hello hello helloooo here is part two to this bad boyy

enjoy! also for a bit of context you may need to head over to lollingcat's account on ao3, they wrote a really good text-fic that goes along with this story. the fic is named 'they're dumb teen boys, all he wants to do is quit.'

He can see the sky through the window in his tiny, cramped office.

It's dark outside. The view is useless. He instead turns his gaze to the packed-in interior of the office, drumming his fingers against the desk.

It's not his office, not officially. He was never given it to work in, but it's where he slodges through his paperwork, and skims over maps. He hasn't exactly made it his own, not that he has enough possessions to do so. The most familiar thing about it is a dirty mug, uncleaned for weeks, tucked in the corner, and his palisman perched on his shoulder.

They're a comfort, for sure. Something that's just been present, lately, with little signs of leaving.

It reminds him of someone else.

But he doesn't know a word for it. A word for what him and Edric are.

Because they're not friends. Or 'besties', as Edric keeps putting it, picking up from the human-speak the human has taught him. Hunter doesn't do friends. He has no need for them, only allies.

Friends are for the weak, is the mantra he's drilled into himself growing up. Only a weak witch would need to rely on others, lean against them like a fragile sunflower against a branch. And he's-

(He hopes to whatever higher power there is that he isn't-)

He's not weak. He's not weak, and he doesn't need friends. He only needs the Emperors' Coven, and Belos, and they need him.

(They need him, but they don't want him. He's detested by most, and looked down upon by others. They need him, but they'll turn a blind eye when he emerges from Belos' chambers with a bloody cut seething down the side of his face. They need him, but he's utterly unloved here.)

He doesn't need friends, but he doesn't want enemies. And Edric is decidedly not an enemy.

Sure, some of his cryptic messages drive Hunter near-insane, and his pride has taken a severe dent from the stunt with his cloak, but they seem to actually get on fairly well.

Though, Hunter does have to remind himself, it's just over text. Over fleeting messages that Edric probably forgets within moments of sending them. Why would he remember them? Why would he think of their conversations after sending the messages?

Hunter knows (he thinks, he can't allow himself to hope differently) that he's been used. He's simply a means to get closer to understanding Belos' plans.

Not that he knows anything. He's been out of favour for weeks now.

His golden mask is still missing. He's beginning to think it won't reappear. That privilege has been torn with him, like a young child pulling off a moth's wing. He feels like he was little more than an experiment, another lab-rat of Belos' creation-

He wasn't. He was needed, was useful, and now he isn't. Not anymore, because he failed.

He failed, and he let Amity win. Edric said so himself, in their first conversation - she'd managed to hang onto a small smearing of blood.

That was a failure, in his book.

So, they're not friends, and not enemies. Hunter can't quite pin-point a word for it, he supposes Edric would have one, if he asked for ideas, but he doesn't want to start something. Doesn't want to get into a conversation, and not know where it might end.

Though he doesn't know what that 'something' might be. With Edric, it's usually something that makes his skin prickle, like it's been brushed by the underside of a stinging-nettle. Or something that makes his skin flush, patchy and red. It's uncomfortable, and it makes him feel horrendously awkward, completely thrown off from how he usually is, and yet he sways towards Edric every time.

He's like a moth, fluttering, drawn to a flame. Except that unlike a moth, he knows he's probably going to get burnt.

He doesn't think he has feelings, exactly. Partially because he doesn't know how to recognize them. And also because to him, it seems uncoathe to fall for someone over text. They've had one conversation, face-to-face, and it began with Edric making off with his cloak.

If he did like him, it would be just a crush. A silly, pathetic teenage yearning, one that had little basis in what reality could become. He doesn't have time for friends, let alone relationships. And he doesn't think Belos would approve, either, so he won't allow himself to think about it.

(Can't allow himself to think about it.)

Still, he's only known him for a few weeks at the most, and he's been thrown off balance.

Outwardly, everything is fine. He's continuing with his duties as usual, working later than he usually does to fill out endless paperwork. There's more and more upstarts being thrown into the Conformatorium than ever, which means his desk is full of forms to fill out, sheets of paper to scrawl on until his wrist cramps up.

He falls into bed later and later these days, and the bags under his eyes are a vibrant plum-purple, almost painful to touch. He rubs at them, and they sting beneath his fingers, throbbing gently.

He's working late tonight, far later than he usually would. He'd been almost ready to turn in for the night, at a mildly respectable time, and the mere sight of Belos passing through the corridor had been enough to scare him back to his desk.

He'd stayed there for another two hours, working into a new day, watching the clouds drift by through the window in his cramped office.

When he's finally finished, and he's snuck back into his room, he finds three messages on his scroll. He doesn't check them straight away, instead getting ready for bed, changing into some sleeping-clothes. They're not exactly comfortable - they're just as tight as what he wears daily, and with a coarse fabric that rubs roughly against his skin - but it helps him feel ready to sleep.

He finally checks his scroll, completely unsurprised at who he's received the messages from. Edric is his only almost-maybe friend, after-all.

mischiefs_other_half: you up ;)

oh wait never mind didn't realise the time

sleep well goldie :)

He frowns at the scroll, conflicted once again by the use of the nickname. He doesn't exactly like it, because it's patronizing, and stupid. It sounds like something a child would call their friend, or a nickname between lovers. But it's unique, he supposes, and it makes the burden of his title seem earlier to deal with.

When Edric calls him it, he feels like a child playing dress-up. Or what he guesses that would have felt like, he'd never gotten the chance to be a child.

He wasn't going to reply, but he's tired to the bone, and something compels his fingers to dance over the faint letters on the scroll. Pliant to the wills of his usually quiet desires.

: I'm awake.

He wishes he wasn't. He wishes he'd been tucked up in bed, nestled among his slightly lumpy blankets, long ago.

Edric replies nearly straight away. The light of the screen, bright against the dullness of his room, makes Hunter jolt.

mischiefs_other_half: dude why

go the fuck to sleep it's basically morning

that can't be good for your body

He sends messages in a constant stream, a pure form of internal thoughts. Hunter never quite knows how to answer them most of the time, and does what he usually does - wings it.

: You're also awake.

Besides, I had paperwork to fill out. You're welcome to it if you're so insistent on fixing my sleep schedule.

He sends the message quickly, peeling back his bedsheets, ready to get into bed. He needs to sleep, or he's going to trudge through the next day, sluggish, and pliant. And when he's tired, he makes stupid mistakes. Sloppy things, really, just small details missed, but-

He doesn't want to fail. Even in tiny, insignificant ways.

He lets the bedsheets flop back onto the bed, and glances back at the scroll. It doesn't make a noise when he receives a message, not anymore, he worked that out the hard way when he first started messaging Edric, and it would twing loudly, at all times of the day.

mischiefs_other_half: why were you doing paperwork

like as in right now

couldn't you have done it in the morning

He ponders that question for a short moment. He could have done it in the morning. It wasn't exactly urgent, not like some of the other work he's been tasked to do throughout the years. It could have waited, and he could have gotten to bed at a semi-reasonable time, but he didn't. He needed to do it. To prove himself, to prove that he wasn't afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.

(A voice in the back of his head told him that it was just paperwork. Thinking of himself was hardly a sarafice.)

: No, I needed to get it done.

But thank you for your concern.

He falls back into his bed, and rubs at his eyes, yawning loudly. He needs to sleep, but he can't seem to put the scroll away.

A reply comes quickly. Almost worryingly so - no sooner has he sent his messages, Edric sends a speedy reply.

mischiefs_other_half: sure it couldn't have been thATT important but okay

He scoffs at that. It was important. He'd needed to get it done.

: It was important, but I couldn't expect you to understand.

Edric replies startlingly quickly. He always does.

mischiefs_other_half: nah i do understand

but still couldn't have been important enough for you to be awake like

now

He doesn't understand, and it frustrates him. When Belos is like this, when they're so close to the day of Unity-

He simply cannot afford to disappoint him.

: I saw it as important. Therefore I got the work done.

You still haven't explained why you're also awake at this hour.

Edric is probably awake because he wants to be. Not because he's busy, but because he wanted to watch the moon drift across the sky, or some other useless, near-human notion.

mischiefs_other_half: wanted to talk to you cutie

also my sister is playing some music in her room and it's keeping me awake

Hunter chooses to ignore the 'cutie' comment. It doesn't mean anything, he fiercely reminds himself. It's probably just how teenagers in Bonesborough speak.

: What's Amity playing? Love songs? I fail to see how those can be preventing you from sleeping.

He hums softly to himself, blinking when he hears a slight eep from his palisman. It chitters on his shoulder, snuggling closer, and he allows himself to smile at it. Just this once.

mischiefs_other_half: what no

my twin sister?

emira

Hunter didn't know this. The idea of two, near-identical Blights almost frightens him.

: You have a twin?

Is she as annoying as you?

mischiefs_other_half: surprisingly yes

she's playing an album she stole from luz

it's so angsty that it reminds me of you 3

Those heart symbols were popping up again, and Hunter shook his scroll to get the screen to turn off for a moment. He still didn't know what they were supposed to mean, just that they seemed awfully…

He didn't know. They were almost implying something, and he didn't like it. Didn't like the way it made him feel.

: I don't think that's a compliment.

mischiefs_other_half: i'll let you decide that

but nahhh it wasn't

i can compliment you if you want ;)

The thought of that makes him flush.

He doesn't want it.

: You've met me once. There's very little to compliment.

mischiefs_other_half: awww at least let me try

i've thought of at least ten pick-up lines to do with the claok

*cloak

: And I don't want to hear any of them.

He has a feeling they'll all be ridiculous.

mischiefs_other_half: your loss

oh by the way how easy it is for you to come to town

i need to tell u something

or give i guess

That throws him. Tell him what? What could Edric tell him that he can't do over message? Or give?

: What do you need to tell me?

And I can get to town.

He can sneak out, he thinks. Or he can make up some mission, some excuse that means he can get into town without having suspicion following him.

(Though it seems to do that anyway, no matter what he does. Kikimora despises him, and his uncle doesn't look at him the same way that he used to. He feels like they can see something about him, something deep-buried, something he hasn't yet realised.)

mischiefs_other_half: great!

and nothing really

just something you might have been looking for ;)

And that completely confuses Hunter. He's been looking for plenty of things. Titan's blood, the key, some palistrum wood, research on ancient magic…

He doesn't know what this could be. Whatever it is, he doesn't know why Edric would tell him. He would have figured that the boy would be on the same side as his sister, the human, and the Owl Lady - not secretly angling for the Emperor's Coven.

: What is it?

He sends the message, stifling another yawn. He doubts Edric is going to tell him - whilst he's been talkative, he hasn't explained half of the strange things he's said. Hunter's still vastly confused over what an 'uwu' is.

mischiefs_other_half: you'll see ;)

Those… things have come back. Emoticons, he thinks they're called, but knowing their name doesn't make them any less confusing. He doesn't know why Edric uses them so frequently, and what they're supposed to represent.

This one is simple enough to understand, but he doesn't understand why it's being used in this conversation.

: Please stop winking at me.

He replies instead of asking any questions, absent-mindedly running the pad of his thumb against the scar on his face. When he's not wearing his mask, he does it without thinking, a simple repetitive motion that reminds himself not to get distracted. To do his job with a sharp, careful precision, because he knows what happens when he doesn't.

mischiefs_other_half: but it's funny ;)

He's unsure how it can be funny, sighing softly to himself. He doesn't find it funny, it just makes him uneasy. Makes his stomach swirl. It's rare that he's given this kind of attention, and he doesn't know how to react to it. It's not negative attention, but he's half-afraid Edric is going to suddenly switch on him.

: Why do you need me to come to town?

He asks, hoping for an actual response this time. Something in the back of his head worries if this is a trap. If he's going to get there, and immediately be bundled off by the human, and the Owl Lady, and who-knows what else. He doesn't think he can trust Edric, at least, not yet.

mischiefs_other_half: i said you'll see

but it's something you want

please just come?

The last message makes him pause. It's almost pleading, and it feels…

It feels sincere.

: Fine.

What day works for you?

He finally crawls into bed, one hand still clutching the scroll. He's not holding it tightly, his fingers are loose around the glowing device. He tightens his grip, not wanting to drop it.

mischiefs_other_half: is tomorrow okay

well i mean later today lol

but like midday

He thinks he can make an excuse to be in Bonesborough by then. If he can't, he'll just sneak out.

This could be important.

This could help him. Could make him seen again, could get him back into his uncle's good books.

: I'll see you then.

Goodnight.

He gets ready to put the scroll away, to prop it up on his bedside table, but the screen lights up once again.

mischiefs_other_half: goodnight goldie! get ur beauty sleep 3

He huffs at the nickname, rolling his eyes into the dark of his room. It doesn't annoy him quite as much as it first did.

It's kind of sweet, really, he thinks.

: Please do not call me that.

Goodnight, Ed.

He turns his scroll off, setting it beside his bed. He's absolutely exhausted, now, and knows the moment his eyes slide shut, he'll be gone till the morning.

Still, he takes a moment to think over his conversation. It's pleasing, having someone he can talk to. Someone who does judge him, but not in the all-powerful, completely quashing way the coven witches judge him. Edric's judging is playful, all teasing jabs, and jokes.

It's familiar, and feels almost safe. Comforting.

With that thought in mind, he lets his head hit the pillow,closes his eyes, and promptly falls asleep.