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Wylan woke up to a brush of skin against his jaw.
“Jes…?” His neck tingled, and he felt his face flush. “It’s really early for this.” Even without opening his eyes, Wylan figured he’d only see shadows. It had to be hours until sunrise.
Fingers cupped his chin, then slid slowly down onto his throat. Gracefully, softly. Any other time, and Wylan might have given in, but right now he was tired. He shifted back onto his pillow. Jesper’s hand followed.
“Jes.” Either he didn’t hear Wylan, or he didn’t care. Wylan cleared his throat, but the pressure on his neck only tightened. “What are you - ”
His voice cut to silence. The hand clamped hard on his neck.
Not Jesper.
The next realization hit him hard, like a bullet to the chest. He found me. My father knows. No one else would be so hostile, would be so reckless as to try and get him choked to death in the night. He struggled for air, and a wave of panic rose up when he couldn’t find any. The familiarity washed in too fast, too raw. Hadn’t this happened only yesterday?
Wylan’s body shivered, an instant reaction to the familiar feeling. He was back on the boat to Belendt, with Prior’s iron grip leaving him gasping for breath. The black spots came, just like before, floating in and out of sight. Close your eyes. You won’t see them then. It solved the current problem, but there were still plenty of others.
What about Jesper? Had they already killed him, too? Wylan tried to hold back the image of the sharpshooters’ lanky, lifeless body sprawled across their blankets, his gray eyes empty. There’s no way anyone could best him like that, not even in the dead of night.
But what if…
He reached out blind, arms flailing at his sides. His hand hit something warm, and by the way it felt, Wylan instantly knew that he had slapped Jesper in the chest.
Wake up!
The words were there, but he couldn’t make them. So he reached out again, hitting Jesper’s sleeping form harder. There was no time to lay his hand down properly, to check if the heart under Jesper’s soft, soft skin was still beating - all Wylan could do was jerk his limbs around, like all the energy left in him had to be released at once. Why now? Why this moment?
Wylan might as well accept it. He could’ve died in so many ways - a demo experiment gone wrong, being mugged in the Barrel, or even starving in that dreary boarding house so long ago, after nearly drowning in the canal. At least now he would die at home, with Jesper. He’d gotten a chance. He’d fought for it, he’d bled for it, even killed for it. What more could a runaway like him expect anyways?
Life had been kind to let him live so long.
“Wylan!”
Then there was a voice, cutting in like a bomb in the silence. It sounded faded, like through glass, but Wylan heard it over his pounding heart, and that was all that mattered. He opened his eyes.
Jesper.
Wylan reached out next to him again, fingers moving up from Jesper’s chest to his neck to his face. His features were slack and his mouth open, deep in the stillness he found only in sleep. Oblivious. There’s no way the voice was his.
“Wylan!”
Yet there it was, loud in Wylan’s ears. No one else said his name like that. It made his cheeks heat up despite the blood rushing away. His shoulders shook. I’m here, Jesper. I’m here!
No answer. Jesper’s body lay motionless. The stranger’s hand wasn’t letting up. Darkness threatened to take over his vision again, so much that he could barely see his attacker - they were just a shadow crouched above him, all broadness and sharp edges. Nothing was familiar, until they suddenly spoke.
“They swore to me that you were dead, you filthy scum of a son!”
A shiver ran down Wylan’s body, coming to a knot at the small of the back. Surely a bullet would hurt less than this.
You can’t be here. Only Jesper and I have a key.
Jan Van Eck responded easily, like he could hear the voice in Wylan’s head. “You forgot that I can sense you. I can track you down.” His breath was rotten, his tone hysterical. “I would have followed you across the Fold if it meant I could see you meet your end!” Spit flew into Wylan’s face, but he couldn’t wipe it away. His father had gone absolutely mad - even without seeing him well, Wylan could tell that his hair must be frazzled, his eyes bloodshot, and his clothes too creased and worn. “I will make sure the world never knows your name. My family will not be tarnished. I will not claim to know an illiterate boy who sleeps in the bed of a -”
BAM.
A gunshot tore through the air, making Wylan’s father go silent. The hand around Wylan’s neck loosened, and he gulped in too much air, too fast. His head spun. What just happened?
Too much to process, and not enough time. One moment, Wylan was nearly ready to suffocate, and the next, he looked up to see his father peering down at him, a look of disbelief on his face. A blotch of red was blossoming on his shining brow. In seconds it had become a thick stream, trailing down his face and onto Wylan’s shirt.
Jan Van Eck had been shot in the head, and Jesper wasn’t even awake to see it.
His father’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward, landing between the two boys. Wylan scampered back against the headboard. Who else was here? Everywhere else in the room was still, and there was no smoking evidence from a gun. The only thing that moved was the growing pool of blood from Van Eck’s forehead, staining Jesper’s favorite sheets.
“Wylan!”
There it was again, nearly as loud as the gunshot. Jesper’s voice. Wylan’s shoulders still shook, even once he’d caught his breath. It couldn’t be. Jesper was still asleep, despite all the chaos. Even the red seeping into his pillow hadn’t made him open his eyes. Yet it didn’t seem to stop his voice from appearing, echoing off the walls so hard they seemed to move.
“Wy, come on!”
Wylan scanned the room again. Empty. How was this possible?
“Wake up, Wylan. You have to wake up!”
His shoulders shook harder, even with his back steeled up against the board.
It was almost like someone was trying to shake him awake.
“Damn it, Wylan!”
He forced his eyes to open for real.
Light greeted him too quickly, and too strong. Instantly, the sudden change made his stomach recoil, and he nearly vomited over his legs as he sat up.
“Careful!” A hand grabbed Wylan’s arm, the warmth shooting up through his body as it pulled him back upright. This hand was familiar - the one that fit perfectly through his, the one that held him at night, and cupped his cheek with a kiss every morning. He was finally awake.
“Jes.” Wylan meant for it to come out stronger, but his throat still felt weak. Still, Jesper seemed to catch the sincerity in it, and turned to look Wylan in the eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Wylan swallowed.
Jesper tried again. “Sorry, stupid question.”
“It’s a stupid answer.”
“Go on, then.” Jesper shifted back, folding his arms into his lap. Wylan was suddenly grateful for the lack of contact - as much as he loved Jesper’s affection, he didn’t particularly feel too keen on it right now. “What happened?”
“He found me.” Wylan was still shaking, although this time it was the cold that got to him. He refused to grab the blanket, though, for the small chance that there might still be blood left over from his nightmare. “I know it’s unlikely, but…”
“It’s impossible, Wy, we’ve talked about this.” Not angry, just scared. Jesper wrung his fingers together to keep from reaching out.
“But you don’t know my father. He could get information from nearly anyone on the streets. They could find me in a day, and then he’d send his men after me, just like before, and -”
“And… ? You made it out last time. Not that we want there to be a next time, but still.” Jesper sighed. Took a breath. Ran a hand through his hair. “What I’m trying to say is, you don’t need to worry. If he ever gets near you again, I’ll put a bullet through his skull.”
“You did that already… in my dream.”
“Really?” Jesper chuckled. “First try?”
Their smiles returned, ever so slightly. The cold that crept up Wylan’s body was starting to go away.
“Even in my dreams you never miss.”
All at once, the distance between them on the bed felt too big. Too many words, yet too much silence. Even though he could still feel the ghost of his father’s hand on his neck, Wylan needed to be close to someone right now, even if it meant enduring the phantom feeling. He knew Jesper could counter it. He would make it right again.
As if Jesper could read his mind, they were next to each other again in an instant. Jesper wrapped an arm around Wylan’s shoulders, and Wylan shoved his face against Jesper’s chest, who laughed through a faceful of red curls.
“Saints, don’t scare me again, okay?”
Wylan nodded, a steady heartbeat drumming in his ear. He smiled against Jesper’s warmth, letting the familiarity lull him back into contentment. Right here was good. Right here was safe. They had a workshop full of makeshift bombs, pearly guns, and the rest of the Crows at their backs. They would be okay.
They would be safe for the rest of the night.