Who: Dayton and Hemlock When: Mid-Marchish What: Hemlock has HAD IT with the brooding Where: Dayton's Warnings: Talk of trying to shoot your bestie.
Hemlock tried to be kind. He really did.
It had been obvious from the moment Dayton had reunited with him later in the night that something was the matter. Dayton was being broody. He certainly had a face that suited a stormy pout—something Hemlock was sure he’d said to his witch in the past—but it was another thing to be stuck near the moping. Still, Hemlock hadn’t said anything. He’d simply made it clear he was around if Dayton wanted to talk about anything, looking open and available right until the moment he’d drifted off to sleep drooling all over Dayton’s pillow.
But the brooding didn’t stop. Even in sleep, Dayton still sighed heavily and rolled with dramatic movements. Hemlock had woken several times to stare at his witch, muttering under his breath about witches and being sensitive while he waited for Dayton to settle peacefully again.
When he woke in the morning it was at the opposite end of the bed he’d started on, having scooted and rolled and twisted away from Dayton sometime in the early hours to end up at eye level with his feet. Hemlock pushed himself to a sit and blinked blearily around the trailer. Sleep was always hard to shake for a creature made from a tree.
A huff from the witch at his side managed to draw his attention and fill him with irritation all at once. He shook one of Dayton’s shoulders with a scowl. “What is wrong with you?”
The bed shimmied. Dayton offered a grunt and sat up only long enough to capture a fist full of wandering blankets to pull up and over himself. He was used to cold sleeps; a certain someone like to hijack the blankets and he’d put up with it since he could remember. But right then he wasn’t up for conversion. Instead he chose an oven of quilted fabric to brood into. “Nothing.” It delivered sharp upon his tongue, harder than he’d meant.
Down below, the variety of flora nestled in pots lifted up as if listening. Leaves canted, the edges crisp and tilted toward the scene. Some of the more gathered vines shivered. Whether that was out of anticipation or delight remained to be seen.
Another one of those dramatically grand huffs heaved from his lungs and he drew the covers tighter around himself.
He didn’t miss the irritation in Hemlock’s tone. His familiar had every right to feel the prickle of upset - Dayton had long since overturned the kettle and now….now everyone he’d ever loved hated him and he didn’t like that. Well, except for….”Hem…” he sighed. The blankets curled away and he peered up at the shorter man. “Hemlock. I don’t know how to fix things.”
Hemlock stared down at those peeping eyes, head tilted. “Fix what? There’s probably a video on Youtube of how to.”
The internet was fascinating like that. He’d once fallen into a month-long hole of watching plumbing tutorials for no reason except to lose his mind when someone inevitably pulled out their phone and looked up a video in the current video. He glanced around half-heartedly for one of their phones so he could help Dayton, but the bed was warm and Dayton was actually speaking instead of heaving sighs.
Giving up after another cursory pass over the immediate surroundings, he lifted an edge of the covers and slid back beneath them. Hemlock was small enough that they could actually share blankets quite easily, evidenced now as he matched Dayton with only the top of his face visible. “What did you break? It’s made you very upset.”
“I need to talk to my brother.” Arms wound around Hem, drawing him close. “It’s not something easily mended.” Repairing that would take a lot of work and Dayton was willing to put it in even if it was hard. He just didn’t really know where to start. Things had gone sideways for a long time and he didn’t know if they even could be repaired. He didn’t think he’d ever truly be able to undo all of the things he’d done.
“It has made me upset,” he confirmed. “For a long time, but for different reasons.” Back then it was the poison of Eugenia’s wiles. Now, it was seeing things with clearer vision and trying to understand what was real and what had been all lies.
Being grumpy wasn’t ideal. It was exhausting and took his focus away from other things that made him happy.
Hemlock let himself be drawn in with a soft hum. There probably was a YouTube video on how to mend fences with estranged family members, Hemlock wanted to point out. The misery etched across Dayton’s features stopped him.
“What happened?” He reached out to push a hunk of dark hair away from his witch's eyes. “I didn't want to bring it up, but I've wondered. I saw him before you, you know. The first day I was here.”
Being this close, speaking in soft tones about secrets, all of it reminded Hemlock of earlier, sunnier days with Dayton. Back when they'd felt inseparable—until they had been. “He told me that…she…made you make him leave. And you said he couldn't come back,” he continued softly, careful not to speak Eugenia's name. He was fae enough to know that names held power, and if talking about her somehow drew her to the cirque's doorstep…well, they couldn't have that. “Why would you do that to your brother?”
“She had me convinced that Isaac was trying to steal her away from me,” Dayton explained. “Trying to win her heart and I got very upset with him.” Her exact words had been a lot harsher than what he’d relayed to Hemlock, but it amounted to the same thing. “I grabbed my gun and chased Isaac off of our property. I likely would’ve put a bullet into him that day - I was beside myself with what she claimed he had attempted, but looking back I am beginning to understand that it was likely a ruse. I believe she deceived me into thinking that Isaac was after the one thing I thought that I loved because she knew I would protect her over anyone else. And I chased away the only other reliable person in my life.” Hemlock came first but even that relationship had turned upside down at some point and Dayton drifted away.
He brushed Hemlock’s back and shoulders tenderly as he spoke. “Isaac is cross with me. He has every right to be such a way - he knew the truth and I wouldn’t listen. I still wouldn’t believe it even after she deceived me again and turned me out of my own estate. In a way I supposed it’s a good thing - I have found you, and Isaac. The challenge now is fixing what I’ve done.”
Both Isaac and Dayton had talked around the incident now. Hemlock was observant enough to know he wasn’t getting all the details, but he wasn’t sure he needed them. Eugenia had put Isaac in danger on purpose and Dayton had done something blindly foolish.
“He told me whatever she said was a lie. I believe him,” Hemlock said, eyes half-lidded from the soft touches. “You need to tell him you believe him, too.”
He laid a wooden hand on Dayton’s cheek, thumb scraping over the stubble there. “I was happy for you when you found her. That you loved her. But you forgot that you loved me first, and Isaac before me. Can she be blamed for all of that?”
Dayton had been so happy in those early days with Eugenia that it was hard to imagine that things would have turned out so poorly. She was clearly a bad, thieving, manipulative apple whose influence was damning, but Hemlock knew his witch wasn’t just a love-blind fool. He was a well educated, nuanced adult who might have had an independent thought or two somewhere along the path that separated him from his brother and familiar.
“You fix it by telling us you’re sorry, and that you still love us, and won’t forget again.” Hemlock was careful with his tone, wanting the words to land softly instead of as a harsh ultimatum. The fact that Dayton was rolling around huffing and sulking was proof enough to Hemlock that somewhere Dayton knew most of this and was bothered by his past actions, he just hadn’t known how to express it. He offered Dayton a small smile and traced a rough fingertip over one dark brow. “Then you prove it by being here.”
“Can we begin after breakfast?” Dayton chuckled. He knew better than to fuss or challenge, and really there was no fight in him with those soft words acting as a deflation to anything he could concoct. He hadn’t given Hemlock the whole story but it didn’t matter. Things transpired and they couldn’t be erased, but perhaps they could be mended. His fingers weren’t as agile as Astrid’s when she sutured and sewed, but Dayton had a feeling that Hemock was right - those trenches dug were now graves but that didn’t mean they weren’t still there.
Each touch was met with a soft sigh of satisfaction. “I suppose I must begin with you, since you’re the first one I’ve had the chance to make amends with. He kept his tone sleep soft. “Hemlock, my dearest friend and most cherished, I am sorry for what I’ve put you through. I do love you, dearly. I cannot make up for the time that I set us apart but I hope that you will stay by my side so that I can make the next however many years we have together the best for both of us. I will not let anything or anyone ever come between us again.” He’d perish into the earth before that day.
Apologizing was hard, but Dayton found the words came easier than he realized they would. Laden with emotion, and determined to make it right, he decided that today would be the day that his life changed for the better. He wanted to be his true self again which meant taking the initiative to prove he was better than when he’d left the manor.
Hemlock listened to Dayton work through his apology with a growing smile, pleased inside and out to hear the witch reaffirm their bond. This Dayton was not the one he’d known before he’d gone for his long sleep. This Dayton was the witch he remembered: sincere, thoughtful, and willing to work hard for the people who loved him best.
“I forgive you,” Hemlock whispered, and tilted Dayton’s chin downwards so he could plant a kiss at his temple. “And I love you too.”
They were already wound together tightly enough that it wasn’t much work to throw an arm over Dayton to squeeze him. “We’re going to do great things together. And you’re going to apologise to Isaac. And then we’ll all be a family again.”
The last sentence, while cheery, carried an undertone of finality. Hemlock knew what was going to happen—or else.
Hemlock opened his mouth to continue to chatter but stopped, pausing as if he’d heard something suddenly. His eyes wandered towards the edge of the bed and he wriggled free of his witch enough to peer over at the upturned, nosy plants and restless vines. “You gossips. Find your own drama.”
He felt more like himself with every day that passed. How it had taken this long to come to his senses was beyond him - Hemlock had been right on the nose regarding him having some personal stake in his own actions and those things caused a lump of regret to sit heavily in his stomach. He’d carry that dark monolith with him forever and it would likely sit on his grave like a trinket. A reminder.
“That makes me so happy!” The kiss sent a blossom of warmth through his skin and a sigh of satisfaction left his lips. Eyes closed and he basked in the comfort of Hem’s touch. He’d missed this very connection. Even during the times he’d been with her the touch and connection had never felt as warm and inviting as this.
Those browns slid open. “Mm. As soon as we decide to wake up, I’ll reach out to Isaac to begin mending what I have torn apart.” There was deep promise laden in those words and he wouldn’t disappoint anyone again. Never.
Challenging his familiar seemed like a bad idea with all of the progress that they’d made and so he didn’t.
Dayton chuckled, “They’re intrigued, aren’t they?” He could feel those curious coils of the reaching vines, and the little, decorative pots and dishes holding a variety of saplings, seedlings, and renewed plants that had once fallen into a weepy state of dismay.
“They are.”
Hemlock slid a hand beneath his chin, the other reaching out to the nearest vine. He let it curl around the tip of his finger, lips twitching at the tickle of it. “I think they’re happy you’re doing better. The earth always knows.”
He wondered if the circus’ land would be a little more lush and green now to agree with Dayton. That would be nice.
“Do you want to wake up now?” He glanced over his shoulder towards his witch. “Or do you want to try sleeping more now that you aren’t huffing and puffing?”
“There is no hiding what our intentions are from her,” Dayton agreed. The plants and trees were so in tune with the earth itself that those with the same magic tended to be more open to those curious twists of leaves and whispers on the wind. Hem felt it as deeply as he did. It was one of the many ways they bonded so strongly together.
An arm lifted and the back of his fingers swiped casually across weary eyes. “The day is calling me, but I am so tired.” It was a tempting lure, the warm air and vibrant array of flora just waiting to be acknowledged. He felt a resurgence of magic inside of himself as a bit of peace began to settle in.
“Give me a bit to rest, and then I’ll have the strength to face the day.”
“We can do that.”
Hemlock was liable to fall asleep anytime he stayed idle too long. Slipping back into a doze with his witch wouldn’t be a problem at all. He waited until the vine released him and scooted back across the bed so he could tuck up against Dayton. Wooden fingers patted the witch’s middle once Hemlock was settled, eyes already closed again.
“It’s going to be a good day,” he announced in his firm way that brooked no argument, and laid his head down to rest.