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Storms rolled through Gravesfield from time to time. Storms came through damn near everywhere, time to time. They’re normal. They happened in the Demon Realm, and they happened here, and Hunter had thought he was fine.
But ever since Willow had started helping with the garden, the vegetation around the house had become plentiful, and so they scraped the house on a good day. On a day with wind and thunder and pouring rain? A day with fifty mile per hour gusts?
Hunter sat in the basement. Gus was upstairs watching a movie with Willow, Amity and Luz were out on a date, and Mrs. Noceda (“Call me Camila, please”) was cooking with Vee. He was trying to get through the third volume of Cosmic Frontier- Gus had read it before he did and had been taunting him all week with some twist that Hunter was approaching ever faster -when suddenly a crash resounded through the walls.
Every muscle tensed. More instinct than thought, he scanned the room for threats. He was alone in the basement, but someone was loud, someone was a threat, and-
Bang!
Hunter stood, heart beating out of his chest. The rain lashed at the walls, drummed on the roof. It was the storm. He knew it was the storm.
Bang! Bang!
…but maybe he should check. Maybe he should just make sure. Make sure everything was fine. Make sure everything was in order, as it should be, in it’s proper place. Make sure there was no reason for anyone to be angry. But he knew it was just the storm, and-
Bang!
“This! Is what it would sound like! If I had slammed! The door!” Echoed a furious voice in his head, images of a broken supply closet door filling his brain from the time Belos had, for the record, slammed the door, and Hunter had made the mistake of pointing it out.
Bang bang bang!
He shook his head vigorously. Belos was dead. His uncle would never again terrorize him. He wasn’t here, he wasn’t angry-
The branch hit the wall and Hunter took a few involuntary steps backwards. He wanted to sink into the floor, he wanted to run away, he wanted to curl up in a ball in the closet and hide. Loud wasn’t safe. Loud wasn’t safe, but Hunter had nowhere to go, and he knew, Titan, he knew that there was no reason to hide. Not here. Not in the Human Realm.
But loud wasn’t safe.
Flapjack fluttered over. Safe! Safe! He insisted, and Hunter let him perch on his knee. When had he sat down? He vaguely registered his back pressing against the wall (he hadn’t thought he’d moved that far). “I’m ok, Flap,” he said, but it was shaky and ragged and barely there, actually, because loud wasn’t safe. Belos would hear him, Belos would notice him, and being noticed by an angry Belos is the worst thing a person could be.
Bang!
“What did you just say to me?” A hand on Hunter’s shoulder, the painful collision with the door.
Bang!
No, no, that wasn’t- he’s not there. Belos isn’t here. Belos is dead and he’s not there.
Safe! Insisted Flapjack once again, and Hunter nodded. “I know. I know.” He whispered, using two fingers to pet Flapjack, hoping that might bring him back.
Sometimes, when stuff like this happened, Luz would say he was having a flashback- some Human Realm brain thing where you get stuck reliving a bad memory. Well, ok, she insisted it wasn’t just humans. And Hunter really wasn’t sure where he fit into that anyway and, ok, not helping.
Bang! Bang!
Belos, tall, imposing, angry. Unreasonable and unavoidable. Hunter trying to placate but only watching Belos’s anger worsen with that sinking feeling that there was nothing he could do to stop the-
Bang!
Hunter ran his hands through his hair, tugging gently, then with increasing force, pleading with the memories to stop. Maybe if he pulled hard enough, he’d go back to normal. Maybe if he pulled hard enough, he’d pull himself back into the present.
Flapjack tapped at his hands. No! Safe! Stop!
“I’m not there. I’m in the Human Realm, and I’m safe. I’m in the Human Realm, and I’m safe. I’m in the Human Realm, and I’m safe. I’m in the Human Realm, and-”
Bang!
Fuck. He can’t do this. “Flap? Can- can you get Gus? Or Willow? If they’re not too busy. Please. I’m sorry.”
Safe! Back soon! Safe! Wait! Chirped the palisman as he fluttered upstairs.
A few minutes later, someone’s feet drummed on the steps, and Hunter fought the urge to stiffen. “It’s not him,” he whispered to himself. “It’s not him.”
“Hunter?”
It was Willow.
“Hunter, you down here?”
“Here,” he managed, and soon Willow was crouching a few feet in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, you don’t have to- I just- I’m having those flashback things and I didn’t want to be alone and I figured you were the least busy but you don’t have to-”
“It’s ok, Hunter. I’m here.”
“I’m really freaking out.”
“I know. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Bang!
Hunter flinched, and Willow’s eyes softened. “It’s just the storm.”
“I know. I just want it all to stop.” He again tangled his hands in his hair.
“I know, Hunter. I know. Hey,” she said, ducking slightly to meet his eyes. “Let go, Hunter. It’s ok.”
He shook his head. “I need to- I’m not there, Willow.”
“You’re not,” she agreed. “You’re in the Human Realm, and you’re safe. It’s just me, and you, and we’re in Camila and Luz’s basement. There’s a storm outside, but everyone is safe.”
Bang!
Hunter’s hands clenched involuntarily, and he winced at the sharp tug at his scalp.
“Can you give me your hands?” Willow asked.
“I don’t know.” He trusted her. He did. But when his brain went Bad like this he doesn’t always like touch. Touch isn’t safe. But… loud isn’t safe either, and everything is still ok. “Can… can you just not grab me back?”
Willow nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“I don’t want to move.” Back to the wall is safe. Back to the wall means you can see everyone, and if you can see their expression, you can figure out when to shut the hell up.
“Do you want me to get closer?”
Hunter nodded.
Willow scooted over, side by side with Hunter, and offered her hands. He grasped at her palm, and, like he’d asked, her fingers didn’t close around his.
Warm. Steady. Safe. They were safe.
Bang!
“You are wrong, Hunter. You.”
“I can’t stop hearing him,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so far away and I still can’t stop. It’s like he’s still here. Every time I hear those Titan-cursed branches, it’s like he’s here.”
“I’ve got earmuffs upstairs,” Willow offered, but Hunter shook his head.
“Need to hear. Need to know.” If you can hear what he’s mad about, you can predict, and if you can predict, you know when to get out of the way.
“It’s just the storm. No one’s angry,” Willow soothed, but there was a sorrow in her eyes that seemed to be reserved for his flashbacks. For those things he said that the others could never relate to. They’d all been scared, they’d all fought horrible battles, but only he had fought them within his own home, and that made everyone so sad for some reason. “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re safe.”
“I know,” he sobbed. “But I can’t.”
“Ok, ok,” she said, and then, after a pause, “what if I just talked? Then you can still hear, just in case, but you’ll have a distraction?”
“Ok.”
“Ok.” And so she talked. She was good at it, Hunter had to admit. She told him the most random stories about her time at Hexside, some highlights of her learning to cook with Mrs. Noceda, and even some memories of her dads. (Hunter had to remind himself multiple times that Willow’s experience with parents was actually the norm, and it should not be surprising that her dads would be safe even when they were tired- and even, it seemed, when they were angry).
The storm didn’t die down, but Hunter’s panic did. He still flinched at each new sound, but he could think clearer. It was only the storm. The memories were just memories. He was safe.
“Willow?”
She cut herself off abruptly. “Yeah?”
“Can I… this is stupid. Can I lean against you?”
She smiled. “C’mere.”
His head dropped onto her shoulder. She was warm, solid, steady. Safe. So safe.
“Thanks for doing this.”
“Anytime.”
And so they sat, just like that. They sat for a while, listening to the storm, Willow carefully not reacting to Hunter’s flinches at the particularly loud collisions. But the rain drumming on the roof, constant and steady, made even Hunter’s adrenaline-filled body drowsy, and his eyes started to drift closed.
“Willow?” He murmured.
“Yeah, Hunter?”
“Was this- like, us right now -what home was supposed to feel like?”
He felt her pause under that question, and heard a thickness in her voice when she finally managed, “yeah. Yeah, it was.”
“I get why you want to go back so badly, then. I mean, other than saving everyone.”
“Do you… not?” Hunter shrugged, his shoulder bumping hers. “Don’t you miss it? Everything’s so different here.”
“’S safer here. Hard to miss… that.”
“I guess it is.”
And again they lapsed into silence, the tension finally leaving Hunter’s shoulders. Soon, there would be dinner. Soon, there would be laughter and energy and light. Soon they would resume this life unlike any he had known, and no one else seemed to bat an eye. “And upstairs, with everyone, when we have dinner… that’s what that was supposed to be like, too?” He asked.
“Yeah, Hunter, it was.”
“Hmm.”
“Where will you…” Willow seemed to think better of whatever she was asking. “If you need somewhere to stay when we go back, I can talk to my dads. You’d be safe there.”
“Would it be like here?”
“In the ways that matter.”
“Then maybe. I don’t know. Darius…” but then again, who knew if Darius was alive. Hell, who knew if Willow’s dads were alive? “Maybe,” he settled on, and Willow nodded, her head brushing his.
“Whatever will be, will be. But you’re not ever going to live like that again. I promise.”
Hunter laughed, a sharp short sound not fully in his control. “I don’t even fully get what ‘like that’ means.”
“I mean you’re going to be safe. Always.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“In a normal household? Yeah. I can.”
Hunter considered this a moment, studying the carpet. It was blue and fuzzy and a little rough. It was kinda nice. There was nothing blue and fuzzy in the castle. “That… that sounds nice. Being safe all the time. Sounds kinda like here. But I thought that was just because Mrs. Noceda is really nice.”
“No, Hunter. Mrs. Noceda is… normal. She’s normal nice. This is how adults are supposed to be.”
“So in most families… you’re safe? All the time?”
“Yeah.”
“Even when they’re tired?”
“Yeah.”
“Sick?”
“Yeah.”
“Taken over by a self-inflicted horrifying Palisman goo curse?”
“Titan, Hunter.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Yes, they should still be safe. You should’ve been safe.”
“Sometimes I really did mess up, though. And I knew even while I did it that I shouldn’t be doing it.”
“You still should’ve been safe.”
He furrowed his brows. “So your dads just… never get angry?”
Willow sighed. “No, they do, but… ok. Think about it like this. If Gus messed up- if he, I don’t know, burned dinner -how would you react?”
“I mean…” He thought it over. Thought about sweet little Gus, who always had a joke and a helping hand at the ready. “I’m sure he was trying his best. And it’s really not a huge deal, we can figure something else out. And even if we couldn’t, hurting him or scaring him wouldn’t fix anything. And he’s my friend. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to be scared. But Belos always said-”
“Hunter, forget about Belos. Everything you said? That’s how my parents were. That’s how parents should be. You shouldn’t be afraid of them.”
“Oh.” He stared again at the carpet, ran his fingers over a small coffee stain by his knee. “So… so they got mad, but you were still safe? And you knew you were safe?”
“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t like disappointing my parents. But from what you’ve told us, Belos shouldn’t have given a damn about half the stuff he ‘punished’ you for, and regardless he never should’ve laid a hand on you or used his size to scare you. That’s not right.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah…”
“So you don’t… you don’t get flashbacks? To stuff your parents have done?”
“No. I don’t.”
“But you get flashbacks.” He’d helped her through some just last week, when Mrs. Noceda had burnt the inside of her wrist on a pan and Willow’s brain had jumped to the Draining Spell.
“Yeah, to the scary stuff. My parents weren’t scary. Parents shouldn’t be scary.”
“So it was all wrong? Everything he did?”
“He wasn’t a good parent.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Then yes. He was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“But what about all the times he said he was proud of me for completing missions? What about all those times he celebrated my success, praised me to Kikimora? What about when he said he loved me?”
Willow sighed. “I guess… it’s complicated, Hunter. All of this is so… look. Belos said he loved you. But did he treat you the way you want to treat the people you love?”
“No. No! I don’t want to be anything like him!”
“And what was the alternative to him being proud and celebrating you?”
Hunter chewed his lip. “So I was supposed to be safe when he wasn’t proud of me? I wasn’t supposed to worry if the next mistake would be the last he’d tolerate?”
“No, Hunter. You should’ve been allowed to make a million mistakes and still have a safe, warm home to go back to.”
“Oh.”
They returned to silence, Hunter’s brain churning. Now it was making sense. The fearless way the others carried themselves. The way they talked to Mrs. Noceda, without even a hint of anticipation, of gauging reactions, of watching words. The way they could speculate on bad outcomes without even a mention of their parents’ potential reactions to hearing how they’d messed up. It was because they were still safe, even when that happened.
Hunter wished that wasn’t so foreign to him.
They sat in silence for a long time. Hunter must have fallen asleep at one point, because he awoke to gentle, soft, but insistent repetitions of his name. Willow smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s time for dinner. You ready?”
“Yeah, just, give me a second?”
She nodded, and he got off her arm so she could stand. He stayed on the carpet until she had ascended the stairs, then slowly, as if unsure his legs would hold him, rose to standing and walked over to the couch. He picked up the copy of Cosmic Frontier he’d been reading, tucking the bookmark more securely within its pages and setting it gently on the desk by the sewing machine. He’d have to wait another day to get to the twist.
He spun in a slow circle, taking in the basement. He’d done this when he’d first arrived, clocking hiding spots and exit routes, trying to gauge the degree to which he could hear the others moving through the house. How much warning would he have if someone was coming? How easily could he escape if the stairs were blocked? Where could he hide himself? Where could he hide Gus?
And then he’d never needed any of that information.
And then he realized Gus had never even bothered to learn that information.
And then he saw Luz’s expression when he mentioned that offhandedly, some mixture of horror and sadness and anger that he didn’t really want to dig deeper into. Now he knows, he supposes. Normal homes are safe all the time, not just when the adults are in a good mood. You don’t have to hide or be small or track people’s movements and moods.
So now he spun in his slow circle, taking in the basement in a new way.
The couch, where he and Gus had discussed Cosmic Frontier at length.
The sleeping bag on the floor, where he’d had his first uninterrupted sleep in years.
The sewing machine, which Mrs. Noceda was painstakingly and extremely patiently teaching him how to use, never once raising voice nor hand at him, not even when he’d tangled the threads so hopelessly they’d had to scrap an entire project.
The closet, which he’d once anticipated using for protection, but in reality had used for nothing more serious than a game of hide and seek.
And now, the wall, where he’d been distressed and stuck in the past and vulnerable, and had received nothing but affection and promises of even more safety in the future.
If this was a home, he understood the hype. And if it wasn’t- if this was all some weird fluke, if Willow was wrong and Mrs. Noceda was just oddly hospitable -then he would be forever grateful for this peace. And someday, when he had a house of his own, he’d try to recreate this.
Laughter. Rest. Patience. Fun. Warmth.
Safety.
Even amidst the storm, there was safety.
Hunter ascended the stairs to dinner without the briefest thought of what could go wrong. No, his only thought was how much fun he was going to have with his friends. Friends?
Family. His family. His home.
Where he was safe all the time.