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—IN THE MAIN CABIN—
The door creaked open with the sound of soft hinges and heavier footsteps. Dusekkar floated in, cape dragging limply behind him, head unusually low. Matches had drained him down to his last spark. His jack-o'-lantern glow flickered like a dying candle as he finally gave in and let gravity have its way.
With a dull thud, he hit the floor.
He sprawled like spilled soup, limbs akimbo, breath wheezing out in a low groan. No Survivors around to witness this sad sight, thank the abyss. Just the quiet wood of the cabin and the blessed stillness of—
Creak…
Footsteps…
A familiar smirk…
Shedletsky.
The sound of his boots echoed a second longer than they should’ve, long enough for Dusekkar to roll his head sideways and squint up with glowing eyes just in time to see one leg come down… and nudge him.
Then again... And again…
"Are you rolling me around like a ragdoll?" Dusekkar murmured, voice half-asleep.
"You look like a dying starfish," Shedletsky said, cackling as he pushed Dusekkar’s side with his foot, sending him spinning halfway across the cabin like an awkward pumpkin-shaped coin.
Dusekkar groaned. "You’re insufferable."
"Aw. Don’t pout, pumpkin." But he wasn’t done.
Without warning, Shedletsky leaned down and bit him.
“AH—what the hell?!” Dusekkar shrieked, flailing weakly and lurching halfway upright, only to slump again.
“You rabid birdbrain—” His teeth sank into Shedletsky’s neck with a tired growl.
"—You wanna play, fine!"
It devolved fast... Teeth met limbs, cheeks, arms, thighs, and even—“Hey! Not the chest!” Dusekkar wheezed, swatting at him with all the strength of a wet sock. Each bite from Shedletsky was dramatic and obnoxious. Dusekkar tried fighting back, at first, weak little nips of retaliation. But quickly, he sighed and gave up.
This wasn’t worth it… Not today.
He lay there in his bitten, miserable glory and stared at the ceiling. “You done?” he mumbled, eyes half-closed.
Shedletsky hummed. “Yeah.”
And then something strange happened. Shedletsky scooped Dusekkar up.
Not like a sack of potatoes, but with gentle hands and careful arms. He didn’t drop him on the couch, didn’t kick him into a corner like a thrown coat. Instead, Shedletsky carried him to his own cabin. Dusekkar, blinking slowly, expected a mattress toss and a sarcastic remark.
He got a bath..
Warm water. Bubbles. Hands smoothing over his worn-out limbs, careful around every bite. He didn’t speak. Neither did Shedletsky. It was quiet, oddly reverent.
Then came food. Soft bread. Soup Dusekkar was too tired to lift a spoon for—so Shedletsky fed him.
Dusekkar was too stunned to comment…
The chest bites were bandaged with care. The worst one on his shoulder got a touch of ointment and a brush of fingers And through all of this, Shedletsky didn’t let him walk. Or float.
He carried him. Like a princess. Like he was made of glass or something.
Dusekkar was breathless by the time they reached Shedletsky’s bed.
"You’re really doing all this?" he asked, voice thin, a strange laugh rumbling in his throat. “Didn’t know you had a habit of caring for others.”
Shedletsky didn’t answer. He just tucked him in. Like it was normal. Like this was routine.
Then, with one last glance, he turned to leave.
“I didn’t know,” Dusekkar murmured, “you had this in you.”
Shedletsky paused at the doorway. For a moment, the mischief was gone from his face.
“I developed it,” he said softly, stepping back to place a small, quiet kiss on Dusekkar’s cheek. “When I heard you were coming to Forsaken.”
And then he was gone…
Dusekkar, curled beneath too-soft blankets, stared into the warm dark and chuckled to himself.
“That idiot…”
He fell asleep smiling.