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What am I doing here?
This was a thought that always echoed through Wylan Van Eck’s mind. A thought that occured daily, whenever he felt out of place or stressed. A thought that repeated in his head every time he was called into his father’s office or was asked to read a sentence by one of his tutors.
In fact, it was the first thought Wylan had when his body plunged into the freezing waters of the canal.
The moment his body hit the water, it went stiff. Wylan realised he had severely underestimated the temperature. His entire body burned and he internally cursed himself for fighting back and not accepting whatever was coming.
He managed to take everything else for years, the abuse, the belittling from his father, the taunting from his peers while he still attended school.
Why did he have to fight back this time?
Deep down, he knew jumping off was the right decision, the only decision he could’ve made while in flight or fight mode.
What else was he supposed to do? Lay there going limp and purple in Priors’ grasp? No. For once he was going to try fighting back, even if it killed him.
At this rate, it looked like it might.
The water wasn’t just “cold”, it was freezing. The waves caused by his jump slammed into him like a shock, an unforgiving strike to his body.
It felt all too familiar.
It knocked the air out of his lungs as he thrashed around, trying to get his body into a fluid motion that would keep him afloat and get him away from the boat.
What am I doing here?
Within the first few minutes, his skin had started to go numb, his muscles ached and burned. Wylan could feel the water beneath him, it was thick and heavy, dragging at his clothes, slowing him down just enough to panic that either Miggson or Prior had dived in after him. However that panic fuelled his adrenaline, which was just enough to keep him going.
After what felt like hours, Wylan’s breathing stopped becoming so ragged and uncontrolled. If they were following me, He thought to himself, I would be dead by now. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m oka-
Wylan jerked his body around as a terrified cry escaped his mouth.
Every time the waves echoed off the canal walls or there was a small splash behind him, Wylan would be launched into panic mode, his heat rate spiking so high he was sure every heartrender for miles could sense it.
Every small ripple of water he caught in his peripheral vision caused him to think someone was behind him.
Someone to finish the job.
He frantically looked around, just to be safe, whilst pushed himself to keep swimming.
By the time a harbour was in sight, Wylan’s legs started to feel less a part of him and more of a useless tool, a dead weight with each kick more clumsy and unsynchronised.
On the other hand, he was thankful that his arms still had feeling because they clung on desperately to his satchel which contained his flute, a few kruge his father had given him and some other personal belongings.
The uneven grimy ground beneath Wylan felt like relief as he allowed himself to slump against the slimy harbour wall.
The initial shock from the numbing water had worn off now, leaving Wylan terrified, exhausted and certain he was going to freeze to death. Although he had no idea where he was, he told himself to keep moving.
Don’t stop.
As he stumbled towards the noise of the city, although it very well might’ve been his ringing ears or the voices in his head screaming at him, his heart pounded so hard it made his vision blur and his breathing become shallow.
Each step he took felt wrong, too loud, too heavy, his soaked boots squelching against the cobblestone. His legs threatened to buckle as the cold sank in deeper, clawing at his limbs, pulling at his strength and determination to keep going.
After about an hour of walking, Wylan’s exhaustion got unbearable. He stopped trying to find a place that looked safe and just hobbled into the closest one. It was a tall crooked building with noise blaring from the ground floor, but he saw three floors above that looked empty.
Maybe they could spare a room for tonight?
Just before working up the courage to go in, Wylan noticed a sign with a crow on it. A crow. The symbol for survival and resilience, this had to mean something.
Maybe it was Ghezen telling him everything was going to be okay?
“H-Hi…” Wylan croaked wearily, placing down a few crumpled and soaked kruge onto the front desk. “Um.. so i noticed t-that you have some empty rooms u-upstairs and i was wondering if you could spare one.. just for tonight…”
The intimidating man behind the counter didn't even glance at Wylan. “Listen kid, did you not read the sign?” His gravely voice was laced with annoyance. “This is a club, not a charity.”
“P-please sir, i can e-even wor-“
“I said this isn't a charity.”
The man dressed in all black slammed his glass down and swivelled around, a harsh look set on his face.
However, as his eyes locked on Wylan’s, there was a subtle change in his expression. Something flickered in the man’s eyes and a smug smile tugged at his lips as he examined Wylans face.
“Wait here.”
Wylan stood backed against the wall, trying to avoid the crowd. He watched as the man limped over to the other side of the room, his cane clicking on the ground as he approached a suli girl sat in the corner.
The conversation between the two seemed to go on for forever, with both of them glancing back at Wylan every few seconds.
He knew how pathetic he looked, standing shaking in the corner, clutching his bag and still dripping with water from the canal.
Imagine if my father saw me now.
Wylan shuddered at thought.
Eventually, the conversation ended and the suli girl disappeared amongst the rowdy crowd.
The man returned and cautiously took the bills, scanned them over for quite a while, and then directed Wylan up a flight of stairs.
Wylan was extremely grateful the man didn’t question why he was practically turning blue or why he turned up in the middle of the night begging for a place to stay.
The first thing Wylan did when he got to his room other than lock the door, and then double check it was locked, and then triple check it was locked, was take off his dripping wet clothes and leave them hanging over his bedframe to dry.
Although he did feel vulnerable and exposed in just his underlayers, it was certainly better than dying of hypothermia.
Calling this a room was extremely generous, he thought as he wrapped himself in the thin, reeking, blanket he was given.
And he wasn’t wrong - it was only a bit bigger than a broom cupboard.
There was a twin bed on a creaky wooden frame positioned at an awkward angle to maximise the room space, a small bedside table with a half melted candle and a small window that let a significant amount of cold air in.
It was obvious whoever owned these rooms did not care about the comfort of the people staying in them.
As expected, the mattress was lumpy and the pillow was deflated yet somehow too firm. Wylan was too tired to care about any of this, however, he was also too paranoid to sleep.
His mind was racing and running through all of the worst scenarios.
What if they followed me? The lock on the door is way too loose. Those footsteps… are they headed towards my door or away from me?
The walls of the building were also extremely thin which didn’t help.
Every time he heard the floorboards outside his room creak or someone a few rooms over coughed, Wylan’s breath hitched and his head instinctively swivelled around to gape at the door.
He vowed to himself that he would not fall asleep, petrified that Miggson, Prior or another one of his fathers men would break in and he would be too deep in sleep to realise it before it was too late.
Does my father have other men here? Where even am I?
As the realisation sank in that Wylan had no idea where he was, he tried to replay the hazy memories of the city.
The drunken people fighting, their shouts slurred together. The stench of vomit that seemed to linger no matter what street he was on. The squalid slums that looked ready to cave in on themselves.
Where am I?
The uproar in gambling dens. The open sewers and filth covered streets. The many groups of sketchy people hidden away in dark alleyways.
What am I doing here?
The neglected architecture. The rats scurrying around on the cobblestone. The fact nobody even questioned why a child was stumbling around, shaking and soaking wet, looking half dead and ready to collapse.
Then it hit him. The Barrel.
Wylan didn’t need to know a lot about The Barrel to know it was a dangerous place. He knew from his father and other wealthy merchants that it was a “place of filth, vice, and violence”.
He knew it was dominated by threatening gangs who wouldn’t hesitate to put a knife to his throat if it meant getting a few extra kruge in their pockets. He also knew it was bracketed by two major canals, which would explain how he got there.
All of this new information overwhelmed Wylan as he sat shaking on his stained mattress, trying to plan out his next move.
3:16. That’s what the clock above his bed read.
Just hang on for a few more hours. People are less likely to kill you in broad daylight…right?
But despite all of his efforts, Wylan eventually surrendered to his exhaustion and he inevitably drifted off into a sleep that he dreaded.
Wylan didn’t usually dream.
Although he didn’t, his nights were the part of his day he looked forward to the most. From the moment he woke up, he knew no matter what happened he would be greeted with a calming darkness.
His nights were peaceful. They were quiet. They were an escape from everything and the only point of stability he had in his life.
However tonight, he dreamed.
He dreamed he was back on that boat, staring out at the clear night sky, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while as water quietly sloshed in the background and the hum of the boats mortars echoed through the silent night.
The smell of clean air was so refreshing compared to the musty scent of old furniture and dusty carpets that filled every room back at his fathers house.
Wylan looked up and grinned. He was finally seeing constellations and stars littering the sky with his own eyes, not just in his astronomy textbooks or out of his windows with through droopy eyes after a rough day.
The big dipper! Or was it the little dipper? I’ll sketch it down now and check it in my book later!
The music school Wylan was meant to attend in Belendt was supposed to be a fresh start from everything he knew. It was supposed to be a place where he could fit in. A place where nobody knew about his… deficiencies.
When he first stepped onto the boat, Wylan felt a strange sense of pride knowing that he would no longer be a burden to his father.
All of those times when his father wished him away, when Wylan was told how he was a disgrace to the Van Eck bloodline, could all be left in the past.
He also felt a wave of relief knowing in Belendt, he wouldn’t be forced to read. He wouldn’t be forced to sit at a desk for hours each day whilst someone loomed over him, spitting out deminishing remarks.
Even a five year old could do this Wylan. You’ll never be an heir worthy of taking over my business if you can even spell your own name. Pathetic.
Wylan would wake up, excited for what the day had in store for him. He would spend his time doing things he was passionate about and talking to his friends.
Friends!
Wylan hadn’t really had any real friends before, only forced, awkward interactions with other merchant’s children that he had nothing in common with.
After being taken out of school, any connections with the outside world and other people from his classes were lost. If Wylan was being honest, he wasn't really sure they valued his company enough to actually care about his absence.
Whenever he asked, his father had scoffed in his face and seemed genuinely entertained by the thought of people caring about his son.
Sure, in his new school someone may give Wylan written instructions or pass him notes, but he could just claim their handwriting was unreadable or he was better with verbal instructions.
Technically he wasn't lying.
Anyways, it didn't matter at that moment, the journey was long and he would have plenty of opportunities to think this over. Right now, he was just going to enjoy the exhilarating feeling of freedom he so rarely felt.
That didn’t last long.
He then dreamed he was back under Priors’ harsh grab, his rough palms scraping along Wylan's neck.
It had been the first night of travelling, and Jan Van Eck had insisted that Wylan needed to be escorted by two guards, ignoring his son’s adamant refusal against it.
I’m old enough to get on a boat by myself, sir. If you’re allowing me to stay in Belendt by myself, surely I should be able to travel unaccompanied?
That attempt of rebellion (as his father called it) did not end well.
Despite being a crisp and bitter evening, there was no wind, leaving the water relatively still and unbothered. The atmosphere was placid but Wylan couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of trepidation within him.
It was peaceful. Almost… too peaceful.
His father had resented him all throughout his childhood, taunted him, despised him.
Ever since his mothers death, ever since his dyslexia diagnosis, everything changed. Jan Van Eck was no longer Wylan's father, he was a complete stranger that coincidentally lived under the same roof and shared the same blood.
So why was he given an easy escape from all of it?
Wylan had spent countless nights praying to Ghezen to be free from all of this. Every night since he could remember he was silently crying under the covers and wishing for something, anything to change.
He wished for his ma to come back. He wished for a better father. He wished to be a better son, to be able to take over the Van Eck buisness, to escape.
Was it finally happening?
Were things finally looking up for Wylan Van Eck?
Smiling to himself, Wylan carefully opened his satchel and retrieved his flute. The final gift his mother had given him before she passed.
“Play for me” She had said, combing her hand through Wylan’s hair as he curled up closer to her under his duvet. “Promise to play for me whenever and wherever you can”
“Yes ma!”
Now seemed like a fitting time to fulfill that promise. Just as he brought the flute up to his lips, breathing in, ready to play the first note with a song in mind,Wylan heard a hacking cough behind him.
Wylan flinched at the sudden noise and whirled around.
He realised he recognised the man - Prior. One of the men his father had sent to accompany him to Belendt.
Despite being one of his fathers ‘trusted men’ to escort him, he had never seen him around. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't even heard the name up until a few days ago.
“Saints, you scared me there!” Wylan stammered, giving himself a self pitying laugh and swiftly tucking his flute back into his bag, embarrassed to have been seen. “I-I know its late..um i’ll head back inside in a minute.”
When Priors unsatisfied expression didn't shift in the slightest, he added a quick “Sorry”, just to be polite.
The seconds that followed after that were blurry.
Wylan remembered there was a strong force pressing down on his neck. He remembered thrashing and clawing at Priors’ hands to no avail.
He remembers spluttering and coughing as his limbs became weaker and he became more disoriented
He remembers his vision fading and his breathing becoming shallower.
He also remembers prying Priors’ hands away for just a moment, which allowed Wylan to throw himself overboard without thinking.
He dreamed about the freezing water stabbing at his body. However this time, he didn't swim. He sank. Despite all of his silent pleas begging his muscles to cooperate and keep moving, Wylan just sank.
He dreamed about the merciless currents dragging him under and the world around him getting quieter and darker.
I need to get air.
He dreamed about the panic that engulfed him as he gasped open his mouth and water flooded his burning lungs, leaving Wylan clawing at his own throat like Prior made been just a few minutes ago.
He dreamed about his vision going hazier and being trapped in the limp body that inevitably sank to the canal bed.
In his studies, Wylan had learned that drowning didn't necessarily hurt that much. Of course it still hurts. You were dying after all. But many survivors had reported a sense of euphoria before water entered their lungs, feeling peaceful and not fearing death or what comes after.
So why did this hurt so fucking much?
The pain that wracked Wylan's body was like nothing he had ever experienced. It was so so much worse than the countless beatings he had endured whilst growing up. He felt weak, he felt hopeless.
He was hopeless.
Every panicked thought seemed to only fuel this nauseating feeling more, sending waves of excruciating pain pulsing through his body.
Wylan tried to scream, but he couldn’t. The water didn't just muffle his cries, it completely silenced them and left him with an aching feeling in his chest
He internally sobbed and wailed in agony, but the pain only grew. Piercing jolts attacked his sides, the sensation so intense his muscles started to seize up and his eyes rolled back into his head.
Make it stop, he pleaded with his body, Please make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Makeitstop.
Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitst-
Wylan jolted awake in a cold sweat, his heart beating so fast it might actually rip out of his chest, gasping for air.
What am I doing here?
He flailed his arms in front of him, terrified he didn't know where he was and the darkness and cold air circling him only confused his senses more. What am I doing here? What am I doing here?
Whatamidoinghere?
Every instinct told him to run. Run far away, until he was certain the danger is gone. But he couldn’t, he couldnt even feel his legs, so he decided curling into a ball and trying to make himself as small as possible was the next best option.
Wylan isnt sure how long he sat there, shivering and hyperventilating, trying to will himself out of existence, but it was long enough for the events of the previous day to return to him.
As he slowly raised his aching head out of his knees, he suppressed uneven and shaky sobs and tried to control his breathing, Wylan realised that the sun had begun to rise, compelling him to wake up and face a day he really, really didn't want to.
Wylan’s clothes, as expected, hadn't dried at all. His checkered blue shirt and dark green waistcoat were damp.
Not too bad.
But his baggy, heavy, dark brown trousers were still soaked through and let out a puddle of water as he wrung them out. Also as expected, they stank of the canal and the other unpleasant things that were in it.
But Wylan thought that wouldn't matter too much, he was in The Barrel after all.
When Wylan slowly wrestled on his clothes, they stuck to his body, and made him feel trapped and helpless. Wet wool scraped his legs. His shirt suctioned to his skin and he waistcoat wouldn’t sit right.
And suddenly, he wasn’t stood in the crammed room anymore.
He was back slumped against the slimy, rotting wood of the harbours floor, the reeds pulling him under the current.
Focus on one thing at a time.
This was a method one of his old tutors had taught Wylan when he was about seven and undiagnosed with his dyslexia.
“Focus on one letter at a time, Wylan. Then one word at a time, and soon you will be able to read sentences, paragraphs even, with ease.”
Of course that trick never helped with reading, but he learned he could apply to other scenarios to ground himself and come back to his senses.
Focus on one thing at a time.
Wylan could feel the hard, solid floor beneath his boots. He could feel the cold air nipping at his face, he could hear people outside, children outside, giggling and running through the busy streets, having fun.
A wave of jealousy washed over him.
This was how my childhood was supposed to be spent. Doing things I enjoy, painting and solving equations. Not hunched over books for hours every day staring at useless scribbles on the page, pleading over and over with a shaking for someone to understand that I can't do it.
Slowly, his senses came back to him and his clothes no longer felt as suffocating, only uncomfortable.
Maybe I can just stay in this room? Wylan thought, They’ll surely be looking for me, so I'll just wait it out. No matter what happens, he promised himself, im going to stay in this room. Im going to survive.
However, this promise to himself was broken when the unmistakable smell of freshly baked stroopwaffels drifted through the cracks of the window frame.
Despite himself, Wylan smiled. Back at home, anytime after Wylan had had a particularly tough day, his ma would always bake stroopwaffels for him.
After she passed, they were one of the only things he felt kept that connection with her. Using her recipe and using her kitchen supplies made it feel like she was still here, still acting as the glue that held their family together.
Wylan walked up to the window and pressed his forehead against the glass, breath fogging up the pane. There were already people lining up just across the street. Normal people, doing normal things on this very normal day.
A group of Shu tourists. A mother with two children. A couple holding hands.
Suddenly he felt very aware of the final few kruge he had in his pocket.
He timidly unlocked his door and made his way down the stairs, his boots squelching on the dusty, maroon carpet as his satchel swung by his side each step he took.
The smell only got stronger outside of his room. The melted butter, the sweet caramel, the brown sugar sticking to the pan.
His brain moved faster than his feet, descending the stairs which creaked with each step he took and the thin coat of paint on the banister peeled off as he ran his hand down it.
As he reached the landing, Wylan peered his head around and saw it was significantly more empty than last night.
The man from last night was still behind the bar and making conversation with the same suli girl who now had her hair in a neat braid.
Wylan began to scan the room for the easiest way to exit without disturbing anyone when his eyes landed on a guy in the corner. Wylan felt his face heat up.
It was unfair. How could someone wear the most atrocious colour combinations and look that good?
Flashy green trousers. A sparkling yellow waistcoat. Honestly, it looked like the guy had stolen a costume from the komedie brute. The colours clashed so badly it should've been painful to look at.
On anyone else, it might’ve been.
But there the guy was, sprawled out in of the booths like he owned the place and occasionally laughing with the suli girl sat at the counter. Somehow he made it work. Made it look effortless.
Wylan looked down at his shoes quickly, knowing that his face was probably bright red.
“Wylan.”
Wylan's head snapped up and he locked eyes with the man from last night.
How does he know my name? Did i tell him? I cant remember.
“Oh! Um.. hi. Sorry, im just going out now… if thats okay? I can be out by tonight if you want, thanks again for letting me sta-“
“Thats okay. You can stay.”
What? This guy had been so reluctant to let Wylan stay last night and now he was letting him stay for longer.
“Oh… um well i don’t really have any more kruge so….”
Wylan trailed off as it dawned on him that he looked like a mess. His curls weren’t brushed, his clothes stank and his eyebags had definitely become more prominent against his pale skin.
“You’re good at chemistry, yes?”
“Uh…” He began picking at the skin around his nails “Yes…? Wait how would you even know tha-“
“Great.” The mans tone didn't display any enthusiasm “I need a demo man, you need a place to stay. This is very convenient if you ask me”
Demo man? Sure, Wylan knew his way around a chemistry lab and had the ability to craft bombs with expert precision but he’d never made any actual bombs outside a lab. Even then, he was just making flash bombs or fireworks.
“Excuse me? Look, this is a really generous offer but i dont even know your name. Im not just going to build bombs for you” Wylan scoffed, bringing his left hand to rub the nape of his neck.
“Brekker.”
“What?”
“My name. Kaz Brekker” He leaned over the counter “Look boy, think this offer over.” The look Kaz gave Wylan made him think the offer wasn't really optional.
“Okay… im just gonna…” Wylan gestured for the door and swiftly spun around.
Whilst awkwardly shuffling toward the door, he could feel the guy in the booths eyes on him. His breathing quickened as he dared to glance in his direction.
Yup. Staring right at him.
Wylan ducked his head and bolted out of the door just as the guy opened his mouth to speak.
The cold air snapped him out of his daze.
What am I doing here?
The market outside was loud, way louder than inside. Wylan wasn't too sure what day or time it was, but assumed it had to be the weekend due to the amount of people crowding the narrow streets.
Focus on one thing at a time.
Stroopwaffels.
“One stroopwaffel please.” Wylan said quietly when he reached the front of the line.
Unknowingly, he rapped his knuckles on the stalls' surface to a tune he had created a few weeks ago on the piano.
Tap-Tap. Tap-Tap-Tap.
Saints, he’ll miss playing the piano.
He was watching the caramel melt when he felt it. That feeling when you know you’re being watched. The prickle on the back of your neck.
Have they found me already? I knew I shouldn't have come outside.
He shouldn't look. He knew he shouldn't look, that would just draw more attention to himself.
He looked anyways.
Not Miggson. Not Prior.
Just a flashy smile, green trousers and a yellow waistcoat.
Wylan's eyes widened and he could feel the tips of his ears turning bright red. He quickly snapped his head down at the cobblestone floor.
Wait. I didn't smile back! I didnt even nod! I dont want him to think im rude and ungrateful-
He looked up again, but the guy was leaning against the doorframe and was, yet again, laughing at something inside like he’d already forgotten Wylan was there.
Shit. He definitely thinks I was ignoring him.
Wylan sighed and dropped his shoulders.
“Actually,” He placed down the last of his kruge. “Can i have another?”
If Wylan was going to make a fool out of himself, he would at least do it trying to be nice.
And maybe, if he was lucky, the man would still be there when he crossed the street.
You can do this.
Wylan was currently standing against a building, diagonal from the club with two fresh stroopwaffels in his hands.
The plan was simple. He would go up to the guy, give him one of the cones and apologize for being rude earlier.
Maybe, just maybe, they would introduce themselves. Wylan wouldn’t be awkward, and they could be friends. Just friends.
So why was he stressing?
The interaction would be out of the goodness of Wylan's heart because he doesn’t want to seem rude.
Not because he found the guy attractive and wanted an excuse to speak with him. No, definitely not.
With some newfound confidence, he casually strolled over to the guy, who turned around and waved at him before he got halfway there.
Wylan could feel himself heating up.
Nope, he thought, im not doing this.
His new plan was to keep his head low and retreat back to his room. He was not cut out for this.
Okay. Just walk past him. Just walk past him. Just wak past hi-
“Hey!”
Shit.
“Um hi.” Wylan squeaked, his voice coming out too small as he avoided eye-contact.
Did I come off passive aggressive?
The guy tilted his head and chuckled. “Are you alright kid? You look like you fell into a canal or something”
Wylan's eyes widened as he snapped his head up to meet the guys eyes, his response catching somewhere between his chest and throat. His face had definitely paled even more.
“Oh shit. Im so sorry i didnt think you actually fell into a can-“
“Here.” Wylan shoved the stroopwaffel forward before he could think.
“…Here?”
“Well you smiled at me earlier and i just stared back. I dont know why i did that… um..” He let out a sheepish laugh “I just want to say sorry i guess?”
The others boys expression softened as he cautiously took the cone, acting as if Wylan might bite. Then, he took a massive bite and crumbs went everywhere.
“Saints” He hummed in satisfaction “You’re way too kind for Ketterdam”
Wylan gave a weak smile in response, biting into his own stroopwaffel.
When was the last time he ate? It must've been well over two days.
“Im Jesper by the way, Jesper Fahey.” The boy, Jesper, said grinning. “And you are?”
Wylan opened his mouth.
Wylan Van Eck.
The name felt wrong, even in his head. It felt like countless days of pain and fear. It didn't feel like him.
He couldn’t say it. Not there, not to Jesper. He finally had a chance for a fresh start, he wasn’t going to throw that away.
“Wylan,” He stuck out his arm, a proper kerch greeting “Wylan Hendriks”
Jesper just grinned even wider and pulled him into a hug.
The only time Wylan had ever been like that before was with his ma. A hug that didn't feel obligatory or suffocating. Just warm.
“Well, Wylan Hendriks, it's a pleasure to meet you.”
Jesper said with a playful kerch accent. “Do you want to come inside, you look like you're about to freeze to death”
As they walked through the doorframe, Jesper nonchalantly swung his arm around Wylan's shoulder, pulling him close to his side.
The club had more people now, more noise, but for some reason, Wylan didn’t feel as intimidated, as alone.
“Jesper!”
“Nina!”
Jesper squeezed Wylan’s shoulders once before letting go. He already missed the fading warmth of the others’ gentle touch.
A girl dressed in all red, who Wylan assumed was Nina, waved both of them over to a booth. Well, she probably only waved over Jesper, but Wylan trailed after Jesper like a lost puppy and prayed he wasn't intruding.
“Wylan, Nina. Nina, Wylan.” Jesper exclaimed, doing mini jazz hands as he gestured in between the pair. “He fell into a canal and then bought me stroopwaffels!”
“I didn-“
“Relax Wylan. You’re friends with Jesper and Kaz, you're friends with me.” Nina said softly.
“Friends?” Wylan echoes.
Jesper bumped into his shoulders lightly, “Yeah, Kid.”
Jesper and Nina fell into an easy conversation while Wylan sat listening from the sidelines, giving one-worded answers whenever he was spoken to.
Occasionally, Jesper would nudge Wylan’s knee or find his hand under the table and turn to give him a reassuring smile.
The feel of Jesper’s calloused hands left a warmth in Wylan’s palms that lingered long after he had let go.
“Saints!” Nina groaned, standing.
She had just had a very heated debate with Jesper over which animal would be best in an apocalypse. Wylan found it very amusing, biting his lip to hold back laughter when Jesper started talking with a deadpan expression about how his pick would be a hamster.
“Im getting tea,” She turned to Wylan “Do you want anything? You look freezing”
“Oh no” Wylan stammered in response “Really, im not that cold and i wouldn’t want to be a bother at all”
“Honestly it’s no bother, I'll get you some hun.” She replied, waving a dismissing hand and turning to Jesper.
“I’ll have the same as Wy!”
Wy. The nickname was so simple but didn't fail to send his heart rate spiking and butterflies swooping through his stomach.
“Okay!” Nina smirked glancing over at Wylan and wiggling her eyebrows. “You boys have fun. i’ll be back in a sec!”
Wylan's face turned scarlet.
After a few minutes of silence, Jesper spoke.
“So…” He blurted out, sliding closer. “What brings you to The Barrel. I mean, no offence, but you don't look like the type to come here often”
“Uh…” Wylan dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, hoping Jesper would get the hint and drop the conversation.
“Not much of a talker are you? Thats okay, I can talk enough for the both of us! It drives Kaz crazy.”
Wylan replied with a nervous huff of laughter.
“Wait.. are you hiding from Stadwatch? You’ve got hiding energy. Did you steal something? Lose a bet?”
“No” He muttered, chewing at his bottom lip and avoiding eye-contact”
The sound of ceramic mugs hitting the table made Wylan jump.
“Woah, did i interrupt an interrogation or a date” Nina said, taking a sip of her drink and sliding two steaming mugs over to Wylan and Jesper.
Her eyes flickered between Jesper's wide grin and Wylan’s face which had gotten about three shades redder.
“Neither!” Jesper exclaimed, way too fast. He nudged Wylan’s cup over to him before picking up his own and taking a sip.
Wylan wrapped his hands around the mug, warmth spreading through them. It was a different kind of warmth to Jesper's touch, less comforting and more grounding.
“Thanks.” He whispered, giving Nina a warm smile.
The trio continued to drink their tea in a comfortable silence, the buzz of the club helping it feel less awkward.”
“So Wylan,” Jesper began again, “What’s your favourite thing about the Barrel so far?”
“Well…”
Talking with you. Talking with Nina. Feeling like I don’t have to hide who I am.
“Obviously the waffles!”
Nina’s face broke into a wide smile at that response, offering Wylan a high-five from the opposite end of the table.
“But also, I like that no one here is asking me to be somebody else? If that makes sense? Like… i can just be me and not a fake version of myself.”
Jespers slouched back into the booth even more. “That’s good, ‘cause I like this version of you.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “Saints Jes, that was terrible.”
As the two started to bicker, Wylan sat back and stared at the steam coming out of his mug. He then looked at Nina and Jesper, people he has only known for about an hour but feels closer with than anyone else.
He pulled the mug closer, a weak smile appearing on his face, and for the first time since his ma died, since he jumped of that boat, since he ended up in The Barrel, he didn’t want to run.
The next few weeks blurred together in the best way.
Wylan eventually stopped counting the days since he left his fathers house, stopped having nightmares about the boat and started getting into a routine.
Mornings in the club ,which he had learned was actually called the Crow Club and owned by Kaz, were relatively quiet.
Some days he spent them bonding with Nina and her boyfriend Matthias, who surprisingly had a lot in common with, as they worked at the counter, pouring drinks and wiping down tables.
Wylan was never a morning person, he hated waking up and having to relive another day. But they weren't as bad when he had something to look forward to.
Even if that was having to listen to Nina flirt with Matthias.
Other days, he would walk into the local market accompanied by Jesper and pick up art supplies, or they would stroll around the streets enjoying each other's company.
The market was overwhelmingly in all the best ways. Wylan never realised how little he had actually done in his fathers house until he arrived here.
Over time, Wylan found it very easy to confide in Jesper. He would always listen, no matter what time it was or what Wylan was talking about.
Whether it was Wylan rambling on about cyan morphos pollinating datura meloxias or Wylan having enough trust to come knocking on Jesper's door at night after a particularly bad nightmare, he would always be there.
One night as Wylan and Jesper were returning back to the Crow Club from a day out, he bumped into Inej.
She was extremely welcoming towards Wylan and never asked too many questions. Jesper referred to her as his unbiological sister and sometimes all Wylan could see were their differences, and how they acted like polar opposites.
But it was in small moments, when Wylan saw how they mirrored each other and copied each other's speech patterns where he could see just how similar they truly were.
Inej also seemed to have a soft spot for Kaz, which the others did not have, and Kaz the same. There was definitely some tension between them, Wylan observed, but they could understand each other better than anyone else.
He didn't talk to Kaz much, despite him always being around, but knew there would be a time when he asked for Wylan and his skills in chemistry. After all, he wasn't just staying for free.
That time was today.
Wylan was sitting crammed around a table with Jesper on one side, Inej on the other and Nina and Matthias were opposite.
The five of them were relaxing on a very uneventful Tuesday night, the Crow Club was completely empty as the pouring rain had kept most people inside.
It was nice, Wylan thought, being able to sit around a table and eat food without worrying about being impolite or too quiet.
After getting to know the crows (as they called themselves, and as Jesper called him, insisting he was one of them) Wylan had learned that everyone in The Barrel had their secrets.
Nobody questioned why Kaz used a cane. Nobody questioned Inej's past.
So nobody questioned why Wylan flinched when someone raised their voice or why he had nightmares.
Nobody questioned why he zoned out so much, especially when the topic of merchers or reading was brought up.
They didn’t push. But they did let Wylan know that they were there for him, if he ever wanted someone to talk to.
“Wylan.”
He snapped out of his daze, knowing who it was befoe looking up. He would recognise that gravelly voice anywhere.
Kaz.
“Oh hi Kaz”
“I need an extra set of hands on a job tomorrow. It’ll be quick, in and out.” His voice was low and sharp, but held no threatening tone.
“Tomorrow? I thought Pim was going with you guys tomorrow?”
“Change of plans. Can you make it or not.”
Wylan was suddenly aware that everyone at the table was looking at him, waiting for an answer.
Jesper sat up straighter. “Saints Wy! He picked you. He could’ve picked Raske but he picked you.” He gasped. “See! This proves you're a crow now!”
“I was invited on one job Jes, this dosent mean im a cro-“
Kaz tapped his cane on the floor impatiently. “Wylan.”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” He looked across the table and locked eyes with matthias
He gave Wylan a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great kid”
Wylan reciprocated the smile and reluctantly turned back to face Kaz.
“Okay… I will.”
Kaz nodded in acknowledgement, telling Wylan to dress in all black and to be be outside his office and midnight before heading back to his office upstairs.
For a full ten seconds nobody spoke.
Then the table exploded in excitement, congratulating Wylan, hyping him up and sharing stories about previous jobs.
Wylan reached for his mug, the hand bringing up to his mouth shaking.
It wasn’t fear that made him shake, not entirely.
It was the first time someone apart from Jesper had truly seen him for… well… himself. Kaz looked at Wylan and didn't see a liability. He didn’t see a moron who couldn't read.
He just saw Wylan.
And for once, the idea of someone seeing behind the defensive wall he built up wasn't so terrifying.
“Midnight.” He whispered to himself.
Jesper’s hand found his under the table. “I’ll be there the whole time as well, y'know”
Wylan let out a shaky laugh.
Midnight. A job with Kaz. Alongside Jesper and his friends.
Wylan leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hear the rain pounding into the window panes, feel the warmth of Jesper's body as it pressed against his side, smell the candle Nina had decided to light.
He opened his eyes and didn't see the same strangers he did a few weeks ago.
He saw his family.
Wylan was scared, but he wasn't running.
What am i doing here? he asked himself.
But for the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he was doing.