Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes nights go by so slowly that Hunter swears it's been years since he's seen the sun. 

Of course, he wouldn't have to worry about the lethargic creeping of time if he was asleep like a normal person would be at night. 

But noooooooo. Instead of peace and rest, his brain gives him a shitty relationship with sleep and dark circles under his eyes. That's what happens when you've been pulling all-nighters since you were nine. He can't help it. There's always just too much to do and not enough time. 

He knows he's lying to himself saying that, though. He doesn't really need to sacrifice his nights to his sewing projects. He doesn't have to read under the covers at night anymore, like he had to in the Coven while reading illegal books about Wild Magic. Since landing in the Human Realm a month ago, he's had nothing but time. 

So it's not lack of time that keeps him up. If anyone asks him about his slouched shoulders, stifled yawns and glazed expression, he replies simply with "I'm an insomniac." 

But even that doesn't quite cover everything. 

Sure, sometimes he has restless nights. The ones where sleep just isn't possible because all he wants to do is fidget and squirm in his sleeping bag. He'll slide into his nest of blankets and it'll just feel wrong. The nest that is usually soft and comfortable just feels itchy and unbearable. His senses all dial up to a hundred. His skin crawls and itches like ants are underneath his skin. Even the slightest sound of the floorboards creaking is enough to make him clench his teeth in frustration. And he'll just feel gross in general, like the humidity of June is sticking to his entire being. Those nights usually end with him showering for a good hour or so, scrubbing his skin until it's raw and red to try and get rid of that wrong feeling. Then, he'll make an entire kettle of coffee to drink while he sits at the kitchen table until the orange hew of the sun rising shines through the windows. He's startled Ms. Noceda quite a few times doing this. But the quiet mornings aren't so bad. Even if he'd prefer to be sleeping. 

Those nights do get lonely though. 

It's dumb. He never used to be bothered by such trivial things as loneliness in the Emperor's Coven. He was always above that. He had to be. It's not like he could just ask the Emperor of the entire Boiling Isles for a freaking hug. Sure, sometimes his chest would ache from the lack of companionship. Sometimes he would cry himself to sleep, wishing he could be good enough to finally live to his Uncle's impossibly high expectations. But he wasn't completely stupid; He knew how to be useful. He devoted his entire life to the castle and filled his days with missions and training until there was no room for loneliness or longing. And sometimes, after particularly successful missions his Uncle would give him a shoulder squeeze as a way to show pride! Those few glancing seconds of care were enough to keep Hunter willing to do anything for more. 

It was a shock once he had friends though. That was a lot to get used to, but he thinks he kind of gets it now. They are nice. Really nice. They don't mock him or stab him in the back. They're nothing like the scouts back home… er, back in the Isles. 

Once, when the five of them had been sitting on the couch watching the big boxy magic ball together, he had worked up the nerve to ask them why they treat him so nicely without expecting anything in return. He'd noticed Willow and Gus shared glances, and how Amity looked down to her lap. Luz had scooted a little closer to him on the couch. After a moment of quiet filled with nothing but the sound from the movie they were watching, she finally spoke. Her voice was casual, yet something in her tone told him she was trying to word her thoughts carefully. 

"Hunter, most people don't use love as leverage. Your unc…. Belos was evil. What you had to deal with was messed up. This is what real family is like, bud. We aren't friends with you for what you can do for us. We're friends with you because we like you." 

Then she had punched him playfully in the shoulder and turned her attention back to "Hocus Pocus" as though she hadn't just shattered every illusion Hunter had ever had in life.  

So maybe his family hadn't been the best in the Isles. Maybe that's what keeps him up at night. But now he's got a real family, a family bonded through dumb shenanigans and shared trauma. Luz calls it the "Found Family Trope", whatever the Titan that means. 

And he knows he's stupid and selfish for thinking this, but sometimes he wishes he could hold onto them all forever. He's scared to let them out of his sight sometimes. What if someone gets hurt and he's fast asleep? What if he wakes up one day and everyone is gone? These thoughts circle through his head sometimes, so much that he has to get up and find everyone to make sure they're all okay. Or as okay as five teenagers trapped in a whole new realm can be. 

These thoughts tend to get particularly bad at night.

What if none of this is real? What if it's all just something his touch starved mind made up? What if he's still in the castle, hallucinating? 

And he knows it's absolutely ridiculous. But he still has to creep up the stairs and poke Willow or Luz in the face a few times to make sure they are actually real and alive. Luckily, they're both moderately heavy sleepers. He wouldn't dare do that to Amity of course. He prefers his arms to be attached to his body, and not shredded to wheat by a cranky abomination thrower. 

And after checking in with his fellow housemates, he usually spends the rest of the night making sure all the windows and doors are locked. Over and over. He goes clockwise around the house, usually ten or eleven times, checking the same locks. It brings him an odd sense of security. 

It's crazy to think about how he used to spend all his time in isolation. Because now, he gets sad if he's left alone for too long. He wants to wake someone, but he knows that they need sleep. He does too, but he's fine. He can handle it. He has been handling it just fine. If he tells himself that enough times, it will come true… right? 

But no. While the nights of restlessness or longing for a friend are rough, they are nothing compared to the more violent ways he loses sleep. 

Nightmares have always been a problem for him. Ever since he was very little, he'd be plagued by the repeating images of violence and pain. Once he had run to his Uncle after a bad dream of a scraped knee, and the Emperor had taught him real pain. The handprint on his cheek didn't go away for a few days, but it's really his fault for disturbing Belos so late at night. By six years old, Hunter had understood the rules. 

As he got older the dreams got worse. Not only were they more recurring, they started reflecting his real life. Dreams of bird cages and metal bars filled his subconscious. Dreams of pain, and cold, and watching those below him fall to their deaths on the mountain. Memories that are sugar coated during the day are bitter at night. 

This hasn't gotten any better since arriving in the Human Realm. If anything, they got worse. He can ignore the flashbacks during the day, but as soon as twilight hits all of the demons come for him. 

He chokes on invisible dirt and his own sobs as he tries to get away from the former Grimwalkers that drag him down, down, down. 

He usually wakes the whole house with his screams on those nights. It takes hours for the others to talk him down from his panic attacks and to ground him enough that he recognizes where he is. 

He just hopes he doesn't talk in his sleep. He has a feeling Gus would be able to fill in the blanks and figure out he's a Grimwalker. That kid is too smart for his own good.

He always feels a pang of guilt when he sees his friends' eye bags in the morning.

Not as bad as the guilt of what he still desires does, though.

He's ashamed of himself, really. He used to be so much stronger. Now he feels like he'll break at any given moment. 

All he knows is that his behavior would be unacceptable in the Emperor's Coven. 

And he's out of control, really. Someone needs to discipline him. To teach him to be good again. 

-------------------------------------------------

He's just tired. So tired. 

He's laying awake again. That's all he ever does. 

He honestly wishes it was one of the restless nights. Hell, he'd rather have a million nightmares than nights like these. 

Because these nights are the worst. 

The whole house is silent. Even the occasionally noisy foundation has ceased its creaking. It's unnerving to Hunter. It feels like the quiet before the storm. 

Feels like the whole house is about to collapse on him

His heart hurts. He grips the front of his shirt, fingers tangling into the fabric. His eyes are just watery enough to be suspicious. 

Because the thoughts are back. The thoughts about his Uncle. Of the Castle. 

Most of his memories from his time in the castle are horrible. He had hated his life, and hated himself. He had feared his Uncle. He knows that what he had experienced in that place was horrible. 

But he still misses his home.

After all, he was literally created to live and die in those castle walls. 

And no matter how much he tries to deny it, that castle had been his home for sixteen years. He had lost his first tooth in that stone palace, and had taken his first steps. And while he hadn't had a typical "happy" childhood, he did have some things. 

And he misses his things. 

The quilt that was frayed and fading from being dragged around his small room. He used to tie the ends around his neck as a little kid to make a makeshift cape. He had a little paper knife too. He would bounce on his bed, giggling to himself and skipping around to kill the "bad guys". 

Playing Golden Guard had been his favorite game. Until his game because his reality. 

He misses his bed. And it's so dumb. It wasn't a great bed. Worn from being handed down from his predecessors. Sometimes when he had flopped onto the mattress, he would hit a space without stuffing and land against metal bars. But he misses it. It was his. 

He misses the view from his window. He used to love that view, especially when the sun would set just right over the tree line. The stained glass would reflect pretty colors over his room, creating the most peaceful scene. And for a while, he could forget about all the missions and the ways of proving himself. Pretty lights would roll over the sky and the stars would peek out as though waving to him. The world always felt so much bigger from his room in the tallest tower of the castle he had been raised in.

He misses Sprig. Oh Titan does he miss Sprig. That stuffed frog had been a gift from his Uncle, received after he'd finished scout training. It was the nicest thing he had owned. Sprig was his protector of dreams. Nothing would ever hurt him if he was holding his stuffed animal tight.

He wonders if he would finally be able to rest, if he had his frog. Then he wonders why he's acting like an eight year old again. 

And the thing he misses the most rests on the tip of his tongue. Because he would never say it out loud. He's ashamed. Because it's horrible, disgusting, wrong of him to even think. 

Why does he miss his Uncle so much? 

"What a pity. Out of all the Grimwalkers, you looked the most like him."

He misses his abuser. He's aware of how despicable that man had been. He knows first hand. He has seen the Emperor's mind, and has seen how much he enjoys the pain he causes. Uncle had been a dagger, a weapon that savored the jagged cuts it left. 

Hunter had always been disposable. 

So why does he wish he could see his Uncle again? 

He misses him. 

His entire life had been devoted to making his Uncle proud. He'd fought for the Empire's cause, and he had become the face of the dictatorship. Because he just loved his family so much. That's what you do for love, right? Sacrifices. It was for the greater good. 

Hunter remembers when he had been very small. He'd been so young, too young to have made mistakes big enough for severe punishment. His biggest worry was for his Uncle. His sweet Uncle, the man who bounced him on his knee. Who had taught him how to protect himself, taught him how to throw a punch. Belos would tell him stories about the human realm and the great Titan whom he spoke to frequently. He used to flick Hunter's little hair strand with the softest expression on his face. That of course, had been before that hair flick had become a threat. But he'd treated Hunter so fondly. All Hunter wanted was to be just like him. He wanted to save the man from the curse that sickened him. Hunter would have taken care of his Uncle forever and ever. 

Those moments became less frequent as Hunter got older, but never truly faded away. Hunter could always expect a shoulder pat and a proud expression after a successful mission. Unfortunately, his success became less frequent as well. It was really his own fault that Belos got so angry. 

But he misses it all so much. 

Can you miss something that was never even real?

A loud snore startles Hunter out of his thoughts and he jumps. He sits up from where he had been laying on top of his sleeping bag. He can't help but chuckle fondly as he looks over at his sleeping friend. 

Gus is spread-eagle across the entire couch, which is an impressive feat for someone so small. At least someone is sleeping peacefully tonight. 

He detangles himself from his blankets and with a delicate hand he picks up a sleeping cardinal who had been curled up on his pillow.

The little bird gives an annoyed tweet, and opens his good eye to peek up at Hunter. "Why awake? Boy needs to rest."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I couldn't. I need some air, and I didn't want to leave you alone." Hunter rubs at his shadowy eyes, his voice still husky from not speaking for a while. Flapjack knows more than anyone how Hunter struggles. He is Hunter's best friend, after all. His first friend.  

"Walk?" 

Hunter nods. "If you're okay with it. I'll leave a note in case someone wakes up." 

"Mkay." Flap ruffles his feathers as though stretching, and flies to take his spot in Hunter's messy curls. 

Hunter climbs the stairs, leaning heavily against the handrail. He spares an extra glance at Gus to make sure the younger boy is still sleeping peacefully. Luckily he is. 

He hops over all of the familiar creaky boards of the house, something he had made note of the second he'd started living there. He has to be silent. 

Hunter searches the entire living room for a piece of paper. The closest thing he can find is a blueprint Luz had left when she's gone to bed, a half finished Portal Door drawn across the gridded paper. 

He flips it over, and his scrawly lacy handwriting reads:

Going out for a walk. No, I'm not dead. Yes, I'm fine. Go back to bed. Will be back soon. Flap's with me, we're keeping each other safe. 

Toodles,

Hunter 

Satisfied, he grabs a magnet with the Bi flag on it to pin his note to the fridge. He can't help but go out of his way to put the note right next to a cute wolf-like dog on Camila's "Wall of Fame". 

His eyes flutter shut and he takes a moment to just breathe in the quiet. Flapjack's making soft little whistles, and he hums back. The moment helps his heart slow down just a little. 

At least, until he hears a floorboard creak behind him. 

He moves his hands outward and Flapjack's staff form falls into his prepared hands. He spins around, ready to smash the butt of the wooden handle against the bad guy's head. He can't let anyone get hurt, he has to keep them all safe. What if it's a coven scout who had managed to get into the human realm-

And before he can react, he realizes he's swinging at Willow's head. 

She thankfully ducks, which is good because Hunter had almost knocked her teeth out. 

She stays in her crouched position, eyes wide with concern and a little bit of fear. He lets out a wobbly breath, his hands shaking so badly that he almost drops Flap. The bird turns back to his living form and he swoops to circle the shell shocked young girl. With a satisfied trill, he lands on his owner's shoulder again. 

"Plant witch okay! You didn't mean it. You're okay." 

He's barely holding back his tears. His breath has picked up, getting stuck in his chest.

"W-Willow! Titan- I- Oh my Titan. I didn't mean to, I swear. Shit. Willow I'm so so sorry, you caught me by surprise and I know that's not an excuse to attack someone but-" His voice is so high pitched, squeaky and out of breath. His hands reach to yank his hair, and he starts chanting his go-to phrase. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm-"

Willow seems to have snapped out of her initial shock, her protective mode activated. She takes a slow step toward Hunter, trying her best not to startle him more. When she speaks, her voice is so soft. 

"Hunter, I'm okay. You're okay. I understand."

"But I-"

Willow interrupts his rant, seeming to detect his self deprecating words before they even came. 

"I need you to breathe with me, darling." And if Hunter wasn't in the middle of some sort of breakdown, he would probably be blushing at the pet name. She probably calls all her friends darling. 

He shakes his head, too out of breath to speak. His chest is hurting again. His stupid breaths won't come, he's choking, drowning. He feels himself sink to the floor, but he's so outside of his own body that he can barely process it. 

"I'm so stupid, I'm sorry."

Willow grabs his hand, oh so carefully, and places it against her chest to her heartbeat.

"Hunter, listen to me please. You have to listen. Four counts, just like all the other times before, okay?" Her words are stern but her tone is sweet. Hunter finds his attention drawn to her.

Her hand reaches up, and she puts up four fingers to count down. At his nod of agreement, she starts to count.

"One, two, three, four. One, two…"

The first breaths are the hardest. They lodge in his throat, but Willow doesn't hesitate to reassure him before he can spiral again. 

After about fifteen minutes, he's breathing at almost the same rate as Willow. She still counts him down, and he's fallen into the beat of ins and outs. 

"Feeling better…?" Willow's smile is ghostlike, real yet just faded enough to show the sadness of her soul. 

He nods, his eyes sliding shut. He's so tired. His stupid panic attack hadn't exactly helped with that. He is getting pretty sick of those though. 

He can't afford to sleep though, so he forces himself to stand. 

Willow follows suit, her gaze falling to his note on the fridge. 

"Going for a walk?" She whispers, eyes narrowed at the paper. 

He nods again and avoids eye contact. He doesn't want her to know about the sleepless nights. He has a feeling she would be pretty worried. He hopes his shadowed eyes don't give it away, but he can see her eyeing him. 

"Can I join? I can't sleep either." Her sleep clogged eyes and the empty glass in her hand tell a different story, but he isn't going to argue with her. 

"Yeah. I'd uh… I'd appreciate the company." He ignores Flapjack's supportive trill of "Yeah! Romantic walk!" 

She slides over to his side and grabs his hand to link their fingers. Her hair has fallen out of its usual braids to cascade across her shoulder blades and cover her pointy ears. 

"You lead the way and I'll follow, darling." Her face gets a pink tint to it as she says this, but Hunter assumes it's because of the heat of the house. He's burning up. 

Something flashes down the staircase, a blur of yellow and black, and he tenses. He relaxes when he recognizes Willow's palismen. Clover buzzes around him a few times before flying to

the door. Almost as though she already knew what was going on. Maybe she was eavesdropping…? 

They sneak out in the dead of night, the Noceda household disappearing behind the trees of the vast forest behind the backyard. 

Chapter Text

After a few minutes of walking, the pair's footsteps fall into a beat only interrupted by snapping twigs under their feet and singing birds above their heads. 

Hunter can't hold back his laughter when he sees Flapjack puffs out his little bird chest to belt the song back to the fellow birds. There was something special about that palismen of his: So pure and wholesome. He holds his arm up, and the palismen perches on his index finger. He mimics the little cardinal's song, whistling a four note through the gap in his teeth.

He gets so lost in the tune that he almost forgets about the girl besides him. Which is saying something, because he usually never stops thinking about Willow. 

Because they're such good friends. 

Willow swings their linked hands between them as they walk. She's hopping around as she walks, almost like she's dancing along to his whistling. 

The woods are erupting with music tonight. A melody made just for the two of them. 

Her words only add to the harmony. "Are you okay?" And her voice has a certain edge to it that he knows would not accept a lie.  

"I'm… I don't know." His voice is quiet, as though he's scared the universe will eavesdrop on their conversation. 

"You're going to be." She bumps against him slightly when she says this, causing him to stumble a little. They both laugh a little, eyes shining. "You've grown so much."

And wow, is that a scary thought. That he used to be so small and obedient. He hasn't always been like this, heart bubbling with interests and passion. He used to have only one passion: Keeping his Uncle safe. And sometimes he still thinks he would give his life to the Emperor, if the man wasn't already a pile of sludge and bones. 

He pushes all of that away: He doesn't want to think of that, not now. The scenery is too pretty for him to be stuck in his head. 

The trees tower around them, so huge. He feels small, but not scared or trapped. It's nice, like the trees have his back. Seeing as he has a Plant witch by his side, they probably do. Leaves and blades of grass tickle his legs as he trots forward, and he hopes that his watermelon pajama pants don't get too messy. He can hear crickets chirping, and he hadn't realized that they actually did that until now. He thought it was just a phrase, a vague saying his Uncle had made up. But it's true. Somewhere a little while away, he swears he can hear a bubbling stream. 

Who knew that sound could be so calming? 

Willow slows down to a stop. "How about we sit for a while?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to agree. He doesn't want to start too far away from the house. Besides, his eyes are starting to ache. A quick rest would be good. 

They find a fallen stump, just barely big enough to fit the two of them. Some kind of berries grow on a bush beside them. At his curious look, Willow plucks a handful to offer him. 

"They're wild blueberries. Safe to eat." 

He grabs one and pops it hesitantly into his mouth. He hums approvingly and closes his eyes for a second to savor the taste. When he opens his eyes again, he can see the witch beside him crack a smile.

"They're good, right? They only grow in the Human Realm. If they existed in our realm, I'd make a pie for my dads. I think they'd like blueberries." Her voice is bittersweet, fraying just a little. 

There's something about the way she says "our realm". Like it's just for the two of them.

And the rest of their friends, of course! Cause they're all really good friends! 

He's possessed by some kind of protective nature, and he knows he has to do something to make her at least a little less sad. He places a hand against the small of her back. They sit in the quiet for a while. He hopes that Willow understands his way of showing support. 

He must be feeling awfully bold because the next words surprise even him. "Want to dance with me?" 

She turns her body to face him, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Hmm?"

"Do you uh… Do you want to dance with me…?" He stutters out, suddenly self conscious. Was that dumb to suggest? Of course it was. Too late to pull back now though. "All of the noises kind of sound like music so I just thought…"

Willow gets to her feet, a smile growing across her face.

"Of course I'll dance with you, Hunter."

His face feels warm again, and he feels clumsy. "Oh! Yeah, cool. Glad to hear. That I'm uh… worthy of your dance." He throws a few finger guns to the girl in front of him and she giggles, shaking her head at his shenanigans. 

He stands, grabbing one last berry to eat. "We should come back tomorrow and collect some of these berries. Maybe we could make a pie." 

Her face softens, his sentiment shining through his words. "That's a great idea." 

She turns to face him, and he jumps a little when he notices how close they are. He can count the freckles dotting her sun kissed face, if he wants to. And he really does. Just not quite yet. She looks different than she does during the day. Her loud confident personality has softened, possibly because she doesn't feel like she has to pretend to be perfect in front of him. She feels like the moon, beautiful and sharper. And she does look sadder. But now she's smiling. He hopes that he can make her do that more. 

He's drawing a blank on what he should do next. Should he kneel? Grab her hands and whisk her away? He thinks about the movies he has watched with the group, with the corny romances. And he's struck with inspiration.

He bows, his back straight as an arrow and his leg folded behind him formally. He lifts his head to look up at her with glowing eyes. He offers her his hand. 

"M'lady, will you take this dance?" It would be more badass if he wasn't grinning ear to ear. 

She's quick to take his hand. She grabs the end of her nightgown to curtsy to him in return. "Of course, my prince." 

Awwwww, jeez. His brain short circuits. "I er- uh-" 

Her eyes crinkle fondly as she watches him fluster. He's freaking dying. And he can tell by the amused glint in the girl's eyes that she knows.

He ends up having to squeeze his eyes shut and take a few wobbly breaths to try and get his head on straight. When his eyes open again, he's almost surprised she's still there. Like he had expected her to disappear. Huh. 

She's still smiling, the sunshine of her happiness lighting up the darkness of the forest. He swears she shines brighter than any star. 

After his flustered hesitance, she gently takes charge. "Put a hand on my waist."

And he's burning up again. "Wha…?"

"For the dance, goofy." She swats his arm with a chuckle. 

And he obeys. But it doesn't feel like an order when his hand rests against her side. 

She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck, linking her fingers behind him. 

"I'm not the best dancer." He's quick to say with a sheepish smile.

"Me neither." She admits. "But that's okay. It's just for fun, and besides, the only ones watching us are the fireflies and the flowers. They won't tease us." 

They start with some light swaying, kind of like the dancing he used to see at Balls in the coven. And it didn't feel quite right. Much too stiff. 

He peels her fingers from where they wrapped around him, and links his fingers with hers. Her questioning head tilt is quickly replaced with a yelp of surprise as he spins her unexpectedly. 

"Hunter what are you-" She's giggling as he throws his weight around to spin her faster and faster. 

He can't hold back his laughter either. There's something about dancing under the moon and the rustling trees that makes him giddy. Of course, his dance partner is probably part of that giddiness too. 

They've stopped spinning, but haven't slowed down yet. If anything, their movements have gotten much faster, becoming more spontaneous and wild and free. 

He holds Willow's hand up so she can twirl, and she does the same for him. 

They're both breathless now. Willow is so close to him that he can feel her breath on his face. He tries not to breathe, not wanting to intrude. She is glowing, face flushed from the exertion of the dance. "I thought you said you couldn't dance." She whispers with a smirk, once her breath has returned. 

"I thought you said you couldn't!" He can feel adrenaline rushing through him, and it feels good. 

"Well I guess we were both wrong!" She pokes him in the ribs and he giggles. He slaps a hand over his mouth, embarrassed, but she snorts in response. Passion fills her eyes, along with some other emotion he can't quite identify. Fondness…? Can't be. 

Willow reaches out and grabs his hand. He gives hers a squeeze. 

Before he even processes what's happening, he feels a sharp yank and an excited voice say, "Aww, c'mere you!"

He stumbles and falls with an oof. 

And he is looking down on the plant witch he had landed on. She doesn't seem to mind too much, since the starlight hasn't left her gaze. 

She's so freaking close again. Her eyes match the color of the grass beneath them. He thinks her elbow is digging into his ribs, but he can't even feel pain anymore. He's so far gone. He almost wants to lean in closer and… 

Their noses graze, and he panics. He must've moved subconsciously! 

He rolls off of her, landing by her side. She doesn't seem to mind his clumsiness, instead just leaning her head against his. "This okay?" She asks softly, eyeing him from her peripheral vision. 

"Mhmm!" He mumbles with a squeak, and he wonders why it feels like the sun is beating on his face when it's clearly night. 

They must have landed in a field of flowers, because beautiful plants surround them. He can feel dandelions poking into his tousled hair. And some sort of wild flowers, purple and delicate, grow in the space between him and Willow. He closes his eyes. Maybe the dancing wore him out more than he had thought. 

He can see Willow's eyes flutter as well, but she's fighting valiantly to stay awake. 

The music of the forest still surrounds them, birds singing their soft songs and bumblebees humming with content. It's all become background noise compared to the sound of slow breathing next to him. He can feel his own breaths slow to the same beat as Willow's. He wonders where their palismen are. They probably went and joined the other animals with their songs. He can almost hear Flap's signature four-note if he listens hard enough. 

"Hey Hunter?"

He hums, turning his head slightly to face her. 

"Do you… Do you miss anyone in the Isles?" She's moved her hands to her chest, where she twists her fingers. 

"No." His response is too quick, and he can feel her disbelieving stare on him. "Okay… yeah."

She turns to him, resting her elbow on the grass below them to settle herself into a more comfortable position. 

"It's… it's so dumb."

"Mmmmm, doubt it." She gives him an encouraging smile, and he feels like his secrets are safe.

"I miss Belos." He blurts it out without thinking, ripping the band-aid off quickly. They both flinch. 

"I… I know it's wrong. He was a dictator! He… wasn't always the... kindest to me, either." Exaggeration of the decade. His hand grazes his scarred face, and he feels Willow reach out to pull his hands into hers. 

"But… he was my only family. For so long. I just- I wanted to make him proud, you know?" He can just barely hear the wobbliness of his words over the wind. 

"He's dead." His voice is unintentionally harsh on those words. He tries to soften his tone. "He's dead, so why do I still miss him? Shouldn't I be happy he's gone? He hurt me." The shakiness turns into cracking, and his words fizzle out. 

Willow looks thoughtful and sad, but not betrayed. She doesn't… hate him? 

"Well." She starts carefully, her eyes wide with wisdom beyond her years. "I don't think love listens to logic. And there's not any way you have to feel. This is a complicated situation. That…man…" Her voice carries a dangerous tone to it, but he knows it's not aimed at him. "... raised you for sixteen years. Of course you would still care about him. Especially since he manipulated you into dismissing his horribleness. 

There's not any magic words I can say to make things better for you." She says this with honesty and a little bit of regret twinging her thoughts. "This is so much, and I can't fix you up as good as new like I want to. But you shouldn't have to feel guilty for caring about someone. He never should have used your innocence and your love for evil. I'm so sorry, Hunter." 

And he's crying. Fuck. He raises the back of his hand to try in vain to wipe the tears but they flow too fast for him to catch. She raises her arms and he falls into them with a little sob. 

She's whispering sweet nothings into his ears. "You're okay, darling. No one will ever hurt you again, unless they want rose thorns in their intestines. I promise you that I'll keep you safe." And he feels so safe in her arms. Of course, he can take care of himself, but it's nice to have someone else do the fighting for a while. He's sick of being a fighter. 

He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. The tears have slowed down. "Thanks, Captain." His voice still shakes but not as badly as before.

"Anytime." He is curled into her side, face pressed into her neck.  

"You know, I thought I was an orphan for a really long time." He says rather unexpectedly. He surprises even himself, but he doesn't want to stop quite yet.

And she is listening, as she always is. 

He continues. "Uncle… No, Belos. Belos told me that my parents died. Killed by wild witches. I spent years thinking about them. I obviously couldn't remember them very well, but I always imagined that I got my hair from my dad. That's what Belos had always said." And he's nearing the touchy subject of Caleb, so he quickly moves on. "My eyes were from my mom. That's what I thought. I used to imagine them telling me stories like Belos had when I was little. I… I miss them too. Isn't that ridiculous, to miss someone that isn't even real?" 

Willow's frowning and he's not sure why until she says. "What do you mean, your parents aren't real…? I mean, you had to be born from someone. Maybe you did inherit those traits. Just because you never met them, doesn't mean they weren't real." 

Uh oh. He's done a little screw up. 

"I… er… yeah. Of course I was born. Everyone's born! It's not like children just grow out of the ground-!" Nervous giggles erupt from his mouth, and he has to be quiet. 

She drops it, apparently noticing his anxiety on the subject. She seems to get that he needs to rant more than he needs words of assurance at the moment. 

"But… yeah." He finishes lamely. "What…about you? Are you okay?" He has noticed that she hasn't exactly been expressing her emotions revolving around being trapped in the Human Realm. 

"I'm fine!" Her voice is high pitched. "I… miss my dads, of course, but they're probably fine! Everyone's going to be fine!" And she's so dismissive that he worries he crossed a line, so he stays silent. 

"C'mon, let's lay down again." She raises an arm for him to crawl into, and he's not even ashamed of his cuddliness like he usually would be. He feels uneasy dropping the subject of Willow's feelings so soon, but he doesn't want to push her too much. 

He's tucked into her arms again, his head resting on her shoulder. She's using her arm to prop her head up, and her eyes have slid closed. 

He's barely keeping his open too. 

"Maybe we should start to head back to the house?" He suggests, and he regrets it the second the words leave his lips. He doesn't want to leave this serenity just yet. 

"Yeah." She agrees with a sigh. "Just one more minute."

He's nodding in agreement, but her arms are so damn comfortable. He can feel himself slipping, and soon his world fades to black. 

He sleeps through the rest of the night, more peaceful than he's ever been. 

And if the rest of his friends end up searching for the pair of them for two hours the next morning, he's in ignorance bliss. Because he's too busy sleeping in a flower field with the most amazing witch he's ever met.