CHAPTER 2: I WANT YOU TO STAY

– POV: LYRE –

(ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)

(ADAPTATION: VEN)

“– Ah, but what could you do, right? That was that. Guess you could say it was, like," Lyre listens as Casper snaps his fingers, once, twice, seemingly trying to find the right phrasing. "Rock and a bad place. Or – or something.”

They’ve been talking all night – Casper and Lyre, the two of them. Or more accurately, Casper has been talking all night. Lyre has mostly just been listening, the idle rambling fighting back his growing exhaustion.

“But it's like –” Casper vaguely gestures around, leaning back like he's reclining on the air itself. “Actually – nah. It doesn't matter.” Lyre tilts his head, smiling faintly. He’s about to reply when he notices something.

Light is beginning to seep in through the (glassless) windows of the cabin. Morning has risen, oh. His ears flick up. How long has it been? He’d been so enamored by Casper’s rambles that he hadn’t noticed until now. It’s at that very moment that the exhaustion hits Lyre like a truck.

“Mm – it’s morning,” the voidfolk hybrid says quietly, looking back at Casper, almost feeling guilty. However, he then finds himself smiling faintly. “Worth it, though.”

… Why’d he say that? As Casper blinks and glances towards the window, Lyre just about almost slaps a hand over his own mouth. Maybe he should just never speak again. Maybe – maybe it’s the tiredness? The exhaustion, making him – say things.

“Shit. Really?” Casper says, abruptly leaning forward like one would out of a chair. “Fuuuuuuck,” the ghost drawls, with what must be a touch of embarrassment to the word. Not that Lyre fully processes … all of that.

No, Lyre instead goes on to fumble more.

“I mean. Talking to you was nice.” Not any better than what you said before! “You’re … a good storyteller?” Ugh. Good enough. He wants to sink into the ground and disappear, especially as Casper looks at him again.

“I’m so sorry for – keeping you up … ?” It seems to take Casper a moment to process Lyre’s words, and when he does, he just kind of stares for a few moments. Then he pulls at his collar (oh no, Lyre must have made this awkward), like it’s suddenly too tight. “Th – thank you? I, I, I just. Say shit.”

At this, Lyre immediately waves a hand dismissively, tiredly shaking his head in a motion of silent denial.

“Keeping me up? What, noooo,” he says, exhausted but completely genuine. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it, it was nice.” AUGH. “... Good conversation.” Nice save … NOT. Lyre resists the urge to scrunch up. Maybe curl up in a hole.

Casper chuckles quietly in what’s definitely amusement. Lyre wants to curl up in a hole even more now. He sighs, and then continues on with his train of thought, hoping to salvage the conversation.

“... It's just nice to – talk to someone. After a year of, of, not. And, well, back in the Empire people didn't really talk to me, talk to me, so, you know ... this is – this is … different.” Lyre smiles, faintly, hoping that will help, somehow.

There is a palpable beat of silence as Casper stares at him.

Oh no, he thinks for a flash of a moment, face paling considerably. I – I just revealed – he’s going to hate me. I’m from the Empire, he’s not, he’s from No Man’s Land, he’s going to hate me, he’s going to hate me he’s going to turn me in –

“... O – oh!” Casper says after that silence is over. His tone isn’t angry, though. If anything, he sounds … Well, he starts to sound sympathetic rather quickly. “Oh, I see! Well I’m terribly sorry. Why’s that? You seem like such a sweet guy.”

You seem like such a sweet guy.

Oh, Limbo below, Lyre cannot take this. The color is quickly returning to his cheeks, even a touch darker, face warmer, at that comment. Oh, this is an irregular way to be speaking to someone you just met, for sure. But Lyre doesn’t really notice.

“Uhm – uh –” He stutters for a moment, and then, ducking his head slightly, squeaks out a – “Thank … you … “

Casper’s reply comes after another momentary silence, but it’s without missing a beat in the process.

"Oh, of course," The ghost shifts into a more regular looking seating position, leaning forward just a touch. Cheek resting on one of his hands. "Though I suppose I happen to be biased – I did appreciate your hospitality, very much."

Now Lyre’s face gets even darker pink. He feels his cheeks warm and he -- he doesn't really know what this feeling is. What is this? What is this? He's never experienced it, he doesn't know. Is he sick? What's happening? He ...

It. It doesn't feel bad.

"Th – thank you," He manages after a few moments. "Again! I'm – I'm glad I could ... help you out." Lyre smiles. It's a bit strained. But not in the bad way. More like the ... mild panic way. The on the verge of a small freakout way.

Casper tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. But where Lyre might have expected discomfort … It's a playful expression. Huh?

"... Yes, I really needed it, at the time," He begins. "You really didn't have to go through so much trouble," Casper shifts into a 'standing' position – only a mockery of the gesture, seeing as he can’t touch the ground.

Lyre watches as Casper floats over – stopping just a little ways before him and 'crouching down' to his eye level. "You alright, though, lad? You look very sleepy." His eyes narrow, slightly. "And you're still in that dress shirt... can't be comfortable."

Well. Lyre could feel his eyes get all wide and round when Casper got so much closer. He’s sure that the ghost could see right into the depths of his soul through them, at this point.

His face feels like it’s overheating.

“It was – It was the least I could do,” Lyre stutters. He fidgets with his hands, looking away, breaking eye contact. “And, I’m – I’m alright! I – I just don't have … many clothes,” He admits in a murmur.

Lyre spots Casper’s light, sympathetic frown out of the corner of his eye – and feels a crashing wave of guilt. But he continues.

“So I kinda ... reuse them. I didn't have much time to pack before I ran from -- where I, was before.” He ducks his head again. “I had to leave almost everything behind.” Almost everything.

Lyre’s gaze trails idly to his sword, which he’d hung up on the wall. Even from here, it’s more visible in the light of day – its enchanted sheen glittering in the sunlight. Sometimes he wonders if it was smart to keep it.

But he needs some way to defend himself, right?

“... I see,” Casper says suddenly, breaking the silence with a hum. “I’m sorry, that sounds rather difficult.” As Lyre looks back to him, his frown deepens slightly and he clicks his tongue.

“You have a bed, at least, right? You don’t wanna, like … lay down?” Oh, Lyre feels his heart sink at this question. “At least?” Casper sounds concerned. Well, it’s about to get worse.

“No,” Lyre says, miserably. “Just the pillows, and a blanket.” He settles down into the pillows a little more. It's better than nothing, but God, he misses having a proper bed. Unfortunately, mattresses are rather hard to steal inconspicuously.

“I might lie down, though,” Lyre finds himself laughing quietly, uneasily, rubbing at his sore eyes. He’s so exhausted…

Casper blinks at him. Lyre feels shame.

“Ah – hmm …” Casper’s lips press into a tight line as he visibly thinks. “Maybe you should look into that … ? I mean, you’re very handy, aren’t you?” Lyre wants to wilt and perhaps rot into the dirt at that moment. “I assume it’s easier said than done, though.”

Now Lyre grimaces. Time for the ugly truth.

“There’s no way for me to get the materials for the mattress,” He says pathetically. “Otherwise I would’ve made one by now, for sure.” Lyre sighs heavily, shaking his head and frowning to himself.

“I – I can’t just get away with taking a mattress from somewhere, either. They’re too big.” He wrings his hands together.

There’s a long silence. Where Lyre wishes he had more to say, where he wishes he could’ve been better to Casper, maybe, been a better host, where he wishes – well, a lot of things, really. He gets so caught up in his own racing thoughts that he almost doesn’t hear it when Casper blurts out –

“I wish I could help you.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

What?

Lyre’s ears flick up – quick – and he sits up just as fast. He looks to Casper with worry and concern and – well. He doesn’t want Casper to …

“You don’t have – to feel bad,” He murmurs, wringing his hands – fidgeting. His tail-tip flicks up and down in a metronome. “It’s … my living situation, not – not yours.” As if he hadn’t been concerned for Casper for the same reasons, before. Lyre ignores that.

Casper frowns at him.

“Ah – but you helped me, didn’t you?” He points out, and Lyre hates that he’s right. “I, I dunno. Call it me wanting to repay the favor, I guess.” The ghost shrugs, and then quickly adds: “Not – not to imply that you aren't perfectly capable, of course. I just – …”

The words hang in the air for a moment, as Lyre considers them, really lets them sink into his head. And then he sighs and deflates, rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand to try and ease his nerves.

“I guess,” He says quietly. “That makes sense. I'd want to repay the favor, too,” He says, and his tail curls around himself. Absent-mindedly, he starts fidgeting with the long fur that grows from the fuzzy appendage. The fluffiness sometimes helps ease his mind.

In the silence that follows, he finds himself thinking. Casper doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither does Lyre, and they’re kind of stuck there, for a long few moments.

And then Lyre has a realization.

“... How long are you going to stay? Here,” He asks, suddenly. “I’m not – I’m not rushing you out the door, I’m just – I’m just curious, is all.”

This is a question he immediately regrets, as Casper practically visibly bristles at the inquiry not even seconds after its completion.

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry if I overstayed my welcome. I – I could leave now, if you prefer … ?” As the ghost says that, he ‘stands’ back up. Lyre, himself, jumps to his feet, feeling his eyes widen.

"No – no no no no!" He says, waving his hands in a panicked motion. "You didn't! I – I –" He swallows. You what? Say it, maybe it will help. Lyre breathes in. He breathes out. Then, he says –

"I – I want you to stay." God. "I really liked talking to you and –" His ears droop. No, he's ruined this, hasn't he? Casper is going to hate him now. "– I dunno, I just think you're cool."

Casper looks at him with eyes just as wide. Unblinking, shocked – blinding white, almost, almost unreadable. But then he speaks.

“You – You, you want me to stay?”

There’s a pause, as the ghost breathes in. Lyre is holding his own breath, feeling his anxiety rise rapidly in his chest with each passing moment.

“You do?” Casper’s voice sounds almost, almost, distantly … soft.

Okay. This is not the end of the world. It’s not. Lyre – relaxes, a little, and takes a hesitant step forward. And then another, and another, and he’s getting so close, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, really.

“I – I do! Really, I –” As he gets closer, he reaches out hesitantly, as though to place a hand gently on Casper's shoulder – it passes through, though, like mist: you know it's there, you can feel it, you just can't hold it, grasp it.

“Oh, er – !” Casper exclaims, and Lyre recoils instantly, as though he’d been struck, with a sharp inhale. What was he thinking, doing that?

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I –” Lyre feels his face heat up again. Casper just kind of looks at him, expression unreadable. “– Yes. I do want you to stay. At least – at least for a while, if you’re okay with it.” It’s genuine. So genuine, maybe the most genuine he’s been in years.

Momentary silence. Anxiety builds again.

“... I’m fine with that,” Casper says, quietly. Lyre looks up sharply from where he was staring at the floor guiltily, feeling his eyes widen again. “If that’s what you want.”

Limbo below. Okay. Lyre feels himself relax, letting out a long, long breath. Okay. Everything is going to be fine.

“... Thank you. I – appreciate it. A lot,” He mumbles that last part, fidgeting with his hands. It is what I want, he doesn't say, because he doesn't need to dig his hole any deeper than he has already.

It dawns on him how tired he is, though, as Casper continues to stare at him almost owlishly with those white eyes of his.

“I should probably get some sleep, soon, though,” Lyre admits, rubbing at those slightly-aching eyes of his. God, he’s tired.

It’s about then that Casper suddenly reaches out and mimes a ‘pat’ of his shoulder. Once, twice. Lyre jolts, and looks to Casper again, who is staring at him directly in the eyes.

“That sounds good,” Casper says with a smile. “Ah, actually – have you had anything to eat, recently … ?” The ghost tilts his head as the words begin to blur into static in Lyre’s brain as the eye contact is held. “Perchance?”

Lyre’s head is buzzing, thoughts racing: You can’t be looking at me like that you can’t be looking at me like that you want to hurt me you want to kill me you’re out to get me you’re a threat I should fight you I should –

He breaks eye contact first, looking away sharply.

Casper seems to realize what happened moments later – voidfolk tendencies are somewhat common knowledge these days – with an utterance of what’s definitely a curse, but definitely not English. Lyre no longer feels his gaze on him.

“... No, I haven't. I, uh, haven't eaten, since –” Lyre’s stomach rumbles. He winces, holding a hand to his gut. Embarrassing, but a good distraction. “– Uh … yesterday …” He grimaces.

Clearing his throat, Casper speaks again.

“A – ah, you probably should, then,” He says, still looking down towards the floor. “I can speak from – well, not experience. But from memory? You’re gonna feel like shit.” Now the ghost looks back up, and Lyre notes his caution to avoid eye contact.

Something on his back itches. Lyre ignores it.

“Yeah, I should get something to eat. But, I, uh. Don’t have a fridge … or any kitchen appliances really. I cook – using the fire.” He laughs quietly, nervously. “So I’d have to hunt or – or forage, or something.” Now, Lyre sighs. “That’s why I don’t eat as often as I should.”

As he talks, Lyre makes his way back over to the pillows and sits back down, tail curling neatly around himself. Casper watches, looking somewhat thoughtful. Or at least, Lyre thinks it’s thoughtfulness – it’s hard to tell.

“Awe, well,” Casper says, his lips pressing into a tight frown, “I’d say you should, er. Do that now? But you look very tired.” He wrings his hands, and Lyre can’t tell if it’s uneasiness or something else.

“So – So you should sleep soon, yeah?” The ghost’s words linger for a moment before he adds: “But don’t let me tell you what to do.”

Fortunately for Casper, Lyre is extremely exhausted and knows that he should be sleeping. Definitely, absolutely. He wants to be absolutely 100% asleep right now.

“I am tired,” He murmurs. “I can probably sleep. For a bit.” Sinking into the pillows, he twists to look at Casper. Staring into his eyes, for just a moment, as he asks:

“You’ll stay, right?”

Double, triple-checking, afraid on some unreasonable level that Casper will just up and leave while he’s asleep. That somehow, if he looks away, the ghost will do as ghosts do and disappear. Because Casper might hate him, after all of that, right?

“I just want to make sure,” Lyre adds, as Casper stares at him.

Then, Casper crouches down. Well, more like – sits. Looking directly at Lyre, though not quite in the eyes this time. Caution is clearly being exerted.

“I won’t leave,” He says quietly. “I’m – I wouldn’t do that, to you.” A beat of silence passes. “Because – because of what you’ve done for me, especially. I’m not … I’m not …” Casper breathes in.

“I’ll stay.”

The words stick in Lyre’s head, sickly sweet and painfully reassuring. He’s letting a stranger practically coddle him, but you know what? He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t care.

I wouldn’t do that to you.

“Okay,” Lyre says. “Thank you.”

He reaches out for his blanket and tugs it up and over himself, curling a little tighter amidst the blankets. It takes a bit of grappling to finally get settled, with Casper looking on all the while, but he manages.

“Goodnight,” Lyre murmurs, even though it’s morning.

As the light begins to fade, as Lyre’s eyes close, the last thing he sees is Casper’s face, and the last thing he hears is an echo –

“Goodnight.”