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I.
Asra is only twelve, and already a light sleeper. The kids that live around the docks quickly learn to always be ready to defend themselves. Choose your places to rest carefully, keep a weapon nearby, wake up at the slightest suspicious noise - these are just the basics of survival.
Or, if you’re really lucky, you might find a friend willing to protect you.
Muriel is strong, quiet and moody. And not very liked. All the right reasons to protect him. Because despite being the absolute opposite of him (short, thin, too cocky for his own good), Asra can fight too. His magic is barely waking up, and it’s unfocused, causing outbursts and unexpected effects, but if he concentrates really hard, or if he’s really emotional, sometimes it can be channeled into something good.
So that’s how they met - two of them standing up against three other kids, and Asra managing to scare them off with a sudden column of fire he didn’t even expect to be able to summon. And this is how they stayed together: a friendship built on mutual respect and the need to protect each other.
And so right now, as Asra tosses and turns under a light blanket that is a really poor protection from the cold, Muriel is keeping watch, looking like an unmoving bundle of dirty clothes, staring into the darkness.
He’s so focused on expecting an outside threat, that it takes him a while to notice what’s going on with his friend.
The calling of magic doesn’t only manifest in physical spells and sudden overwhelmingly strong gut feelings - it also leaks into Asra’s dreams, providing him with unsettling visions and encounters with weird creatures. And right now the boy is having a nightmare.
He's standing on the last floor of a very tall tower, looking out the window. There's a beast circling around and ramming into the structure every now and then with its entire body, causing it to shake and crumble. A goat-like creature, walking on two legs, with flaming eyes and strong hooves. And Asra is frozen as it starts calling out his name.
Back in reality, Muriel is kneeling next to him, trying to shake him awake. And suddenly there's a knife at his throat as Asra jolts into a sitting position, trying to catch his breath, not recognizing the friend in front of him.
“Muriel,” he whispers finally. His hand acts on its own accord, opening slowly and dropping the knife, and he's swept into a tight hug. He closes his eyes, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Muriel's coat, his entire body shaking.
“I'm fine,” he croaks, but neither of them lets go.
II.
The first thing Asra realizes before opening his eyes is that he’s not home. For a moment he’s not sure where he is - only that this is not Muriel’s hut, and the smells and sounds surrounding him are strange and too loud, and he tenses, ready to jump to his feet and run if the need arises.
He cracks one eye open and looks around. A small room, a wide bed, and someone next to him.
He relaxes immediately as he recognizes the person, and he can’t hold back his grin as his heart flutters in his chest.
Ariya is still asleep next to him, naked and with messy hair, and he admires the view for a moment before carefully sliding out of bed and walking barefoot to the kitchen.
He doesn’t know where everything is, so it takes him a while to find everything he needs. But the pantry is well stocked, and he’s good at cooking. Soon there’s tea brewing - not his favorite, but it will do - and eggs sizzling on the pan, and he sets the table making sure everything is absolutely perfect.
Ariya arrives in the kitchen once the pleasant smells draw them out of bed, wrapped in a sheet and yawning. Asra freezes staring at them, unable to tear his eyes away, taking in every wonderful detail.
“Hey,” they say sleepily, and then look around the room. “You made food?” They ask, surprised, their eyes widening, and Asra decides he wants to see them like this every day for the rest of his life.
“I’m a pretty good cook,” he replies with a wink. “Make yourself comfortable.” He wants to kiss them again, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to right now, so he opts for plating up their food instead.
They solve that problem for him, coming up closer and hugging him from behind, and softly kissing the back of his neck. He holds his breath, amazed.
“You didn’t have to,” they whisper, and he puts the pan down to turn around and face them. He wraps his arms around them and kisses the tip of their nose.
“I wanted to,” he says simply, meeting their eyes.
They stay like this for a while, just looking at each other, smiling, until they remember the food is going cold. They sit down to eat laughing, still a bit shy, uncertain how to act.
Years later, this day becomes Asra’s fondest memory.
III.
Early morning light is pouring in through the tall windows, bathing the entire room in a yellow glow and forcing eyes to open. Two lilac eyes, specifically. Asra blinks sleepily, surprised to find another body in his bed, and even more surprised when he realizes who that is.
He pushes himself up and props his head up on his elbow, watching the sleeping doctor Devorak. The messy red curls spilling across the pillow, the sharp cheekbones, the serene smile - such a rare expression coming from Julian. Memories of the previous night slowly come back to him as his eyes trace the hickeys and marks he left on Julian’s pale skin, and he smiles too.
He lays back down and stretches like a pleased cat. So maybe they had a bit too much to drink last night. That, of course, is a lazy excuse - they both knew where the situation was going before they even opened the bottle. Because after weeks of teasing and dancing around the subject Asra got bored of playing dumb.
He rolls over closer to Julian and sneaks his arm around his middle, resting his head on his chest. The doctor automatically hugs back, not really waking up yet, and Asra closes his eyes, enjoying the comforting closeness, the cool touch of the satin sheets, the softness of a bed that doesn’t belong to him.
He’s been denying himself the simple pleasure of spending the night with someone for a while now. It felt like a betrayal of his absent lover - his heart clenches at the thought. But they’re gone, and they might not want to come back to him, ever. He’s lonely, and he’s heartbroken, and Julian is here: handsome, smart, and oh, so fun to play with. So why fight it?
He turns his head to press a lazy kiss to Julian’s chest, and then pushes up to trail kisses up his collarbones and neck. “Ilya,” he murmurs against his skin, earning a shiver in return. “Good morning.”
They lay together a while longer, until it’s time to part before breakfast.
“You don’t regret it, do you?” Julian asks quietly with his hand on the doorknob.
“Of course not,” Asra replies lightly. “What’s wrong with a bit of fun between friends?” He adds, looking for his clothes, his back turned to Julian.
He doesn’t notice the painful grimace on the doctor’s face, quickly replaced with a forced smile.
“Nothing, of course.”
IV.
“Ilya, can you please close the window? The sunlight is too loud.” Nadia’s tired voice wakes Asra up, and he lets out a groan as all his senses scream at once.
The room seems to be swaying slightly, and he shuts his eyes as soon as he opens them. He feels sick. His head hurts.
“Apologies, my dear countess, but I have completely lost control of my limbs,” Julian replies hoarsely from somewhere to the left of Asra.
The magician slowly reaches for a pillow and throws it blindly towards the source of Julian’s voice. Judging by the pained yell, he hit the target.
“Shut up,” he whispers. “I’m dying.”
Nadia snorts inelegantly, and silence falls once again in the room, as each of them fights their own battle with the hangover of the century.
“Hey.” Asra speaks up again after a while as he remembers something from last night. “Plague penis.”
There’s laughter, and then immediate wincing and groaning. Asra smiles, smug, and tries to open his eyes again. It works this time, and then slowly, very slowly, he manages to sit up and look around the room.
It’s a mess.
There’s more than a few empty bottles scattered around, and various scarves, wigs and costumes strewn all over the floor. He vaguely recalls Julian performing some monologues from different plays he knows. And then all of them trying to dress and act as Lucio, quoting his most memorable lines.
He hears Julian scrambling to get out of bed and rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him - and then some really ugly noises. Nadia sits up too, and they exchange a look.
“Consequences,” she comments dryly.
V.
The room in the back of the shop is dark and quiet, the curtains drawn, pillows and blankets scattered all over the wide, low bed with two figures in the middle. Ariya is laying across Asra's chest, their breathing shallow and their eyebrows knit in pain. They fell asleep soothed by Asra's voice, soft whispers and calming lullabies that gave way to silent crying once the magician was sure the other wasn't listening anymore.
But they are both asleep now. Asra eventually drifted away too, emotionally exhausted, his cheeks stained with tears. And when a sudden loud noise from the outside wakes him up (some cats knocking over an old ladder, chasing each other down the cobbled street), a shiver goes down his spine.
He fell asleep. He stopped paying attention. He stopped watching them, what if they broke when he looked away, what if…
...No. They’re still here, in his arms, warm and alive. He sighs with relief, his heartbeat steadying, and brings a hand up to their hair to play with it idly. It’s painful to see them like this, heartbreaking to know they won’t remember anything when they wake up. He briefly wishes he could consult a doctor - maybe even one specific doctor. This is mostly a problem with magic, yes, but maybe at least something for the headaches… But the doctor is gone, and shouldn’t come back for his own sake.
So Asra is alone with this, alone with everything he remembers. The apprentice (and what a ridiculous notion, really, to call them his apprentice, as if their magic wasn’t infinitely more refined and powerful than his own) is back with him, that’s true. But not fully. Everything they went through together, every shy glance and moment of bold flirting, every touch of hands, every dance, every kiss and every passionate night, all of that is gone. Possibly forever.
And that’s fine, really. What’s really important is that they’re alive. Now he only needs to make them healthy and happy, and expect nothing in return. And whatever they choose to do - it was worth it.
Asra closes his eyes again.
“I love you,” he whispers, barely audible.
The apprentice sleeps.
VI.
It’s almost noon when Asra finally wakes up, which is unusual for him, always a morning person, eager to start the day (and make up for it later through napping). But the previous day was emotional, and then… Then physically challenging. He is definitely not complaining though.
He stretches and spreads his arms, and pauses when his hands find only empty space where Julian and Airya should be. He sits up, blinking, immediately worried. But it’s late, and… And they just probably didn’t want to wake him up. They wouldn’t just leave.
His concern deepens once he puts a light robe on and wanders through the house, finding it empty. Ariya’s things are still around, but Julian’s clothes and bag is gone. He tries not to let his imagination run wild - but it’s difficult when he lost them both before.
Luckily, he has someone more sensible with him. He feels Faust sliding down a ceiling lamp and onto his shoulders, and looks at her expectantly.
“Well?” He asks, trying not to sound nervous, though he’s fully aware Faust can sense his feelings anyway. “Did they ditch us?”
Faust twists around to point at something at the counter, and Asra almost runs up to it to grab the note left for him. “ You looked too sweet to wake up. We’ll be back soon! ”
He laughs, all fear fading away, and for a moment presses the note to his lips. If Faust could roll her eyes, she would. Asra goes back to the bedroom to hide the note in one of the drawers, absolutely planning to save it forever.
When Julian and Ariya get back, there’s tea waiting for them, and Asra is pretending he wasn’t worried at all. He sends a murderous glare towards Faust when she cheerfully rats him out.