Chapter Text
Willow screamed herself awake.
Or she would’ve, if not for the blood she choked on as she came to, spluttering at the taste of metal in the back of her throat.
There went her rest and relaxation, if such a thing even existed at this point. Seriously, could she have a single night that she slept through soundly? Could she have a single, mythical night, where she didn’t dream the agonized faces of her fathers under an eclipsed sun, or the sound of her friends screaming in her ears, or the feeling of her body being broken against the pillars of the Skull? Honestly, sleep was starting to feel like its own kind of hell.
Stumbling from her cot to the bathroom, Willow spat into the sink. She felt around in her mouth and realized that she’d bitten her tongue just as it scraped against her teeth, aggravating the barely clotted wound—Titan, that stung. She spat again. The quiet drumming of rain on the window gave her something to focus on while she reached for some gauze in the medicine cabinet.
The weather here was cold, and mild, and nothing at all like back home. Willow never thought there’d be a day where she missed boiling rain, but every raindrop reminded her of what she’d lost. Of what they’d all lost.
There was shuffling from just beyond the doorway, and suddenly a head of lavender hair popped into view.
“Amity?” Willow whispered, but the gauze she’d just placed to her tongue made it sound closer to Am-i-ee?
The other girl yawned. “Are you alright? I woke up and saw you weren’t in bed, and… what’s in your mouth?”
Willow lifted the fabric and inspected its surface for blood. There was less than she’d anticipated, so that was good, and her tongue felt fine other than the occasional twinge of pain. When she realized her tongue had stopped bleeding, she tossed the gauze in the trash. “Sorry, I um—I think I bit my tongue in my sleep? I’m good though, don’t worry!” She gave the other girl a hearty grin and a thumbs up to cement the point.
For her part, Amity didn’t look convinced. “Well I’m glad your tongue’s okay, but… are you okay? I didn’t want to say anything but I heard you tossing in your sleep. I, uh,” she started to reach out a hand, ever-so hesitantly, before letting it drop to her side, “I know this week has been rough, for all of us, but you’ve been acting like you’re fine. Like, weirdly fine. I just… I don’t want you to think you have to ignore the skelephant in the room for our sakes.”
Willow started to deny what Amity was saying, but she was quickly interrupted—“And don’t try to act like I’m making things out to be bigger than they actually are. We lived through an apocalypse, Willow.”
A tension settled in the room, electric with something unspoken: no one escapes the apocalypse unscathed. There was a choice here. She could either ignore Amity and pull her ‘everything’s fine and there’s absolutely no reason to think otherwise!’ shtick, or she could just tell it like it was. If she’d had the energy, she definitely would’ve gone with the former, but the reality was that she hadn’t slept through the night since arriving at the Noceda household. She was too tired to pretend.
“Alright.” Willow whispered, “You caught me.” Amity looked up, startled, clearly expecting more resistance. “I’m-I’m not gonna try to lie to you, Amity, even if I wish you’d let me. It’s been… harder than I’d like to admit, but I don’t…” she ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it down before letting out a sigh, “I don’t think I can talk about it right now.”
Amity clearly wanted to argue but held her tongue.
“…Okay.”
She stepped forward slightly, crossing the threshold of hallway-to-bathroom, and paused.
Willow watched Amity make a series of calculations in her head, unsure of what she was thinking beyond the way her eyes darted between her own and the floor.
And then Amity was closing the gap between them, moving like she had planned the optimal route to reach Willow in the least amount of steps, and embraced her. She was warm, and her pajamas were soft on Willow’s skin, and it was comforting in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. This wasn’t like a see you later hug or a how’ve you been hug, it was more than that. Amity squeezed her like she was trying to pour an entire ocean of care into Willow’s heart.
“Please,” she breathed, her voice gentle, “talk to someone, Willow. It doesn’t have to be me. It could be anyone. Just… please don’t hide from us.”
Willow let herself fall deeper into the embrace. “I’ll try.”
They stayed like that for a minute, holding on to each other as the pitter-patter of rain droned in the background.
Amity let go first and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m gonna try to go back to bed. Uh—you wanna come with?”
“Nah, I think I’ll grab a drink or something first. But… thanks for checking on me Amity, I really appreciate it.” Willow flashed her a soft smile and stepped out of the room.
“Any time.”
Willow turned toward the stairs. When she didn’t hear Amity moving, Willow peered back to see a strange look on her face, like she was somewhere distant.
“Hey Amity?”
She jerked up at her name.
“Get some sleep. You need it.”
With a quiet laugh and a will do, she walked back in the direction of the girls’ room, leaving Willow to descend the staircase in silence.
It was weird being friends again, to tell the truth. Nice weird for sure, but still weird. Since their reconciliation, she often found herself struggling to fit all the pieces of Amity Blight into the same picture; there was the Amity who had been her best friend, and the Amity who had been her worst bully, and a new Amity who was trying to be better, and somehow all three of them were entirely the same yet completely different.
Regardless of who she used to be, though, this new Amity was kind. Maybe that’s all that mattered.
Unfortunately for Willow, she was still just as incisive as ever. With the conversation looping in her head, Willow tiptoed downstairs, ever so gingerly avoiding squeaky floorboards as she went. By the time she was passing through the living room, Amity’s words felt like they were rattling her brain from the inside out.
We lived through an apocalypse, Willow. Please, don’t hide from us.
She almost laughed at the phrasing—if you asked her, she wasn’t someone who hid. She was someone who ran.
Willow wanted to be someone strong, someone reliable, someone who didn’t abandon her home at the first glimpse of safety, but at the end of the day, she was a coward. She ran with her tail tucked between her legs through the portal door and only stopped to look back after she’d already crossed the threshold. Willow had been running since her childhood and she hadn’t stopped until she was in an entirely different dimension, and even now, she was still running.
But she couldn’t stop. Because if she stopped, she’d have to admit why she was running to begin with, and that was a beast she couldn’t bring herself to face.
She shook herself out of it. Time and place, Park, time and place.
In the tangle of her thoughts, Willow almost missed it—a shadow in the corner of her vision, its lines drawn taut, its form stock-still. A spell circle was at her fingertips before she could even register the white-hot fear suddenly surging through her chest. She tiptoed towards it, not wanting to give away her position, and paused as the shape came into focus.
There, standing with his back to her and watching the rain fall, was Hunter. He was breathing oddly, like his chest was only rising for a third of the breaths he should’ve been taking; Willow watched as he swayed on the spot like a leaf quivering on the branch.
Her muffled tread grew louder, not wanting to startle him. She let the spell fall away as she approached.
“Hunter?”
A beat. Another beat. Willow could see his face in the reflection of the living room window, red eyes piercing the forest with an intensity that betrayed his otherwise neutral expression. He wasn’t watching, really. It was more like he was trying to pin the woods’ shadows to the ground.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him like this, but it was definitely one of the worst. Normally he was at least somewhat responsive, offering one word answers to questions or nodding his head, but when she called out to him now there wasn’t even a twitch of the ear to suggest he’d heard her.
Concern flared in Willow’s mind. He’d had an episode like this at Hexside after telling Principal Bump about the more haunting elements of the Day of Unity, but Viney had been there to coax him with gentle words and grounding exercises until he was coherent again.
She was so calm and collected that Willow felt muscles relax that she hadn’t even realized she was tensing.
But Willow was not Viney, and she was really struggling to stay calm, and the only things she really collected were vintage flyer derby cards, and oh my Titan I am not cut out to be a healer—
A subtle shine of green light reflected off the window pane, bringing Willow back to the moment. The magic drained from her eyes as she let out a shaky breath. Apparently, calm and collected was out of the question.
Okay, she thought, if I can’t do it Viney’s way, I’ll do it my way.
She drew another spell circle and summoned a small vine from a potted plant nearby, pulling it to where she stood; from its tip sprouted a red flower in the vague shape of a person. She twirled her finger and, subtly, it began to dance in what she hoped was the corner of Hunter’s vision.
Willow put on an exaggeratedly cheery voice and whispered, “H-hey, Hunter, it’s me, uh… Planty McPlantface! Willow told me you weren’t feeling too hot and asked me to check up on you!” the flowerdoll waved its petals to emphasize its statement.
His ear twitched. Willow one, Healing Coven zero.
She moved it closer before speaking again, “How’re you feeling bud? Do you want a hug?”
Hunter’s eyes flitted to the doll, and Willow swore she saw his lips quirk into a smile for just a second before he slowly shook his head no. The reaction gave her just enough reassurance to keep going.
“Um, alright! You should probably sit down then, maybe with your good friend Willow?”
He glanced back towards her and she smiled as sweetly as she could, quietly celebrating the recognition she saw in his eyes.
She could see the gears turning in his head. Then suddenly, an almost imperceptible nod.
Willow beamed at him and began to reach out a hand before thinking better of it. Hesitantly, he staggered towards where she had sat on the couch.
She positioned herself at the end farthest from the window to give Hunter the most space she could, but as he approached the other end, he paused before walking a bit further and sinking into the cushions next to her. Willow could feel the warmth radiating through his pajamas, his leg barely brushing against hers, and she couldn’t help but lean into the contact. When he didn’t jump away, she almost cheered.
“...That was pretty lame, but I’m glad it worked. I didn’t really have a good backup plan if Planty hadn’t caught your attention, heh.” Willow broke the silence and chuckled a bit at the improvised distraction. She looked over to see Hunter scratching at his arm, drawing angry red lines as he raked his fingernails over the skin. Without thinking, she reached out and offered a hand to him, hoping he’d accept it and do something else with the restless energy that seemed to be eating away at his mind.
His hand stilled but he didn’t move to take hers, instead letting it fall to his lap. Better that than scratching, though, so she took it as a win and started to fidget with one of her braids.
The two sat in the darkness of the living room, illuminated solely by moonlight, listening to the sounds of rain and quiet breathing. Willow didn’t know where to go from here—she was pretty sure the storm was starting to bore a hole into her skull, though, so she started rambling and hoped that it might help settle Hunter somehow.
“Um. The... the plants here are pretty weird, y’know? Or—at least I seem to think so. It’s just… so strange working in Camila’s garden without worrying about breathing in helladonna pollen, or stumbling over a patch of dead witch’s fingers, or getting impaled on a gladiolus and—oh, actually!” Willow interrupted herself as she remembered a conversation she’d had, “That reminds me, I was talking about that with Luz the other day and she told me that gladioluses exist here, too, but apparently they aren’t actually sharp, and I was like ‘well why even call it that if the petals can’t hold an edge?’ and she just laughed at me for some reason?
“So anyway, I asked Camila if she had any books on gardening and she told me that she didn’t but we could go to the library to check some out, so that should be fun I think? I wonder if they have their own demon decimal system here—Amity always tells me not to feed the Bonesborough system, but I can’t help it if a bonbon falls out of my hand in front of one of the shelving demons!”
At that point Willow had frankly gotten a little bit sidetracked; she would’ve launched into another tangent, but then she felt Hunter drop his head onto her shoulder and froze. If it had been anyone else she wouldn’t have even noticed, but Hunter? He usually acted like he’d catch the common mold from anything more intimate than a handshake—him sitting so close to her in the first place was already pretty notable, especially considering the state he was in.
Noticing her reaction, he started to pull back.
She silently berated herself for making him uncomfortable. “W-wait, it’s okay, I was just… a little shocked! It’s alright, Hunter,” she whispered, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. He paused, considering what she said, before settling back on her shoulder. He was even more rigid than when Willow had first seen him at the window, if that was even possible.
“Sorry if I had you worried there, um—I just wasn’t really expecting you to do that.”
He shook his head, so softly that Willow would’ve chalked it up to her imagination if she hadn’t felt the movement herself. She didn’t understand what he meant by it though—maybe he was just as surprised as she was, or maybe it was more of a not your fault motion? Regardless, she felt encouraged by the response.
Hunter’s lanky body was tensed in a way that Willow was certain had to be painful, and she wasn’t the most comfortable either; she knew he wasn’t going to do anything to relax by himself so, summoning an air of tired confidence she certainly didn’t have, she took it upon herself to maneuver them into a more agreeable position.
“Hey Hunter, if you don’t mind,” she began, the broken silence cementing her decision, “could you sit up for a second?”
He picked his head up and glanced at her with a sort of expression she couldn’t place. She started to worry that what she was about to do was going to scare him further, but before she could think too hard about it, Willow already had her arm around his shoulders.
The tension in his back doubled and she immediately started to pull away before, suddenly, she felt him lean into her touch. After he stayed like that for a moment, she felt emboldened to go through with what she’d planned.
“Um, s-sorry if that startled you! If it’s alright though, could you—uh—here, let me just get you comfy.”
Taking his continued contact as agreement, she turned him away from her before carefully pulling him back, guiding him down to lay in her lap with his legs resting on the empty half of the sofa. If it weren’t for the dim moonlight streaming through the glass, she might’ve missed the crimson flush that spread from his cheeks to his ears.
She tried, and subsequently failed, to stifle the giggles that left her mouth.
Hunter shot her a look of such intense betrayal that she had to bite her cheek to keep from barking out another laugh. It was objectively cute, but it was also the most expressive he’d been all night.
“Heh, my bad, I just thought this would be a little nicer for both of us. Feel free to get up if you don’t want to lie down though!” When he didn’t respond, she prodded, “I could always call Clover down to take your spot if you’d like, she loves to sleep there.”
That got a reaction. Hunter, who had previously been stiff as a board, made a visible effort to settle into their new arrangement while his blush grew impossibly more vivid. It was nice—after Willow got the teasing out of her system, anyhow.
A peal of thunder crashed outside. Hunter tensed as the sound reverberated through the room. Willow instinctively reached out a hand to steady him, and where her fingers grazed him, she felt his muscles relax. Her eyes drifted to the forest beyond the window.
“It's funny… my Papa used to hold me like this when I was a witchlet,” she whispered. “Me and Amity got caught in a cloudburst at Lake Lacuna once, and after that I got really scared of the rain. The next time it stormed I cried so hard I couldn’t see—like, screaming crying—and no matter what my dads said I was just… inconsolable.
“Then Papa put me in his lap and he held me while I sobbed into his beard, and eventually I calmed down enough to fall asleep. That probably would’ve been my first thought, but apparently I was running them ragged and—” she paused, feeling something soft push against her hand.
Willow wouldn’t have noticed if Hunter hadn’t moved. She would’ve stayed blissfully oblivious to what she was doing.
Instead, she looked down to see her fingers carding through Hunter’s hair, his face now nestled against her stomach, eyes half-lidded. Her hands stilled and a thousand thoughts flooded her brain, all echoing the same awful embarrassment mixed with concern… what if she was messing this up? What if he was super weirded out right now? Or what if he was uncomfortable and just staying still to avoid making her uncomfortable? Or what if he was so uncomfortable that he never wanted to speak to her again? Or what if—
She was broken out of her spiral when Hunter turned to face her, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Oh, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I guess—I must've started messing with your hair, it wasn’t on purpose I just wasn’t really thinking and… Titan, I'm making it weird.” The apology fell from her mouth clumsily, and she dropped her face into her palms to hide the nervous heat pooling in her cheeks.
Quietly, a hoarse voice replied, “Uh… ’s alright, Captain.”
Willow peeked through her fingers just in time to see Hunter look away.
“It was nice,” he mumbled, somehow even softer than before.
“Oh!”
Oh…!
It was Hunter’s turn to blush this time. Willow’s anxiety rapidly dissolved into mischievous delight as she realized three things: one, she had not accidentally destroyed their friendship, two, he was speaking again, which meant her plan to ground him was solidly underway, and three, he was present enough to be flustered.
A wolfish grin settled on her lips.
“Is that right?” Willow cooed. She angled closer and rested her hand in his hair again, noting the color rising to his skin, “Are you enjoying this, Hunter?”
Almost instantly, he turned a shade of red that even Amity would find impressive. He made an indiscernible noise and shut his eyes again.
Willow leaned back, still carding through his hair, and couldn’t help but snicker. If Gus had seen it, he’d have joined in with a joke about how dumb Hunter looks when Willow ‘flirts’ with him, and Willow would’ve acted like she had no idea what Gus was talking about, and they’d rag on Hunter until they saw steam pour out of his ears.
But they were alone, and Hunter wasn’t saying anything to deny her question. If anything, it was more like he was chasing her touch, lightly nudging her palms whenever they lifted too much for his liking.
If it were anyone else, she probably would’ve kept teasing them. She would’ve let up eventually and enjoyed the feeling of soft hair between her fingers before falling asleep like that. Her mind wouldn’t have kept replaying the scene of them standing at the window, quaking like an aspen.
She felt her smile slip, ever so slightly, and then stopped. “Hunter, what were you doing out here?”
He glanced up at her. Willow was sad to see the flush drain from his cheeks, even if she’d expected it.
“Couldn’t sleep. Came up to patrol.”
“Nightmare?”
He nodded, busying his hands with a loose thread in her shirt’s hem. She felt a pang of empathy as she recalled her own dreams.
“I hear you.” She hesitated before adding, “Do you wanna tell me about it?”
Hunter stiffened. His expression was solemn, staring at something she couldn’t see. Willow set her hands to work again, this time holding his head close and rubbing gentle circles into the muscles at his neck, trying to give him enough security to speak.
He curled further into her and mumbled wearily. “…This one was bad. They’re all bad but this one was-was awful, Captain.”
When he peered up at her again, she tried to look as understanding as possible. She tilted her head a bit as if to say keep going.
Hunter sighed. She could see him steeling his resolve, even as he looked away. “We were fighting unc—we were… we were fighting Belos again, but this time King didn’t… he wasn't there. Nobody was there to release the Collector, and Belos killed everyone. He killed everyone, and I couldn’t even move. He grabbed Flap,” his voice broke on the name, “and then he-he made me watch while he…”
The words died on his lips. Willow’s grip grew tighter.
“…He held my eyes open to make me watch the draining spell. My sigil hurt so much, I thought—I thought I was going to die, and I was so glad, but he wouldn’t let me… not until it was just us. He used the portal to escape and the Skull collapsed and crushed me and I could feel my bones breaking but I still wouldn’t die. And then just-just pain. And quiet.”
She didn’t know when, but at some point Hunter had begun to shake underneath her.
He seemed smaller here in the moonlight, all awash in silver—or maybe he just seemed younger. Maybe the soft, strangled sounds of a boy trying not to fall apart reminded Willow of sobbing into her Papa’s beard and clutching at her Dad’s hands, of folding herself between them, knowing they would protect her from the monsters of childhood.
“Hunter,” she murmured, “can you look at me for a second?”
His uneven breathing stuttered as the question registered in his mind. Hesitantly, like he was fighting the urge to cower, Hunter raised his head to meet her gaze. She saw the nightmare play out in front of him even as his eyes found hers.
“We’re safe. I promise you, we’re alive and safe. Belos didn’t win, nobody died, and it’s all… it’s all gonna be okay.” If Willow didn’t think the last part was true, she tried not to show it.
It had to be true. It had to be true because if it wasn’t, she would uproot each and every plant on the Boiling Isles and however many more on Earth to have the strength to make it true.
Hunter saw through her shaky promises instantly. Willow watched him wrestle with the idea for a moment before falling back into himself. He didn’t believe her, she realized, because a part of him was still trapped in the rubble of the Titan’s skull. A part of him was still watching their friends die. Watching her die.
How do you convince someone that you’re alive?
She was breathing. She was warm. She was holding him as tightly as she thought he could handle. What else was there to do?
Nothing. Something. Anything. Taking a breath, Willow reached out for his hand, making sure to telegraph her movements in the process. His palm was rough where they touched, calluses rising from the skin like mountains, and it fell into her grasp like iron to a magnet. She chose to ignore how well their fingers slot together.
Cautiously, she lifted their hands to her face, watching Hunter’s expression for any signs of reluctance or discomfort; when she found none, Willow disentangled herself and laid her cheek in his palm. She might’ve been embarrassed at how forward she was being, especially since she had absolutely no clue if this would work, but she was too tired to be ashamed.
And yet… she watched as the hollow anxiety in his eyes faltered, replaced by something quietly astonished.
“We’re okay, Hunter. Nothing is going to hurt us here.”
Hunter didn’t respond for a moment, just looking up at Willow from her lap, cupping her cheek like she might shatter if he moved the wrong way. And then she pushed deeper into the contact.
Tears caught the moonlight as they began to streak down his face. She smiled, trying to reassure him, and suddenly he was openly weeping, curling his body around her like she was the only thing tethering him to reality. Hunter turned his face even further into her to bury himself in her shirt; she pulled him as close as she could and the poorly muffled sound of crying intensified as he sobbed violently.
Willow raked one hand through his hair and set the other on his back to massage the muscles there. She didn’t think he needed to be told to breathe, so instead she did what she wished her dads could do for her these days.
Softly, she started to hum.
Her fathers both loved music. Her Papa was constantly singing whatever tune was stuck in his head, and her Dad had an old piano he liked to practice on his days off, and when she was a witchlet she’d sit on his lap while he and Papa performed a little duet. Neither of them had been able to study bard magic, but they liked bringing Willow to the recitals Head Witch Crane put on in Bonesborough before his retirement.
In another life, maybe they became bards together. Maybe they still could.
She shook her head—there’d be time to think about her family after she got Hunter calmed down.
When the melody first left her lips, she hadn’t recognized it; as it wound its way through the room, though, Willow was struck with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. It was a lullaby Amity liked to sing when they played 'house' at Lake Lacuna. It was gentle, and slightly sad, but a certain tenderness bled through its tune all the same.
As Willow pet Hunter’s hair, humming as she did, his gasping cries grew more and more infrequent until he was mostly breathing evenly. From the way his eyes fluttered open and closed, she assumed the stress of the night had finally taken its toll on him.
Listening to the soft, steady rush of his breathing, she felt a week’s worth of fatigue double its weight on her shoulders. Willow grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wordlessly draped it across the boy in her lap. Her own eyes drooped with exhaustion, and her fingertips scratched gentle lines on Hunter’s scalp.
“No more nightmares,” she whispered. “Nothing is going to hurt us anymore.”