and/or 34. "it's not like I missed you or anything" + fabian/gorgug
"Oh, thank the gods," Fabian says. He tightens his grip on Gorgug even further, pulls them both under the shelter of a nearby tree. There's a strangled squeak in response as Gorgug comes along. "Thank you to any gods who are listening. I swear I'll take a cleric level after this. Fuck, Gorgug. This is really you, right? You're not a nightmare, right? I'm not hallucinating you too?"
"Um," Gorgug says slowly. His voice sounds ragged, like he's been running, or perhaps crying. Maybe both. "I think I'm real. I was real last I checked, so do with that what you will."
Somehow, it's the perfect answer. Fabian laughs hysterically, and presses his forehead against the zipper of Gorgug's jacket. The other boy pats him gingerly on the back. Around them, the Forest of the Nightmare King is one giant echo, an endless terrible soft rustle of shadow and tree. Prying eyes are probably watching. For the first time in hours, or maybe days, it doesn't fucking matter.
Gorgug is warm. Warm, and solid, and real, and he presses his forehead to Fabian's as they stand under the tree, and refuses to pull away. Not that Fabian was going to pull away. He's shaking now; his chest feels horribly hot, like someone stuffed live coals into it and closed the furnace door. Gods, this place is the worst. All of this is the fucking worst. But at least he's not alone any more. That has to count for something, right?
"You're real too," Gorgug says. Slowly, like he's coming up from a long time underwater, trying to convince himself that the statement is an honest one.
Then, quieter, so softly that Fabian has to strain to hear him: "I thought I was - I thought I was going to - "
"Yeah," Fabian says. "Yeah, no, same. I know, Gorgug. I know."
He does. He really, really does.
They should keep going, probably. The others are out here somewhere. He'd almost forgotten. The fear had hit such a fever pitch that it had been impossible to remember who he was, why he was here, where he was headed.
A real pirate is never afraid! he hears in the back of his head. The voice sounds awfully like Bill Seacaster. Automatically he smiles, then throws up a respectful middle finger in the general direction of Hell, and of his father.
I'm very afraid, Papa. But I'm here anyway, so fuck that!
"Uh," Gorgug says. "Did I do something? Fabian? What was that?"
Oh. Perhaps Fabian didn't consider the implications of the middle finger without the internal monologue for context. He smirks, though there's no weight or meanness to it. He doesn't have the energy to conjure that right now, not with all the bravado in the world. "Wasn't for you."
"Good," Gorgug says. Then, almost jokingly: "Felt like the first day of freshman year again, for a second."
"Oh, when I punched you and started a fight?"
"Yes, when you punched me and started a fight." Gorgug taps the top of Fabian's head, scoldingly. He really is just so damn tall these days. Fabian can barely keep up. "Have you forgotten everything already? We've only been in here for half a day."
Half a day? It feels like an eternity.
"Feels more like five minutes," Fabian says, and cracks a grin. "It's not like I missed you, or anything. Don't worry."
"Uh huh," Gorgug says. Their foreheads are still touching. They're still holding onto each other, and Fabian isn't going to pull away first, not for any quest or god or king or world-ending plot. "Don't worry. I didn't miss you either."
