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Somehow, unexpectedly and yet predictably, their entire therapeutic, crafting night had gone to shit. Before they knew it they had put themselves between Orym and Laudna in a protective stance, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened in just two hours - and then Laudna has escaped, Imogen after her. Orym also left the room soon after throwing that damned sword and slamming it against the floor. The room felt thick with a tension that had Ashton’s bones ache even more than usual, a dull pain he could easily identify as the absence of Letters and their stupidly optimistic nature, their calming way of making the rest of them talk through things, even when Ashton would rather hit a wall about it. Everything was going to shit, again, and this time there was no peppy automaton to help them, just the hole they had left in their wake.
Someone has turned off the lights, so now only the faint light of the streetlights washed over the shadows - their heart was pounding too fast to even hope for sleep, so Ashton got up as quietly as possible, gathered their new jacket and then slumped down in the hallway, sitting against a wall, trying not to let themselves feel the pain humming in their chest while softly painting F.C.G’s name on the back of the leather. His brain was on a constant loop of anger, and worry about Laudna, and dread about what was to come, so their defensive response was to find something that would distract them - the same thing he couldn’t get out of his head these days. Fearne.A stupid smile spread on his face involuntarily, one he would deny to anyone seeing it if they weren’t already alone.
There was hurt there too - they knew how much they’d deserve to die for putting her through what he put her through, and that look on her face as he took his first breath back, the thrumming pain in his head after she’d kicked them back into the ground, voice hoarse with anger and panic - these were things he would never manage to let go. He would never manage to let go of her, that was as sure for him as the pain he lived through. But lately he couldn’t explain the way he felt around her anymore, couldn’t find any more excuses of why they couldn’t stop seeking her out, stealing from her just to see that annoyed little smile she’d throw at him, touching her to feel the dull warmth that was always there.
He knew he was fucked when their hands touched and the titanic shard keeping him together woke up - more than the power, more than the feeling of being whole for once, what got into his bloodstream was her expression. Her wondrous eyes, lit like candles, wide as her grin, the feeling of their fingers interlocking. He’d never restrained himself more, not out of anger or anything, than in that moment when he stopped himself from pulling her in and kissing her. He had no idea what love was most days - he’d grown to see his friends as his own kin, something precious to protect. But they would’ve broken mountains apart for her, at her whim, he would've pummeled into the ground anyone who even looked wrong in her direction.
It was fucking terrifying, and it only grew in his chest more and more, like his feelings were almost swallowing him whole. He’d woken up without her warm hands across his chest and for a second it felt worse than the pain of breaking apart into pieces, a panic so pure and visceral he couldn’t deny she was it for him.
After a while, their heart rate slowed down to a reasonable pace - he’d pulled out the bit of blue lace that he’d nicked off Fearne earlier, smiling at it like the idiot he was, and started carefully stitching it to the inside of his right sleeve, letting it poke out just slightly. When the door opened he held his breath, waiting for the sound of her hooves on the wooden boards. Instead, they found Chetney there, in his ridiculous striped pajamas, examining his stitching very carefully. Afraid to look up, Ashton kept working, slow and meticulous. Avoiding the obvious. When the silence stretched for too long, he made himself speak up.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’
‘I actually just had to pee. Old bladder and all that.’ Ashton laughed quietly, bracing himself for whatever nonsense Chetney was about to impart on him. Instead, he was met with a quiet, serious tone that was rare for him.
‘Hey, isn’t that lace from Fearne’s skirt?’
Of course he would notice, the perceptive prick. Ashton nodded, using his mouth to hold the needle. It was no use to try and deny it.
“Now, I know it’s none of my business Ashton, and all that. I also know we have other things that need resolving right now - but”
Ashton looks up again, hands trembling under the material of his jacket. He finds that Chetney’s expression is grave, for once showing his wiser age. So they figure whatever comes next can’t be something Ashton is ready to hear, but that they should anyway.
“ We both know we’re all on borrowed time. One of us - Letters is already gone. Who knows who might be next. So nothing is guaranteed. And I think it would be awful if one of you died before you told her how you feel, Ash.”
Ashton almost wants to laugh again - as if that wasn’t the last thought they had before sleeping every night. As if Fearne didn’t consume his every waking moment already, balancing on the ledge of getting his heart torn to pieces when she would inevitably reject him and also risking death again without her knowing what she means to them. But that was only his burden to carry.
“What makes you think I have anything to tell, old man?”
It was meant to come out sarcastic, but it ended up sounding sad, and quiet. Pathetic, even, and maybe that’s why Chetney raised his eyebrows at him, an upturn to the corners of his mouth.
“As stone cold as you are with most people Ash, and I mean that literally, you haven’t seen yourself when you look at her. It’s like you can’t believe she’s real. Stuff like that should be said out loud, no matter what.”
Ashton almost rolled his eyes as Chetney began walking away, towards the stairs - before he could hear him mumble under his breath.
“ Besides, everyone wants their crush to be the first ones to say something”
As quick as a flash, Ashton reached out and grabbed the gnome’s wrist, as gingerly as possible - they could feel their pulse thrumming in their chest, his eyes wide with disbelief. When Chetney turned his head back, his expression was that of a kid caught just as they were breaking something.
“W-what?”
Ashton let go of their wrist, but kept their eyes on his friend. It made zero sense in his head, what Chetney was implying. No one could logically look at them like that- like the object of one’s affection. They had resigned with the idea that he’d get to watch Fearne from afar for as long as she’d let them, that they’d protect her when they could, hold her when she would allow it. But nothing more.
“Nothing, nothing, I just- I remembered I have something to do.Night!”
The gnome was gone before they could protest, their little steps echoing in the hallway. They stood there for a few moments, head in their hands, trying to make sense of it. He could remember Chetney running after Fearne that day in Whitestone. How mad Chetney was after, urging him to leave. That little shy smile she gave him before laying down the other night, opening her arms for him. His head was spinning - so he was startled when he heard the door open again.
They could feel it was Fearne before she even said anything. Something in him reacted to her presence, that warmth that spread in his chest when her attention focused on him. He felt drunk with it, with the possibility of their fingers touching. But now Chetney’s words were ringing in his ears, over and over, and the thought of what they had to fight tomorrow felt like an imminent wave waiting to drown him. Ashton did not do feelings, couldn’t stand having to express his emotion beyond the grip of his hammer.And yet.
As Fearne sat down next to him on the floor, he was certain she could hear his traitorous heart pounding louder than it ever had. She smelled like lavender and other fae flowers he’d recognised from her home. When he turned his head to look at her, her seafoam curls looked tousled from sleep, eyes heavy and wide. Like the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed in his fucking life, like something he did not deserve. Her expression was wary, scanning them up and down, biting her lower lip expectantly. He couldn’t help flickering his eyes to it, desperate to know what it would feel to kiss her. They almost didn’t register what she said at first, too enraptured with it.
“I thought I heard your voice out here. Everything ok?”
He let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes to shield his senses from how much of a distraction she was.
“As ok as it could be - I actually wanted to talk. With you, I mean.”
Her face sharpened, from a soft sleepiness to concern.
”What about?”
He cursed himself for ever bringing her to this point, for making her worry. But it was too late to stop now, so he continued stumbling.
“ I know everything is messed up right now and - I don’t want to make it worse. Someone reminded me that we’re on borrowed time. And if something happens and I join F.C.G soon, this time not because I’m a fucking idiot, but because that’s the way it has to be - Fearne, I couldn’t forgive myself for not saying something.”
They could see her cringe at the possibility, eyes glazed over now with tears.
“Fuck, see, I’m making you cry again. I’m just so fucking bad at this - and I’m a fucking mess, I should thank the Gods you’re even looking me in the eye right now.”
Fearne opened her mouth slightly, and closed it again, struggling to find words.
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say, Ash. I haven’t forgiven you fully but I - I don’t want to hear about how you could die tomorrow. It hurts to even consider it, even if it’s real.”
“ I know that, I just - listen, I love every one of these guys, I’m already too deep in to pretend I don’t care. But I have 0 experience when it comes to the other stuff, and yet I can’t stop thinking about it, even now, you look so fucking pretty I feel like I’m gonna start slipping into nonsense, and I-”
There was a blush now faintly coloring her cheeks, but her expression was still frozen in fear and a lack of apprehension. Ashton moved their hand over hers, willing to make her understand.Letters would have told him to be honest and trust her with her emotions. So he decided to stop explaining it.
“Fearne, I - You know I’m in love with you, right?”
His nerves were stilled by fear, but also by some type of exhilaration, like a weight had lifted from him. Fearne inhaled sharply, like lightning had struck next to them, nothing but shock in her soft features. And then slowly, very slowly, she shook her head.
“No, I didn’t, Ash.”
Well, fuck. They tried to take her not running as a good sign - his hands still softly laying over hers, pulse visible on the surface of his skin. “I’m not expecting anything - I know I don’t deserve you, or maybe anyone, but I just had to make sure you know. That I don’t go down without telling you. I’m so in love it strikes me down every time you look at me.”
Fearne shuffled closer to him, until they were so close they had to turn their heads to see each other. From this distance, Ashton could see her eyes, alight with fire against dark pupils, surely mirroring his. “I feel the same, Ash. I just did not know how to handle it before.” Her voice was quiet and shy. Unsure of itself.
They would have taken anything from her - a slap in the face, a polite rejection. He would have kept his distance for the rest of their time if she’d asked, even if it would have shattered him. But hearing that from Fearne felt like a sort of adrenaline kick that people lost their life looking for. Slowly, a smile spread on her face, meek and so fucking lovely, the distance between them even closer. One of his hands carefully framed her face, dizzy with want, fingers shaking on the smooth skin, and she leaned into it slightly, like she’d been waiting for it.
“Can I kiss you?”
When she nodded, his arms instinctively drew her body closer to him, until she was almost climbing in his lap. And when their lips made contact, it felt like a miracle from the Gods he had no trust in. The fire in her lit them from within completely, head swimming in nothing but her, her scent, the feeling of her tongue shyly licking his bottom lip, asking for permission. He nodded into the kiss, his right titan hand wrapping around her waist and bringing her even closer, tilting his head in order to take anything she wanted - he would give her anything, his dumb broken heart on a silver platter if she requested it.
They licked into her mouth with greed, desperate to know her, to get closer. She tasted sweet for some fae reason, and it was intoxicating, how her body felt like it perfectly fit his arms, how she would bite his lower lip and then lick it over to soothe it. Slowly, it turned from soft to sharp, their hips grinding together ever so slightly, every morsel of self-control that Ashton had slipping from his reach when her nails dug into the skin of his shoulder blades, marking him as his. His hand closed in a fist around her hair, tugging at it gently until he could hear her moaning into the kiss. When they broke apart for a moment, his heavy breathing matched hers. They already missed the taste of her mouth, those little sounds she'd let out when his hands gripped her hips.
“Fuck, Fearne - you're killing me here, if we don’t stop now I might - we might rush into something. ”
Her breath felt warm on his lips when she let out a little chuckle - he couldn’t help but kiss a trail from the corner of her mouth down into her neck, grazing the skin slightly with his teeth. She let out a little whimper, and the need only grew hungrier - they had to stop, even if all he wanted was to keep going lower. He leaned his head back against the wall, and looked up at her with satisfaction, knowing she looked so disheveled because of him. She was smiling, lips a dark shade of pink - voice lower than usual, enough for it to go straight to his head.
“You’re right, we should slow down. Maybe we could - just sleep, for now? Talk about it more tomorrow?”
He nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling too. In all the fucked up shit that was going wrong with the world, at least he’d managed one good thing. They took Fearne’s hand and stood up, letting themselves be guided into her bed. This time, he opened his arms and let Fearne burrow into his chest, legs entangled together until he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. This time sleep came easily, warmth slowly seeping from her skin and into his bones. He fell unconscious with his lips on her forehead, and a silent prayer that everything could stay exactly as it was, for once.