Chapter Text
Caleb Widogast inhales deeply through his nose, focusing on the scent of the flames rather than the sensation of his burning flesh. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, in-two-three-four, out-two-three…
The pain is no less intense than expected, but now the agony is a relief of sorts. It means he can still feel. It means he’s still human, at least for now.
Caleb blinks tears out of his eyes and assesses the damage. His right forearm is a mass of blackened flesh and scar tissue, and he watches the last few dregs of pigmented skin slough from his lean muscle. Quickly, he wraps his arm—by now weeping blood and puss—in tight bandages.
Breathing heavily, he leans forward to press his forehead against the cool, damp tarmac. The gravel digs into his skin. It’s a different kind of pain to the agony in his arm, he notes: sharp and focused, rather than hot, aching and all-encompassing. He clings to the feeling as the throbbing of the burns begins to subside. He’s still alive. He’s still a human.
Eventually, Caleb comes back to himself enough to become aware of the vibration in his pocket. He sits up shakily, arm curled protectively in his lap, and shifts to lean his back against the alley wall, making sure he’s still hidden behind the dumpster. He fumbles for the phone in his pocket, reaching across his body to grab it with his left hand, gritting his teeth as he accidentally presses down on the wound.
20 messages from Trash Goblin.
Caleb grimaces. He’s definitely in for a lecture when he gets back to the flat, but this is too dangerous to do at home and too pressing to put off for another day. He still feels Ikithon’s eyes on him every so often; call it paranoia or call it practicality, if nothing else this eases his mind. Still, he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at making Nott worry. Hesitantly, he opens his messages.
Hey Caleb I’m ordering pizza do you want anythibg
Anything
R u still at work
Caleb
Caleb??
Ur pizzas geting cold
Caleb its been teo hours wherr r u
If you dobt respobd in the next hoyr im filing a missinf persons
Lol
But seriously wherre are yoy
Several more messages follow, increasing in franticness as they decrease in coherency. She’s probably drinking again, Caleb thinks with a pang of worry. It ends in a message bubble containing a bouncing ellipsis, promising more to come. Caleb begins typing as quickly as he can with one hand.
I am fine, Nott.
I will be home soon; please do not wait up for me.
I am sorry for worrying you.
The ellipsis disappears then reappears once he’s finished typing.
Wasmt worryed
Asdholr
Lefr pixza out fro you
Gey home safe
Despite himself, Caleb smiles.
I will, mother.
Thank you for the pizza.
The ellipsis disappears and reappears several more times before Nott goes offline. The smile slips from Caleb’s face, and he sighs.
He flexes his fingers experimentally. The effort of pulling on his tendons makes his half-melted muscles scream in agony, but his hand moves sufficiently enough. He braces himself, then unwraps the bandages from his left forearm. The tattoos beneath look the same as they always do—a pattern of eyes, in various styles and degrees of realism, all in a deep green monochrome—but Caleb can feel the pressure of their gazes. It makes his skin itch.
“Can you hear me, Ikithon?” he mutters. There is no response. Still, he continues, “I know you can see me. I know you’re always watching. Consider this my official resignation.”
He pauses, waiting for… what? How would Trent even reply? What would Caleb do if he saw him right now? Set him on fire, he likes to think. In reality, he’d probably crumble in seconds. No, he needs to cut Ikithon away like the tumour he is.
In-two-three-four…
He sets his right hand to his uninjured arm.
Out-two-three-four…
The heat intensifies, and Caleb tries not to scream.