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Chapter Text

The woods are brutally cold, every breath Arthur takes can be seen as an orb in front of his mouth and his body is shivering from the chill and exhaustion. Tree branches hit his face as he sprints through the dark trees, some of them are breaking on impact with his body, others slide right past his skin and leave stinging scratches behind that slowly grow red beads of blood.

His feet are stumbling numbly across the foggy ground, the energy having left his body hours ago and only leaving behind limbs screaming and aching for rest. Arthur can not stop running. An unseen force is chasing him and another dragging him closer to itself. The combination of both pushing his body forward and not getting a single chance to catch his breath.

His mind is quiet, his own thoughts are being swallowed by the fog that is growing thicker around him, and the companion he grew used to - gone. Quiet in his mind does not mean quiet surroundings, which the man had to find out the hard way. His eardrums almost burst with the sound of static and whispers all around him, all encasing, pushing their way into his head and mind. His ears feel like they are slowly being thrust into by the growing static, as the whispers start to press against his mind.

Arthur can barely see the ground his shoes hit, just being able to hope he will not be caught by a root or stone.

At this point he has been running for hours, he is sure of it.
Nothing else could explain the taste of blood in his mouth and the painful stinging in his lungs, almost as if a rib came loose and is puncturing his left lung every time the vibrations of his foot hitting the ground shake his body.

Arthur squints his eyes, trying to prevent the blood from his forehead from making its way into his eyes, which results in him being able to see the distant forest a sliver better. It seems almost as if the fog is clearing up slightly ahead of him, giving the man a spark of hope to finally make it out of there. A spark of hope to be able to rest and not have to drag his aching body through the cold woods anymore. The focus on the distance makes his steps even sloppier, and he suddenly feels his foot getting caught on something.

The aching pain in his ankle makes Arthur stumble forward and lose his balance. Before he can regain it, the ground tilts and sends him tumbling forwards. All roots and stones around him seem to be gone in an instant, leaving nothing behind to hold onto with his shaking hands.

The leaves, slippery with the dew of the fog, and the ground, tilting more and more, send the man rolling forward and forward - down towards a crescendo of whispers.

Slowly and inevitably he slips over the wet leaves, unable to regain any footing or balance.

His heartbeat, which Arthur thought was already running incredibly fast, gains a new, unknown and worrying rhythm when he feels his feet lose ground.

Desperately he tries to find an object around him, anything to grab onto, anything to save himself from certain freefall. The realisation of the absence of a lifeline hits him when his body slips closer and closer towards the fall, over the edge right in front of him. His feet try to dig into the dirt underneath, but fail miserably.

The ground underneath his upper body gets replaced by the rush of air quicker than he thought possible. His arms flail around him, desperate to find something to hold onto. The whispers come to a stop as soon as the rush of air surrounds his ears, the sting of cold air replacing the static that took over his mind not even a second ago.

Heartbeat in his throat, Arthur feels like the air gets sucked out of his lungs as he falls and falls and falls. He can feel his lungs shaking, gasping for air in futile attempts, which quickly end at the feeling of freezing water.

Before Arthur’s brain can register the impact of his body with the water, his attempts to breathe in the air around him get shut down by a gasp that fills his throbbing lungs with water. For a second there is silence in his ears, a sweet moment of rest from the uproar of rushing air, before the surge of water moving around him replaces it. The man’s lungs burn like nothing he has ever felt before, so unlike the warmth of the campfire, chimney and candles he is used to.

Unlike the burn of sitting just a bit too close to the warming fire and not wanting to get up, because the heat makes him feel more than he has felt in a long time. The aching gets so bad in the split of a second that, combined with the loss of oxygen, black dots start to dance in Arthur’s vision, floating from the left to the right side and back. Almost like a peaceful dance, if it weren’t for the consequences they bring with them.

A rock makes contact with his head, hurting at first, but then almost turning into a soft pillow by the way his head is resting on it. Small pebbles encircle his body, adjusting to his limbs and letting him sink deeper into the ground as the water drains around him, leaving Arthur wet and shivering in clothes ruined by the twigs and sharp rocks in the water.

Almost as if by instinct Arthur’s body turns to its side, giving way for his lungs to eject the water that was filling them not even a second ago. The nasty sounds of gurgling and choking fill the air as they empty, leaving behind only the taste of blood in Arthur’s mouth and a deadly need for air.

The first stuttering, desperate breath he takes feels bittersweet, finally able to take in the much needed oxygen, but feeling the pain drag all the way down from the back of his throat through his windpipe into the man’s sore lungs. Arthur slumps back down onto his back, letting the pebbles underneath his head adjust to the shape of him and cool the pulsing headache.

It takes him a few minutes of just laying there, calming his breath, until he opens his eyes. A beautiful sight greets him; the stars in the black night sky shine on his face, distracting from the coldness that started seeping into his limbs. Exhausted he lets his head sack to the side again, a particularly pointed pebble poking at his cheek just underneath Arthur’s eye.

Slowly his eyes start adjusting to the darkness around him and make him notice an incredibly small silhouette to his right, just barely illuminated by the stars above and laying next to the now calm river flowing close by. He flexes his arms as he makes his body sit up, and a searing pain runs through his muscles from the fight for his life just a few minutes ago.

The sitting position allows him to slowly crawl his way over to the shape. The closer he gets, the clearer it becomes. The small thing seems to be wet from the water, its fur laying glued to its skin, which makes its ribcage poke out from its front. A few of the ribs seem to be in an unusual position, not straight in the way they should be.

It looks to be curled up in a final attempt to warm itself up despite the harsh temperatures biting at its wet fur. Arthur can only guess that the water in its lungs must have been too much for the tiny body to handle, a fight against the river lost. A fate that could have easily befallen him as well. His heart bleeds for the tiny creature and the fear it must have felt. An urge to at least help it get its final rest, makes itself known to Arthur, which makes him turn the creature over, slightly towards him, to pick it up in a softer, more caring way. Finally he catches a glimpse of the head of the creature.

A cat. A cat with a white spot just above its ear, almost glowing in the darkness, standing out from the rest of its black fur, that melted into the shadows just a moment ago. A familiar white spot.

The freezing of the water in his clothes and the pain Arthur’s body is in does not matter anymore. A broken noise makes its way out of his throat. The recognition sends a stinging pain through his heart, a pain unmistakably caused by not only the loss of a loved one, but also of someone bonded to you. Grief shoots through his body, shaking it with devastated sobs, so broken and fragile, and yet so loud and unmistakably full of pain.

The rocks digging into Arthur’s knees do not matter anymore, the pain blending in with everything around him. He cradles John’s head so carefully, almost as if he could cause his familiar even more pain. A desperate attempt to connect, to give the cold body in front of him its warmth back. A futile attempt. The stars feel like they have dimmed around both of their forms, the world grieving with him.

Chapter Text

Arthur wakes in panic, his body feeling heavy and wet from sweat, still fighting to get air in its lungs, even though they were not harmed in the slightest during the last few hours. Tears are streaming down Arthur’s face, falling on the bed sheets still covering his lower body. 

Small sun rays are making their way through the curtains hung above the windows in his room, illuminating the space around him slightly more than the stars did in his dream. His breathing is still heavy when a panicked voice in his mind makes its presence known. “Arthur? Arthur, are you okay?” John’s voice rips through his panicked state of mind and makes his head snap to where he can sense his familiar’s presence.

The cat comes closer, just inches away from the bed, now that the witch has calmed down slightly. John knows better than to approach Arthur when he is panicking, a tiny scar across his right eye a witness of the events that took place the last time he did. Arthur apologised multiple times when it happened, telling John to be careful and not trust him while panicking. 

“John- John. You’re here. You are safe”, Arthur whispers to himself, a reassurance that the person closest to him is still here, that he did not fuck up again. “I lost you. The same way I lost her, again. It happened again”, his voice breaks as he starts explaining. 

John jumps up the bed, settling down on the bedsheets and facing Arthur. “Arthur... You have been having the same dream numerous nights in a row. It is not your fault, in your dream you could not have done anything differently. I don’t think that dream coming back to you every night is normal. Ever since we have been here in New York it has returned nightly.”

The man lets out a sigh and takes one of his hands up to his face to drag it across his eyes in a tired gesture. “I know John. Things have not been normal. I’ve been feeling more tired after sleeping. I feel like everytime I’m having that dream something is watching me. Not chasing, but taking pleasure in just sitting there and seeing it play out again and again and again.”

One of the side effects of his dream he does not mention to John. Seeing John die, or just holding his fragile body every night, it messes with Arthur’s brain. He started feeling anxious when John leaves his side for longer than usual. Knowing fully well that John would not like that complaint for multiple reasons, one of them being his personal freedom and another the effect the nightmares are already having on Arthur, so he decides to bury that feeling deep down and lock it behind a mental door. 

John voices his understanding, or at least acknowledgement, with a hum in Arthur’s head, that translates into his cat body as a small sort of grunt. Speaking to John does not usually let the familiar make noises in his physical form, but with some emotions and without focus a small noise sneaks its way in every now and then. The cat senses the change in muscle tension of Arthur’s legs and gets up from the bedsheets just to then jump to the ground in elegant and practiced fashion. 

With a groan of tiredness Arthur decides to follow, pushing the sweat soaked bed sheets away from his body to swing his legs out of the bed one after the other. He is definitely not fully awake yet, which the man himself does not realise, but as he approaches a shoe on his way to the bathroom, that he was too lazy to put in its proper place yesterday, John pulls it to the side to save Arthur from tripping. 

Usually, Arthur is more aware of the space around him, able to navigate through it easily, but, usually, he is also not focused on the fact that something seems to be wrong with this fucking room. 

Once in the bathroom the first thing the man does is wash his face clean from the sweat and tears the nightmare caused. At this point, that part has become essential to his morning routine. He then goes onto splashing ice cold water on his face to feel a little bit more like himself. A few drops of water spill on John, who decided to sit next to the sink to wait for Arthur. 

With a scrunched nose the familiar flees from the bathroom and decides to curl up on the coat Arthur left on the floor after coming back yesterday instead. The garment is already full of black cat hair at this point, and John figures that a few more added hairs will not cause harm as he dozes off again while waiting for Arthur. 

The floor beneath John starts to move and he springs up in confusion, and his back rounds in a typical cat fashion. Instead of the world collapsing he sees Arthur facing him in a dead stare, frozen mid motion to softly tug the jacket out from underneath John. “Way to get me up. Did you finish already?”, John speaks while relaxing his body again. "It's been half an hour. Come on”, is the only answer John gets as Arthur pulls on the coat and continues: 

“We are heading to the library again. There has to be something there that can help us. They have all kinds of crazy books there, the odd one about demons should also make its appearance there.” 

The door closes behind them with a quiet click, and they start making their way outside. The hallway smells like camomile, and a hint of the scent follows them outside. The smell surprises neither of them, at this time of the day Marie has already had her second cup of tea, and usually, her favourite to have during the mornings is camomile. The last time they sat down with Marie for tea, she told him about her lower back aching, which made Arthur consider gifting her a tea with some of his herbs in the coming days. 

Leaving the front door Arthur pieces together a mental list of useful herbs. Rose hip, nettle and currant leaves, that sounds like a good combination. A small spell for the nice lady wouldn't hurt either, just to ease a bit of the pain she has to endure. 

The walk to the library is not a long one, with the building just being a few blocks from Marie’s house. The ground is still slightly wet from it raining during the night, at least that is what John informs him of. A familiar pressure on his right calf makes him step slightly to the left in his next step before continuing straight ahead. They’ve used this system for years now for avoiding small things on the go. This one was probably a puddle, if Arthur had to guess by the sound of John hitting the ground softly next to him as if jumping over something. 

Arthur can feel the sun on his skin, no clouds hiding it today, as the warmth spreads throughout his limbs and aching neck. A shame to be spending the day inside, the man thinks as he enters the library through its front glass door. He has been here before for this research a couple times, but has not found anything useful yet and almost exhausted the collection they provide on demons. 

The books he was able to find on witchcraft were not useful either, all written with some pseudo knowledge on his craft that any usual person would know or be able to perform. His hand glides over the bookshelf relevant to them until John tells him he has found the book they were looking through during their last visit. “Illness and witchcraft” would be a title that you would think could either be helpful or completely full of misinformation. 

Up until this point, it is the latter. Arthur takes the book and together they head to one of the studying desks. John hops up on the desk and sits down next to where Arthur put the book. One might think a cat in the library would get them thrown out, but the old man who is in charge of it, surprisingly has a soft spot for cats. 

The first time they visited this library, they spent half of the first hour listening to his stories about his three cats and how his wife will bring one home out of the blue every few years. He was completely fine with John joining Arthur not only in the library, but also on the desks and chairs. Some of the other visitors have given them confused stares, according to John’s description of their facial features, but at this point they are both used to being an attraction at public places.

Neither of them cares much about that. Sure, they do not like the attention, but most of the people actually coming up to them do not have the intention to complain. They have even gotten a small crocheted scarf gifted by one of the other usual visitors of the library once. A young girl, maybe in her early twenties, who approached them to pet John had a friendly smile on her face, even as she was met with the response that John is not the biggest fan of getting touched by strangers. She nodded respectfully and still continues to greet them every time their paths cross.

John scoffs in Arthur’s head as he reads the last pages of the current book they are working on out loud.

“‘Witches can be identified by a disproportionate nose, a loud laugh, the ability to predict unpredictable events or signs given by the one above. I have once come across one of these wretched women, a woman who looked beautiful in stature and had a bright mind. We went out to drink tea together, where she spotted a crow that came close to her. She did not seem frightened,  an odd quality for a woman. I found her behaviour intriguing and continued to observe her during our outing. She turned her head to the direction in which the crow left which made me spot a mark under her hair on her neck. A slightly darker skin patch, in a shape only the devil can cause, an upside down cross. I took that information to the council immediately and she was dealt with during the following hours. Be aware, witches hide amongst us, waiting to drag someone down with them, away from holy innocence.’

I’m just going to skip the next few pages of him going on about his victory over that innocent woman. 

‘ A man in our village got sick a few weeks ago, the priest spent an hour at his bed, trying to get to the reason of the illness after the doctor was unable to help the nobleman. After he emerged from the room, he told the doctor that the man recently got intimate with a woman who acted very strangely afterwards. The night spent with her clearly was the reason the man fell ill.’

What a weak mind, he really thinks you’re that easy to spot?” 

Arthur sighs and closes the book. “Not helpful yet again. I don’t know where they get those ideas? As if spotting someone practicing witchcraft is as easy as them having a ‘devil’s mark’ or whatever they call it. Taking a part of someone’s experience and villanizing it is just not helping anyone. Do we have another book we wanted to get through today?” He gets up while talking and grabs the journal again to make his way back to the bookshelf and sort it back in its proper place. He grabs the book next to it and throws John a questioning look. 

“‘Witchcraft, a guide to self healing’? I do not think this is what we are looking for, Arthur. The rest of the books don’t seem to have any better titles or information as well. I think we might have exhausted this section of the library”, John’s voice sounds tired as he says this. Hours of reading a book filled with misinformation will do that to a person.

Arthur frowns.“Do you think that’s it then? We have spent a lot of time combing through all these irrelevant books and have found nothing to even guide us into a different direction.” John sighs, “I think this might be a more difficult search, than what we first thought it would be. I do not think the answers we are looking for lay here. We just have to keep going, keep moving and find where to head to next.”

The witch nods in a defeated fashion, his shoulders still upright, an outsider would not see the strain this situation takes on Arthur, save by the bags underneath his eyes. John has known Arthur for years though, and has been with him through unspeakable tests of faith. “You know we can do it, Arthur, like we always have. Eat the elephant, we will find another idea.” 

John’s reassurance sends a little smile across Arthur’s lips. Their little motivational sentence always has that effect on him, nodding in easy agreement. He might have to fight to gain another way, to get another door to open, but he will not have to do it alone. His familiar by his side, always. 

“One bite at a time. Let’s head back for today, we have spent a good amount of time here. Maybe a bit of pacing in our room will help us”, he gives a small chuckle and waits for John to jump off the desk. The sound of soft paws hitting the ground follows not even a second later and they start moving towards the door. 

“The library owner is at his desk, by the exit. He has spotted us and gives us a smile. He seems to be waiting for us to get closer to him.” John’s information gives Arthur the chance to look into the librarian’s direction and give him a greeting once they are close enough. 

“Hello, you two. Heading out for the day? You have stayed longer than the past few days. Finally found what you need?” 

“Good seeing you Mr. Owens, lots of interesting information, but sadly nothing particularly useful to my research topic. I am going to call it an early day for today, we old men need some rest too every now and then, am I right?” Mr. Owens gives a heartfelt laugh in response to Arthur’s comment and looks down at John with a fond look in his eyes. 

“Sure thing, kid. If I were your age I would take some as well. Can not have all bones turn to dust." The old librarian’s eyes have a sparkle in them as he jokes. A joyful soul, even in his old age. Their dynamic has established itself quite easily. Mr. Owens using the first time they met and spoke to one another not only to ramble about his cats, but also to lightheartedly comment on most topics covered in their talk. 

Arthur gives a small wave to Mr. Owens as he exits the library through the front door with John jumping down the stairs in front of him. The ground seems to have dried up during the time they have spent in the library. Arthur’s shoes are no longer making that small squelching sound every few steps, and John trotting effortlessly next to him.

A bit of sunshine itches at Arthur’s nose, making him take his left hand to his face to scratch the very tip of it. A man suddenly bumping into him from the left catches Arthur off guard. His familiar’s hiss works as an indication that he also did not see the man coming. 

“Apologies, lad. What a shitshow. I wanted to go and do my prayer, and all they did was ask for money. How am I supposed to give them what I am praying for? Idiots."

The man’s complaints ring quietly in the air as he continues walking past Arthur and John, not having stopped in his way besides for the small apology. 

“The man that just stumbled into you is a younger man, his hair looks to be slicked back and he was carrying a small case in his right hand. I think he came from an alleyway to our left. Must have not seen us.” John explains the situation to give Arthur reassurance of what happened.

Arthur nods in appreciation and continues walking, his face facing to the front, but his forehead is pulled into a frown with his nose slightly wrinkled. A look John recognises as Arthur being lost deep in thoughts. “I can almost see the cogs turning in your head, what are you thinking?” 

Arthur faces John, before turning his face to the direction they are heading again. “The man had a good point.” “The church being after people’s money?” 

Arthur laughs at that response. 

“Not what I meant, John. The church is something I have not thought of yet. For some reason. It is quite obvious, isn’t it? If we are dealing with a demon, what better place is there to ask for advice than the church?” John looks at Arthur in surprise. 

“Would it be a smart idea to seek them out and tell them your story? Considering... you know.” Arthur nods again in response. “Which is why we are not going to ask them to exorcise something we do not know it is, we are going to ask if they have any helpful books. So we can find out more, before taking any action of course.” A considering hum is the reaction Arthur gets. 

“So it will be like the library, an endless search?” He gets met with a sigh. “Probably, we don’t have a better option currently.” 

Chapter Text

A gasp leaves Arthur’s mouth as he wakes up in a panic, yet again. The hairs on his neck are standing, and a shiver is still taking over his body. His upper body is being supported by his arms behind him as he rose in shock. This is, as Arthur found out the hard way a few nights ago, a recurring phenomena. 

There is no escape. This time he has woken up before he was able to see the dead body of his closest friend, just in time to feel himself almost drown and not yet be able to experience the relief of the stars above.

The sun has not yet climbed high enough to be able to shine through the small gap in his curtains and the birds just seem to have started singing. From the corner of his bed, he can hear soft snoring. He slowly sinks back into his pillow with a soft sigh; it is definitely way too early to even think about getting up. 

Carefully and with concentration, he lets the muscles in his body relax, thinking about each limb and bodypart, before relaxing it to his best effort. It has been quite some time since he has done this, his muscles spasming from being tensed with no break for the past few days. One of his arms wanders to his neck, just below his nape to massage the ache that has built up there. His hand runs over a particularly badly aching knot, which makes the man hiss slightly and pull his hand away. 

A weight shifts in the bottom corner of his bed, and Arthur feels like he can see the stretch John does as he gets up slowly, having grown used to the movement over the years. John lets out a small groan as he finishes his front stretch and moves to his hind legs, almost as if to complain about his sleep being disturbed. Arthur takes the chance to poke a joke at John. 

“Sleep well? I certainly did.” He can feel John throwing him a look in return, that Arthur is certain, if he were able to see, would kill him. 

“Sure, all sunshine and rainbows I am sure.” Arthur just lets out an amused wheeze sounding breath in response. “Arthur, there is a letter on the nightstand to your right side, it must have arrived during the night.” 

The man nods in acknowledgement and reaches his right hand out to grab the letter. He opens it in a practiced fashion and lays it facing upwards on the bed in front of his familiar. John puts one of his paws on the paper, which makes a sort of rustling noise,to keep the paper from folding in on itself, and starts reading the written words to the witch. 

“‘Dear John/ Dear Arthur, 
It has been a few weeks since your last letter. I have not been able to write out my response to your tellings until today. I hope that what you wrote in your last letter still rings true, and you both are well still. You have mentioned that you have found quite the affordable room for your stay, and I hope this still is the case as well. A man nowadays, especially in our field, can’t be too picky, if the price is right. Yellow and I have not been up to any adventurous tasks recently. He requested for us to have a week of resting after our last client’s spell wish, which I happily agreed to. The requests from people these days, even with them being trusted enough to know about our existence, seem to be getting more specific with every client. Our week of sitting around, as Yellow preferred we spend it, has just started yesterday, which means I will have plenty of time to respond to the letters you both send, shall you have the time for it as well. John, Yellow would like to talk with you again soon. Arthur, you already know how he feels about you, but I’m sure he would not mind sharing his air with you for a limited time.
Let me know how your past weeks have been. 

Don’t you dare leave this letter unread for too long, kid.

Your friend,

Noel’

Next to Noel’s signature, is a small ink splash that looks suspiciously like a claw print.”

“Thank you John, Noel is right. It has been a while since you and Yellow were able to last see each other. Once this is over, we will travel to see both of them again. Until then, we should respond. It really has been weeks since we last filled Noel in on our travels.” 

John nods in agreement and jumps off the bed to find a pen for his friend. Once John returns Arthur grabs a piece of paper from his nightstand, now that he thinks about it this would be a great place to store his pen as well.

He places it on the nightstand next to him and grabs the pen from John's jaws. “Thank you, I think I will briefly tell Noel about the nightmares. Not in too much detail, he should take his well deserved rest this week.”

‘Dear Noel and Yellow,
We are happy to hear from both of you. It seems that you are doing as well as one can after a client like that. We are still staying in the room I’ve told you about. However, at this point we are not sure anymore if the room really is as much of a bargain as we thought it was. Ever since coming here I have had this recurring nightmare. John does not seem affected by the room or any dreams so far. We are currently trying to look into any written medium that could help us identify this strange occurrence. By now, we have exhausted the library. Today we will try and find help in the church and see if they have any more helpful writings on these kinds of topics. We look forward to seeing the both of you again sometime soon. Do tell Yellow that I’m sure I won’t poison the air around him too much.

Take care.

Your friends,

Arthur and John.’

The fountain pen finishes writing its last letter with a small scratching sound on the paper. Arthur taps it onto the paper at the bottom a few times to make ink spill out of the pen’s tip. It pools into a small uneven circle, bleeding into the paper. Before it can start to dry Arthur puts the paper on the ground for John to have access to it. 

John’s eyes quickly scan over the paper, having gathered most of the written words by Arthur mumbling them, while bringing them onto paper. He steps on the ink with his left paw, a way to also sign the letter. The signature was something both of them came up with after getting close with Noel and Yellow, wanting to keep in touch without John being left out. Yellow started joining in on their small ritual for every letter Noel writes not long after. 

They met Noel a while after meeting Yellow, a strange way to find a new friend, but not one they would have wanted to miss out on. During one of their travels at night, the both of them were sitting at a campfire, warming their faces from the cold temperature of the night around them. A caw let John’s head snap to the direction it came from, a strange pull coming from that side of the woods around them.

John insisted on taking a small walk towards the noise. Arthur, not feeling the pull but trusting John, agreed immediately, seeing the urgency in the cat’s eyes. After a few meters, they came across a treestump, hollowed out from the inside and overgrown with moss. John’s nose twitched as they got closer to it. He was able to identify the crow resting inside as a familiar immediately and told Arthur to stick to the background just in case something had scared the other familiar.

That was the place they found out that Yellow, as the crow introduced itself, unwillingly at first and after a lot of digging for information they found out that he had bonded himself to a witch, having felt the call from both of their souls. Like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly into one another. That was usually how a familiar and a witch came to find each other. The next part Yellow told them about was as confusing to John and Arthur as it must have been to Yellow. 

The man he now was able to call his witch did not make any effort to talk to the crow, just staring at him in confusion during Yellow showing up, while the man was running his daily errands. After a few days, Yellow, understandably, was pissed to say the least. That was not the behaviour he thought he would be greeted with.

And once Yellow actually tried to initiate conversation with the witch,  ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶c̶h̶, he was met by shock and disbelief. The next thing Yellow knows is the man looking for help in a church to get rid of the supposed demon. Before the familiar even had the chance to ask for explanation for the strange behaviour, or to help explain things, he felt a pain in his small heart. In shock, he made his way up in the air, flying away from the church slightly, the pain lessening with distance. 

The bond still unbroken from the way he could feel the man’s soul reach out for his, but stinging enough to hurt him, if he stayed too close like he had before. 

John, knowing the feeling of one’s soul being connected to another, and not even being able to imagine the pain, that must come with a hurt bond, immediately made the offer to help the other familiar, who only reluctantly agreed and looked like he wanted to go back on that right away when he saw Arthur standing a few feet behind John. 

This might have been the exact moment their dislike towards each other started. Hate at first sight and all that. They learned to tolerate each other during their time spent traveling to New York, the place Yellow told them he came from after the incident and where he met the man. Tracking down the other witch was not the easiest task, but having different perspectives, literally, by one being able to search from above, and the others from the ground, made it certainly easier than it could have been.

They spotted the man coming out of a pub late during one of the weekend evenings, looking rough in the way he held himself. 

The confrontation, that they decided to not have on the open street, but instead on a park bench, barely lit up, explained everything. It turned out that the other man, Noel, as he would tell them, was not even aware of his status as a witch, running through the motions of his life in the belief that every human had their little quirks here and there.

He never had anyone to tell him or practice with him, which made his abilities not as noticeable. When he heard a voice in his head, trying to introduce itself, and a crow, the one that had been following him around, stared at him with a slight yellow shimmer in its eyes, he really thought he had lost his mind. Or that a demon was coming for him. With Yellow’s voice, that was not the most unlikely assumption, the familiar had to admit, as well. 

Apparently, after his visit to the church Noel felt more drained mentally and physically than usual. Being able to feel that something was off made him believe the three of them easier than they thought he would, given that he was not aware of being a witch. Due to his profession as a Private Investigator, he had no issue believing their existence even prior to meeting them, but he himself being one seemed so unlikely, that it never even crossed his mind. 

After Noel’s apology, Yellow and him agreed to try again, not to starting over, since neither of them wanted to forget their first meeting and the pain it caused, and to be more careful with each other. 

And Yellow could not lie to John, the glint in his eyes told the cat that Yellow would enjoy the challenge of making this witch one of the best ones out there. A perfect fit. 

John later told this to Arthur,  who just laughed, of course the crow that constantly challenged his actions and opinions on their trip to New York would enjoy a challenge like that. They parted with the promise to keep in touch. All of them, besides Arthur and Yellow, growing to be close friends over the next few times they met and the letters they exchanged. 

Arthur finishes off folding the letter and puts it back on the nightstand, just to guide his hand lower, back to the drawer. He takes out a small bottle attached to a chain and opens its cork. A small vial he grew used to carrying with him everywhere to easily be able to exchange letters with other magic practicing friends. 

Which right now, was just Noel. He tilts the small container and pours some of the white dandelion seeds out on his hand. A very useful ingredient not only due to the plant's own ability to morph in its different life stages, but also for its seed’s ability to be carried by the wind for miles if the conditions are perfect. 

Slowly and carefully, he sprinkles the seeds over the letter, careful not to break its umbrella-like structure. A few mumbled words is all it takes for the letter to dematerialise itself and rematerialise itself close to its recipient on a convenient surface again.

Now ready to begin their actual plans for the day, Arthur gets up from the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a few of the clothes that pile themselves on the ground next to the bathroom door. John, the simple creature he is, uses the extra time to rest his head on his front paws and closes his eyes for a few extra minutes of sleep. 

The ground being pulled out from underneath him awakens the familiar yet again, still not having learnt and sleeping on Arthur’s jacket, he pays the price by being rudely awakened again. The man does not pay attention to John’s scrunched up nose and goes to put on his boots instead. Arthur opens the door to their room as he finishes slipping into the right boot and John follows him with a stretch. 

On their way down the stairs, they catch a glimpse of Marie. Well, John does, and informs Arthur of the presence of the woman hosting them. As they get closer to the bottom of the stairs, Marie turns around.

“She seems to be having a less painful day. Her face lit up when she saw us, and she seems to be carrying herself in a more comfortable fashion today.”

“Good morning Marie, how are you feeling?” Arthur asks, coming to a stop in front of the woman.

“Oh I am doing well. The back pain decided to spare me for today, it seems.” She throws him a kind look and follows up with a question right after. “Would you like some tea? I can offer the small guy you have with you some of the chicken I cooked yesterday as well. I made a separate portion without any spices.”

“That is really kind of you, Marie. Sadly, we are on our way to the church right now.” Arthur declines while John throws him a dirty look.

“Oh, I did not know you went to church, dear. Would you mind greeting a friend of mine should you get the chance to talk to him? I have not seen Oscar in quite some time. He is the priest of the church that is closest to here. I am assuming you are headed there?”

“I will try should I get the chance. He is probably the one we wanted to speak to anyway. Thank you again for the offer. I am sure John would love the chicken later as well.” Arthur takes a mental note of the name of the person they would encounter soon.

“No worries. I am not going anywhere. You both head out then. Should you not be back before I go to bed, I will leave it in the upper fridge, on the left side by the sauces.”

“Thank you Marie, have a good day.” Arthur gives a small raise of his hand as a wave towards Marie as he steps out of the house and closes the door behind him. 

“Do you remember where we saw the church, John?”, he questions as he tilts his head slightly downwards to his familiar. “I think we came across it that one time we went through the park and then walked to the library from there. It should be somewhere behind the lake, next to the park entrance we left the park from.” 

Arthur nods in acknowledgement and gratitude, before turning to the left on the next street to make his way to the park. Once they get closer, he can let himself not only be led by memory, but also by the smell of the blooming trees that were planted next to the park entrances to frame them on both sides of the gates. The stones of the gravel path crunch beneath his shoes as he takes the way from one entrance of the park to the one standing across it. John hisses next to him at a particularly sharp pebble, but shakes it off before Arthur can do more than throw him a concerned look. 

“The lake is now in front of us to our right. It shimmers in the sunlight and a few ducks have gathered around the outer edge, watching the playing children carefully. They seem to be used to getting fed some bread around this time and wait impatiently. Once we have reached the gate we should turn to the right on the street and see if we can find the church from there.” John informs his witch.

Arthur takes in the sun on his skin as they continue walking and listens to the children’s joyful laughter. A sound he has not heard up close in a long time.

Once the gate throws a shadow on his face, he can feel his shoes leave the gravely path and get back onto the smooth cement. He turns to the right and waits for John to mention the building they are looking for. 

“Slow down, to our left the towers of a church stand ta-”, before he finishes up the sentence John gets interrupted by the sound of church bells being rung. 

“Ah, there we are. Thank you, John. I am not sure if the service has already started so we might have to head in quietly.” They walk up the stairs and Arthur pushes open the heavy metal door. A small gasp makes itself known in Arthur’s mind, coming from his familiar. Caused by both the sensation of the cold stone tiles of the church hitting the pads of his paws and the absolutely stunning decoration of the church surrounding them. 

The church is adorned with gold and dark wood making for a gorgeous contrast. The big pillars end in ornamented capitals and the floor is made of black stone with a red sparkle to it. 

John describes as much to Arthur, his voice a pitch higher in wonder, before adding that the last row of benches next to them was empty and that they should take a seat there before disrupting the already ongoing sermon. 

As the both of them take a seat Arthur can feel a lot of people in the back end of the bench rows eye him. An anxious prickle runs down his neck. The anxiety of being noticed makes it not easy to focus on the man at the front podium currently reading a bible verse. It has been years of being noticed due to his sometimes delayed reactions to visual cues and the fact he brings a cat to most places people have not seen a cat yet and still the feeling of anxiety in these situations has not left him. 

Arthur listens to the, for him disembodied, voice filling the church with a slight echo. It feels like honey, claiming his sense of hearing and leaving a comfortable feeling in his mind. He can see why people would want to listen to this regularly. The witch and his familiar have not been the people to go to church for a sermon and they probably never will be, but either of them can admit the feeling of calmness running through this church. 

A tap on his knee makes him snap out of his thoughts. The small weight of a paw removing itself once John sees Arthur is back in the present as people shuffle around close to them, gathering their jackets and bags, getting ready to leave the church. A choir of voices, people talking to each other, has replaced the voice of the priest at the front. Arthur follows the example of the people around him and gets up, shuffling to the end of the bench. 

Unlike the other people, walking towards the church exit, he makes his way to the front, after John’s input that the priest was still there, currently finishing up a talk with one of the community members. 

Once Arthur reaches the man, he has finished up the talk and turns towards him, throwing the cat at the witch’s shoes a look as well. “I have not seen you here before. Are you new to this community?” Arthur gives a quick nod in response. “Well, it is nice to meet you. I am Father Oscar, the priest in this church. Is there anything you wanted to ask?” 

Arthur’s mind recognises the name immediately from Marie’s wish to greet the priest he was facing right now. “Nice to meet you, my name is Arthur Lester. Indeed.” He takes a quick look around, listening out for people standing close by or making their way towards them. Nothing. “I have been wondering if you keep books on demons and other such creatures around here and if it would be possible to take a look at them?”

Arthur almost holds his breath in anticipation. This could be their breakthrough and a negative response to his request could ruin the possibility of this. 

The priest lets out a soft sigh, almost hard to catch. “I do. I usually can not lend these books to people since they are property of the church. Is there a reason you have to take a look at them?”

Arthur debates telling the man his real reasons but decides that a shortening of the truth would not hurt. “I have been having strange dreams, nightmares. They leave me drained. Physically and emotionally and I have reasons to think it could be linked to something shown in one of the books you keep.”

Oscar takes in a deep breath before nodding, as John tells him before the priest continues talking. “I can let you take a look at them in my study. I will have to be present, but you would be able to research your problem undisturbed. Would that work for you?”

Without any hesitation Arthur agrees. Oscar continues, “Would you be able to come back here tomorrow? I am able to let you into the study around 11am?” 

“I can do that. Thank you, Father.” he nods in gratitude and turns to walk to the church doors. John right beside him. Arthur stops, remembering his promise and turns his body halfway back to the priest. “Oh, and Marie wanted me to send you her regards.”

The priest looks surprised, but accepts the greeting with a soft nod and a smile as Arthur turns around and leaves the church. 

Hours later Oscar pulls the door of the church closed, after stepping through it. A sigh makes its way out of his lungs as his shoulders deflate, and he makes his way to his house across the church gardens.

It is convenient to live this close to his work, but some days he just can’t bring himself to leave during what others would consider a normal time. 

Too caught up in making sure people’s needs and worries are heard long past the time he is supposed to lend an ear to them. Today was one of the stranger days for the priest, having met a man that just felt different to talk to during the early hours of his work. 

Not to mention the cat following the man, eyes seeming far too intelligent for such a simple being. He thought they had a fascinating dynamic, the man and the cat. However, Oscar has never owned a cat, nor any other pet, which makes him question, if he is the best person to judge the dynamic pet owners should have with their little creatures. His day was rounded up by a confession that left him speechless for a few seconds after the man across from him stopped talking.

A strange day. However, it wouldn’t be the first time Oscar had to deal with some random man’s request he did not understand at first. Usually, he is the first person people think about coming to with their requests and fears of being affected by some demonic powers. 

A few years ago, it must have been around two or three at this point, a man with a wide build and a stubble across his face came into his church. His brown eyes carried a sparkle of fear, a look usually one most people only carry if they convinced themselves of monsters born in their own imagination were coming for them or if they truly have seen something unimaginable. Something that is not supposed to exist in their world. Something changing the way a person would see the world after encountering it. 

The man started explaining his situation in a hushed voice, as if scared someone - or something - could be listening in. He started telling the priest about this voice he had been hearing. At first barely close by, just the odd comment about something no one else could have seen in an empty park or alleyway. Then growing into a manifestation of a crow, watching him, talking to him. A deep voice that sent shivers down the man’s spine at the thought of its possible origin. 

He contemplated whether he was losing his mind or if something else, something sinister, was at play. Oscar does not fully remember the books he used to look for a way to help the man, he just remembers that it took them a few tries until something started happening. One of the prayers making a nearby crow call out. Its cry fading in the following seconds. 

Judging by the comment the man made, Oscar assumed it must have done something since he stated he was feeling lightheaded. Since he has not returned to his church, Oscar hopes his efforts to help the man were successful. He does not want to think about the other option of the man being left in a weak state of mind, after their efforts and the being using that chance to hang onto the man even tighter. 

Chapter Text

Arthur is in a different room, one close by to the church. He is getting himself changed into a sleep shirt, before climbing into the unfamiliar bed. John hops onto the end of the bed, spinning around himself a few times, before he lets his body lay to rest next to Arthur’s legs. Arthur, after almost falling asleep on the table in one of the nearby café’s, decided that tonight was the night he needed some actual sleep with no nightmares plaguing his dreams and destroying any chance at getting rest. 

He wanted to be able to go into tomorrow's research less tired and with a clear mind. One, maybe two nights in this room are all he could afford, being more expensive than his stay at Marie’s by miles. The sheets are soft and hug his body in a comforting fashion, the warmth of John’s little body filtering through them by Arthur’s legs. He lets his head sink into the pillow and roll to its side before closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to come. A soft snoring accompanying his efforts to breathe steady and calmly. 

… The rocks digging into Arthur’s knees do not matter anymore, the pain blending in with everything around him. He cradles John’s head so carefully - almost as if he could cause his familiar even more pain. A desperate attempt to connect, to give the cold body in front of him its warmth back. A futile attempt…

Arthur’s upper body shoots up from the bed with a panicked breath and way too fast a heartbeat. No warmth. There is no warmth next to him, close to his legs. He is cold. A sob leaves his mouth, his hand covering his lips immediately after. His eyelashes feel wet, just as they did in the dream. His tears cling to them as they well, weakly sealing his eyelids together.

A soft, questioning meow gets Arthur’s attention. His head whips around to its source. A weight joining him on the bed again. 

“Arthur… Was it the same nightmare? I thought this room was meant to give you a break.” 

Arthur could scream with relief after hearing his familiar’s voice speaking in his mind. “The same dream. The god damn same dream. Either I have lost my mind, still not free from this hell, because my head thinks it is funny to repeat it still or..” he pauses for a moment, feeling slightly scared to speak the next few words as if speaking them out loud would make them reality. “Or it was never the room to begin with. It is something I can not escape from just by running away from it.” 

“If it is the second option... Arthur, we should try to find a way to fix this as soon as possible. If you are stuck with it- unable to walk away from it - it will be so much more dangerous than we thought it would be.” A small paw rests on his hand. “We can do this, Arthur.” 

The witch smiles down at John in appreciation. A friend by his side, talking him down from his spiral, was more needed than he thought it would be. “We should head to the church then. The sooner we get started on this, the better.”

They pull the door closed behind them, giving the room a last look if they have forgotten something. A small bag with essentials for the nightly stay hangs over Arthur’s shoulder as they walk down the stairs to the reception to hand over the key. 

The walk to the church just takes a few minutes. John guides Arthur through the two more unknown streets as the church bells ringing eleven times ring through the air, announcing that they are slightly late. Arthur just hopes the priest won’t mind. Usually he is not one for missing a meeting time he himself wanted to set up, but it seems unusual circumstances lead to unusual behaviour. 

He almost sprints up the stairs to the church, pushing open the door leading inside, John walking in before he can set his foot inside the building. Clothes shuffle to his left side before footsteps approach the both of them. 

John’s voice in his head explains the sounds before Arthur can question the person’s identity. “Oscar just got up from one of the back end benches. He seems to have waited on it, getting up as soon as the door opened. He is now walking to us with a friendly expression on his face.”

“Good morning, Father. I apologise for the slight delay.” Arthur pushes out in between his slightly heavier breathing. 

“He makes a hand gesture as if to repudiate the apology for the few minutes we are late. A smile dances on his lips.” 

“Do not worry, Mister Lester. Follow me to the study? It is not located in the church, which is the reason I decided to wait here for you, I did not think you would find the way there yourself.” He starts walking towards the front of the church, taking a look over his shoulder to check if Arthur is following him. 

Quickly two pairs of steps fill the air, echoing through the church. John’s paw steps being too quiet to be heard over the shoes of both men hitting the stone tiles. 

They reach the door on the end of the church, just behind the altar, and make their way through a small room to another door. This one stands tall, a massive wooden door integrated beautifully in the wall of the church. As Oscar opens it and gestures for Arthur to step through it first, a rush of fresh air hits them, bringing in the sweet smell of dog roses from the air outside. Arthur can almost see the bushes, still vividly able to imagine the roses he grew up next to. 

As they continue down a small path of flat stones laid onto the grass beneath them, John describes their surroundings. “Arthur... It’s beautiful. The path we are walking along leads to a small house across the church, only separated by a garden. The garden looks well kept, roses growing on bushes in front of the hedges isolating the garden from the streets surrounding us. There are small patches of wild flowers, that grow undisturbed and buzz with bees. Margarites grow in small strips interrupting the bushes of roses.”

“The garden looks beautiful, who takes care of it?” Oscar turns his head around to Arthur, almost having reached the door of the small house to answer his question. “Thank you. I do. Usually, my work leaves me with a good amount of spare time after morning services or during the evenings. It calms me to take care of something that is not myself.” 

Oscar turns his head back around to open the door of the house for himself, Arthur and John, who is currently fascinated by a small butterfly flying close to his nose. 

John snaps out of his focus when Arthur steps into the house and follows the man. The house is cool compared to the sunny outside, a comfortable contrast. The smell of old wood surrounds them, and Arthur takes in a deep, silent breath. Books and old wood are not rare smells, but they still are among his favourites. He wonders if Oscar would smell similar as well.

“The reason I have to be present is that this is not publicly accessible property. I have most of the books in my study, and a lot of them are too old to be handed out for borrowing. I am not sure which books you will require, but this is the easiest way to guarantee safety for all involved.” Arthur nods in understanding. He is concerned about how efficiently they are going to be able to get through their research, yet understands the priest’s reasoning.

“I am not going to disturb you while you look through the books. God knows I have enough paperwork to get through. The downside of working for the church.” He gives a small chuckle and as they step into the study extends his arm in an inviting gesture. “Over here are the bookshelves, feel free to look through them yourself. I will be at the desk.” Oscar gives a small nod to the massive and dark desk in the room, before pointing to a small table with a chair standing right next to it and a small buffer spread across the table. “I have a separate area for books to be put down at. You can use the space however you need it.” 

Arthur quickly shows his appreciation with a “Thank you, Father.” before walking in the direction Oscar’s voice was facing when talking about the smaller table. John uses the time it takes Arthur to put his jacket on the back of the chair to catch him up with a description of the room. 

Together they walk over to the bookshelves and browse through the titles, taking any book that seems interesting for their problem out of the first bookshelf and putting it on the table. 

After a while they get comfortable in their routine again, Arthur flips the pages and notes down possibly important information, which honestly is not a lot at this point, on paper they have brought and John sits either loafed over the book pages or with a straight back, reading the words on the page to Arthur. 

“I don’t think this book is going to be important for us. The author seems to know a lot about plants and their properties but I doubt using lavender is going to fix all of our problems.” John criticizes with squinted and doubtful eyes. “I agree, plus, we have had lavender with us for a good amount of time. The mosquitoes are really out for blood this time of the year.” A smile crosses Arthur’s face at his joke.

Meanwhile Oscar looks up from his paperwork for the first time since he sat down. A strange picture paints itself for him. Arthur is hunched over a piece of paper in front of him, mumbling to himself as he takes notes. The cat is sitting slightly to his right and facing the book that is laid out on the table as if reading it for itself. This man is interesting, so different from anyone Oscar has ever met.

He scans the man’s slightly messy hair with one of the front strands hanging into his face, almost covering one of his eyes. A smile dances around the man’s lips every now and then and his hand glides over the paper so smoothly while taking notes. Every now and then the man’s hand grips the pen a bit tighter, which in return makes Oscar spot the blue veins running underneath skin. His eyes wander across the man’s jawline and down to his arm again. The sight that his eyes wander to next almost makes him jump. 

A pair of eyes stares back at him, bright and knowing. Oscar quickly turns his head back to his own paperwork and refuses to let his eyes wander in the direction of the man across his study again. The stare of the cat felt uncanny to the priest.

John tells Arthur about his observation. “Oscar was just staring at you. He looked away almost shamefully as soon as he saw me looking back at him.”

“I am sure he is just not used to seeing a cat on a desk hovering over a book as if reading it”, Arthur replies quietly, which just earns him a sigh in response.

The witch takes the break of his writing as a chance to look towards the priest, whose pen he faintly can hear scratching against the paper.  “I’m sorry if I am interrupting your work. I was just wondering, since we are researching this issue without any real lead right now, if you have had anything similar happen yet.”

“I have not had a case that was exactly like yours, I fear. However I had someone come to me a few months ago complaining about waking up drained and feeling sick after waking up. He decided to deal with his body feeling that way for a few weeks, before it started to influence his daily life. He came to me looking for help and after a while of talking about his dreams and sleep habits it turned out that he was having specific dreams. Dreams he enjoyed a bit too much, but was ashamed to speak of at first. He was being targeted by a being called Succubus. A demon who preys on the sleeping and manifests itself in their dreams…I guess what I mean to say is you can be open about it now, if this is your predicament.” Oscar finishes his brief story and looks at Arthur, straight into his eyes. 

Arthur blinks, once, twice, processing the information and then shakes his head. “No, my dreams are just nightmares of loss. I do feel physical effects after waking up though.”

Oscar nods his head in understanding and lets a small sound of assent at Arthur's words escape his mouth.

“How long have you been a priest for? It must be a fulfilling profession to be able to help the local community and keep people safe.” Arthur feels a spark of interest inside of him, he wants to get to know this man in front of him, wants to be able to listen to this man and know more than just his voice. 

“I have stopped counting nowadays, that’s sad, isn't it? I was already aware of wanting to go this path when I was a teenager. I was brought up in a religious household and the children at church gave me a sense of belonging. I decided that when I was older. I wanted to still be able to give people that feeling. The feeling of being connected to others through your beliefs and knowing there will always be someone there to listen. I started working in this particular church around five years ago. During this time I have gotten to know most of the people attending services personally. Which is why I was able to tell that you have not visited this church before. You were a new, unusual visitor.” 

Oscar gains a soft look as he speaks the last words, which Arthur does not catch since John is too focused on looking at the page in front of him to describe the priest's facial expressions.

“Unusual?”

It is not like Arthur is not aware of that fact, he usually sticks out in crowds and knows the looks being thrown his way all too well. But he wants to know, wants to know the way this man is interpreting a word usually reserved for more negative views of him and John.

“Yes, you came into my church with a cat. Something I haven’t had happen before. And even further than that, you did not look at any person giving you a surprised look or staring too long to be in a kind intention. You seem to absorb the sunshine as soon as you step in it, as if the feeling of the sunrays hitting your skin is the most precious feeling you have felt so far. I don’t see other people enjoying that kind of sensation.” As Oscar finishes his description he averts his eyes from looking directly at Arthur.

A small, not noticeable from Oscar’s distance, redness sneaks itself onto Arthur's cheeks. It's a description about him being different, yes. It is not even close to capturing him as a person, but still it is the most attention someone has paid to the way he behaves in a long time. Someone actually paying attention to his little quirks and not just judging him based off of the way he presents himself to others.

Oscar lets his eyes wander to the clock on his desk. “I am sorry, but I am going to have to attend confessions in around 10 minutes and still need to prepare for those. I don’t want to cut your research short, but also won’t be able to stay here. Would you mind heading out for today and continuing with the book another day? I would be able to meet you again tomorrow.” With a glance to the desk the priest quickly adds: “You are welcome to leave the desk as it is right now, of course.”

Arthur agrees to Oscar’s proposal and gets up from his chair, scraping it against the floor with a squeaking sound, which wakes John with a twitch of his ear. 

“Let’s head out John, we will be back tomorrow.” The witch waits for his familiar to jump off the desk and trot to the door before he turns around to Oscar a last time. “We will see ourselves out, if that is okay? Same time tomorrow?” 

Oscar gets up from his chair as well and nods in confirmation. “Have a fine day, Arthur.”

“You as well, Father.”

John also gives a little “Meow” in reply, which Oscar can only hope to be meant in a nice way. 

Chapter Text

Arthur and John make their way to the church through the heavy rain outside. The whole last week has been sunny to no end, temperatures rising and water from the closeby ponds evaporating. Just to then come crashing down again accompanied with loud thunder echoing between the buildings around them. 

Both of them have visited the church a few times by now and today is the first day since they started making their way past the park that the ground is almost muddy from the rain. Arthur, having forgotten his umbrella, is holding part of his coat over his head, while John runs from tree to tree, using the slight protection it offers from the rain until Arthur has caught up with him. 

They make it to the other exit of the park quicker than expected with Arthur’s wide steps and John’s sprinting strategy combined, but just as they step out onto the sidewalk again, a car runs closely past them. Through a puddle. That has gathered itself right next to Arthur. Before he can jump to the side after John’s warning, and just in time for John to hide behind him, the water hits. 

Arthur just stands there for a second in disbelief as the dirty puddle water runs down the front of his clothes, before he loudly starts cursing out the driver. Reckless people all around. 

With a defeated sigh Arthur drops the part of his coat he was holding over the top of his head, now totally useless, and continues the last few meters to the church entrance. The water drips down his clothes and John’s fur as they walk up the last three dry stairs, the only ones protected by a small roof from the rain. Their footsteps appear quickly on the stone stairs. He and Oscar have made it to the point in their acquaintanceship where Arthur and John walk through the church and its garden to the house Oscar lives in on their own, prior to then knocking on the wooden door of the priest’s house. 

The priest opens the door to a, he would have to call it quite amusing, picture. In front of him Arthur and his cat stand absolutely drenched, dripping from head to toe with hair and fur glued closely to their skin. The ground, which was slightly dry, or as dry as it can be with raindrops finding their way underneath his front door canopy, was now flooded by the water escaping Arthur’s clothes and John’s fur. 

Oscar has to conceal a small chuckle and invites them in after a second of taking in the sight of the both of them. “Dear Lord, you both have not made it here dry, have you? Come in. You can wait in the hallway, I will fetch you both a towel. Do you want some dry clothes as well, Arthur?” 

Arthur pulls his wet shirt slightly away from his skin with a disgusted look on his face, this is really not his kind of fabric texture. “Oh yes, that would be great. Sorry for leaving a trail of muddy footsteps through the church on my way here. I tried to get it off as best as I could before entering, but you know how mud can be.” 

A disgusted gagging noise next to Arthur and Oscar makes them look down to a John, who was just in the motion of cleaning out the mud of his fur with his tongue. He seems to now have decided against it. “Get this shit out of my fur, Arthur. If it dries and clumps I am absolutely blaming you.”

“Would you perhaps have a wet towel as well for us? I should try and clean a bit of the mud and dirt stuck to John’s fur.”

Oscar nods in response and crouches down to swiftly give John a few seconds of scratches between his ears as a welcoming gesture, before then heading back in the direction of a room Arthur has not been in by the sound of the man’s footsteps. The priest’s bedroom, he guesses. 

A creaking sound fills the house for a second, before another moment of silence follows. 

“He has disappeared into a room that seems to be his bedroom and closed the door slightly after disappearing behind it. From the sound and look of it I would guess there is a closet right behind the door he opened to grab a few clothes.” Just as John finishes explaining, Oscar reappears behind the door and walks towards them again.

“Definitely the bedroom, I caught a glimpse of his bed. He is carrying a small pile of clothes and some very soft looking towels.”

He takes out one of the smaller towels and then holds out the pile of fabric for Arthur to grab. 

“Oscar is holding the clothes out to you, slightly shifted to your front left.”

After having handed over the clothes and two towels he turns on his heels and speaks over his shoulder. “I am just quickly going to give this towel a rinse under warm water, before I get it back to you.” He enters the kitchen and a faucet is turned on. In a slightly louder voice to still be heard over the noise of the running water Oscar continues. “Once you have dried up a bit you can head into the bathroom, down the hallway to your left if you remember? I can take the wet clothes, once you are all finished, and put them in the dry laundry if you would like?”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you, Oscar.” Arthur replies with a slightly raised voice just seconds ahead of hearing the faucet being turned off again. It has been a few days, maybe two or three, since Arthur first called Oscar by his name, after feeling more familiar with the man through many chats between their research and paperwork. 

At first he apologised for the slip up, not knowing if the priest would even be comfortable to be referred to by his name, rather than title, by someone who at that point could have easily been a stranger to him. Oscar reassured Arthur with a kind smile, as John informed him, that he did not mind and was okay with Arthur calling him by his name. 

Carefully and taking his time, Arthur removes the clumps and smudges of mud he can feel in John’s fur with the wet and warm towel that was just handed to him by Oscar. The parts he does not find on his own John assists him with, telling him where he can feel additional weight dragging down his fur. 

Once he has dried John as well as possible with the smaller dry towel, Arhur finally picks up the bigger towel for himself and gets to work rubbing his hair dry and patting the wet clothes to at least make them damp and not fully drench Oscar’s hallway on his way to the bathroom. He picks up the clothes and, with John now sitting a few steps away from the puddle they have created, heads to the bathroom to change. 

In the meantime of Arthur changing, Oscar makes it his mission to clean the muddy puddle left behind at the entrance of the hallway. Not a chore he minded doing, he was glad to be able to provide the man and John a warm, dry place. Even if it was not freezing outside, he is sure both of them would have started shivering soon with their clothes and fur not providing any warmth whatsoever anymore. 

Oscar gets finished cleaning the floor before Arthur is fully changed and heads to the Laundry Room next to the bathroom to deposit the dirty rug into the laundry machine, slightly jumping when he hears Arthur’s voice behind him without hearing the bathroom door open.

“Want me to put these in there as well?” 

Behind Oscar, Arthur stands tall above him as he is still crouched slightly to reach his hand into the opening of the machine with John peeking through his legs. 

“Sure, just put it in there and I will get the washing started. They might be dry by the time you are leaving.”

“Oscar stepped to the side to let you put your laundry into the opening. You will have to duck slightly to reach the opening, but since it is wide enough you should find it easily by heading straight ahead.” 

“Thank you”, Arthur replies. An easy response for both Oscar stepping to the side and John’s explanation. “This weather was not what I expected when we left the house today. It started absolutely raining it down once we were already out the door.”

“I agree. On the other hand, I can’t say I’m too mad about it. The garden needs it more than I get inconvenienced by it.”

Both of them back out of the laundry room and head to the study to actually get started with what they have met up to do. A soft chatter fills the air as they continue the conversation about the weather and Arthur’s run in with the car. Usually, Arthur is not one for small talk, often finding it too draining to keep up with the most simple topics and not being able to form a connection to the conversation partner, but with Oscar it seems like they almost effortlessly talk about the weather with no awkwardness interfering. 

Any conversation between them feels like that. Easy. Not forced and often diving into topics that interest both or either of them, the other listening with interest if they have nothing to add. In the occasion that Oscar and John are able to talk about something, Arthur communicates John’s thoughts on the topic as well, an easy yet comfortable dynamic for the both of them. 

During some conversations, John will stay quiet and observe the mimic of the man they just recently met. His eyes sometimes sparkling in a specific way when he listens to Arthur talk about something. 

Once they make it to the study Oscar pulls out a book for Arthur to read next. “I saw you were able to finish the last book yesterday and after scanning through the bookshelf again I thought this could be a helpful next step?”

The book handed to Arthur is one on the meaning of dreams. They have obviously tried looking into these kinds of books before with no result. This book seems older though, a good amount of time older. As Arthur grabs the book from Oscar’s hands, his hand slightly brushes the priest's thumb. 

Warmth. 

He puts the book down onto the desk Oscar works at and pulls the chair back so he can sit across from Oscar. The warmth from the touch slowly starts to leave his body. They have started to work across from one another, enjoying the company they give each other through just working simultaneously in such close proximity. It also makes the chats, they have every now and then, easier.

One of them will start with a topic that just came to their mind or they just read about, discussing it with the other, before quietly and comfortably going back to their own work. What others might see as a distraction is a helpful dynamic to the both of them. Keeping each other from drifting off in their thoughts. John appreciates this dynamic more than he would like to admit as well, being able to sneak long stretches in every now and then and walking around the room to stretch and maybe steal a treat out of Arthur’s pockets, which he put in the pockets of the dry pants, before putting the wet ones in the wash to not have them dissolve in the washing machine and cause all of the laundry to have wet crumbs on it. 

Oscar sneaks in glances at the man in front of him whenever he notices John too occupied with the book in between them to notice. The circles underneath Arthur’s bright eyes seem to be more present with every time they see each other. The man probably does not get enough sleep in his current state. Oscar really wishes he had any idea on what is influencing the man. A person should not have to suffer through this.

Arthur’s eyelids feel heavy as he listens to John’s voice reading out the book, paying attention with all his mental power to not miss any important information he should note down. Over the last few days, the paper has barely been filled, and any lead they thought they uncovered, vanished as soon as they got back to their room and followed it up with a spell or re-reading the details of the information.

“Another form of drowning in a dream can come in the form of drowning in blood, whether this is your own, unidentifiable or someone else's can alter the meaning of this dream. This can represent wounds, whether physically or emotionally you try to heal from.” A shudder runs down Arthur’s spine as he thinks about the water being switched to blood in his dream. He does not even want to imagine blood clinging to John’s wet fur instead of it being soaked by the river water.

John, having noticed the obvious discomfort, decides to move on to another page, pawing at it so Arthur flips it for him. 

“Yeah, that is definitely not it. Let’s move on.”

Arthur moves his hand to turn the page ahead of putting it back underneath his head to support it as he holds the pen in the other. 

As John continues reading, Arthur loses the fight against his tired eyes, which close on their own now, and he nods off slowly. His head and arm, no longer consciously supported, slip away from underneath him slowly, and his head lands on his arm, which is now covering the paper he was supposed to write on. A soft sigh escapes Arthur, which catches John’s and Oscar’s attention. 

As if in a cartoon, they both look at Arthur and then each other. Oscar really questions his sanity at this point, as his eyes wander back to Arthur and then to John, who is eyeing him suspiciously as he gets up and disappears into the hallway. 

John looks after him uncertainly, not wanting to wake Arthur just because he does not fully know what is going on. He has to admit that his witch really needs any sleep he can get desperately. 

Before John can even finish debating what is happening, Oscar returns with a folded and very soft looking blanket. John can feel his muscles relax and just observes the priest’s next actions. 

Carefully, as if Arthur was the most fragile thing Oscar has ever encountered, the priest unfolds the blanket and covers Arthur’s upper body with it with the intention to keep him warm after his body already had to cool itself down in the wet clothes once today. Once is enough, so he makes sure the ends of the blanket are softly tugged under the man’s arms. 

He extends his hand towards John to give the cat a very soft pet between his ears, to which John responds with slightly pushing his head into the hand, before silently leaving the room.

Oscar decides he will wake Arthur later, in a bit. After finishing his chores around the house. Plus taking a break from his paperwork in favour of letting Arthur sleep for a bit is a welcome excuse.

John listens to the quiet clanking of pots in the kitchen that starts up soon after Oscar leaves the room and decides that he can also use the chance to get comfortable for a bit. He jumps from the desk to the padded chair Oscar was occupying just a few minutes ago as quietly as he can and lets his body sink into the soft material before closing his eyes as well.

Chapter Text

Arthur is drowning. His lungs burn uncontrollably and his body feels so very cold. Arthur is drowning and as he opens his eyes in panic everything is blurry. His body has no chance to calm with the burning in his lung not leaving and his limbs feeling colder with every second passing. 

In a state of pure panic, Arthur’s head turns in all directions, almost certainly draining a muscle in his neck due to the gruff movement. His body is sinking and his ears start to hurt from the pressure being put on them. Arthur moves his arms in his panic, but soon realises he does not see where the surface of the water is. His instinct is to swim up, against the way he is sinking but after a few seconds realises it gets colder the more he continues. 

It feels like all air has left his lungs ages ago, like his body has lived without it for a while. His wet clothes cling to his skin and make every movement of his arms and every kicking of his feet so much harder. 

And it gets quiet. No noise can reach him down here, everything muffled by the water in his ears and in front of his eyes. It is almost peaceful. This was not the way he wanted his life to end, still it feels like he can not fight anymore. 

It is ironic, isn't it? To leave this earth the same way he caused someone else to leave it. 

A feeling of acceptance makes its way through his body and warms his heart. He has tried fighting, yet there is no way he can see out of this. 

The water distorts in front his eyes slightly as bubbles leave his mouth. With a final kicking of his legs he closes his eyes and-

A voice, panicked, desperate and scared, makes its way through the silence of the water in his mind. 

“Arthur! Fuck, Arthur! Where are you?” 

He lets his eyes fly open again, movement at the edge of his field of vision rips him back into the moment. Four little legs are kicking the water, searching the surface for him and indicating the way out of here. 

Still, his arms feel heavy and hurt, and every attempt to move them fails. His legs seem to be in a bit better shape, and, even with his kicks not feeling as strong as he wants them to be, he can feel the water move around his face, around his body. 

With a few more jolts of his legs he breaks the surface, lungs sucking in the air greedily the second his head is surrounded by air again. 

A cry of relief just barely registers in his mind as he looks around hastily, looking for his way to the shore of whatever body of water he is in. 

Lights not too far away illuminate the waterside and feel like a guiding light in the darkness that still surrounds him.

The motions of his limbs would look like the ones of a toddler just learning how to swim to anyone watching from the sidelines. But no one is there, so Arthur is all alone with the challenge to make it out of here.

All alone besides the one person who has never left his side, whose voice registers in his mind, but does not fully get processed. John is swimming beside him, having sunk his teeth into the collar of Arthur’s shirt as soon as he resurfaced. 

John is fully aware he won’t be able to keep Arthur’s head above the water, regardless of this he will be damned, if he does not try his hardest to help Arthur make it to safety. It has always been the two of them, ever since they met, and that will not change today. He will keep cheering Arthur on, tell him how they have almost made it and show that he truly believes that they can make it out of this.

The seconds until they reach the shore feel like hours, and every time Arthur’s head drops below the surface for just short of a second, John’s heart drops right with it, so scared that this will be the final time Arthur sinks and does not make it back up.

As they reach the parts of the body of water where Arthur can feel his arms and legs brush up against the rocks beneath them, he uses this chance and instead of continuing the last few meters swimming or standing up, he crawls his way out of the water. His arms shake below him and feel like giving out every time he tries to support his weight with them. However, against all odds, he makes it. He reaches the rocks that have not yet been touched by any water and lets his body collapse on the ground. 

John is at his side in a second, checking his breathing and waiting for the water to stop spilling out of Arthur’s mouth. As he confirms that both of them have really made it to safety, a weight, which started pressing down on him the second Arthur left the bed while being unresponsive, dissolves from his gut and he collapses next to his witch. Next to his friend and soulmate. 

After a few minutes, Arthur groans and heaves his body to his side so that he can lay on his back instead, wanting to stop the rocks and pebbles underneath him to stop pressing into his face. The sight that appears before his eyes makes him gasp for air again. 

Stars.

Before his eyes the whole sky is filled with stars, every constellation and its current place in the sky appearing so familiar to him. Almost as if he has seen this before. 

He has seen this before. 

His dream comes to mind immediately, and his stomach drops. John. 

With a quick and painful motion the man sits up and scans everything around him. What he definitely remembers is hearing his familiar’s voice, the things that came after feel so blurry though. A shape next to him stands out from the ground underneath the both of them. 

Arthur’s hand reaches out quickly, but stops right before it touches John’s body. If this is like a dream it is a definite fate. A fate that will rip the most important person in his life away from him. Still, he owes it to John to make sure. And with that thought he bridges the final few centimeters and touches the side of the small body next to him. 

Warmth, seeping slightly through the wet fur clinging to his familiar’s body as his belly rises and falls with steady breaths. 

Thank god. Arthur is not a religious man, but he will gladly thank the presumed man above everyday for the life of his familiar if he has to. 

A paw on his shoulder shaking his body slightly makes Arthur wake up, in a calmer fashion than usually. His world is dipped into darkness again as the sight he usually has in his dreams leaves his eyes once again.

What does not leave is his body feeling incredibly cold and the feeling of wet clothes clinging to his skin. 

Something happened while he was sleeping. 

“Arthur! You have to wake- Arthur! Finally! You can not do this to me, do you understand?”

“John! What happened? What is going on?” Arthur’s breath is definitely not steady, nonetheless in comparison to his usual awaking from sleep it does feel like it. 

“One minute you were sleeping, the next I see you leaving the bed and our room with no comment nor getting changed. I tried to ask you what you were doing or where you wanted to head. You did not respond. I followed you immediately, I don't think you noticed? You never turned around and headed straight for the park. 

My first thought was that you wanted to go to the church, since that is usually the only reason we walk that way nowadays. It turned out that you had other plans, or well, your subconsciousness. I think you were asleep this whole time. You walked straight to the pond, which is really much deeper than I expected it to be, and without any hesitation continued into the water. Quite early on, you started to struggle, as if fighting against yourself, as if one part of you wanted to desperately go deeper and the rest of you wanted to leave. I ran after you and tried to hold you back.”

As John speaks of his attempt to wake Arthur up, the man feels a slight stinging in his upper arm and raises his hand to the spot that currently hurts, which John notices easily.

“That was me. Once you were already waistdeep in the water I clawed at your arm to try and wake you up, the only thing that did happen was you tugging your arm away from me. I tried going after you again, but you let yourself be covered by the water fully not even five seconds later. 

Somewhere along the way you walked into the pond the ground disappeared quickly, and you were gone for a good ten seconds. The water was showing bubbles where you just went underneath the surface. Then you resurfaced again, struggling as if you had been under the water for minutes. Once back on land you just collapsed into the ground. I was so scared Arthur. What happened to you during that time?”

Arthur takes in the information with a considering expression on his face. “I woke up drowning, well, in my dream. I woke up in my dream to being under water. I struggled a lot to find the surface again. When I did find it, everything felt so cold and my limbs felt numb. Somehow, I made it to the shore where I collapsed. It was still similar to the usual nightmare, this time you were fine though. I could feel your breathing and knew that during this time you made it out.”

A soft look passes John’s face. “You almost did not though. It almost consumed you, the nightmare.”

“I know. I think it is getting worse.” A deep sigh leaves Arthur’s mouth. Sounding exhausted and tired. “Time is running out. I don't know what is waiting at the end of this, but after tonight’s events I don’t think it is a very happy ending.”

“What do we do? We have no lead so far, and what if something like this or worse happens tomorrow night again? I won’t be able to stop you. What if this time you can not fight back?” A hint of desperation lies in the air while John questions the obvious.

“I need help, somewhere to stay where I can not get out.” A frown runs across his face as he thinks of possibilities to stay.

“The church? Arthur, Oscar is aware of your situation as much as one can be with no knowledge about me or what you are. He seems strong enough.” John does absolutely not like the idea of putting someone they have not known for a long time in charge of Arthur’s safety. Except, he has seen the way Oscar looks at Arthur and even if he has not said anything he is aware that Oscar is probably their safest option. 

“You are right. We should start walking there then, it is not a cold night but I can feel my body starting to shiver with all of these wet clothes.”

A small part of Arthur does not want to burden Oscar with the situation he is currently in. If he does not do so, there is no guarantee, however, that he will see the light of tomorrow’s day. 

It is not too long until they arrive at the church, and according to the information John gave him while walking, the sun started rising not too long ago, and people started to leave their houses. On one hand, this means a lot of strange looks for the man walking down the road in wet clothes, which look an awful lot like sleeping clothes, on a day with a clear sky and on the other hand, it increases the chance of Oscar already being awake. The priest has always been an early riser from what he has told Arthur during one of their talks. 

This means that it is no surprise that when they enter the church, already being unlocked for some reason Arthur can not possibly think of, but is grateful for, that they meet Oscar in the church. At the sound of footsteps in his church the priest looks up surprised just to yet again be met with a completely drenched Arthur Lester and his similarly wet. A sight that does leave him more concerned than amused this time.

“Arthur, what are you doing here this early? Are you alright?” He leaves out the obvious question of him and John being soaked through for now and awaits an answer.

“Oscar, I need your help. I hope we are not showing up at a bad time.” Arthur feels awkward standing in the middle of the church leaving wet spots in the places he stands, yet again. 

Nodding with understanding, the priest motions for Arthur to follow him, which John repeats to Arthur. 

Once they reach the private of Oscar’s home, the priest waits for Arthur to explain his situation with patience. His face contorts itself more and more with concern the more Arthur speaks. Arthur ends his retelling of the night’s events with a slightly shaky voice and the question about staying here for the night. They have grown close the past days that now already border on weeks. He shouldn’t feel so nervous about the answer, and yet he feels like a little kid again, asking his mother to sleep over at his best friend’s place and being nervous about her answer. 

"Oh, Arthur." Oscar steps closer to Oscar, taking a quick peek down to their feet to not accidentally kick or hurt John. “That sounds horrible. Of course you can stay here for tonight. We will figure this out.” He inhales slightly, as if also feeling nervous. “Can I hug you? You seem to be cold and very stressed.” 

Arthur’s body moves before his mind can catch up, and he almost crashes against Oscar who just barely managed to get his arms around Arthur in time. Neither of them cares about the water now also seeping into Oscar’s robe as Arthur melts into Oscar’s arms. His last hug has been a good amount of time in the past, and he feels so very warm. His heart beats slightly faster, and he is so caught up with noticing his own heartbeat that he completely misses Oscar’s. Slowly a pleasant heat creeps into his face, and his breathing slows down to a steady and deep rhythm, so very different from the nervous, yet inconspicuous breaths before.

They stand like this for a few seconds which feel like minutes and still way too short somehow. Arthur’s clothes dripping onto the wooden floor are the only noise that surrounds them, and, as they release each other from the hug, Oscar takes another look down to John who is just staring up at them with wide, curious eyes. Slowly, a small amount of blush creeps over the priest’s face, which makes him turn around quickly, so the man in front of him doesn’t notice. 

“I’m fetching you both some towels again.” With those words the priest makes his way to his bedroom, just to return a few seconds later with towels and some spare clothes for Arthur. 

“I’m getting an odd sense of deja vu.” An attempted joke to light up the atmosphere, which seems to work according to the sound of Oscar’s amused exhale. 

“This time we won’t need a wet towel for John, will we?” Oscar answers, almost jokingly, which just gains him a look with squinted eyes from John. Sometimes Oscar is concerned about the level of understanding this cat seems to have, although these thoughts will disappear during their study sessions most of the time. During those times he and Arthur talk about something the man has read or a different topic, when the sun shines through the window just right and hits the wall in a small ray due to some suncatchers that spin on their own, John will attempt to catch the little bright spot. And Oscar has to admit it is an adorable sight. He has never had cats, and therefore was not too familiar with their behaviour aside from things he has read and what has been told to him. It is a nice change to actually see it for himself. Especially with the pleasant company added into the mix as well.

Once Arthur and John are as dry as they can be, all of them make their way to Oscar’s study again. A place that has seen more life in the past weeks than it has seen during the last months put together. 

Oscar watches Arthur take out one of the books in the bookshelf and speaks a thought of his out loud. “Arthur, I am worried. I did not want to intrude in your business too much before, but the situation has clearly changed. May I help with your search?” 

A smile appears on Arthur’s face as he turns to face Oscar. “I would appreciate that a lot. Do you want me to hand you a book that we-” he lets a cough slip in. “I wanted to look at next?” 

After confirmation from Oscar, he puts two books down on the desk. One in front of him and one on Oscar’s side. John is sitting between them, slightly angled to the left to be able to read the book that Arthur put down horizontally next to his notes. 

The study is much quieter this time, all three of them sit in each other’s company with full focus on the text in front of them. The only sounds interrupting the silence are the pens scraping over paper with every passage in the text that either of them deems important and the sound of a page being turned. All of them are aware about what is at stake and no one wants to interrupt their own or the other’s focus.

After a few hours Oscar gets up and makes his way to the kitchen, Arthur turns his head almost as if to look after him, before turning back to the notes and text he and John are currently reading through. 

It’s not too long before Oscar returns and puts something down on the desk between them. 

“Oscar has set down a plate with two sandwiches on it and a jug of water to refill the glasses still standing on the table.” As John describes the objects on the desk, Oscar leaves another porcelain sounding container on the floor next to Arthur’s chair. “He has just put down a small bowl of water.” Those are the last words Arthur hears before John jumps off the desk to satiate his own thirst.

Carefully, as to not disturb the drinking cat, Oscar sits back down in his chair and takes one of the sandwiches from the plate. “I hope salad, cucumber and bell pepper are fine with you. All of it is homegrown.” Arthur gives the man across from him another smile and thanks him in advance to reaching out for the sandwich. Up to this point, he had not noticed the hunger that was growing in his stomach. 

At first, they start eating their lunch quietly, soon after taking the first few bites Oscar breaks the silence. He tells Arthur about his findings so far, which really are not a lot, and waits for Arthur to give his own opinion on it. The conversation dies down softly again once Oscar has brought the plate back to the kitchen and refilled their water.

It continues like that for the next few hours, both only taking breaks to have a small snack, drink or get more water and use the bathroom. At one point Oscar brings out some fish for John, after checking with Arthur what the cat is able to digest. 

The sun has set a while ago, and the study is now flooded with a comfortable warm light of the desk lamp, illuminating both Oscar’s and Arthur’s face in a warming way. A soft conversation about a text Oscar has found in one of the books has broken out. 

“It is indeed a farfetched lead, but it is worth questioning.”

“Oscar, I hardly think a German demon creature that gets repulsed by sleeping with shoes at my bedside is the answer to this issue.”

“I know. Still, there is no real lead yet. So the least you should do is ask yourself if you’ve had shoes next to your bed to rule out that option.”

A sigh fills the room. “I can’t remember for sure. The last few nights I have been too tired to have paid attention to something like this.”

John decides to chime into the conversation. “You have! A few nights ago you were too tired to put your clothes in their proper place after changing and left all of them, including your shoes, at the bed’s left side.”

After what must have seemed like a pause to think to Oscar, Arthur corrects himself. “Actually yes, a few nights ago I definitely did.”

An almost disappointed look crosses Oscar’s face before he responds. “Not an Alp then, okay.” He crosses out something from a small piece of paper that now also lies in front of him, next to his own book. 

The slightly defeated tone in Oscar’s voice does not escape Arthur. “One less thing it could be is also good, the more things it can not be the closer we will get to the answer.” In all honesty Arthur does not know whether he is trying to convince the priest or himself of that optimistic statement. 

“I know. I just worry.” Oscar’s voice does not sound directed directly towards him anymore, letting Arthur know that the man went back to skimming through his book. Arthur takes that as his own sign to get back to noting down information while John reads the book out loud to him, fully ignoring his already heavy eyelids.

The silence continues to fill the room again, and time seems to pass crawlingly. Both men can feel their minds start to wander, eyelids heavy and focus dwindling. Even John has yawned four times in the past minute. Oscar steals a glance at the clock on his desk, 2am. Definitely too late for him to be awake, those days are behind him. 

“It is late, I think this is enough reading for today. I want to make an offer, please do not feel pressured into agreeing. I would like to offer you to sleep in my room. My bed is big enough to hold two people comfortably and I am, honestly, quite scared to leave you out of my sight after what happened last night.” Oscar fidgets with the rosary in his pocket as he speaks the offer out loud. 

A moment passes by, which Arthur spends thinking before agreeing. “That is a kind offer, thank you. I think it would probably be the safest option as well. If you want me to, I also would not mind sleeping next to the bed.”

“Nonsense. Follow me.” Oscar’s hand grazes Arthur’s upper arm in shy fashion, a guiding, yet soft gesture. 

The sound of their steps fill the room as Oscar, Arthur and John, whose paws are silent in comparison to the human’s steps, make their way to the bedroom. 

Just before entering the bedroom John stops, unsure if he should come with. He has been lectured about sticking his nose where it does not belong a few times in the past and he feels like this might be one of those situations. After all, not many people want cat hair in their bedroom nor an additional presence that they didn’t invite.

A minute passes in which Oscar gives Arthur some clothes to change into, with Arthur leaving to the bathroom again after, before John’s absence is noticed. 

“Hey little guy, you can come in. I wanted to roll out another blanket for you.” Sometimes Oscar feels a bit insane speaking to a cat, but after everything he has heard from other pet owners it feels like the right move. And pay off it does, with John entering the bedroom and staring up at Oscar, waiting for him to get the promised blanket. While Oscar gets to work quiet noises in the bathroom can be heard all the way through the hallway. Arthur appears a minute later, just in time for John to lay down, loafing next to the bed on the blanket. 

Oscar gestures to the bed, which goes unnoticed by the other man in the room and speaks. “I usually sleep on the right side, however, if you would be more comfortable there I am happy to switch it up.” 

“That is fine, thank you!” Arthur, not knowing where the bed is and what height it could be, makes his way onto the left side of the mattress a little bit awkwardly. Oscar blames their lack of sleep seeing this and makes his own way onto the mattress. They share a blanket, which is mostly stuffed in between them due to the temperature in the room, neither of them wanting to overheat. 

It is not long before Arthur’s steady breaths get slower and calmer, filling the room with every exhale. Oscar carefully turns to his side, arms ahead of his chest and looking at Arthur. The small moonlight that gazes through the window lights up the room just enough for Oscar to see the silhouette of the man in his bed without giving away his features in detail. 

A movement catches his eye as Arthur in his sleep, easily told by the relaxed breaths, turns to face Oscar as well, one hand of his touching Oscar’s hand now. The priest’s breath gets stuck in his throat for a few seconds before exhaling shakingly. Arthur’s hand is softer than he expected it would be. It feels so warm, filling him with a prickling feeling all the way from his gut to his heart. Never has he felt like this before just by touching someone’s hand. 

In the back of his mind he is aware of what this means, of the consequences this could have for him. But for tonight, with the moon shining above them and the room being filled with soft, almost unnoticeable snoring from the floor at the end of his bed, he lets himself live in this moment. Slowly, very carefully as if his movement could wake Arthur he puts his second hand on Arthur’s, cradling the man’s hand with his own. 

It is not like how he has heard others describe it, falling asleep immediately and dreaming of nothing but roses and laughter. It has its own charm even if it takes longer for him to fall asleep than usual, still too nervous to fully let his breathing calm and body relax. 

However, once he sleeps, his sleep is peaceful. 

Arthur’s eyes open shortly during the night, too tired to physically react to his nightmare anymore. He feels their intertwined hands, and a similar feeling to the one the priest felt fills him just for a few seconds before his exhausted body falls asleep again. Two souls intertwined for tonight. 

Chapter Text

A crow cawing outside is the sound that awakens Oscar this morning, not the soft snoring from below his bed or the warmth in his hand. Those things do not even register at first in his mind, internally cursing out the crow for stealing his sleep and waking him before his alarm can go off. A groan of annoyance makes its way up his throat and his head tilts back slightly just to flop to its side again. He really is not a fan of being or hearing the early bird some days. 

After another few seconds of just laying there with his eyes closed the warmth in his hand and on his leg finally registers. In a moment of shock his eyes open just to see a very peaceful looking Arthur next to him on the bed, his hand still in Arthur’s and the man’s leg rested on his. A heavy feeling rises in his stomach and he feels like he is going to be sick any moment.

All the comfort this has brought him the previous night is gone in the blink of an eye, overshadowed by the heavy feeling of guilt and regret. With a stuttering breath Oscar tries to tell himself that nothing happened, that this was a friendly gesture to protect another human being from harm coming their way and that this was his duty. But his heart knows, betraying him and the lies he is trying to tell himself. 

He wants to rip his hand out of Arthur’s grasp and jump out of the bed, run away from the picture that is painted by the both of them at this very moment. But he knows there is still hope. Hope that Arthur has no clue what has happened since he fell asleep first, so he lets the rational part of his brain take over and removes his hand from Arthur’s as carefully as he can before doing the same with the man’s leg. 

Oscar’s breath is still shaky as he makes his way out of the bedroom, sneaking out like a teenager. He carefully steps over John’s sleeping body, really not wanting to disturb the cat into waking and making noise.

Halfway out the door he hears Arthur turn around and his breath catches in his throat. A string of “Please just turn around” and “Do not wake up” crosses his mind as he stands still, giving the man in his bed time to fall back asleep and not be startled by the noise that comes from the wooden floor under his feet with every other step he takes.

Once a minute has passed Oscar dares to continue his way to his study, picking up some of the spare clothes he just washed from the laundry room on the way. 

The first thing he does in his study is sit back on his chair and let his shoulders sag, mind running wild.

This should not have happened. He should not have let this happen. 

Over the past few days their dynamic has been heading this way, yet he still lied to himself that all the words spoken and touches were friendly. Denial is nothing new to Oscar, but he has not let it blind him this much before. His heart is aching with the impending rejection from his or Arthur’s side. He is not even sure who will be the one to end the fragile thing between them before it even had the chance to properly bloom.

Arthur surely must have more worries than his connection to a priest on his mind. Surely he is not the only one who feels like this can not happen.

Images of the previous night flash through Oscar’s mind. A smile in his direction so full of warmth that it makes his own face light up as well. A soft guiding touch that the other man does not pull away from, it almost feels like he leans into it. A hand cradled in his own, fitting in his like a puzzle piece made to be held. Made to be worshiped by the priest. A leg on his own after waking up, making him feel safe before the eventual realisation sets in.

With slightly burning eyes he clutches the rosary in his hand, maybe a bit too tight as his nails dig into the skin on his hands, leaving behind marks. It takes a while for his thoughts to stop circling and his mind to calm down slightly. Distracting himself by doing some paperwork is probably not the healthiest way to go about this, but it is certainly the easiest. It is effective as well, which Oscar only realises once his breathing has become normal again. 

A panicked noise followed by a soft meow coming from the direction of his bedroom makes him freeze. The fountain pen in his hand he is using to fill out the form in front of him on the desk comes to a sudden stop and spills some ink over the word he was just writing.

A part of him wants to run to Arthur, check on him and make sure he is safe. Even comfort him if he should want it. The more rational part of him knows that Arthur is safe. No one can get into the house without him noticing that easily and he has heard about the nightmares and the reaction Arthur usually has when waking up. That knowledge does little to reassure the part of him that desperately wants to make sure the man is okay. 

Instead he sits at his desk, hand gripping the pen tightly and face staring down at the paper. A hushed voice can be heard from the other room briefly, before quieting down just for Arthur to enter the study not long after.

Waking up in Oscar’s bed was nice. It felt soft and homely, especially with John still being at his side after the nightmare recurred yet again. The nightmare and panic he always feels when waking up dims the nice feeling of the soft blanket and sunshine on his skin, although it does not manage to fully spoil it. 

John is at his side in seconds and manages to reassure him easily. After waking up in a pond last night this almost feels like the nightmare does not matter anymore. Almost. 

The memory of Oscar holding his hand flashes back into Arthur’s mind, which makes a soft smile break out on his face. It has been a long time since he has felt this way about someone. The soft feeling he felt last night still runs through him at the memory of their soft touch. 

“You seem… happy. This is usually not the case in the morning. Something has changed.” John looks at Arthur expectantly and the witch can feel his eyes bore into his own.

“It’s nothing, I just-” he stops to think. How can he even put this into words? “I realised I like Oscar. More than I probably should.” A sigh can be heard at the same time John slightly snorts. 

“Last night, he held my hand. I think I might not be the only one who has realised this yesterday.”

John is kind in the tone of his response. “You did not know before? I thought it was pretty obvious from the way you talked to him . I have not seen you interact with someone like this before.”

“I may have known, just not consciously.” Arthur rubs the sleep out of his eyes, before continuing. “We should probably get up. You have not had a lot of time to just be recently, have you? Some time in the garden might be nice, would it not be?”

“The sun is out, I would like that. Just probably not too long unless there is a nice shade spot. You know how quickly black fur heats up.” John stretches while speaking, which makes his ‘too long’ coincidently appear longer spoken than the rest of the sentence. 

“Let’s see Oscar first to let him know we are awake. He is probably already at work again either in the church or the study.” A fond smile runs across his lips. “The man works more than he should.”

They check the study first and find Oscar sitting at the desk again. 

“He is sitting tensely. I can see his hand slightly shaking with the strength with which he is gripping the pen. I think he heard us enter the room, but is not looking up to look at you. Something seems to be wrong. If you want to talk to him you should let me out to the garden. This seems like a conversation that should take place between the both of you. ” John catches onto the atmosphere of the room easily. Still, he is not sure which way this conversation is going to go and would prefer for the other two men in the room to have their space for the air to be cleared of tension. 

“Good morning! I will let John out to the garden, if that is alright?” All response Arthur gets is a short nod. 

Hitting the hallway Arthur finally responds to John’s description. “I do not know what is going through his mind, but I am worried. Thank you, John.”

“Should you need me, you know I will be here.” John says as Arthur opens the front door for him. 

“I know, you always are. And I couldn’t be more grateful.” Arthur sends John off with a smile, truly appreciative of the way John knows how to read the room nowadays and give him his space when he needs it. Both of them had to learn this first, getting in each other’s way more than they would have liked. In the end it worked out. It always does work out for them one way or the other, as long as they have each other.

Arthur makes his way back to the study with fidgeting fingers. 

“I think we should talk.” Are the first words that leave his mouth, which are being met with the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Oscar now standing behind the desk, a nervous finger tapping against the wood can be heard. 

“What about?” Oscar’s voice sounds tense and questioning. 

“I woke up during the night and saw our hands intertwined. The way we have acted with each other-” Arthur can not finish before Oscar springs in and interrupts him. 

“-was nothing. It was nothing. I made sure you did not run off during the night. It is my duty to protect people.” The shine in Oscar’s eyes gets missed by Arthur.

“Oscar, the past few days, weeks. It can not have meant nothing to you. The way you looked at me.” John has mentioned this before, it must mean something. “It can not have been nothing to you. Please, the way I feel about you-”.

“Stop. Just- stop. Don't.” Oscar’s voice sounds slightly shaky as he talks, as if he were crying. No other sounds make their way out of his mouth though. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“What did it mean to you then? If you do not see this the way I do. Why would you act the way you did with me. The soft touches. You let me sleep in your bed.”

“We are friends. If we can even be considered friends after this conversation. What you are feeling is wrong, all of it is wrong. These feelings you speak of are not right..” It feels like Oscar breaks his own heart as those words leave his mouth. What he is feeling is wrong. His own feelings are all wrong.

To Arthur it feels like someone slammed a brick into his heart. Every word he could have thought of gets stuck inside his throat.

Oscar continues after giving Arthur a few seconds to answer, which he does not. “You are still welcome to use the books I have here for your research should you need them. Turning you away would be cruel and not right. Especially for someone in my position.”

With a heavy heart Arthur nods and turns around to leave towards the garden, unknowing of his next actions. 

Once Arthur has left the room Oscar sinks down into his chair again. This was right. This was the right thing to do. He should never have gotten close to the man. A man. Anyone. This is not how this works. He did the right thing, yet still his heart aches and burns, wishing desperately to take back the words he just spoke. To tell Arthur about the feeling in his chest every time he lays his eyes on him or when the man smiles at him. He desperately wants to tell Arthur how safe he feels with him. All of the warm memories of the man looking at him with a soft expression seem to be tainted by his own words now. Oscar folds his hands and lets his head fall back, trying to keep a neutral expression and steady breathing as a tear rolls down his cheek.

Arthur reaches the garden quicker than he would have liked and also not quick enough. He wants to get away, get away from the words he just heard. But at the same time the thought of telling John what he just heard makes him feel sick. 

He feels the presence of his familiar in the back end of the garden by the small Weeping Willow, a beautiful yet for its kind small tree, as John once described. It casts a comfortable shade onto the ground. Slowly he sinks to the ground, feeling the grass under his fingers as his back leans against the bark. 

“Arthur?” The question is careful and warm. The despair is written all over Arthur’s face, not leaving the conclusion of the conversation open to interpretation. Shaking his head is all the response the witch is currently capable of. 

John climbs onto Arthur’s lap, curling up on him and carefully kneading his paws in an attempt to ground the man. It does not happen often that Arthur needs this, but when he does his familiar is by his side in seconds. 

It takes a few quite minutes until Arthur’s thoughts are his own again and he can formulate actual sentences. 

Quietly he tells John about the conversation. “He never found out about who we are. I thought that would be the thing that drives him away.” A bitter laugh leaves his lips.

“Arthur… I’m sorry. I really thought this would go differently.” The regret is clear in John’s voice. 

“I’m not sure what to do now. I have a feeling that we have not found what we are supposed to find yet. I don’t want to give up just yet. We are almost done with all the books in the study.” Arthur runs his hands through John’s fur as he talks.

“We don’t have to give up. From what it sounds like Oscar is fine with us continuing the research for now. You don’t have to talk to him and can keep to yourself. If it becomes too much we can still find another option then.” 

Arthur nods in agreement. “I won’t give up because of something like this. Do you want to go back inside? I can feel that the shade is gone and it is getting a bit too warm for my taste.”

John raises his head to inspect the sun. “Yes, it has moved to a spot where the Willow has no leaves or branches to cover it. Let’s go inside then. We have a lot to work through and read.”

The air in the house hits them as soon as they step inside, refreshing and colder than outside. Definitely the right decision to come inside again.

Ahead of Arthur the door to the study comes up. He slightly hesitates before entering. 

“I’m with you.”

Arthur steps inside and right away walks to the small desk he started at when first coming here. A few books are still stacked on top of it. It is easy to grab the first one from the top, not even sending a glance into Oscar’s direction and getting straight to work. As easy as forgetting their conversation is. It still circles through his mind.

Even if starting to work on the books again feels a bit difficult at first Arthur and John make it work and find a rhythm after some time. 

They work through the first book and Oscar gets up, returning with two glasses of water and a small bowl just a minute later.

They skim through the second book and Oscar refills the vessels. 

The third book catches John’s eye twenty minutes after they start reading it. 

 A book on witchcraft, the genre they did not dare to take too many from at once, sticking to demonology and other things mostly. The previous ones they did take were all useless for their cause as well. This one is different though, with its main focus on the relationship of a familiar and a witch. It talks about a lot of things Arthur and John are already aware of or have experienced themselves.

Those parts are easy to skim through. The definitions, the process of getting a familiar and being chosen. The part on how their souls work and match feels strangely intimate to read, their relationship and how they work with each other laid out on paper in front of them. The chapter they wanted to skip at first turns out to be the most interesting one. 

‘Problems with Familiars’. A topic neither of them is too keen to look into, having already read too many books with people just badmouthing the relationship between witch and familiar.

John’s voice has filled Arthur’s mind for the last few hours, still this is the first time reading these books it sounds slightly uneasy.

“Keeping a familiar too close can cause nightmares, obsessions, physical injuries and in some cases possession. Usually these cases are rare, but not unheard of. A case study, a former friend of the author, kept a familiar close to themselves with a friendly relationship. Which is not an unusual phenomenon with witches. 

One day a nightmare started to haunt them. They retold the details and tried to puzzle a meaning together, with no success. The dream seemed random, yet still recurring every night. The dreams drained them and left them weaker in power and body. Once signs of possession showed themselves, taking over senses and leaving the witch with less and less of themselves a ritual was performed, against the witch’s wishes. The familiar was banished, the senses lost, however, did not return. Few weeks after the ritual the witch took their life. It is not clear, if this was due to consequences of the possession or the loss of a close friend. Other cases included attempts at suicide while the possession went on progessing.”

The silence in the room feels thick, laying heavy on both the witch’s and the familiar’s shoulders. 

“We should talk. Outside.”

John jumps off the desk, quickly, as if in a rush, making his way out of the study. With a slightly pale face Arthur follows. 

As soon as Arthur enters the kitchen behind his familiar he starts talking. “Arthur. No. I know what you are thinking. You can not let it progress. Not to that point.”

Arthur’s face hardens as a reaction. “No, I am not losing you. We have no idea where you would even go after such a ritual. How do I know you won’t be in pain?”

“You self-sacrificial idiot. You will die if you go down this path. Do you not see that? Or do you just not care?” John’s tone of voice is harsh, unforgiving. Despite the way John’s voice sounds at first Arthur can hear a small part of his familiar speaking with worry.

“Of course I care. I care about my life and I care about yours. Do you not realise this is an impossible decision? When we first got to know each other I promised I would protect you and I am not going back on that promise. I am not leaving you behind for the unknown.” 

His voice is certain with his decision. In his darkest times John has been there for him, they have been through the most unimaginable times and faced challenges he would have not made it through on his own. Leaving John behind is not an option. Which does not mean those are the only options they have.

“What if those are not the only options we have? What if there is another way and we just have to find it?”

John shakes his head. “The book did not state many ways to handle this, did it? We are limited in options and as much as I hate both of them I won’t let you die for this.”

The frustration is clear in Arthur’s words. “We can continue to look for a solution. There can not be only these two. Other libraries in other cities. Other witches. Other churches, if we must. We have time, if we stay away from anything that could drown me and keep me from sleep walking, we can continue looking for a solution before making such a heavy decision without knowing if there is any alternative.”

A sigh leaves John’s mouth. “You just want to put off the decision. But I understand. If I were you I would do the same. We will not give up okay? You won’t give up. Not on yourself.”

Arthur nods. He completely understands John’s concerns, still he refuses to take the easy way out, not without a fight first. 

“Let’s get our things. I also want to thank Oscar for his help. We will head back to Marie’s and leave the city tomorrow. We will find somewhere else.”

John nods in agreement and gets up from his sitting position. “We could write to Noel and Yellow before leaving Marie’s house and ask them for help? They get around a lot as well and might know someone with more information.”

Nodding twice Arthur makes a mental list of their plan. They have a plan, they will figure this out.

It does not take long for Arthur to get changed into his own clothes again and walk back to the study. Expecting Oscar to sit at his desk and look up when he walks in is clearly the wrong expectation as he steps into the room and immediately runs into Oscar’s side. 

John’s voice jumps in before he runs into the priest, he is still not fast enough to react. 

“Look ou- Nevermind. Oscar is standing at our small desk, he was bowing over the book a second ago with a concerned expression on his face. I think he read the page we left the book opened on. Which is-”

Again John is being interrupted.

“Arthur… I did not know. Why did you not say anything? It’s so clear in hindsight. I heard you talking to yourself more than any other person would. Plus your cat seems awfully sentient. I knew those looks were too smart to not mean anything!” His voice is frantic, almost as if to prove his point to himself.

“I’m sorry. I did not think you would take it very well, considering your..” he pauses for a moment and makes a gesture with his hand towards Oscar’s robe. “..position.” 

Oscar frowns, but nods shortly after. “I see. I can help you. I have never done this ritual, still I am confident that I can figure it out. I just need some time to look into it and-” 

A hand on his shoulder makes the priest stop talking. At the warm touch Arthur retracts his hand quickly, not having realised the gesture he was about to do before it was too late. 

“I am not doing that ritual.” He looks down at John, who let out a little growl at that sentence. “Not yet at least. We have decided to continue looking for a third solution until we can’t anymore. We are not giving up yet.” 

A quick look at John makes Oscar understand. “You are sure about this, I can see that. As much as I wish to help you, I understand your reason. To give up someone else’s life for yours is hard. I can help you more with looking into other ways to go about this in the coming days.” 

Arthur presses his lips together, biting on his cheek to calm his burning eyes, before replying. “We are not going to stay in New York. Other cities might have more resources and a friend of ours might know someone who can help. Genuinely, thank you for your help and looking out for us, but this is going to have to be me saying goodbye.”

A pause fills the room with silence. Oscar’s teary stare and hard swallowing is picked up by John only, who stays quiet to make this not more difficult on his friend.

“I understand. Should you ever find your way back here and be in need of help, please know that I will be here.”

“Thank you, Oscar. For everything.” He does not say it. Does not say the seven letters that hang in the air. His heart clenches at the thought of this being their goodbye, of never hearing the priest’s voice again. 

“I will see you again soon. Take care of yourself, Arthur Lester.” Both know that this is the last time they will see each other. Yet, both are too scared to make this final goodbye count. 

Arthur gives a final nod, before turning around and leaving Oscar standing in the study, John still at his side. Just as he has always been.

When Arthur leaves Oscar’s house for the final time, he does not leave with no trace. The water glass is still standing on the small desk in Oscar’s study, the sheets of Oscar’s bed are disturbed and smell like the man that was the first to ever share this bed with Oscar and the neatly folded clothes in the laundry room have cat hair on them. Soon those things will be gone too and no trace will be left of Arthur Lester’s visits to Oscar's house. Oscar will lie to himself about the time they had and the meaning it had for him, while sleeping in a cold bed and looking up from his paperwork to share a comment with the person that is not sitting across from him. And all that will be left behind is an empty space that should have been filled.

Chapter Text

The campfire between John and Arthur is warming their faces in a comforting manner. The temperature during the day has still not reached comfortable numbers, but during the nights, especially in the woods, it cools down enough for them to need something to keep them warm. The fire has burned down to a soft glow over the past few hours, only slightly lighting up their faces in the darkness. They have been travelling for a few days by this point, exploring cities big and small as they came across them and keeping an eye out for anything that could be useful.

None of the towns they have visited have had any new leads for them, thus far only being useful to stock up on food and water, plus to take a shower every once in a while. These days civilization is their only chance to do so, since Arthur strictly avoids any body of water like it contains the plague. 

Just a few hours ago, they found the spot they are currently resting at, a beautiful opening in the forest with a nice view of the sky as described by John. The opening makes it possible for the smoke of the campfire to escape the forest, leaving behind just a small residue which is taken away by a slight breeze.

It was an easy decision to spend the night here, surrounded by tall trees and enough stones to narrow down the space for the fire. They spent the first hour scanning the environment around them, hoping to not find any pond or bigger lake that would make them move onto another resting place for the night. 

After making sure that nothing capable of endangering Arthur’s sleepwalking self was close by, the both of them decided to set camp in the clearing for tonight. Most of the day has been spent walking and a calm night's sleep is needed by both of them. 

From this point on, it should not be too long until they reach Noel’s current whereabouts. A few days of walking probably, delayed by a stop in a town or village every now and then. 

The atmosphere around them is quiet, only a few crickets can be heard performing their own song. Arthur’s and John’s conversation is held in a soft spoken tone, both of them tired from the long day behind them, still both appreciate the company they are with and the stories that are being shared amongst them.

By the time the ember of the fire grows dark as well, both of them are already asleep, close to one another.

The following morning feels different to Arthur. It has been a long time since he was able to see the world through his own eyes, but for just a second after waking up he could have sworn he was able to see the clearing he woke up in. 

It looked just like John described it, with green trees slightly shaking their branches in the wind and a few treestumps scattered throughout the open space. For just a moment, it felt like he had to squint to avoid the sun blinding him, and for just a moment it felt like he was able to lay eyes on his familiar again. 

The moment is over quicker than it came to him, quickly replaced by an odd feeling in the area of his face where his eyes are. Or at least where he is supposed to feel them. 

Nothing.

He tries to move his eyes from one side to the other, even without being able to actually see that is usually within his ability. They stay still. 

Panic rushes through Arthur at the unknown feeling, his hands quickly reach out on the ground next to him, trying to find his familiar. 

A surprised John is up within seconds. 

“John, I can’t-”

“Arthur, I can-”

Both of them speak at the same time, their words nervous and unsure. John takes the second of silence after they both cut off and continues. 

“I can see. I can see myself. I am looking at myself through your eyes.”

Chapter Text

The open window knocking against its frame is what wakes Oscar on this day. The sound starts to make itself more present in his mind as the sleep and its fog, sleep's usual companion, flee from his mind. Just moments ago, the priest’s mind was filled with pictures of a dream that he can not remember anymore, fleeing as quickly as his mind came to consciousness again.

If he had to guess, Oscar would know exactly what his dream was about, a dream that has been visiting him every so often. A dream that does not plague, but fills him with a warm feeling like he is being hugged by his dearest person in the world. Once the real world makes itself known again, that feeling gets replaced by a shivering cold of absence, as if someone dumped a bucket full of ice cold water on him right in his bed.

Still, he would choose those dreams over and over again. The waking cold can not compare to the feeling he gets those nights the dream chooses to visit him. Some days it seems perfectly timed, coming to him on sleepless nights where he feels more alone than he has ever felt. Coming to him on nights like tonight.

A long sigh escapes Oscar’s mouth as he stretches out his arms above his head, before opening his eyes. The sight of his slightly cracked ceiling greets him, a stark contrast to the colours that filled his mind just minutes ago. Getting up today feels like a chore, similar to those days his kitchen was in a complete mess, because he wanted to bake a comforting loaf of bread at midnight the day before and could not clean up without falling asleep.

The first thing Oscar does, once he has managed to make his limbs comply and help him get out of bed, is check his calendar. A habit that has been part of his morning routine for years now. Today is different though, a red cross marks today’s date. Oscar exhales deeply at the reminder. He would not have needed the calendar to remember today’s date, and yet it still came too soon, even after keeping track of this day for months now.

The open window still knocks against the window frame rhythmically, swayed by the wind outside, as Oscar gets dressed in his priest robe.

His breakfast is the same as it has been every day this week. An apple and some bread he prepared the night before fill his stomach and lay heavy in it.

Usually, his routine continues after breakfast in the same manner everyday. After breakfast he heads down the small path in his garden to the church to prepare for visitors, a mass or confessions. Once he is done with his duties in the church itself, he makes his way back to his house, straight to his study where paperwork awaits.

Ever since the garden has started blooming again, he usually takes a bit of time during midday to tend to the different plants, treating them with careful hands.

Today is different. Before leaving his house Oscar heads to his study, grabbing a book he has had sitting on his desk for the last few days. Carefully picked out from the selection within his bookshelves. Instead of continuing down the path to the back entrance of the church, as he does every other day, he allows himself to walk to the left, into the grass that leads down to the dog roses. The ground immediately feels softer under his feet, his shoes flattening the grass as he takes step after step towards the section of his garden housing the dog roses.

He passes a small patch of wildflowers on his way there and takes a second to stop his steps from continuing. With soft eyes he scans the flowers to his shoes, before deciding on a specific one and kneeling down to pick it up. It is rare that Oscar picks flowers from his garden. His joy comes from seeing them grow and thrive in his garden under his tender care and not from them slowly dying in his living room after he picked them for his own selfish desire of decoration.

Today is different. He picks the prettiest flower he can find, a carnation, cradling it gently in his hand to cover its petals from the wind. It just takes a few more steps to reach his destination.

The tightness in his chest has grown with every step he took towards the earth now in front of him.

Carefully and softly Oscar kneels down and places the flower on the small grave he is standing next to.

His voice comes out shaky as he starts to speak. “Hello Arthur, hello John. It has been a year and I have still not forgotten either of you. I don’t think I will ever be able to.” He keeps his words simple, not knowing what else he would be able to say out loud.

Oscar slowly lets himself sink to the ground, sitting next to the makeshift and empty grave made in an effort to remember either of the people he grew to love and of which one is certainly gone by now. He lets his back lean against the soft hedge behind him as he tries to get comfortable on the grass. As he does this, he does not speak directly to the space next to him anymore. Even now, words still remain unsaid between them.

With shaking hands Oscar opens the book he brought today and starts to read to the empty space next to him.
His voice cuts through the sounds of the wind making its way through the hedge and the rustling of the small branches.

At this time the garden is filled with the sound of bees, the wind, and Oscar’s voice reading the words of the book in his hands. Every now and then he stops himself, the words on the page in front of him blurring through his teary eyes too much to continue.