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Kaz Brekker wasn’t a man prone to generosity. His sharp edges were as much a part of him as his gloves or cane, and he rarely indulged in the sentimentality he mocked in others. But Wylan Van Eck had a way of softening even the harshest parts of Ketterdam.
Kaz began to notice little things about Wylan: how his eyes lingered on shop windows displaying delicate jewelry, or the way his hands brushed over wildflowers growing between cracks in the cobblestones. Wylan never asked for anything. He didn’t reach for the pretty things he admired, instead focusing his energy on giving. Treats for the crows, carefully drawn maps, bombs meticulously constructed. Wylan poured himself into others, never seeming to expect anything in return.
It unsettled Kaz, the boy’s relentless kindness. But it also moved something in him—something he didn’t care to name.
So, he started leaving gifts.
The first was a small silver locket, plain and unassuming, tucked into a corner of Wylan’s workshop. When Wylan found it, his face lit up like dawn breaking over the Barrel. He wore it immediately, smiling shyly when Jesper teased him about his "secret admirer."
Next came a set of fine sketching pencils, left in the pocket of Wylan’s coat. Then a delicate handkerchief embroidered with his initials, folded neatly on his workbench. Every gift was chosen with care, understated but beautiful, and perfectly suited to Wylan’s tastes.
Kaz never delivered them directly. He wasn’t in it for the thanks. He simply wanted to see Wylan’s face brighten, to know the boy who gave so much might feel a fraction of that warmth returned.
But Wylan wasn’t as oblivious as Kaz assumed. He noticed the pattern—the quiet thoughtfulness of the gestures, the way they seemed to appear when he needed them most. Eventually, he pieced it together.
One day, after a meeting, Wylan lingered in the corner of the room as the others filed out. Jesper was halfway through the door when he stopped and gave Wylan a wink. "Don’t be late for dinner, merchling."
When it was just the two of them, Wylan turned to Kaz.
“Is it you?” he asked softly, clutching the locket around his neck.
Kaz didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. “Is what me?”
“The gifts,” Wylan said, his voice trembling slightly. “The locket, the pencils, the flowers yesterday... It’s you, isn’t it?”
Kaz’s hands stilled. He didn’t respond immediately, his expression carefully unreadable. But the way his jaw tightened gave Wylan his answer.
“Why?” Wylan asked, stepping closer. “Why would you do that for me?”
Kaz finally looked up, his dark eyes steady. “Because you deserve them.”
The simplicity of the statement brought tears to Wylan’s eyes. His father had spent years convincing him he wasn’t worthy of anything—not love, not kindness, not beauty. And yet, here was Kaz Brekker, giving him all three in his own quiet way.
From that day forward, Wylan looked at Kaz like he hung the stars. He began sitting next to him during meetings, leaning toward him with an eagerness that Jesper teased him about endlessly.
"Careful, merchling," Jesper would say with a smirk, "you’re going to make me jealous."
But Wylan didn’t care. He adored Kaz, his gratitude spilling out in shy smiles and impromptu hugs that Kaz tolerated with a gruff, almost imperceptible fondness.
“Do you think he knows you’re not a saint?” Jesper teased one day. Kaz glared at Jesper, and shook his head.
“Maybe he’s lost this mind.” He grumbled. Yet he looked over at Wylan, who was sitting in a chair and doodling in his notebook, with something akin to fondness.
The rest of the crows were equal parts amused and baffled. “I think Wylan’s broken the Bastard of the Barrel,” Nina whispered to Inej one evening, watching as Wylan quietly slipped a fresh flower onto Kaz’s desk.
Kaz, of course, said nothing. But when Wylan wasn’t looking, he tucked the flower into his pocket, careful to keep it safe.
The first time Wylan tried to hug Kaz, it was awkward. Kaz froze, every muscle tense as Wylan wrapped his arms around him, resting his head briefly on Kaz’s shoulder.
“You’re really kind,” Wylan said softly, pulling back before Kaz could react.
The next time, Kaz didn’t flinch as much.