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~Chapter Eleven~
I Get Allergic to Magazines, Sort Of
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Now the thing about being famous is that everybody knows you. Your local politician, your local politician's grandma, your local politician's great grandma, your local politician's great great grandma-
You get my drift.
In other words, unless you can go super ninja mode and turn invisible, someone's definitely bound to recognize you. Such is Master Hand's rule of thumb: Never go on stealth missions without serious backup.
Too bad I never cared for the rules.
I exhale. With the track record I'm setting this week, I sound like a teenage rebel, but in all honesty, I do try not to get on Master Hand's shitlist. He's got a fair point when it comes to making decisions about our safety, but when you suspect that your best friend's dad is beating the living shit out of his son, then all conventional rules have to take a backseat.
Toon steps away from the ticketing machine. "-and we reserved four tickets for the next SkyTrain. We're lucky they didn't run out."
"Awesome, man. Which gate?"
"Gate Five in fifteen minutes. It's the train heading to Hoenn."
Fifteen minutes to the terminal. My feet refuse to stay planted on the ground, because I'm antsy that this train can't arrive quickly enough. "We'd better scram," I say.
Popo pats me in the back. "Speaking of scram, there's like, people looking at us."
Sure enough, there's already a few people giving us funny looks in the subway station. From the way things are going, it's not gonna take long until someone exposes us.
I rack my head fast. "Let's all switch weapons. Hand over your hammer to me, I'll give my bat to Toon, and Red can take Toon's sword."
"Dude, no one's gonna be fooled-"
"Hey look, Smashers!" A huge gaggle of teenage girls flock over, all of them dressed in the typical white and green of junior high students. "Toe-tah-lee kawaii."
Fangirls.
Don't get me wrong. There's nothing better than meeting and greeting a fan on the job. Some are so freaking awesome that simply talking to them genuinely makes my day. You got two kinds of fans: you have the cool fans, and you have the shy fans.
Then you have the rabid shipper.
I'm not trying to be rude. For god's sake, my little sister's a shipper, and she turned out fine. But when I say, rabid shipper, I really mean RABID shipper. No logic nor reason can deter these menaces of society from tearing down steel walls and razing towns in a frenzied rampage for the sake of a ship. They're like freaking members of a religious cult.
Registering incoming danger, Toon shrinks back. "Oh no. We need to get out of here-"
Popo gives an appreciative whistle. "Damn, those chicks got style."
I shake my head. Style or not, if they're rabid shippers, I'm outta there faster than Donkey Kong.
The girl who called us out points at me and squeals, "Omigosh, who are you supposed to be?"
"I'm, uh... not Ness. Because I'm totally cosplaying. Yeah."
"No duh, silly. Of course you're cosplaying! Ness has blond hair. You're the other one... the straight one. Linus." She waves her trashy vape pen into my face, and I cough when the artificial cherry sears my nose. "I ship you two together."
Sweating profusely, I step back. I haven't decided if I should feel offended by her mixing us up or by her butchering my best friend's name. "Um, cool."
"I know, right?! You two are my OTP!" she squeals.
OTP? The hell is that? An STD? I hope it isn't contagious. I edge off to the side, not wanting to catch her weird fangirl vibes.
Popo smooths out his hair. "Free smoke break? Jackpot."
"No, you pothead," I hiss, yanking him back. "Let's make a break for it-"
"Chillax, I got this."
"You don't 'got this.'" HELP ME, I mouth to Red, but he's busy warding off his own rabid fangirls, who are now trying to nick his pokeballs. Heh. Shitty wording there.
Popo struts forward. "Hello, ladies. Care to share a smoke?" he says in a voice oozing with charm, and I turn around to gag behind my hand. Where is the nearest restroom? And where the fuck is Nana when you need her?
Suddenly, leaving Nana behind seems like a huge mistake.
Another girl squeals at Popo. "Oh, I've seen that parka before! You're like... you know-"
Popo's eyes light up. "Yeah...?"
She snaps her fingers. "-yeah! That nobody on the roster!"
All the light disappears out of Popo's eyes. I can see the dismay crash out of him in droves. Popo's game franchise is as dead as mine. He's got a rep in the competitive world and flirts like crazy around any girl, but as for being well-known by any rabid shippers? Nah.
"Aw babe, that's not true-" he complains, trying to win her attention back, but the girl has already set her eyes on her newest prey.
"GwaAH, Toon Link is so friggin cute," she exclaims, pinching both of his cheeks.
Toon yelps and pushes her away. "Ow please stop, personal space-"
Quick on his toes, Red drags him away from the Ring of Fire. When the rabid fan tries to sneak around and make another stealthy grab, Red shoots her a withering look that would've frozen an Olympic wrestler in his tracks.
The fangirls squeal harder.
Super effective. I grimace and clap my hands over my half-dead ears.
"I love this one though," another swoons, staring up at Red with adoring eyes. "He's like, the strong, silent type."
The corners of Red's eyes crease. "I'm not silent," he says in a low voice. Hanging around Lucas must've rubbed off on me, because I catch the subtle shift in his tone. Yeah, I think they've hit a nerve there.
"He's all right," another fan agrees, trying to feel his biceps, but Red raises his arms out of reach. "I ship him with Toon Link-"
"TOON LINK? Baka, haven't you heard of Subspace?" Her friend scoffs, crossing her arms. "I ship the Pokemon trainer with Linus-"
"Lucas," I correct, irritated. "At least get his name right."
"I ship Ness with everyone!" one exclaims.
They all turn to look at me. Their eyes gleam.
Oh, fuck. Not this shit again.
Grabbing Toon by the wrist, I turn tail. "Run!" I scream.
No explanation needed. Red scoops up a catatonic Popo - still mourning over his single status - before jogging after me.
The tension cracks. "They're escaping," someone shrieks. "After them, bakas!"
We sprint away in mortal terror, the screaming rabid fans hot on our tail. One of them almost nabs Toon by the wrist in a sneaky ambush, but I yank him away. Just in time. Her hand sails over Toon's head.
"Thanks," Toon gasps, stumbling to his feet. "I owe you-"
"It's okay, I got your back-" I glance down. "Or I guess your arm? Elbow? Dunno, whatever works."
Red speeds up by my side. If it isn't for the fangirls chasing after us, Red looks like he's merely doing his early morning jog around the trackfield. Even in times of great danger, Red holds his fucking composure. He is truly a brave soul.
"Gift shop. Around the corner," Red says.
I get the hint. "Hit the deck!" I yell, skidding into the gift store.
We scatter into different aisles. Diving behind a glass stand, I tear through the magazines, grabbing one and flipping to a random page. The customer next to me, a middle-aged guy the size of Ganondorf, gives me weird look.
I grin and wiggle my fingers. "'Sup?"
His gaze drops to my hands. The man pales, and he slowly inches away.
Geez, what's his deal? I thought waving was a fucking courtesy.
I roll my eyes, then peer over the rim of my magazine. Not a moment too soon. The thunderous roar hits my ears before the stampede of fangirls scream past the gift shop. Their footsteps quickly echo out of existence.
Safe.
Lowering the magazine from my face, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
Sulking under his breath, Popo turns the corner of the aisle. "Well, that sucked. I almost scored a lucky vape-" When Popo abruptly freezes, catching sight of me, he snorts and turns back around.
"What are you laughing at?" I demand, stomping over to him.
"Didn't know you were into those kind of books," Popo chokes out.
Confused, I flip the cover of the magazine over. Or what I thought was a magazine. As I stare blankly at the suggestive pose of a half-naked Link wrapping his arms around a wimpy-looking Roy, very slowly - as if the magazine is about to burst into flames in my hands - I face the aisle that I'm standing in.
Those aren't normal magazines.
Horrified, I drop the graphic novel. "Oh, fuck."
Popo loses it. He cracks up and collapses onto the floor.
"I didn't touch anything," I shriek, but when I scoot away, I accidentally bump into a store worker.
The store worker turns around. "Hello, how can I help - ah. Yes. Welcome to the doujinshi aisle," he says in a bored monotone, sounding like he's been asked to guide people through this shit too many times. "Here, you can read your favorite yaoi and yuri erotica about Smashers in their daily lives-"
"I don't look like that," I yell, pointing to another simpering cover of me.
Popo's stupid eyes light up. He pushes me aside. "Ooh, let me see. Stealing Second Base. For the Power of Love. I PK Love You. You Light a PK Fire In My Heart?!" To my bemusement, Popo breaks out into a loud cackle. "Ness, come back, the reviews are even better-"
"Can we go now."
"Noo, listen - Smash Otaku dubs You Light a PK Fire In My Heart as the Nesscas bestseller of the year. An astounding and incredible masterpiece, You Light a PK Fire In My Heart is no doubt a must-read generic High School AU jam-packed with cliche drama, passion, and betrayal by the likes of which the World has never known before-"
"Okay that's enough spicy sauce for you. Scoot, friendo," I say, making a swipe for the magazine, but Popo holds it out of reach.
"Dude, check out the review from Yaoi Times: ZOMG plz update. Best manga 4eva. Raunchy. Sexy. Scandalous. Beautiful, slutty smut that leaves fans begging for more-"
Determined not to listen, I plug my fingers into my own ears. "Lalala, I'm not listening-"
"These are comedy gold, man. Hey, here's another one-" He swipes a manga off the NEW RELEASES shelf and reads the cover out loud. "Through Thick and Thin."
"Even the title sounds stupid."
"Hey, as Robin says, don't judge a tome by its cover-"
"Those aren't tomes," I say plainly. "They're PORN MAGS. Now if you're done having fun, can we leave?"
"Hahaha Ness, it's got seme Lucas in it."
Disgusted, I clap my hands over my flaming face. Seme? The fuck is that? Glancing at the dirty novel in Popo's hands, I cringe. Hypocrite, I know, but it's weird seeing my own body objectified for someone else's enjoyment. "Don't. Just... don't."
Ignoring me, Popo cracks the novel open to a random page. "What the hell- bro, there's like, twenty thousand moans on this page-"
I rip the book out of his hands and slam it back onto the shelf. "I said, DON'T! We're not reading that shit!"
"Chillax, this was rated T-"
"Say that when it's your body plastered on there."
"Me? Nah, bro. You get way more fanservice." Watching me fume, Popo laughs and raises his hands. "Hey, it's not really you. No one's breaking the Privacy Act."
"Yeah? Well gee, I feel plenty violated."
"These were drawn by your fandom artists-"
"Crazy artists, more like," I say with a shudder.
"Cmon, Ness, let it go." When I continue eyeing the aisle in horrified disgust, Popo frowns. "Seriously, lay off the fans. It's not worth getting pissed over. At least they're not gonna damage your rep. Must suck to be Fire Emblem." Popo turns around to admire and check himself out in one of the manga covers. "Hot damn, they make me look tall and smexy. Hooo boy, I'll be digging all the hot chicks in no time." Popo's face darkens. "But I think I saw a few here with Nana on them..."
Staring holes into another edition with a lewd-looking Lucas scrawled on its cover, I silently conjure a PK Fire. Slow flames dance on my fingertips. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Popo cracks his knuckles. "Bro... Let's burn them all."
It's a good thing that Red shows up and stops us, because if he didn't, we would've torched the whole place down. As Toon profusely bows apologies to the terrified store worker, Red quickly drags us away by the scruff of our shirts. The store clerk looks rather relieved to see us leave.
"That was close. Way too close," Toon pants, the tips of his ears a bright pink. He looks aghast. "What were you two doing in the gay porn aisle?"
For once, Red's face matches its namesake color. He glances at me then at Popo, before significantly clearing his throat. "I don't want to know..."
"I'm not gay!" Popo screeches.
"I am, but not for him!" I screech back.
Toon shakes his head. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter..." he trails off, looking at the boarding schedule. "The next train's coming in five minutes. Let's try not to miss it."
Popo twists around in Red's iron-lock grip. "The next magazine I see with my sister in a bikini, I'm going to lose it," he snarls, hoisting his hammer. "Ness, keep a good eye out for any perverts."
"Don't count on it. My eyes have been scarred for life," I groan, slumping over on Red's other arm.
A woman's cool voice pleasantly filters into my ears. "Welcome to the SkyTrain. Please stand behind the yellow line."
The bullet train screams into the station, its wheels grating against the iron tracks. The subway doors zing open, and Red hoists us back onto our feet. We quickly file in. When no one else bothers us inside the train, I think our sigh of relief is very audible.
The doors zing shut.
"We are now approaching... Hoenn."
"I think that went well," I say.
Everybody groans.
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~oO0Oo~
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As soon as the subway shoots into the dark tunnel, Popo clocks out, loudly snoring against the window. Next to him in the aisle seat, Red slouches against the comfort of his own headrest. The brim of his cap tilts over his face.
I glance to the side. Resting his chin atop his tucked hands, Toon stares out the window. I squint past the reflective sheen of the glass, but it's too dark to make anything out. Then again, I have a feeling that Toon isn't really looking at anything in particular.
Slowly, I poke his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm okay."
The bullet train rattles. The hanging straps jolt, swinging on impact.
I glue my eyes to the back of Red's seat. "I have a little sister too."
This does the trick. Toon stirs. "How old?"
"A few years younger. Tracy's a handful." I crack a smile. "We give each other so much shit, but if anyone tried to kidnap her, I'd do anything to get her back."
"Same." Toon's ears relax from their tense posture. "Aryll's like my best friend."
"Sisters are frenemies for life," I agree.
His expression softening, Toon turns away from the window. "Hey, Ness."
"Yeah?"
"Once we land in Onett... how are we gonna help Lucas?"
Lucas.
I clench my fingers so tightly that my nails dig into my jeans. Thinking about Lucas is too painful. I recall the havoc I'd wrecked over the past week, think of all the times I pushed his patience and hurt his feelings, and my heart sinks from shame. How I wish I could take everything back.
"I'm just hoping to find him. Make sure he's all right and stuff." I give Toon a fleeting glance, but when he doesn't lift his head, I look back down at my own hands. "You know, I didn't mean any of that talk. About you being childish or whatever. It's just... last month, I found out that my dad was cheating on my mom." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I suck at keeping things in. I know it doesn't condone me for being a dick, but I'm sorry I took it out on all of you. It's wrong."
"It was wrong," Toon repeats quietly, and I drop my eyes. It's to be expected. I was an asshole, and Toon has every right not to forgive me. However, he continues, "-but none of us made things easy for you either. I'm sorry we kept pressuring you to talk." Toon gives a hesitant glance my way. "Did... Did your parents get divorced?"
Divorced.
That word nails me right in the chest. It's a word commonly tossed around the latest celebrity gossip circlejerk.
But I never thought that it'd ever happen to my parents.
I let the response slip through my numb lips. "Yeah."
"Oh." Toon's ears droop down. "...That's rough. I'm not sure what I would've done in your shoes. My mom died at childbirth, and I never saw my dad's face, so..."
"Shit, I forgot. Sorry for bringing that up-"
"N-No," Toon sputters, his ears flattening themselves back against his floppy sockhat. "That wasn't my intention! My grandmother's my parental figure, so if she ever broke a moral code, I'd feel pretty horrible. Because. She sounds a lot your mom." Horrified by his own words, Toon sweeps himself into a rigid bow. "Ack! Forgive me, I didn't mean to mention your mom. She sounds like a nice lady-"
"You've never even met my mom-"
"-and I'm sorry that I called you out back in the mansion!"
"It's okay. I told you, I had it coming." When Toon stays frozen in mid-bow, I frown at him. "And stop bowing at me. You're making me feel like a prick."
Toon straightens himself back up. He wrinkles his nose in thought. "You're not a prick. You've just turned... pointy."
"Pointy? Is this another gay joke or-"
"No!" His face turning red from an indignant flush, Toon crosses his arms in a stubborn fit. "What I mean is- the way everyone deals with pressure is different. I've noticed that you deal with stuff head-on. The fight over flight response. So you sometimes get prickly and lash out. Like before."
"No wonder Lucas doesn't want to see me," I say gloomily.
"That's not true."
"How do you know?"
"Uh-" Toon nervously eyes the seat in front of us. "I dunno if he's okay with me telling you this... but Lucas caught onto it first. He realized that something was up when your emotions started leaking into our empathy links. We didn't know how to help, so Lucas suggested we leave you alone." Toon grimaces. "We should've listened to him, but we got fed up with waiting. Nana - you totally didn't hear this from me- decided enough was enough. You know she means well, she's just..."
"Headstrong?"
His relief pulsates through our empathy link. "...yes. She thought we'd waited long enough, so we ended up pestering Lucas to take action. When Nana cornered him last week, he finally caved."
"Oh." I hit myself in the forehead. "So that's why Lucas kept asking me if I was okay. And I thought-" I close my mouth. And here I was, panicking about how Lucas was onto me about my stupid crush.
Lucas had been worried about me. Not that it made any difference, but still - it's nice to know he doesn't completely hate my guts.
"Pressuring you only made everything blow up. I should've known you needed space when you stayed behind at the Mansion for Thanksgiving..."
"I shouldn't have blown up on everyone. I told you, Toon- that was on me," I admit, and while it's true, the shameful confession stings my pride a lot more than I'd like to admit.
Toon furiously flails around. "Ah! Don't beat yourself up, Ness. We were all in the wrong. As a Wise Man once said, learn from past mistakes to avoid future ones."
"...Did you get that quote from your grandmother?"
Toon's ears turn pink. "She knows a lot of Ancient Chinese sayings."
I stifle a smirk. "Thanks, Toon. It's a good metaphor, but I think I'm really an asshole at heart."
"N-Not really-"
"Hell yeah, I am. I just try not to go overboard-"
"You show a lot of your soft side around Lucas."
My cheeks burn. I slam the bill of my cap over my face. "He's my childhood friend," I mutter, even though the excuse sounds lame in my ears. "There's nothing to hide when we've already seen each other at our worst."
"That, and you're considerate of how others feel. That part of you hasn't changed," Toon says, looking thoughtful. "Lucas is really insightful. I wish I've talked to him more, but he-" Sparing me a frightened glance, Toon lowers his voice. "He kind of scares me..."
I can't help it. I laugh.
Toon's face burns up. "It's true," he insists rather ruefully.
"Only because he keeps to himself. Really, Toon, Lucas doesn't judge," I chortle, wiping the rest of my giggles away. "If you haven't noticed, Lucas hangs around ME. I spout out stupid shit all the time. Do you ever see him pointing it out?"
"...Yes."
"That's only because we've known each other for years. Toon, you can speak your mind. Lucas won't judge."
"Red said so too, but it's hard to approach Lucas when we've got nothing in common," Toon confesses. "Besides, Red knows Lucas a lot better than I do-"
I give a noncommittal grunt.
"I feel like Lucas is always around whenever we see you."
"It's the other way around."
"Lucas does seem fond of you though."
I groan, "Please, Toon. Can we not."
"Everyone likes to tease you and make fun of your crush, but that's only because we know how much you care. I'm sure Lucas is very happy that you like him," Toon says earnestly.
My chest gives a pang of pain. "Nah," I manage. "I should've checked on him earlier-"
"We'll find him," Toon says firmly.
Embarrassed, I rub away the stupid moisture from my eyes. Toon returns to sightseeing the abyss outside, but to my relief, it feels like the wall between us has finally crumbled. I drag out my yo-yo, trying to steady my shaky fingers with the rhythm I knew well.
Shhhwip. Shhhwip.
After what feels like an Ice Age, the SkyTrain pulls up at the terminal. We clamber off, and the SkyTrain takes off into the air with a loud whistle of smoke. A black portal spirals into existence, swallowing up the SkyTrain and its passengers up with a pop, and wasting no time, we head straight for downtown Onett.
Everything goes downhill from there.
"I think this is where he lives," I trail off, staring up at a worn-down apartment. The bricks are gray, sad, and gloomy. Misery is practically written all over its windows.
Red taps the side of his temple.
Frustrated, I shake my head. "I can't sense him around."
"Maybe your empathy link's a dud," Popo suggests.
"Let's wait," I say stubbornly, sitting down on the icy steps. "It's getting dark. He's got to come home soon."
The sun sets quicker than I expect. The temperature drops faster than my beat, and when it grows a little too chilly for my taste, I drag out some extra clothes from my knapsack. Bundled up in my woolen scarf, Toon breathes into his hands and rubs them for warmth. I tug on a spare shirt, wishing that I'd brought more layers from the Mansion. Red shakes his head when I try to offer him earmuffs, and Popo laughs, waving my clothes aside. "I'm wearing a parka, man. It's cool."
I half-close my eyes, silently watching my breath escape into the air. Half an hour has already passed. At the rate this is going, we may have to spend the night at my place and check on Lucas in the morning. Though I didn't expect anything after a week of silence, I send Lucas a text and wait.
The sun dips below the horizon. The stars shimmer into the sky.
Lucas is nowhere in sight.
Where is he? My breathing sounds heavy and ragged in my ears. I check my watch compulsively for every second. Every sound has me jumping to my feet, hoping to see a familiar lanky figure, only to realize that no one is there. I sink back into the cold stone steps.
Sometime later, Popo stretches his arms, and throws me a deliberate glance. "Man, I hate to be a party pooper, but I think Toon's freezing to death."
"No, I'm n-n-not," Toon mutters, burying his head into his scarf. The tip of his nose pokes out into the cold air.
I curse under my breath and jump to my feet. "Toon, you think you can duke it out for another hour?"
Toon nods vigorously. "Yeah, I'm just going to j-j-jog in place."
Willing heat into my palms, I rub sparks of magic into my fingers. "Let me PK Fire-"
"Nah, that won't help. Like bro, I can hear his teeth chattering."
"I'm not used to the c-c-cold, that's all-"
"Yeah, right." His frown deepening, Popo shrugs off his parka. "Hey, wear this."
Toon shakes his head. "I can hold out-"
"Dude, wear it," Popo says firmly, prodding him with his parka. "I'm telling you, this weather is like springtime for me."
"Or we can head over to my place," I say, exhaling another smoky breath into the air. "I'll call my mom. I'll walk you three over, then double back for Lucas-"
"But we're all out of Smash City. We should stick together," Toon whispers.
"I can wait it out alone. I've lived here all my life."
Popo slaps a hand on my back. "Dude, give up. I think we've got the wrong place-"
I shrug his hand off. "No, I'm telling you, he lives here-"
"Well, then your memory's shit because you're tired."
"I'm not tired!"
"Ness, we can search again tomorrow morning. Lucas should be here for sure-"
"How would you know?" I shoot back. "If it's snowing this badly, Lucas might have a hard time getting home-"
"Lucas can look after himself. But you?" Popo grimaces. "Bro, you're not going to do any of us a favor by getting sick."
"I'm staying," I say stubbornly.
"Uh-huh. You do that." Popo shoves me in the back with the sole of his foot, and I topple down the icy stairs. Pushing myself back up, I shoot Popo a nasty glare, but it stands no chance against his chill. "I'm serious. I can tell when a winter storm's coming, and this one's only going to get worse."
"PK Fire." Flames tickle my fingers, and the welcome warmth washes over my face. "See, I can stay out for a bit."
"So can Lucas."
"That's not the point," I say, exasperated.
Popo makes a choked noise as if trying to stifle his amusement.
But he fails.
Miserably.
Popo clutches at his ribs, tickled silly by another fit of giggles. "Oh, I see what this is all about. Dude, Ness, talk about desperate."
Puzzled, I glance at him. "Desperate?"
"It's obvious, in'nit? Give up, man. You're not going to win him over like this."
Not this again! Thoroughly pissed off, I stand up. "I'm not trying to win him over-"
"You are a sorry, sorry fool," Popo says, slapping me in the back, his cheer undiminished. "I feel you, man. Admit it. You're just hoping Lucas is abused so you can step in and rescue him."
Bewildered by Popo's sudden attitude change from moron to dickface, I turn around in disbelief. Thankfully, Toon looks just as confused, and Red has even quirked an eyebrow up.
Popo has to nerve to laugh at that, the jackass.
I clench my teeth. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing, man. Geez, learn to take a joke, Nessie. I was just kidding-"
"That wasn't funny," Toon says quietly.
Popo doesn't look the least bit contrite. He claps me in the shoulder with a wide smile. "Ness, my man! There's no point in waiting for someone who's never going to show up. Lucas isn't coming. I say we ditch him and go home-"
"For the last time, I'm not leaving Lucas behind!"
Nobody speaks up.
Then shaking again with suppressed laughter, Popo claps both his hands over his mouth. Okay, that's the last straw. I'm about to tackle him when I'm suddenly aware of something else breaking the silence. Soft, ragged breathing.
Very slowly, I turn around.
Lucas stares at me.
Well, fuck.
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~oO0Oo~
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I don't know who's more surprised to see each other. Lucas's face has gone pale with shock. He simply stares at me like I've gone all Resetti on him.
Popo's infuriating smirk widens. From the looks of it, he's known that Lucas has been there the entire time. If I weren't so shocked myself, I probably would've strangled him for being such a troll.
When I snap to my senses, I realize that Lucas is shivering. My eyes flicker to his attire. The jacket he's wearing is paper-thin and soaked through the bone. Underneath, the ensemble isn't any better: a flimsy t-shirt and dark, frost-ridden jeans. At least he's got the decency to wear long pants, though they look just as damp as his jacket.
He's freezing in the snow.
I stumble over to him and grab his arms. Lucas's skin has always been cool, but it's a refreshing kind of cool, like touching a glass of lemonade in hot summer.
But this is different. His hands are like blocks of ice, and Lucas is shaking so badly that his fingers keep bumping against mine. Has he seriously been walking around in this weather? This dumbass! Biting back a curse, I tear off my jacket. The cold air hits my skin like blisters, but I barely notice, too focused on wrapping the edges of my jacket around his shoulders. It hangs awkwardly off the edge of his left collarbone.
Fully pissed off, I grab his (cold, cold) hands. "Why the hell are you wearing a T-shirt in this weather?"
Lucas dips his chin into the collar of my jacket. He mutters something underneath his breath, but I can't catch it, and when I try to rub the warmth back into his hands, Lucas flinches, emitting a sharp hiss. Through our empathy link, a flare of pain throbs against my mind.
He's badly bruised.
No shit. His left eye's busted. How is he able to see through that thing? Forget bruised all over. Lucas looks trashed.
I grimly count to ten and force myself to calm the fuck down. "It's okay, I figured it out," I say, grabbing his arm. "You're not going back home."
Lucas stares at me blankly. "What are you doing here."
"Saving your sorry ass."
"Don't worry about your dad. He can't follow you back to the Mansion," Toon adds anxiously, tugging on Lucas's other hand to herd him away.
Stumbling along, Lucas looks bewildered beyond comprehension. "...What's going on."
"You're coming with us."
Shaking his head, Lucas yanks his hand out of mine. "I can't. My dad's sick."
Fuck, he's in denial. I throw Red a pleading look. Thankfully, he gets the gist. When Lucas turns back to the gate, Red lunges over, tackling him and nabbing him by the waist. Lucas lets out a shout of surprise, and they go down, toppling backwards in a kick of snow.
Manhandling Lucas is a bad idea. In third grade, I got a little cheeky and tried to jump-scare him. He freaked out all right - right before he socked me in the face. Unfortunately, a teacher thought we were brawling on school premises and assigned us detention. We each had to write I will not punch people in the nose fifty times under Ms. Squint's scrutiny, but I remember leaving school early because Lucas had in fact broken my nose. He ended up guiltily apologizing for the incident for an entire week much to my chagrin.
But if manhandling Lucas is the only way to stop him from returning home to his abusive dad, then I'll take the consequences.
I dash into the fray for reinforcement. When we reach him, Lucas begins to writhe around, yanking his elbows back, but it's four against one, and none of us are willing to relinquish our grip. We forcefully drag him to his feet, but still, for someone half-dead on his feet, he's ridiculously strong.
"What are you- Put me down!"
"Where's your dad?" I demand, regaining a death-grip on my yoyo.
Lucas wrenches his foot free. "My dad's inside. I think he's sleeping. You shouldn't disturb hi- Ness, where are you going."
I ignore him. As I advance towards his apartment, a cold shock suddenly hits my left leg. Twisting my head around, I see that my ankles have been doomed to the same fate, and I panic - because what the hell no one told me that Lucas's dad is a fucking psychic too! - but I catch sight of Lucas's incredibly strained expression. He's panting, hands outstretched, and I realize that he's cast a PK Freeze on me. This little sneak!
I grit my teeth together, and try to move my leg, but it refuses to budge. "Lucas, what are you doing?!"
Unrelenting, Lucas clenches his fists. "I could ask you the same. You are not going to disturb my dad-"
"Why the hell are you standing up for him?" I shoot back, incensed. "That slimeball's been abusing you-"
"He's not abusing me-" Lucas pries my wrists off his shirt with a pained grimace. "I know, it sounds bad, but I was only mugged on the way home-"
My ears perk up. "You got mugged? Who mugged you?"
Without answering me, Lucas unlocks the gates and climbs up the stairs. More a hindrance than harm, the PK Freeze shatters away, freeing my damp shoe, but jumping to my feet, I'm starting to get a pretty damn good idea about who mugged him. Matching his pace, I tag along his heels and rant loudly, "Well it's fine, cause whoever it is, I'm gonna go beat them up-"
"Two wrongs don't make a right."
"Yeah, and karma's a bi-"
"It's not worth it," Lucas says tiredly, keeping his eyes on his apartment door.
"I think it's worth it," I say stubbornly, reaching for his arm. His exposed skin peeks beneath the hem of his wet jacket, and I can see that the blotchy blemish of bruises litters down his arm. "Have you seen yourself? You look like shit!"
"Thanks, Ness," Lucas says wryly, but I don't laugh because for the first time that night, I get a good look at his face. Like, a good look. Lucas's eyes waver, momentarily losing a bit of their hard intensity. "Really, I'm fine. Go home before the storm hits."
I narrow my eyes. "You just had a dizzy spell, didn't you?"
"No-"
"Yeah, and I'm straight," I snarl, grabbing his face. No shit, he isn't fine. Why can't he see that? I furiously poke him in the cheek, and Lucas grimaces, recoiling from my finger. "Whoever it is, they sure did a real number on your face-"
"It looks a lot worse than it is."
"That's a load of shit, and you know it." I reach for his face with glowing hands. "Here, lemme heal you-"
"I can heal myself!"
Surprised by his outburst, my hands hover to a stop.
Lucas wrenches me off. Up close, his cheeks look a faint pink, and holy shit, does he have a fever too? That is not okay.
"Now if you're done trying to abduct me off the street-" The lock clicks open. Lucas brushes past me into his apartment and flicks the light switches on. "Go home. I need to check on my dad."
I skid to his side. "Why are you being so stubborn?" I snap. Lucas doesn't slow down, so with a frustrated yell, I tackle him around the waist. Stumbling under our weight, Lucas tries to shake me off, but afraid of touching the bruises on his back, I drop down and fasten my fingers around his bony ankles. "Fuck you, you are not going anywhere until I heal you!"
"Ness, for the last time-!"
"What in the Devil's name is going on here?"
We all freeze in place.
Thick boots plant themselves two inches away from my nose. Chuck Norris emerges, clutching a glinting rifle in hand. His expression upon seeing me turns livid, and instantly, he aims the rifle right into my face. "What do you want with my son?" he grunts, furry eyebrows knitting themselves into a thunderous scowl.
"Um..." I stare cross-eyed down the barrel of the rifle. This bear of a man is Lucas's dad? I don't know whether to be awed or scared by this sudden revelation. Probably the latter. Judging from the dark glower the man is throwing me, I can almost feel that loaded bullet tearing through my head any second.
"Dad, he's a friend," Lucas mutters, trying to push the rifle to the side. "From brawl."
His dad doesn't budge an inch. "I heard yelling."
"It wasn't... anything. Dad, go back to sleep. You'll catch a cold," Lucas pleads, and this time, muttering under his breath, the man lowers the rifle to the ground much to my relief.
"Now can you guys go back," Lucas says, disgruntled, as if his dad hadn't almost tried to kill me.
"You can't kick us out," Popo complains. "We've been traveling all day because Ness wanted to-"
"We wanted to check on you," Toon says quickly, throwing Popo a look. Popo snaps his mouth shut. Silently, I resolve to buy Toon Link the sugar demon as many donuts as he pleased.
"The blizzard looks like it's getting worse," I add, sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck. "We were busy trying to find you that we came running in without checking the forecast..."
Lucas pinches his nose. "I can't believe you guys," he says, but this time, his tone eases a little, sounding less irate and instead more exasperated.
Chuck Norris cracks the door wide open. "Come in," he says in a gruff Southern drawl. He limps inside.
Shooting us another testy look, Lucas holds open the door for us. When our eyes meet, I grin, and Lucas makes a face. Sourpuss. Lucas closes the door behind us, cutting off the howl of the wind.
Suddenly, I'm hyperaware of the chill inside the apartment. I can hear Toon's teeth chatter. "I-It's a little c-cold..."
Popo fondly socks him in the back. "This? You sissy, this is nothing compared to the mountains back home-"
"Stay here. I'll grab the electric heater from my room," Lucas says. He disappears down the hallway.
While he's gone, I rub the goosebumps from my arms and examine the picture frames on the mantlepiece. It's easy to see where Lucas gets his looks from. In the photo framed by the left is a tall Asian woman with a delicate, willowy frame - probably his mom. The second shows his thick-shouldered dad frozen in the act of chopping wood. The last one has another boy giggling next to a young Lucas. He's trapped a laughing Lucas in a headlock and staring straight at the camera with a smirk tugging on his lips. Except for his startling ginger hair, this kid looks identical to Lucas from head to toe.
Frowning, I pick it up. This boy looks oddly familiar-
"That's my twin brother."
Caught red-handed, I almost drop the frame from the mantelpiece. "Whothewhat."
"Dude, you have a twin brother?" Popo says, surprised.
Lucas tenses. "Yes."
"You never told me that you have a twin brother," I say, curiously flitting my eyes around the house. "Is he here?"
"He's not home." Lucas seems reluctant to talk, so I drop the subject, but I'm still reeling from the fact that Lucas is not an only child. Pushing a pile of blankets onto the couch, Lucas steps back as we make a scramble for them.
A blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Popo plops down and makes imaginary snow angels on the floor. "Oh yeah, this feels a lot better."
"Reminds me of my grandma's place," Toon adds wistfully. "Just without the ocean view."
Red gives Lucas a nod... of appreciation? Respect? Whatever that nod means.
Lucas rubs the back of his neck. "These are all the blankets I have, so if you still feel cold, you'll have to sit closer to the heater. You're all staying the night."
"My house is up north," I say quickly, feeling bad for inconveniencing him. "Lucas, we can all stay there-"
"There's a blizzard outside. I'm not kicking you out to freeze to death," comes his response, and I involuntary wince at his neutral tone - it's somehow colder than the raging snowstorm outside.
Lucas slips inside the kitchen.
Oblivious to Lucas's departure, Popo sits back up. There's a wicked glint in his eye. "Woah. A sleepover. I don't remember the last time we've had one of these for real-"
Toon's eyes flicker in the direction of the kitchen. "Lucas looks tired."
I spring up. "I'll go-"
"I got it," Red says. As if I haven't risen to my feet, he brushes past me.
All eyes land on me.
Then Popo sniggers into his hands. "Ohhh, shut down-"
I scowl at him. "Wow. Real mature."
"Let's be real, Ness," Popo says, stretching his legs out with an easy grin. "I'm not the brightest bulb in the factory, but Red gave you a lucky save. You obviously haven't been in Lucas's good books for, what, a week? Two weeks? If he wanted to talk to you, then he would've already done it."
My heart twists itself into a knot. "He was busy-"
"He never picked up your call. He never returned your call. Isn't it obvious?" Popo leans forward, pressing his hands into the carpet. "Lucas doesn't want to talk to you."
My shoulders deflate. "Yeah, I know," I groan, scrunching my face up into my hands, and in what's meant to be a sympathetic gesture, Popo claps me on the back. Lucas could hate me for all I cared; I just wanted to heal his goddamn bruises!
"Hate to agree... but Popo's right," Toon hesitantly chimes in. "We did try to ambush him only minutes ago. You should wait until he makes the first move-"
"Lucas wants to see you."
We jolt up in shock. Red's voice cuts through the quiet room like a butter knife.
"The- huh?" I sputter out, peeling my face off the carpet.
Red looks down at me from the doorway. His expression is disgustingly impassive. "Lucas wants to see you," he repeats in the air of a teacher explaining to a stupid numbskull why one plus one equals two.
But uh, well... shit. I scramble to my feet, only to stub my toes straight into the wall. "Oh. R-Right! I'll be back in... uh, cool." Awkwardly trailing off, I hop away on my uninjured foot.
Lucas is waiting for me inside the kitchen. Upon hearing me, he meets my eyes head-on.
My nerves tingle.
Trying not to throw up the butterflies in my stomach, I breathe in. Keep it casual. Simple talk, Ness.
"Uh... howzitgoin?" I ask. Instantly, I know I've dun fucked up. Of course Lucas isn't fine. For god's sake, his left eye is busted. Aaaah, stupid, stupid, stupid!
Lucas doesn't seem to have realized my little fuck-up. His eyes flicker to my feet. "Sorry about earlier," he mutters, instead reaching for my swollen ankles. "I hit you pretty hard with Freeze-"
"I'm okay," I say quickly.
"You took the brunt of the attack-"
"But you pulled back," I wiggle my foot. "See? Not frozen."
"Still, let me take a look at it-" When Lucas heals up my ankle, he studies my face. "You look... tired."
"Says Dark Pit calling the kettle black." Making an angry noise, I pull his arm over. "You need to take better care of yourself," I say, poking a bruise. Lucas winces, but doesn't pull back, so I take that as the cue to assess his own injuries. "I can't believe it. You leave the mansion for one week, and you get yourself trashed-"
"I was mugged-"
Ignoring his complaint, I prod his wrist. Unsprained, much to my relief. "Did they steal anything?"
"My phone."
"Oh." I swallow hard, unable to look in him the eye. "I thought you were avoiding me."
Lucas's expression softens. "You were worried."
"Me, worried? Well no shit, I was. I was THIS CLOSE to filing a missing person report to the police. Seriously-" I throw him a dirty scowl. "You, sir, are a dumbass. What were you thinking, taking a walk in this weather?"
Lucas doesn't say anything, but I feel him shift slightly beside me. He's refusing to meet my eyes. Is he feeling self-conscious again?
I sock him in the shoulder. "You're an idiot," I say matter-of-factly.
"That must be it."
"Oh, you little weirdo you." Fondly, I ruffle his hair. "C'mon, let's get you patched up."
Lucas breaks into a wide smile.
Fuck. I drop his hand, floundering around before catching sight of his bruises. His PK Freeze was unusually weak. I bet that Lucas used up most of his psychic energy trying to heal his dad. He's always been a selfless character.
My hands glow like warm brands. "Can I?"
Lucas shrugs off my jacket, handing it over, then tugs up his sleeves.
I press my hands against the many bruises peppered against his skin. His ankles. His sides. His arms. They fade in a green glow of magic, and relieved, I watch his skin return to its pale color. I can sense Lucas watching me the entire time, but I pretend not to notice, concentrating on healing his injuries.
Finally, I lift my hands to his bruised face. Lucas is still watching me.
I falter. "Uh, I-"
Without breaking eye contact, Lucas leans forward. Before I know it, he's pressed both of my glowing hands to his own face. Unable to look away, I freeze up, my breath stuck in my throat. Lucas's eyes remind me of a clear, cloudless sky - the same sky we flew our kites overhead, the same sky we played tag underneath. My PSI shimmers and melts into his skin. His cheeks are soft under my palms.
Closing his eyes, Lucas cracks a satisfied smile. A low hum escapes from his lips. "Your hands feel warm," he murmurs, keeping my hands pressed against his face.
A hot surge of blood roars in my ears. Feeling my own face burn like a flame, I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuck, not again! I refuse to weird him out again!
The glow dies. I quickly let go of his face. "You've got dried blood on your face," I mutter, turning around to grab a neglected rag from the kitchen table.
"Where."
"Here. On the corner of..." I swallow. "Your mouth."
Twisting his arm around, Lucas wipes his face with the back of his hand. "Is it gone."
"No, it's-" I clap a hand over my mouth to resist a snort. "Stop looking at me!"
Lucas furrows his eyebrows. "Where do you want me to look."
"I don't know, somewhere else? It's pretty damn hard to focus without you staring at me like that!" I say, aghast, and run my fingers through my hair. "I feel like you're waiting for me to screw up."
Lucas cracks a wide grin. The second I've seen all day. "How did you know."
"Shut up, stupid." I poke his face. "Close your eyes."
Training his eyes on the rag in my hand, Lucas looks at me in growing uncertainty. "I can do it myself, Ness-"
"Close your eyes," I repeat, covering his eyes with my free hand. I nervously wet my own lips. "I can't... I don't think I can do it with you staring at me."
Lucas falls silent. To my surprise, he doesn't push my hand away.
When I tentatively part my fingers over his face, I see that he's shut his eyes. I've never noticed how delicate his lashes are, so light against his pale face. My eyes fall to the dried blood on his lips. My chest constricts. I should've been there for him. I should've set out earlier. I swore not to get him hurt after Subspace Emissary, and now, here he was, half-beaten to death by group of thugs. A group of thugs I had been responsible for disbanding.
Afraid of hurting him, I press the wet rag against his mouth as lightly as I can. "Does this hurt?"
"No."
"Good." This time, I grab his face over. He tries to pull away, but I scowl. "Stay still!"
"This isn't the best-"
"Stay," I say sternly. When he complies, slumping over so that both his shoulders slouch in, I take advantage of his open sides and tickle him, forcing Lucas to recoil away from my fingers with a breathy laugh. Looking appalled by his own outburst, he scoots out of reach.
I break into crooked smile. "Gotcha."
"You tricked me," he says mournfully.
"Yeah, yeah, all right. I won't mess around this time," I say, poking him in the shoulder. When Lucas doesn't close his eyes, tossing me a perfectly betrayed look, I whine, "Seriously, close your eyes. I won't tickle you again, I swear."
Lucas reluctantly shifts closer, his eyes lingering on my fingers. This time, he's wary of my tricks, but I keep my word, and he shuts his eyes again, much to my relief. I dab the cut clean, then slowly lift the rag away. The edge of Lucas's shirt has slipped over his right collarbone, revealing the bare nape of his neck. His glistening lips part slightly, wet and inviting.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Fuck, I want to kiss him so badly that it hurts. And if I lean over the right way, just a little closer... My eyes flicker back to Lucas's face. Even now, his eyes stay closed. Lucas trusted me to do the right thing. He trusted me even though I couldn't trust myself.
Samus was right. I'm taking advantage of him.
Rearing back, I plop the wet rag onto the table. I don't think it's possible to feel so much shame in one go. "...You're all good."
Lucas's eyes flutter open. He presses his hand against his cheek and tests his non-bruised jaw. "Thanks."
Pointedly staring away from his lips, I tug the brim of my cap over my flaming face. "Well, I'll let you do... whatever you have to do," I mumble, rising onto my feet.
Lucas catches my hand.
Unable to comprehend his move, my eyes widen down at his fingers, then follow his arm to his face.
Lucas's expression is inscrutable. "Cook with me."
Dumbfounded, I stare at him. Me, cook? The last time I tried to "cook" was two years ago, and I was popping popcorn. I ended up exploding the microwave oven and burning all of the popcorn kernels. Lucas was there when it had happened. He knows that I can't cook for my life.
My eyes dart over to his microwave in fear. Last week, I almost demolished our friendship with a wreckingball, twice. The last thing I want to do is blow up Lucas's kitchen. I clear my throat, preparing an intelligent reason on why I shouldn't be allowed anywhere remotely near a pan, but the words fall out of my mouth like, "Buhbuhbuh."
Pushing himself onto his feet, Lucas drags me along by the wrist with surprising force. "I can teach you."
Walking into the kitchen, Lucas lets go of my hand, then flicks his fingers. A blue fire jumps out of the stove with a loud whoosh. I watch it, agape, wondering how often Lucas used his powers to cook, but Lucas returns with a pair of carrots and a skinner. He shows me how to peel them, then bustles over to the other side of the kitchen to slide out the cutting board. He doesn't say anything, but I know that if I screw up, he'll throw me out of the kitchen. Probably.
I'm not nervous at all.
Fuck, I'm terrified.
But skinning carrots isn't as bad as it sounds, and within minutes, I'm furiously peeling them like a pro. Skinning vegetables is cathartic in a strange way, with the mindless forwards-backwards motion of my arm on repeat and the smooth scrape tickling my ears. When Lucas comes around, I proudly show the carrots off, and taking them away to chop into the stew, he leaves me with a freshly-washed potato.
Halfway through peeling my potato, I steal a glance in his direction. Lucas scraping the chopped vegetables off his cutting board, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finishes up slicing the onions into tiny bits, he catches my eye.
Hiding a grin, I return to peeling my potato.
Not two minutes later, we're staring at the minced efforts of my work. Potato shavings of all sizes miserably flop over the counter in soggy strips.
"Oops," I say.
Lucas plucks out the sad remains of my potato - a cube no larger than a dice. "Ness, you demolished the potato," Lucas says patiently, setting the cube down.
"It's okay. Nobody likes potatoes."
"You eat fries all the time-"
"I hate potatoes," I declare, poking the shavings like they're cursed. "They're posers. Silly brown veggies loaded with carbs."
Shaking his head, Lucas picks up my pitiful excuse of a potato and plops it into a separate pot full of water.
I watch the sad piece of potato bob up and down. "I wonder who'll end up eating it. It'll be like winning the lottery."
"An unlucky lottery."
"My potato's high quality," I decide.
Lucas makes a noise between a snort and a laugh.
Pretending to be offended, I make a grab at his face, which Lucas easily avoids with his stupid height. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"
"I would never," he says innocently.
Good god, I missed that deadpan snark.
Lucas slides a lid over our soup to let it simmer overnight, then opens a second pot. Steam hisses as moisture drips off the lid into the flames. With a smooth scrape, Lucas empties out the sliced onions into the simmering soup. "I appreciate you coming to check on me, but I'm fine, Ness. I can take care of myself."
"I know," I say quietly. "That's why I want to help."
Lucas falls silent. Grabbing a ladle, he returns to the kitchen stove. "Have some soup. I don't want you catching a cold."
I trail after him like a lovesick puppy. "Why didn't you tell us that you left?"
"My dad got sick. I wanted to leave for home as soon as I could."
I bite off the urge to say, Well if Chuck Norris could aim a rifle at my head, then I think he's feeling pretty fine. Okay, it's a mean retort. I get that his dad wants to be armed in a dangerous neighborhood, but goddamn, when a burly man the size of a barge aims a pistol at your head like the first-player shooter in Call of Duty, it seriously messes with your mental psyche. So forgive me if I'm terrified by the hardcore chelovek that is Lucas's dad.
But taking a glance at Lucas, his face looking so haggard and worn out from sleepless nights, I can't bring myself to snark back at him. Even if Lucas doesn't voice his thoughts out loud, I know that he wouldn't have returned to Onett if he wasn't so worried about his dad.
I uneasily pick at my nails. My dad's a prick, but that's my dad. Not Lucas's dad. I don't know shit about Lucas's dad, and while he could be a major dick for all I knew, Lucas seems to care about him. That has to count for something, right?
I swallow down the lump in my throat. "Is your dad okay?"
"Yeah, he's getting better."
"That's good."
Lucas's eyes flicker over my face. He starts speaking in that halting, hesitant tone of his again, the odd statement-like question, and it's so familiar that I want to cry with happiness. "Did... Did my dad traumatize you."
Holy fuck he sure did. "Psh, no."
The corners of Lucas's lip twitch into an apologetic smile. "He's gone to bed. Dad likes to stay in his room, so you don't have to worry about bumping into him."
I release the breath that I had no idea I'd been holding. "Bless."
Shuffling away, Lucas sprinkles pepper into his broth, and I watch him, feeling my worry evaporate from my shoulders. Thank Palutena, he hadn't gotten himself kidnapped or abused or worse. If he'd gone missing... oh man. Patrol duty could easily turn deadly. Who knows what villain we could be pitted up against next?
Still, I can't help but feel rueful. "Well, at least I know you're not lying dead in some ditch."
Lucas's shoulders slump. "I thought I'd be back after a day or two. I didn't expect to be here for so long."
It's my turn to make the little exasperated noise like he does, and rest my head against the small of his back. Lucas has difficulty relying on others, because he's so used to doing everything by himself. And as the fucking self-aware dolt he is, Lucas "absolves" this by distancing himself during hard times. My stomach gives an unpleasant jolt. Whenever Lucas pulls these... stunts without telling anyone, vanishing off into the middle of nowhere, I don't know whether to be frustrated or worried. I decide to aim for the latter, as this time, it was partially my fault.
"Well, don't disappear on us like that. When you didn't show up for a few days..." Exhaling, I grip the back of his T-shirt. "I thought something bad happened to you."
Great, now I'm acting like a clingy ex. I might as well start warbling Romeo and Juliet on the spot.
But Lucas doesn't seem to think that way. He stops stirring his soup. "I'm sorry I worried you," he says gently.
I sling my arm over his shoulders. "Damn right you should be-"
Flustering, Lucas pushes me away. "Ness, some space..."
I realize that I'm blocking the stove. "Oh. Right." Disappointed, I fall back and watch him longingly. Damn it, I want to hug him so badly. It's only been days since we've last talked, but I've forgotten how much Lucas hated me getting too touchy-feely, even though he generally tolerated my hugs. Seeing him again makes me feel terribly giddy and weak in the knees like a lovestruck school girl.
As if sensing my thoughts, Lucas bites down on the corner of his lip. "Hugs are okay," he admits, his face turning red. "But my dad's here, and I don't want him getting the wrong idea-"
I perk up. Fuck yeah.
Drunk on my own daring, I lean over, balancing myself onto the tips of my toes. Before Lucas can turn around, I blow a comically loud raspberry against his neck.
Emitting a sharp gasp, Lucas jolts so violently that he nearly upturns the pot of soup. I crack up cackling, and when he whirls around, dropping the soup ladle with a clatter, I laugh harder at the indignant look on his face. As suicidal as it is, I like pushing him to the limits of his patience. I like breaking his composure. Man, I'm a horrible person.
I pick up the dirty ladle. "Truce?" I offer.
Lucas makes an awkward fumble for the handle. "I'm... washing this."
I grin. "Sure."
Watching him scrub the dirty ladle clean with a furious vigor, I feel my smile fall into a frown. On an ordinary day, Lucas easily shrugs off whatever silly prank I play on him. It isn't like him to be so disturbingly unsettled. My hands drop back to my sides. Hell this isn't the first time I've seen Lucas on edge, but he seems unusually tense. It's like coming home rendered him incapable of expressing himself. No, not incapable. Uncomfortable. Lucas is uncomfortable of openly expressing himself at home. Is his father that intimidating?
Yeah, I think so.
My home's never quiet. It's always noisy with me squabbling my little sister, and my hot-headed mom yelling inside voices! But then I think of Lucas's family - or what's left of it - and I can't imagine Lucas's dad showering his son with affection. No wonder Lucas keeps his emotions under wraps.
Curious, I poke Lucas to grab his attention. When Lucas continues to ignore me, I retaliate with a grin, pressing my hands up against his shoulder blades.
Lucas stiffens up under my touch.
"Sorry," I say quickly when I catch the look of discomfort in his eyes - I'm not that much of a dick - and am about to lift my hands off when something else catches my attention. My frown deepens when I hesitantly trail my hands up to his exposed shoulders. His skin's like a hard block of ice under my palms.
Suddenly the symptoms add up. Shortness of breath. Dizzy spells. Cold skin. Fatigue.
"You didn't eat your iron pills," I accuse him.
"I forgot."
"You forgot?" I say incredulously. "See, this why you keep feeling tired!"
Lucas reaches for a can of tinned peaches. I tentatively poke him the arm, only to recoil with a grimace. It's cold. Too cold. No shit, this is bad for him. Normally, I'd hug him until he got warm, but Lucas said no hugs around his dad, so...
"Mmph." Making an unhappy noise, I press the side of my cheek against his back, trying to radiate the heat back into his body with my PSI. This will do for now.
To my delight, Lucas's face burns - a dark flush is beginning to creep down the back of neck and spread across the back of his arms. So it's true that his blush colors his entire skin. I prod his back through his t-shirt, warming him up, and fall back satisfied when the rosy flush returns to its usual pale color.
The second I lift my face off, Lucas jerks away, shoving a sloshing bowl of soup into my chest. "Take your serving. Tell Red to come over. H-He can help me set up the table."
To my dismay, he still sounds a little breathless. His anemia must be acting up again.
"Why?" I whine. "I can set up the table-"
"Go rest. I feel better now."
Is he really? I can never read his stupid pokerface. Feeling an awkward mix of incredibly turned on and terribly apologetic, I watch him pour more soup into each bowl. The not-so-saint-like side of me eggs me on to repeat the "raspberry" stunt, just to see how far Lucas's blush can spread in his embarrassment, but once is already pushing it. Twice, and I might as well ask to get socked in the face. Besides, Lucas is pouring hot soup, and I don't want him to accidentally spill it over himself. I wanna be affectionate, not be a fuckwad- and yeah, I wanna respect his personal space.
Torn between leaving and staying, I find myself watching him attentively. God, I love this skinny idiot.
Lucas glances back, furrowing his eyebrows. "What are you looking at."
"You."
Lucas stops in place.
Realizing my horrible mistake too late, I feel my own cheeks flush. "N-No, I mean..." Wow, way to sound gay. I tug the brim of the cap over my mortified face. "You don't... you don't have bags under your eyes," I say shyly, even though my lips are too awkward and my heart is pounding madly in my chest. "I'm glad that you're feeling better."
Dropping his eyes, Lucas ducks his head and turns around to face the stove. His flustered flush creeps up the back of his exposed ears.
Mission complete.
Sliding off the counter, I quickly leave, grinning like an idiot.
Author's Note:
*Casually dumps Ocarina of Time references of Link's mother because Wind Walker neglects to mention where Toon's parents are*
I have a headcannon that Lucas suffers from iron deficiency anemia 0-0
*Implied hot take: While most "yaoi" shippers tend to be teenage girls (as they are the main targeted demographic of this content), yaoi shippers aren't exclusive to one gender. I only happened to use fangirls in this chapter. Ironically, oversexualization of women is also problem on its own fucking right (looking at you, people who fetishize lesbians). Main takeaway: crazy fans come in all genders, and people are horny.
[Edit] For the Power of Love is an actual name of one of my fanfics. It's not a Nesscas fic, but it's a generic high school au that I wanted to put in as a cameo to sappy titles. Any fanfic titles that happen to exist are coincidental. I had too much fun making up corny names.