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An indescribable feeling had persistently clung to the air, overstaying its welcome by its lifespan.
It had been hanging over the group ever since they recovered from consuming the bitter Tanetane mushrooms. Since they were forced through those gut-wrenching hallucinations. Since they had their long-forgotten or possibly presently-healing wounds torn back open, forced to bear with the acutely stinging pain that followed suit.
The clinging feeling was ineffable. Was awkwardness the right word? Frankly, it didn’t give any justice to the true cacophony of agonizing emotions they’d all been experiencing from both the scorching of emotional scars and forced vulnerability in front of newly met friends.
Lucas was taking it the worst.
Kumatora was already trying to skip the hard part and move on. The events that had transpired were entirely absent from her lips as she cycled through subject after subject, trying to find a topic the group resonated with to absolutely no avail. No one could possibly be in the mood for their typical brand of lighthearted banter after that, but she put in the effort nonetheless.
As for Duster, this song and dance was old hat for him. He'd spent many nights as a child crying himself to sleep, caked in dirt and battered in bruises and scrapes. He would guiltily question Wess’s doctrine and wonder why it had to be this way, why every day he had to train, why every day there was a new thing for him to learn and new ways for him to fail and be reprimanded; things were particularly bad after the incident with his leg. Slowly, though, as time went on, he became just as adept at numbing himself to emotional turmoil as he was with pulling off a reverse kick. This was no different for him.
Lucas really wasn’t ready to face all of his trauma head-on like that, though.
Now, as easy as it would’ve been to jump back into the action and push the swarming medley of screaming voices out of their heads with battle strategies and combat, the sun beginning to crest over the horizon forced their hands. Frankly, they were in no mood to say goodbye to another Magi, and the cave that stood beside Mixolydia’s house was daunting, so it was ultimately decided that the group would set up camp and get some rest.
Lucas wasn’t looking forward to it at all, though.
The last three years had been unforgivingly brutal on Lucas’s psyche. He hadn’t realized what a luxury sleep was until he lost two family members一essentially three, factoring in his dad’s physical and emotional absence. More often than not, Lucas would opt to push through the fatigue and skip sleep altogether, sometimes through strings of days.
Even when Lucas did manage to find sleep, he found no refuge in cozy dreams. He’d often wake up drenched in sweat with salty tears streaming down his face and finding their way on his tongue as he gasped for air, the voices of his mother and brother still swimming in his head. Without his father actively present to discourage his unhealthy behaviors, he was able to cope with the trauma however he pleased, which of course meant doing everything in his power to avoid sleeping.
But now he was with Duster and Kumatora.
Thin and scratchy but conveniently portable sleeping bags were rolled out from Duster’s utility belt in tandem with a fire being built by Kumatora. It had already been decided. There was nothing Lucas could do now.
“Welp, this is us,” Once again, Kumatora attempted to push through the emotional tension as thick as fog. “Sleep tight, everyone,” and for a moment, her voice wavered, betraying the tiniest hint of anxiety, divulging her shared suffering, but only for a moment. And it seemed that the rest of her teammates were too busy with their own mental turmoil to notice, anyway. Or, if they did, nobody mentioned it.
Lucas hesitantly crawled into his sleeping bag, the prickly fabric clinging to his skin in the worst way possible. He swore he was seconds away from breaking out in hives. And yet, his heart began to race as he felt the exhaustion hit all at once. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to surrender to the whims of his subconsciousness. He already knew what was in store for him if he went down that path. Yet, despite his best efforts, Lucas was powerless as he slipped into the realm of unconsciousness.
It was much more vivid than any dream he’d ever experienced. It felt more like he was recalling a missing memory than anything. All he needed was one of his teammates to reference its events to convince him it truly happened. Almost as if he were merely picking up where he’d last left off, the grass was pink, his tongue felt fuzzy, and he was faced with apparitions of his loved ones spitting back his darkest fears at him. He barely felt the presence of Duster or Kumatora, or even Boney. In fact, that’s where the dream differed the most from reality.
During the actual events that transpired, they were all drowning together, and yet they did their best to keep each other afloat. Lucas’s initial encounter with Claus left him a sobbing wreck and the three handled the illusion’s attacks while he recovered. Each encounter with Wess left Duster completely frozen and the other three had to help him snap back to ‘reality’. They all struggled through the pain together, but in the dream, they felt more like set dressing. They followed at Lucas’s side like empty vessels being puppeteered, no acknowledgment towards him at all.
Lucas felt his head throbbing the longer he was there. Every corner he turned, every path he took, every clearing he entered, Claus was there to haunt him with his Cheshire cat toothy grin and sickly sweet voice calling his name. And every time he saw him, his heart split in two.
“Luuu-cas, where’d you go? Did you abandon me again The dragos killed me while you were gone. Did you hear me? You got me killed because you left me.”
Lucas wasn’t even sure the three were behind him anymore. He felt so hopelessly alone. He turned away to run, but Claus was waiting behind him.
“Lucas, have you heard? Everyone’s leaving you behind! You’ll be the missing one now, won’t you? Except you won’t be missed,” Claus’s voice, the voice that Lucas would’ve done anything to hear one more time, echoed all around him, piercing his eardrums to the point that he wished he’d never hear him again. He wished he’d never see Claus ever again.
And then he realized what he was thinking and felt disgusted with himself.
It was suffocating. Lucas couldn’t take it anymore. He was enveloped in laughter and headaches and screaming and crying and pulsing colors and distorted faces all around him. A wave of darkness began to consume him, and suddenly he was sitting up in his sleeping bag, clutching his chest and gasping for air. But the nightmare still followed him, dreadful thoughts swirling around his brain.
He was a terrible person, wasn’t he?
He stood by and did nothing as his town was mutilated into a grotesque masquerade of happiness. He’s been abusing living creatures. He has terrifying abilities. He can desecrate entire packs of chimeras with the power of his mind. Imagine the devastation he can bring to his loved ones if he’s not careful. What if he’s not a hero? What if he brings about the end of the world? What if he kills everyone else he knows and loves?
It should’ve been him.
God, why wasn’t it him? He could hear Claus’s voice, clear as day, echoing the same sentiment. “Lucas. Lucas. Let's switch places. You're more, you're more, you're more,” You’re more weak, you're more useless, you’re more of a burden, you’re more disposable. Nobody would cry if you were the one gone.
Your dad would still be around if you were the one gone.
He hadn’t even noticed the sobs that were escaping his lips as his breaths became shallow and ragged, the time in between each one continuing to reduce. Drowned, warbled voices hummed out behind Lucas's snowballing thoughts, barely noticeable until they were paired with a warm touch.
Lucas snapped back to reality to meet two incredibly concerned faces, both warped like a funhouse mirror through the lens of his thick tears, and felt the soft fur of Boney curling up beside him.
“Lucas, can you hear me?” Duster. It was Duster speaking, Lucas acknowledged.
This was entirely foreign territory for Duster. The only thing Wess ever taught him was overexertion and self-loathing. He never learned how to comfort. Yet, he watched himself finding the words nonetheless; the gentle words he desperately wished he would hear someday.
“Lucas, I want you to take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out,” Duster softly asked. Lucas felt himself break down at the request, his breaths increasing rapidly, but Duster gently placed a hand on his shoulders to ground him back to reality. His hand was rough and heavily scarred, but it was real, and it managed to keep Lucas present. “Look at me. In,” Duster began to breathe in to demonstrate. “And out,” he showed.
Lucas finally surrendered, matching Duster’s breathing.
In. And out. In. And out.
He felt the fog clear, the voices quieting down to a dull roar.
Lucas practically threw himself at Duster, clinging to him like he was his lifeline.
“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay," he assured him.
Duster didn’t know how to talk through problems. I mean, he’d never even opened up about what he faced at the hands of Wess. Comforting came naturally, though. It was easy when it felt like you were taking care of a younger version of yourself.
Kumatora sat beside Duster as he cradled the adolescent who suddenly seemed as small as a baby in his arms, feeling useless. She wanted to do something, anything, but she didn’t know how. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit, but she needed it to be now, for Lucas’s sake.
“…If you want to talk about what you saw back there, we’re here for you, bud,” Kumatora assured him, hesitating before bringing her hand to his back and rubbing small circles into it. She vaguely remembered times when she was very little and Ionia would comfort her like this. While the Magi were generally indifferent when it came to empathy for humans, especially considering how brief their lifespans seemed compared to theirs, Kumatora was a large exception. Not only for Ionia, who was her primary caretaker, not by a long shot. All of the Magi absolutely adored the little human. It was really her who began to push them away and eventually started living on her own. She tried to conceal how much each Magi loss affected her, but she could feel herself slipping.
Lucas didn't respond. Kumatora’s sentiment was sweet and much appreciated, but Lucas wasn’t quite there yet. He was already surrendering a lot of vulnerability. Baby steps. His silence confirmed this for her.
“You must be exhausted. You can fall asleep. We’re right here with you,” Duster promised. Whatever grip Lucas had on consciousness was released at Duster's hushed voice, this time willingly letting the sleep overtake him. Duster felt him go limp in his arms.
For a moment, he and Kumatora’s eyes met.
They were both barely over the cusp of adulthood and under extreme mental anguish themselves, even without the Tanetane mushrooms at play. Now, they were both responsible for this devastated boy's well-being. It was a peculiar feeling. They'd become so detached from their own heartache through consoling Lucas, and it took a concerned glance from the other to ground themselves and realize the gravity of everything that'd just occurred.
No matter, though.
They had to be strong. For Lucas.