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“Jask…” Geralt stared at his bard, a furious and hurt expression Geralt had never seen before on Jaskier’s face. So much hurt, and all aimed at Geralt. Jaskier’s glare was so deadly that Geralt would’ve felt safer facing down a griffin.
“What Geralt!? What could you possibly want now? Did you find another djinn? Or get robbed on the road? Are those things my fault too, now?” Jaskier spat the words and they burned Geralt like Archespore venom.
“No, Jask, that not-” he put his hands up trying to show he meant no harm, but Jaskier just seemed to bristle.
“Then what, hmm? Your witch leave you again and you realized that I wasn’t there to hold your hand anymore?” Angry tears spilled from Jaskier’s eyes. His breath shuddered. Geralt flinched at the words and shook his head.
“No, I came to say I’m sorry,” Geralt grit out before he lost any more time not saying what he needed to, he needed Jaskier to understand. Geralt knew he had fucked up, badly. What he didn’t know was how to fix it. This kind of anger wasn’t something Jaskier had ever directed at him before. He had seen it directed at others when they spat at Geralt and Jaskier lit into them, but Geralt had never been on the receiving end of the bard’s righteous fury.
“Oh, well, wonderful!” Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, “I’m so happy to hear that, apology accepted. Now that you have that off your conscience, there’s the door,” Jaskier turned away from Geralt, folding his arms over his chest. Geralt saw it for the defensive movement it was. And in this shitty inn, in this shitty town, Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to leave. He had searched for Jaskier as soon as he could, which wasn’t soon enough if Jaskier’s stance had anything to say about it. But there had been Ciri, and Yen, and fuck, Jaskier hadn’t been the highest priority. And suddenly Geralt realized, that’s what all of this was about. Geralt rarely put Jaskier first. Whenever something pressing happened the bard had always waved him off with understanding but now…fuck!
“Jaskier, please look at me,” Geralt begged, he never begged, which was probably the only reason Jaskier turned around, though not completely, still glaring and crying, his arms crossed over his chest. But he was looking at Geralt again, “Jask, I’m sorry,” he took a step forward and Jaskier let out a small sob and turned away again, shoulders slumped as if the anger was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I’m sorry, too,” Jaskier’s voice came out small and strangled, “because I can’t do this anymore. Every time she comes around you go to her, like a puppet on a string, you move to her without thinking. You leave me behind,” Jaskier’s pulse thudded in Geralt’s ears. Geralt wanted to deny those words, but he couldn’t, they were true. “Then when you come back, it’s only because she left. You come back frustrated and angry and I t-try,” Jaskier’s voice caught, “I tried to make it better, I tried to be enough for you. Geralt, I followed you for twenty-two years,” Jaskier looked back at him, his blue eyes shining, “but I never was.”
Geralt felt his heart shatter, the truth of it all breaking him as it had broken Jaskier, broken his best friend and Geralt hadn’t even noticed. Jaskier looked away again, he moved toward the room’s window and looked out at the frosted world. Another sob broke from Jaskier’s chest, “And I can’t do it anymore. I am not the reason for the problems in your life Geralt, I was there for them, yes, but I was there for everything. The good and the bad, I stood by you, and then the only thanks I get is angry words hurled at me because of a hurt I didn’t cause, that I had tried to prevent!” Hot shame spread through Geralt.
“Jask…” Geralt whispered, not knowing what to do, how to soothe and mend. Jaskier continued, still not looking at him.
“For twenty-two years I’ve loved you Geralt, and because of that I tried to be content with second place, but I can’t anymore because I’m not and I never was,” the words were soft and low as Jaskier spoke, a quiet admission Geralt was sure Jaskier never thought he’d say. Now it was his pulse that he heard thudding in his ears as he realized there was no fixing this. “Please, just go, because if you ask me to come back I won’t be able to say no, not to you, not ever, and I know that if I go with you, I’ll end up right back here but next time, I don’t think I’ll survive.”
Geralt stood a moment longer, still in disbelief. He didn’t know what he expected to happen when he found Jaskier again, but it wasn’t this. Then, with everything in him screaming at him to stay and fix, Geralt turned, opened the door, and left. And he cursed his witcher hearing because with every step he took he could hear Jaskier’s broken sobs behind him.
—--
Once back at Kaer Morhen, Geralt felt restless. A part of him was missing and he knew what, more like who, it was but he couldn’t do anything about it. His foul mood was obvious to the others. He tried to throw himself into teaching Ciri and planning with Vesemir, his brothers, and Yennefer…and Yennefer…he didn’t know how to act around her. They weren’t together anymore and the pain was still there. The betrayal she felt. Ciri had helped but the wound was still a large enough divide he didn’t know how to cross.
That being said, it was why the irony wasn’t lost on him when she was the one who came to talk to him. He couldn’t sleep, his insomnia worse than ever. So he was out on the eastern wall, looking at the stars and feeling the wind as it danced by him and down into the valley. Fuck, Jaskier would love this view. Why hadn’t he ever brought him here? Because it would’ve shown the feelings that Geralt had wanted to stay hidden. So stupid.
“If you brood any harder your face will get stuck like that,” Yen said, coming to stand next to him, her elegant fur coat ruffled in the wind.
“Hmm,” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, “can’t sleep?”
“No, the miasma of angst coming off of you is so thick it makes it hard to breathe, I’m afraid I’ll suffocate in my sleep,” she said leaning against the wall and looking out over the valley before side-eyeing Geralt in return. Geralt huffed at her ribbing and smirked for just a second before he sighed. “Where is the bard, Geralt?” Yennefer asked, straight to the point as always.
“He didn’t want to come,” Geralt said simply, though there was so much more to it than just that, and Yen knew it.
“Why not?” she said, refusing to let this drop. Geralt growled in frustration and closed his eyes as if that would keep him from seeing Jaskier’s hurt face on the mountain, in the inn.
“He said he didn’t want to be second anymore,” Geralt’s fists clenched.
“Second? Second to who?” Yen asked, looking skeptical. Geralt frowned.
“Please, Yen,” Geralt said, turning away.
“Tell me, Geralt,” she ordered, and he could feel her gaze on his back.
“You,” Geralt whispered, the word feeling like glass as it sliced its way out of him. There was silence for a moment and then Yen burst out laughing. Geralt startled and turned on her, confused. She had her head thrown back laughing as if she had just heard the funniest joke. When she settled she wiped tears from her eyes. “It’s not funny, Yen.” Geralt growled.
“Of course it is,” Yen said with one last chuckle, “He’s always been first to you. The only reason we even met was because of him and how much he meant to you. And then even after your stupid fucking wish that tied us together, you left me there to go to him,” She said, some hurt lacing through her words, but the kind of hurt that felt like a wound already scarred over, one that only ached when you poked at it too hard. “You may have come to me whenever we ran into each other, but you never came after me when I left. You went back to your bard and on your merry way,” Suddenly Geralt understood, he understood why he had lost them both, he hadn’t put either of them first, they both felt like his second choice. Fuck he was bad at this.
“Yen-” Geralt started but she cut him off.
“Geralt, you and I are tied together by magic,” she said, her eyes shining in the moonlight. The wind played with her hair, and the stars behind her gave her the prettiest backdrop. She was beautiful, “but you and the bard? You’re tied together because you actually like each other.” Fuck, she was beautiful but she was also right. Geralt sighed and looked back out over the valley.
“I don’t know how to fix any of this,” he admitted. Jaskier had told him to go, so he had, but he couldn’t help but feel like that had been yet another mistake in a long line of his fuck ups.
“It’s too late for us, Geralt,” Yen said, returning to her earlier position leaning on the wall, “but it isn’t too late for you and your bard.”
“He doesn’t want me,” Geralt whispered, and another wave of heartbreak overtook him.
“Bullshit,” Yen said, Geralt looked at her again, “he’s followed you for decades Geralt, he wants you. But what he wants more is for you to want him back. Put him first. Fight for him.”
Geralt blinked. He was such an idiot. He had thought if he had found Jaskier and said just the right thing that the bard would come back to him. But Geralt wasn’t a words man, he was an actions man, and Jaskier knew it. And walking away, that action spoke volumes. He understood now the sobs he had heard as he walked away from Jaskier. When he left him behind… again. Geralt’s feelings of guilt and self-hatred took precedence over Jaskier. Dammit!
Geralt groaned and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was so stupid. But, but maybe he could still fix this. He pulled his hands down his face and turned to Yen. She smirked up at him as if to say ‘figured it out finally?’, he leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.
“You’re incredible, Yen,” he said. She huffed, rolled her eyes, and pushed him away.
“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, and she turned and began to walk back into the keep. Geralt turned once more to look out at the valley but less morose this time. Spring was a long time away and the pass was already closed. Yen was too weak to make a portal, but maybe soon, and at the very least by spring. Geralt felt a flush of hope take hold of him. He would find Jaskier as soon as he could and this time he would fight for him. He would put him first. He would show Jask just how much he loved him. How much he missed him. How sorry he was for being a complete ass. He would earn Jaskier’s trust back, however long that took. He needed to. Geralt huffed as his feelings whirled around inside him, and people said witchers don’t feel.
—
Eventually, the snowy winter melted away into a muddy spring. Geralt’s agitation grew by the day. He wanted to leave as soon as possible to find Jaskier. Ciri was going to stay at the keep and continue training with Vesemir and Yennefer. But finally, the pass became clear enough to travel. Geralt saddled Roach and hugged each member of his family goodbye. Ciri held back tears with a determined look on her face.
“I’ll be back, Ciri,” Geralt said as he hugged her fiercely. He hated leaving her, but the continent was not a safe place for her right now. She needed more training.
“You better,” she replied, and he squeezed her once more before he stepped away. He looked at Yennefer who stood next to Ciri. He didn’t try to hug her. Even when they were together she hadn’t been much of a hugger but especially not in front of others. So Geralt was surprised when she stepped forward and hugged him quickly.
“Don’t come back without him,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded.
He turned and stashed the box in one of Roach’s secret pouches and mounted her. He nodded at his family. Vesemir held his head high, used to seeing his boys go every season and pushing away the questions on if they would come back. Eskel gave him a small smile and a nod in return, a reassuring hand on Ciri’s shoulder. Yennefer stood elegant and proud, hands clasped together in front of her. Lambert had his arms crossed and was grumbling about Geralt ‘taking too long’ to hide his worry. Geralt raised his hand at them in a wave and then urged Roach forward. He had a bard to find.
—
Over the next few weeks, as he headed toward Oxenfurt, he kept an ear out for any mention of his bard. Geralt continued to ponder on what he needed to do. He had thought hard over the winter and spoke with Eskel and even Ciri before he had come up with a basic plan. Step one was to find a nice apology gift, something Jaskier will love and be unable to refuse. Step two was to follow Jaskier. The bard had followed Geralt around for over two decades, it was Geralt’s turn to follow him wherever he wanted to go. Step three was to let Jaskier ride Roach. The fourth and final step in his plan was to confess his feelings.
Step four had Geralt the most nervous if he was to be honest. He wasn’t good with words or expressing his emotions, but Jaskier was worth trying for. He had decided to confess last for a few different reasons. He wanted to show how serious he was with his actions. Prove to Jaskier that Geralt meant his apology and show him how important he was to Geralt. Then, since Geralt had such difficulty with speaking about his feelings, he wanted to give himself time to think of the best way to say them. He didn’t want to fuck this up again.
He took a few contracts on his way toward Oxenfurt, and while he stopped briefly in every town he could to listen for his bard, Geralt rarely spent his earnings. He wanted to save enough so that whenever he found the perfect gift for Jaskier he would be able to afford it, even if the merchant decided to be an asshole and ask for some ungodly price.
He was maybe three days out from Oxenfurt when he found it. He was at the apothecary’s stall in the town’s market getting a few ingredients for potions when he looked over and saw a beautiful cornflower blue notebook. He quickly finished his business with the apothecary and went over to the notebook. He picked it up and leafed through the pages. His medallion gave a small hum.
“It’s enchanted.” He looked up at the stall owner. A petite man with a soft smile and kind eyes. A rare expression to find on the face of someone speaking to a Witcher.
“How so?” Geralt asked. The man’s smile grew.
“Waterproof, fireproof, dirtproof. Anything that could happen to a notebook on the road proof. Except leaving it someplace,” the man chuckled.
“How much?” Geralt asked. He was prepared for whatever number the man threw out. This was it. This was the gift.
“Well, I was planning on selling it for six hundred crowns,” the man rubbed his chin, “but I hear you’re the one responsible for taking care of our monster problem, so how about three hundred instead.”
Geralt blinked and quickly dug through his coin pouch before the seller could change his mind. He counted out three hundred crowns and handed them over.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Witcher,” the man said. Geralt nodded and stashed the notebook in his bag.
He had the perfect gift, now all he needed to do was find Jaskier.
—
Oxenfurt was just as busy and loud as Geralt remembered it. As Geralt made his way toward the university, anxiety crept into his thoughts. Jaskier was so angry the last time they met, and Geralt did not blame him one bit. He truly didn’t know how to make this better, but he would try and try and try again. That’s what Jaskier had always done with him. When they had first started traveling together Geralt really hadn’t believed for a minute this bright, cheery, young man wouldn’t get tired or bored or scared off. But Jaskier stayed. He persisted through every hurdle and he wormed his way into Geralt’s heart no matter how much Geralt tried to push him away. Well, Geralt could be just as stubborn!
The sweet smell of a bakery invaded Geralt’s nose and he paused. Jaskier loved Honey Cakes, they certainly wouldn’t hurt, Jaskier never turned down a Honey Cake. Geralt followed the scent and found the bakery. Inside was a round, middle-aged woman kneading dough. She paused and looked up when the little bell rang above the door announcing Geralt’s entrance.
“What can I do for you, White Wolf?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. She didn’t smile but she also didn’t smell of fear. People in Oxenfurt rarely did, since Jaskier began teaching during the winters.
“Honey Cakes,” Geralt stated.
“You’re in luck, just brought a batch out of the oven, so they’ll still be warm,” she said, “How many?” Geralt thought about it.
“Six,” he said, “please,” he added. She gathered up six Honey Cakes and tied them up in a small cloth and handed them over to him. He handed over what he owed and collected up the sack, which was warm from the fresh cakes as promised. He nodded to the woman and left.
As he got closer and closer to Jaskier’s rooms at the academy dorm. Geralt steeled himself as if he were going into a hunt, but this was much, much more frightening. He climbed the steps to the second-floor rooms and made his way to Jaskier’s door. He took a deep breath and knocked. Nothing. No movement inside. No one home. Shit. Geralt stood there, frowning at the floor when a young woman came out from a few doors down.
“He’s not home,” she said when she got close. Geralt looked at her. She was younger than Jaskier, blonde with brown eyes.
“Where is he?” Geralt asked. The anxiety came rushing back. What if Jaskier wasn’t even in Oxenfurt?
“He’s in lecture. His class ends at noon,” she said.
“Thank you, could you direct me to his lecture room?” Geralt asked. She gave him directions. Geralt thanked her again and made his way through campus. Students were rushing about late for class and some were sitting in the quad enjoying the warm spring day. When Geralt found Jaskier’s classroom he paused. Should he wait for class to get over? It was almost noon. But Jaskier loved that cliche romantic stuff, so should he just burst in? That thought made Geralt nauseous. Okay, no bursting in. What about sneaking in and sitting in the back? Yeah, that could work. Geralt took a deep breath and carefully opened the door.
The room was large, with lots of windows and at least 50 students in attendance. Jaskier was at the front of the room, sitting on his desk reading from a book of poetry.
The sound of Jaskier’s voice filled Geralt with a sudden peace. Like a cool salve to a bad burn. A relief so deep it stole his breath for a moment. He meant to sit and wait, but instead, he stood staring at Jaskier, unable to move or look away.
When Jaskier looked up from the book and saw Geralt standing there, he froze, just as Geralt was frozen. After a beat of silence, Jaskier spoke.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. It wasn’t hurled at him with anger or fear. It was soft and disbelieving. All of the students turned in their seats to look at what had caught their professor’s attention. Some gasped and nearly all began whispering but Geralt paid them no mind, he only focused on Jaskier. So much for waiting, Geralt thought.
“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he said, an echo of Jaskier’s words long ago. Jaskier’s eyes widened in surprise. Geralt made himself move forward, one step at a time, toward the man he loved. He barker, his best friend, his confidant, the one he wouldn’t let get away. “You told me that, a long time ago,” another step, “you said you would follow me anywhere,” another step, “and you did. You stood by me, time after time, you put my needs ahead of your own,” he was standing just an arm’s length away, “you put me first, but I didn’t do that same,” tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt felt his own prickle, “that changes today.”
“How can I believe you?” Jaskier whispered.
“I’ll prove it,” Geralt said, then he pulled out the notebook from his pack. Jaskier’s eyes widened, “it’s enchanted, it won’t burn, it won’t get dirty, it won’t get wet, it will be able to withstand any hardship, just like us,” Geralt moved closer, he took the poetry book from Jaskier’s hands and placed it on his desk then put the notebook in his hand. Jaskier stared down at it, his fingers idly rubbing the cover. “I’m sorry Julek, I wronged you, and you have a right to be angry with me,” Jaskier looked back up into Geralt’s eyes, “but please, come back to me, this time I’ll put you first, this time I’ll love you right.” A sob escaped from Jaskier's throat and he threw his arms around Geralt’s neck and smashed their lips together. A cheer erupted from the students. Geralt pulled Jaskier closer with arms wrapped around his waist and kissed him back with equal ferocity. Jaskier pulled away, breath heaving, and rested his forehead against Geralt’s.
“You stupid, wonderful man,” Jaskier said, “I can’t say ‘no’ to you.” Geralt hummed in contentment, happy to have Jaskier back in his arms.
“I also brought Honey Cakes,” Geralt said and Jaskier laughed. The most beautiful sound in the world.
“Class dismissed!” Jaskier called over Geralt's shoulder and the sounds of students gathering their things and talking amongst themselves filled the room. Geralt nosed along Jaskier's neck, enjoying the scent of his happiness. Jaskier shivered and pushed away from Geralt just far enough to meet his gaze once more, “I think we should have those Honey Cakes back in my quarters, and perhaps you can show me just how sorry you are,” Jaskier’s voice took on a wicked suggestive tone. Geralt smiled back, fully intending to do just that.