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"I don't need friends, I need—" The edges of Nom's vision darkens. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, following his every step. “I need to fix it."
He ignores the way his voice breaks at the end, hating the way his chest twists as the dredges of conflict linger just beneath his skin from his fight with Graecie. The echoes of her voice, shrill and betrayed, ring in his head alongside the crunch of his footsteps through the forest.
He shakes his head. He doesn't have time to think about that, he doesn't—
"I need to find 4c." Nom says, low under his breath as he hurries through the underbrush. "I need—"
"Oh." The sound of a familiar voice stops Nom in his tracks. "Hey Nom."
"Hey Scott." Nom responds automatically, steps slowing as he comes to the end of the hill, right where he can see most of the Blue Kingdom. "Do you know where 4c is?"
"Em…" Nom turns towards the direction of Scott's voice, only to be met with empty space even as Scott continues speaking. "I think he was over towards Red Kingdom, last I'd seen him—"
Nom frowns, staring right at where he swears the voice is coming from. "Are you invisible right now?"
"Oh– Sorry." A sheepish laugh, a sound akin to shattering glass and Scott appears, just an inch or so off to the left of where Nom was looking. "Hah… I have a habit of doing that."
Nom stares at Scott.
Scott just looks back with the faintest smile on his face. He tips his head to one side. "What's up?"
"I…" Nom inhales sharply. He turns away. "I just need—" Nom shakes his head, turning back towards where he can see the Blue Kingdom. "I just need to find 4c. I just—" He looks back at Scott. "Where did you say he was?"
"He was over at the Red Kingdom, um—" Scott peers at him, eyes searching. "I can help you look for him if you want."
"No, it's—" Nom shakes his head rapidly. "It's okay, I— I need to talk to him. Alone. Just— Right now, I think."
A pause. Out of the peripheral of his view, Nom sees that Scott hasn't stopped staring at him.
"Okay… You…" Something in Scott shifts. Nom steps back, believing that shift to be indicative of Scott seeing more than he should when looking at him even as he asks, quieter this time, "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm— I'm okay, I just—" Nom turns away. His lungs tighten with urgency. "I need to find 4c, Scott, I need—"
"…Nom."
Nom snaps his mouth shut.
A breeze sweeps through then, rustling the leaves of the trees all them. Scott is somewhere behind him so the only thing that tips him off to any kind of expression is his voice until he steps into Nom's line of sight with his eyes locked onto his face.
Nom tenses, standing as still as he can while Scott observes him. He doesn't know what Scott sees and he's almost… He's almost afraid to know.
"…If you really need to find 4c, you will." Scott says after some time, with that same kind of confidence that shows up so quietly yet surely from time to time. "Just… Um." Scott looks off to one side."My… My cottage is just down the hill. If I call for him and you two can use my cottage to chat."
"Hah—" Nom shakes his head. "Your cottage is too close to the castle for comfort I'll be so real with you—"
He realizes too late that mentioning the castle as a point of concern might be more telling than it should be: It implies that whatever he needs to say to 4c can't be heard by the people within it which includes the Monarch and what could he possibly have to say that can't be heard by the Monarch, that's damning in of itself.
But Scott either doesn't notice this implication or he doesn't point it out.
Either way, when he reaches forwards and takes one of Nom's hands in between his own—
Nom's mind stutters to an absolute stop.
"Then it'll be a good point to meet." Scott counteracts. "I'm close to the mountains and the forests. Once he gets here, the two of you can go off as far as you need to."
Nom bites the inside of his cheek. Scott's suggestion is sound and it does make the most amount of sense for him to stay in one place while 4cvit comes but…
…The idea of being still for even a moment.
Even now, as he stands here, in the serene shade of the forest with one hand in that of a mage who seems to just know how to make things quieter by virtue of existing, there's a restlessness beneath his skin as his heartbeat pounds in his chest, hard enough that he's fully convinced that Scott can hear it.
Just sit for a bit. Rest a moment.
"Come on." Scott prompts him gently when he takes too long to answer, giving his hand a little tug in the direction of the cottage. "What's the rush?"
Nom inhales sharply as every fiber of his being rejects the very thought because how could he just sit for a bit?
Graecie betrayed his trust while claiming that the only person he can trust beyond that of relational matters because he literally and tangibly killed for this person is the only other option for who could've done this.
He can't sit until he knows. He can't rest until he knows for certain.
It's just not safe until he does.
It's not.
And yet—
"…Okay." Nom finds himself agreeing because he's never claimed to be all that strong, especially in the face of... well.
Scott.
Scott, who rewards his agreement with a small, pleased smile before pulling him forwards and down the hill. Silently, Nom just follows, marveling all the while at the stark difference in how things have been going in the last ten minutes.
It's hard to think that only minutes ago, he was yelling at and getting yelled at by Graecie. His stomach twists at the memory as Scott quietly unlatches the door to his cottage and pulls him in but it's hard to be on edge when the cottage, like Scott, emanates such an air of quiet peace.
Inside, it's a comforting kind of warm. The space is cozy in how small and lived in it is, with little bits of Scott visible everywhere Nom looks: From the greenhouse attachment and the apparent care that can be seen in the flourishing plants inside to the little packets of seeds littering the counters and tables or the various cloaks, gloves, or books strewn across wherever they might fit.
Nom looks and the stray thought of, you don't belong in a place like, crosses his mind. At that, the feeling of comfort sours.
"Make yourself comfortable." Scott says, giving Nom's hand a squeeze before letting it go, leaving it cold in his absence. "I'll just be making us some tea, okay?"
Nom nods faintly, lingering in the doorway as Scott walks away. It doesn't feel right to step fully inside to make himself comfortable, worried as he is that the violence he seems to carry with him no matter what he does or tries will shatter this sacred place where everything can be okay for a single, fleeting moment.
If Scott knew: Would he still be this kind towards Nom? Would he still be this trusting?
Or would he run the moment he knew of the ease in which he snapped at someone as kind as Graecie just because he jumped to a conclusion or of the blood staining his hands?
"Nom."
At the call, Nom startles, flinching backwards against the door. His focus– Which had previously been on the ground at some point– snaps up just in time to see surprise flicker across Scott's face, followed by a wash of concern.
There's a second where Nom barely dares to breathe, all too aware of how this must look.
"…Sorry." Scott chuckles after a bit, awkward and forced. "For um. Startling you."
Nom stares at Scott, all but vibrating from all the thoughts and feelings he wouldn't know how to begin voicing. He swallows thickly and shakes his head, dismissing the apology.
"It's fine." Nom says, voice tight.
The look that Scott gives him is doubtful at best and Nom winces. But even if Scott asks, Nom wouldn't know what to say that wouldn't mean confessing to something that would likely kick him out from this space and he—
Nom bites the inside of his cheek and looks away.
He's never been a particularly selfish man but on this…
Is it so wrong to want a place away from it all? To be in the company of someone so clueless, someone who knows nothing about him and can therefore make no judgments?
The answer is more obvious than he'd like.
"Would you like to come in? More, that is?" Scott asks, the sound of his voice breaking Nom from his thoughts. Looking back at Scott, Nom sees him gesture towards where a table with two mugs sit with chairs pulled out. "You can relax for a bit while I send a pigeon to 4c."
"Oh." Nom's shoulders tense. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, sure I'd… Mm. Coming in, got it."
His feet feel clumsy as he steps inside. The back of his neck prickles with the weight of Scott's eyes but nothing is said as Scott slips out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Sitting down gingerly like the chair might break beneath the weight of his armor and everything that isn't soft or kind about him, Nom attempts to settle down, reaching out and clasping the white mug before him between the palms of his hands. The heat from the steaming tea inside permeates through and warms his hands, which he hadn't noticed was actually freezing prior to being made known by the temperature difference.
Distantly, that sense of wrongness remains, refusing to abate even as Nom remains where he is, staring unblinkingly at the surface of his tea, surrounded by a kind of comfort and warmth he can't be sure he deserves.
Similarly, he still feels that urgency in his veins, the fluttery panic of knowing that someone told Katie and therefore remains capable of telling everyone and anyone who cares to know about what he did, what he is, and so on.
But even as both of those states remain true, he still can't shake off the weight that keeps him right where he is, selfishly indulging in this excuse to just…
Sit.
Maybe even breathe a little.
The door clicks open. Nom jumps, his eyes snapping open from where he'd been on his way to falling asleep sitting up.
"Alright." Scott closes the door behind him. "I sent out the pigeon so… 4c will be on his way soon and if you don't… feel comfortable speaking here, there is plenty of space in the forest for the two of you."
Nom's shoulders fall. He could almost collapse into the table and right into his mug of tea from the release of tension just hearing the confirmation that this whole nightmare is on its way to being figured out brought on.
"Ah." A breathless laugh escapes him. "Good. Thank you Scott. Truly."
Scott shakes his head as he slides into the seat across from Nom, hands reaching for his own mug of tea. "It's no problem. Promise."
With that, the conversation dies down. Nom finally lifts his mug to take a sip from it at the same time that Scott does, his eyes slipping shut to bask in the way the warmth travels down from his throat to his stomach to settle comfortably like a blanket.
Across from him Scott stays quiet and the silence is companionable the way silences around Scott often are: An assurance rather than an obligation. But as time passes and Nom keeps catching the way Scott's eyes flick to him again and again, the irises alight with questions so palpable it's humorous—
"…You can ask." Nom says with a half-amused chuckle. "I know you want to."
"Ah— Um." Scott smiles sheepishly. "I don't… I wouldn't want to force you."
Nom shakes his head, dismissing the concern. The idea of Scott forcing anything from him is comedic in of itself. "You wouldn't be."
"Okay." Scott taps his fingers against his mug. "So. Um. What's… what's up?"
Despite giving the permission for Scott to ask, Nom still sucks in a sharp breath before blowing it all out slowly.
What a loaded question despite it's simplicity. For a while, Nom fumbles for the best way to answer that question without ruining the moment, without breaking the last good thing he'll have for a while if things go as he expects them to now that Katie knows, only to settle on a rather pitiful—
"…A lot." Nom says. He laughs at just how much of an understatement that is before he shakes his head again. "It's fine though."
From his peripheral, Nom sees Scott frown.
"Is it?" He asks.
Nom jolts. He turns back to Scott, who's staring at him, eyes piercing yet searching at the same time.
"I just…" Scott looks down. "When I first saw you. You looked so…"
Nom barely dares to breathe as Scott stops, his brow furrowing as he finds the best way to finish that sentence. His chest tightens with each second of silence, unsure of what to be expecting—
What did he look like, after that fight with Graecie?
What did he—
Scott looks up. Nom's breath catches at the pained shine in his eyes.
"You looked so scared, Nom." Scott says softly.
Nom's eyes widen.
"I've also never seen you so stressed." Scott continues, his voice quiet and heavy with a kind of concern Nom doesn't know what to do with. "Even right now, you look so relieved to be sitting but you still seem so… on edge."
Nom blinks, dumbfounded. "Oh."
"And– And, I want to help if I can but I won't know if I can or not if I don't…" Scott pauses, mouth open as he searches for the right way to finish. "If I don't know. You know?"
"I—" Nom turns away. "Yeah, yeah, that's… yeah. I just—"
His hands are trembling around the mug from the conflict born from a knee-jerk reaction to someone worrying about him and that weak, pathetic urge to melt into a puddle because someone is worried about him.
But no matter how much stronger the latter urge is than the former, a simple fact remains—
Scott's concern and care is based upon false premises, upon a false understanding of who he is.
And as much as Nom would like to keep it that way… With Katie knowing, it's only a matter of time until everyone does so the question becomes—-Would Nom like Scott to find out on his own or does he want to say for himself?
"It's just... I don't…" Nom drifts off, only to laugh again, for a lack of anything better to do. "I just…"
The rest of his words fades again, leaving him fumbling for a way to explain himself without revealing too much. Across from him, Scott leans forwards onto his elbows in patient anticipation.
"…don't want to change your opinion of me." Nom ends up finishing weakly.
Scott's brows raise. Nom looks away.
For a moment, he thinks that might be it: Scott sees that there's no path forwards when it comes to this line of dialogue and lets the conversation die off until 4c comes.
Until, Scott abruptly scoots his chair forwards. The table wasn't very wide to begin with so Nom really shouldn't have been surprised when Scott's knees knock into his before slotting perfectly in between them, pressing their thighs from knees down to ankles, followed by Scott reaching forwards and taking both of Nom's hands in between his own.
Nom inhales sharply, startled by the contact yet finding himself entirely unopposed to it because it's so…
His mind fumbles for the best way to describe each point of contact as well as for an explanation for the way his chest constricts with the desire to get closer.
It's just… nice. It's really nice, actually.
"Nom." Scott says, with a kind of meaningful weight that sends a shudder down Nom's spine. His grip on Nom's hands tighten. "Do you trust me?"
Nom tenses at the question, flinching at the very notion but the moment he looks up at Scott—
He deflates. His shoulders fall but his eyes stay on Scott, unwilling or maybe even unable to look away, captivated as he is by the softness of Scott's silhouette and the gentle golden gleam of his hair.
"…I do." Nom says quietly.
The answer comes so easily, it's hard to believe that he doubted what he'd say to begin with.
"Then trust me to make the decision on whether or not my opinion changes in a way that's fair to you." Scott says with a surprising amount of firmness. "So don't…"
Nom watches as Scott stops, his shoulders falling with a heavy sigh.
"Don't take that choice from me." Scott says softly, his voice burdened with the kind of exhausted weight that comes from repeated experience.
Nom's breath catches. "Ah."
He's been such a fool, wallowing in his own misfortune without considering what or how his actions are impacting others— How could he forget about Scott and the countless choices about his life that has been taken from him?
Which means the least Nom can do now is… tell Scott what happened.
It's not like there's much else to lose at this point besides Scott which might happen either way.
"Well. Um." Nom looks away. "I don't remember what I told you, exactly, about me and 4c because apparently, I've been bad at keeping track and it's, ah–" He laughs, self-deprecating and humorless. "It's come back to bite me in my ass."
"Hm." Scott hums. "In what way?"
"Um. I suppose honor." Nom looks down. "I always tell it in a way that's… better than what actually happened."
"Mhm." Scott hums again, acknowledging and gently prompting at once.
"I…" Nom closes his eyes. "There was a bounty on 4c's head. That was true. I went out with fifteen knights for 4c, that was also true. It's just, um—"
A scattering of static ripples through his nervous system. Nom inhales, only for the breath to get stuck somewhere along the way.
He opens his eyes. "Um."
There's a squeeze around his hands. It's then that Nom realizes that they're trembling, held steady and secure only by that of Scott's firm grasp.
"What I… didn't say is that... the other knights." Nom continues haltingly. "They wanted 4c dead. For stealing."
Scott hums again. "That's extreme."
"Yeah." The word leaves on a laugh, breathless in the ease in which it escapes. "Yeah, that's what I thought too and when I… tried to say—"
Nom stops. His heart pounds in his chest, a thundering melody in the silence that takes up the space where words should be.
Scott stays quiet, patiently waiting for Nom to collect himself once more.
Closing his eyes, Nom inhales deeply, enough that he can feel the air hit the bottom of his lungs. He exhales it all out. Opens his eyes.
"…I swore an oath." Nom says, voice low. "And a knight's oath is a very hefty thing. I went to that swamp without thinking that that'd be the place where I'd… break it. But when those knights lifted their swords, I— I couldn't just—"
A wave of nausea washes over him and Nom jerks back, suddenly overwhelmed with a sickness towards himself and the very idea that by staying here and letting Scott touch him, he's ruining the nature mage as well—
Only for Scott to tighten his grip, using it to pull himself forwards and up onto his feet, where he lets go of Nom's hands to reach forwards, arms outstretched and—
The world shrinks down to be nothing but the sweet, airy scent of lilies.
Instinctively, Nom melts, folding into the embrace wrapped around him, trusting that Scott can hold him up until he remembers what preceded this moment and he tenses, wary once more about what all of this could mean.
Scarily, Scott doesn't say a word. He doesn't give any verbal reaction to what Nom has confessed to.
But he does hold Nom closer, tucking his head under his chin with a hand cradling the back and an arm around his shoulders like Nom was always meant to be there, surrounding him in a kind of warmth that feels like acceptance all the same.
And Nom—
His breath hitches. He tenses, clamping his mouth shut when his throat constricts and the bridge of his nose burns.
He wants to believe— He wants to believe this so badly.
Every part of him wants to. The contact is filling a void he hadn't even been aware was present until it was acknowledged, dissatisfied as it's been by all other forms of contact it would seem whether that be the well-intentioned claps on his shoulder or the sideway squeezes from time to time, rendering him with a bone-deep urge to press in further, to hold on until he feels okay again, if only for a single fleeting moment.
He wants to give in. He wants to step into that surrender, into the kind of security that comes with trusting that someone else has got him for even a moment but how can he?
How can he?
And if not how can he, then how could he?
How could Nom deserve such a thing after all that he's done? How could he possibly believe that Scott doesn't see him any differently now?
"…You wanna know what I think?"
The quiet timbre of Scott's voice draws him out of his thoughts. He can feel the vibration against his face and collarbone.
Nom opens his eyes to listen, staring aimlessly past Scott's shoulder.
"I… I think you've punished yourself more than enough by now." Scott finishes quietly.
Nom blinks.
The words settle over him like the soft splattering of rain, gentle and soothing, even as some distant voice in his head wonders if that could even be possible— If any of this could be possible.
If it could be possible that an oathbreaker such as himself could still be met with such understanding and acceptance, that someone could stand before him and still look at him with all the goodwill that they did before if not more but—
It's hard to be disbelieving when it's right here, right before him.
Nom's eyes fall closed, his jaw clenched to keep from crying.
He refuses to, fearing that crying might break this moment even as he allows himself to fall forwards and tuck his head against Scott's shoulder, burying his face in the soft fabric of Scott's clothing and the smell of lilies.
But if, at Scott gathering him impossibly closer, creating a the firm, secure hold around his shoulders that prompts Nom to finally return the embrace with an embarrassing kind of urgency, a few tears escape with the long, trembling exhale that leaves Nom—
Neither of them says anything about it.
After some time, Scott pulls back though his hands remain on Nom's face. His eyes are searching as they peer at Nom, appraising. He cards a hand through Nom's bangs, causing a pleasant shudder to go down his spine.
"You should take a moment to rest." Scott murmurs. "Let's go up onto the loft."
Nom blinks. His heart abruptly leaps into his throat. "But 4c—"
His vision is abruptly filled with nothing but a the warm column of Scott's neck and the fluffy ends of his hair as Scott leans forwards to press his lips to his forehead, a soft, brief, yet meaningful point of contact that has his words stuttering in his throat.
Nom snaps his mouth shut as his face flushes and his insides all but melts.
"I'll wake you when he arrives." Scott says, pulling back to meet Nom's eyes once more, brushing a thumb beneath his eyes. "Promise."
Nom stares at Scott for a long moment.
Some part of him still feels as though every little thing about this situation is wrong: Like he's indulging too much, he's taking too much, so on, but at this point… Nom's becoming rather tired of resisting.
"Okay." He agrees.
At that, Scott rewards Nom with a soft smile before he's pulling back, just enough to take Nom by the hands and pull him up onto his feet.
Then it's like Nom blinked and all of a sudden, he's made it up the ladder to be on Scott's bed where Scott is settling back against the pillows and opening his arms for Nom to fall into.
"Won't my armor bother you?" Nom asks.
Scott shakes his head. "Not at all. No more than it does you, if you were to lay down."
Nom hums, thoughtful. He doesn't really want to get too comfortable while there are still things to do but… there are a few pieces he could probably take off that would be easy to put on again later.
Sooner than he'd expect, Nom is falling onto Scott's bed, small as it is for two people— Not that it matters, given how closely he tucks against Scott's side despite being slightly taller and larger with knightly bulk and whatnot.
Sliding his arms around Scott's waist while Scott wraps his arms securely around his shoulders in turn with a hand on the back of his neck, once Nom settles, satisfied by the warmth and comfort that surrounds him, he breathes in deeply, basking in the smell of lilies and the feel of Scott's chest rising and falling evenly against his own.
Before letting that breath go along all the tension he held in his limbs for all this time.
Nom doesn't remember the last time he's experienced something like this: Held so securely against another, surrounded by that pleasant pressure of another's touch with the assurance that he doesn't need to carry himself on his own anymore.
And maybe it's because of that fact that Nom ends up falling asleep without meaning to, tucking himself away into that space between Scott's chest and the mattress, burying his face into the smell of lilies as he's carried away by a warm haze born from the rhythmic manner in which Scott cards his fingers through his hair and the steady beat of the heart beneath him.
~~~
Soon after Nom's breathing evened out against his chest, indicating that he's fallen asleep, the space before Scott's bed fills with a presence that wasn't there before. As carefully as he can without disturbing Nom, Scott looks up.
It's impressive how it still takes his eyes a moment to focus properly on 4cvit, even when he's crouched right before him, perched precariously on the end of his bed.
The echoes of a brief but recent conversation plays in his mind from the cottage porch.
"You were in the castle." Scott says, more as a statement than a question or accusation. He doesn't ask if 4cvit heard him and Nom's entire conversation up until this point: It hardly matters either way.
Before him, the rogue nods. "Yeah."
A breath of silence.
"I don't…" 4cvit turns away. "I don't know how to do any of this. So you're probably better at this."
Scott's brows raise. His breath catches. "Really?"
There's a trust being given here— One that Scott didn't expect he'd get because as much as he's felt like he's gotten close to Nom, he'd be pretty presumptuous to think that he's anything to Nom like how 4cvit is.
"Yeah. So… Um." 4cvit takes half a step back. "I'll just… be around if he actually does need me."
Scott bites the inside of his cheek. His heart flutters, nervous in his chest but he nods. "Alright."
Right before his eyes, 4cvit disappears but not before Scott feels something be slipped from his pockets in a manner that felt purposeful, like it was meant to be felt. Upon checking, he sees that it wasn't anything materialistically valuable on his person.
Just one of the many flowers from his pouch.
Scott watches as 4cvit steps forwards on silent feet and the faintest rustle of cloth, eyes focused on Nom's sleeping form, curled as he is against Scott's chest, face tucked away so that very little could be seen and what little was visible is covered by swaths of dark hair.
Staying quiet, Scott watches as 4cvit comes to a stop beside the bed, his expression unreadable as he peers down at Nom.
4cvit looks up, making eye contact with Scott briefly.
Scott meets 4cvit's eyes evenly despite not really knowing what 4cvit wants from him.
It doesn't seem to matter because whatever 4cvit sees, it appears to satisfy him because he looks away where, in a flash of barely visible movement, there's a faint rattle as Nom's bag of farkle dice is snagged off of his person before 4cvit disappears again.
Scott stares at the space 4cvit once was before exhaling a soft sigh and looking down at Nom.
What the knight confessed… Scott can see how it led to everything just now and what he overheard as well when he was invisible. And maybe he should be more concerned or worried or even frightened at the notion of holding someone capable of killing fifteen knights but…
It's Nom.
Scott knows Nom. Hell, Scott saw for himself just moments ago how much the incident weighs on him, how much the lives taken was not out of malice.
That being said, he still doesn't know why he's the one Nom is wholeheartedly trusting like this. He doesn't know how he's the one who got Nom to quiet down, especially after his altercation with Graecie but…
As he settles down for a little nap as well, Scott supposes it doesn't matter, really.
He is and that's what matters.
And so long as he is and Nom wants him to be, Scott will be here.
He'll be here.