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Avid fidgeted with the spider plush, they were trying, he was really trying to sleep. He was. It wasn’t— they knew— Marm would be upset if she found out he hadn’t slept all night, they didn’t want Marm to be upset. Maybe… No, no, he didn’t want to bother Water, especially because they had—
How was he supposed to end that statement? Because they had tried to drown him? He would’ve jumped in, he would’ve, he would’ve, he would’ve— or because he had kissed them. Oh god— They were screwed.
The spider plush felt heavy in his hands, the only light in Marm’s room came from the moon through her window, it wasn’t much. She was out cold, she’d been out when Avid had left Water’s room. They didn’t want to wake her up, he didn’t want to be a bother to either of them. They’d walked across the island to help him, despite the fact that— despite the fact that— that he had tried to drown Water. They pulled the hood further over his face, he missed their mask, they didn’t miss the mask, he missed the mask, they didn’t miss the mask—
It was too complicated, Avid was so tired. His hands were shaking from how often they’d cut— Marm and Water didn’t know that part, at least not yet. But Water had said that he didn’t think Avid should be alone right now.
A small whimper escaped his mouth. They were pathetic. They were selfish. They were… He was as bad as all of the people they had killed. He’d scared Graecie, Graecie would surely hate them… No, she wouldn’t, it wasn’t her nature, but she should. For her own safety, she should hate Avid, Avid just couldn’t… Couldn’t stand her hating them. Water couldn’t stand to look at them, as he had the right to, he had tried to drown them. Marm…
Marm should’ve killed him. It’s what he deserved, it’s what they deserved, it’s what they deserved, it’s what he deserved, it’s what— he really wanted to feel physical pain right now.
All the emotions were stacking and they felt numb, he just wanted to feel something, all he wanted was to feel something.
They’d never changed from that prince who sat on top of the tower.
He shuffled, the spider plush sitting in their lap, and he grabbed his book. They flipped through the pages, some of them stained with water damage from rain, or days when Avid couldn’t avoid swimming with it on them. The pages were worn, the ink was varying degrees of new, depending on how old the name was. And he stared at that first page where the hit list was. Their memory was bad, he couldn’t remember who to hate if he didn’t have their book. They scratched out Water’s name, Water considered him a friend— wanted to be his friend, despite the fact that they had tried to drown him.
It didn’t make sense. They didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve that forgiveness. The warmth the hugs he’d received, the patience when talking about their past. He’d never deserved that.
Had he wanted to fall? When they were on that tower. Had he wanted to fall?
His eyes scanned the page, they’d burnt down the windmill, surely the mill keeper deserved the same treatment.
Everything was so complicated now.
They flipped to the page he’d written in earlier, the one with his name. They stared at those letters, how had he forgotten? He’d loved him, he’d sent him to his death— had it been guilt? That had caused him to neglect to write his name in their book? Had it been the fact that they knew he’d never deserved him. Would never deserve him.
They really wanted to feel pain. He just wanted to feel alive. They never really felt alive. It hurt. Life hurt.
“Avid?” Marm’s voice was hoarse, “Are you alright.”
“I…” when had she woken up? God, he was already imposing, did they, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t.” Marm assured them, he didn’t deserve it, “I often wake in the night, but you didn’t answer the question.”
His throat felt tight, if they admitted it maybe Marm would finally see what an awful person he was. But they were selfish at his very core, and they didn’t want Marm to hate him. He didn’t want anyone to hate them. Not really. But they couldn’t make a noise. He felt choked out, they normally liked that, not when it wasn’t physical. It was like Marm’s magic, or when Water had made a jab that was the truth that Avid hadn’t wanted to admit.
“Hey,” She got up, walking over to where Avid sat on his bed. Her eye caught on where Avid’s hand had been gripping the paper, “It’s alright.”
It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t—
“Can I hug you?” She asked quietly,
They didn’t deserve it, but he nodded. Marm was warm, her grip was tight despite being exhausted, it was protective. Avid cried for the millionth time that day, they were really sick of crying. Tears didn’t make up for everything they’d done, tears didn’t bring him back, tears didn’t apologize to Graecie, to Water, to Marm. Tears didn’t change how Avid didn’t want to die but wanted to hurt, tears didn’t change that they knew he deserved the opposite. To hate pain and to be killed. They deserved to be dead. Why was Marm so kind to him?
She’d said everyone deserves kindness, no they didn’t. Avid didn’t deserve it.
“It’s going to be alright.” She kept whispering, “You’re okay, Avid.”
They weren’t okay, he was okay, they hated pretending that he was, but that suffering was what he deserved. Funny how that worked.
“I… I’m sorry.” Avid’s voice broke, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” they must’ve said it a thousand more times.
Marm was warm, or maybe Avid was just cold.
That stayed in a cycle, Marm said it would be okay, Avid apologized. Fucked up cycle it was, in a damn academy that made Avid pause, and they had to come to terms with everything he’d done. First few hugs in fifteen years, Marm seemed to have made it her mission to remedy that, or at least, that’s what it felt like.
The book had crinkled pages where Avid’s hands had gripped too tightly on that one page. With his name. How had they let himself forget it for so long.
“Hey,” Marm whispered, not pulling away, how was she not disgusted with them? “Breathe, it’s okay, Avid. You’re safe.”
They were safe. Why did that feel like a massive difference?
That didn’t stop the spiraling, it didn’t make Avid sleep easier, and it didn’t fix anything. But the hiccuping sobs became steadier breaths, and Marm didn’t let them go. Marm was warm. Avid was cold.
Avid didn’t really sleep that night—something that was not exactly remedied, but corrected, seeing as they passed out on the secret library couch when they went to study with Marm—but Marm didn’t let them be alone.