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Eiden died. This was inevitable, but nonetheless cruel.
Years passed by without much thought from Kuya. He thought it would be that way eternally, but time felt slow when he found out.
Does the cause of death truly matter? The end of the second Grand Sorcerer itself was far more impactful than what caused it to happen.
Yet again, he didn’t get to say bye. He was left alone, with no one to satisfy him as well as Huey and Eiden could.
Sure, the altars would now be regulated by the third Grand Sorcerer, Rin, but did that matter at all? Kuya couldn’t find any part of himself that could care for Rin more than the previous Grand Sorcerers.
He wandered home instinctually, strolling through the forest undisturbed. No one would dare to cross his path.
Then he felt a hand clutching his shoulder. Only one person would dare touch him.
“Feeling cocky enough to lay a hand on me, Old Friend? How awfully suicidal of you.” Kuya didn’t care enough to look back at Quincy.
“Where are you going?” Quincy questioned quietly, his grip unyielding.
“I don’t see why that matters, particularly to you.” Kuya argued.
“You were walking into the tribe’s resting place.”
In his mindless wanderings, Kuya didn’t realize what was just up ahead. Rotting, uninhabited buildings. Graveyards with stones likely only maintained by a single man. A distinct lack of people.
Right. Kuya wasn’t sure when it happened, but he knew it did when he saw how Quincy was acting. He was sleeping even more often, and he’d be away from Eiden for longer stretches of time. He’d been getting a little better—coming around the mansion and being more present—but Eiden’s death pushed back his progress.
He wondered if Quincy was wandering as he was.
“Heh, do you expect me to apologize for encroaching on now uninhabited land? Why are you defending a place no one cares for anymore?”
It had been a long time—before Huey’s dissappearance—since Quincy was an impulsively violent man. Kuya wasn’t expecting for his legs to be kicked out from under him. He let out a breathless laugh as air was knocked from his lungs by the ground.
Kuya’s endless power allowed him to be upright in the next second, his grin invading Quincy’s vision before he put his hand in the man’s blonde hair. He gripped onto it while whispering in Quincy’s ear.
“You have no one left, and so you’re clinging to me?”
“Clinging...” Quincy’s breath was hot on Kuya’s face. “You’re the one holding on.”
Kuya didn’t let go, even after being called out. He tugged at the strands he bundled into his grip and watched for signs of pain on Quincy’s face.
The man gave no reaction, looking disinterested.
Dissociation, maybe?
Already growing tired of watching Quincy’s stoicism, Kuya retreated. “Run off and sleep amongst the graves of people who didn’t even care for you. I won’t stop you.”
“Is there any other option?” Quincy asked coldly.
Kuya was keeping a steady pace of slowly backing away, but froze at that. “Are you seeking one, Old Friend?”
“We’re both tired.” Quincy murmured. “We cannot search.”
“You’re ignoring the obvious answer right in front of you—interesting.”
Quincy’s eyes looked him up and down before walking forward. The remains of the tribe were in the distance. “Follow me.”
Kuya teleported up onto the branch of a nearby tree, trailing after Quincy with the use of his essence. He kept a keen eye out for a white streak, but it never came.
When Quincy arrived at one of the stairs leading up to the old buildings, Kuya hopped down.
“Where is your little friend, hm?” Kuya chuckled. “I expected him to be at your side.”
Quincy’s gaze stayed on the stairs of the ruins, then he started his ascent. “Dead.”
That was news to the fox. He stared after the forest-dweller before making a decision to teleport ahead. “How did that happen? He was a resilient creature, so I cannot help but ask.”
Topper was a strong companion, despite him being so small, and he was just as immortal as Quincy. Kuya couldn’t imagine him dying, especially naturally.
“He told me he smelled Eiden. It couldn’t be, I said, he’s dead. But Topper was so attached, he gave chase. He fell from a great height. When he fell, it was at an awkward angle for him. It…”
Kuya did not want to hear any more. He waved a hand dismissively, ascended the steps, and headed into the building. The place was relatively quaint, but run down. Inside was a bed, a nightstand, and desk that were still intact and well-maintained. The bed was only a tad messy, looking as if it was recently used.
Truly exhausted, Kuya did collapse onto it. No more talking. It was time to rest.
Quincy received this message well, climbing into the bed after stripping his shirt off. Kuya didn’t bother to take off any of his own clothes, even if they were dirtied by his trip through the woods. Cleanliness felt as pointless as everything else.
They laid together in the ruins of Quincy’s oldest home. Kuya tucked his arms in between their bodies. For warmth, he told himself. Survival instincts were kicking in, that’s all.
Who was he trying to trick anymore? Huey and Eiden were gone. Quincy’s human eyes couldn’t see him in this darkness. He could feel the man’s breaths going in and out slowly, an effort being made for air to be pulled into his body. Kuya matched the pace, trying to sleep.
But he couldn’t, so he gave into his base urges.
Nothing mattered.
Kuya whined into Quincy’s collarbone, pressing his lips to it. He felt a strong arm awaken to wrap around his waist, squeezing him tightly. His heart hammered against his chest as his whining got louder. Was he dying? He felt like he was, with his personality breaking down like this.
“What’s wrong?”
The question was easily ignored as Kuya feebly clawed at Quincy’s chest. He’d lived past Huey’s disappearance—but it was a close thing. He couldn’t do it again, not when there was no hope of Eiden’s return.
“Calm down.”
His heart stung. His legs kicked. His teeth clenched. This was the end. Kuya knew it was the end. He should have left before it all ended.
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. Quincy didn’t smell like smoke anymore.
“The Little Devil told me something.”
His sniffing halted at that. Eiden?
“He told me he loved all of us, and that’s why it was hard for him to accept his body wasn’t functioning as it used to. He didn’t want to leave us.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better, Old Friend?” Kuya struggled to get the words out in his usual fashion, his cadence becoming choppy. “Foolish until the end. He was excellent at keeping my dreadful boredom away, yet how can I be grateful when I am left with a pit afterwards? There’s nothing that can fill it. I can’t ignore it. Put a pretty sheet on top to cover it, and I’ll step on it. You’re that sheet to me, currently. You obscured it for a moment, but then I was plunged back into the darkness.”
“Could I obscure it again?” Quincy asked.
Kuya faltered. “If you make an effort, I suppose—”
Chapped lips pressed onto Kuya’s. A sticky and dry mouth welcomed him in.
It was no heaven, but it would do for now. Kuya hummed into their kiss, trying to stimulate Quincy into doing more.
“I love you,” Quincy whispered in between their kisses.
Kuya hummed affirmatively in response. Even if he didn’t believe Quincy, it felt wrong to reject his oldest friend.
They didn’t do more. They simply kissed until Quincy's lips became motionless. Kuya, annoyed, decided he’d insult Quincy in the morning.
When he opened his eyes again, Quincy was still asleep in front of him. Sleepily, Kuya reached out to trace Quincy’s face with a hand. His skin was cold, but Kuya didn’t notice anything amiss until his fingers traced under Quincy’s nose.
There was no breath.
His eyes widened as he pushed on Quincy’s shoulder, rolling the man onto his back as he sat up. The fox put a hand on Quincy’s chest. No motion. He continued to touch, checking over and over for any motion.
Nothing.
“How…”
Does it matter how?
Kuya shook the thought away. Looking around, he was able to spot a note on the nightstand.
With a shaky body, Kuya crawled over Quincy to reach it. He took the paper in his hands, gingerly unfolding it.
I’ve known you for a long time—more years than I could count. I know you think I lied about loving you, and that may be reinforced by what I’m about to do. For that, I am sorry. This is partially me being selfish.
I am leaving the mystery of how I died to you. Figuring out should provide some entertainment, more than I could’ve if I stayed. We have experienced too much together, more than a fox or a human should in their lifetime. There’s nothing new I can give you other than this.
The death of those you know well impacts you, I know that now. Death is better than that monotony you run from.
Let that feeling fester before deciding if you’ll leave too. You can do that while you bury me with the tribe.
Eat beforehand. An empty stomach will only make you irrational.
I love you,
Quincy
Glancing between the body and the note, Kuya sighed. “I always thought I’d die before you, Old Friend.”
Kuya stood up from the bed. There weren’t many places where clues could be hidden in such an undecorated room. He considered exploring further, but Quincy couldn’t have gone far in a single night. It was best to check this area first. Looking through the desk, he found only one empty container of ink, a pen, and a stack of blank paper.
That left only the nightstand with two drawers.
He opened the top one and found a sack. He emptied the contents, finding various items inside. Syringes, liquids, herbs—this was Quincy’s doctor’s bag.
Some liquids and herbs were noticeably missing, either only a little of them being left or none at all. Kuya started adding up the labels in his head. Independently powerful sedatives. Blood thinners.
All of the ingredients together would make a rather toxic poison.
He stuffed the contents back into the bag roughly and put it away before continuing his search. The bottom drawer of the nightstand held clothes, but digging through those yielded nothing.
He then checked under the bed, finding another pile of clothes. They smelled of Quincy—of smoke and wood. Kuya pulled them out of curiosity and saw a small gleam in the light. He pulled out a bottle, almost empty. He unpopped its cork and sniffed.
Certainly poison. Kuya could use it himself, but he was uncertain if such a low dose could kill him. He’d have to use a more certain method.
Quincy just couldn’t make things easy. Matters between the two of them never were.
He dropped the bottle and stood up, staring down at the corpse. It was only proper to bury the body. Quincy did this for him, after all. Completing the task of making a grave was essentially repayment.
Kuya got back up on the bed and hugged Quincy around the waist, teleporting them both outside. Quincy’s head fell to the side, grass blades brushing his cheek.
In a daze, Kuya pulled himself off of Quincy and stood up.
He had no intentions of honoring Quincy’s wish for him to eat until he spotted a boar making a mess of the nearby graves. With a snarl, Kuya blasted the rabid animal with fire. It fell over with a hole blown into its side, letting out a high-pitched noise as it died pathetically.
It looked sick, likely not good for a meal.
The animal was so easy to kill.
Kuya rotated his hand towards himself slowly, aiming at his own neck.
His eyes darted over to Quincy’s body. He couldn’t leave yet. He still needed to bury it.
Kuya didn’t enjoy digging. Dirt got under his nails and stained his clothes. He felt disgusting, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter.
He made a hole deep and large enough. The numbness he felt made it easier for time to slip past him as it used to. Once he was done, he wiped his hands clean enough. If he was in his right mind, he would have taken a bath right then and there.
Looking over at Quincy’s body, Kuya took a sharp breath through his nose. He could smell the decay, piercing into his brain despite his wishes that it wouldn’t. This caused him to roll Quincy’s body into the hole with vigor.
Then he deflated. It was tempting to join his friend in the hole. Kuya stood up, taking in a breath that hurt far too much.
He sat at the edge of the hole.
He teleported up on a tree to watch the sunset.
He climbed into the hole, standing in the very little space beside Quincy’s body.
Nothing mattered. It felt like the monotony would never go away this time. Kuya’s fingers brushed up the skin of his own neck.
This was inevitable, but nonetheless cruel.