Things I Wrote at One Time or Another

The Arcana; "and inbetween we garden," pt. ii

A/N; part two from my amino

Some context before this chapter begins because I have not been inspired yet to write what had happened previously so here are some cliffnotes:
- Asra left to visit family in Zadith for about a year, this was a while after Issa's disappearance and immediately after a falling out between him and Luca.
- Upon returning, Asra confessed his love to Luca. Confused and surprised, Luca couldn't give him a definitive answer because he was convinced Asra had lost interest in him. He instead asked if they could start again as friends for a while, just so he can understand his own feelings.
- Asra promised to respect whatever decision he ended up making and that he'd do what he can for Luca-- as long as he understood that his feelings towards him wouldn't change.
- There's more but I'll get to it when it counts.
*oop very important: this is pre-everything. Asra and Luca are both 17, Muriel is 24?

☀︎︎

The note was slipped under their doorway at some ungodly hour for Asra had found it the moment he awoke. The sun had streamed in and stirred him, cutting through the dark hut, like white cream in freshly brewed coffee. Muriel was still fast asleep on his cot, hunched on the other side of the room beside Inanna. The older man looked like a boulder in that black pelt of his, the only sign of life being the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Asra had gotten up to relieve himself outside since Muriel was still in the process of building an outhouse. Faust remained curled up on his cot, her tail twitching slightly as he left it empty.

It was only when he returned did he notice it, it had floated out onto the dirt path when he walked out. He plucked it up from where it lay, noticing the signature scribble of the sun on the back of it. His heart raced with excitement, thinking of his freckled friend and his hasty handwriting. He unfolded the little note, smiling at the sight of inconsistent shapes and poor attempts at cursive.

Good morning, Forest-dwellers!

Please, if you both have nothing urgent today, come by the old man's cottage. Preferably early in the morning.

Sincerely, your friend and happy lark*
Luca

Paired with his cheery introduction and reference to old childish tales, Asra found the note a bit concerning. For the past month, since he's returned, Luca's been doing his best to reconcile with him. He's been swinging between brooding moods and awkward attempts to appeal to Asra, as if he was lacking in a way. It made Asra wonder if his confession had been too much, he could've waited a while. He could've given them both some time to consider each other properly. For him, the distance was nothing but a pause, time stood still in Vesuvia in Asra's eyes and when he came back he only wanted to pick up where he left off. But Luca had changed: he had grown his hair out long, hid in his thoughts, doubted everything. Asra realized he had been naive. His friend wasn't waiting for him: the one who said whatever silly thing happened to cross his mind, who's stupid grin was the brightest thing he's ever seen, who clung to him like a twin and considered him as such. But he was trying, it was clear, to fill in that space on his end.

But what was he doing at Issa's old cottage? It took a whole week after Issa's disappearance before Alma managed to tear Luca's tiny body from that empty house, and she's been strict with him ever since. His hands had shaken and clawed through dirt and wood, his cries still clear as day. When she had taken him home he wouldn't eat. He hadn't slept the whole time in that dark and empty home, he wouldn't let himself rest until his father was returned to him. If the Count had walked through that door he would've torn him to pieces with his own hands. He bit a guard when they came to collect and loot, Alma had to practically beg for them to let him go. He was just a kid. Asra had watched it all.