Stay With Me
Summary: Santiago and Chrysos have a lot of feelings to work out. Spoiler alert: they still don't confess.
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: major character not-actually death (this is my Boxing Day gift to you all)
A/N: I wish I could've put Major Character Death as a real warning. Alas... such is life. Anyway :) I'm super done with writing this, I don't wanna keep going insane, I'm just gonna post it as is. It's actually pretty tame for angst on my part. Enjoy!!
Tagging: @thehollowwriter (finn mention!!!) @kitwasnothere and @nahelenia as my top 3 murderers <3
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When Santiago comes to, groggy and lightheaded, heâs greeted by the watered-down sun filtering through the seas of Octavinelle above him. Bird and sky separated only by the glass and several gallons of water, his limbs sure feeling as distant and heavy as the ocean.
Ah, he thinks, ever-intelligently. How did I end up here�
He canât quite remember. All of his recent memories are escaping like soap bubbles in the wind.Â
While he racks his brain trying to figure it out, someone approaches and kneels next to him. A single glance at the personâs blonde hair and red eyes tells Santiago all he needs to know.
âSorry about that,â Chrysos says, monotone as always. Itâs hard to tell if the merman really is sorry or not. âI usually donât get normal customers involved when 86âing nuisances.âÂ
Santiago canât help the smirk that comes to him all too easily. âAre you sure I wasnât the nuisance?â
âHard to say,â replies Chrysos with an amused huff. He stands back up and offers Santiago a hand, to help him stand up.
Something about it feels offâmaybe because Chrysosâ gaze seems so benevolent, that he seems so unbothered about gently helping someone heâd normally be too embarrassed or proud to. Still, Santiago laughs and sits up. âTight-lipped as always,â he comments, and reaches for Chrysosâ hand, pulling himself up to stand.
They hold hands for a moment longer than they need to. It feels, if he dares to admit it just to himself, niceâ
âHold it.â
As if heâs been burned, Santiago jumps away from Chrysos at the sound of Azulâs voice. Approaching them are the Octavinelle housewarden and his entourage of three.Â
Santiago notices, with a distant sense of dread, that heâs never seen Chrysos look so furious and disappointed upon seeing his upperclassmen.Â
âGet back, Parrotfish,â Floyd warns. âThatâs not the right Lionfishie to be getting all buddy-buddy with.â
How odd. Why would Floyd, of all people, go out of his way to warn him?
Santiago glances at the Octaquartet, then at Chrysos, whose expression is steadily darkening.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Chrysos says coldly.
âMy, my.â Jade conceals his magic pen, clasped tightly in one hand, beneath the other. âThereâs no need for that frigid tone. Iâm sure weâre already on the same page.â
âNo?â interjects Santiago. âNo, weâre not. Whatâs going on?â
Finn looks him dead in the eye and then cocks his head towards Chrysos.Â
Santiago turns back around, and everything changes.Â
Where Chrysos was just standing as normal, thereâs suddenly inky shadows surrounding the Octavinelle freshman. His eyes flare red-and-yellow as the ink (no, blot) viciously wraps around him in strands to form a cocoon of sorts. Santiago staggers back when the cocoon contracts, a dark purple haze spreading throughout the area and blocking out the sun. The whole dorm is plunged into a deep-sea darkness.
Itâs Chrysos and a towering Phantom now, him hovering a little too close to the glowing pendant around its neck for anyoneâs liking.Â
âWeâre running out of time,â Azul says grimly. âOur fight from earlier didnât do anythingââ
âIâll help fight him if it cuts down on time,â Santiago immediately declares without missing a beat. âIf it saves his life.â
âOf course you would. Well, stay sharp, then.â
And Santiago tries, of courseâ
âbut it doesnât stop him from misfiring at some point, trying to hit the Phantom, only for it to grab Chrysos with a sickening crunch of his ribs and hold him up in range of the destructive fire spell. Santiago can only watch as it strikes Chrysos indiscriminately.Â
The resulting wail of agony is bloodcurdling and unbearable, but not nearly as much as when the Phantom moves a thrashing Chrysos closer and closer to its chest, a gaping hole like a beastâs maw forming there, the pendant dangling right before it.
âWaitââ
Itâs what all the teachers warn about when they discuss the occurrences of Overblots. Defeat the Phantom, and the victim will come out unscathed. Take too long to destroy it, and the Phantom will⊠willâŠ
Chrysos is brought to that gap, drawn in like an object near a black hole.
Santiago canât breathe.Â
He canât bring himself to close his eyes either. Even when a sinking feeling blossoms in his stomach, gripping him with all the force of a predatorâs claws.
The âhandâ of the Phantom squeezes, another crunch of body parts that shouldnât be breakingâ
âDonât you dare take himâlet him goââ Santiago begs, but itâs useless.
The Phantom simply. Tucks Chrysos away in itself like nothing. Ignorant to his furious, fearful screams.Â
The hole in its chest closes over with viscous blot.Â
Santiago canât look away.
âAh⊠AhhâŠâ
HeÂ
canâtÂ
lookÂ
awayâ
âAAAAAHHHHHâ!!!â
A guttural scream tears its way out into the open from Santiagoâs raw throat, burning and hoarse and painful. Still begging for a life not his own, his eyes fly open as he sits up in a grieving frenzy. âChrysos, please, donât leaveâ!â
âIâm right here,â calls a familiar voice from beside him, miraculously free of its terrifying Overblot overlay. Itâs melodious and soothing, easy on the ears, just when he thought heâd never hear it again.
âYouââ Santiagoâs hand shoots out without thinking, clamping down on Chrysosâ where it was gripping the edge of his blanket.
âŠhis⊠blanketâŠ?
Only then does Santiago realize, half-delirious, that heâs on a bed in the school infirmary. Heâs not in Octavinelle, heâs not surrounded by torrents and mists of pure blot. The air is clear here, and the sun is shining bright and pleasant through the windows like it does through the forest canopy back home. Although his lungs still burn a little, everythingâs okay.
And, looking at the boy sitting right next to himâChrysos is okay. Heâs alive.Â
In silent awe, Santiago squeezes the cold, ungloved hand in his a little more tightly.
Heâs alive.
Chrysos bites his lower lip and pointedly avoids looking at their joined hands. âWhat a nightmare you were having,â he says, false indifference in his tone. âScreaming like that⊠Youâre lucky the nurse isnât in right now.â
Santiago blinks. âA nightmare?âÂ
âYes. You were trembling and crying out in your sleep. If it werenât the first time youâd shown any signs of movement in daysâŠâ Chrysos trails off, brows pressed tightly together.
Putting aside the fact that it was all little more than a bad dream, thank the Great Sevenâ âWhat do you mean, in days?â Santiago echoes disbelievingly. âI donât even know how I ended up here, and youâre telling me Iâve been unconscious for days? Hello? Way to hit me with the double whammy.â
It was an attempt to lighten the mood for both their sakes, but when the corners of Chrysosâ mouth twitch downwards and his lips thin in a stressed frown, Santiago immediately realizes heâs said something either really wrong or really stupid. Or both.
âYou donât remember what happened at the SDC?â asks Chrysos. âWerenât you there? You know, for Schoenheitâs Overblot, like Yu saidâŠâ
Santiagoâs eyes widen. He only slightly loosens his grip on Chrysosâ hand a second later. âOh, you meanââ
Toxic purple mist surrounded them, reeking of a sickly sweet concoction.Â
More saccharine still was the smile on Vilâs face. Even as blot dripped down his snow-white face from beneath his elaborate crown, he still found it in himself to pursue being the fairest one of all.Â
Showing simultaneously all and nothing of his burning jealousy and bitterness.
ââyeah, I remember,â he continues, letting out a laugh with no real humor in it. âI even remember getting a faceful of poisonous mist and then passing out right after the awards ceremony âcause I tried to act tough.â
âAt least your brain wasnât permanently damaged. Thatâs good,â remarks Chrysos with a half-hearted smirk. âMaybe youâll be out of here sooner than I thought.â
No, there was definitely a screw knocked loose if Santiago was imagining Chrysos Overblotting in place of Vil⊠much less sobbing desperately at the possibility of his deathâŠ
âŠSantiago swallows, mouth suddenly dry for no good reason. âUh-huh? I donât know, I still feel a little off.â
He nearly jumps out of his skin when Chrysos suddenly leans forward, hand subconsciously moving at lightning speed to place itself on Santiagoâs wrist. âYou still feel off? Youâre not messing with me, are you?â he asks, voice demanding with a hint of⊠something else. âI swear, I will have the nurse over here faster thanââ
âWhoa! Donât get your boxers in a twist, jeez!â Santiago exclaims, and Chrysos halts immediately. âAm I still dreaming? Did you just gaslight me into thinking this is reality? I mean, seriously, I donât think Iâve ever seen you this worried about me.â
âIâm not worried,â retorts Chrysos, although the watery look in his eyes as he tries to meet Santiagoâs gaze says otherwise. And where there would normally be an underlying bite to his tone, itâs totally absent. âIsnât it fair to ask questions when a certain someone has been unconscious for days?â
Nevermind, Iâm definitely not still dreaming.
âSo youâve been worried about me. Got it.â Hopefully that isnât giddiness bubbling up in his chest, despiteâor because ofâthe way Chrysos sputters out another denial, because it sure as hell is conflicting with his sense of spite. âWhy donât you save any of it for yourself? Youâve been a resident here way more often than me.â
Chrysos stiffens, before puffing up a little; chin lifted indignantly and gaze judgmental. Santiago wouldnât have it any other way.) âI was conscious all those times and did not actively inhale dangerous toxins made by a very powerful mage.â
Seriously, this guy⊠Santiago shakes his head. âDude, I heard you nearly turned yourself into sand that one time, also because of âa very powerful mage.â I saw for myself when you couldâve died fighting Jamil or Overblotted at the same time and had to stay in the infirmary for a very lengthy check-up. You know, youââÂ
died in my dream because of me and I would never forgive you or myself for that matter if that actually happened,
ââare a grade-A idiot getting hung up on the wrong details,â he decides to say instead. âOne of these days, youâre gonna end up back here and Iâm gonna get to say âI told you so.ââ
âHmph.â Chrysos scoffs and turns his head away. To anyone else, it might look aristocratically prim and stuck-up in the way his hair tosses slightly. âYou wouldnât come running to my bedside crying out my name, then?â
Itâs Santiagoâs turn to stiffen, feeling called out in too many ways. â...fuck, I forgot you heard me talking in my sleep. WellâŠâ He pauses, searching for an appropriate response. âI would if you wanted me to.â He doesnât have time to appreciate how smooth that was on his part before his traitorous mouth moves faster than his brain, going right ahead and saying, âAnd Iâd still do it even if you didnât want me to, âcause if you die on me Iâm absolutely going toââ
Crap! Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack!
He shuts up immediately before he can incriminate himself any more, pursing his lips and watching carefully for signs of a negative reaction.
Almost too neutrally, Chrysos glances back over at him from the corner of his eyes, the piercing look in his irises only partially hidden by his lashes. â...You really would be that concerned?â
âMaybe,â Santiago answers, pasting on a nervous smile.
ââMaybeâ isnât an acceptable response.â Chrysos looks him straight in the eyes. His hand feels warmer, for some reason. âDonât be shy. What would you do?â
Santiago huffs defensively. âFancy that, you telling me to not be shyââ
âSantiago. Stop messing with me already.â
That tone, desperate and curious and impatient all in one, is singlehandedly more commanding than any other order Santiago has ever gotten in his life.Â
The beastman slumps back against the headrest, being sapped of his will to argue. He already knows itâs pointless. Itâs kind of hard to beat around the bush when the bush has already slapped you in the face with a very thorny nightmare. âMiss you, probably. I mean, I dreamed about it, butâŠâÂ
He thinks about the way he screamed and forced himself to wake up because that scenario had seemed so real. Probably can only begin to describe whatever he was feeling.
â...Well. Youâre the only person whoâs ever gotten me, yâknow, so donât die because you couldnât help yourself. I donât wanna have to cope with my dream becoming reality. Please,â he finishes lamely.
âOh.â Chrysos stares blankly at him for a moment, then at their hands. â...oh,â he repeats, in a much quieter âsudden realizationâ sort of voice.
Santiago squints at him. âDude. What kind of guy tells his buddy to open up about his feelings in such a pleading tone and then is surprised when he actually opens up about it?â
âThe one right next to you who was expecting his buddy to dodge the question again.â
âTell me something I donât know,â Santiago replies, rolls his eyes.Â
Chrysos worries his bottom lips, gaze shifting to the side suspiciously quickly. It looks like heâs considering something.
â...Are you taking that literally?â Santiago wants Chrysos to take what he said literally, to be honest, but thatâs beside the point.
âBecause youâre so dense, yes,â Chrysos snaps back. His free hand comes up to tug one of his curls closer to his face in that bashful way he always does. âIf you died like you couldâve from Schoenheitâs poison, I would march right over to the afterlife and drag you back into the world of the living. Then Iâd beat you into the ground for hurting me like that. Your ass is not leaving this life until I say itâs okay to. Does that make enough sense to you?âÂ
âI donât remember the story of the musician and his muse being this violent,â mutters Santiago, feeling incredibly touched despite the brash nature of that admission. Or maybe because of it.
Chrysosâs cheeks flush as red as the ends of his hair. âYou asked. I delivered. Look whoâs being a hypocrite now.â
âTouchĂ©.âÂ
It feels like something between them has⊠changed, when they both fall silent for lack of things to say. Not in the terrifying way Santiagoâs surroundings shifted during his nightmare, but a change for the better. Like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, making the silence bearable.
âI⊠think I may need to go,â Chrysos says, a dusting of pink still on his face. Maybe because heâs spoken too much, or at least by his own standards. He stands up, letting go of Santiagoâs hand. âCulture fair and. All that. You know how it is. Iâll see youââ
âWait a minute.â
Santiago reaches out and, instead of just grabbing, intertwines their fingers. His longer ones settle perfectly between Chrysosâ knuckles as if they were meant to be there.Â
The merman goes still.Â
âHypothetically,â Santiago begins, âif I asked you to stay a little longerâwould you say yes?â
Chrysosâ mouth opens, freezes, and then closes. When he next speaks, itâs slow and cautious, like heâs testing out how the words actually feel. Testing the waters. âIn this hypothetical scenario⊠I could be convinced to stay. Possibly.â
âCool. So donât run away just yet. Stay here with me.â
They make eye contact.
â...How persuasive. Wellââ Chrysos sighs and sits back down, before offering Santiago a small smirk. Barely noticeable, but there. âIt seems like Iâve actually got plenty of time to spare all of a sudden.â
Santiago canât help but smile too.
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