Finn wasn't good with things involving blood, or death; or anything involving pain really. Usually, this aversion applied strictly to himself and his wellbeing. After all, most people generally deserved the wrath they received from his mother and maintaining a terrifying front was for their own protection. He'd seen the way the towns people lashed out at the unfamiliar; at him when they thought him defenseless. It was easy to turn a blind eye to his mother's chaos and rewrite it as just punishment in his mind.
That was harder to do once Harv landed in her crosshairs. Naive Harv, whose instinct was too safe those in danger first and ask questions later. A young warrior, who in hindsight, protected their main source of income from plummeting to her death. There was nothing poetic or just in forcing into an illusion where he embodied the reflection of who he had saved. And certainly nothing just in letting him suffocate in an iron corset. This was just being cruel to someone for cruelty's sake. Someone who had saved Finn's life.
You can get new friends she had said, as Harv slipped out of consciousness on the floor.
It wasn't fair.
"How do I take it off?" Finn watched as the chain that laced the corset tightened. Even if he had a knife, he wouldn't be able to rip apart the magical device. "Mother, please." As she walked up, she sighed and pushed a button on the clockface at the front of the corset. She pushed the hands of the clock backwards and the metal loosened enough to let the iron plating fall back into the dirt. She dusted off her hands and pat Finn on the head.
"See, he's still breathing." Harv lay in the dirt in front of their home, his chest barely rising and the color hesitant to return to his cheeks. "Now wash up. Those cheapskates in the palace should have a better spread by now if they know what's good for them." Finn hesitated; he couldn't just leave him there.
"I think I'll take a bath first..."
"Good idea." Leenan turned and entered the house. "My illusions may be good, but you have been rolling around in the dirt." Finn looked down at his beaten-up green suit that protected his thin arms. It seemed both of them would be sore tomorrow morning.
By the time Finn had dragged Harv's body to the tub room, large purple and black bruises had bloomed against the lower half of his torso. He had never really paid attention when people prattled on about the four humors or herbology; but he knew soaking in hot water should help somewhat. At the very least, it would keep him from getting goat smell in the house. He had plenty of mint and citrus scented things he'd received as gifts. He never liked the smell on him and supposedly they helped with fatigue; so, it couldn't hurt to throw in a whole bottle of the stuff.
By some miracle Finn had got him into the tub, but when the hot water hit Harv's skin, he didn't wake. His breathing was still incredibly shallow, even unconscious it was too painful for him to breathe. Finn worried his lip between his teeth as he dug through the rows of bottle. What else helped breathing; maybe lavender, but that wouldn't help him wake up.
He yelped when he turned and saw Harv had slipped below the surface of the water. Finn rushed to his side and pulled him back up from under the shoulders. It was easier to move him in the water, but when Finn held tight Harv's ribs caved against the pressure. Finn froze for a moment, his friend limp in his arms. No amount of bath oils would help with broken bones. He wasn't coughing up the water either, it was just rattling in his nose and throat.
"Finn, are you alright darling?" His mother knocked at the door.
"Uhh, yeah-" Finn groaned internally, he didn't have the most convincing tone at the moment, caught between panicking and crying.
"Oh, well," his mother's voice softened from the other side of the door, "your little warrior friend went home so there's nothing to worry about." Harv's skin was cold above the water. "If you need anything..." She trailed off and Finn let out a sigh of relief when he heard his mother walk away from the door. There was something he needed, but he honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to have it. At this point, it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He let himself linger with his arms around Harv's shoulders a little longer as he gathered his strength to pull the dead-weight out of the bath. There had to be some way to sneak the boy upstairs.
Mother's study was a winding labyrinth of hastily stacked piles of things, from half-finished spells to stray potion ingredients. None of it was remotely organized, however the most rare objects generally had a way of being stowed in a safe place. So it really wasn't the tracking down of the ingredients that had made turning to magic Finn's last resort, rather...
Magic was incredibly unpredictable.
Even spells made with good intentions could act up if the caster wasn't focused enough or pure enough or unable to combat the temperament of nature. The chances of unintended results heightened if one's intentions deviated from the purpose of the spell. And considering Finn had to pick apart the phoenix feather with tongs, lest it scald him, he had doubts that the healing salve would even work. His only consolation is he knew exactly how it worked.
The small fibers of the phoenix feather were mixed with sea salt and honey, then heated over the flame of a white candle until the mixture turned into a thick slurry. Lavender incense hung heavy in the air as Finn pulled the potion off the flame and mixed in the clove oil and waited for it to cool.
Harv lay nestled in Finn's bed, and Finn eyed the unnatural curve of his ribs with concern. If he just dumped it on him, the broken bones could mend at an improper angle and worsen the problem. The only way to be certain the bones were set correctly would be by feel. Finn looked at the bowl of golden goo and muttered a small string of curses under his breath before dipping his fingers into the salve.
The healing properties kept his skin from blistering, but the potion burned, like placing a hand on needles fresh from a kiln. His stomach turned. He really didn't want to experience moving and setting bones, let alone inflict something so painful onto Harv when he was in this state, but it was the only thing he could do to help.
Gently he worked from the bottom up, humming a stuttered song to distract himself from the sensations and the fact that Harv still wasn't really responding. With the last rib set, Finn spread the salve across Harv's chest and nearly cried when the warrior finally took a deep breath and sputtered out a few weak and wet coughs.
It was actually working.
He carefully rubbed another layer of the potion into the skin. Really, it would work best if Harv drank it, but it was such a vile tasting thing. The bruises melted away and at long last color returned to Harv's lips and fingertips.
"...Are you real?" Finn's nameless tune died in his throat at the sound of Harv's voice. Before he could think of a response, Harv had threaded his fingers through Finn's bangs. Finn looked up, Harv's expression betraying confusion, and something Finn couldn't put his finger on. Whatever it was, it was soft and hopeful. Finn took Harv's hand away from the path it was tracing down his face and gave it back to him.
"Yeah, this is real."
"Man..." Harv relaxed a little into the pillows, "I guess I did something right." His words were a little clumsy and he was still rattled with fatigue, but he was awake. He'd be okay.
"You really should be more careful. Do you know how worried I was?" Finn got up from the bed to grab the decimated bowl, "It wouldn't kill you to think before you act." He handed to the bowl to Harv, "I'm sorry, but you really should drink some of this." Harv didn't even spare the bowl a second glance.
"A little late for that, don't you think?" Harv said. Finn blinked slowly and again had to pull Harv's hand away from his hair.
"Harvey, what are you-"
"I mean, they don't send angels to collect the living." Finn started to laugh, of all times for Harv to find a sense of humor. It was quite funny, comparing him to an angel, but Harv wasn't laughing.
"Goodness, you're serious." Finn placed the back of his hand to Harv's forehead. No fever, and the illusion spell was already broken, so maybe he was just a little disoriented. "You're not dead, just a little worse for wares."
"...but you're so pretty." Okay, very disoriented, though sincere nonetheless, and very insistent on about pushing Finn's hair out of his face. "And I'm sitting on a pink cloud."
"It's just my bed Harvey." Finn sighed. Harv looked down at the fleece covers and back at Finn, his face now flushed.
"I- wow." Harv shook his head. "Wait..." The wheels in his head were turning slowly as Harv tried to chase down whatever thought had briefly come to him. "Are your eyes purple? They're the same color as wildflowers."
"Yes Harv." Finn watched as the warrior, completely enthralled, tried to sit up only to hiss with pain. "It wouldn't hurt as bad if you just drank this..." Well, he really couldn't call it magic or a potion, then Harv would never drink it. "Just, come on and drink." He cupped his hands around Harv's to get him to hold the bowl and coached him to bring the bowl toward his face.
"You sure you're not an angel?"
"Positive." Finn said with a laugh. Harv finally took a sip. He didn't seem put off by the salt and honey, which was surprising, but Finn wasn't about to say anything to deter Harv from drinking the potion.
"Then why are you here?" Harv couldn't tear his eyes away from Finn. The unflinching softness in Harv's face, it made Finn feel a little giddy. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush caused by going from so worried to so relieved in a short amount of time. The joy of knowing that despite his mother causing Harv so much pain, the boy didn't seem to hate him.
"I'm your friend Harv."
"You're my friend?" Harv tried to set the bowl back into his lap, deeply distracted and in awe. "How'd I do that?" Finn guided Harv's hand to lift the bowl again. "Do we see each a lot?"
"Everyday." Finn agreed with a smile, it was like trying to redirect a child.
"Everyday?"
"Yes Harv, come on, you have to finish the bowl."
"Everyday." Harv repeated in awe before finally taking another drink.
"You should get some rest. Healing can be exhausting." And more aptly, he didn't trust Harv to walk himself home in this state.
"Is that really, okay?" Harv asked, his head and eyelids were already growing heavy. "I don't want to..."
"It's fine Harv, you can stay as long as you need." In which case, he really should own up to his mother that he'd snuck Harv up here. The last thing he wanted was for Harv to get blamed for something he had no control over. Finn went to get up, but Harv gently held his wrist. Harv was tired, and the magic needed more time to settle in and do its work. Still, Harv looked at him like he had hung the moon and the stars in the sky.
"Don't go, please?" Finn sat back down on the bed. Harv's thumb traced small circles on the back on of Finn's hand.
"I'll be the first thing you see when you wake up." Finn said with a smile.
"Good."
AN: I usually can't with one-shots, but this concept stuck in my head like brain rot until I got it out. I'm making an updated version of Good Intent on Ao3 and we're making new pages for the comic on tumblr.