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Jesper had assured Wylan that the heist would be small and insignificant, just a few extra kruge they could all use. Jesper squeezed one hand of his lover, the other placed softly on his back.
“A little heist in the south of Kerch”
He had reassured Wylan, rubbing circles on the merchlings back as he essentially spiraled into panic. Wylan hadn’t been alone since he had met the crows, and stress that he would be left behind, fending to himself plagued him. Kaz didn’t see it as necessary to have demolitions on the little heist, so Wylan would stay behind. On the cold, unforgiving streets of Ketterdam.
Wylan liked Jesper a lot- hell he maybe even loved him, but he still had big walls built up from his father. He still looked at Jesper with anxiety as he spoke, worrying that the crows were simply using him, worrying that he was just a minor piece to the plan.
However, when Jesper touched Wylan, cupped his hand to the merchlings face, or simply detangled his curls, Wylan almost melted everytime, into a gooey mess of appreciation.
The heist was small, as Jesper had said, but every word he spoke made Wylan dive into a deeper and deeper spiral. Wylan searched around him, looking for something to distract him as Jesper unravelled the plan in front of him. Jesper's words blurred as Wylan stopped paying attention.
“Wylan?”
He asked, cupping that loving warm hand over the other boy's face.
“Sorry”
Muttered Wylan, meeting those beautiful grey eyes which Jesper had inherited from his father, he melted a little looking at his lover. “I’m leaving tonight, it will all be ok.” Jesper spoke with a soft grin, yet Wylan could not break from the mental gymnastics which were circling inside of his mind.
“I’ll protect you, ok? I’ll make sure you have warmth for the winter. I promise Wy.”
Wylan didn’t necessarily love being infantilised in this way by others, but he’d let it slide just this once as the sweetness emanating from Jesper was quelling Wylan’s fears, if not for just a moment.
“Ok”
Wylan replied, with a soft smile - one that wasn’t genuine. Jesper smiled back, exiting his crouching position, and disappearing into the vivid crowds of Ketterdam, leaving Wylan to himself.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A short mission- was what Wylan reassured to himself, as he blew notes into his flute, busking for a few unspent kruge of passerbys, playing melodies from his mind.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it -more so he didn’t see the ridiculous smirk on Jesper’s face - Wylan very much did miss the taller boy's presence. Winter was roaring on in the distance, and all Wylan had were rain soaked cobblestones, and the spare kruge that tourists and the wealthy would drop into his flute case.
He counted the days which Jesper was gone.
One.
Three.
Six.
Suddenly, they began to blend into one another, becoming longer and longer, and the wintery winds began to whip around Wylan more and more, and the vivacious crowds died out as they began to huddle around brick fireplaces, with mugs of steaming tea and freshly brewed hot chocolate.
Wylan had camped out in many spots for hours upon hours, playing his flute, sometimes drawing in crowds, other times drawing in nothing but people glaring at the poor merchant’s son. The amount of money he has collected was insignificant, a number so small he could barely even feed himself. He felt his body wearing thin and weak as he ceased to eat to save the small amount of kruge he could.
He reassured himself - it was okay. Jesper would return, and shelter him- harbour him from the harsh wind and storms that were floating above Ketterdam, threatening Wylan and anyone else that got in front of it. After weeks? - he lost count at this point- he further grew weary, winter was no longer brushing his fingertips and blowing his hair out of his face, at this point it was swirling rapidly all around him, causing Wylan’s weak body to go even more fragile.
Finally, Wylan packed away his flute, carefully placing the silver instrument he had owned for years back into its case, stashing away the measly few kruge that people dared to spare into his satchel. He felt his body weak, as he walked the streets of Ketterdam, his fingertips cold, and his body so frail that his coat and several layers were failing to warm him.
He missed Jesper and the promises of warmth he provided. He missed the crows. He missed his mama. As he was about to collapse, he finally reached the slat, pushing the heavy door open with all of his might, stumbling over his feet, as he saw a familiar brown haired heartrender.
“Nina!”
Wylan called with panic, a flush of relief flooding over him as he saw her. They were back in Ketterdam, drinking. Wylan scanned over the room, the crows were scattered around it.
Nina, Matthias, Inej.. Kaz.
He scanned further, but couldn’t see Jesper. “Wy” she replied with a soft smile bringing the merchling into a soft embrace. He pulled away with a soft smile, still scanning over Nina’s tall frame for any sign of Jesper. Concern laced Nina’s eyes, “Are you ok-”
“Have-have you seen Jesper”
He interrupted, still frantically searching the room for his lover to appear, to hold him, to shelter him from the cold. “Ghezen Wylan, your freezing- uh-uh I think he went to the Crow Club, but-”
Without letting her speak another word, Wylan rushed out the door as quickly as he could, his knees shaking from weakness. He couldn’t recall the last time he ate, his body shivered in the winter air as he made his way towards the Crow Club. The streets seemed to not favour him, as they filled with tourists and locals, shoving past Wylan, as his body began to tremble further and further.
“Jesper!” Wylan called as loud as his fragile body could muster, but it was like screaming into a void with all of the people around him, he clenched onto his coat and satchel, attempting to warm himself as wind battered at his face.
“Jesper” he yelled out again, as tears stung in his eyes, salty and wet prickling down his cheeks as he attempted to get closer to the club. His subconscious told him to give up, a part of him knew he was never making it to the crow club, that the sounds of gambling, and chips moving across poker boards, and slams of anger when patrons would lose bets would drown out Wylan’s calls for his lover, yet he prevailed.
As he finally edged towards the club, his body gave up on him, his flute rolling out of his satchel as his body plummeted to the cobblestoned streets of Ketterdam, his body shook from the cold as his breathing slowed and he felt his weeks of hunger and cold finally catch up to him.
A surge of sadness, and perhaps resentment hit him - ‘I promise, Wy’ - Jesper’s words replayed through his mind like a horrible taunt, as he succumbed to his body giving up on him. Jesper’s words that he once cherished teased and mocked him, as in one last pathetic attempt, he called his lover's name once more, but he never came.
Wylan felt himself fading as suddenly-
“Son?”
A familiar voice called, one of harshness, one Wylan knew to be filled with hatred and resentment towards him. He craned his head up slightly with all of the energy he could muster, to see his father standing above him, the moonlight casting him to appear as a silhouette. Wylan's eyes were blurry and giving up on him. “Father?”
He croaked out, as another man- a healer, stood over Wylan, and he immediately felt his body go warm and less frail.
“Oh, Wylan, what has that horrible Brekker done to you. You see son, I’ve regretted all I’ve ever said in regards to you, you are truly the Van Eck heir. To see what the horrible Brekker has done, it fills me with anger”
The words were soft and kind, not the words of his father, but his papa- the man he once knew, when mama was still with them, and when his father hadn’t learnt his son couldn’t read.
Van Eck tutted over Wylan, “You see, look how thin and lifeless that Brekker and his gang has made my son! Luring him in just to throw him out into the streets like a poor stray cat” he hissed Kaz’s name as if it were derogatory.
In his state of fragility, the words felt so sincere to Wylan. All of the memories blurring into one. Suddenly, his father and his accomplices had lifted Wylan off the cobblestone of Ketterdam, and they took him by the arm, taking the fragile merchling back to the Van Eck manor. “Come on son, we'll shelter you from the winter that Kaz Brekker has so generously thrown you into”
Wylan’s eyes closed as his body and its impending weakness finally gave up. He thought of his lover- Jesper’s grey eyes, and the way they would glitter as he faded into slumber.
The only thing left of Wylan Van Eck in that street was his flute.