Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The soles of his shoes were falling off. His jeans were frayed at the bottom, the knees were worn and patched. His jacket was in even worse shape than his jeans. He seemed to only have a handful of clothes, he wore the same thing almost every day.

He never complained about the state of his wardrobe, but Lethica could tell it made him sad. She could see this wistful look on his face when he complimented her outfits. Not only that, but he looked cold. They were deep into fall and Lethica doubted his jeans protected from the bite of cold wind very much, they’d been worn paper thin. She also began to think he didn’t own a coat. He had a barn jacket that he wore everyday, which was something, but he still shivered on particularly cold days. Of course, it didn’t help that he was painfully thin.

By the middle of November, Yorgrim ended up giving Jericho his old winter coat that no longer fit. It was quite a few sizes too large for Jericho, but at least he wouldn’t freeze to death. But he should be comfortable, Lethica thought to herself one day, not dying was the bare minimum, he deserves much more than the bare minimum. She felt the overwhelming urge to do something about it. She cringed internally as she thought of a coming of age film makeover montage

“Everything’s so e’spensive here,” Jericho fingered through the racks of clothing

“Do not worry about the prices, I’ll handle it,” Lethica spoke, soft smile clear in her voice, though it wasn’t visible behind her mask, “and we don’t need to buy many things, just a few nice things that will last for a long time,”

“Garsh, are ya really certain ya can pay? I got a little bit saved up from last week’s farmers market,”

“I am sure; I simply want to help. You deserve to be comfortable, and I do not wish for you to catch your death this winter.” Lethica picked up a thick cable-knit sweater, a dark autumnal orange, “How about this?”

“I don’t deserve you, Miss Lethica,” Jericho reached out to feel the material, soft and warm. Lethica’s hand covered the price tag from view. “That feels mighty nice,” he admitted shyly

“I think it would suit you very well,” He blushed.

They ended up leaving with the sweater, a pair of jeans, and a pack of socks. Lethica had managed to distract Jericho while she paid, keeping him from seeing the total and feeling guilty. She really didn’t want him to feel guilty, but she knew that Jericho had yet to figure out that his friends genuinely cared about him, that he was more important to her than a bit of money. Of course she didn’t have endless money to spend, but she could manage perfectly fine without the money she’d just used.

“Thank ya so much, Miss Lethica,” Jericho stared at the bag of clothes as they sat in Jericho’s truck, still parked outside the store, almost as if in awe, “I don’t know how I can repay ya for this,”

“I already told you that you do not have to repay me, it’s a gift,” She wondered if that was a new concept to Jericho, being given something by someone not trying to gain something in return.

He was quiet for several moments, bottom lip trembling slightly.

“Jericho,” Lethica put a hand on his cheek, “I care about you. You know that, right? I’m your friend, and I care for you,”

With that, she could see unshed tears well up in his eyes, “Thank ya, Lethica,” He reached across to the passenger seat and hugged her.

She nearly started crying herself. He’d never initiated physical contact before, and tended up whenever someone touched him. She felt quite proud of him for the progress he was beginning to make. She hugged him as tight as she could manage.

Chapter Text

“Are you alright, Jericho? You’ve been quieter than usual,” Yorgrim heard Lethica from across the table. It was true, their study session had been unusually quiet and productive.

“Oh, gee, I’m fine,”

“You know you can be honest,”

He hesitated, then replied quietly: “I got a letter from my ma.”

“Your mom?” Yorgrim asked as he looked up from his computer, “I thought she passed away?”

“Oh! No, um, she’s been in jail since I was twelve,” Jericho said in almost his usual tone of voice, clearly trying to hide his discomfort.

“Wha’d she do?” Briggsy asked

“Briggsy, I don’t know if that’s appropriate to-“ Marius began, though was cut off promptly by Jericho

“She killed my dad,” Everyone was silent for several moments.

“My God,” Marius placed his hand over his mouth.

“Are you being for real?” Briggsy furrowed his brow.

For that, Farryn smacked him on the back of the head, “Ya don’t have a sympathetic bone in yer body, do ya, boy?” She said quietly

“Don’t know why I’d lie about it,” Jericho fidgeted, “if ya don’t believe me ya can find articles ‘bout it online, I s’pose,”

“I’m so sorry, Jericho,” Lethica spoke, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder.

Jericho rubbed the back of his neck, “I think I’ll go visit my dad tonight,” 

Yorgrim bowed his head, staying silent.

“Jericho, wait,” Yorgrim said, as they were all packing up to leave. The rest of their study session had been very quiet, and he’d been feeling a heavy weight pressing down on him since the conversation earlier, “do you want company? To go visit your father?”

Jericho blinked up at him a few times, almost confused looking, “Gee, are ya offerin’?”

“Yes,”

“Oh, well alright,” a faint smile crossed his face, “I s’pose ya love this sorta thing, bein’ a mortician-in-training and all that,”

“Death brings me no joy, I assure you,”

“Right,”

“I just know that visiting the deceased can be very difficult, I thought you might want a friend,”

“Garsh, that’s mighty kind and thoughtful of ya, Yorgrim,”

They drove about forty five minutes in Jericho's truck in order to get to the cemetery. Jericho made a few uncomfortable jokes and comments during the ride, though for the most part, they were quiet. The two had never been the closest out of the group. 

Upon arriving at the cemetery, Jericho quickly led them to an isolated area, almost hidden from view by bushes.  

“Here ‘e is,” Jericho said, plopping down onto the ground in front of the gravestone. “I never even got the chance to meet him, not really. I was only two when he died,”

Yorgrim sat down next to Jericho, carefully picking off vines and moss that had begun to grow across the stone, “It took ten years for them to arrest her?”

“Didn’ have any hard evidence ‘til they found the body.” Jericho shrugged, “I wish I coulda met him,”

Yorgrim stayed quiet.

Jericho tore his eyes away from the gravestone to look at Yorgrim, “I don’t know what to do, my ma hasn’t written me since- oh, gee, it’s been years,”

Yorgrim opened his mouth to ask what the letter had said, but was promptly cut off by Jericho rambling more.

“I don’t think she ever really loved me like I thought she did. I used to miss her somethin’ fierce, cause I thought ‘she’s the only person in the world who loves ya, Jericho,’ but… She woulda called or written, wouldn’ she? She’s the only person ever showed me any gen-u-ine affection, at the very least,”

“Do you want to write her back?”

“Virgil wouldn’ like that one bit,”

“That isn’t what I asked,”

Jericho sighed, quiet for a moment, then stood, “My aunts are buried over there,” he pointed towards the back of the cemetery, avoiding answering Yorgrim's question, “If you wanna meet them too…”

“I would like that,”

“How did they die?” Yorgrim asked when they reached the second set of graves. The stones were both smaller than the first one had been, though less hidden. They were just as unkempt.

“Cancer,” Jericho pointed to the one on the left, “and a car crash,” he pointed to the other.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,”

“They took me in after my ma got arrested. Virgil was technically already an adult, so he got to stay at the house, but he couldn’ take care o’ me, so I went to stay with them. Wasn' long before I had'a go back to livin' with Virgil. Both were dead before I turned eighteen,” He was visibly uncomfortable and solemn as he spoke. His eyes were trained to the ground.

Yorgrim put a hand on Jericho’s shoulder, “My family has seen quite a bit of death too,”

“Garsh, I’m really sorry, Yorgrim,” He sat down in front of the graves, just as he had done by his father’s.

Yorgrim followed suit, again brushing the foliage away from the stones as he began to speak, “I’m the only one left alive in my family. It was like a curse. There were a few years when I was younger when it felt like there was a funeral every couple months,”

“That’s terrible,” Jericho whispered

“I ended up in foster care for seven years,” Yorgrim continued, “I know how hard it is to lose your caregivers, how lonely, how scary it is." He paused to take a few breaths, "College has been difficult for me, being so far away from all their resting places, not being able to visit them.”

“Which is why ya wanted to come along with me here?”

“I cannot honor my own dead, but it eases the burden to help honor yours,” A silent ‘you aren’t alone’ hung in the air, drifting through the breeze along with the sweet scent of grass and the chill of October evenings.

Chapter Text

“Ya can’t let ‘im keep walkin’ all over ya’,” Briggsy didn’t look at Jericho as he spoke to him. He was too busy eating his dinner- while laying in bed. All of Marius’s complaining never dissuaded him from eating in bed. “Really’ ya let every’ne walk all over ya,”

“Careful, Briggsy,” Marius sighed, “keep talking like that and you won’t be able to keep walking all over him. Here,” Marius pulled a pair of pajama pants out from a bin under his bed, handing them off to Jericho, “try these.”

“Thank ya’ so much, Mr. Marius,” Jericho graciously accepted them.

“I don’ walk all over Jericho,”

Marius said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow to his roommate.

“Wh- not like Virgil!” Briggsy said indignantly, sitting up a bit.

“Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends,” Marius shook his head.

Briggsy laughed, “‘least I’m not as bad ol’ Billy. Poor Yorgrim,”

Yorgrim, like Jericho, had become accustomed to spending some of his nights in Marius and Briggsy’s dorm. No matter how many times Marius tried to convince him to request a room transfer, Yorgrim refused. Neither minded him sleeping in their dorm, but it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to fit three people comfortably.

“Whatever,” Marius said, hint of a smile on his face, “I’m gonna go shower. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone, please,” and with that, Marius left.

“Now, listen ‘ere,” Briggsy started, “yer a total pushover,”

“Garsh, I know,” Jericho fidgeted with his hands, picking at the skin around his fingernails.

“You own that house jus’ as much as Virgil does, s-“

“Actually, even, legally speaking, I don’t,”

“He lives there, ya live there. Ya have a right ta be there,” Briggsy didn’t acknowledge what Jericho had said, “next time ‘e tries to pull some shit and kick you out, you just gotta- WHAM!” Briggsy made the motion of punching someone, the movement making both Jericho jump and Briggsy spill a bit of ramen broth onto his shirt.

“I can’t punch him!” Jericho’s eyes were wide as saucers

“Sure ya can!”

“He’d kill me!”

“Nuh-uh,”

Jericho continued picking at his cuticles, silent for a few moments.

“Why are ya helpin’ me anyways? Ya don’t even like me,”

Sure, maybe they weren’t very close, but Briggsy didn’t actually hate Jericho. He cared about him enough to not want him to suffer. “Er- ya aren’t ‘alf bad. Ya don’t deserve ta be treated like complete garbage,”

“Oh.” Jericho furrowed his brow, apparently thinking this over thoroughly.

“Plus- ‘is the only way I’ll gettcha outta my dorm,” He couldn’t help himself.

Chapter Text

Farryn’s phone rang around 7:30 PM.

“Hello?”

“Um, Ms Farryn? It’s Jericho Sticks,” The voice on the other line was shaky

“Y'know the phone tells me who-“ Farryn shook her head, “Are ya alright?”

“Oh, um, garsh, yeah. I’m fine. I mean, I was just calling because,” Jericho stuttered, “It’s cold outside?” He settled on

“…Yes?” It was true, it was November, and especially at night it was quite chilly out.

Jericho hesitated, then began to speak so fast he was barely comprehensible, “OlVirgilgotrealmadankickedmeoutothehouseforthenightandIaintwannaseemlikeImcomplaininbutitsmightycoldoutandIwasjustwondringifIcouldspemdthenightinyourdorm?”

“Slow down, boy, I can’t hardly hear you. Virgil kicked you out?”

“…He’ll’ve calmed down by mornin’ and let me back in, always does,”

She sighed sadly, “Of course you can stay here tonight. Do you need me to come get you?”

Jericho was silent for several moment, then:

“Ya’ve got better things to do, I’m sure, never mind I called,”

“Don’t be stupid.” Farryn said, “It’s no trouble to me, you’ll freeze sleeping outside. What’s the address?”

—-

It was dark out, so as Farryn pulled up to Jericho’s house she couldn’t see much except what was illuminated by a dim light glistening through grimy windows. The house, though it seemed more like a shack, Farryn decided that it looked quite a bit like a place she’d get murdered in. She’d had to drive quite out of the way of town and into the woods to get to the shack. Though there was a decent sized clearing around the property, for a barn and some currently empty vegetable patches, the tall, gnarled trees still loomed over head ominously. The house was uncared for, the roof discolored with water damage, the paint on the siding was chipped and covered in lichen. Jericho, who had been sitting on the front stoop, bundled in his patched up barn jacket, stood and waved rapidly.

“Heya, Farryn,”

“Are ya alright?” Farryn asked once Jericho got into the car. He was shivering quite a bit, which wasn’t surprising. As he’d already said, it was a cold night, and Jericho was very thin, probably unhealthily so.

“Oh, garsh, are ya worried about me?”

“I think you oughta move out, Jericho,” She said softly as they began driving.

“I can’t do that, Ms Farryn, you know that. I can’t even pay for school with all that fancy financial aid I got, and keepin’ the farm ain’t so profitable anymore. An’ my truck needs the shop again, it’s been breakin’ down near about every week. Plus, Virgil don’t like sharing, so I can’t even afford food most nights. Even if I somehow managed ta scratch up enough money for my own place Virgil would be so mad, he needs me more than he lets on, I think. But I need him too, y’know! I-I don’t know the first thing about-“

“Jericho, calm down a moment,”

“S-sorry,”

“No need,” Farryn started, “I know it’s hard, but Virgil isn’t all ya’ve got, even if he says so. There’s people who’ll help you.”

“I couldn’t ask somethin’ like that from anyone.”

“I’m not suggesting charity. Yorgrim wants to live off campus next year, and you know everyone’s been talking about maybe getting an apartment together, split the price.”

“Virgil wouldn’ let me,”

“Virgil doesn’t own ya.” Farryn said, and Jericho didn’t reply, “Just think about it,”

Jericho began to stay over at people’s dorms much more frequently. He started being more open with them about when his brother kicked him out.

Farryn’s discomfort around Jericho’s shack never decreased. She didn’t go very often, but with the ever-deteriorating condition of his truck, he needed to be picked up every once and awhile. Usually Marius borrowed Briggsy’s car to get him, but Farryn took it upon herself to do when she could. Usually, Jericho sat, playing banjo on the decrepit porch, waiting for her. When she’d pull up, each time Jericho would stand excitedly and wave. One day, he sat on the porch, though played no song. He stayed planted firmly on the rotting wood, no jumping up and excited waving, and kept his head in his hands.

“You alright?” Farryn asked as she stepped out of the car

Jericho looked up, waving unenthusiastically, “Heya, Ms Farryn,” his face was red and splotchy, “I’m jus’ fine,”

Farryn sat next to him, considering what to say next. She didn’t want to embarrass Jericho, though he’d clearly been crying.

“Are ya… sure?”

Jericho nodded, jumping up from where he sat, “Course! Let’s go, Virgil’s real mad, don’t wanna stick around.”

Farryn nodded, and they went to the car. They were both quiet for a bit, aside from Jericho’s slight sniffling.

“Heya, Ms Farryn?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might try.”

“Try what?”

“Moving out. Like you said,”

Farryn smiled, exceedingly proud.

Chapter Text

He’d never heard Virgil shouting so loudly. He was a quiet man, cruel non the less, but quiet. If fact, Marius didn’t think he’d ever heard Virgil raise his voice at all. But, as he helped Jericho pack his things, Virgil’s voice shook the entire house.

“I-I’m leavin’, Virgil,” Jericho had managed to stutter out, “I’m movin’ in with my frien’s,”

Virgil didn’t immediately react with anger, he just stared for a moment, then cawed out a humorless laugh, “You can’t be serious,”

“I am,” Jericho was shaking so much he looked like he was about to collapse, “I’m goin’.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I am, I-“ Jericho was stopped by the deafening sound of flesh hitting flesh. Hard. He stumbled backwards slightly, but caught himself. Before he could react to the slap that had been placed upon his cheek, Virgil struck him again.

“They don’t care about you. He doesn’t care about you,” Virgil grabbed Jericho’s forearms with enough force to turn his fingers white, “you won’t make it a week without me. You need me,”

“I-“

“They’ll never love you like I do. I love you, Jericho, don’t you understand?! I’m all you have!” Virgil shook Jericho back and forth to emphasize each word.

Jericho was blurting out any pleas and apologies he could manage, though they were barely coherent through his upset. His cheek burned red.

Marius hadn’t meant to start a physical fight. He wanted to help people in productive ways, not violent ones. He knew there had been a rage boiling beneath his skin for a long time, waiting to burn free, but he tried to keep it down. Violence would make it worse. The goal had been to pack Jericho’s things, of which he had few, then leave as quickly and quietly as possible. Sure, he, and that damned rage, had desperately wanted to punch Virgil since he first heard about him, but he didn’t intend to actually ever do it. But then, there he was. He had tunnel vision, Virgil’s voice roared in his ears like a hurricane:

“You can’t leave, Jericho. You really think they’re your friends? How stupid are you? Soon they’re realize how much of a pathetic joke you are and they’ll throw you to the curb to die! They don’t love you like I do! I’ve always protected you. I keep you safe, Jericho. I do so much for you, I love you, I practically raised you. Ungrateful f-“

His face had warped into Hers. All Marius could see was Her. It had been ages now, but it was as if he’d been transported back in time. Red lips turned up into a mocking smiled, “I love you, Marius,” her hands clenching his chin, long nails digging into his flesh. He wasn’t afraid, this time. He wouldn’t let Her walk all over him again, he-

Blood began to stream down Virgil’s face from his now twisted nose. Marius was almost shocked to find the older man’s blood on his knuckles.

Jericho was on the floor, long hair obscuring his face from view.

Virgil wiped blood from his mouth, smearing red across his face and hands like a wild beast devouring its prey.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Virgil’s voice had returned to its low, level drawl. He was a good four inches taller than Marius, which felt like far more as he leered down. Marius stood his ground, “You have no power over me.” She has no power over me. He hoped he couldn’t tell how his voice shook slightly.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as he seemingly remembered himself, “Fine,” he turned to Jericho, “go if you want. You’ll be crawling back into my arms, crying by the end of the week,”

He walked away, slamming the door to his bedroom behind himself. For a man so large, sharp, and weathered by life, it was a shockingly childish action. He didn’t seem frightening anymore, he seemed like a tantruming child.

“Jericho? Jericho? Are you alright?” Marius crouched down next to him.

Jericho didn’t respond.

“Jericho?” He placed a hand on his back. That snapped him back to reality, away from wherever his brain had taken him.

“He didn’t hurt ya, did he?” Jericho’s eyes were wide

“No- no, I’m fine. Come on,” Marius grabbed the bags they’d packed, throwing in any last things he saw laying around. “Let’s go,” He extended a hand, helping Jericho up.

“Y’didn’t have to stand up for me like that, he coulda hurtcha,”

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?”

Jericho shrugged.

“You should ice that once we get to the apartment,” Marius said once they’d loaded all the boxes into Jericho’s truck.

“What? Oh, gee,” He touched his cheek, gently kicking the bumper of the truck- which was stuck on with duct tape- to get it back into place. “I s’pose you’re right. That’s why you’re the doctor.”

“Not yet,” Marius reminded, then took a shuddery breath, “here, let me drive,”

He found, sitting behind the wheel of the rattling truck, that for the first time in ages, he almost felt at peace. He hoped Jericho would feel it one day too.