This is really short and I wrote this in, like, thirty minutes, but I hope you enjoy, anyways! This is my first time writing for The Witcher, and I know I didn't get their voices right (like, at all), but I'm going to work harder at it! Please consider leaving a review! It really lets me know how I can improve. Thank you and enjoy!
"I'm going to die one day, Geralt."
Geralt's hands froze from where he was kindling their fire. What? How did that come up? The bard was just tuning his lute while Geralt set up the campsite for the night. Where did this even stem from?
Geralt, eloquent as always, replied, "The fuck, Jaskier?"
The bard snorted, stilling his hands and setting aside his beloved instrument. He rested his forearms on his knees and gazed at Geralt intently. "It's true, you know. I'm human, you're enhanced. You'll live longer than I."
All Geralt could do was stare back, incredulity coating his features. Words escaped him. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?
Jaskier must have noticed the dilemma his witcher was facing because he gave a slight chuckle, bowing his head before lifting it again and giving Geralt a small smile. "What are you going to do when I'm gone?"
Continue on, continue hunting, do what I've always done, Geralt thought, but the idea sounded sour in his own head. A frown marred his face. That was what was supposed to happen, right? He couldn't stand Jaskier's presence, so he should be perfectly fine without it when the bard was dead...right?
Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "Your silence is unsettling for once, Geralt."
The witcher's brain short-circuited. If he could give his companion an answer, he would've already said it, but none of it was making sense. He always found himself wishing that Jaskier would leave, that the bard would stop talking, singing, humming, playing music. He constantly wished for peace and silence. That's all he wanted. So why did those words taste so bitter in his mouth when he hadn't even said them aloud yet? He should be quick to say, "I'll move on."
But that wasn't true, was it? And he knew it to be false. He knew he wouldn't be able to "just move on" because, for as much as he complained about Jaskier tagging along, the bard had filled a void in him he hadn't known was empty. Whenever they separated, the Path suddenly seemed a thousand times lonelier, as if it hadn't been excruciatingly solitary before. He found himself missing the sound of the lute or hearing Jaskier's voice as background noise to calm his own rampaging thoughts.
So, no, he wouldn't just move on, would he? Life was never quite that simple, was it?
"Hello? Geralt? Are you even listening anymore?"
Geralt blinked. Jaskier was studying his face, eyes narrowed and confused. How long had they been staring at each other? What was the question again?
Luckily, the bard seemed to understand his unspoken question. With an exasperated huff, Jaskier rolled his eyes and gestured grandly, "Look around you, Geralt! This is the life you live! By your lonesome, in the woods, with no company except your horse - no offense to you, Roach, you're lovely - but you have no one else here to keep you company! You say witchers don't feel, but I can tell you firsthand that that is very much not true, my friend. I have seen you hurting or loving or wanting. I've witnessed you smile and, on very rare occasions, laugh. So don't say that you'll be fine, Geralt. You and I both know you don't do well alone, no matter how much you'd like to believe."
Geralt could feel his heart clench at every single word Jaskier spoke. Fuck. As much as he hated to admit it - and maybe he didn't hate it that much - the bard was right. Somehow, some way, the annoying bard he met at some backwater tavern in Posada managed to worm his way into his cold heart and made himself extraordinarily comfortable.
He...missed Jaskier when they separated from time to time. Yes, he'd admit it. He'd miss the bard, but it was never really that bad because Geralt knew he would always run into his companion again eventually. But what would it be like when the bard didn't even walk the Continent anymore? What would he do when there would no longer be a "next time?"
He watched Jaskier's eyes lock onto his, and a lump lodged in his throat when the bard asked again, "So...what will you do when I'm gone?"
Geralt clenched his jaw and glared at the ground for a moment, attempting to make sense of his thoughts, gathering the right words to say. With a silent deep breath, Geralt opened his mouth and said,
"I…"
The words he intended to say fell short, trapping themselves in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, they lodged themselves in his throat, his chest, his lungs. Unmoving and stubborn. He knew what he wanted to tell Jaskier - "I would miss you. I would think about you everyday. I would spread the story to anyone who'd listen about the bard who made a witcher feel emotions. I'd visit your grave, and I would talk to you even though you aren't there. I'd have a hole in my chest that could never be filled again, and I think I might just cry." - but the words wouldn't voice themselves out loud.
Horror grew in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't want to see the reaction of Jaskier's face when his companion - his best friend - realized that Geralt was too prideful and pigheaded to speak the words he wanted to say. He didn't want to see the betrayal and hurt because those emotions had never looked nice on Jaskier's beautiful face.
Instead, a softness grew in Jaskier's eyes and the smile he received was bright, albeit a bit sad. Jaskier nodded slowly, a kind expression passing over his gentle features. He gave a light hum.
The bard whispered gently, "I understand." And, with those two words, Geralt knew he did. How could he ever doubt Jaskier, think that Jaskier wouldn't know what he meant? All these years...of course, Jaskier knew. And he knew that Jaskier caught the underlying meaning in Geralt's failed message because his friend replied back to it with a tender,
"I love you, too."
Geralt hesitated before responding with one of his signature hums. His amber eyes lingered on Jaskier's smile for a second longer, then he turned his attention back to the dying fire. A weight settled on his chest. He didn't like thinking about Jaskier's mortality, hated the idea that the bard wouldn't stay by his side forever, but as long as Jaskier knew what Geralt couldn't say, then maybe…
Maybe these remaining years wouldn't be so bad.
Thank you so much for reading! As I said before, please leave a review and let me know how I can improve on this, especially since I have another fic in the works for this fandom. Thank you again!