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Let’s just say, Scott really should’ve expected this.
While yes, after Nom lent him the coat for basically the rest of the winter, Scott was still pretty under-prepared to stay outside long-term, and he was supposed to stay inside the mage tower focusing on his magic. Unfortunately for him, he’d been unusually terrible at heeding advices properly and frequently went outside anyways. As much as he tries to deny it, being in the tower after everything had ended made him feel empty, this aching pit of loneliness in his stomach that he can’t ever shoo away. He yearned to be able to see everyone, to chatter on and hang around with people of this Kingdom or even the one just across from here. He missed everyone, and with this fog of war lifted from the kingdoms, he couldn’t help but flutter his way everywhere, like a little butterfly looking for flower in a storm.
It was expected that all this venturing outside would catch up to him, so when it finally did, Scott only let out a soft sigh and resigned himself to this fate.
First thing he woke up to was his head throbbing aggressively, like someone took a shield and repeatedly bashed it to the wall. He groaned, shifting over to cover himself further with the blanket as an uncomfortable chill ran through him. All the energy from the days before felt like they’d been zapped away from him, leaving him helpless and vulnerable to whatever ailment was attacking his system this time. He should just be glad it was not the plague again.
Nom wasn’t here with him today, having decided to sleep in his makeshift room at the blacksmith. He’d been off the forging duty for a little while, as Graecie so graciously berated him about working while recovering from the Creaking King business. Not to compare his knight to the Red Kingdom’s necromancy mage, but he’s heard mentions of Sausage also being yelled at by his people, constantly called an idiot for what he’d tried to do. It took a lot for Red Kingdom to convince Graecie not to kill Sausage, with another fight almost being started right then and there, but in the end, they’d all retreated back into rebuilding.
Part of Scott doubted that the kingdoms would cease fire completely so simply; it almost felt like a given that they were to fight again soon. Like the knights have said: if there were some magic words that could’ve been said to end this, they would’ve been said already. It was how the kingdoms have always worked since the day he’s heard of it, when he was but a small fellow. At the time, it was silly how the kingdoms always fought, and maybe now, it still felt ridiculous. Apart from the divide, they were all just people trying to live past another dawn. Just because those magic words haven’t been said, doesn’t mean it will never be. He hoped they could remember that as he does.
Coming back to reality, Nom being gone meant there was approximately no one there to report on his current miserable state, and that he was truly left alone to fight this by himself. He sighed; a carrier pigeon couldn’t fly fast or far in this harsh weather, and he’d hate having to subject the birds to such fate. Grimacing, he stumbled out of bed, still wrapped in his blanket he stubbornly refused to let go, grabbing his staff and trying to concentrate on what spells he currently had in his arsenal, already accepting the fate that he probably didn’t get any healing spells the night before.
And, just his luck, he was correct.
Scott shook his head. It was very much morning right now, and so he wouldn’t be able to change his spells out. Trying to locate El or Shan in this snowy weather felt like locating a pin in a pile of hay, and he was certainly not making it to Red to ask for the healer mage’s help. He wasn’t even certain in the chance that the other mages had healing spells on them at the moment, since no one seemed to have needed it in a while.
Guess he’d just have to settle for toughing it out himself without magic’s assistance then.
Scott huffed, returning to his bed and attempting to curl up further underneath the sheets. It was so impossibly cold, yet he felt like he was exhaling molten lava every time he breathed. Every attempt of a thought was like waddling through slime and honey, his eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by anvils, and getting up sounded like climbing two mountain tops. He could feel himself shivering aggressively against the mattress, and suddenly the need to warm himself up overpowered every other thought his brain conjured up. He was so cold.
Reaching over blindly, he managed to grab something soft and warm from the bedside, immediately clutching it and hugging it tightly before even seeing what it was. It felt nice, familiar but also not at the same time, radiating this kind of warmth that Scott just wanted to absorb into himself and never let it go. Slowly, he mustered enough strength to push his eyelids up and see just was he was cuddling so close to himself.
It was Nom’s coat.
Heat exploded throughout his face, and he was certain it was nothing to do with the fever this time. He tried to push the coat away from him, pathetically only getting it a few inches away from him, before reluctantly pulling it back. He held it close to himself, burying his face in the fabric and letting his eyes flutter close. Despite how embarrassing it felt, it was really nice, exactly the warmth he was looking for with just enough cold from being outside to cool his forehead.
He realizes, distantly, that he’d might do better with the piece of clothing wrapped around him instead of just smooshed against his face. And as much as he just wants to keep it where it is, the rest of his body is so cold, and he really needs to warm himself up more before he freezes into an ice cube. So, ever so slowly, he unfurled the fabric and located the sleeves, pushing his hand through one tubing and moving over to slide his other one through. He coughed, muffled by turning his face to the pillow, and felt his strength further leave his body. With shaky hands, he pulled the two sides together, numb fingers doing their best to pull the zipper up. Remembering the mittens hidden in the pockets, he slowly pulled them out and slid his hands into them
Scott sighed after succeeding, finally allowing himself to melt into the mattress and properly rest. Exhaustion was already pulling him under and he felt like he couldn’t even attempt to try getting anything done. He was utterly done for the day, very much too drained to stay awake for much longer, so he didn’t try to. His blurry eyes scans the room one last time, before he quietly yawns and sinks further into the comfort.
His ears wiggled as he heard something from below — a voice, maybe? — but he fell asleep before he could see who it was.
~<>~
Scott hadn’t turned up today.
Well yes, the man has free will and can do whatever he wants, yes he could just choose to not go outside and hang out inside his house, yes he is perfectly capable of managing his own without anyone looking after him, but Nom was concerned. It’s been a few weeks since the Creaking King incident, and he knew just how bad it scared the half-elf. Maybe some form of guilt or pride kept him from admitting when he’s nervous, but Nom knew that look in Scott’s emerald eyes, having peered in them many times before.
He wanted badly to make sure he was okay; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Scott was hurt by what he did.
In truth, Nom knew he was. What he did at that time was in a moment of weakness, of misjudgment and of discarding his own life in favor of others’. He knew it would affect the people he cared for, but to the Nom of back then, he was ready to die for them.
Turns out, living for people really was much more difficult than dying for them.
Scott has been having nightmares about it all. A lot of people have, in both kingdoms, apparently. Both sides almost lost one of their own to the chaos, and while it was expected to be casualties in war, everyone was too tightly-knit for them to just move on. They weren’t a knight and a mage lost in a battle, they were Nominalgravy of Blue Kingdom and Mythical J. Sausage of Red Kingdom, and still Nom doesn’t know how to reconcile that in his head. That he’s not just simply a number on a report now; he has a name and a heart and a place in a kingdom that should just be treating him like a weapon. Of course he didn’t think they were heartless, but in war, you had to just see everyone in a different light, one that didn’t show vulnerability or attachments, lest you pay for that mistake later on.
Apparently not now, at least.
Nom pulled out his armor and got suited up. It felt weird sleeping without it, considering he spends almost every waking hour in metal, but it was necessary. The others have made it very clear to him that he needs to take his rest as seriously as possible, as there was always the possibility of some hidden dormant part of the resin somehow activating and summoning back the deceased Creaking King. He had access to Sausage’s thoughts for a while, who’s to say the wretched thing hasn’t dabbled in his own necromancy?
Nevertheless, he really, really wanted to check up on Scott, seeing as the other possibly forgot about their little meet-up plans they’d talked about before. He wouldn’t blame the guy if he forgot, obviously, but Scott never forgot. If the sun fell tomorrow, he’d still probably remember. Graecie had mentioned having very clear memory of things many would say were lifetimes ago, so if anything, Nom would assume the same is mostly true with the half-elf. Scott wouldn’t forget about a meeting, he’s sure of it, which could only mean something’s preventing him
Besides, the mage has had many restless nights, noticeable from the bags under his eyes and whenever Nom came over to see for himself, but he also had a tendency to just sleep through the nightmare. Nom’d found it hard to sleep himself many a times, so it was no surprise to him that he’d end up spending hours just staring at the ceiling of Scott’s abode, so it unfortunately led him to hearing the other whimper in his sleep, suffering silently as he tried to muffle the sound, still somehow dead asleep. Every time he tried to listen in to his cries and pleas, he always managed to trace it back to that forsaken deal he so foolish indulged himself in previously. If Scott was sleeping through another nightmare again, one that dragged him down so much he couldn’t make it outside, Nom needed to be there and pay his penance.
Still, Nom couldn’t bear the thought that he caused this to Scott.
On his trek over, he realized how out of depth he was with this. If the mage was tormented by nightmares, he wouldn’t be able to do much to help fend them off. As a knight, he could stand in front of an army and wield his morning star, but he couldn’t fight something plaguing his mage’s mind. He could run into combat with an entity beyond anything ancient books describe and never cower once, and yet he’s completely useless in the fight between the half-elf and his demons. He could fight monsters over and over again, but he’ll never be able to stop a monster already in the cage.
So like with most people, he’ll just have to live with being the monster.
Nom steps up to the door, giving it a few knocks and calling out to the mage’s name. What was he even doing? He’d let himself in multiple times prior, what’s the difference now? Hell, he’d cuddled the other to bed just a few days ago, he shouldn’t be this nervous about it.
Opening the door, he called out the other’s name one more time, before spotting a particularly pathetic looking lump of blond hair on the bed just above him. Not thrashing, not shaking, not crying. Just sleeping peacefully, face relaxed and breathing steadily.
Ah, so he’s just sleeping in? That’s a relief. Seems Nom worried himself for nothing. He smiled, not wanting to disturb any tranquil rest the other would have lest he doesn’t get one soon, and started heading out through the door.
…On second thought, is Scott’s face redder than usual?
Nom paused in his internal celebration to move a little closer. The half-elf’s face was half under the blankets, hair falling all over and covering it, but Nom could tell he’s much more flushed than normal. Sweat covered his head and tiny, almost inaudible rasps of breathing could be heard from underneath the covers. Nom carefully made his way up the stairs, reaching up to rest the back of his hand against the other’s forehead and grimaced at the heat.
From the looks of it, Scott’s caught a particularly nasty bug.
That’s fine, Nom tells himself as he moves on instinct, locating a small towel and folding it into a rectangle before drenching it in water, he knows how to deal with this. When his and Katie’s parents left them as kids, Katie would often want to play in rain water and puddles on the streets. More times than not, that left her upsettingly ill the following days, and Nom had to do his best to care for her. As he wrings and twists the towel to get excess water out, he wonders if Katie noticed when he was sick too, stubbornly fighting it off so he could resume caring for her.
Carefully walking back towards the bed, Nom slowly climbed up the ladder again, slowly flipping the other over onto his back and gently moving hair strands out of the way, before pressing the cold cloth against his forehead. Instantly, he saw Scott relaxing, all the pent up unconscious panic seeming to leave him the second the cool towel touched his burning skin.
As he eased the other’s hands out of the death grip onto his blanket, Nom noticed the black fabric covering him. He knows for a fact Scott doesn’t own a single black shirt, as wild as that sounds, and he knows he definitely doesn’t have many clothes that are this certain texture. Nom lifted the blanket slightly, and he instantly knew what it was.
His coat, the one that he lent to Scott a few days ago and have likely seemed to forget to take it back home.
Nom felt his cheeks split into a little smile. He knew the other liked the coat, especially since it was extremely cold out, even for winter. He found out Scott hadn’t had many outfits suited for colder seasons, and Nom had made a note to go get some whenever he has the time to. Things have been getting in the way obviously, like near death, but Nom still wanted to get onto that after he made a full recovery. He still didn’t know what to do with the white in his hair, or his now glowing orange eyes for that matter.
It was likely this was going to stay forever.
He heard the mage groan, snapping his attention over to the sound. Scott’s eyelids were fluttering, possibly trying to push themselves upwards. Without thinking about it, he grabbed Scott’s hands, covered entirely by mittens, and rubbed circles onto them. Scott had done the same when Nom was spiraling, so he assumed it was to comfort him. This was just to return the favor, to reassure the half-elf he was okay, and that it was safe to continue resting.
Scott, however, decided to stubbornly wake up anyways. Glazed forest green eyes filtered around the room for a moment, doing a weak scan of his surroundings before his gaze landed on Nom himself. He smiled wider, hoping to bring just enough of a reassurance to the sickly mage, before moving his hand to the other’s cheeks.
“Hey, Scott.” He started, watching the way the half-elf seemed to focus a little more at his voice. “You’re sick?”
“Mhm.” Tiny noises of agreement came from him as he weakly tried to push himself upwards. Nom moved quicker though, gently easing him back down to the mattress before he could tire himself out from the effort. “Why’er you ‘ere?”
“You didn’t show up to the blacksmith. I thought something was wrong.” Nom answered simply. It was almost impossible to hide anything from him, so it was just better not to.
Scott shifted under the blanket, giving a weak nod at the answer then trying to shift his face away. Nom frowned. Did he resemble the Creaking too much? Did he scare Scott?
“You should leave soon, you’ll get sick near me.” He heard him mumble, turning his face to the pillow and weakly coughing into it.
As if that could ever keep Nom away from Scott. The half-elf could be carrying a thousand germs and the knight would hold him close with a smile on his face. He’d nurse every single one out of the other, just like he did with Katie. There was not a dimension in the multiverse that could keep Nom from chasing the ones he loved; hell the threats of death did not manage to separate him from them all. He just wouldn’t let it happen.
If there’s anything he had, it was strength and will.
“Someone has to be there to take care of you, Scott. You yourself told me that.”
“But…” Any excuse the other had died in his throat as Nom helped him sit up to drink water. As much as he liked listening to Scott talk, he wasn’t letting the other go down this thought spiral. He wouldn’t let Scott think of himself as anything less than a treasure to this world. Even if it takes a million times like this, he’d do it. Scott deserved to know how much he was valued and cherished among the kingdoms. Scott deserved to know how much he meant to Nom.
“I haven’t seen any supplies lying around here, I’m assuming you haven’t made breakfast yet?” Nom asked, just as the other finished the water. “I could head down and get some soup going if you want.”
Scott seemed to think about it for a bit, before his hand gripped Nom’s. “Soup sounds lovely,” his voice rang out, sweet and soft as ever, if only a bit gravelly from illness, “but I don’t want you to go.”
Nom blinked. Oh well how the turns tabled, haven’t they. He was now the one being pulled back in and denied any kind of letting go. And honestly, he couldn’t ask for any better. He still didn’t know how he of all people managed to get Scott Springwell to like him, but if it all were a dream the Knight God punished him with for his crimes, he wouldn’t want to wake up.
Many times has he thought him waking up after the Creaking King’s demise was him arriving to heaven — if somehow he managed to get into heaven — or worse, that this was a dreamscape the Creaking King made up for him so he wouldn’t try leaving. He’d had many episodes of doubt, questioning whether or not anything is even real in the first place. He didn’t trust anyone, often times lashing out or thrashing, trying to yell at a Creaking King that didn’t exist. It all felt too good to be reality, so he kept himself guarded and aware. If even a single thing felt out of place, he was clocking that it was an illusion and breaking out immediately. He didn’t want a fake paradise where everything is beautiful. Not if it comes at the expense of his family.
But the more he stayed, the more everything felt… real. Yes the Creaking King could peer into the others’ thoughts and recall things it never experienced itself, but the people were never him. Everyone had their own traits; little things a perfect world could never master. A flawless utopia couldn’t stretch out this far, and he’d sailed with everyone he cared about for a brief few days. The world the Creaking King might’ve created couldn’t encapsulate the wrongs and flaws of people, like scuffles breaking out on the seas, or citizens screaming at one another in the markets. Even if all of it was upsetting to see, it was the necessary strife of the universe. No happy fairytale could tell you that sometimes, bad things simply happen because it was just going to. That — beyond all things -- told him that this was reality.
Which, somehow, made his situation back home even more surreal.
Intertwining his hand with Scott’s now, he felt himself relax a little. The other seemed to ease up too, sinking back into the bed as he started drifting back to sleep, this time smiling a little. Nom felt his heart warm up at the thought that he was the one who made Scott smile.
Before the mage fully nodded off, he blinked wearily at Nom.
“Stay?” He mumbled, scooting over to softly pat the side next to him.
Nom couldn’t help but grin, finally feeling himself return after all that sentimental nonsense, moving to lay down beside the awaiting half-elf. “Anything you want”
Today was a good day, Nom thought. He couldn’t help but think tomorrow would be better.