Day Five - First Kiss
It's amazing how much a near-death experience can change your outlook on life.
The worst part was that it wasn't even Willow who had experienced the near-death. It was Hunter, her dear friend. Her dear friend who had been possessed by the psychotic monster that had raised him as a weapon. Her dear friend who turned out to be a grimwalker, a being of myth and legend.
Her dear friend whom she had harbored feelings for practically since the day they'd met.
She clutched her chest over her heart as tears welled up behind her glasses and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Titan that Flapjack — that heroic little guardian angel — had brought Hunter back from the brink. Brought him back to them all. Back to her.
If she let herself, she could still feel the phantom chill of Hunter's skin as he lay unmoving in her arms. Still feel the lack of pulse … that probably came from a galdorstone. Still feel the grief that simultaneously sliced and bludgeoned her own heart at the thought of Hunter being gone.
It's amazing how much a near-death experience can change your outlook on life.
With the shock of Belos's return as he opened a portal home, Flapjack's passing, Hunter's resurrection, Luz's reveal of her trip to meet Philip Wittebane coupled with the utterly crazy idea that any of them could ever hate her — much less for a simple mistake — and the portal beginning to fade away … She'd been too distracted to dwell upon these feelings.
Distractions had continued for the day since their return. They'd found what amounted to an abandoned island with a massive, horrid, owl-shaped fortress of bone floating in the sky above where the Titan's skull had once been. People were mysteriously and eerily absent, everything else perfectly in place as if waiting for all of the witches and demons to return. After that, Steve and Katya had stumbled upon them decked out in medallions carved with King's collar sigil to lead them to Hexside of all places that had been conveyed into a combined rebel base and refugee camp.
Only now, when she was standing on the edge of the Hexside campus with a medallion of her own that would hide her from the Collector — crying over the very same tree she had watered with her tears during her, Luz, and gus's brief expulsion — was she able to take a moment to process what had happened.
Hunter had died. And she hadn't been able to stop it.
The fact that Flapjack had brought him back was a miracle, but Hunter had still died. He had been gone, and she had never taken the time to admit how much he meant to her.
She bit back a sob as she thought to the first time she'd seen Hunter, diving to gracefully retrieve his boot from Puddles in a classic swoop-and-spin maneuver that had him race past her laughing in triumph. She'd snatched him out of the air after immobilizing the griffin and asked him to join her flyer derby team. Even then, from the first time they'd spoken, she knew there was something different about him. Something special.
The seed was planted and lasted the brief winter of his betrayal to the emperor's Coven, only to be warmed by his throwing himself in harm's way to save them. Messaging late into the night had nurtured those feelings and left her beyond happy to see him protect Gus and fight alongside her and her friends against the Emperor's Coven. Then the Day of Unity happened, and they were trapped.
Willow was no fool. She knew that she felt more than friendship for him, and she was almost certain that he felt the same for her. Years of bullying and still-fragile self esteem had tried to poison that flower, but Hunter wore his heart on his sleeve. And his blushing was almost impossible to misinterpret. But given everything that had happened, she'd decided to give him time to find his footing, to sort out his feelings, to grow comfortable before she asked him on a date.
Plus they needed to get home. That took priority.
And then the graveyard had happened and here they were, back in the silent shell of their homeland. Hunter had died.
It's amazing how much a near-death experience can change your outlook on life.
"Captain?"
Willow gasped and whirled around to find Hunter looking at her with concern in those … his eyes were brown, now, rather than the magenta she'd come to know. Like Flapjack's. But though the color was different, the soul behind them was the same. Maybe a little sadder.
Some of the darkest stories of grimwalkers claimed they had no souls of their own. Proof to the contrary was standing right in front of her.
"Hunter," Willow said, brushing tears away from under her glasses. "Is everything alright?"
"I was about to ask you that," Hunter replied, taking a tentative step closer. "You're crying. Wh-why? Is there something I can do to help?"
Willow hiccuped another, smaller sob at the words and the sheer emotion behind them. And just like that, a crazy, insane, ridiculously foolish idea came to mind. Her fingers twitched as she tried to tear it out like a root, but it refused to budge.
"There might be," she said shyly, brushing one of her pigtails behind her ear as she took a step closer to him.
"Anything," Hunter said, and the fire in his eyes made her blush intensify, her stomach churning in a most wonderful way.
"We're taking on the Collector tomorrow," she pointed out. Another step forward. "I don't want to distract you."
"Honestly, Captain," Hunter said, blush growing and the tips of his ears pinking, "you already distract me well enough."
Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. They were mere inches apart now.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Anything," he repeated, his voice firm. Confident and … and masculine. It made her knees buckle.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. He did, with no hesitation. Willow bit her lip and reached up on her tiptoes to place a small, gentle kiss on his lips. He blinked his eyes open and stared at her. "Willow …"
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry to drop this on you before tomorrow." Her insecurities began to well up. "It's just, you were dead. And I didn't tell you. I almost lost you and you didn't know. And it's stupid and selfish and short-sighted and and I really, really shouldn't have, and-"
Willow was cut off by Hunter placing a hand on her cheek and guiding her back up to his lips. She gasped before melting, wrapping her arms over his shoulders to draw him closer as he clutched her waist and did the same.
The kiss grew deeper as months of unspoken feelings raced to the surface. Heat rose up and urged them on, drawing them closer as they gripped each other like their lives depended on it.
It was only the burning need for air that separated them, and they parted with a chu to lean their foreheads against one another's and catch their breath.
"Wow," Hunter sighed.
"Yeah. Wow," Willow giggled, nuzzling her cheek into his.
"I've, uh, been wanting to do that for a while," he admitted, and she could feel the heat from his blush. "Even had a dream or two about it."
"So did I," she admitted. "Did it live up to your hopes?"
"I could never have hoped for something so good," Hunter growled. "Willow."
She shuddered at the use of her name, something he rarely did. She of course adored his nickname for her, a sign of respect. But using her own name felt … intimate, coming from him.
"We have a big day tomorrow," she said, breaking the spell.
"We might not make it," Hunter admitted, despair threading his voice.
"Then we'd better make the most of the time we know we have," Willow said, taking his hand to lace their fingers and leading him back toward the school. "Let's go have some dinner and … talk." She glanced back at him with a lidded, lazy grin. "And maybe pick up where we left off?"
She laughed when Hunter's eyes widened and a dopey grin spread his lips before he raced ahead to drag her along.
It's amazing how much a near-death experience can change your outlook on life.
Chapter five! The repeating line was actually really fun to implement.
Another thing is that so many (for good reason) like to depict Hunter as the hopelessly lovestruck emotional-martyr. I wanted to explore some of Willow's trauma and hope here. Hope it came off well!