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Devin takes a drag of his cigarette, his hands hanging limply off the thick blocks that made up the Divinus Magia’s balcony railing. His knuckles are chapped by the cold, heavy gusts of wind whipping against his fingertips.
“I don’t think those are very good for you,” A soft voice says from behind him, and if Devin wasn’t completely numbed by the cold, he would’ve flinched.
Devin shifts, and Ritchie moves into the open space.
“No, they’re not,” Devin agrees. He adjusts it back and forth, exhaling in the opposite direction of the man through the corner of his mouth. He feels bad for a moment for the pollution he’s letting loose into David’s garden, before the wash of grief floods through him, and he takes another drag.
It feels better like this.
God, Devin feels stupid.
Here, with his shitty cigarette he made with his magic. Here, relapsing in a habit he hadn’t indulged in for years. Here, all alone with no one but Ritchie by his side.
Here, without Michael.
They’re silent for a moment, looking out at the pink leaves of Tapio’s tree, like it would fix Devin’s brain.
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Ritchie startles him out of his stupor, his voice cutting through Devin’s unruly mass of thoughts. “Now that he’s gone, it’s like there’s a hole everywhere he should be.
“Or at least, that’s how they tell you it feels,” Ritchie sighs, fidgeting with his own hands, “Maybe it’s even how it’s felt like in the past. But right now, it feels like you’re not you anymore, and your better half has been stripped from your soul.”
“Like I’ll never be the same again,” Devin mutters. His shoulders collapse, and he goes limp against the stone railing he was resting his forearms on.
Ritchie reaches across his shoulders, gently pulling Devin closer into a side embrace. Within a few seconds, Devin is melting into his guild leader’s side.
He’s warm. It’s nice.
It’s always strange when people touch him. After his years trapped away, something fundamentally wrong with the feeling of being able to touch anything.
But he’s too tired to delve into that disconnect. All Devin knows, swaddled in grief and exhaustion and Ritchie’s cloak, is that something about this is right.
“Between Micheal becoming a guild leader and Eden’s everything, our visits have been sporadic at best. And now,” He swallows thickly, “And now…”
Ritchie squeezes him tighter.
There is a soft press against his palm, and he looks to see Ritchie’s hand trying to nudge the cig out of his hand. It only takes one attempt before Devin gives in, handing it over.
“And now he’s gone,” His voice is soggy with unshed tears. Devin has cried so much today. He doesn’t understand how he could have more to give. “Now look at me— god he’d be so disappointed. You’re probably disappointed.”
“Hey, hey,” Ritchie leans closer into his space and Devin musters the energy to look at him. “Who in this guild knows what it feels like to lose a brother and turn to shitty habits to cope?”
“I didn’t know David lost a brother,” Devin jokes despite himself. A tear gathers and dribbles down his cheek with the movement,
Ritchie’s eyes crinkle as he smirks, “David, huh? And what bad habit did he fall into?”
Devin snorts at the indulgence, “He’s a gardening addict. It’s obsessive.”
Ritchie laughs, before his voice grows fond. He wipes the tear dripping down Devin’s nose, “We have some pretty talented people in the guild, huh.”
Devin catches Ritchie’s hand when he attempts to lower it back to the rail. His guild leader’s eyes widen, before a tiny smile finds its way onto his lips.
“It’s nice. Being a part of a guild that builds things instead of tearing them down,” Devin confesses. It feels like a betrayal. He fiddles with Ritchie’s hand, too exhausted to think of the implications of them, together, here.
“I’ve made a thousand mistakes in my life, been a terrible person, but if there’s one thing I will never regret, it’s joining this guild, with these people. The best thing I’ve ever done is become a guild leader to these wonderful, talented, badass people,” Ritchie’s other arm squeezes around him, and a lightning strike of tingles runs through him. “You’re one of those people now, Devin.”
Doesn’t Ritchie know how unworthy of his words Devin is? Some instinct in him rose to deflect, to take down these claims that he was better than he was.
“No, no you’ve got me all wrong. I’m nothing without Micheal. Without,” The words catch in his throat, reluctant, “Eden.”
“Bullshit,” Ritchie says. He looks at Devin with a calm certainty on his face, “You are one of the best people I’ve ever met. You are so strong, you are the kindest person in any room, and you are braver than anyone gives you credit for. Not Micheal, not Eden—you, Devin.”
Devin looks at him, and Ritchie pulls him against his chest into a full hug. Devin falls into him, into his warmth. He leans all of his weight against him. If Ritchie moved and Devin fell, he wasn’t sure he would be able to get up again.
He doesn’t.
“You’ve cared for me—I just want to do the same for you,” Ritchie cups his cheek. “Please, Devin, let me return the favor.”
They stay there for a while, hidden away from the cold. The smell of cigarette smoke and regret still hangs thick in the air, but slowly but surely, it drifts down and away.