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Something was missing. It had been for a very long time, only Wylan couldn’t figure out exactly what for the life of him. All he knew was that there was something itching in his soul, reaching out for a missing puzzle piece when the picture appeared to already be complete. He had the Crows – his family, as close to a miracle as he had ever come because the frightened child within him had feared being alone forever and now he was here, in a cramped safehouse, voices mixing with the hum of the busy waters outside and firelight dancing across the hearth – and he had a sense of purpose for the first time in his life. And yet there was something off. Not a thought, but a feeling, which made it all the trickier to pin down and identify.
So. There was this strange sense of being incomplete and then there was the constant chill plaguing his very bones, ice piercing as deep as his soul. It was nothing new, but he’d hoped that his newfound happiness would help shake the issue. Wylan had been cold for as long as he could remember, with the exception of those faint early memories, framed in sunshine and gentle smiles and a mother’s love which were all lost to him too young. But throughout his childhood, all he could recall were harsh stone walls and ceilings and equally frosty expressions void of those warm smiles and kind touches which he craved. And so, after a while, he accepted the ice, because acceptance was easier than hoping for something he could not have.
The thing was, Wylan had been missing this unknown part – had been cold – for practically his entire life. This meant that he didn’t recognise it was an issue and, as the Crows hadn’t known him before the problem had developed, they also didn’t notice that anything was wrong. Because it wasn’t, not really, it was just that his very soul ached with longing for something he didn’t know, and sometimes, when Jesper looped an arm around his shoulders or Nina tousled his hair as she bustled past, his voice became caught up in his throat and his eyes stung for no apparent reason. But it wasn’t a problem. He could do the job and he did it well. He followed every order. Slotted into the Crows as if he had always been a part of their ragtag family. Loved them and was loved in return.
The point was, Wylan was fine.
And everyone agreed.
Until they didn’t.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jesper or Inej who picked up on the problem first. It wasn’t even Nina. Certainly not Kaz – although that was to be expected. No, the first person to take a second, closer glance and identify that perhaps there was something a little off about Wylan, was Matthias. No one ever expected Matthias to be as observant as he was and as a consequence they all tended to let their guard down around him, Wylan in particular, because at some point his brain had formed an association between Matthias and safety and warmth, as Matthias tended to be paired with him on missions as of late and they usually wound up sharing a coat and not gossiping as such, but something very similar.
It was on one such mission – post-mission, technically, as they were well on their way back to the safehouse – when Matthias first broached the subject. Jesper had vanished earlier alongside Kaz and Inej and Nina hadn’t been a part of this job, so it was just the two of them accompanied by the slosh of the canal at their side and a flock of scrawny gulls circling overhead.
Wylan was wearing a thick coat which was slightly too big for him with the sleeves pooling over his hands. He’d upturned the collar to shield his face from the windchill and yet still the cold air seemed to snake its way underneath so that shivers ran down his spine. He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders. Rough fabric scratched his jaw. He curled his hands into fists and tucked them into his pockets. There was ice in his veins. Instinct ushered him closer to Matthias, but he forced himself to maintain that distance between them.
Matthias’ footsteps were heavy and formed a steady soundtrack, mixing with the murmuring water and angered gulls attempting to poach from the market a couple of streets over. Tiredness kept Wylan’s mind hazy and so it took him a couple of minutes to register that those steps had stopped. He drew to a sharp halt and attempted to gauge Matthias’ mood which was difficult when the man was steeped in shadows.
“Uh…” Wylan struggled to find a smile. “Why did you stop?” Concern nestled in his chest, coiling between his lungs like a poisonous serpent and straining each breath as he searched his friend for any injuries, for blossoming blood or any other threat. He forced himself to relax. “Matthias? What’s wrong?”
“That,” Matthias began slowly, “is exactly what I wanted to ask you.” He lifted a gloved hand, muting Wylan’s protests. “You’ve seemed different lately. Sad, whenever you think no one is watching. You make yourself smaller.”
“I think anyone seems small next to you.”
Matthias tried to hide his amusement. “Wylan. I’m worried about you. Is there something upsetting you? If you have a problem, I could try to offer some advice.” His gaze darkened with a frown. “Is it Jesper? Did he do something?”
“What?” Wylan shook his head so frantically that his vision blurred. “No, no, it’s not- Jesper hasn’t done anything. There’s nothing wrong.” He plastered a reassuring smile on his face. “Really. I guess… No. There’s nothing.”
Matthias’s expression softened. “What were you going to say?”
“Just that… I don’t know. Maybe… it’s just that everything’s been going well recently and that makes me nervous because I keep expecting our luck to turn. Does that make sense?”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“Okay.” Wylan’s shoulders slumped. He repressed a shiver. “That’s uh… yeah. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine.”
Matthias studied him for a moment longer. Then, before Wylan had even registered the action, Matthias reached out and planted a hand on his shoulder. The point of contact was impossibly warm, secure, bleeding affection, and Wylan instinctively leant into the touch. His skin was alive as if there were a thousand volts running through his veins to the point where after a couple of seconds it almost hurt. He longed for the touch and yet couldn’t help but flinch away from the sensation all at once.
Not that it mattered, because Matthias was moving away again, those footsteps once again echoing along the walkway, his shoulders set against the wind, whistling faintly to the sickly winter sun. Wylan stared after him. His heart was pounding, pulse a thunder in his ears, louder even than the cries from the market. His shoulder itched from the touch. Warmth slowly sank back into the familiar ice. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and fell into step beside Matthias once more. If his eyes were stinging, then that was due to the bitter wind; nothing else and certainly nothing more.
After Matthias had pointed it out, Wylan couldn’t help but notice. Tiny, insignificant details, such how he held himself – arms wrapped tightly across his chest, running his hands over his biceps in a feeble attempt to kindle any semblance of warmth in his bones, shrinking into corners and pressing his back to walls, swamping himself in blankets until the weight felt like another person – and how he was always so cold. The ice appeared to be growing worse. It hurt – hurt badly – and the only way to feel warm was touch – Jesper would tug him against his side and all of a sudden Wylan would be able to breathe again, only the pressure beneath his skin and behind his eyes would grow too much and suddenly the warmth would be overwhelming.
Now that he’d noticed it, he couldn’t stop. The nights seemed longer and darker and the days seemed to be an endless expanse of ice. He curled into a tight ball under his blanket in bed and clutched a cushion to his chest, biting down on his knuckles to stifle the urge to sob because there were thin walls here and he couldn’t afford to let anyone know how weak he was, that something as simple as a lack of physical contact could reduce him to a miserable mess.
Loneliness seemed a very physical ailment. He felt sick with it. Exhaustion came hand in hand and weighed down every movement so that some days even getting out of bed seemed a far greater struggle than any heist had ever been. He curled a hand around his wrist, pressing a thumb to his pulse, and felt his heartbeat racing like a hunted rabbit as his imagination turned the blanket along his back to another person and the tangled fabric around his waist to arms. Somehow, even when surrounded by people, Wylan felt alone in the world, so excruciatingly alone that he wanted to just hide, because it hurt.
He dragged himself downstairs, too exhausted to put on his usual fake smile, and collapsed onto the sofa, curling into a ball. The blanket was half-tangled around his ankles and his shirt had slipped to expose a shoulder to the cold air, leaving goosebumps to rush across his skin, chasing shivers. He folded an arm beneath his head and rested his chin on the crook of his elbow. His eyes were stinging. He pressed his back to the cushions and inhaled sharply.
Inej materialised without a sound, ghostlike, and crouched down at his side. Her gaze was warm and openly concerned.
“Wylan,” she murmured, voice deliberately pitched low so as not to startle him. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Wylan seized upon the simple explanation. Part of him felt guilty about lying to Inej, but the truth was far too complicated and humiliating to even consider voicing. He nodded, ever-so-slightly, and closed his eyes in the face of Inej’s comforting smile and warm words. There was a slight shift in the air as Inej rose to her feet and slipped out of the room. Voices rumbled in the hallway. A cane tapped into the kitchen. Quick steps accompanied a sudden weight on the end of the sofa and then a tug at the blanket holding Wylan’s legs captive. He twisted and opened one eye.
“Hey.” Jesper sank onto the end of the sofa and pulled Wylan’s feet into his lap, making short work of untangling the blanket. “Inej said you’re not feeling too good?”
Wylan cleared his throat. His voice sounded feeble and raw even to his own ears. “Uh huh.” He bit his lip. “Cold.”
“You’re cold?” Jesper draped the blanket over him and leant in close to tuck it carefully around Wylan’s shoulders, right up to his chin, and ghosted a hand through Wylan’s hair for good measure, offering a smile. “Well, that’s unacceptable. I’m gonna file a complaint with… someone. Probably Kaz.”
Wylan huffed a tiny laugh. “I don’t think Kaz controls the weather. “
“Eh.” Jesper lifted one shoulder. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he does.” He planted a hand on Wylan’s ankles and tipped his head back against the sofa cushions to examine reflections from the grey seas outside play across the ceiling. His grip was impossibly warm, like an anchor against the swirling chaos in Wylan’s mind. “Is this okay?”
Wylan couldn’t untangle his voice from the strain in his lungs. He settled for a nod. Jesper made a noncommittal noise and returned his gaze to the ceiling. For someone who was always on the move, he certainly seemed content to remain where he was, rubbing gentle circles into Wylan’s ankles and humming folk tunes from his childhood. And Wylan- Wylan wanted to cry. The sob stayed locked away, but the burn behind his eyes and ache in his heart didn’t dissipate in the slightest. He curled in on himself a little and pressed his knuckles to his eyes, but the pain didn’t lessen, if anything it grew in intensity, but all he could do was ride it out. He was impossibly sad and even with Jesper right there he felt alone.
Time drifted onwards. Wylan turned his cheek to the soft corner of the blanket, hiding secret tears from the world. Outside, the sky was grey and murky and offered no clues as to the time, but eventually Jesper eased Wylan’s legs back onto the sofa and staggered upright, off-balance after so much time spent sitting.
“Wy?”
Wylan kept his eyes shut. He could sense Jesper hovering by his side, uncertain. Then, ever-so-gently, there was a kiss to his forehead before footsteps faded and the door once again closed. Wylan opened one eye to an empty room. His skin was electric from the touch. He clasped the fabric of his shirt into a fist directly above his heart and exhaled slowly. His breath snagged in his throat. He choked on a sob. Time continued regardless. He was alone, alone, alone, again and again and again.
At some point, he fell asleep. He woke to voices in the kitchen and the tempting smell of a freshly cooked dinner. He coaxed his legs into working, scrubbed a hand through his hair and down his face, and followed his nose to the kitchen. Matthias was the chef for the night, surrounded by pots and pans and a giggling Nina, swiping the spoon from him whenever she got the chance. Kaz was at the table, examining that morning’s paper, cane leaning against his seat so that the crow’s head gleamed in the golden light. Inej and Jesper were nowhere to be seen.
Wylan crept into the room on light feet and stole a place against the cupboards, sinking down to sit on the floor with his back to the wood. It was warm from Matthias’ cooking endeavours and Wylan tipped his head back, feeling that heat seep through his shirt into his skin. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them close. Someone’s gaze was hot on his face. He glanced up and met Kaz’s unreadable expression, hunching his shoulders self-consciously.
“Feeling better?” Kaz asked at last, voice gruff in an attempt to conceal the concern behind his words. He lowered his paper a fraction to give Wylan his full attention.
Wylan coughed. “Y-yes.” He ducked his head. “I’m okay now.”
Kaz didn’t appear convinced, but he lofted his paper again and didn’t probe further. Wylan melted against the warm cupboards and persuaded his imagination to pretend it was a person he was leaning against. Maybe Jesper. He closed his eyes. Nina and Matthias’ playful conversation soothed his frantic thoughts in a sleepy haze. Whatever was cooking smelt great. Paper rustled as Kaz turned a page. Finally, mercifully, Wylan felt himself begin to relax. The thunder in his ears quietened. He took a deep breath and then another. And, for a few hours, he was okay.
But then the ice returned, and the torturous cycle started all over again.
Despite craving touch – please, please, please, just a tap to the shoulder, a quick hug, anything – Wylan couldn’t help but flinch away whenever it was offered. He longed to draw closer, to melt into whatever was provided no matter how small, but it was too much. The fire under his skin, the electric jolt from the slightest of touches – it was wonderful, but it was also painful. And yet he looked forward to those moments above all else. He didn’t realise quite how badly he needed them until even those tiny touches were taken away too.
Touch was a… well, it was a touchy subject amongst the Crows. Nina had no hang-ups and neither did Jesper. Matthias didn’t dish out affection like the other two, but he also didn’t have any dark memories around physical contact. Kaz was a no go. No one dared even broach the subject. He couldn’t stand it and they all cared about him and respected him enough to respect that. A similar attitude was taken towards Inej, who, unlike Kaz, was prepared to accept and provide touch but was evidently uncomfortable and so tended to avoid it too. Once again, it was a closed conversation that would remain unspoken. They all bore scars from their pasts. And so, when Matthias noticed Wylan flinching from physical contact and mentioned this to the others, they didn’t question him, just like they didn’t question Inej or Kaz, they just accepted it and withdrew from him, not wanting to trigger bad memories.
Wylan spiralled within a matter of weeks.
It was a strange thing – recognising that you were falling deeper than you ever had before but being unable to stop yourself. He threw himself headfirst into the various jobs Kaz presented them with and worked harder than ever. His hands were raw from chemical mishaps as he developed new inventions on a weekly basis. Ice found its way to his heart. At night, he couldn’t sleep. He roamed the corridors and committed every inch of the safehouse to memory. Smiles were a foreign concept. Happiness? He had never heard of it.
It was ridiculous. He’d gone years without touch and back then he hadn’t even had people around who cared about him. Now, surrounded by his family, he couldn’t work out why it was suddenly such an issue. He tried his best not to let on that he was struggling. Every time Kaz spoke to him, his heartrate skyrocketed, palms sweaty, fearing that he was about to be kicked out.
“Wylan,” Kaz called after him before Wylan could flee, following yet another innocuous conversation that had nearly had him in tears from panic. “Wylan.”
Wylan froze. “Yes?”
Kaz let out a weary sigh. “I can’t force you to talk, but… whatever it is that’s bothering you, you have people who can help.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
Wylan was expecting Kaz’s usual response, dry and sarcastic, whoever said I was worrying? Instead, Kaz held Wylan’s gaze and said simply, “Except I do.”
He stepped aside and let Wylan go without another word and the confession remained forever unaddressed, but no one could deny the increase in displays of Kaz’s unofficial protective streak towards Wylan.
“Can I ask you something?” Wylan asked Jesper one night, on opposite ends of the sofa, Jesper half-draped over the arm as if he couldn’t get any further from Wylan if he tried. Wylan tried not to focus on the way the thought tore his heart into ribbons.
Jesper gestured vaguely, without so much as a smile. His usual grin had been missing for weeks, almost as long as Wylan had been without touch. “Go ahead.”
Wylan held a cushion tightly to his chest. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“Have you-” Jesper looked genuinely baffled. “What? No. What are you on about? Of course you haven’t done anything.”
“Are you sure?” Wylan gnawed on his lower lip until he tasted copper. Then why won’t you touch me? “Because… you’d tell me, right? If I’d done something wrong?”
“Wylan,” Jesper repeated, leaning forwards to brace himself against his knees, voice suddenly serious and worried. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You haven’t upset me. What’s this all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Wy,” Jesper whispered, strained and painful like a plea. He dragged a hand down his face, eyes overly bright with unshed tears, and something in Wylan’s chest lurched. Things had been off between them for a while now, but this was the first he’d seen Jesper cry. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I…” Because it was embarrassing. Because Wylan just needed to get over this and accept that he was being ridiculous and that the lack of touch wasn’t an issue, not really, because he was fine, and- He couldn’t say any of it. “Jesper,” he began instead, trailing off.
Jesper shook his head. “Saints, I can’t do this with you.”
“Wait-” Wylan looked up sharply. “What? What does that mean?”
Jesper studied the floor for a long moment. “This isn’t going to work if you won’t talk to me. If we can’t- There’s obviously something going on with you and you don’t have to tell me the details, but if you won’t even admit that there is a problem then… I trust you. That’s- And you don’t trust me. Clearly. So… I’m not doing the one-sided mess again. It’s not- I mean, fuck, Wy, I like you, I really like you, you know that, but this isn’t working right now. I don’t know why. I want us to work. But I- uh- Yeah. It’s- When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here, but until then- I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Wylan stared at Jesper’s vacated spot until the door had stopped swinging in the man’s wake. His mind was racing, too many thoughts swirling too fast for him to grip any one of them. He couldn’t- Every fibre of his being hurt. The room was blurry. Water dripped onto his knees, his hands, the carpet, and he lifted a thumb to his cheek to discover he was crying. His head was pounding. His chest was tight. He tripped over his own feet, slipping and sliding on the floorboards in his desperation to reach his own room, in the attic, tucked away from everyone.
The world was collapsing. Only it wasn’t. The streets were still crowded. The sun was still setting, and the moon was still rising. The gulls were still pattering about on the tiles. It was only Wylan’s world which was folding in on itself like a house of cards and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t exist like this. He crumpled onto his bed on shaky legs, shivering and sobbing and he wanted someone to hold him, to promise that it would be alright, but there was no one there and maybe that was just a rule of the universe – that he was always destined to be alone.
You never truly appreciated anything until it was taken from you. Wylan understood that now. He’d spent so long hoping for more touches that he hadn’t appreciated the small semblance of physical affection he’d already received until that was gone too. He hadn’t appreciated his unspoken thing with Jesper until it was gone. He hadn’t appreciated that fleeting feeling of contentment, of happiness, until it evaporated too leaving him cast adrift on an endless ocean of agony.
He didn’t leave his room for roughly forty-eight hours. He watched the sun trace patterns across the carpet through dusty windowpanes, and then he observed moonlight copy those same patterns in silver rather than gold. His head pounded. His mouth was dry. There was blood licking his lips where he’d torn skin. He had his own arms wrapped around himself so tightly that his ribs ached. His nails bit crescents into his palms. His head was a mess of too many thoughts and yet nothing at all seemed to register with his conscious mind.
The door creaked open. He barely noticed. He hadn’t moved in hours. He was probably about to fuse with his blanket before too long. Uneven steps came to a halt beside the bed and then it dipped under the weight of a second person.
“Wylan,” Kaz said quietly. Just his name. Nothing more. Nothing less. A lifeboat in the storm. Wylan rolled onto his side to spy his friend. “Can you sit up?”
Wylan struggled to prop himself upright on an elbow. He was shaking violently. Kaz passed him a glass of water and Wylan took tiny sips until he’d drained it. He lowered the glass to his lap, shivering, eyes brimming with tears once more.
“I’m s-sorry.”
Kaz shook his head. “None of that. You don’t need to apologise. Now, will you eat something if I bring it to you?”
“Um…” Wylan sniffed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I can try.”
“As long as you try, that’s all I ask.”
Kaz had never been this soft with anyone, as far as Wylan knew.
“Thank you.”
Kaz studied him, that strange, unreadable expression returning. Then, tensing as if steeling himself against a great torture, Kaz reached across and, for just the slightest of moments, clasped the nape of Wylan’s neck in a gloved hand, impossibly gentle, then quickly retracted his arm.
“You’ll be alright.”
Wylan peered up at him through wet lashes. “How do you know?”
Kaz offered him a wry smile. “Because you’re one of my Crows and my Crows are strong.” He rose to his feet. “You should wash. I’ll bring you some food. Inej is downstairs if you fancy some company.”
Wylan palmed the base of his neck as the electricity under his skin faded back into the usual ache and, for the first time in weeks, a faint smile played at his mouth. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak and crept to the bathroom. By the time he was in fresh clothes and had soaked the tearstains from his face, Kaz had brought him a plate of plain toast and another glass of water and Nina was sprawled across his bed like an overgrown housecat.
“I ordered her to stay downstairs,” Kaz announced with a pointed look at Nina. “But she insisted.”
“Firstly,” Nina shot back, lifting a finger to emphasise her words, “I don’t take orders from you. Secondly, you give orders and then you give orders-orders, and this definitely wasn’t an order-order, so…” She patted the bed and lolled on her back to glimpse Wylan. “You don’t mind me, do you, Wy?”
Kaz passed him the plate of toast. “I’ll see you later, Wylan.”
“That’s ominous,” Nina sing-songed. Kaz closed the door behind him harder than necessary. Nina giggled. “Oh, he’s grumpy.”
She shuffled up the bed to lean against the wall, stretching her legs across the sheets and pulling a pillow into her lap to occupy her hands. “I was going to bring you waffles, but someone said that would be too much right now because you haven’t eaten in days. Which, by the way, is a very bad idea and I do not approve.” She tilted her head. “Sit down, Wy, honestly, you know I don’t bite. Well. I won’t bite you, anyway.”
Wylan gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. He craved moving closer, throwing himself into Nina’s space, but he knew she would jolt away, and he didn’t think his fragile heart could cope with that at current. He drew his feet onto the blanket to sit cross-legged, balancing the plate in his lap and nibbling at the crust while his unsettled stomach growled in protest after so many days of being empty.
Nina studied him, framed by fading light, twirling a lock of hair around her finger contemplatively. She nudged the glass of water within his reach and watched with a satisfied smile as he took a sip.
“What happened?”
Wylan picked at the edge of his toast. “Don’t you know?”
“Sort of. Bits and pieces.”
He screwed his eyes shut as tears threaten to make another appearance. His throat seemed to close up as he struggled to untangle the words, until he finally ground them out in a ragged voice.
“I think… I think Jesper and I broke up.”
“Oh. Oh, sweetie.” Nina’s expression crumpled. “Oh, Wylan, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” She shook her head. “Ignore me, that was a stupid question.”
She reached over, hand hovering just short of touching his shoulder, and Wylan couldn’t help but collapse into the contact, biting back a pained whimper as warmth ignited from the point. Nina tightened her grip, squeezing.
“Wylan,” she asked gently. “Would you like a hug?”
Wylan didn’t trust his voice. He nodded mutely. Nina opened her arms, beckoning him closer, and he crawled over the blanket until his arms gave out. He ended up knocking his chin painfully against her shoulder, but it didn’t matter because he was finally warm. Nina wrapped her arms around him and held him close, held him tightly, held him like he didn’t need to fear that she would let go, and he choked on a sob.
Nina hushed him, carding a hand through his hair. “It’s going to be alright, Wy. You’ll figure it out.”
Wylan melted into her arms. He was a lightning storm made human. Everything ached and he couldn’t stop crying but in the best way possible. He buried his face in her shoulder and tried to keep quiet as she ran a hand down his spine, tracing soothing circles across his upper back, murmuring affection into his hair, still damp from his wash.
“Is this okay?”
Wylan withdrew a fraction – and immediately wanted to fall back into her arms – just enough to gauge whether she was being serious or not.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Nina blinked. “Because… you don’t like being touched?”
“Who told you that?”
“You flinch whenever anyone touches you.”
“Because I’m not used to it, not because I don’t like it!” Wylan’s voice broke. He took a moment to breathe deeply. “I… I actually really, really want to be hugged. It’s embarrassing.”
Nina’s eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, Wylan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t- We didn’t realise. We just- We assumed- Oh, no. No. How long has it been?”
“Um…” Wylan ducked his head and mumbled the words into her shoulder. “Like… two months. Nearly three now. It’s not a big deal. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m really sorry, Nina. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Nina cupped the back of his neck to encourage him to curl against her. He wasn’t sure why he was trembling, but Nina enclosed his hands between her own until his fingers had stopped shaking so violently. It was all so much, and the exhaustion hit him like a brick wall.
Nina planted a kiss on the crown of his head. “Go to sleep,” she murmured. “I’ll stay with you.”
Nina was a lifesaver sent by the Saints as she volunteered to clear up their marvellous display of miscommunication on Wylan’s behalf, which was a good thing as Wylan was almost one hundred percent that he would never have been able to bring himself to say the words I secretly like hugs now please start touching me again. Or something along those lines. But Nina assured him that she would take care of it, and he trusted her.
Things were far from perfect. Nothing had truly been fixed. Matthias – apparently the person who had raised the issue of Wylan and touch in the first place – was now plagued by guilt and refused to look Wylan in the eyes. Kaz thought they were all idiots – nothing new there. Inej was horrified. Nina stuck close to Wylan’s side all week and then the next. But Jesper? Nothing. For a while, he was nowhere to be found, vanishing into the depths of the city, leaving Wylan to watch over those glittering lights and pray to Saints he wasn’t sure if he believed in to please, let him be safe.
After twelve days, even Kaz began to nurse an element of concern, not that he would ever admit to it. He disappeared for forty-eight hours with Inej and returned with an exhausted Jesper in tow. Wylan hung back, unsure whether he was welcome, but also because there was a certain bond between those three which the rest of the Crows would never fully be able to share.
In the strange hours between too late and too early, Wylan drifted awake with a sense of wrong in his heart, not quite sure as to what had woken him. He sat up, blanket pooling in his lap, watching lights shift across the floorboards. The blanket seemed too soft all of a sudden.
He crawled out of bed and crept downstairs, slowly, each step cautious, until his feet carried him instinctively to Jesper’s door. He tipped forwards, pressing his forehead to the woodwork, and listened. And there – an unmistakeable sound that tore his heart into shreds – faint sobs, muffled, pained as if the person were trying desperately to turn the hurt back in on themselves rather than let it escape and infect anyone else. He slid down to sit propped against the door, unwilling to enter in case he was unwelcome but equally unable to walk away, so he drew his knees to his chest, clasping a hand to his mouth to stifle his own tears as he listened to Jesper cry.
And-
No.
Wylan refused to just sit here while someone he loved was in pain. He rose to his feet and slipped into the room before he could stop himself.
Jesper lurched to his feet, gun at the ready within seconds, instincts taking control. Recognition dawned a moment later and he lowered the pistol back to the table.
“Saints, Wylan,” he muttered. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
Wylan closed the door behind him until he heard the latch click. Then, before he could waver, he strode across the room and caught Jesper’s hands in his own.
“You asked me to talk to you. Well, here I am. I like you. I like us. I don’t want to lose that. You asked me why I was upset – because I… I like being touched. And I didn’t have that for years and then I sort of got it but then it was taken away again, and I didn’t understand why and- You asked me what I want…” He inhaled sharply. “What I want is you. And right now, I want you to hold me.”
Jesper studied him, frozen, searching for words. “I’m sorry, Wy.”
“I’m sorry too.”
Jesper wrapped his arms around Wylan and pulled him close to kiss his forehead.
“I love you,” he breathed, like it was a secret just for the two of them, and Wylan followed him as his steps took them backwards, collapsing onto the bed so that the entire structure squeaked, and Wylan had to fight a laugh. Jesper held him tightly, looping an arm around Wylan’s waist, keeping him close, so close that all Wylan could focus on was Jesper’s pounding heart and that faint scent of gunpowder that always clung to him and the warmth of being safe and being unquestionably, irrevocably loved.
The next morning, when Jesper grabbed Wylan’s hand on the way downstairs and didn’t let go, not even when they were sat at the table for breakfast, Kaz cast a knowing look over them and gave Jesper an approving nod.
“Fixed the problem, boss,” Jesper quipped.
Kaz turned away with a fond sigh. “Yes, Jes, I can see that.”
It couldn’t be fixed overnight. Glaciers didn’t melt in a day. Melting the ice in Wylan’s bones took a long time and was achieved gradually. Nina was always tousling his hair as she passed or sweeping him into a hug whenever she felt like it – which was frequently. Jesper was always there, wrapping an arm around Wylan’s waist and tucking his chin on the crown of Wylan’s head, or planting a quick kiss on Wylan’s cheek, or casually pulling Wylan into his side, dishing out physical affection like it was free trick shots. And, slowly, Wylan began to stop flinching. Touch no longer felt like liquid fire but a summer’s day – pleasantly warm and very much welcome.
Inej would drift a hand across his shoulder in passing. Occasionally, after a near-miss or simply on a grey day that threatened to drag either of them into dark memories, she would catch his hand and squeeze until they had both stopped shaking. Kaz kept an eye on him too, ushering Jesper or Nina or Matthias into the room whenever he suspected Wylan could do with a grounding touch.
Matthias took a while to talk himself into forgiveness. He apologised sincerely over and over until Wylan eventually yanked him into a frustrated hug and refused to let go until Matthias accepted that it had been an honest mistake and that it was now in the past and all that mattered was the future.
Matthias tousled Wylan’s hair and gave him a fond pat on the back. “Honestly, kid, what am I going to do with you?”
“Never call me kid again,” Wylan threatened.
Matthias let out an undignified snort. “Okay, kid.”
“Matthias!”
There were many moments. Too many to count – and oh, what a wonderful problem to have. There was time spent on missions when Matthias would tuck Wylan under his arm and Inej would greet them both with a relieved smile and swift squeeze of their hands or, once or twice, a very haste kiss to Wylan’s temple. Nina dragged Wylan halfway across Ketterdam in search of the best waffles and tackled him in a hug when he brought her a box home while she was suffering from a cold and had been sulking on the couch for the past week.
Sometimes, all of them would sit in one room. Not necessarily talking, just finding comfort in one another’s presence. Wylan would take a corner of the sofa. On one such occasion, Jesper was the last to arrive and bounded through the door to promptly belly-flop across the cushions so that he was practically sprawled on top of Wylan. He tucked his chin over Wylan’s shoulder and snuggled closer.
Wylan cradled an arm around Jesper’s waist to keep him from falling. “Comfy?” he teased.
Jesper craned his neck slightly in order to press a kiss to Wylan’s jaw. “Yep. Very comfy. I’m just gonna lay on you for a bit. Cool?”
“Jesper,” Kaz drawled from across the room, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You are an idiot.”
“Never said I wasn’t, boss-man.”
Wylan traced patterns across Jesper’s upper back, overcome by a wave of affection. Jesper closed his eyes, content to drift into sleep right there in Wylan’s arms.
Nina sidled into the room with a plate of something sugary hidden behind her back which Matthias spotted immediately and pilfered despite her protests. She perched on the arm of the sofa next to Wylan, glowering at Matthias who shot her an innocent smile as if he didn’t have cookie crumbs decorating his knees. Inej hid her smile behind her blanket. Kaz treated them all to a fondly exasperated eye-roll. Jesper made a questioning murmur and Wylan petted his hair until he settled back into sleep.
“All okay, Wy?” Nina queried softly, smoothing curls back from Wylan’s forehead until he looked up and met her smile. Matthias moved to stand behind her so that she could lean against his chest, reaching down to give Wylan’s shoulder a pat at the same time.
Wylan spied Kaz trying to hide a fond smile.
“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head back to meet Nina’s gaze and realising in a rush that he actually meant the words. “I’m okay.”