman with a desperate grip and smiling shakily when she chirped up at him.
He didn't want to be alone.
He didn't want to be hurting.
But he only knew how to achieve the first part, and that would have to be enough for now.