Chapter Text
Chase Hollow was supposed to be at dance practice with Simon right now.
Actually, scratch that. Chase Hollow was supposed to be in a book right now, getting to spend some much-needed quality time with his kind-of-boyfriend-but-we-haven’t-actually-labeled-it-yet-but-close-enough, along with his cousin and the kid. Except Aunt Beth apparently needed Deacon to come over earlier in the week than usual to “go through his closet and do some much-needed clothes shopping so he has some practical clothing for the fall semester” (which Chase opted out of joining; it was better for everyone involved). This would’ve been no problem, normally. Chase had done plenty of books without Dorkin in the past; he and Prunella could gather some narratonin on their own easy-peasy.
The actual problem was that, after Bronze had accidentally tagged along on a weekly trip to Deacon’s house, Silver and Goldie felt very left out and had spent the better part of an afternoon making puppy-dog eyes and pleading with the Hollow cousins to let them visit Deacon’s house as well. They swore up and down that they would stay hidden and not wander off, and be “very proper house guests”. Chase had tried to stand his ground, but he was unfortunately wrapped around Silver’s tiny little metallic finger so tightly that he was surprised it hadn’t popped right off her hand. So that was that; Silver and Goldie were literally jumping with excitement at the notion of “getting to see Deacon’s wardrobe through the years”, and Bronze wanted to join as well to “make observations”. They were entertained by the strangest things sometimes, in Chase’s opinion. Maybe going clothes shopping is the most exciting thing in the world when you’re five inches tall and spent your whole life cooped up inside a library; he wouldn’t know.
Because of all this, Chase had decided to spend his suddenly free afternoon getting some dance practice in, then possibly hitting up the diner with a handful of friends afterwards, and maybe a used-book bookstore on the way home.
Instead, Chase Hollow was running from two very shady-looking men (actually, one of them might’ve been a woman; he wasn’t entirely sure) through the alleyways, grasping a certain cicada-shaped jar in his hands.
It had only been about a week or two ago when Chase had tried to glean some more info on how Ex Libris had treated the keys while in their possession. It’s not that he needed more reasons to feel sorry for the keys — he had already decided to make up for everything Ex Libris had deprived them of, but he had a question nagging at the back of his mind.
They had been gathered in the tower, Deacon idly sorting through books to do for the day while Chase sat on the floor, mulling over his question.
“Chase, is something wrong?” He must have been making some sort of face while doing so, because it had apparently made Silver concerned enough to ask him directly.
He looked down at Silver, before glancing to the side. “Yeah, I was just…wondering…and sorry if this is…personal, but I just…wanted to ask…” his rambling was paused with a cough. “I mean, I know the keyrings make you stay in your key form, but…” Chase had trailed off, not wanting to bring back bad memories for the keys and also now unsure if he wanted to know the answer.
However, Chase’s question had piqued Deacon’s interest, who sensed his cousin’s hesitation and finished the thought for him. “…are you asking if they forced them into their key forms, too?”
The three keys went quiet as Chase nodded, glancing at each other before looking down at the ground. Chase already felt bad for bringing it up in the first place, but now he felt just awful.
Silver was the first to speak. “They…they did, yes. They would ask us to change into our key forms so they could put the keyring back on, but if we did not…comply…”
“…they made us change into them by force.” Bronze had a certain glint in his eye that Chase had never seen before, and he was suddenly very glad that the key was only five inches tall. Had he been any bigger, Chase was sure he would’ve tried making quick work of any Ex Libris members who had dared to be so cruel to his siblings.
He was about to ask how they were able to do such a thing, but Goldie must have read his mind. “They used a jar most foul; such a grotesque and vile thing! It was shaped into a hideous insect of some sort, and it shone quite an ominous blue. Our bodies were stricken with dread whenever they employed this most sickening device.”
This was the most worked up Chase had ever seen Goldie get, perhaps even mad. Apparently, his boundless optimism and jovial-ness had its limits. “A…jar?” He questioned. “How does a jar make you switch forms?”
“Contained within the jar is a…fog, of some sorts.” Silver answered. “We know not how it works, but we turn into our key forms, against our will, when we are exposed to it. It is only for a moment, but it’s long enough for them to put us on a ring.”
Geez, he already hated these jerks for how they treated the keys (and Buddy, too, from what he could gather from his behavior), but this just added fuel to the flames. They really didn’t have any autonomy under Ex Libris’s iron fist. He looked over at Deacon, who seemed as appalled as he was.
“Just…that’s just messed up.” Silver had stepped onto Chase’s cupped hands, who lifted her into the air, raising her until they were eye-level. “Tiny or not, you’re people, too. Being made of metal doesn’t change that, either.”
The heroine key smiled as she gave a small pat to Chase’s cheek, reassuring him. “Thankfully, that is all in the past now. We no longer have to fear that jar or see it ever again, thanks to you.”
Except they would be seeing that jar again, if the object he had clutched in his hands truly was what he thought it was.
He…could be wrong. The only description he had gotten for the thing was that it looked like an insect and had some kind of “ominous blue light”. The jar he held certainly fit the bill, but if he was wrong, then he had just blatantly stolen it from some innocent person. But, if he was right, then he couldn’t let some Ex Libris cronies walk around with something that could put the keys in danger.
While on his way to the dance studio, he had passed by two sketchy-looking people. Initially, he had decided to pay them no mind, but right when he was nearly out of earshot of them, he heard them mention the word key. Immediately he whipped his head around, and that was when he noticed the strange object in the taller of the two’s hand — a cicada-shaped jar with a faint blue glow.
Is that…?
He barely gave himself time to process what he was seeing. Instead, he whirled around, pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, and quickened his pace to catch up with the two strangers. As he approached them, he started to pick up more of their conversation.
“…only found one of them. The other couldn’t have gotten far.” The taller one’s voice was gruff and abrasive, and absolutely laced with annoyance.
“Are you sure it isn’t back where this one was? They don’t seem to like being separated.” The shorter one had a softer tone, and sounded more bored than irritated.
Chase couldn’t see the taller one’s face, but he was sure he could hear his eyes rolling. He was right behind him now, and slowly began moving his hand towards the jar, hoping to snag it while the man was distracted. He wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good, especially if it had to do with the keys.
“We combed through the entirety of that place and we found nothing, do you seriously think — HEY, WHAT ARE YOU —“ The man had noticed him, but it was too late.
Now, Chase was flying down the sidewalk, running so fast he was sure he had left his heart two blocks behind him. He had successfully snatched the jar and was almost certain that the man was right on his heels, though he hoped that his slight head start was enough. Absolutely no plan was thought up other than “grab the jar”, and he was grateful he was wearing his workout clothes instead of his usual outfit. There was no way he could wear it in public again after this.
As he ran, he heard a dull thunk, thunk, thunk emanating from the jar. Was there…something inside it? Right now? According to the keys, there should only be some kind of fog inside the jar — they hadn’t mentioned it containing anything else.
Unless…if the fog was used to force the keys into their key form…and the jar was filled with said fog…then what would happen if they just stuck one of the keys inside it?
Is there a key in the jar RIGHT NOW?
He quickly shot a glance at the jar — it was certainly large enough to hold a key — but why would they keep one in there if they could just stick them on a keyring? Had they been in a rush or something?
“I SAID STOP, GODDAMMIT!”
Pondering was going to have to wait. Chase’s attention snapped back to the man who was chasing after him; he was going to have to lose him, and fast.
He took a sharp turn and weaved his way through an alleyway, dodging loose cobblestones and trash cans. Hoping it would slow the man down, he knocked one of the cans over, which landed with a loud CRASH. From the string of curse words he heard behind him, he guessed it had worked.
Refusing to let himself slow down for a second, he tore through the side streets until he reached the edge of town. Not hesitating for a moment, he barreled into the woods, hoping to lose them in the trees if he hadn’t shaken them off already. Hopefully, the cronies weren’t locals, unlike Chase, who knew the woods like the back of his hand. He would wait it out, then trek back to his house once he was sure they weren’t on his tail. Hopefully Simon would take a rain-check.
“HIGRANDPAI’MREALLYBUSYRIGHTNOWLEAVEMEALONEOKAYBYE!” Chase yelled behind him as he practically flew up the stairs, skipping a step at a time. He slammed his door shut as he ran through his room and scrambled up the ladder, only pausing to take a breath once he was finally in the tower. The adrenaline from earlier was still coursing through him, and he needed to calm his nerves before deciding what to do next. He paid no mind to the twigs sticking out of his clothes and hair; his attention was fully focused on the jar now lying on the table.
Now…now what?
Deacon. He should tell Deacon.
He pulled out his phone, but then paused, finger hovering over Deacon’s contact. Calling his cousin and explaining what had happened was his initial thought, because oh my god they had found another key (he was, like, 98.7% sure at least) and that is totally something he should know…but if Silver, Bronze, and Goldie heard about it, they would plead to come home right away. Then Deacon would have to find some excuse about why he needed to leave when he just got there, or come out with it and tell his parents the truth, which would NOT go over well.
And, well, maybe he hadn’t found another key, he just probably did. If they ran home to be there when he opened the jar, and nothing was inside…they’d be crushed. So perhaps he shouldn’t tell them right now.
Chase leaned onto the table with a sigh, head propped up in one hand while the other traced the intricate designs of the jar. Should he just…leave it for the morning, until the others got there? Then Deacon wouldn’t have to rush home, and the others wouldn’t get their hopes up right away. On the other hand, if there really was a key in there, he wouldn’t want to leave them just trapped in there any longer. That wouldn’t be fair at all. Plus, if this key was in the jar and not on a keyring, that might mean they had already been awoken, then re-captured. Did they know anything about what was going on?
He sat there, weighing his options. Whoever the key was would probably be more receptive to the situation if their siblings were here…yet, if they were on the Silver end of the “okayness with humans” spectrum, things might be fine. Then again, if they were on the Bronze end…not quite as good. Chase wasn’t even sure if Bronze would be trusting them now if Silver hadn’t been there first.
But still, it just felt WRONG to leave the key there. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe he should wait, but screw it. He’d let them out, explain things, and, hopefully, they’d take it well. Maybe he should get the lava lamp ready just in case — surely they’d find it as enamoring as Silver and the others did.
He lifted his hand from the jar and hovered there for a moment, running through the list of all the keys Silver had told him in his head and quickly trying to match names to a color. Ruby would probably be red, Copper some shade of brown…it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out who this key would be when he saw them.
Heart beating in his ears, he picked up the jar and slowly removed the lid, then angled it to a slight tilt as he lowered it back to the table. Fog seeped from the jar, cold and eerie, as a black key slid out from it and onto the table.
There was only a brief moment for Chase to note anything about the key, other than the color, before they popped into their person form. Immediately they began scrambling away from the jar while coughing and gasping for air, which quickly turned into hyperventilating.
Shit. Okay, maybe he should’ve waited for Deacon and the others to get back, because this key was clearly freaking out. He couldn’t get a good look at the key — they had curled onto their side, facing away from Chase, but he could see a little moon symbol on their back. A moon…Goldie’s symbol was the sun, and the opposite of the sun is the moon…so, then, could it be the opposite of the hero key? The villain key? What was his name…Nox?
Okay, he could work with that. Trying to be as non-threatening as possible, Chase crouched down to be almost eye-level with the key, who now seemed to be hugging himself and was either unaware of his presence or was purposefully ignoring him. God, now he felt even worse.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’re not in danger. Your name is Nox, right? Silver told me a little bit—” his sentence was cut short, because about halfway through, the key’s erratic breathing abruptly stopped, and he suddenly flipped onto his other side to look at Chase directly. Moonstone eyes bored into Chase’s own.
His breath hitched. He knew those eyes. He knew those eyes. They were the same eyes he had comforted in a vampire’s crypt, panicked and petrified; they were the same eyes that had stayed with him while the world crumbled around them; they were the same eyes he had seen every single day since he found Silver’s key.
They were Buddy’s eyes.
A quick ohmygod escaped his lips as he slapped a hand over his mouth. His mind was racing a mile a minute; so many questions were answered from this revelation alone, and yet it raised a million more.
But questions and answers would have to wait, because his apparently-very-tiny-made-of-metal-practically-boyfriend-but-technically-not-quite was not okay. Buddy looked about as close to crying as a key could get — was he…was he scared of Chase? Or just overwhelmed? His hyperventilating had started again — whatever momentary relief he had had apparently vanished — and he actually started scooting away from Chase, just a bit.
Does he not trust me after all?
“W-wait!” Chase threw his hand behind Buddy to keep him from backing away further, then immediately realized that he was technically taking his autonomy away by doing so, then moved it further behind him to be more of a metaphorical stop than a literal one. It seemed to work, though, because he did stop retreating from Chase, albeit with a flinch. Where was he even planning to go?
To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what to do here. He just wanted to help, like last time, but last time they were about the same size, all things considered. Now he was roughly ten times bigger than Buddy — it was a completely different dynamic — and he didn’t want to just grab him or something. Instead, he placed his free hand at the edge of the table in front of the key, trying to invite him closer. “Just…just wait. Please.”
Buddy hadn’t said a word, yet his frenzied breathing seemed to slow, just a little. He didn’t approach the blond’s outstretched hand, but he didn’t move away, either. All he did was stare at Chase’s eyes, so much bigger than his own. Maybe Chase just needed to coax him.
“It’s…it’s alright, Buddy.” He continued, trying to speak as softly as possible. “You know that, right? It’s okay. You’re okay.” As he spoke, he began to slowly, carefully, move the hand behind Buddy closer to him, until it lightly pressed against his metal back. He paused to let Buddy react to it, to move away from the touch if he was not comfortable with it. Instead, he seemed to lean into Chase’s cupped hand, pressing his back deeper into the palm of his hand. Taking this as acceptance, Chase continued his movement, gently sliding the key towards his open hand at the edge of the table.
His hand slightly dipped with the new weight placed onto it — he had successfully slid Buddy onto his palm, who was now very nearly trembling all over — and his thumb was now being grasped by metal hands, clinging onto it like it was the anchor keeping his world together. If keys could cry, Chase was pretty sure Buddy would be right now.
Chase knew how the keys felt cool to the touch, being made of metal and all, and the sudden chill when Silver or Bronze would brush against his neck was always a slight shock — but Buddy had always felt so warm, so normal, so…human. It wasn’t until this moment, when he was now in the palm of his hand, that he realized just how cold the keys truly were. Did…did he feel cold?
With that thought in mind, he gently, lightly, rested his cupped hand over Buddy’s back. He didn’t want to trigger his claustrophobia, or stress him out more than he already was, but he hoped it felt comforting, like when your mom lays a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer over you on a chilly day. He couldn’t exactly hug him like he could before, so this would have to do.
“It’s alright. You’re safe now, Buddy.” Chase continued reassuring him, now gently stroking the key’s head and shoulder with his thumb as his breathing gradually evened out. “You’re with me. It’s okay.”
They remained like that for a while, Chase keeping his voice constant and soft — something to keep Buddy grounded. He didn’t care how long it took, he just wanted his Buddy to be okay. Slowly, slowly, the key stopped shaking, his grip loosened, his breathing became almost normal.
Noticing this, he pulled his hand closer to his face, continuing to talk as he rested it on his shoulder, placing Buddy by his cheek. The key nestled himself in the nook between Chase’s cheek and neck, pressing his body against the warmth.
Chase felt little arms wrap around his cheek. A small voice, barely more than a whisper, made its way to his ear.
“Th…thank you.”
Finally, finally, Chase let himself relax, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He felt a smile start creeping along his mouth, and he gently ruffled the key’s hair with his finger. There were so many things they would need to discuss — what all was going on, what their plan had been, where Violet even was — but for now, he could just enjoy being like this, with his Buddy.
He curled his fingers around the key, tenderly pressing him against his cheek. “Of course, Buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”