Chapter Text
Atwert awoke with a start. A deep, piercing headache throbbed in his head, and he was confused as to what had just happened.
‘I had a bad dream…’ He looked to the other side of the bed and found an empty spot, pillow cover smooth and unruffled. The remembrance hit him, and his headache worsened. Galga wasn’t there, by his side, like he used to be. He wasn’t there to comfort or reassure him anymore. There was no use in going to him. To him, now, Atwert was just someone he’s told he used to know, and all he could offer him was a confused, empty smile with hollow eyes. The warm smiles and glistening, loving eyes of before were gone.
The thought only made Atwert sob uncontrollably, instinctively, burrowing his face into his pillow and clenching his hands on it. “I miss you, I miss you so much.” He muffled between shaky breaths, “please come back to me. Please,” He continued to tremble and sob. It was difficult to breathe, to see, to hear or think anything. When the crying naturally subsided, he lay down, staring up at the ceiling, and just remained there, unmoving, unblinking. His thoughts were incoherent yet overwhelming now, he couldn’t process a single one.
One clear thought finally broke through.
‘Maybe I should get a glass of water.’
What a stupid thought it was. As though a glass of water would fix this. As though it would bring Galga back. But Atwert went to get it anyway, and felt his heart sinking when he found Galga in the kitchen. The last thing he wanted then was to have to see the person he knew so well, loved so deeply, now be a husk of what he was.
“Were you crying, Atwert?” He asked, breaking the silence.
His words stung. The way he asked the question so directly, without any smaller ones before it. Just like he always did. But the way he took Atwert’s name, it wasn’t like before. It didn’t have the same gentleness, the same sense of familiarity on the tongue. It was new, foreign, something to be acclimatised to. Detached of all associations and affection once combined with it. Still, it was better than ‘Master’, which Atwert had told him from the beginning not to call him.
“No, no,” Atwert sniffled, rubbing his eyes to make it seem like he was just sleepy, “I just got up in need of water, that’s all.” He looked at Galga, who was looking right back at him, and then averted his gaze.
“What- what are you doing here? You should be asleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to practice my magic, and I burned my palm quire while attempting the pyreball seal,” he explained. “Sorry.”
Atwert didn’t know what to say for a moment.
“It’s no problem, don’t worry about it. We’ll go out to get a new one tomorrow.
I have a question, though, if you don’t mind.”
Galga nodded.
“Why the pyreball seal? We haven’t even practiced that one yet.”
“To keep you warm. I’ve seen you shivering at night from the cold and hugging your pillow, so I thought I’d help with that.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Of course Galga couldn’t know that that bitter cold was from his absence, and that Atwert longed for his warmth by his side, and imagined his pillow to be him he’d hug every night. But he’d noticed and cared about it, and wanted to help Atwert. His voice was sincere, kind as ever. Atwert couldn’t help but hope that if these remnants of his personality remained, maybe, just maybe, he would find his way back to him, and they’d really return to being as they were. For now, though, that wasn’t the case. It was a pyreball Atwert was getting, after all, not Galga’s warmth. But he knew what he had to do now- get him back. Get all of him back, working with the fragments of familiarity he had of him like puzzle pieces. He didn’t care how much time it’d take, how many palm quires would be destroyed and mistakes would be made.
He just needed to reignite that glowing spark in him.