A/N – Sorry for the long wait! I had a TON of events for school I had to go to, plus I got sick. Also, I'm dyslexic- so I'm sorry if I miss some typos :b
Anyways I'm struggling, but I should have my Ao3 account ready sometime next month!
The feeling of soft, familiar fabric greeted Darryl as his tired eyes began to open. Instead of waking up to the sight of the dungeon, the arms dealer saw a very familiar place.
He was in his room, at the home made for him at Acorn Acres. The walls were covered in mold from aging, the floor had a thin caking of dirt, and the support of the bedroom had either cracked or missing pieces- yet the building he rested in remained intact. The mattress below him was comforting, and with it came familiar memories. The feeling of gunpowder stuck to skin, along with the ache of overworked hands returned to him, but only as phantom sensations. He had no time for this. The man tried to stand, but a throb in his skull made him fall back onto the bed he laid on- Exhausted.
Looking for any distraction, his vision moved towards the table beside him. Instead of the metal tools he used to fidget with, five books were stacked neatly in their place. Three of them Darryl recognized as the ones he took from the dungeon, but the other two seemed new. The first new book was another bestiary, but as Darryl grabbed it to flip through the pages, he saw it covered monsters exclusively. The second book looked much older than the rest below it, and strangely familiar. In minutes, he recognized the book as the one held by the statue he passed out by.
Placing the books back into the stack, the arms dealer let himself rest. Despite the fact he was passed out for hours, Darryl was exhausted. No matter how hard he tried to get out of the bed, his body refused to move more than a couple inches at a time. Finally, with a defeated sigh- Darryl let his eyes shut again. When his head hit the pillow below, the dealer felt something rub against his skin. Refusing to open his eyes, he used his hand to feel what the strange material could be. Rough fingers felt tough fabric, and with dozens of experiences with injuries- and him- Darryl knew what covered his shoulder were bandages. The fabric probably fell from his movements, since it was loose from not being tended to for a while, so Darryl reached for the knot connecting them to tighten it back up.
Suddenly, a quiet creak caught his attention. Darryl slowly sat up, and he saw a tan hand grab and push his door open. With the wood no longer blocking them, the arms dealer saw somebody he should not have seen.
"Harley?" Darryl couldn't help himself but call out to the guide standing in front of him. As he spoke, tears began to form in his eyes, and it only took seconds for them to fall. Harley, the man Darryl saw die in front of him, began to approach the bed. "Here, let me get that for you." The guide spoke, and his words felt melancholy to the other man.
When Harley sat on the side of the bed, he reached for the knot of the bandages. However, a hand gently grasped his face. "How…?" Darryl stuttered to himself, but the feeling of the guide's tan skin against his fingers kept him anchored to reality. Harley sighed, before he gently took Darryl's hand into his own. A soft kiss was placed onto rough skin as blue eyes met silver. "I have many things I need to explain… But please, let me fix that for you." The guide said, before letting go of the dealer's hand. Quick, precise fingers tightened the knot of fabric, and the bandages on Darryl's arms were secured in seconds.
When Harley finished, Darryl gently grabbed his arm. Resting his head onto the soft, green fabric of the guide's shirt, tears began to stream down his face. There was no noise, except for the faint chirps of the songbirds outside. "How are you here, how are you alive?" Darryl asked softly, feeling his voice crack as he did. The tan man placed his fingers onto the dealer's curly, soft hair: a simple comfort, but a necessary one.
"Where the hell have you been!?" Darryl couldn't help himself from being angry. For years, a decade- he had been grieving over somebody who was alive. "I saw you die! How… How!?" Darryl felt his anger fade into sadness, and a warm hand cupped his face. "Darryl. You don't need to worry about that anymore- I'm back, and I'm here to stay." Harley explained, pressing his forehead against the other man's.
Without warning, the guide was pulled into a tight hug. Since Darryl was sitting, the position was awkward. However, the pure emotion behind the act distracted Harley from any discomfort he felt. "If you swear to believe me, I'll explain." The guide promised, and the dealer nodded. Neither man let go of the hug, and Harley began to speak as he adjusted himself to lay beside Darryl. "Here, this should explain." The arms dealer looked at the guide as he sat up, before he was handed a book from the table.
It was the work from the statue in the dungeon, and Harley had already flipped to a certain page. The page held a colorized sketch of the woman depicted in the art, but extra details were present. Blank, pupilless eyes, long claws, sharp teeth, and long, flowing ginger hair. The shade of orange matched the guide in front of Darryl, and he could only shake his head. "You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?" Darryl asked, looking between the picture and the guide with quick succession. It was Harley's turn to nod his head. "I'm the son of a god, Darryl. I don't know how to simplify it, and I don't want to freak you out." Harley quickly explained, and he felt nervous sweat slide down his face.
"You're my closest friend, and I don't want to lose you. I'm so sorry I hid this from you and everybody else, and-" Before Harley could finish his panicked rambling, Darryl interrupted him. "I just have one question, Harley." The arms dealer spoke, and the guide gulped as silver eyes stared into his own. "Why did you kiss me?" Darryl asked.
Harley paused for a moment, before he looked towards Darryl's hand. "Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Harley stood up as a blush creeped onto his face. He backed away from the bed as the arms dealer laughed. "Listen man, I know I'm hot, don't feel bad for smoochin' me." Darryl teased the ginger, and their interactions began to feel nostalgic. The way he teased the ginger was the same, the guide's overreactions were just as hilarious, and even their tender caring to each other was the same.
When Harley finally returned to the bed, after a few good minutes of crossing his arms with the occasional pout, Darryl smiled. "Other than embarrassing me, I was expecting your reaction to be a bit more…" Harley looked at the dealer, who only wore a smug expression. "Intense? Dramatic? I always knew something was off about you. It's a bit more than I was expecting, but at least I'm right." Darryl replied, before he paused. "I'm also glad to know you're okay… Even if I'm a bit pissed. Did you seriously have to wait ten years to come back?" Darryl asked. "I didn't even know I could come back." Harley answered, showing the other man his palm as he spoke.
A strange symbol seemed to be engraved onto the paler flesh, and Darryl felt the skin under his glove burn as he touched it. Taking his leather glove off, the dealer noticed he had an exact replica of the symbol, even down to the smallest detail. "Oh shit… What does this mean, exactly?" Darryl asked the guide, who responded with another sigh. "I don't know what happened, but I think you might have accidentally made a pact with me." Harley explained. Recalling the events within the dungeon, Darryl quickly came up with multiple possibilities of what may have happened; however, one event stood out to him the most. "I passed out by a statue of a- I mean, of you. My shoulder was pretty fucked up, and I was bleeding out. Maybe that had something to do with it?" Darryl said, looking at the guide as he slowly nodded his head. "Sounds right… Well, either way- you're stuck with me for a long time." Harley replied with a slight smirk. The dealer noticed an odd hesitance in the guide's voice, but the ginger walked away before he could ask why.
Darryl attempted to stand up once again and was finally met with success. Trembling, weak legs met wooden flooring, and the arms dealer made his way to the door. Stepping into the hallway of his own home, he called out to the guide. "Harley?" Darryl continued to walk down the corridor before he spotted the ginger in the kitchen. The guide didn't notice the dealer, and in front of him stood a single pot. On the gas stove, the guide's finger produced a small flame and the once dead flames returned. "What are you making?" Darryl asked, and this time Harley noticed him. "Oh! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Harley playfully smacked the dealer's unharmed shoulder, before turning back to his work. "It's a classic soup recipe my mother taught me. All you need is goldfish and mushrooms." Harley quickly explained, before he took a ladle into his hand. After a quick sip, Harley held the tool out to the dealer.
Tasting the rich food, Darryl quickly finished the liquid in the ladle. "God, its been so long since I had a proper meal." The dealer said, watching Harley pick two wooden bowls from the shelf above the stove. "Well, it should be done by now. Have as much as you want." The guide took a small portion of the soup, before he made his way to the living room table. With a significantly larger portion, Darryl sat across the man. Despite both his hunger and mind craving the delicacy, the dealer could only sip tiny amounts at a time.
"I have another question, Harley." Darryl spoke with a sincere venerableness. "Yes?" The guide responded, and Darryl stared into the reflection of his soup. He couldn't recognize himself. His once short, curly hair had grown long and messy, his eyes were duller than in his youth, and he looked tired. "What now?" Darryl asked, turning his gaze towards the ginger. After a long pause, the guide looked at the dealer. "What do you mean?" Harley asked. "Acres is gone, the hero is gone, and no matter how hard I try- no amount of… well, anything is gonna help." Darryl answered, looking at the symbol on his palm.
"That's not true." Harley spoke with an honest tone, and the dealer snapped back to reality. "Terraria has you." Harley continued, taking Darryl's palm into his own. "What… What are you implying." The dealer asked, staring into blue eyes. "Stealing books from a dungeon and reuniting everyone isn't going to do anything, Darryl." Harley's word stung the arms dealer's chest. "What Terraria needs is a hero. Iris is gone, and as much as I wish I knew why, that's our reality." The symbol on the two's hands began to burn as the markings began to softly glow. "Please, let me guide you. Let me show you how to be a hero."
Darryl gazed at the magic in front of him, and a soft wave of strength flowed through his frame. A gulp left the dealer's lips as he nodded his head. "Everything in my brain is telling me to say no," Darryl spoke. However, the arms dealer felt a smug smirk form on his face. "But what's the harm in trying?"