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Dumb mindlessly ran their fingers over and over through Stormz’s hair as he laid with his head on their lap, sound asleep. He had asked to talk some time after the End fight, to interrogate them on why they backed out last second—and it got nowhere, really. Aside from the promise that they would show up to the Ender ritual that would follow. They didn’t particularly want to, not at all, but they would do it for him.
Staring out at the horizon, Dumb admired the grass and scattered flowers swaying with the gentle breeze that threaded through the meadow. It wasn’t even nearing sunset just yet, but he figured Stormz had been quite exhausted by the End fight, and it was no surprise that he’d end up falling asleep there. Dumb could only be glad that the area would be safe enough for them to just be sitting there.
He soaked in the feeling of that safety with the warmth of the sunlight, his nails gently scratching across Stormz’s scalp with the soothing back and forth motion. He couldn’t help but joke to himself that it was like petting a sleeping cat. Right next to that thought, though, stood the memory of all that the two had been through, both separate and together. All of the times that they had betrayed one another, and all the times they’ve rebuilt. Over and over, fate brought them back together, and over and over, it ripped them back apart.
And the awful thing was, it was going to pull them back apart again soon.
She wouldn’t tell him that yet, though. Not until after the ritual. That she planned on leaving him again, betraying him in her own way in doing so. But there was no other path in sight, not one that would bring any promise or fulfillment, anyway. Only more losses, and betrayals, and efforts that lead to nothing, gaining nothing just to continue losing everything. It just wasn’t something she could be happy with.
But Dumb knew that Stormz would be fine. He could make it without her, especially if he managed to snag Ender. And if he didn’t think so, well, he would just have to deal with it, because there could be no changing Dumb’s mind.
Beneath him, Stormz shifted ever so slightly, curling up the tiniest bit more and leaning further into him. Dumb glanced down at him, combing his fingers through Stormz’s hair again and stopping to let his hand rest on the side of his head. Fingertips traced a small line back and forth right behind where a small wing sprouted from the side of Stormz’s head, and he smiled as Stormz nuzzled his head further against Dumb’s stomach with a sigh. Dumb shifted to wrap his other arm around Stormz a little tighter, leaving his hand in place to run his thumb over the sleeping angel’s cheek.
They didn’t want to leave him. Really, that was the only thing that made it hard. Even if he could make it without them, they didn’t want to do this to him—they wouldn’t be leaving him alone, but it wasn’t about whether he had anyone else or not. It was about the fact that he’d no longer have them.
Another gust of wind weaved through their hair, and they sighed. It really was lovely out here. They looked down at Stormz again, taking in the peaceful sight of his sleeping face. All at once, everything washed over them again. Betrayals. Reconciliation. Victories. Losses. The moments in between. Every angry look they ever saw from him. Every fleeting smile of his. Every broken look, and every look of triumph. They looked down at the man sleeping so peacefully on their lap, the sight only comprised of something soft, something docile. When others looked at Stormz, often they would see all that he'd done, every knife he'd left in others' backs, every moment of darkness and deception, every moment that defined him as something wicked, something sinister and vile, cold and evil. Heartless, aimless, abrasive. Yet when Dumb looked at him right now, they saw it all beneath a blanket of tranquility, like a beast tamed merely by sleep, its wrath when it awakens left as an apprehension in the eyes of fate, as if it could be unleashed upon anything within reach the moment he opens his eyes. Something wild and unpredictable, impulsive. A mess of emotions and motives, desires and vendettas, strewn so destructively and beautifully across a canvas. They looked at him now, and they saw everything. Everything, everything that he was, everything he will be. Everything, both wretched and dear.
If only, he thought to himself, I could just stay in this moment forever.