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Garlemald is not silent when the sun sets, unlike the Steppe, Nagenawa notes. Not even Ishgard, busy and bustling all the way into the early hours of the morning, could match the constant hum of electricity that buzzed through the walls. It irritated his horns if he focused hard enough on the sound, made them feel like they were going to shake loose from his skull, made him shudder and twitch uncomfortably. Squeezing his eyes shut may or may not actually help dull the sensation, but he hopes at least it’ll help him fall asleep quicker.
Fox had no issues himself, passing out moments after his head hit the pillow, as usual. Nagenawa felt exhausted as well, but he’s been laying on the stiff mattress for an hour, two hours, who even is keeping track at this point. Not him, not with the buzzing reaching into his horns, rummaging around like it’s searching for something. He’s tried facing the wall, the window, face down, desperately attempting to block out the offending not-noise with his just as stiff pillow. It hums relentlessly, and he just wants to sleep.
He opens his eyes again, focuses on the shapes in the ceiling and tries to not think of how the neon outside the window casts jutting, multi-colored shadows across everything in the room. He’s mildly surprised all his tossing and turning hasn’t woken Fox up. His arm, initially draped haphazardly across Nagenawa’s torso, now tucked at an awkward angle in the small space between the two. Maybe he should try to move it so Fox doesn’t wake up complaining about stiff joints, but he’s worried that moving it directly will definitely wake him.
His eyes trace Fox’s sleeping form, from fingers pointed at an angle that doesn’t look comfortable, down his body, and finally back up to his face. His mouth is slightly open, almost snoring but not quite, and his soft breaths send puffs of air that blow through his mustache. Eyes closed, he looks peaceful in the way that drowns out everything around Nagenawa. He almost doesn’t even realize he’s reached out to touch his face until he feels the warm skin under his fingertips. For a moment, Fox’s face scrunches up, and Nagenawa thinks, there goes trying to let him sleep, but he’s relaxed again, contentedness filling out edges where there had been only neutrality before.
Nagenawa in turn, allows his own muscles to unwind, registering how tensed up he’d been despite all other efforts to rest. He really owes it to Fox, getting him to relax even when unconscious.
When they had entered the room provided to them courtesy of Minfillia, there were two beds. The size of each were suitable for two men of their size, and yet they hunkered down together in a single bed that could just barely fit both.
"It's pretty cold here," Nagenawa had said. Colder than Ishgard, certainly, which already had a constant chill that, even with a fire, could not stop goosebumps from rising on his skin.
Fox agreed. Even he was left shivering from a slight breeze, a furnace of a man that he was.
They settled into bed quietly, deciding that it would be better to share the warmth under a heavy blanket without exchanging a word. That's how they've come to communicate over the years, knowing what the other is thinking and answering in kind, all without speaking. It was an art they mastered, living together on the Steppe, in tune without even trying.
Nagenawa tucked himself into Fox's side, making himself as comfortable as possible on top of the stiff mattress, with Fox doing the same. Nagenawa lets out a deep, heavy sigh, indicative of the long day he's had and the even longer day that is sure to come tomorrow. But in-between he is here, now, chasing away the chilled ache in his bones, beside the man who brings him a comfort undefined.
He thinks about the way Fox had slung an arm across Nagenawa's body, pressing their bodies together with a pressure that leaves him feeling whole, and whispered into his hair.
You're strong. You can make it through this.
The buzzing quiets, his eyelids grow heavy, and finally, finally he drifts off after what felt like an eternity.
Nightmares are not uncommon to Nagenawa anymore. He’s grown used to fitful nights of sleep on occasion, eyelids torn open by visions of his father, of his family, of everyone maimed or suffering or dead and Nagenawa chained where he stands and forced to watch it all unblinking. It still gets him, of course, those horrifying seconds where dream blends with reality and he’s not sure what’s the truth.
Fox being there helps. He would rub his back in a slow, rhythmic pattern and whisper affirmations like, “I’m here,” and, “You’re fine,” and, “I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you”. Sometimes Nagenawa would rock back and forth, unable to stop awful sobs from ripping out of his throat, other times he would try his best to laugh it off and urge Fox back to sleep. Regardless, Fox always soothed him. Soft hands, soft words.
Right now, Fox is not there. Nagenawa is not sure where he is, but he knows that he isn’t himself. He’s a young girl. What was her name? She doesn’t know. She sees the sky rain down hellfire, sees great beating wings swoop down and snatch away her friends, sees blood and fear and flashes of light brighter than the sun. A face appears in front of her, expression like marble and clad in heavenly armor. A spear, dozens, hundreds, impale her with a sickening squelch. She isn’t dying, this won’t kill her, but the pain she feels now is hardly an itch when her skin breaks open between cracks of light.
She becomes something barely human, half chariot. It wields cards spread out like constellations across the sky, and it would look holy if it did not ravage all in its path. Under its wheels it crushes innocents, tears up the very earth beneath it as a display of power. There is no rational thought that drives the killings, it’s all pure instinct, like a starved beast that will never be satisfied.
When all that is living is dead or turned, the sin eaters begin to cannibalize, with nothing else to free but themselves. They turn towards each to sate the blood lust, from spilling red to concentrated light. The Forgiven Obsession claws its way through, not letting anything escape its wrath. It sends its stars to burn and bleed dry, until all that remains are seven. They do not harm each other. Something keeps them from doing so, something deep inside that pulls at the reins and screams stop! They simply sit, and stare, until the world itself breaks open beneath and swallows them whole, like god rays reversed.
There is so much more to the dream after, he knows that the story won’t end there, but he’s woken abruptly by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him firmly. Nagenawa opens his eyes, and even in the dark all he sees is white until his eyes adjust. He sits up, trembling, sweating, breath nearly matching the pace of his speeding heart. The hand on his shoulder slides down and traces soothing patterns in his back, and he nearly flinches away if it didn’t feel so familiar.
“Hey, you’re okay, you were having a nightmare, you’re fine,” a voice beside him speaks softly and evenly, “I’m right here, it’s okay, it wasn’t real.”
“It was,” Nagenawa chokes out hoarsely. His throat feels so raw; had he been screaming? "It was real. It happened. It-it-" he stutters, no longer able to get words out with the way he's coiled up on himself, constricting his chest with a vice.
“It isn't happening now,” Fox reassures him, “Look around. We’re in Garlemald, in a shitty little room, y'see? Tell me what you see.”
Nagenawa looks around, sees the neon and the shadows and their gunblades leaning against the wall. He sees two pairs of legs underneath thick comforters, leading up to two bodies. His eyes trace up the one beside him, takes note of fingers, arm, and finally, a gentle face.
Of all the things to come up right now, the humming returns and vibrates his horns once again, causing him to grimace.
“Buzzing,” he answers, forgetting the question.
“You see… buzzing?” Fox asks.
“It’s. Loud,” he says, stilted. He can barely register Fox’s words through the thick haze of his mind. It is loud, not just the electricity, but the memories of screaming and blood; those are louder. He buries his face in his hands, hoping to quiet the last remnants of his nightmare.
“I forgot it,” Nagenawa says through muffled fingers.
“Hm?”
“Athilda. Everyone. I forgot it. Forgot I was them. Didn’t know,” his thoughts come out a stumbling mess, falling before he even knows to catch them. “Was I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know,” Fox says after a moment. That makes two of them.
His mind circles back to Athilda. She was only nineteen, the same age when he first began to journey, barely older than Daisuke now. So young, so full of passion and life, had so much ahead of her and she lost it all to Emet-Selch’s own selfish desires.
And the worst part? He understood his motives. He would raise hell to protect the people he loves, and his stomach curdles at the thought of empathizing with a man who killed so many just to maybe bring back the people he cared about. He might have done the same, in that position.
Nagenawa thinks it’s best to keep that to himself.
The two of them sit in the humming darkness, Nagenawa wants to ask Fox to keep talking to drown out everything else, but is afraid that opening his mouth will let out something unsightly. Wants to talk, himself, but doesn’t know how to even begin to explain the horrors he’s lived through. All he wants right now is for the hard parts to be over with, like he thought they were three years ago. How many times does he have to save the world? Will this be the last, or…
“Fox,” Nagenawa whispers. Fox’s attention turns toward him, eyes full of concern. “Can you do something for me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Anything.”
Nagenawa swallows thickly. He knows for certain Fox means it, would not hesitate for a moment to fall on the sword for his most trusted friend. He doesn't even start talking, but Fox sees the look on his face and frowns.
“No, no you’re gonna be fine I won’t let you-”
“Fox,” Nagenawa says sternly, enough to make Fox flinch. It breaks his heart, knowing that he would say the same to Fox himself had the situation been reversed, but still. “Please let me finish I- I need to say this. Please.”
Beneath the skin and stubble, Fox’s jaw clenches tight, wanting to argue. Instead, he nods, and waits for Nagenawa to continue.
“If I don’t make it, please tell everyone back home I love them. Let them know that I did everything I could to keep them safe. That I’ll always be watching over them,” he struggles to get the words out through his tightening throat. Tears wet his cheeks, running down to drip off of his scaled jaw and onto the blankets. Fox raises his hands and does his best to wipe them away, which only makes Nagenawa cry harder. “Please just- please. Please.”
He sobs openly. Everything he wants to say is replaced by the word “please,” choked out over and over and over again. He isn’t begging Fox. He doesn’t know who he’s begging to, or if he’s just pleading to the universe to keep the people he loves safe. He won’t let the world end again. Won’t let Athilda’s, or Wjethgar’s, or Illnione’s, or any life that he’s lived’s sacrifice be in vain. If it means he’ll never get to see them again, then so be it. He can make his own sacrifices.
Nagenawa’s crying dies down with the rising of the morning sun. The bright lights from the outside flicker off as gray, overcast sunlight filters into their room. It does nothing to lift his mood, but the anticipation for this final battle claws at the back of his mind.
Fox wipes off the remaining moisture from his face with the corner of a sheet, and the act makes him giggle, despite all the other feelings inside of him. “That’s gross,” Nagenawa chuckles, voice somewhat nasally from how stuffed up his nose still is.
“Well, it’s their fault for not having any tissues for us,” Fox replies, smiling softly and stroking Nagenawa’s cheek with his thumb. Nagenawa leans into the touch, taking solace in the short-lived moments of gentleness. Maybe the last ones he’ll get to have.
“Can you promise me that you’ll tell them?” Nagenawa asks, barely a whisper. Fox’s smile falls, and his eyes dart away. Nagenawa almost pleads again, but Fox inhales deep, and slow, and looks him in the eyes.
“I promise.”
There is little peace in their vow, but a weight lifts from his chest, as small as it is.
Muffled sounds of life can be heard through the walls, as everyone else wakes up for the oncoming storm. Nagenawa wants to revel in this stiff, terrible bed next to his warm, loving friend for just a little longer, before he has to rise and join everyone. He wraps his arms tightly around Fox, who reciprocates without hesitation, closes his eyes and breathes in his comforting smell. He knows this won’t last forever, but it’ll be long enough. If this is the final act of love he gets to feel, then he will savor every drop until its last.