#smart move

At least Perpetua's voice comes out somewhat steady. He thinks. Dew raises an unimpressed eyebrow, but it looks more weary than anything. With the joint now dangling from his lips, it makes for an image Perpetua expects to see as a meme in TikTok comments.

"Mmh. Want a drag ?"

Perpetua blinks slowly, looking around, half expecting to spot the others ghoul hidding, ready to spring up and announce this is some kind of prank. Dew is quite posessive of everything he considers his with people outside of the pack, and has never willingly lended or offered anything to Perpetua before. With a huff, the fire ghoul waves the joint in the vague direction of the confused frontman.

"Hello ? A drag ? Do you want one ? You look like you need one."

Perpetua knows on instinct the way he stares at Dew would make anyone else recoil in discomfort. Too intense, too unblinking, an unatural reflection in his eyes when the light hit them right. But Dew is a ghoul, hellborn, and he knows all about occult things hidding behind human faces, so he doesn't flinch. Perpetua sighs.

"I do not know how my body will react to it now that I'm...you know."

"Undead ? If it's anything like us, you'll just need a bit more to get a buzz."

Perpetua goes to sit across from Dew, keeping a wary distance between them. He links his fingers in front of himself to fight the urge to feel for the dissection scars through his plain black clothes. He feels naked without either paint nor mask, under the piercing scrunity of hellish eyes.

"That is the point, I am not like you ghouls. Neither am I exactly like Cop- Frater. I truly have no idea if I still can get high."

Dew shrugs then, lighting the joint without touching it and inhaling deeply.

"Well, only one way to find out now, right ?" he hums in a rush of sweet-smelling smoke. Uh. Mountain's stuff then. Well, Perpetua might be on his way to meet his creator - again - but he extends a hand toward Dew.

The fire ghoul was half right ; it does take a while before Perpetua starts feeling anything at all, but less than it would have for a ghoul. But when it finally kicks in, it does with a splendid sense of weightlessness that has Perpetua sighing in relief. All the tension bleeds out of him, the frenzied rush of his thoughts too mudled to bother him anymore.

Elbows braced on the table behind him, Perpetua let himself enjoy the moment. The air is chilly, but there is no wind, and the sun bleeds warm light over his face. His eyes flutter shut without him truly realizing it.

"Pretty fuckin' good, uh ?"

Dew's scratchy voice nearly startles Perpetua. When he turns to look at him, the fire ghoul is swinging his legs, looking like a content cat. Some of his true form is shinning through the glamor ; in between blinks, his eyes sparkle with an amber glow. With the way light is hitting his hair, it looks like he has a halo ; the irony of such an illusion is not lost on Perpetua. Dew arches an eyebrow, clearly still expecting an answer, which only makes his features look sharper.

"Fucking hell," Perpetua groans, adverting his eyes. Dew being beautiful is not something he ever was unaware of, but it has never hit him as hard as in this moment. Something twinges in his chest. Suddenly, he is panifully conscious of his face, his body, the places where it's wrong, where he wishes he was more, where he wishes he was less. The scars pulling at his skin seem to burn like they were fresh again. A lump forms in his throat. He wants to crawl out of his skin, tear the flesh off his own bones.

If only Satan had granted him the effortless grace that was bestowed upon Dew, the ease with which the fire ghoul moves and takes up the space around him.

If only Satan had made him beautiful.

If only Satan had let him stay dead.

A warm touch on the back of his neck makes Perpetua jump. There Dew is, scruffing him like he always does with Phantom after a good show, eyebrows knotted together. Perpetua wishes what he saw in the fire ghoul eyes was concern, and not his rampant imagination.

"Where did you go, mmh ?"

Lying would take too much strenght, and Perpetua is still very much high, so he settles for an avoidant truth.

"Jus' thinkin'"

To the frontman's surprise, Dew huffs in a way that sounds...fond. Begrudgingly affectionate.

"You and your broth- Copia, I swear. Always gettin' stuck up there."

To drive his point home, the fire ghoul gently flicks Perpetua's forehead, then shakes him by the neck like he's a pup in need of comfort.

"Wouldn' have made you smoke 'f I knew you'd get all mopey 'bout it."

"M'not mopey," Perpetua grumbles, though it's highly unconvincing, what with the way he's pouting. Dew makes a noise that sounds like the non-verbal version of "sure, whatever you say", then glances at the tour bus.

"We should probably get goin', think the tanks are full."

"Mmh, five more minutes," Perpetua protests, his head having lolled on Dew's shoulder. He's very confortable there. He doesn't want to move ; actually, he's not even sure he still knows how to move. Dew snorts, patting his shoulder.

"C'mon, they're startin' the engines."

"What're they gon' do, leave without the singer and lead guitarist ?" Perpetua huffs petulantly.

He's not expecting Dew to shake him off and get up. Neither is he expecting the fire ghoul to grab him before he can tip over, to lift him in his wiry arms as if he weighted nothing, and carry him toward the tour bus. But to be honest, Perpetua is not complaining in the slightest.

"Big fuckin' baby," Dew grunts as he manoeuvres the both of them up the narrow stairs toward the lounge. The severity he's trying to inject into his voice is ruined by the soft purr rumbling underneath.

"Special delivery !" he hoots as he drops Perpetua on the couch, forcing the ghouls to scoot to make sure no tails are squished in the process. Perpetua expects Dew to leave him to the care of the rest of the pack, having done his good deed of the day, but the fire ghoul plops down next to him and fusses until Perpetua can comfortably lean onto him, his head back on the ghoul's shoulder.

The second he's settled, Perpetua feels Dew starting to card through his hair, untangling knots and brushing through locks with careful fingers. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Phantom and Aurora share an incredulous look, as Cirrus grins, looking like the cat who got the cream. Haze ends up breaking the silence.

"Are you...grooming him ?"

"Fuck off," Dew grunts with no heat, "he was sad. Stuck in his head."

Mountain chuckles, the sound low and warm. His eyes twinkle when he turns to Perpetua.

"That's how ghouls soothe their kits."

Distantly, Perpetua is aware he should find this embarrassing, but it feels too good to simply be taken care of. He's still a bit surprised that it comes from Dew of all people, but really he's not about to nitpick right now. Storm hums quietly.

"Well, he does have the eyes."

Rain leans forward, head tilted in confusion.

"The eyes ?"

"Of a lost pup," Storm clarifies, crossing his hands on his belly. After a second of consideration, Cirrus nods in assent.

"Yeah, I see it."

"Big and sad," Aurora confirms, almost cooing.

"Hey, 'm still here," Perpetua protests weakly, eyelids heavier by the minute. He wants to curl in a tight little ball and stay in this moment forever.

"You saps," Dew snorts, ignoring Perpetua, even though he does not stop his ministrations. Phantom scoffs, pointing an accusing finger at the fire ghoul.

"You're the one who started babying him."

"That's because Dew is the biggest sap of them all," Mountain snickers. Perpetua can't see it, but he's pretty sure Dew flips him off. Haze scoots closer, tucking herself on Perpetua's other side, and presses a hand between his shoulderblades. A tingling sensation starts from the point of contact, spreading in his whole body. Keeping his eyes open becomes impossible.

Sleep, Perpetua hears in a corner of his brain, we will guard you.