Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Henry was running late.

It wasn't often that he ran late, and he already felt the low churn of his stomach when he'll be faced with his boss, Vincent.

Fuck, why did he have to be late today?

Henry finally saw the small workshop at the corner of the road, pedalling faster on his old bike. He barely missed a person who threw an insult Henry chose to ignore. He saw in front of the door, Vincent's van, backdoors open, still empty. Slamming his brakes hard - so hard in fact that Pebbles, the poor bike, hissed - Henry dismounted. Vincent had told him when he started working that he could park his bike inside, to avoid having it stolen off the streets. Entering the building, Henry tried to calm his breathing, leading Pebbles to a dark corner of the room.

"You're late." Came Vincent's voice from the small storage room aside the forging room. His voice was deep and gravelly from years of heavy smoking.

"I know, I'm sorry. My brother - he-" Henry took a deep breath to calm his erratic heart. "He thought it was a good idea to lock himself in the bathroom for an hour." He followed Vincent' voice from the storage room.

That earned a laugh from the older man. "Whatever, you're here now. Help me with the charge?" Vincent gestured towards a few carefully wrapped swords and daggers, arranged neatly into one long cardboard box, too long for one person to safely carry, and a second smaller one.

Henry nodded, pulling up his sleeves and bending by the knees - not the back, he was always taught - he carried one side of the box. Vincent was carrying the other side, guiding Henry by voice as he was the one walking backwards.

"Left - no, not your left, my left - there, okay and slide." They managed to load the first box. The second was no hassle.

Vincent put a strong hand on Henry's shoulder in goodwill, a habit he took whenever they achieved something together - a new wrought piece, a successful deal with a client, or like here, successfully loading the van with no problems. Henry closed the backdoors of the van, then opening and slamming it shut again to make sure it was closed.

Wiping his hands, he climbed on the passenger seat as Vincent locked the front doors. He unceremoniously sat on the driver's seat and ignited the car.

"Ready to see pretty college girls ?" the older man said as he wiggled his eyebrows, hazel eyes staring straight at Henry's. 

Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head, yet a smile crept up on his face. "You're married, I doubt your wife would be thrilled about what you just said."

"Well, she's not there, is she? Vincent laughed. "But I do mean it. Find yourself a girl, Henry. Stop spending so much time in the forge after your hours. I know I let you use it when you want to forge something for you or your family, but you should find something else to occupy your days."

"Thanks for the advice." Henry answered, smile wavering. He focused on the moving scenery through the car window. An advice he will not listen. His life is good. He has a routine, and he wouldn't trade it. Not yet.

"You know, that's how I met my wife."

Oh boy, Henry thought, there is it again.

"I told her I was a blacksmith. She was interested - she'd never met one before - so I offered to take her to my forge. She accepted, so I let her look through the weapons and tools I had stored waiting payment. Then I showed her my secret weapon, if you know what I mean." Henry made a disgusted noise. "Oh, come on, Jindra ! I tell you, being a blacksmith makes all the women want you. I don't know if it's the fire or the hammering, but they all want to-"

"Alright, Vincent, that's enough. I don't want to have this discussion, lest a very displeasing image makes its way into my skull forever."

"You're no fun."

The rest of the ride was in relative silence, mostly cursing the other drivers. The local university was a little while from Vincent's forge. They mostly had to leave the town's centre to make their way into the town' suburbs, where the University and the different student housing were constructed. It wasn't new, dated from the Cold War. They stopped the car after finding a spot near a side entrance. Outside, waiting patiently with clasped hands, laid an older woman. Her outfit was one Henry imagined college professors would have : a purple blazer over a simple white tee shirt and black pants, simple black heels. Leaving the car, he directed himself to open the backdoors while Vincent came to greet the woman.

"I see you came well-equipped !" The woman said, approaching the van. She smiled to Henry. "You must be Henry Kovář. I am Professor Marie Nováková."

"Nice to meet you. "

"And you as well. I'm happy you both could clear your schedule to attend my class. It's important for me that my students learn about professionals they may have to work with in the future."

"The honour is all ours, ma'am." Vincent answered, the tone of formality foreign to Henry's ears.

"Do you need help with the boxes?" She asked. "I don't mind helping you carry."

"If it's no bother, the smaller box shouldn't be heavy. Lead the way, ma'am. Henry, some help."

Henry and Vincent put down the long box on an empty table near the teacher's desk. Most students were waiting patiently on their phones, or discussing amongst themselves. Some stared at them, visibly confused, others a wide grin on their mouths. Henry felt quite uncomfortable, standing next to Vincent softly talking to the professor, while in front of an assembly of students. He knew he should have at least tried a bit harder on his outfit ; a simple green hoodie and black cargo pants didn't exactly scream professional blacksmith. Henry busied himself on his phone, pretending to be very focused, checking mails and scrolling through his gallery. At one point, Samuel sent him a "you will mess everything up" message, whom he sent a lovely middle finger in reply.

"Well." Nováková said, voice clear and confident. "As I told you last lesson, today we will be able to hear more about medieval weapons in line with the current lesson on late medieval warfare. You all know how much I value connections and meeting people, as your line of future work will require knowing where and who to look for. For this class, I have invited two blacksmiths, specialised in the forging and restoration of medieval weapons. This is Vincent Veselý and Henry Kovář." She turned to the two men next to her. "I'll let you speak more about your work." Some people snickered at the mention of Henry's last name. He ignored them, used to it already.

Vincent rubbed his hand and stepped towards the class. "Me and Henry are, as the Professor said, specialised in medieval weapons. Our line of work is quite simple. Most of our clients are experimental archaeologists, various theatres and studios looking for props for their historical reenactment. Of course, we also have museums and different professionals in archaeology who may need our services to repair or restore various historical weapons, or seek us out to explain historical blacksmithing techniques. Because it's much better to learn with the element of study in hand, we took out some replica of various weapons we can find during the era you're all studying very hard for, I'm sure." A few heads looked up, or made faces at that remark. "Henry, I let you present the first weapon."

Henry's head whipped towards him, suddenly nervous. He eyed the class. More heads looked at him with curiosity.

"Of course." He stilled his voice. He opened the box and took out the first sword his fingers touched. A long sword he had forged himself.

"This is a long sword. A weapon like this was usually a two-handed weapon, and the range permitted the knight to strike first and farther than his enemy. The blade itself is double-edged, like most swords of this time, but the tip here is pointed, which was not the case for most swords, particularly short swords. The tip was mostly used to deal precise strong blow to destabilize the enemy, or to strike with precision into the cracks of an armour, in order to deliver a killing blow. It may seem like it weighs a lot, but it is a quite light. The average long sword is around 2 to 3 kilograms. This one is a bit more on the heavier side, though." he said, words precise and practiced. He held the sword upright in one hand. "It would have been used a primary weapon for most knights. I forged this one myself. One of my proudest, I think !"

Henry carefully set it down on the table, to pick another sword from the box. A short sword, this time. He held it towards Vincent.

"That was very informative, and it was very kind of you to take time off of your very busy schedules and take replicas of weapons with you for us. Thank you." Professor Nováková said, lesson finished. Henry felt a bit more at ease as the students all busied themselves with packing up their personal affairs. Then, quieter, only for the two blacksmiths to hear. "If any students may have lingering questions, do you mind staying a bit more?"

"We don't mind. Do we, Henry ?" Vincent said. Henry shook his head.

She directed her voice towards the students, to rise over the noises. "If any of you would like to know more or ask questions directly to them, you can."

Almost no student came to see them to ask questions. Henry felt a bit of hurt at that, letting his head drop. He reasoned it was because they explained well things.

"Did you really craft that longsword by yourself?" A voice rose in front of him.

Henry looked up to find a brushed back blonde-haired student, around his age, with blue eyes. He looked at the sword with intense curiosity.

"I did. It took me a few days straight of work, though. I used medieval techniques for this blade, so all the shaping wasn't done by the compressor, but with a hammer and my arms."

The man snorted. "Shouldn't be that hard, is it? You use a soft metal and bam, two strike and you have it."

Henry shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. If i used a soft metal it would defeat the purpose of the weapon. Longwords are meant to be made of resistant steel : not too hard that they brittle at the slightest impact, but not too soft or they don't hold the edge."

"Why care for the metal anyway? It's not like it'll be used."

That sentence made Henry more mad than necessary. "The metal is important for making a sword. It's the main component ; choose the bad kind of steel and your sword cannot perform well, even if you do not use it for anything but decorating your grandma's chimney."

"But it won't be used ? I still don't get it."

Henry breathed deep. "Then keep not getting it, what do you want me to say ?" He said, anger creeping the edge of his words.

The man took his longsword in hand, not asking permission. Henry's hands twitched.

"Please don't touch the sword." He tried, voice easy.

The blonde didn't put it down and began to swing like a madman, trying to feel the weight. That was Henry's last straw. He stopped the swinging with his hand, suddenly grateful for the unsharpened edge, fingers tingling in a pain he was used to feel.

"These are swords, not toys." He said, voice firm as he ripped the sword away from the student's grasp. Then snarkier. "If you want to play pretend go to a playstore. There's a nice one two streets back."

The man gasped, offended. "Oh I'm sure you know all about playstores, that's probably where you lost your mommy."

A different anger took ahold of him, as Henry would have lunged a fist at his face if the professor didn't step in. "Capon ! Apologize right now : you crossed the line. I hope that's not how you'll treat your associates in the future."

"I'm not going to apologize !"

"Oh I'm sorry, are you a child ?"

Capon seemed even more offended than he already was, and stormed out, of the class, apology unheard. Henry scoffed and carefully rewrapped the sword in bubblewrap, busying his hands in an attempt to bury the ever creeping wave of grief, eyes glossy.

"I am sorry." The teacher said.

"You don't have to apologize on his behalf." Vincent said.

"I don't mean to excuse his behaviour, but he is a very difficult student most of the time. He always acts out that way, I hoped you wouldn't have to witness this, but obvioudly, this was wishful thinking."

Vincent patted Henry's back in compassion. Vincent had known Henry's parents before the tragedy that took their life. Pa was a friend of his, back when they both learned blacksmithing. It was Pa that landed him this job, working for Vincent.

"Come on," The older man said, voice soft. "Let's go back to the shop."

Chapter Text

Henry sat on his bed, Samuel and Theresa scrutinizing his wardrobe like two judges on a fashion show. The pile of clean discarded clothes grew higher next to him on the bed.

"That shirt looks good." Samuel said, holding a shirt Henry hadn't worn in years. It was a white shirt, with a sword drawn over where the heart would lay underneath.

"Maybe. Add it to the other pile." Theresa answered.

Samuel nonchalantly threw it on Henry's desk chair, where one other shirt, a deep sea blue one, laid. Henry rolled his eyes. They've been at it for the better part of an hour, ever since Theresa arrived at their home and decided that Henry hadn't dressed well enough for the party. Samuel had eventually joined them, and, perhaps to torture Henry farther, decided to help Theresa.

Theresa made a face. "Absolutely not." She said, throwing next to Henry a black T-shirt that Vincent had offered him for his 18th birthday. On the shirt was written a bad pun about blacksmithing. That was one of his favourite.

"I love that one..." Henry protested, looking at the text written in slowly fading letters.

"Jindra, your taste in clothes is pathetic at best." Theresa said, not bothering to glance towards him. Then, her soft face turned towards him. "You never go out, it'll be the perfect occasion for you to meet new friends, and to meet a girl..." the other part of that sentence involving the opposite sex was left unspoken, but reached Henry's ears nonetheless.

"Or a boy." Samuel completed, the sound of the words jamming into Henry like a secret spilt for the first time.

Theresa was quick to shut him up. "Radzig could hear you, you dumbass !"

"Hear me?" Samuel whisper-yelled back. "He's snoring louder than a lord after a feast !" Then, more clearly, "he's not going to hear shit !"

Henry let out a guttural sound. "Why can't I just wear what I'm wearing now ? It's not like we're going to a ball."

His brother turned toward him, looking up and down at his blue jeans and long sleeved thermal shirt resting underneath a rock band shirt. "Chin up Cinderella, you'll survive wearing a good fit for once." Samuel said, a snicker in his voice.

Henry eyed him. "Says the guy who thinks wearing overpriced anime hoodies is style."

"I shall ignore what you said, for my taste is superior to yours."

Henry shook his head to the side, cocking his eyebrows with a wide smile.

Theresa suddenly ripped from the wardrobe a newfound prize, letting out a shout of pride, like how an archaeologist would react when stumbling upon an old forgotten grave. "That !" She said, holding a black buttoned up shirt he wore maybe three times over the span of his whole life.

Samuel's hand cupped his chin, thinking. "Yeah, might be good with grey or dark blue pants."

"If I can manage to wear it without breaking the seams." Henry said, extending an arm toward the fabric.

Theresa handed it to him, then out of politeness, cast her gaze to the side. Samuel kept his eyes trained on him with the familiarity of a fashion judge eyeing a model during a contest. Henry took off his shirts, then slipped an arm into the first armhole. The fabric strained by the size of his biceps, but still, it fit, on the condition he didn't flex or move his arms around too much. He didn't even button it yet, and it felt tight.

"If I bend my elbow, the fabric is going to rip."

Theresa sighed and looked up. "Curse your blacksmith arms."

"They're almost as allergic to fashion as you are." Samuel complained with a slight mocking smile on his face.

"Ah, ah, ah."

Theresa huffed and extended a slim arm toward Henry, gesturing him to take it off and give it to her. He obeyed, crossing his arms over his naked chest. He ignored the slight rosy tint on her cheeks as she preoccupied herself by taking the impressive number of two shirts acceptable to go to this party and comparing them further. Samuel was perched over her shoulder. They whispered amongst themselves, too low for Henry to hear, or care enough to.

"Alright, it's decided !" Theresa said, voice sure. She shoved the deep blue shirt to his chest. "You are also going to be wearing ripped black jeans."

"Ripped ?" He asked incredulous. "I don't have ripped jeans in my wardrobe."

"But I do !" Samuel announced, sing-songy as he left toward his own room.

Someone help me, Henry thought loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Theresa looked at him, proud of herself. Of course, the digging around his - not messy, but perfectly well put - wardrobe had her hair look wilder than it had when she crossed the door. Her neat braid had sparse rebelling hairs, framing her angular face. She chose to wear a brown leather jacket over a white knee-high dress.

"I'll wait in the living room downstairs." She said, then left Henry with his bed full of discarded shirts. Great.

Samuel came back as soon as she left, throwing him a pair of ripped black jeans. "I'm lending you this pair, if you stain or damage it, I'll extract revenge."

"I'm not sure how I could damage it more than it already is." Henry said, eyeing the various "trendy" holes around the knees.

Yet, Henry did listen to them, and slipped the pair of jeans and the blue shirt on. Tucking the T-shirt in the pants and choosing a rather discreet black belt, Henry looked in a mirror. He had to hand it to Theresa and Samuel, he did look good. Perhaps he should take more care about his appearance. 

Taking his phone and wallet, Henry briefly walked to the bathroom to spray some of his - rarely used, why wear it at the forge - cologne. In the living room, Theresa was texting on her phone, shoes already put on, and Samuel was tying his tennis shoes. In the relative silence of it all, his father's consistent loud snoring from the couch was the only sound heard. Samuel and Henry crossed looks. Radzig had asked them to tell him when they'd leave.

"Rock papers scissors to wake him ?" Samuel offered, standing up.

"Deal."

Henry and Samuel waved their fists into the air and at three : scissors against fist. Henry groaned as Samuel pumped a victorious fist into the air. 

The party had already started, by the time they came into the flat. They knocked on the door, and a young woman, about their age, opened the door. He recognised her as Katherine, one of Theresa's friends, Henry recalled from elementary. She hugged her and promptly invited them inside. The music was loud, playing on a Bluetooth speaker in the middle of the room, amongst beer bottles and other stronger alcohol. The air was hot and slick with sweat and gossip. Samuel patted on Henry's back as he vanished into the kitchen, surely to grab a beer bottle from the counter.

"Come on, enter, they won't bite." Theresa said, pushing a hand on Henry's back, encouraging him to step into the living room. He locked his body, letting her push helplessly against the wall that is Henry's body. "Come on, Jindra, walk."

"I don't know how to." he answered, laugh clear, moving his head back to glimpse at her. Two hands were on his back now, pushing him.

"Move your legs."

"Don't know how to."

"I give up. You're harder than a rock." She laughed.

"Aw, you're not fun."

She playfully hit him on the shoulder. As she entered the room, Henry followed her close behind. He didn't know most people here. It was mostly students from the university, as he recalled Theresa saying. Most of them in the science department, but few from more literary degrees. Theresa looked back to see him follow close behind.

"Well, look who learned to walk." Theresa teased.

"What can I say, I'm a fast learner." Henry answered, bending slightly to talk closer to her ear as the music got louder.

A few people threw their arms in the air, cheering as Theresa waved at them. It was Theresa's friends, as Henry guessed. It was mostly women, but Henry didn't mind. Better than to stand around awkward, drink in hand and no one to talk to.

"Hey guys !" Theresa said, cheerful. She gestured towards Henry. "This is Henry, I told you about him, if you recall."

"The blacksmith !" One - very drunk - screamed. Henry chuckled.

Theresa pointed to each of them, "So you already know Katherine, but this is Klara," a brown hair girl, wearing braids in the form of a crown around her head. "Stephanie but you can call her Steph," a woman with long black hair, "and of course, you already know, Bianca." Bianca hadn't changed much from elementary, Henry noticed.

"Glad to finally see you all!" Henry smiled. "And it's good to see you two again."

Bianca offered him a polite smile. She was his first girlfriend, when they were younger. The breakup wasn't particularly messy, but it stung Henry more than he'd like to admit. He wasn't attracted to her anymore, but seeing her again was... odd.

The drunk girl, Klara took another sip then pointed a finger at him. "You're not drinking ? Take a beer, they're really good." She spoke the last part as if she was whispering a secret into another's ear.

Henry's smile didn't falter.

Bianca's voice rose. It made his heart pinch, smile wavering before setting back to its original shape. "Don't just stand around, we'll make place on the couch, come on, sit !"

They only had enough place for Theresa to sit on the couch, and Henry had to awkwardly lean on the cushioned armrest.

"So, you did manage to become a blacksmith." Bianca asked, a smile tugging at her red-covered lips.

Henry exhaled. "I did. I graduated from the artisan high school, and right after I managed to find a job working with a blacksmith, his workshop's not so far from the town centre."

Bianca nodded. "That's good. I'm glad you were able to do that."

"What do you craft ?" Steph asked, taking a slow sip of beer.

Theresa held a cup of beer towards him. He didn't see she left to get some.

"I mainly forge weapons. Swords, daggers, maces... the likes. The blacksmith's specialised in medieval weapons, which was precisely what I wanted to work in."

"Swords ?" Katherine asked. "You have to show some, I'd love to get a forged sword, but they're so costy."

Henry laughed, then pulled out his phone, scrolling through the gallery to find his latest finished project : a short sword, oriental style, the likes of which would have been used by Cumans. He showed her.

She whistled. "You forged that ?"

Henry nodded.

"Impressive! I must keep you close, if I want one for my birthday."

Henry laughed and took a sip of his beer, gliding his phone back in his pocket. 

And then, at the corner of his eyes, he saw him. Mad swordsman, Capon, if he remembered correctly. His figure was against a table, back arched by the force of which he threw his head back in laughter. the blonde hair was still thrown back half carelessly. He nursed a cup of beer, twirling the liquid inside with a practiced flick of his wrist. Theresa put a cold hand on his arm.

"Are you okay ?"

Henry nodded toward Capon's direction. "That's the guy I told you about."

"From your presentation on medieval weapons? Who swung your sword around?"

"Who else ?" He answered, eyes still trained on Capon's form.

Katherine leaned closer to them to see who Henry meant. "Oh Hans ? Hans Capon you mean?"

Henry's head whipped around. "You know him ?"

"Yeah. Born into wealth, drinks more than he studies."

Henry snorted. "I can see that..." He said in his cup, sipping the beer.

"He's in history. How come you know him ?" Bianca asked, eyes still searching for Capon's form through the crowd of dancers and drunks.

"His teacher wanted my boss and I give a presentation on our line of work and talk more about late medieval weapons. That's how I had the... displeasure, to meet that Capon guy. Vincent, my boss, and I had brought various weapons we forged and he just- picked up one without permission and started swinging it around. Almost punched the daylights out of him when he did that."

Theresa's friends all laughed, or snorted into their cups.

Bianca cleared her throat. "That does sound like him... Oh, there he goes."

Henry's eyes followed Bianca's to find the mad swordman, Hans Capon, walking through the crowd towards them with a certain familiarity. Their eyes met. Henry felt his shoulders tense. Hans had a big toothy grin on his face, stopping just a step from the couch. The cup of beer he was holding was almost empty.

"Well, what do we have here ? The blacksmith."

"Got bored of the playstore ?" Henry bit back, crossing his arms. "I doubt they have swords to fuck around with, here."

Capon's frowned at him, eyes burning with intensity. "Does it usual work? Flaunting your blacksmithing skills ? Makes all the ladies swoon ?"

Henry smirked. "I've found it's not just the ladies." He let one of his legs roll absentmindedly back and forth.

Hans Capon didn't offer him a look of disgust, like he'd expected from him. Prick and homophobic were usually a nice pair. No instead, Hans scoffed, then wet his lips with the tip of the tongue. Henry's eyes darted back to Hans' eyes.

"Y'know it doesn't take much in the head to be a blacksmith. Try to follow an university degree, see who's the cleverest of the two."

He barked a laugh. "I doubt that. Following a university degree is simple when all you do is waste your life drinking at parties. Try forging something instead, then we'll talk later."

"Asshole. Degrees are hard, it requires a lot of work." Hans pointed an accusing finger toward him, bumping the tip against his chest.

"Not when you're sober."

"Are you implying that i'm a drunkard ?!"

"Maybe, what does your degree tell you?"

Hans, red-faced, stuttered something half coherent. "Fucking blacksmith," he let out, clear as day and stormed away.

"That's what I thought." Henry said, a smile etched onto his face.

He turned his head toward the girls on the couch, to find them all snickering and ushering amongst themselves, eyes darting between him and the direction Hans left.

Theresa snorted the loudest. "I give you two three weeks." She said.

Henry eyed at her, confused. "I don't understand."

"A shame." she offered him her sweet smile. The one that meant trouble.

Chapter Text

The dining room smelt of early coffee and burnt toast.

Henry stepped down the stairs, usual steps creaking under his weight. Radzig was already on the dining room table, already dressed and ready for the day. He chewed on toast, staring at his phone with disinterest. His eyes fell on Henry.

"Hello Henry."

"Good morning." Henry said, walking toward the table.

"I toasted some more white bread for you."

Henry looked at the half burnt toast. "No, thank you. I'll take some cereal instead."

"Suit yourself, boy."

The kitchen was adjacent to the dining room, where Henry found the cereal box and milk with practiced ease. Putting the breakfast on the table, along with a bowl and spoon, Henry eyed his father. He was typing on his phone with a frown on his face.

"A problem ?" He asked as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

Radzig sighed and gulped his coffee. "Nothing important." He tossed his phone on the wooden table. "How was the party ? I heard Samuel puking all night, not even mentioning the ruckus you two made when you made it home."

If Radzig was something, it was a light sleeper. The slightest amount of noise would wake him up, yet he wouldn't bulge when those snores would come out of his hung mouth.

"Sorry Father." Radzig scoffed, he hated when Henry called him that. "The party was alright. I saw old friends there with Theresa, met some of her friends..."

Radzig smirked. "And ? Met someone interesting ?"

Henry's thoughts flashed to the mad swordman, Hans. "Not really. I did see Bianca again, though." His voice got soft.

Radzig paused for a second, then resumed chewing. He swallowed. "How was she ?"

Henry cleared his throat. "She's fine. Hasn't changed much since I last saw her. She still works at her parent's bar, but is in business."

"A business degree, huh? Makes sense if she wants to inherit the bar."

"Hm."

"And do you care to tell me what happened with Samuel ? The boy's so sick I thought he'd choke on his own puke."

Henry made a face. "No idea, we weren't together during the majority of the party. I only saw him again when it was time to go... He did spend the majority of the party in the kitchen."

Henry knew Samuel well. When drunk, he would make out with the closest person. It was both to avoid seeing his brother make out with anything that moved and to protect himself, if Samuel ever decided to turn to him. Henry suppressed a shudder. The young man didn't see any of his brother's victims, except one, a young blond man who happily made out with him. Samuel wasn't even a little gay, he was the straightest man Henry ever seen !

"In the kitchen..." Radzig echoed. "Explains his state."

Henry hummed and took a spoonful of cereal. His mind kept darting back to the conversation with Hans, the way he stomped away angrily, the red on his face that wasn't entirely the beer.

"I did see someone there." Henry eased.

Radzig's ears perked up as he looked at Henry in a way that said go on, tell me more. Sometimes the young man forgot how much his father yearns for gossip.

"Do you remember about the class I gave with Vincent at the university ?"

"Yes, I do remember you mentioning it. Did you see someone there again?" Radzig crossed his arms on the table. Henry didn't like the way he seemed eager to know more.

"There was a guy who took a sword and started playing with it like a toy after the lesson. I saw him again at the party. Apparently he's quite the popular student, in parties and the like."

Radzig seemed a bit disappointed, then laid back into his chair, humming. "What about him ?"

"Nothing." Henry didn't even know why he mentioned him. "Just an idiot I thought worth mentioning." His eyes fixed to the bowl of cereal in front of him.

Radzig eyed him, expression unreadable. He gulped coffee again. "Well, looks like he had an... effect on you."

Henry whipped his head up to him. "What." Colour faded away from his face.

"You're smiling. I've never seen you smile like that."

Henry babbled, rubbing his nose like he usually does when uncomfortable. "Well, he's a special breed of idiot. Who wouldn't smile at a clown !"

Radzig sighed, then stood up. Henry stilled as he caught a glimpse of a small smile on Radzig's face. Henry shook his head. Radzig ? Smiling about that ? Impossible.

"I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast, I have a class to teach soon." Radzig said, putting away the dirty dishes on the table.

Henry nodded his head as he shoved more cereals in his mouth in an attempt to forget this interaction.

Henry lead Pebbles to the usual corner of the workshop. The sun hadn't completely risen yet, painting the shop with a pinkish hue through the big windows. Henry looked around, and saw the empty workshop, despite the opened door. He entered the forge, where the oven hadn't yet started, the tools were still neatly put away in various opened toolboxes or hung on the naked walls. The multiple anvils were sprawled around the oven, always near, never too far. The compressor and grindstones were turned off. The tables around the wall of the workshop didn't seem trifled with. The forge laid still. Did Vincent forget to close the doors yesterday ? Henry wondered, but them, on the table near the door was Vincent's leather bag and phone. Henry's shoulder eased, letting go of a strain he did not realise he was holding. He put down his backpack on the ground next to the table.

The young man stepped towards the forge oven to start the oven up. He turned on the button, feeling the heat already starting to gather around. Then, he went to the table, where papers and pencils of a variety laid. A neat paper, far neater than the others, was on top of everything. It was the print of the email conversation between Vincent and a historical reenactment association asking for them to lend their services. Henry read the paper, with intent - he wasn't snooping around, Vincent had told him about the emails, had written a few answers with the older man who only pretended to be tech-savvy.

"Ready for work, already ?" Vincent's voice rose behind him.

Henry answered by a relieved chuckle. "I didn't see you anywhere, I thought you'd escape your wife."

"If I did, I would have taken the forge with me !" His laugh echoed deep in his chest. "If I remember correctly, the association wanted Baselards."

Henry nodded his head. "No embellishment ; just a simple handle, too."

"Well then, what are we waiting for ? I see you already started the oven." Vincent clapped, then rubbed his hands together. 

Chapter Text

The museum wasn't the biggest.

But it wasn't small, either.

Henry looked onto the old building. it was originally a military building during the wars, and it was used as the headquarters of a small garrison. The structure was on two floors, one used as the museum's exposition rooms and the other for staff and keeping the spare collection. On each side of the facade laid banners with the current exposition, about scriptoriums and medieval illumination. while the museum's staff would take one of the three rooms each year for 6 months to expose about various topics, the permanant exposition was mainly used to show medieval warfare and the different noble families' actions during the Hussite wars, and a bit before, too. Most objects were found in various archaeological digging sites around. 

Marching on the stairs, the opened double door was welcoming in its familiarity. The copper vertical handles had lost their shine after years of use. It wasn't the first time Henry went to this museum : ever since he moved there with Radzig, after his parents' passing, he found himself going there from time to time. The old cracked stone walls were familiar, and so was his stride along the ceramic floor. 
Coming to the museum was a constant in his life ever since moving in with Radzig. It offered him a way to think of something else lest the spiralling thoughts drowned him.

Entering the reception area, Henry was greeted by the receptionist. The reception area was simple cream-coloured stone walls, on which were taped various posters from old expositions. The receptionist, Janek who came from Skalitz too, offered a slight smile. Next to him, standing against the wall like some vigilante, was his best friend, Jaroslav.

"Henry ! How are you ?" Janek asked.

"Hello, I'm fine, what about you?"

"Eh, the usual. Here to look at the illuminations ? Some of them are from the old monastery near."

"That's great. Not really here for those though, the swords are more interesting." Henry said, a smile on his lips accompanied by a chuckle.

"I don't doubt it from you." Jaroslav interrupted, arms still crossed.

"Well, you know the price." Janek let out, opening the register.

"Sure I can't sneak in without paying ?" Henry eased, joke in his voice, glancing toward Jaroslav standing near the entrance.

"If you do it's my head on the line." Janek answered plainly, if not for the slight smile extending. "C'mon, it's 200 kuronas."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Henry took out a beat-up purple wallet, which was once his Ma's. Opening the latch open, Henry glanced at the old photo of his parents. It was taken in front of his old house. He recognised the window of his old room. His parents were smiling brightly at the camera, creating some crinkles of their eyes. Ma had her brown hair in a bun, wild hairs falling out to frame her face. Pa's hair was hidden under a hat, a feeble attempt at masking his balding. His beard - the likes of which Henry can only dream of growing - had been groomed and well taken care of. Right next to them was a Polaroid photo of Henry and Samuel, taken barely months before the accident in a random bar they went to. Samuel and Henry were smiling, and his brother had managed to sneak up bunny ears behind Henry's head. He never saw him smile like that again : it was a wild and mischievous smile, like he was drunk on life, and perhaps a little on beer, too. 

Henry dug out some bill from a pocket within the wallet.

"Great, here's your ticket." 

Henry closed the wallet and shoved it in his pocket. "Thanks. Don't get too bored," he said, looking back toward the reception era. 

"Too late."

Jaroslav had taken his ticket to rip it in half at the points and let him pass the doors. Henry thanked him.

The first room - the smallest one - was reserved for temporary collections. The tables were pushed against the walls, glass boxes put on top of them. Within them lied multiple old books, showing various pages mixed with old tools. Some of them had dried ink on them still.

There was no one else in the room. 

Henry stopped at a small box, in the corner of the room. He read the information panel, eyes darting between the text and the codeces resting before him. He hummed in disinterest. Manuscripts were never something he felt particularly interested in. He couldn't read them half of the time, anyway. Inside the box laid two old books, opened to show their decors. Henry chuckled as he looked closer to one : a knight had taken an axe to the head, yet he only looked merely worried of his immanent end. So was the one swinging the axe, eyes looking away toward a lady. 

"Hope it wasn't one of your own you swung your axe toward" Henry whispered, "bit awkward to explain that to the lady you're checking out : Oh I'm sorry, my Lady, I saw thine eyes and was so mesmerized I confused kin for foe ! Nice opener, though. Not sure about killing your ally."

Henry giggled to himself, smile bright and childish. 

The rest of the room was full of similar in objects. More books, more drawings Henry didn't hesitate to jab at, and a few objects detailing the process of illuminating a medieval book.

Henry eyed another illumination found in yet another opened book.

"Oh no", He said, imitating a high-pitched voice, "Mine defenseless self was caught by a dragon ! Help me !" 

"Do not fret, my lady," Henry made his voice deeper, rasping against his throat, "my wobbly sword will kill this mighty fire-breathing beast ! Nothing could ever go wrong!" Then, with a drama only a five-star actor could muster, "blah, I'm dead." Another - louder - giggle raptured from his throat.

Henry looked around to make sure he was still alone. This was stupid, perhaps he looked a little mad, but Henry couldn't find it in him to care. 

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes, Henry turned to the second room.

The two other rooms left were for the museum's permanent collection. It was mostly old weapons and old coins. The most prized object in the museum's collection was a 15th century plate armour, which was gifted to the museum, despite the fact that it was hidden away at a corner of the rooms.

The second room was the biggest, and was cut in different parts by walls, to create three smaller sections : the first section was Henry's favourite. There, on a wall, were mounted various swords and daggers and in the middle of it all, a long sword. It was very well crafted : an octagonal pommel, a finely decorated crossguard with, on it, an engraving in Latin. The blade had seen better days, the edge dull and rough, but at least the rust didn't gnaw at the blade any more. It was mounted on the wall as a trophy, a celebration of the past warrior's achievements, in a way. Who was the man ? It was probably lost to history. It could have been a very powerful knight, if Henry was to believe the amount of detail forged in that sword.

Henry remembered the first time he saw the blade. He had stayed and observed it with fascination in his eyes. His hands itched to replicate the blade himself. He could ; he had the iron and the will. The young man had observed the sword for so long, he was almost positive he could replicate it from memory. 

Turning his back, Henry caught a glimpse of the last room, and within it, a man. The young man stilled as he recognised the figure.

Mad swordsman.

Hans Capon. 

Henry found himself Walking toward him, stride confident. By how people talked about him, Henry was under the impression Hans was only ever in university because he had to, not because he was actually interested in history. 

Henry observed Hans, whose figure seemed to glow as the high window of the museum encapsulated him. His thrown-back blonde hair seemed golden, his straight nose and sharp jaw glowing with light. His eyes seemed trained on the information panel he read, a slightly hopeful, perhaps nostalgic expression in his eyes, and a slight timid smile on his lips. Henry's eyes wandered lower. Hans had adorned a red scarf and a yellow denim jacket with blue tight jeans. Black messily tied shoes closing his outfit. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, shifting his weight on his feet while digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

Henry wasn't staring.

He wasn't.

Prying his eyes away from Hans' silhouette, Henry remembered where he was. Looking around, he realised it was just the two of them in the museum. Not unexpected.

Henry slid next to Hans, following his gaze toward an information panel about the various noble families from around the region. He found himself staring at the information panel about the Pirkstein house, its crest standing proud, mounted on the wall.

"Would you look at that. I didn't take you to be actually serious about History." Henry said, throwing another glance at Hans. He stopped worrying his lower lip, which was reddened and glossy.

"I am perfectly capable of being serious !" Hans said, offended, but then added, "Well it makes us even, for I didn't know a fucking blacksmith could ever be interested in it."

Henry felt a pain in his chest in frustration. "Why wouldn't I be ?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because History is noble, and its intricacies and complexity would fly over the head of a hunk of muscle like you."

"I have more brains than you think. I'm surprised it wouldn't fly over the head of a drunkard like you."

Hans whipped his head around, face frozen in a offended expression. Henry found himself enjoying this sight.

"How dare you ! I am no drunkard !"

Henry rolled his eyes.

"The Pirkstein house, uh ? Interested in it ?"

Hans crossed his arms. If Henry's presence irritated him, it seemed like the young man didn't want to leave. henry eyed the Pirkstein crest : upon a yellow background laid what seemed to be two black arrows, crossing over one another. On top was a knight's helmet, wearing a green crest, resembling weeds, where a red fish took position over. Weird.

"Of course I'm interested in them ! It's one of the oldest noble family of the region." Hans said matter-of-factly.

"I took you for a man more interested in the warfare than noble families."

Henry recalled Hans' bored out expression in the class he gave with Vincent, and how his head whipped up as soon as the weapons' were taken out, his eagerness at swinging a sword around, like a maniac. Hans was just one of many students before, and he never knew he'd keep finding him. Henry rarely hung out with university students - their social circle simply didn't overlap.

Hans' expression turned sour for a moment. "And I took you for a blacksmith who'd prefer striking metal until he turns deaf more than learning about what weapons he's making replicas of."

Henry laughed. Hans eyed him, a frown on his face. "Of course I like learning about medieval weapons. I know more about history than you think."

"Start of the hussite wars ?"

Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes. A test ? really ? "1419."

Hans hummed. "When was Wenceslaus the fourth crowned imperor?"

"Trick question, he never was."

"Barely satisfactory. Seems like you need to learn more."

Henry arched an eyebrow.

"How about we discuss more history around a beer?" Hans asked, turning toward him. "You desperately need more history lessons, and lucky for you, I humbly offer my knowledge to you."

Henry snickered. "Sure, why not."

"Tomorrow night ?"

"It's a date, then."

Henry eyed him before refocusing on the information panel. if he told his past self he'd actually accept to drink with the mad swordsman, he might have laughed at him.

Chapter Text

"Jindra, Henry. Do not tell me you said yes."

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a big deal. 'Just a drink."

Samuel looked at him disbelievingly, mouth slightly opened.

They were both sitting at the dining room table, waiting for Henry's father in the kitchen. Their habit was to sit across from each other, Henry always at the right, Samuel always at the left, and crowning the rectangular table, was Radzig's place - who was currently vacant. On the table, there was only a glass container full of dumpling, from which some had already been scooped into Henry's plate. Samuel's plate was left empty.

"I thought you hated the man ?" Samuel sighed.

"Not necessarily. He's an arse, yeah, but I don't know him much."

Samuel leaned in, whispering. "You know, when Theresa and I told you to find someone, we didn't mean that Capon guy."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself, Theresa was thrilled when I told her."

He still remembers her very fast typing, so much so he had to decipher the typos to make out the words she meant to type, and her overuse of the eyes emoji, despite Henry's instance that it meant nothing.

"Of course she would." Samuel groaned, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Besides, it's just a beer. Nothing more. We're going to the bar next to the museum, and we'll talk... Maybe get drunk."

Radzig entered the dining room with a pot filled with beef.

"Hovězí Guláš, tonight." Radzig said, putting down the pot.

Henry was quick to snatch the spoon, serving himself a big scoop in his plate.

"Finally. I'm quite fucking hungry."

"When are you not ?" Radzig replies, and for a split second, Henry thought he was about to roll his eyes. "Pass me the dumplings at least, before you eat it all."

Samuel was quicker than Henry - probably because he wasn't busy shoving food down his throat - to give the older man the container.

"What were you two talking about ?" The father asked, putting some sliced dumplings onto his plate.

Henry gulped down his food. " I'm going to the bar tomorrow night."

"Hm. Have fun then."

"And Theresa might stop by before."

Samuel barked a loud laugh.

Radzig eyed Samuel before refocusing on Henry. "Hm. I see. I assume you're going to the bar with Theresa."

Henry shook his head, but before he could finish his mouthful to speak, Samuel interrupted him.

"No, he goes with that... history student."

Henry swallowed. "Aye, I saw him again at the Museum. We talked for a bit, he invited me to the bar, so I said "sure why not" !"

"What's his name?" Radzig asked.

"Hans Capon."

Radzig seemed to falter for a split second, fork hovering before driving into a piece of beef. "Hans Capon, you say ? As in, Hanush Leipa's nephew ?"

Henry frowned. "Maybe ? I don't know."

"Hans Capon. He's the nephew of Hanush Leipa." Radzig repeated himself.

"Should he ring a bell ?" Henry asked, shoving another piece of meat in his mouth.

"You should take closer attention to the men in our government, Henry. Hanush Leipa is a Senator."

Henry stilled in shock. Mad Swordsman's uncle was a senator ? It explained the stick up the arse attitude.

"And an old... friend of mine." Radzig finished matter-of-factly, like he hadn't dropped quite an important additional information.

It had the merit of sending Henry coughing in surprise.

"Wha- ?" Henry asked, once the coughing stopped.

Radzig rarely talked about his past. If anything, he was more tight-lipped than a spy during a war. The older man put down his cutlery before grasping his hands together in his serious pose.

Henry suppressed a roll of his eyes. There it was, the dad lesson.

"Now, for your... friend's credit, I do not know him. But I do know the... specimen, that Hanush was when we were your age. Let me tell you this, Henry : don't let that Hans rope you into dangerous things. That family has a knack for always being in trouble."

"What kind of trouble ?" Henry asked, eyes wide open, staring straight at Radzig.

"Not the illegal kind, but not the good one either." Radzig resumed eating.

Samuel whistled. "I told you he was bad news, Jindra."

"We're not friends." Henry said between chews, "It's just for a beer or two."

Samuel played around with the food in his plate. "Yeah. Right. Don't come crying to me when he'll... land you in jail"

"Hopefully it won't go past that point." Radzig said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Henry, I know you're mature enough to not rope yourself into needless danger."

So don't was clear in the silence that preceded his words. Henry swallowed another dumpling, nodding his head.

The silence stretched on, only the sound of cutlery and of food was heard.

"What bar are you going to?" Radzig asked after a moment.

"The Devil's bar, right across from the Museum."

"And Why does Theresa stop by before ? Will she pick you up ?"

Henry shook his head. "For some reason, she wants me to dress better, so that's why she's stopping by."

Radzig rasped out a laugh before biting down on his food again.

The Devil's bar was the bar not far from the town's museum. It was, in fact, across from the road of the museum.

Henry dug his hands in his pockets. The air was biting his skin, and the leather jacket he wore - Theresa had remembered it, Henry is surprised it fits him still since high school - offered little to not protection against it.

The bar's front had similar stone to the museum : old cream-coloured stones. On top of the door and the windows showing into the bar was a black sign where Devil's bar was etched in red lights. The "D" extended to create the tail of a demon, and horns were added on top of the word. On the wall were fixed multiple boards where, written in chalk, were the different drinks, some of them half wiped away by careless drunks. The few people outside were smoking, some passing a lit cigarette between them like one would gold. Through the window, the bar was already well alive. The tables were already mostly taken by people.

"Blacksmith !" Hans' voice rung in the air, voice warm.

Henry snorted and turned to him. "I have a name, you know ?"

"Blacksmith's easier."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Shall we enter, then? Or do you prefer to get drunk on moonlight."

Hans laughed. "Moonlight's not nearly as strong as alcohol, so i'll take entering."

The bar was warm, if not suffocating. The music was nice - popular pop-rock tunes - the noise hummin behind all the chatter around. The counter took most of the space, chairs aligned against it, with a rather narrow passage toward the back between the high chairs and the cushioned booths. The back of the bar was a more opened area where one could circulate better between the booths. The interior was mostly made of wood, for the exception being behind the counter, which was all blackboard with a rather well made drawing of a demon circling a pint and the price of beverages behind. The barman was around their age, sporting a high undercut, where the hair on top was left long and tied into a simple ponytail. His face was stuck in a sort of permanantly mischievous expression, like one would think a minion of Hell would look. He wasn't paying attention to Hans or Henry, preferring to joke with a rather dunk older man on the chair.

"Barman ! Two Kozel beers." Hans threw to the wind.

Thankfully, the barman heard and nodded, coming to execute the thing with practiced ease, filling them to the brim.

"60 kuronas, 30 each." The barman said, a Polish accent thick in his voice.

Money paid and drink in hand, Henry looked around the bar. On the corner of the bar was a small booth, unoccupied. The cushions seemed old, and the leather was cracked. It seemed to be a good spot to discuss. Right next to it were a bunch of stairs hidden by a modest curtain with a "authorized only" sign.

He gestured toward the table. "There ?"

"That shall be satisfactory." Hans said, putting down the beer with a clank on the table.

Henry eyed the room from the cushioned seat. Most people were talking loudly and laughing, some spilling and drinking whatever they had in hand. The corner was well placed ; the noise of the bar wasn't as loud, and they could hear each other better. Next to them, on the wall, were mounted several kind of vintage adds for beers and crude drawings of demonesses in alluring outfits.

"Seems lovely." Henry said, refocusing attention on the man in front of him.

Hans still wore his hair waved back, a grin on his face as he also looked around, arm thrown back on the back of the chair. The red scarf hung at his neck, but instead of the yellow jacket he wore at the museum, it was a lazily buttoned up yellow-green shirt, showing his collarbones to the world.

"Quite. I used to go there with friends."

Henry nodded. "What happened, then?"

"Pardon?" Hans said, turning his head to face Henry once more.

"I said what happened?"

Hans waved his hand in dismissal. "They were a bunch of arseholes. Only wanted to be my friends for the money."

Henry took a gulp of beer. "Seems about right for arseholes."

"And what about you, Henry ?"

The man stilled. He didn't think Hans would have remembered his name.

"Well, being a blacksmith it means my colleagues are either old or straight up were my Pa's friends. Friends from elementary is complicated, most of them stayed in Skalitz. I mainly got Theresa, my best friend and my brother Samuel here."

"Oh, you're from Skalitz? I've been there once or twice."

"Hm. And you ?"

"Polna. A bit far, but my family has... ties to this city. We have a familial house there, since generations." He said that last part with a exagerrated posh attitude, like he had heard it from the mouths of holier-than-thou people far too often.

Henry snorted. "You go there often, I assume ?"

"Not really. The house's still there, do not fret. I do miss the archery range, though."

Henry looked at him and couldn't stop the surprised sigh from escaping his throat. "Archery ?"

Hans' smile widened. "Yes, Blacksmith. Archery. Been doing it ever since I could hold a bow."

"I wouldn't have guessed by the way you handle a blade."

Hans gasped. "I'm merely uneducated in sword fighting techniques. Besides, wielding a blade and a bow is very different."

"Want me to teach you ?" Henry said, words slipping out without much of a thought.

"You know how to swordfight ?"

"Yes."

"You're yanking my pizzle." Hans said, leaning toward Henry, then going back to lean against the cushioned rest. "No way a blacksmith would know how to swordfight."

"Yet here I am." Henry gestured toward himself. "So ?"

Hans took a sip of his beer. It was already halfway empty. "How could I possibly refuse kicking your arse in combat?"

Henry laughed then gulped a part of his beer. "We'll see about that."

Hans wiped his mouth. "Talking about that, what got you into blacksmithing?"

"My Pa used to be a blacksmith. I've been forging things ever since I was a child, almost."

"Retired ?"

"Dead." Henry answered, taking a long sip of his beer, as if to make the point stand longer.

When Henry looked at Hans face, he was prepared to see pity, perhaps sadness or surprise like he'd seen so many times. All of which he felt a detached anger at, boiled down to indifference by the repetitive strike of years passing by. What he found was nothing but an unbothered face, glass of beer in hand, sip at the ready. The expression at his face was one of detached familiarity, as if he too went through similar things. The only sound was a low hum from Hans' throat.

"Can't live forever, can you ?" Hans said after a small silence.

"S'pose not." Henry shurgged. "Why history?" it was his turn to ask.

Hans sighed. "Why anything else ? History is the only thing that is worth my time. I get to learn about interesting things and shit on today's society in favour of the good old days."

"The good old days of dying at age 30."

That earned a laugh from Hans. "Skewed statistic. If they survived childhood, they lived quite a long time."

Henry rolled his eyes, snorting into his cup. "If."

The world spinned on itself.

Well, more than it usually does, Henry found.

The heat on his right was pressed right against his flank, accompanied by a learn arm hooked over his shoulders. Hans struggled to stand next to him, and let his weight fall limply against Henry's equally struggling body.

The only sound between them were of drunken giggles and slurred words none but the two could understand.

It felt... right.

The cold air bit their skin, yet the flush of alcohol made it seem warm, pleasently so. Henry had drunkenly called a very annoyed brother - and for the good reason. No one wants to be woken up at 2 am by a screaming drunk brother. And so here they were, waiting on the sidewalk, reeking of beer and repeting jokes.

"No but- but, wait Henry. You do realise how hilarious it is?" Hans said, wiping a tear from his eyes, words slurring together. "The guy fucking left- and 15 minutes later they attacked !"

Henry giggled as well. What was funny in this story again ? The reason was lost in the alcohol sloshing around their bellies.

"Just to check on the main army cause he was fuckin' bored." Hans continued, barking a laugh that could wake the neighbourghood.

Henry recognised the car stopping in front of them. Through the window, Samuel's usual scowl seemed harder.

"Shaaam !" Henry slurred. "Hey- hey Hans ! Hans ! See that's my brother I told you about."

Hans refocused enough, eyes fixing the car with difficulty.

"He doesn't look like you at all ! Are you so drunk you don't recognise your brother ?" Hans pointed a finger toward Samuel.

Samuel rolled his eyes and opened the cardoor to get out. "Seems you two had fun. Get in, the party's over."

Hans protested, but made no move to actually get out of Henry's slowed but strong grasp. Fumbling with the seatbelt, Hans was strapped - or trapped, according to his protestation. Samuel then helped Henry next to him, on the passenger seat.

Samuel eyed Hans from the rearview mirror. "Where do you live drunkard ?"

Hans' head shot up. "I'm not a drunkard !" A pause. "It's the fuckin red and white building."

"Near the university ?"

"No in fucking Greenland- where else ?"

Samuel rolled his eyes and ignited the car. "If any of you puke in the car, I'll make you clean it with your tongue."

That earned a gag from Henry. "Please don't."

"You know I will."

Chapter Text

Fucking blacksmith : I finish work at 16 so we can meet up at the forge right after im done? my house is within walking distance

Eager much for a good beating ? Fine with me, I have no classes this afternoon. Give me the address.

Fucking blacksmith : well see about that
Fucking Blacksmith : 147 56 Jan Hus - its the workshop with a beat up van parked in front.

Great. Hope you won't reek too much.

Fucking blacksmith : i wouldnt worry
Fucking blacksmith : youll smell worse once im done with you

Hans read the last exchange again. The van was where Henry said it would : an old white van with a name on the backdoors was parked right in front of the workshop. It took quite a beating, several dents and scratches were gathered around the edges and the back of the van.

Hans pretended to be very busy staring at the road, patiently standing with his back pressed against the wall of the workshop. It didn't look anything like what he imagined a forge to be. The video games must have lied to him then. If Hans strained his ears, he could faintly hear the rhythmic strikes inside the workshop, both perfectly in unison like some practiced song they rehearsed.

The wind blew harder, whipping the cold against Hans' face and unprotected ears. Venturing his hand out of the warmth of his pockets, Hans readjusted the scarf around his neck.

Hopefully the wind would be kinder when they'll start.

Hans felt the low hum of excitement in his guts, spreading to tingle at his fingers - or that might have been from the cold. He felt like a toddler again, when watching those knights fight and spew intricate prose on the meaning of honour and duty. Perhaps the kind of speech his own ancestors would give. Wielding a blade gave him the same kind of rush as loosing an arrow. Easiness, and most importantly, the sort of feeling where the world would still, like it held a breath waiting for the blow to land - for the arrow to sink into the target.

The young man looked around, peeking through the window of the forge. Hans' eyes were grew bigger as he managed to peek into the forge from where he was. The oven - was it called like that ? - was open and red, flames engulfing a blade which was held by Henry. He held it from the farthest point with practiced familiarity. His face looked at the flame, a smile on his face as his lips curled around words Hans couldn't hear. His skin glistened a bright red with the flames, shirt sticking to his chest, leaving little to the imagination. Hans' mouth hanged open. He knew Henry's strength - he remembered it when he stopped Hans' swing with the long sword, - it stilled immediately after, like Henry had whispered to the steel. Hans remembered even more when Henry's heat and the muscles under his shirt strained when they were standing outside the bar, drunk, waiting for his brother. Vividly the strength Henry used to guide Hans' drunk body into the car. But seeing it with two very real eyes was... different.

Hans forced himself to look away, unlocking his phone to check the time. 15:54.

Six minutes to wait.

When the young man looked through the window again, Henry had disappeared, and so was the blade heating inside the oven. His body relaxed a tension he couldn't explain, nor could he explain the slight disappointment grasping the bottom of his heart.

Voices rose closer to the entrance of the shop. One of them was Henry's, the other, Hans deduced, was Vincent Veselý's. The voice were too muffled for him to understand.

"Don't go too hard on the poor boy !" The raspier voice of the two announced, closer.

The door opened. "I won't, unless he gives me a reason to !" Henry's voice answered, laughing.

Henry's figure stepped out of the forge, wearing another new shirt. He held an old, fucked up bike in his hands, guiding it onto the pavement. His face morphed into surprise as he acknowledged Hans' presence, before his lips quivered into another different kind of smile.

"And yet you said I was the eager one." Henry said simply.

"Merely being polite." Hans said. "What's the bike for ?"

Henry mounted it, then gestured. "Unless you want to walk behind me cycling, get on."

Hans made a face. What kind of person did this blacksmith take him for ? No way he would get onto his dirty, fucked up bike and risk a stupid injury.

Hans opened his mouth. "No way I'm getting on, blacksmith."

"Then walk." Henry said as he began to slowly cycle away.

Hans gasped, feeling the shame creeping around his head. This fucker. "Fine you yokel ! I'll get on your bike."

Henry stopped, turning back with a mischievous smile on his face. "Then what are you waiting for ?"

Hans awkwardly shuffled into the bike, unsure of where to put his hands, or his feet. Hans' body was pressed against Henry's back. It felt... weird. His body was warm and smelling faintly of deodorant, with an underlining of heat and iron.

"Put your feet on the back rest," Henry indicated. "And hang onto my chest, or else you'll lose balance, and we'll both fall."

Hans obeyed, struggling to find the foot rest at first. Then, tentatively, he circled his arms around Henry's waist. His fingers slid against the firm muscles underneath, and for a moment Hans thought his head would explode. Henry started pedalling slowly. It was awkward. The bike would strain, sway with the unequal weight of the two combined.

Henry turned right, confidently circling through the road slowly. Thankfully, there were no cars passing by, so the bike could comfortably take most of the road, to avoid swaying into parked cars.

A particularly bad sway made Hans squeeze Henry harder. The latter chuckled, and Hans felt every muscle move under the soft exhale.

"Scared much?" Henry asked.

"Shut up ! I never rode a bike with someone else !"

"Don't worry, you're handling it like a king."

Hans exhaled sharply, looking at the buildings passing as a mean of distraction.

Henry stopped the bike in front of a two-story house : the outside was painted a pale blue. It seemed quite old, with windows greyed by pollution. It was far from the kind of house Hans was used to living in.

"Here it is."

Hans dismounted the bike with difficulty. "Fucking finally. Never am I doing it again."

"I'll hold you to it." Henry answered.

He guided the bike to the garage that he opened. He gestured to Hans to follow him. The garage smelt weird - a combining smell of moisture and cold air. Shelves were built all around the walls, sporting a multitude of objects ; tools, boxes. On the opposite wall, though, was something that immediately drew all of Hans' attention. Forged knifes and swords were exposed on the wall, shown with much pride. At that moment, Hans almost felt jealous.

"How many weapons does a blacksmith need ?" Hans said, scoffing.

"More than you think !" Henry replied in jest.

The young man guided the old bike to a corner, before turning to an old desk filled with different toolboxes and the likes. Digging out an old box from underneath, Henry wiped away the dust settled there. The box was old, clearly repurposed for holding whatever was in it. Henry held it underneath his arm. If it weight a lot, he didn't seem to mind.

"I'll teach you in the garden." The young man gestured toward a door, tucked in a corner of the garage.

The garden was not quite one. If anything, it was more like an abandonned part of nature, more than a garden in the strict sense, a garden like back in Polna ; neat alleys and rows of flowers, trees and, when he was younger, swings - which disappeared almost as soon as he turned ten.

Henry continued to walk away from the house, pushing a old rusty fencegate open.

"I call it garden, but it's not ours. It's the forest. We'll have plenty of space there."

"If you plan to kidnap me for ransom money, your plan is shit." Yet Hans followed him begrudgingly. What else to do but follow him ?

"Aw. I tried really hard this time."

"This time ? Were there others ?"

Henry only looked back toward him, smiling. Hans couldn't stop the smile on his face.

They eventually stopped not so far from the house. There was a small even space with little trees around. The place seemed to have been cleaned - or rather, cleared as much as one can in a forest.  A space was delimited by tree trunks and stones and the likes. On a spot, the ground was slightly charred, like a fireplace was made there. It just needed the treehouse, and this would have been a perfect hang out spot - minus the dirt on the ground, and wet dirty tree trunks. The circle ended by a tall tree, casting a shadow over it all.

"Readied the place up for me, uh?" Hans teased.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Calm your ego, it might explode."

"Yokel."

"Is that a new word you recently learned ? You keep repeating it like a toddler with his first words."

"Fuck you, blacksmith."

"Oh, a new word as well ! They grow up so quickly."

Hans felt his face heat up. "Just pass me the sword and get on with it, you yo- you oaf !"

Henry laughed, shoulder shaking as his hands busied around the cardboard box. He pulled out two swords - wooden.

"Wooden swords, really ?"

"Disappointed much, Sir Hans ? Perhaps His Highness would have preferred iron swords ?"

"Well yes. Obviously !"

"Not happening." Henry said as he extended the wooden handle toward Hans.

The young man took it quite violently from Henry's hands, grumbling a few protests under his breath. Henry took the second one and walked back further into the circle. His eyes didn't leave Hans. Hans struck - He didn't let Henry wait, and immediatly aimed at his chest. Before it could even come - Henry had blocked it.

"You're not even going to let me explain ?" He complained, a smile on his lips.

"What is there to explain ?" Hans replied, driving a new strike again - deflected. "Swing and block, that's all there is."

Pain bloomed on his leg as Henry hit him there quick - quicker than Hans could  register. Stilling himself, Hans struck again, aiming for Henry's shoulder - deflected. Then, again, the other sword drove into his shoulder, then leg then stomach. Hans couldn't deflect properly. Feeling anger gnawing at his bones, Hans aimed toward his stomach, at full force. Deflected just as easily - then pain bloomed at his flank, where Henry's sword hit.

"Quite confident for one who's never done this. Yet I'm beating you so easily." Henry said, seemingly unaffected, despite Hans heaving for air.

"Fine, blacksmith. I'll hear what you have to say."

Henry put his sword across his shoulders, then walked backwards to the center of the rim. The smug grin didn't leave his face.

"First lesson. You should always stay moving. If you stay unmoving, the enemy could take advantage of it."

He started to walk in a circle, gesturing Hans to do the same. Then, he grasped at the sword with his two hands. Hans gripped firmly the sword, imitating Henry's stance. They paced around, staring each other in the eyes.

"Now strike me. Put your whole strength into it, do not hold back. Strike from any direction you want."

Hans obeyed, striking from the left. Henry was quick to see him coming, and deflected it with ease.

"Again." Henry ordered.

From the bottom right - deflected. Hans felt his guts churning with frustration.

"Not bad. Keep at it, be unpredictable. It's your greatest strength."

From the top - Henry simply stepped aside. Hans gripped his handle firmer before driving the tip of the blade forward. His adversary deflected it.

'Nice one. I wasn't prepared. Now. I'm going to attack, and you're going to deflect them. I'll go slowly."

Henry prepared a blow on the left, going slow enough so that Hans saw it coming - he deflected it with his sword. Henry nodded, then struck to the right which Hans easily blocked. Then, faster, Henry's sword lunged from the bottom left- Hans barely caught it, swords hitting together in a blunt sound.

"Not bad. Let's try a real duel now."

They continued to circle around, when Henry suddenly stepped forward to strike him. Hans managed to deflect it, before driving the tip forward. His opponant was quick to defend himself. Hans stepped toward Henry, driving the sword for the bottom - deflected - then changed trajectory to hit the flank. His grin widened as he stared at Henry's unprotected ribs. The sword was knocked out of its trajectory, hitting the wood of the other sword. Henry prepared a strike to his right, just as Hans was about to react, the sword came in contact with his arm.

The sensation lingered longer than it should, as Hans, frustrated, tried to lunge at Henry again, but was met with another miss : sword on sword. He tried again, striking from the bottom right. Henry avoided it just as easily. Hans' attack came just after, coming from the left. The sword was about to drive into Henry's body, if his opponant didn't deflect then drew the tip of the sword right into Hans' sternum, knocking the breath out of him.

Hans felt his body move backwards, landing ass on the ground, Henry standing over him.

"I surprised you there, didn't I?" Henry said, face open with glee.

Henry extended a hand toward him. Hans hesitated, but took it nonetheless : Henry pulled him from the ground in one swift motion. He wiped the dirt off of his jeans.

"If these are stained, I swear, Henry, I'll make you clean them."

"Not my fault you fell." Henry said with a shrug.

Hans picked up the wooden sword from the ground, wiping it carelessly.

"Again." Hans ordered.

Henry's smile grew wider.

Strike.

Deflect.

Strike.

Hans' arms were aching, his eyes strained on Henry's form, ready to see any attack coming from the man in front of him. Henry's smile didn't falter with each strike and block they exchanged. Gripping his sword harder, Hans' form shifted to prepare a blow -it almost landed, if his opponant wasn't quick to deflect it. He gritted his teeth then when he was ready to strike again - An idea.

Hans gripped Henry's arm then quickly hooked a leg behind his knee, sending the two of them tumbling on the ground, Hans' sword pressing lightly against Henry's throat.

Victory.

Hans didn't stop the grin from splitting his face, despite his lungs aching for a breath, and his shoulders straining under his own weight.

"Got you, fucking blacksmith." Hans said. Their face was close from one another : so close infact, Henry probably felt each syllable coming from Hans' mouth.

Henry looked at him, face melting into acceptance. "Well done. I definitively didn't expect that." He whispered.

Hans became suddenly aware of the strain of Henry's chest, heaving with each breath, how his face was painted a light pink - was it from effort or from something else ? Their legs were tangled with each other, hips not quite aligned with each other. Hans let his head fall next to Henry's neck, breathing heavily into the skin there - Henry's whole body shuddered. The young man tried to untangle himself, to get out of Hans' weight and grasp. The latter climbed up to his feet again, then, mirroring what Henry had done, extended a hand toward Henry. His face was redder than before, and his hand cupped where Hans' breath had come down his neck just a second ago. Then, perhaps when he reminded himself of where he was, Henry took the extended hand. His body was much more heavy than his- and it took Hans more strength than he thought to help him on his feet.

Hans' phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. A new message from Hanush.

Uncle Hanush : Do not forget my visit at 18h.

Fuck. He forgot.

"Sakra," Hans said outloud.

He quickly typed an answer : I know, uncle.

It was already 17:40.

"Kurva," He said louder.

"A problem ?" Henry's voice eased, wiping the dirt off of his pants.

"My uncle is coming to see me in 20 fucking minutes."

Henry's face stilled in worry. "Here ?"

"No you yokel, at my place. I need to fucking hurry home."

"You should go then."

Hans angrily typed an uber request as he put down the wooden sword. "Yeah I will. I'll get an uber."

He began to look around, shoving his various belongings into his pockets, then hurried back toward Henry's house.

"Hey- Henry !" Hans whipped around to look at the young man. Henry was already gathering the swords.  "There's a party next Friday - I expect to see you there ! I'll text you the address !"

And with that, Hans hurried away before his uncle could catch him not being home.

Chapter Text

"When will you stop acting like a spoiled brat ?!" Hanush's voice boomed in the flat.

Hans was pretty sure all his neighbours were ears against the wall, gasping at the new gossip readily available for them.

"I understand wanting to meet friends and such - I have been a young university student as well, but I did not enrol you in this university for you to waste it all in parties and drinks !"

Oh, how much Hans wanted to turn off his hearing at this moment. He will leave this exchange with a few points of audition lost anyway. Hanush paced in front of him, fingers pinching the nose of his bridge, head red in anger. Hans just stayed where he was, sitting down, unmoving, eyes fixed on his uncle's pacing. He had, after all, mastered the art of looking like he gave a fuck when, in fact, the fields of fucks to give had been emptied.

"Listen." Hans suppressed a very bad glare - when Hanush started anything with this word, it was not a good thing. "You want to meet new people, to waste your times at parties ? Fine."

Hans' perfectly practiced mask of attention slipped to reveal honest surprise and curiosity. Was Hanush finally letting him go about taking back his father's company ?

 Hans opened his mouth. "What is-"

"Did I allow you to speak to me ? You shut your mouth, and listen to me." Hanush' voice cut him off instantly.

Hanush sighed, then stopped his pacing to look into Hans' eyes. His hands came to rest on the table between them.

"If you're not going to take an interest in logistics, fine. If you feel more the social part, then invite your future associates to your parties."

Hans mentally scoffed. Invite his associates in his parties ? He's not going to turn a chance to get black-out drunk into a professional fucking dinner ! Hans stayed silent.

Hanush waved his hands. "Speak your mind, boy."

Speak his mind ? Not speak his mind ? Which one was it, old man ?! Hans thought clearly. Definitively not saying that part... was added a few seconds later.

"Parties are not supposed to be a fucking professional dinner, uncle." Hans hissed. "Do you really think we just sit around and have polite small talk ? No ! I won't fucking invite your associates to ruin the whole evening."

Hanush became redder than he already was. "Do not speak to your elders that way, boy ! Do you think this is fun for me to manage your finances and your father's company while honouring his last wish ? Do you think I do it because I like it ?"

"No one fucking asked you to !" Hans bit back. "Do you think I give two shits about my father and what he wanted for me ?"

"Do not disrespect your father's memory !" Hanush yelled at Hans. "Listen, boy, and listen clear ! One of your associate has a daughter called Jitka. I have her phone number, and you are going to call her, and invite her to one of your social events! Understood ?"

"But-"

"This is non-negotiable !" Hanush yelled one final time, then slammed a folded paper on the table between them.

Hanush's eyes bore into Hans'. Hans rolled his tongue in his mouth like he would always do when annoyed, then slammed his hand on the table on top of the paper before slowly dragging it to him, the friction causing a high-pitched noise at the time. 

He looked at the number inscribed in the paper. The hand was unfamiliar to him. He quickly typed the number in.

"Call. Her." Hanush said.

"Sending her a message." Hans replied, typing away at his phone.

"Don't you know nothing ? Calling is more professional."

"Texting doesn't interrupt her very serious studies." Hans bit back, then pressed sent.

Hanush pinched the bridge of his nose again, before muttering something under his breath.

"I am done here." His uncle declared. "See you next week."

"As always." Hans said, hands waving dismissively.

The door slammed.

Hans was now all alone in his student flat. The storm had passed through, leaving the flat in damned stillness. He hated the silence.

How about we schedule another sword fight tomorrow ? I finish classes at 17.

The answer was almost immediate.

Fucking Blacksmith : another chance at beatin your arse ? sure

Fucking Blacksmith : do you want to meet up at the forge again ?

Whatever gets me with a sword the fastest. And avoids me sitting on your damned bike.

Hans couldn't avoid the bike.

Damn it all.

The old tires screeched when Henry pressed the brakes in front of the same blue house. Henry opened the door to the garage to put down the bike. This time, a black car took most of the place inside the garage. The same old box was now sitting on top of the table. He was still jealous of the weapons mounted on the wall.

Henry wiped his hands. "I'll be right back. I need to talk to Radzig really quick."

"No need, I'm right here." An older voice answered from behind them. "I saw you coming with a friend of yours."

"Oh well. Hans and I are going to go in the forest with the wooden swords for a bit."

"Hans, you say? Nice meeting you." His face was emotionless, if not for a hint of detached boredom. Henry's open face looked like an illustrated book in comparison.

"And you as well." Hans answered, smile practiced and polite.

"I must warn you : with those clouds, you won't last long. It'll start raining soon." Radzig said, looking briefly outside to check the clouds.

Henry shrugged. "It's just for a bit. We'll come inside if it's starts raining."

Radzig started walking back. "Well. I'll leave you to it." He closed the door of the garage.

"Thanks." Henry said louder as a relative darkness engulfed them.

The young man grabbed the old cardboard box again and opened the door.

The clouds were hanging low, tainting the sky of a deep grey, hiding the sun and its light away. The circle had not changed much since yesterday.  The tree trunk were still dirty, but they at least weren't wet any more. Henry opened the cardboard box and took out two swords, leaning in, Hans peeked inside : there were more. The young man put the box against the tree, standing upright and leaning on the tree trunk. He extended a sword toward Hans, who took it in earnest. He dug out the phone out of his pockets, balancing it on the uneven surface of the fallen tree trunk.

"Remember my lessons?" Henry asked, slowly walking in a circle. Hans mirrored him.

Hans stepped forward to strike the left. Henry quickly moved to deflect it.

"Of course I do, now fight me !" Hans gritted his teeth before lunging another attack from the bottom right.

Henry stepped inside and struck - the sword hit Hans' flank. The pain tingled, but Hans ignored it. If anything, the pain was a good distraction. Henry tried another strike from above, but Hans deflected the blow in time, before he retaliated, pushing the tip of the sword into Henry's sternum. Hans' eyes flashed toward Henry's face. It was frozen in concentration, the kind of concentration when you're trying to figure something out. Pain bloomed in his stomach, then another hit landed on his arm, striking hard enough to make the sword in his hand falter. His anger ran hotter.

"You're distracted." Henry said simply.

"Shut up and fight." Hans hissed, striking Henry's flank.

Henry deflected it with ease, yet did not strike back. His mistake. Hans stepped forward, preparing to land a blow from the top. Henry's stance shifted to block it - then Hans suddenly changed position to strike left, striking Henry's stomach. The sound of wood hitting flesh was exhilarating. Hans stepped again to strike the right. Henry managed to deflect it with difficulty. Another blow from the bottom right - Henry took a step back and deflected it late. Hans gripped his sword, arms aching with the strength gnawing his muscles. He struck a final time from the top. The swords hit each other - sound deafening in Hans' ears. They stayed frozen in place, Hans forcing more strength to drive the sword lower, while Henry resisted, swords shaking under both of their duelling strengths.

Henry's sword suddenly gave out as, because of Hans' own strength, the latter lost balance and stumbled forward. He was still on his feet. Henry had slipped out and was behind him. Whipping his body around, Hans barely had time to deflect a strong blow coming for his left arm. Henry struck again from the bottom right - Hans managed to deflect it, then drove the tip of the sword into Henry's stomach again. His opponent blocked then struck again from the top - Hans deflected then swung full force into Henry's right flank - deflected. He grabbed Hans' arm.

The ground gave out from Hans' feet - Henry had hooked a leg under his knee, a mirror to what Hans had done last duel. His head hid the soft dirt roughly, Henry's weight pinning him to the ground. His sword arm was held firmly by the other's hand, heat radiating from it, contrasting with the cold ground metting the skin.

"Something's wrong." Henry said, eyes boring into Hans' soul.

"Nothing's wrong, blacksmith."

"Something is wrong, and you're going to tell me."

"Let me go, you fucking yokel !" Hans struggled against his grasp.

"Fine. But we won't keep duelling if you don't either tell me what's wrong, or calm down."

Henry got up on his feet, but not before ripping Hans' sword from his hand. He sat on the tree trunk, swords in hand. Hans got up from the ground, glaring at Henry, who looked back.

"So ?" Henry said.

"Why do you care anyway ?" Hans spat.

"I care because you're using me like your personal punching bag. I wouldn't care so much if you would tell me why."

Hans' face was deformed by the anger seizing his veins.

"You wouldn't understand." He said, absentmindedly scratching an old bruise. The pain felt welcoming.

" Well, I can try to. C'mon. Empty your bag."

Hans groaned in annoyance. "I asked for another sword fight to let go of my nerves, not talk like a girl."

Henry rolled his eyes. "So something's been frustrating you ?" Henry asked, then his face shifted as he seemed to remember something. "Is it about your uncle ? What was his name again ? Hanush?"

Hans stilled. He distinctively remembered never telling Henry his uncle's name.

"You know about him, don't you?" Hans said accusingly.

He thought Henry was different, that he was around him not because of his family, but because he fucking wanted to. Kurva. They were all the same. Every single one of them.

"Radzig told me. Your uncle was his friend during their university years."

Hans glared harder as anger swelled around his limbs. He needed to punch, kick or do something. He settled on digging his nails into fists.

"Is that why you're friend with me, huh? For Hanush to keep an eye on me?" Hans' voice rose.

Henry's expression morphed into confusion. If this was an act, it was a good one. Once Hans accused them, they would usually back down and admit, apologize. One had even double down, even when caught in his lies.

"What ? Has your uncle really asked people to be your friends so he can spy on you ?" 

"Wouldn't be the first time. Certainly not the last." Hans said grimly. His jaw grew more tense.

Hans picked up his phone to leave.

"You know why I accepted going to the bar with you in the first place ?" Henry eased. Hans stilled himself. Looking at him, the expression on his face was of openness. "I accepted it because, as much of an insufferable arse you can be, I enjoy talking with you. The bantering and everything. Even how your face becomes red when you can't think of a good answer. Your uncle has nothing to do with it. The only reason why I heard of your uncle is because when I mentioned you by name to Radzig, he was the one to told me who he was."

Hans eyed him, anger shrinking, but present nonetheless. Something gripped him at his heart.

"You could be lying for all I know." Hans double-down. They were always the same.

"But I'm not." Henry said. His eyes fixed Hans, open, clear with honesty. His eyes didn't shift, weren't cast down, no nothing.

Honesty, Hans realised.

Defeated, he shoved his phone in his pocket and sat next to Henry on the tree trunk. Their knees were brushing against each other. Hans cast his eyes to the ground below him.

"I don't want to talk about it." He said, eyes looking at a leaf on the ground. an ant crawled on top of it.

"Then we won't." Henry said. "Sorry if I... made you feel like you had to talk about it." He let out, voice small.

"Whatever." Came Hans' reply.

They stayed together, sitting in relative silence for a few minutes, perhaps more. Their wooden swords were abandoned next to the fallen tree trunk, from which they were both sitting on. The circle had the remnant of their fight ; misplaced rocks, trails of shoes and sword tips carved in the dirt. The forest was silent, if not for the breeze shaking gently the trees. Everything was still and silent.

Hans still fucking hated it.

"Why was the archeologist always in trouble?" Henry asked suddenly.

Hans looked at him, eyebrows frowned.

"Why was the archeologist always in trouble?" He repeated.

"Why ?"

"He had a tendency of unearthing secrets." Henry let out a chuckle.

Hans snorted. "It's not funny."

"But you laughed."

"Merely out of politeness." Hans smiled.

Henry looked at him, eyes widening in surprise.

"You know, I've never seen you smile like that before." He said.

Chapter Text

The slam of a door against a wall suddenly broke the silence in Henry's dark room. Light filtered through the room as he shifted away from it. The bed was comfortable. He didn't have nightmares this time. 

"Henry. Get up." Samuel said.

"What's happening ?" Henry asked. The warmth of the bed was amazing. He dug himself deeper into them.

"Henry. What day are we?"

Henry frowned. His thoughts were drowsy, hard to differentiate between days or months.

"Wednesday ?"

No, that was yesterday.

"Saturday morning."

Henry cracked his eyes open, the light blinded him. "Yeah. I'm waking up. Get out of my room."

Samuel walked back, closing the door, then the door suddenly opened for a hand to snake in, and flip the main light switch on. Henry was blinded by the artificial light boring into his eyes.

"Little help." Samuel said before closing the door for good.

Every other Saturdays, Samuel's biological mother, Sara, would make the trip down to the town to come see him. It would usually be around lunchtime, so they'd go to a restaurant, then she would leave again. Samuel and Henry took the habit of spending the morning before together. It started small : sitting around in the forest until Radzig would come search for Samuel. Then, when the car was available and Samuel or Henry could drive, the distance grew.

Henry slipped on the clothes he wore the day before. They didn't smell, it was alright. He slipped a bathing short as well as his phone and charger in his old backpack. Henry made a mental note to take sunscreen from the bathroom. He opened the blinds to let the Saturday light in his room. The sky was bright and clear, with little to no clouds. The sun was slowly conquering the sky, bright and yellow. The crescent moon was still up and about as well.

The dining room smelt of sourdough bread. Radzig must have tossed it in the oven to freshen it. Samuel was already sitting at the table, shoving slices of bread in his mouth. He was swiping and occasionally typing on his phone. Radzig was reading a book, pencil in hand, with detached concentration. He looked up when the stairs creased under Henry's weight.

"Good morning, Henry." Radzig said.

"Hello." He answered, voice still drowsy with sleep.

He sat at the table and took a piece of sourdough bread to spread butter on top.

"So, where are you two heading ? It's a nice day to spend outside, I admit." Radzig said while underlining something on the book.

Henry eyed its cover. It had a title written in bold letters, mimicking the Czech flag. Behind it was a black and white photo of a man in a suit who was looking to the side, face serious. Perhaps it was another book published by a politician. Henry bit down on his breakfast.

"To the river downtown." Samuel answered. "It's nice and hot enough to go for a swim."

Radzig hummed. He flipped a page, then circled something in earnest. "Have fun, then."

"I took the sunscreen and towels from the bathroom. They're already in the bag." Samuel said, mid-chew.

Henry nodded and took another slice of sourdough bread to eat.

Samuel stopped the car off in a small gravelly part off of the side of the road. The river was passing right below a small bridge a few meters away from them. The sun had risen in the time it took them to finish breakfast and to drive there, though it wasn't far from the house. Henry left the car seat, slamming the car door shut behind him. The birds were singing around them, hidden in the trees surrounding the side of the road. The river bank was made of stones, spreading underwater. The water slowly sloshed around, sliding around the rocks in quiet reverence.

Samuel opened the car boot to take out the bags. It was mostly spare clothes, towels, and sunscreen.

"Lock the car. The keys are in my pocket." Samuel said, shifting to show which pocket he was talking about.

Henry shoved a hand in Samuel's pockets, then when he found the car keys, pressed on the lock button.

The brothers walked to the river, taking a downhill path made by years of use : the water was lower than the ground of the road, making it a good spot for bathing in privacy. The river wasn't too deep, the rocks dulled by the water sanding down their edges. The forest still engulfed the river around, especially on the opposite river bank. The plants were caressing the moving water, a tree had broke and had partially fallen into the water, swaying with the current. 

The pebbles underneath their feet were round and cold. The bag had been abandoned between them, Samuel already stripping down to his swim trunks. Henry dug out his towel, an old yellow and blue pattern interwoven on the fibres, faded out. Henry laid it out on the ground, then began stripping as well.

"Excited to see your mother for lunch ?" Henry asked, though he knew the answer.

"Very." Samuel said sarcastically, no emotions in his voice. He threw down half carelessly his towel on the ground. It was green and black, thought the black had faded into grey.

Henry stretched, shoving his clothes to the side with his foot. He looked at Samuel, then gestured to the river. 

The water was cold. It was licking around Henry's ankles, as he stepped carefully to avoid the algae spreading around the stones. Samuel was next to him, crouching down to take a handful of water and spreading it on his neck and upper arms. Henry winced as the cold crept higher on his body. He bent down to cup some water into his hands to splash around on his body.

"Hey" Samuel interjected.

Henry raised his head - water suddenly slammed against his body and head as Samuel laughed. The coldness clung to his chest and head, where the water had hit him. He scowled before launching water at Samuel's body in retaliation.

"You arse." Henry said.

Another wave hit his body, but he reflexively pulled his hand up to shield himself. Samuel was grinning, gesturing with his hand in animosity. Come at me, his gesture meant, do your worst. His brother was deeper into the river than him, Water sloshing around his hips. Henry moved into the middle of the river, ignoring the way his body froze and shook with the surrounding ice-cold water. The water on his body made going deeper easier, at least. Samuel eyed him with this proud, mischievous expression on his face. Henry roughly pushed the water at him, a wave hitting him perfectly on his smug grin. His brother turned his head in time, wiping the water off of his eyes. Henry braced for the water as Samuel answered back - and they continued back and forth, trying to soak the other the most. The birds continued to chirp around them as they laughed and insulted each other.

The brothers eventually stopped, grinning like two idiots around in the river, head soaked and hair dripping water onto their exposed shoulders. The bird continued to sing around them, the water current continued to sway around the rocks. It was still, silent. Peaceful. They were sitting down near the shore, their body still submerged, spread out in front of them. Henry watched as a leaf swayed with the current. The sun was caressing their face in warmth.

"Do you ever plan on coming out to Radzig ?" Samuel asked.

The inquiry made Henry move, open his eyes toward him. Samuel's short dirt blond hair was wet and ruffled, dripping water down his face. His eyes were closed, eye bags present but fading away. His slight moustache was spreading around his face more. Samuel's nose was exactly the same as Pa. Henry was jealous sometimes ; Samuel carried him whenever he went, in his face and mannerisms. Henry couldn't escape the comparison to a father that was never quite one. A comparison to a father that might as well throw Henry away if he ever learned about his... preferences. Henry's guts churned.

But then, he couldn't shake away the memory of when he had mentioned Hans to Radzig. He wasn't sure then, despite how many times he had replayed this memory in his head : Radzig had smiled. Perhaps it was out of jest, or perhaps he misunderstood his micro expressions from something else. His father was hard to read, after all.

"I dunno. I'm scared of how he'll react, if I tell him. I mean, I have to eventually." Henry said, chin dropping low.

The water sloshed around, a hand patted his back. The sound was muffled by the water.

"If he doesn't support you, I'll beat him up." Samuel said simply.

Henry shook his head. "Samuel."

"What?" Samuel opened his eyes toward him. "It's not like he's my father. I got no blood ties with him."

"Don't you remember how he fought like hell in court to let us stay together under his roof?" Henry recalled.

It had taken a miracle for the court to accept his request. Another miracle when Samuel had partially managed to convince his mother to let him go. Henry hadn't known what to think of his father beforehand, but seeing him spend hours reading up on court documents, meeting with his lawyer all for a son that wasn't his just so Henry and Samuel didn't have to live without one another was... Henry couldn't find the words. Was it pride ? Hope ? Perhaps admiration ?
He never knew his father well before it all. If anything, moving into his house when still grieving his parents' deaths and having just said goodbye - possibly for years - to Samuel, Henry had expected Radzig to always be what he was : distant, emotionless, and passive. What he found was that Radzig only wanted to give Henry space, that while his face was neutral, he had his own language for Henry to deduce, and what he mistook for passiveness was actually patient, bright determination.

All the more reasons to be scared. All of which they built, through grief and tries, it had the chance of disappearing, for something Henry couldn't change, only accept.

Samuel sighed. "But what will it means if he kicks you out without much of a thought when he promised unconditional love ? You're my only family left." Henry's heart squeezed. "I won't let past good actions cloud my judgment on possible bad ones." A pause. Birds chirped, Henry breathed deeply. The air was fresh. "He gets rid of you, I get rid of him."

Henry smiled. "I am lucky to have you."

Samuel laughed. "Ah, what would you do without me?"

Henry rolled his eyes, breathing out a laugh.

"I feel like skipping stones." He said as he sat up.

Samuel cracked an eye open, he was smiling. Henry grasped at a stone to help him get back on his feet. Now that he was out of the river, he felt heavier, the water dripping down from his body. Henry squeezed the extra water out of his hair, streams of river water run down his back and shoulders. Casting his gaze down, Henry began to collect stones that seemed appropriate : small enough to sit comfortably in his hands, and flat enough to be able to skim over the water. Samuel eventually left the river as well, but preferred to do sit down on his towel rather than to seek stones.

Henry found a few stones that were satisfactory. He threw the first one ; it bounced twice before sinking in the river. The second one was better - it skipped three times before diving in its new forever home. Henry's fingers felt slippery with the water ; he wasn't sure it helped him much.

Henry looked back at Samuel. "Don't you want to skip stones with me ?"

"I'm good. I don't want to humiliate you with my skills." Samuel said, drying himself off with the towel.

Henry looked at him. "What skills? You're shit at stone skipping."

The third didn't skim, it directly dove into the water.

"Definitively better than yours." Samuel answered with a grin.

Henry walked around again for new stones when a distant ding distracted him from the search : it was his phone. He searched around his discarded clothes for where he had left his phone. Henry found it in his jeans' front pocket.

Mad Swordsman : I forgot to text you the address for the party on Friday : 250 08 University street. Appartment n°8.

Samuel craned his neck. "Who's bothering you?"

"How about a party this Friday ?" Henry offered.

"How could I refuse." Samuel snickered, then stopped. "Your Capon guy will be present, won't he?"

"He's not mine. And what do you think ?

A groan. "Whatever. I'll be too drunk to deal with him anyway."

great, can i bring my brother and a friend with me ?

The answer was immediate.

Mad Swordsman : The more, the merrier. And don't forget the booze too.

noted

Chapter Text

"You think this is it?" Theresa asked.

The door was a polished dark brown, the number eight on the door. Henry eyed the message he received.

"Seems to be." He said with a shrug.

"Ring the bell, or else we will be down a bottle or two." Samuel answered, shifting the many bottles in his grasp.

Theresa rang the bell three times. Almost immediately, Hans had opened the door wide. He wore his hair back, a single wild hair curling back toward his forehead, the smile didn't reach his eyes until he met Henry's eyes. His lips were slightly tinted and glossy, was he wearing lip gloss ? Hans had abandoned his red scarf in favour of a golden necklace followed by a red chain adorning his neck. The shirt he wore was yellow, opened to show both his collarbones and his necklaces. He sported black high-waisted pants.

"Well, what are you waiting for ? Get in !" He said. "Put the alcohol on the table, there." He gestured to a round table.

Hans' flat was big, for a single student house. The living room was spacious with a small open kitchen in the corner, and a round table next to it. On the other side was a small couch and TV that was bigger than the one at home. The party was boasting. The small flat was packed with people dancing, laughing and talking, the alcohol was slowly draining from the various bottles on the table. People cheered when Samuel came to the table with more alcohol, most of them already quite inebriated, swinging cheap plastic cups where alcohol seemed to overflow.

Henry's attention refocused on Hans, who had gone to politely talk to another woman. She had wavy blond hair cascading down her shoulders, holding a cup from which a deep red lip print hugged the edge. The long black dress hugged her generous frame well. Hans didn't seem overjoyed to talk to her. If anything, the slight grit of his teeth made it look otherwise. Hans took a big swing of alcohol from his cup.

"Jealous much ?" Theresa's mocking tone reached him.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Why would I be ? He just looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but next to her."

Theresa looked over his shoulders. "Weird. Let's get some beer before the rest drain it."

The many bottles around the round table were already half empty or tipped over, alcohol dripping slowly from the opening. There was a small crowd around, talking and laughing loudly. Samuel was amongst them, talking with a smile on his lips to a woman, no doubt flirting with her.

Theresa managed to take a bottle of whiskey from the table, then proceeded to fill her cup with it. Henry took a cup from the pile and filled it with beer, the foam licking at the edge of the rim. He looked at the logo : it wasn't cheap beer, from the looks of it.

Henry took a sip from his cup.

The alcohol was buzzing in his body. It felt pleasant. Henry wasn't drunk - his movements though slower were still agile. The air around felt hot, and yet his jacket remained on his shoulders. His face was flushed, hair wild and sticky because of the sweat. He was bobbing his head to the rhythm of the loud music, talking over the songs to Theresa, who had just finished her second cup.

"You sure you don't want to dance ?" Theresa asked - again.

"No, I'd rather stay here. Dancing's not for me." Henry answered again, shrugging his shoulders.

"You should take off your jacket, it's hot here." She said again. 

Theresa had also abandoned her second layer not too long after entering. She was left in a sleeveless dark blue shirt, her black bra straps showing. Henry gestured her to let her know. She quickly hid it behind the shirt again, mouthing "thank you".

"I'm good. Don't you want to dance ? You keep asking, but you can go without me."

The "dance floor", which was just the big open space between the table, kitchen and couch, were littered with groups dancing. The bodies looked suffocating to Henry, all moving in rhythm, sometimes spilling alcohol on the floor, for those who carelessly kept their cups. Henry didn't see Hans anywhere, but he did catch a glimpse of Samuel dancing really close to a woman.

"Oh, would you look at that." Theresa said, looking onward toward the dance floor.

Henry followed her gaze - it settled on Hans. He was looking around, then left his cup on the edge of the table. As soon as their eyes crossed, Henry watched as Hans' expression switched to relief as his eyes landed on him, looking down. He crossed the distance in long and hurried steps.

"Give me your jacket." Hans demanded, tugging at the fabric.

Henry frowned his eyebrows. "What ? Why?"

"Do you think I dress like this to impress a ladybird ?" Hans gestured to his saturated yellow shirt. "I dress like this to be the centre of attention, so give me your jacket before she spots me because of it !"

Henry's line stretched into worry. He looked around to see if anybody was giving them attention - no eyes crossed his.

Henry sighed. "Fine, but there's my fucking wallet and keys in there, so you better not fucking loose them. If you want to take it off, you give it back to me straight away. Clear ?"

Hans gestured with his hands in hurry. "Yes, yes ! Now give me it !"

The young man took off his jacket and extended it to Hans, who quickly slipped it on. He ruffled up the collar a bit, crossing his chest with the fabric. Hans looked at Theresa, who stayed silent during the whole exchange, grinning into her cup, biting the edge of it.

"You are Theresa, I presume ?" Hans asked.

"The one and only." She smiled.

"Well, nice meeting you. Henry talked about you quite a few times." Hans threw a glance toward Henry.

"Oh, he did ? Good things, I hope." She winked, Hans laughed and agreed.

Henry wasn't smiling. If anything, he worried Hans would misplace his jacket and he would need to have a very uncomfortable discussion with Radzig - or rather, Radzig would have a very lengthy monologue about not losing important things while Henry had to stay silent and nod. Henry took a swing of beer, the alcohol tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Do you care to tell me who you're running from ?" He asked.

Hans' expression soured. "You don't need to know."

"I think I'm entitled to know, considering my jacket's hiding you." Henry bit back.

He was right - Hans was practically swimming in this jacket. He couldn't fill the sleeves well and the fabric appeared boxy on his slighter frame, despite the fact that Hans had the height advantage between the two.

"Listen, with the fucking heat, I'd rather not be wearing anything, but I'm graciously asking you for your jacket and no questions !" Hans hissed.

Henry rolled his eyes.

"Isn't it your flat ?" Theresa asked. "Why don't you just change clothes ?"

Hans mumbled. Henry couldn't hear a word but a slight incoherent string of sounds, heavily muffled by the music.

"What?"

"Fine, I fucking lost the keys ! I have no idea where I hid them. And I can't exactly check everywhere." Hans gestured to the people in the flat, the cups abandoned around every surface, and certainly meaning the mysterious girl he was actively avoiding.

Henry couldn't help the howl of laughter bubbling from his chest. What an idiot.

"Don't you fucking laugh at me, you prick !"

"You talk awful shit for someone who just begged for a jacket to hide in." Henry remarked with a sly smile.

Hans' face grew redder, looking at him with fury in his eyes.

"I don't beg, you arse !" He pointed a finger at Henry. "I'm going outside. I need some fresh air."

Hans stormed out, slipping through the crowd to the balcony. Henry snorted, finishing his cup in one gulp. He eyed the empty cup to find bits of foam clinging to the sides of the cup.

"You know what ? I'll fill my cup and join him. Don't hesitate to join us if someone's giving you crap." Henry said, turning toward her.

Theresa snorted, then flapped her hand in a way to mean go join him, I'll be fine.

Henry had managed to take hold of another beer bottle, emptying it in his cup in haste. A drunk bumped into Henry's back, making him lose his balance and spill some of his beer on the ground. Henry groaned in frustration.

"Be careful !" He bit at the drunk, who was a young man with a bottle of vodka and a cup in hand. He growled in answer, too inebriated to do much else.

Henry sucked the beer clinging to his fingers, walking to join Hans on the balcony.

The balcony was long, and bare if not for moss hugging the edge, grappling at the iron railing. There was, tucked away in a corner, a dying succulent, leaves brown and falling. A garden table and foldable chairs were tucked against the wall. Hans still wore his jacket, hunched over the bars, arms crossed. Henry closed the balcony door with a soft click. He watched as Hans' body slightly tensed when he heard it.

"I hope you didn't just lock us outside." Hans said. He held a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

Henry tried the handle, it opened with no problem. "No, I didn't." he closed it again, the glassdoor clicked.

He joined Hans, his forearms resting against the cold iron bar. He let his hand holding the beer hang loosely in the air. Their shoulders were brushing, heat remaining between the two while the cold wind caressed their faces. Hans took a long drag of his cigarette. Henry sipped his beer.

"I didn't know you smoked." Henry said simply.

"Only during parties."

"So every other day, then ?"

Hans let out a chuckle. Henry breathed deeply, the cold air burned his lungs, it felt nice. Hans dragged the cigarette to his mouth, holding it between his lips. The cigarette had sparkles around the edge because of the lip gloss. The sky was dark, stars hidden between black clouds. The moon peeked from behind one, partially hidden. The wind picked up, moving Hans' hair to the side. He borrowed himself deeper into the jacket, while Henry was left to the cold in nothing but a blue shirt.

"Your cologne smells nice." Hans said.

"Thanks. I don't wear it that often, though."

"You should wear it more. It might help smelling something else than sweat and iron." The jest was clear in his tone.

"Noted."

A particular bad wind gust hit them, making Hans dig in the jacket's pockets seeking warmth. Henry could feel his skin getting goosebumps, but he did not move. The music could still be heard from outside, nothing more than a whisper amidst the silence of the night. Hans hummed the melody.

"What's this?" Hans asked suddenly, bending down to pick up something that had fallen.

Henry didn't bother much to look, until his eyes landed on the small paper between Hans' fingers. Ma and Pa. He ripped the photo from Hans' fingers.

"Don't snoop in my wallet !"

"I didn't ! It fell from the pocket." The smoke left his mouth as he spoke. Henry felt his gaze on him. A pause. "Who are they?"

Henry didn't detach his gaze from them. He rubbed his thumb over his mother's face.

"They're my parents. I keep a photo of them in my wallet." Henry's voice was shaking at the edge. "They're... well they're dead now, so that's a way to remember their faces."

Hans hummed. "You told me already about your father. I didn't know it applied to your mother as well." Their shoulders pressed closer, Hans was looking at the photo. "Were you close ?"

"Very. They died four years ago."

Hans took another long inhale from his cigarette, then blew the smoke to the side - away from Henry's face.

"That must have been nice. To be close to them, I mean."

Henry dragged his gaze away from the photo to take a sip of beer. He watched as Hans kept his eyes on the photo, an emotion he couldn't quite decipher behind his eyes. He was worrying his lower lip, opened then closed his mouth. Hesitation.

"You're still thinking I'm here because of your uncle, aren't you?" Henry said, yet there was no accusation or anger behind his words.

Hans distanced himself slightly. He looked straight ahead into the horizon.

"Of course I am. Every single person who ever tried to be my friends were."

"Alright, I see. You know what ?" Henry said, he turned to face Hans, leaning against the metal bar. "Ask me something. Anything and I'll answer honestly. I won't sugarcoat it, I won't change the subject."

Hans paused, mouth parted to welcome the cigarette again, except it hovered before passing the threshold. He was looking at Henry.

"And how is that supposed to make sure I can trust you?"

"I dunno." He said with a shrug. "But I figured, if people try to force a friendship with someone, they wouldn't be truthful. Maybe they'd say or act in a way that would be overly pleasing or never reveal things about them. So, ask me anything."

Hans inhaled the smoke. He turned to Henry, cocking his head to the right as if he found the perfect question.

"Are you only here because of Hanush ?" He asked, the smoke escaping around each word.

Henry's nose was hit with the smell of nicotine. He suppressed a roll of his eyes. The ability to ask anything - to recieve a truthful answer, and he wastes it on a simple question ? Then, perhaps, it was what mattered the most to Hans.

"No, I am not." He said, making sure to punctuate every single word. A pause. "You get another question."

Hans stilled. "Anything ?"

"Anything."

The air became still around them. The wind didn't blow, Hans didn't bury his face in the collar anymore. The whisper of songs seemed to grow quieter in the bubble that formed between them. Henry took a sip of his beer to quench his drying throat, Hans dragged the nicotine into his lungs. The young man eyed the photo in his hand. Ma was smiling with Pa. Henry recognised Ma's eyes as his own. Samuel was lucky to carry Pa in his nose and maneurisms. Henry, he, carried Ma in the youthful glint of their similar eyes. The air was still. Henry eyed Hans. He was still looking ahead, eyes curled downward in a melancholic way. The silence stretched on, guts churning displeasingly. Maybe he shouldn't have asked it.

Hans' voice arose, fraying at the edges - a pull, and his voice would unravel. "How did you feel, when your parents died ?"

Henry's eyes shoot up in surprise, mouth parting slightly. He looked in the void, gaze unfocused. His heart squeezed in his chest. His eyes were dry. His voice came slowly, throat squeezing around the shape of each word.

"All I could think of is, how much of a bad son must I be, for not shedding a single tear for them?" He looked at the photo again. His hand was slightly shaking. "No matter how much I tried to force it, the tears didn't come." A pause. "I felt... angry. I still feel angry. At the world, at the drunk driver who hit them head on."

Anger sized his hands as the fingers roughly closed around the memory between them. Opening them, Henry felt bile up his throat as the photo was slightly creased at the edge. He smoothed it over with his finger.

"You want to know why I continued blacksmithing, even after Pa's death ?" He turned his head toward Hans. He was observing him intently, eyes widened. "Striking metal was a way for me to exteriorise it all. It gave me the possibility to turn this anger into something tangible, something useful."

Hans' hand snaked behind his back, rubbing in amicality before withdrawing it. The heat lingered but the surrounding cold swiftly claimed the warmth. The silence stretched on again. Henry gulped his beer down, Hans took a last puff of smoke.

"I guess this is my turn now." Hans said, rubbing the lit end of his cigarette into the railing to extinguish it. "Ask me anything."

Henry thought for a moment. The possibilities were endless, yet he couldn't think of a single question. He watched how Hans' breath seemed to falter in apprehension.

"How about... Something that you're dying to tell someone, but don't feel like you have someone to say it to ?"

Hans sighed. His jaw shifted around, as if searching for the right words.

"My parents never cared about me." Hans said, voice soft, trembling at the edges. "My mom left me when I was a child, and my father only saw me as the next CEO to his fucking business. All my life-" He raised his hands as if to make the point stand harder "-choices were made for me. What to wear, how to act, what to do, what people to befriend. And when my father fucking croaked I thought : finally life is mine to choose ! But no ! Hanush had to come, and continue the circle all over again !" Hans' shoulder slumped against the iron railing. He eyed his hands. "I can count on my hands the choices I ever made." He pulled two fingers up. "Two."

Henry let go of a breath he didn't realise he was holding. His gaze was fixed on Hans, never leaving his frame once.

"What are they?" He whispered, as if talking would break the spell.

"Archery, and studying history. That's the only thing I ever chose."

Henry blinked repeatedly, as if he regained consciousness just at this precise moment. He held the cup to his lips only to realise it had been drained.

"Sounds draining." He said.

"It is." Came the reply. A pause. " The girl I was running away from. Her name's Jitka. Hanush forced me to invite her to this party, 'said I should start to develop contact with my future associates." His words were spat out, as if they were poison on his tongue. Perhaps they were."

Henry only hummed. "That explains it."

It was his turn to pat Hans' back.

The silence returned. The music was still whispering. The world was still turning. The moon was now hidden away behind a cloud. The night felt darker than before.

"You know," Henry eased, a smile on his lips. "I'd love to try archery."

Hans laughed. "Thankfully, you're in front of an expert. I'll teach you somedays. Afterall, I am in your debt for the swordfighting lessons." He bumped his shoulder into Henry's.

Henry replied by a wider grin. The silence fell once again. Hans was humming the music, wearing Henry's jacket. The latter slid his parent's photo in the pocket of his pants, looking at the covered night sky.

It felt right.

Chapter Text

The sun was filtering through the leaves. Henry laid with his eyes close on the ground, torso leaning against the fallen tree trunk, head thrown back to rest against it. He felt the rays of sunlight softly caress his face. His breath was heaving, his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. Beside him, Hans was hiding away under the leaves to escape the harsh light. He was sitting on the tree trunk, not close enough to touch him, but enough for Henry to feel the heat of his body and his laboured breaths.

"Christ, I feel like I ran a fucking marathon." Hans said, gulping down the water bottle he brought.

Henry snickered. "I feel totally fine."

"Of course you are, beast. You look as if you just took a stroll in the park !"

Their swords laid on the ground next to them. Henry's body still tingled where Hans had managed to hit him - he was getting more skilled with the sword, and managed to land quite a few well-placed hits. Henry was going to get bruises, in a few days. The forest was still, the wind picking up a few leaves here and there, a remnant of the last autumn. The circle bore the evidence of their last fight : footprints, swings carved onto the dirt, sometimes traces of falls, when the other managed to sweep the other's stance off.

It had been a few days since the party, and the quiet discussion between them. Since then, they felt... closer. Like an unspoken arrangement was made. They began to hang out more. It became almost routine for Henry to have Hans waiting outside the forge, or to wait for Hans in the university's car park. The forest and tree had become their spot ; sometimes they would sword fight, like they just had, or sometimes they would just sit and talk, listen to some music together. Even now, a music came from Hans' phone,

"You know what?"

Henry hummed, opening one eye to find Hans staring back at him.

"I... I want to show you something." Hans said, yet he did not move.

That piqued Henry's interest. He stretched before moving to face Hans a bit better.

"What is it?"

"There's this... high point, around the city's outskirts, not too far from the University. The view's pretty nice. Especially to look at the stars."

Henry shrugged. "A bit too early for the stars, though."

Hans looked at him with a wide grin. "Not if we go there in the dead of night."

Henry suddenly recalled his father's words : Let me tell you this, Henry : don't let that Hans rope you into dangerous things. That family has a knack for always being in trouble. His smile dropped.

"I don't think we should do this, Hans. It's dangerous."

"It's not. I know that place, it's safe. We just get in, watch the sky for a bit, then get out."

Henry wasn't reassured in the slightest. "Why can't we just watch the sky from, I dunno, your flat ? Perfectly safe there."

"My balcony's not nearly high enough. C'mon, Henry, it's not like I'm sending you to war, is it? The view over the city is amazing." Hans said, looking at him with what Henry guessed was an attempt at puppy eyes.

He sighed. "Where is it?"

"The old flat complex."

Henry racked his brain, remembering every older flat around the city, trying to see what Hans meant by- oh. Oh. Fuck that.

"The abandoned one ?" Henry said, incredulous. "Hans, that's fucking illegal !"

Hans groaned. "C'mon, I know it. It's safe."

"I don't care if it's safe or not, Hans, it's illegal to go there."

Hans swatted his hand dismissively. "We won't get caught. The police never gets called to the complex anyway !"

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose - getting out into some place in the dead of night was one thing, but creep into an old, decaying building? That was too far. Henry thought, perhaps Radzig had misjudged Hans, that, unlike his uncle, he was a perfectly reasonable person, capable of not getting into danger. But - entering an abandoned building just to watch some stars ? No matter how breathtaking the view was, Henry wouldn't reconsider.

Hans shrugged. "Fine. I'll go there alone then."

Henry's blood ran cold. "Absolutely not. I'm coming with you."

Hans looked smug at that moment, wearing a big smile up on his face - Oh how Henry dreamed on ripping that grin off of his face.

"I knew you'd come to your sense," He answered, sly, "Come meet me at 1 in the morn', at the bus stop near the University with your bike. Bring good shoes, and charge your phone."

Henry settled back against the tree trunk. He closed his eyes. I can't believe we're doing it, he thought.

"Got it. I swear, Hans, if the slightest problem come, I'm hauling your ass out of here."

Henry only got a laugh as his answer.

0:35

The moon was shining in its entirety - a full moon - so much that the light filtered through his blinds. Henry groaned as he rubbed his eyes. His backpack was already made : a small bottle of antiseptic and bandages lied in the first front pocket.

Henry couldn't believe he agreed to it. But the sight of Hans going there, alone, in the dead of night where God-knows-what was hiding, and with the threat of an old decaying building, he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread. 

The young man dressed quickly - an old shirt and sweatpants with a warm jumper.

He carefully opened his bedroom door. The corridor was dark, Radzig's snores echoing rhythmically through it.

The hardest part wasn't getting out, it was navigating the creaky stairs without waking his father up, whose bedroom lay right below the stairs.

The first step wasn't creaky, yet Henry recoiled just the same. The second was. Henry left his feet hovering mere centimetres from the plank, waiting for Radzig's snore. The snore came and Henry's feet planted right with it, the step creaking with alarming volume. The snore didn't stop - Radzig didn't wake.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

The third and fourth were silent, Henry's muscles unclenched when they stayed silent, the only quiet sound being Henry's clothed foot hitting the wood underneath.

The fifth was the loudest - it had always woken up Radzig, no matter how careful he was with it. But the sixth one, though creaking, was less noticeable.

Henry took a deep breath and waited. His ears strained, buzzing as he prepared for Radzig's snore. He held the railings tightly, feet ready to skip the fifth to instead land on the sixth.

A snore.

Henry's feet landed on the sixth - the snore stopped. Henry stayed unmoving, balancing on his sole feet. Putting down his second feet down meant the stairs creaking again - and the whole sneaking out exposed.

His heartbeat seemed to ring in his eardrums, as he made an effort to listen for any suspicious noises from Radzig's room : the shuffle of a blanket, the switch of a light, the annoyed groan of a woken up middle-aged father - anything.

The room stayed silent - and then - a snore. Henry felt his body relax, his heart slowed down.

The seventh was a quiet one, Henry slowly lift his feet downward.

One last step : the eighth one was a trickster. One part of it would creak under any weight, but the other never creaked.

Therein laid the problem. Henry couldn't remember which was which.

Sakra.

The snore came - Henry decided ; he left his foot rest in the middle and quickly shifted away to land on the ground floor.

Henry sighed deeply - the hardest was gone. He couldn't shake off the slight glee on his lips as he quickly put on his shoes to leave. It was the first time he would sneak out - he didn't even sneak out when Ma and Pa were alive.

The fresh air hit him as soon as he left. The sky was devoid of any cloud, offering itself up for any eyes to see. He had left Pebbles outside the day before - to avoid having to dig around in the dark garage. The roads were silent and devoid of cars. The moon illuminated it enough so that he didn't need to waste his phone's battery on the road. He saw a few cats looking at him oddly, perched on top of parked cars or fences - a few one crossed the streets running when they saw him. 

Henry cycled away, taking the quickest route toward the University.

Chapter Text

The bus stop was on a small road leading up to the university, a connecting road to the main axis of the city. The small bus stop was beat up, the LED was flickering if it was on ; the bus route paper was obstructed by various stickers and scratches. Hans was sat on the fucked up bench, creaking and shifting from his weight. It was around 0:50 and no sign of Henry, so he waited by scrolling around on TikTok.

Hans' heard the faint nose of someone cycling, and couldn't help the grin when he raised his head to look at Henry. He sat up.

"Need a ride?" Henry said when he stopped in front of the bus stop.

Hans shoved his phone in his pocket before taking the space behind Henry on the bike. He still didn't like that bike, but it was better than by foot.

"Would you look at that, my personal knight ! And early, too. " He said as he tucked his hands around Henry's chest.

"So are you." Henry remarked. "Now, where's that building ?"

Hans dug his phone out of the pocket to open maps. "Take the next right." He replied.

Henry began pedalling - the weight was still off, and thought Hans grew accustomed, he still felt he'd fall.

The road was quick, the building was a few turns away, tucked at an intersection with a few equally decaying buildings, though the majority were still in use. It was a big flat complex, its exterior old and brittle, vandalized repeatedly over the years with political messages and drawings, or various names. It was big - something around 8 stories high, towering the neighbouring buildings. The exterior was repetitive, big windows, with, on the sides without any windows, huge broken lines striking parallels against the concrete walls. Typical brutalism. The entrance was fortified by a huge chain fence, shut tight thanks to a thick chain kept close by a strong lock - to enter, there was a passageway Hans had discovered, where the fence had been broken off.

Henry halted the bike in front of the fence. He could feel him hesitating as his head was turned toward the locked up entrance.

"There's another entrance on the side, the fence was cut through." Hans said. "Continue ahead, then on the side of the building, there's a passageway between the two buildings."

Henry led them to the passageway. He stopped his bike in front of it, requesting to continue by foot and hide "Pebbles". Was that the name of his bike ? Really ? Pebbles ? Aren't pebbles the enemies of bikes ? Henry leaned the bike against the other building for safe keeping, though there wouldn't be anyone stealing a bicycle at this hour.

The chain fence was still broken, cut by strong wire cutters. He remembered the bag scratch he gave himself the first time he sneaked through - Hans still had the scar on his shoulder. It was nasty, but not as unpleasant as explaining to Hanush why he suddenly needed a new tetanus shot. Hans pointed at the gap.

"You do us the honours, Henry."

"Why me?" He asked, looking at the gap.

"Because I decided so ! C'mon !"

The young man rolled his eyes but squeezed through, holding the fence away with his ridiculously strong grip. The fence rattled when Henry reached through the other side.

"What are you waiting for?" Hans said, as Henry did nothing but look at him. "Keep the fence open for me, you yokel ! I'm not going to dirty my fucking clothes."

Henry groaned but wasted no time and gripped the fence link open from Hans to enter. He passed easily, sweeping his shirt where he accidentally brushed against the wire.

It was hard to see anything, as the building obscured most of the moonlight, and the city lights were turned off in this part of the city. Henry turned on his phone's flashlight as Hans did the same. The area they entered was a small patio around the building. The concrete had cracked and vegetation was seeping through them. Hans walked toward the door, Henry to his heels. There were plenty of things he wanted to show Henry. The entrance was a double door whose glass panel had cracked and fell to the ground. The glass shards were littering the area around the door, crinkling under their footsteps. That was new. The usual crude drawing still laid on the left of the double doors, concrete dirty with the pollution.

Hans turned to Henry, phone light pointing to the ground to avoid blinding him.

"There's nothing interesting in the ground-floor, however," he gestured behind him to the stairs, "there's a pretty nice thing on the second floor."

Henry muttered something Hans couldn't understand, but he ignored it in favor of walking toward the staircase. The stairs were made of concrete like the rest of the building. They were build in spirals, and in okay-ish condition, if not for the occasional trash and broken glass bottles.

There were four flats per level, and while the majority had been completely gutted out, leaving nothing but a torn and wet wallpaper, some still hid away old furniture and objects. That was the case with the third flat on the second floor.

The flat was open, the front door gone for a while. Hans entered, step sure and directional, while Henry's footsteps followed behind, cautious. The first room was the living room, which had been almost emptied out, save for hung pictures who fell and broke, and a couch in bad shape. At the end of the room, a large archway gave into the dining room, just as empty.

"Seems lovely." Henry said, turning around to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the daughter's room." Hans said, pointing at the corridor's door, to their right.

"Daughter's room?" Henry echoed.

The corridor gave to the rest of the flat, meaning the two bedrooms and bathroom. It was dark inside the corridor since no window gave into the space. Hans opened the first door, inviting Henry in. The latter hesitated, but stepped into the room. The door was left open.

The room was the smallest. Its walls were covered in pink flowery wallpaper with a single remaining wardrobe left inside, next to a broken window. The only evidence of having belonged to a young child lied in a small detail, tucked away in a corner.

"Seems like the other rooms to me." Henry's voice rose. He curiously opened the wardrobe. It was empty.

"Not quite." Hans answered.

He crouched next to the corner opposite of the door. Hans felt Henry approaching him. He gestured to a small drawing, etched onto the pink wallpaper. It was done by a child, its edges shaky and unsure, the colour rough and uneven.

"See that?" Hans asked, turning his head toward Henry. He was surprised to see him so close to him ; his nose just shy of his cheek.

"I do," He answered with a smile, face moving to allow space for it. Hans felt his grow warmer.

He turned his gaze toward the drawing. The child had drawn two rabbits : a knight rabbit holding a shaky sword, the other wearing a long dress and a crown.

"Medieval rabbits." Hans pointed out.

"Sir Nibbles and Lady...." Henry put his hand under his chin, a thinking habit Hans picked up on.

"Lady Králíček." He finished.

"Lady Králíček ? Not very imaginative." He turned slightly toward Hans.

"Like your 'Nibbles' is any better."

Henry opened his mouth to answer-

SLAM

Hans didn't have time to react that Henry had shoved him behind his back, body turned toward the door. Hans peeked over the other man's body. The room was empty, the door was closed. Hans became suddenly aware of the press of Henry's back to his chest, the strong grip around his wrist, and the warmth spreading to tingle at his fingertips. His heart couldn't stop beating in his chest.

He felt his mouth hang low, unable to voice anything, being only reduced to a puddle of feelings as he felt every muscle contracting or moving against his. Hans had touched Henry before ; when cycling, when sparring. But why did it feel so differently all of a sudden ?

Henry detached himself, approaching the door cautiously, turning to throw a glance at Hans, who didn't move.

"It's..." Hans finally found his voice again. He cleared his throat, voice shaking at the edge. "It's probably a gust of wind that closed the door."

Henry approached the door. That's when Hans realised that he was holding something, something that shone with the phone light. Was that.... a knife ?

"Can't be too sure." He answered, voice grovelling in his throat.

Henry carefully opened the door, then discreetly bent to have a look. Hans saw him relax before opening the door all the way to reveal the dark, empty hallway.

"Why did you bring a fucking knife ?" Hans whisper-yelled, even though the danger turned out to be null.

"You mean to tell me you came all the way here, without a means to protect yourself ?" Henry asked, incredulous, he slipped the knife in his pocket. How did Hans manage to not feel it, when they were riding ? "How were you planning to get out of danger if it presented itself, Hans ? With your pretty words and the bat of your eyelashes?"

"Obviously ! Besides, no one lives here any more !" Hans retorted, hands rising to the side. "Whatever. Let's go to the top floor."

Hans promptly left the flat, Henry to his heels.

The roof access was through a small latch and ladder at the top of the last floor. It was old and dirty but bare, safe for a concrete half wall circling the edge.

The sky was cloudless. The stars were shyly peeking through the lights of the cities. Around them, the wind swept their faces, the city laid dormant.

It was breathtaking.

Hans watched as Henry's eyes widened as he took in the view, his mouth slightly hanging lower. Hans felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and he found he couldn't stop smiling. He felt something pooling around his guts, knowing he was the one who triggered this expression on Henry's face - though he could not quite place what it was.

Henry approached the half wall, this expression of wonder still blooming across his face. His shoulder brushed against Hans', the heat remaining between the point of contact. The sky was littered with stars, the moon shining brightly around them all, casting a silvery glow from which the city slept under. The buildings seemed small under the building from which they were perched upon. Not so far, Hans could make out the familiar shape of the University's buildings, the museum tucked away almost hidden to their eyes - yet Hans recognised it the same.

"Nice view, is it not ? I like it here." Hans said, arching an eyebrow toward Henry.

"I understand why." Henry said, turning his head toward him, smile ever so present. The wind tousled his hair, swiping it to the side.

Hans smiled, and watched as he saw a car drive by, unaware of the two perched on top of the building. He felt like a hawk circling a prey before striking it. On top, swept by the wind and caressed by the full moon, there were no problems. No Hanush, no inheritance by a dead uncaring father - just Henry and him.

"Do you show this spot to every single one of your friends? Henry teased.

Hans laughed. "No." Came the confession. "You're the first." barely a whisper.

Henry stilled for a second, then smiled, playfully shoving Hans with his shoulder.

"Thanks for showing me." He said, voice low.

His breath hitched as he felt the air disappearing from his lungs. The tingling sensation was back, engulfing him whole from where Henry's shoulder was in contact with his, he found himself not being to think of anything else but one, precise thought.

The cityscape never looked better, than with Henry by his side.

Life had never been better than with Henry.

Chapter Text

3:01 AM

The wind was still, the air was fresh. Henry and Hans were looking up at the stars, still. Henry yawned - the third time in a few minutes. Hans stopped his rambling.

"Tired much ?" Hans asked.

"Apparently so." Henry answered after the long yawn, eyes shiny.

Hans shrugged. "We can go home, if you'd like. It's not good for me to keep you awake any longer."

Henry shook his head, but another yawn interrupted him, so he agreed. Hans tugged him along toward the latch still open, the ladder waiting patiently, rusty and cold.

The stairs seemed more dangerous going down than they were going up, and Henry gripped his phone harder, illuminating his path to avoid stepping on old paper or broken bottles. Hans was following him close behind, his own phone light projecting over Henry's head. The air was heavy with dust.

Henry pushed the staircase's door open. The ground floor was dark and as still as they left it. The entrance doors were still open, the broken glass littering the floor. It was eerily quiet, the sound of a car in the distance of it all.

Then suddenly, a whine.

A dog's whine.

Henry stilled himself in the middle of the entrance.

He looked back to see Hans staring at him. "Heard that?" He asked, voice quiet.

Hans nodded. They carefully made their way outside, the whine getting louder, more stressed. Outside the fence enclosing the building was a dog, looking around frantically. The dog was thin. Henry hadn't noticed it before, or perhaps, it wasn't there yet. Its coat was brown and white, and its face squarish but long, with floppy ears.

The young man approached the dog. Despite the fence, the dog did nothing, simply whined louder, looking at Henry, head cocked to the side.

"C'mere doggy. Where's your master, hm?" Henry said, sticking his finger close to the fence, so the dog could sniff him.

Henry peeked ; male. The dog didn't seem aggressive, so there was that. Hans crouched next to Henry.

"We can't leave him here." Henry said.

Hans shook his head. "No, we can't. Poor dog, he's starving. Look, his ribs are showing through !" He pointed at the dog's side.

Hans stood up. "I'd love to take him with me, but the flat complex doesn't allow pets in there. And Hanush will probably gut me."

Henry thought for a second. "Radzig might let me take him in."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Henry stood up, walking toward the broken fence. He gestured Hans to follow him.

The dog followed them from outside the fence, his tail wagging and mouth open, panting. As soon as Henry and Hans got out, the dog began to walk around them, barking in happiness - but he was promptly hushed. Henry knelt in front of the dog, and starting petting him.

"Who's a good boy, hm? Do you want to come home with me ?" The dog licked his face as Henry recoiled in surprise, wiping the spit. "I think that's a yes !"

He heard Hans giggling behind him, bending to look at the dog closer, but not doing much else. Henry craned his neck to look at him.

"I think he likes you." Hans said, voice soft.

"It seems so !"

Henry took Pebbles back from the wall he lean it against a few hours ago.

"I'll ride you home." Henry said.

"Sure you're not going to fall asleep at the wheel ?" Hans joked.

Henry felt his skin crawl, memories of his parent's accident creeping to the front of his mind. When he didn't laugh and just offered him a short shake of his head, Hans lost his smile.

"I won't." Henry said, mounting on the bike.

Hans said nothing, and joined him on the bike, his hands circling his waist as usual. The dog barked beside them. He was hushed again.

The dog, which Henry had begun affectionately referring to as Doggy, was running alongside Henry's bike. He was nearer to his house, the cars and houses familiar, even in their stillness. Hans had been dropped by his flat complex with a quick goodbye, a smile on his lips.

The cats were roaming the street still, Doggy occasionally barking at them - he was hushed again. Henry took a turn, his house revealing itself in front of him.

The lights were on.

Henry's smile faded as he felt the blood leave his face. Fuck.

Had he woken Radzig ? How ? Or maybe it was Samuel who got up.

But if his brother was awake at this hour, roaming around in the living room, it meant that Radzig was, too.

Henry carefully set Pebbles against the facade of the house. He turned to Doggy.

"Stay." He ordered, whispering.

The dog sat on the grass, whining as he did so. As soon as Henry began walking to the door, Doggy got up to follow him. Henry stopped and faced the dog again.

"No." he said disapprovingly. "Stay. I won't be long."

A louder whine. Henry hoped he couldn't be heard from inside. He stepped backwards toward the door to observe Doggy. He whined, sitting and stomping his feet like he was fighting his urge to follow him. Good boy.

Henry took out the keys from his pocket, careful to not let them knock together, then painfully rotated the lock to avoid making as much noise as possible. There was still the possibility that Radzig had gone back to sleep. The young man hoped that he would find himself face to face with his brother.

He opened the door, and in front of him, sitting patiently with a cup of liquid between his hands, was Radzig.

"Hello Henry." Radzig said, voice still, face expressionless. He was wearing an old shirt with obvious holes around the collar, and loose pyjama bottoms.

Fuck.

"Hi." Henry said after a long pause.

The young man felt a warmth rubbing against his leg, and the hit of nails against a wooden floor.

Kurva.

Doggy had not stayed, and rather followed him into the house. Defeated, Henry closed the door.

"I see you brought a... companion." Radzig remarked, yet did not move. A pause. "Where were you."

The tone was neutral, but Henry heard the accusatory tone behind his words.

"I..." Henry stopped himself, then let his shoulder drop. Might as well tell the truth. "I was with Hans." He watched as Radzig's expression subtly changed. "He wanted to show me a high point over the city, so we went there to watch the stars, that's all !" Henry said with a shrug, leaving out the fact that it might not have been totally legal.

Radzig took a sip out of his cup. "And the dog ? I don't recall ever owning a dog. Or, at least, for the last few years."

"We heard a dog whining, and we found him." Henry dropped a knee and took Doggy's face in his hands so the dog would look at Radzig. "Look at that doggy ! He's hungry, he was probably kicked out by its master ! I couldn't leave him there and Hans cannot bring pets in his flat, so I thought, why not bring him here ?"

His father sighed. "You know, I would have appreciated if you had told me, instead of sneaking out. Imagine if you got into trouble ? You would have been gone, and I wouldn't know where to even search for you ! Do you realise that, Henry? And didn't I tell you to not let yourself get roped into Hans' bad ideas ?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now." Radzig looked at the dog between Henry's legs, then stood up from his seat. "I'll bring him some bacon. But you, Henry, will bring him to the veterinarian first thing tomorrow, to see if we can keep him or not. Understood?"

Henry beamed. "We can keep him ?" 

He couldn't stop smiling. He always wanted a dog. Pa and Ma never wanted one. No matter how much Henry begged - or Samuel and he begged - they never relented. Too much care needed, or no time to take proper care of a dog, his parents would always say.

"Bring him to the veterinarian first." Radzig answered from the kitchen.

The young man couldn't stop smiling, kneeling next to Doggy and petting his face with vigour.

"Heard that, Doggy ? We might keep you!" Doggy nuzzled and happily licked his hands. "Yes ! We might ! Good boy !"

The dog barked, but was hushed again.

Radzig reappeared from the kitchen holding a few pieces of bacon in his hands.

"You're lucky, this is the last of our meat." He said, as he knelt next to the dog.

Doggy sat, drooling as Radzig offered him the bacon. He gulped the pieces down in a few bites, eager, tail wagging fiercely as he did so. The older man petted him on the top of his head.

Radzig brushed his knees as he got up, sighing, rubbing the muscles of his back.

"I'm going back to bed now. Let him sleep in your room if you want."

"Okay."

Radzig stopped in front of his bedroom door.

"Go to bed, Henry." He said, voice soft, then disappeared into his bedroom.

Henry got back on his feet and shed his shoes.

"Yes, yes I will. C'mere Doggy, let's sleep." Henry gestured to the dog, who then promptly followed him up the stairs - though with some difficulties.

The veterinarian observed the dog over, opening his mouth and feeling along his stomach. Doggy let himself be examined happily, panting and relishing in the attention. Once it was all over, the doctor petted him.

"He's in very good health, if not lacking weight. He was lucky to stumble across you when he did." He said, turning to face Henry and Radzig, who were waiting patiently in the room.

Henry's smile still didn't leave his face.

"Fortunately, we will be able to find his owner since he was chipped." That was then, that Henry lost his smile.

Ah, right. Doggy probably had a loving home.

The veterinarian clapped his hand and helped the dog off of the table.

"The secretary will read the chip and let the owner know their dog was found." He opened the door to let Radzig and Henry out.

As they did, the veterinarian called a name and a woman turned around. He gestured to the two -three- of them.

"Can you please scan the dog's chip and call the family?"

"Yes, of course !" She replied.

Henry lead Doggy next to the secretary, back at the reception area.

She approached a scanner next to the dog's neck, and read at the monitor in silence. She nodded.

"Well, it looks like our good dog is called Vořech, and is a 5 years old crossbreed ! The number of the owner is provided, so I will call them immediatly."

Henry glanced toward Radzig, who stared at him back. But before Henry could ask, Radzig spoke.

"If the owners of the dog do not answer, will it be possible to adopt him?"

Henry's smile regained his face, as the secretary nodded with a slight smile on her lips.

"Of course, though he will first need to spend some time at a shelter, to give time for his owners to show up. But if the dog is declared abandoned, then you can leave us your information to notify you. If you do adopt him, do not forget to declare the dog to the municipality, they will need to know." She said, holding a phone over her ear.

Henry could hear each ring. He hoped they would all fall silent.

No answer.

The Secretary called again. And again.

She stared at the third missed call, then left a message.

"Well. Thank you for bringing Vořech here. Since his owner has not answered, I will transfer him to a dog shelter nearby, for a few days. Can I have a phone number, if you wish to be contacted ?"

Henry promptly gave his phone number, the secretary quickly typing it out. She nodded, then petted Doggy's head. 

She called out for a collegue. Henry knelt down and petted Vořech one last time, whispering how much of a good dog he was.

The collegue came and took the dog away in some other long corridor by a leash. Henry continued to stare at Doggy leaving, tail happily wagging.

Henry whipped out his phone while Radzig busied himself with the secretary.

Doggy was brought to the veterinarian

hes fine and healthy, his name's Vořech apparently

the owners didnt answer the phone so hes going to a shelter for a few days, but if they dont come i can keep him

Henry waited for Hans' answer.

Mad Swordsman : That's good to hear. Keep me updated if you do adopt him ; I want to be his godfather.

Henry chuckled.

and who are you to decide that?

Mad Swordsman : Excuse-you, WE found him, so I get a say in this. I'M his godfather, wether you like it or not.

and want split custody while youre a it?

Mad Swordman : See I would if I could. Except for once, I prefer to keep my lease and my head on my shoulders.

Radzig patted his shoulders, pulling him out of his phonescreen. "Everything's paid for, so let's get home."

Chapter Text

Hans was walking in front, phone in one hand. The air was fresh, and Henry didn't know how Hans could wear a crop top outside without shivering. Henry only followed him, hands full of beers Hans refused to carry - though he was the one to buy them. They were going through a part of the city Henry rarely went to, to a student party, of course, where Hans had been not only invited, but graciously asked for - to quote his words. It was weird going out without Samuel or Theresa next to him, but Hans. He had been insistent that Henry come with him. Henry had come to pick him up at his flat before heading by foot there. It wasn't far, Hans had told him.

He paced up to catch up to Hans. "Are we there yet ?" Henry asked.

"Cheer up, will you ?" Hans said, in lieu of answering. "You sound like you're about to drop dead. Are you really like that before a party all the time ?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm just preserving my energy before one, that's all. But you seem like you're about to explode with nervous energy."

"I'm excited, Henry. We'll get there, get drunk, hopefully shag a girl or three." Hans rolled off, a smile on his lips.

"A girl ? You're optimistic." He answered with a grin.

"Oh, shut up, you!" Hans batted his hand toward him, voice lacking bite.

Henry snorted. Hans came to a stop in front of a house ; the music was louder now. Hans shoved his phone in his pockets and rung the doorbell as Henry stood next to him. They waited a few moments before the door was open, and a girl that was familiar to Henry -though he couldn't place where he saw her- appeared. Her face morphed into a huge smile as she greeted them.

"And who did you bring here, Hans ?" She asked, staring at Henry.

"That's Henry. Don't worry, he doesn't bite." Hans said with a laugh.

She bit her lips, head tilted to the side. "Aw, I hoped he would."

Henry just laughed and threw her a wink, to which she promptly blushed with a smile. The girl prompted them inside ; the house was smallish, the living room being the centre of it all. A staircase to the right was shut off with a cowboy-esque half door. There weren't many people inside, but most of them were already dancing or drinking.

The girl who opened the door put a hand on Henry's shoulder, mouth close to his ear so he could hear her above the music.

"Put the beers in the kitchen, will you?" She asked, touch lingering on his shoulder.

Henry nodded and walked to the kitchen, being careful to avoid the people dancing.

The kitchen was narrow, a simple room with old brown tiles everywhere : walls, floor, counters. A gratuitous amount of various stronger alcohol were already everywhere on the counter. Henry put down the packs of beers on the ground and opened the first pack to take two.

Finding Hans amidst the people wasn't hard - Who would choose to wear a yellow crop top that seemed to glow under purple light ? Hans. Hans was the answer. He was already moving his body left and right to the rhythm of the music. When their eyes met, Hans threw his arms up and quickly took the second beer. He threw the other arm around Henry's shoulders, bringing him closer. Hans' lips were mere centimetres from his own mouth before they dragged to his ear.

"I think you caught the eye of Mara over there." Hans said, smile evident in his voice.

He pointed toward the girl who had greeted them at the door. She glanced toward their direction, hiding her smile behind a plastic cup.

"You should talk to her, Jindra. If you're lucky, she'll let you see her bedroom."

Henry took a sip of his beer. On a normal day, he would feel thrilled about it, but all energy he normally feels with being the centre of a woman's attention faded.

"Maybe." he answered half-heartedly.

"C'mon, don't be shy. Use your blacksmithing charm. It's going to work."

"Blacksmithing charm ?" Henry repeated in jest.

"Yes ! You know, she begged me to bring you to this party, after I told her that we were friends."

Henry couldn't help the shake of his shoulder as he laughed.

"You're playing matchmaker now?"

Hans withdrew his arm from Henry's shoulders. He ignored the tinge of disappointment. The young student just bumped their shoulders together, urging Henry forward.

"Go talk to her. Go !"

Henry sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll go talk to her."

Hans cheered as he walked over to where she was standing. He slid next to her, hand on the table behind her. He looked at her with a sly smile.

"Mara, is it?" He asked.

"Correct." She answered, head tilted to the side.

She was pretty - brown hair in a half-up, half-down style, with glitter sprayed onto her scalp. It reminded Henry of the glitter of Hans' lip gloss. Her lashes were long and black, shadowing her green eyes, from which her attraction to him was evident.

Her lips were soft, the taste of her lipstick noticeable but not unpleasant. Henry felt Mara shiver from the cold around them as she put her palms flat on his chest. She was nice, but yet Henry couldn't help the frown of his eyebrows as she bit his lower lip. It didn't feel right. He broke the kiss, taking a step back to separate himself from her. The cold of the evening air felt welcoming. They had vanished to the back garden for a little privacy, moments beforehand.

Henry wiped his lips, the lipstick clinging to the back of his hand in a foreign way. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this."

Mara took a breath. "Oh, I was hoping... Well, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I forced-"

"No, no, you didn't !" He cut her off. "Don't worry, I uh. You kiss well, and you're lovely, I just, I don't feel in the mood." Silence etched between them, it was unbearably awkward. "I'll get back inside."

"OK." She let out.

The inside was much warmer, bodies dancing and voices singing along to the music - it had been turned down not long ago after some neighbour had complained. Henry walked to the kitchen. The bottles had been emptied more, the beer steadily disappearing. He took a clean cup and served a good sip or two of the strongest alcohol he could find. Vodka. That'll have to do. A boy he didn't know patted him in the back as Henry gulped down the cup, alcohol burning his throat.

"Sakra, man ! You look as if you've seen a ghost." He laughed.

"Simply not drunk enough." Henry answered quickly, a smile on his lips. It didn't reach his eyes.

The stranger laughed and raised his plastic cup to him before vanishing elsewhere. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose before taking a beer bottle he easily opened. He needed to calm down with the alcohol ; drowning everything out wasn't the solution.

He leaned at the threshold of the kitchen, shoulder against the wooden archway. Henry's eyes swept around the room for Hans. His eyes stopped in their tracks.

Hans was leaning against the wall, a girl next to him. Henry watched as Hans grinned at her - the type of grin which cut his face in two with interest- and how he casually slid a finger under her chin to lift her head. The woman tilted her head up at him, face red.

Something gnawed at the pit of his stomach, coiling dangerously. Henry took a sip of his beer, hoping the alcohol would stash the feeling away, never to return. It didn't help - in fact, it felt worse. Henry continued to watch, jaw tight, forcing his teeth together.

He watched as Hans' mouth formed over words he could not hear over the music. His hand moved to tuck a hair behind her ear. She answered, wetting her lips with her tongue.

Something in Henry snapped.

His feet suddenly urged him forward as he grabbed Hans' arm to drag him to a more quiet part of the living room. Hans didn't have a chance to react until he was standing next to Henry, opposite to where he previously was with the girl. His grip hadn't faltered, if anything, Henry held tighter. Hans' head whipped toward him, anger clear in his blue eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing ?" Henry asked before Hans could.

"What do you think ?" Hans ripped his arm away from the other man's grasp. "Tap-dancing ? I was flirting !"

Henry's mouth spoke before he could. "With her ?" He couldn't help the disgust in his voice.

Hans gasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I needed to get permission from you to make out with her !"

Henry glanced toward where the girl was, she had left. Hans saw it as well, groaning loudly.

"Fan-fucking-tastic ! You blew my chances off !"

"I just-" Henry started.

What the fuck was Henry doing ? Why had he reacted like that ?

"Oh, please enlighten me, Henry ! You what ?" Hans glanced around when he suddenly stilled. "Oh I see. You couldn't get Mara, and now you're jealous that I was doing good ? That's low, Henry," he said in an angry laugh, "going against me when you couldn't get it up !"

Hans detached himself from Henry.

"I'm done. I'm going home."

"Hans !" He called out, yet couldn't bring himself to move.

The young man whipped around, pointing an accusing finger toward Henry.

"Shut up !" And don't fucking follow me."

The door closed abruptly, barely audible to the other people over the sound of the music. Henry sighed deeply, rubbing his face in a defeated manner.

A head of brown hair came to stand next to him. He glanced down to see it was Mara, who was also staring at the door. They stood in silence for a little while, ignored by the people around them.

Her voice reached his ears. It was shy, barely heard with the music, despite standing so close to one another. "Is it because of me?"

"No, no it's..." Henry couldn't find a reason.

He had acted like a dick, blew off for something that shouldn't have bothered him, and he only had himself to blame.

"You have... feelings for him, don't you ? Is that why you didn't want to go further with me?" Mara asked innocently.

His thoughts raced around his head. He opened his mouth to disagree, find a reason for the way he acted, something that made sense.

"I, uh. It's not... I... Fuck."

Henry didn't have feelings for Hans, he concluded in his mind. He couldn't be in love with Hans. It's not that men didn't appeal to him, far from that. And Hans was attractive. He simply felt... jealous, that Hans had no problem being flirty when Henry couldn't bring himself to. That was all.

"Let's dance." She said. "Let's forget about this moment. You will have time to talk to him tomorrow."

Mara tugged at his sleeve, and Henry dutifully followed her.

Chapter Text

Henry arrived on time to the forge, where Vincent was heating up the oven. The building was cold still. The young man put down the backpack on the ground in a soft noise enough to startle Vincent, who turned toward the man.

“By God, Jindra ! You look awful !” He answered with a laugh, wiping his hands.

“Good mornin'. I had a party yesterday. Haven’t slept much, is all.”

“Ah, the wonders of young adulthood. I hope you had fun there.”

“I did.” Henry lied.

The truth was that  after the party and Hans' departure, Henry tossed and turned for hours in his small bed, unable to find sleep because of Hans.

The worst part ? The message he sent Hans as soon as he woke up was left unanswered.

Henry pretended like the pain he felt whenever he checked his phone was a coincidence.

He busied himself by preparing the tools, gathering them on the table near the old anvil. Vincent had already taken out the baselards they were working on. One had been shaped and ready for the handle, the other still needed some shaping.  Henry tossed the last one in the oven to heat it, turning it every few minutes on its sides to make sure it was evenly heated up.

The young man carefully set the white-hot iron on the anvil, picking up the hammer with a sure hand. The first hit of the day struck, ringing like a choir within the small concrete building. And with it, the anger settled into the sparks.

The next strikes were easier, shaping the metal further by striking it on one side, then making sure the metal was not too thin by striking it on the other. Some time after, he would reheat the steel in the forge to keep it malleable. There wasn't much work to be done left : simply shaping the point correctly.

Metal was the only song sung around the forge - Vincent worked best in silence, no other sound but the repetitive strike of hammers against steel. Henry grew to appreciate their unique sound, as opposed to put some music on the background of things, like he'd heard other blacksmiths liked to do.

A phone rung suddenly, disrupting the unique choir of the smithy.

It was Henry’s phone.

He was about to ignore it when Vincent pressed him to answer, taking the tool in hand to continue Henry's job of beating the steel into shape. The young man found his phone vibrating loudly into his hand.

He looked at the number calling him and - his blood ran cold.

The hospital was calling him.

He answered with his hands shaking, wide-eyed.

“Hello, is this Henry Kovář ?” A sweet voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Saint John’s Hospital, we were told to notify you of Hans Capon’s accident.”

A flash of memory came to Henry’s mind ; his mother’s last moment, hooked to tubes and casts meant to make her live – the cold of the hospital’s seat - Samuel’s quiet sob next to him, - the unbearable dryness of his own eyes.

He couldn’t help but see Hans in the place of his own mother.

“Sir ? Are you still here ?” She called.

Henry shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “Yes, yes I am. When... When can I visit him ?”

“Visiting hours start at nine thirty and end at half past seventeen.”

Henry stopped work at 16h. He had a small window to come see him after work.

“Alright, thank you.” He said as parting words, staring at the black screen of his phone in disbelief.

He found Vincent’s gaze settled over him, worry clear in the lines of his forehead.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked, hammer set down on the anvil, toyed between large fingers.

“Hans is at the hospital.” Henry said, the words crashing over him, jaw shut tight, eyes alert.

Vincent stopped fiddling with the hammer. “What happened ?”

“I... don't know, the woman didn’t tell me.”

Vincent sighed, looking around. “I’ll be fine continuing alone this morning, but I expect to see you this afternoon for the handle, I can’t do it alone.”

“What.”

“Go, Jindra ! Go see your friend. I can handle it just fine this morning.” Vincent struck the hammer again as if to punctuate his sentence.

“Are you sure ?”

“Henry, go.” He said, voice lower and more authoritative.

Henry nodded, grabbing his backpack and practically jumping on his bike.

“Thank you !” He threw in Vincent’s direction and sped off to the hospital.

Room 201 - Room 202 - Room 203 - Room 204 - Room 205.

Henry found himself staring at the door in front of him - a muffled voice he did not recognise carrying a conversation behind it. He couldn't dare to open it, hands shaking, pushing images of his mother's death clear in his mind. This hospital was different from the one in Skalitz. The monotonous white walls were interrupted with pops of a blueish green. Inhaling one last time, Henry reached and turned the handle of the door quickly, before the thoughts of dread could catch him.

The room's walls were white, with the same blueish green floor. On the opposite wall was Hans' form, sitting on a bed. His hair was a tangled mess, no longer swept back neatly. His lip was split open, yet the blood was wiped clean. Hans' left arm was in a cast, various bandages covering his other arm. He looked like a righteous mess.

Hans' eyes lit up. "Henry !" He said, leaning forward on the bed, arm spread out.

Henry closed the distance with hurried steps and, without thinking, lodged himself between his arms, hand flying to cup his neck to bring him closer.

Relief flooded his veins. Hans was alright. Or rather, in a much better condition than what Henry imagined.

"I'm sorry." Henry said before he could think.

Hans scoffed. "I forgive you, you oaf. I'm not going to stay mad at you for that." He spoke lowly, muffled by Henry's shoulder.

"Still, you were right. I was jealous, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

A third voice loudly cleared their throat, and Henry suddenly became aware of a large man standing next to the bed. The young man startled away from Hans' grasp, eyes meeting the hard gaze of the man before him.

The man was middle-aged, with thinning hair on top of his skull but a full black beard growing, which covered his wide neck. He wore a blue suit - an attire one might find on a public spokesperson.

"Ah right." Hans' voice broke the silence, etching on. "Henry, this is my uncle... Hanush Leipá."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Henry said, offering a police nod of his head.

The man didn't answer, scrutinizing Henry like a laborious task needing tackling.

"Did we meet, boy?" He asked. "You look familiar. Have I seen you in one of my political rallies?"

Henry didn't even know of the man's existence until recently. "No, sir I-."

"Are you Radzig's kid ?" Hanush cut off. "By God, you look exactly like him !"

Henry opened his mouth before closing it again. Right, he and Radzig used to know each other, he recalled.

"Or so I've been told." Henry answered.

"Excuse me, uncle, but Henry came to see me, not break bread with you." Hans' voice cut through.

 "Is that any way to speak to your uncle, boy ?" Hanush' voice boomed easily in the room. "You're lucky I have better things to do. I'll come back tomorrow."

Without further coaxing, the man left the room, leaving Henry and Hans alone in the hospital room. Henry sighed deeply and dragged a chair next to the bed. He sat on it, resisting the urge to grab Hans' hand, which was laying in front of him, relaxed and inviting - if not for the bruises blooming around his knuckles.

"What happened ?" Henry asked tentatively.

Hans shook his head. "I don't remember much but... some assholes tried to rob me when I was walking home. There were two of them, I think ? When I refused they jumped me. Then next thing I knew I woke up here. They fucking busted by phone, too ! And of course Hanush doesn't want to buy me a new one until I'm out of here."

Henry felt his fist shake - though for a different reason. He shifted his jaw around.

"I should have been there." He let out quietly.

"But you weren't." Hans' words cut deep. "We can't change what happened, can we ? Besides, if you were there, what is to say you wouldn't have also ended up on a hospital bed ? We'd be roomies for a little while I suppose, which isn't too bad."

Henry chuckled.

Hans's hand shifted to his arm, scratching there before settling back where it was, only slightly closer.

"Did they steal anything?"

Hans suddenly sucked in a breath. "I wish I could say only my money but... They stole a fucking family heirloom ! Do you believe that ? It's a ring we kept through generations with the family's crest on it. It's made of real gold, and probably worth a fucking ton of kuronas. Damn fuckers."

Hans didn't wear a ring. In fact, Henry was pretty damn sure he didn't - He knew that, since he had replayed yesterday's events in his mind to the point of insomnia.

"I don't remember you wearing a ring last night." Henry said simply, eyeing Hans' right hand - he'd always wear his rings on the right hand.

"I am fairly certain I was."

"I know you wear your rings on your right hand and I assure you, you didn't wear any during the party last night. Maybe you left it home ?"

Hans' form stilled, fingers twitching slightly as he rose from the bedrest and started to look for something. He pointed at a small bag at the corner of the room. Hans didn't have time to ask that Henry already brought the bag to the bed for him to dig through. He pulled out a set of keys, offering them to Henry.

Hans' gaze pierced his own. "I need you to go to my fucking apartment and find it then."

Henry slowly took the keys from his hand, fingers brushing against one another. He eyed the keys in surprise.

"Hans.... Are you sure ?"

"Yes. Because if we don't settle this right now I am going to lose it here. So go."

Henry's eyes kept running back and forth between the keys and Hans' strong eyes.

"Should I go now ?"

"Yes. Listen Henry, I give you permission to dig any-fucking-where you seem fit, even the toilet seat if you feel the need to, but find it."

"How will I know it's your ring ?"

"Don't worry about that, you'll recognise the crest. Now go !" Hans shooed him away, swatting his right hand with fervor.

Henry nodded and took his leave, Hans' keyring heavy in his hand.

Henry turned the key, the door opening with a quiet click.

He hadn't been there since the party, and the quiet discussion on the balcony. It was weird seeing it devoid of people, of Hans, yet Henry could only see traces of the man everywhere he looked ; history books scattered around a table, a brand of chocolate Hans confided in Henry he loved, the red scarf Hans rarely parted with.

Without thinking, Henry took it in hand. The fabric was soft under his fingertips, and smelled heavily of Hans.

It was weird, strangely intimate, to be in Hans' flat, to be entrusted blindly by the man in his absence.

He supposed it made sense - Hans and Henry were friends.

The young man stilled and looked around with a single burning question in his mind : where would Hans leave a ring ?

The answer that came to him was the bathroom. It made sense to take off a ring in a bathroom, avoid putting it under water, wearing it when the skin was wet and slippery.

Hans' bathroom was quite big. On the opposite wall was the sink. It was crowded with multiple half-finished tubes of toothpaste - why need so many ? - a toothbrush that seriously needed replacing, and a bottle of perfume. There was no ring.

Henry tentatively looked underneath the sink, opening the drawers to find a comb, a hairtie - probably forgotten by a girl he invited over -  other bits and things usual to a bathroom, yet no jewellry of any kind.

The young man turned to look toward the ledge next to the toilet - empty.

The ledge of the bathtub - quite fancy a bathtub, too - but to no avail.

Henry rubbed his face. Maybe the bedroom, then ?

Henry stepped out of the bathroom. Thankfully, the bedroom was not far. Indeed, it was right in front of the bathroom door.

The door to the bedroom was unlocked, and Henry stepped it.

He was hit by a wave of smell, something that was so inherently Hans. The closet was to the left, hastily opened and closed, clothes hanging or shoved into place with little care. A few pair of shoes were thrown on the lowest spaces, pouring out of the closet. The bed was against the wall, nightstands on both sides - that's when Henry saw it.

A small chest, open to reveal jewellry inside. multiple necklaces and rings were taken out, littering the small bedside table or laying across the messy sheets. His laptop laid next to them. Henry began looking through the box. It was mostly sober black, gold or silver rings, a few red necklaces, something Henry picked up on - Hans loved adorning his neck of red.

He was about to give up when Henry looked behind the chest and saw it.

It was an old signet ring, the gold long been tarnished, scratched by years of wear and tear. Yet the crest was unmistakable.

The crest was indeed familiar to him - incredibly so.

Two feathered arrows crossed to form an X. On top, a knight's helmet wearing a leafy crest from upon which a fish laid still.

The Pirkstein House.

Henry tentatively picked it up, fingers carefully wrapped around the ring.

In his mind, a lot of things suddenly made a lot of sense.

The stuck up attitude - the way Hans looked at the Pirkstein information board in the Museum with quiet familiarity - the money that seemed to overflow his bank account, which wasn't just because of his father's company, he'd come to realise - and the estate in Polna.

Hans was a fucking descendant from the Pirkstein House.

Henry was about to slip the ring in his pockets before he stopped himself, then tried the ring on his pinky finger. It fit nicely, and was loose enough to be able to be taken off comfortably yet wouldn't tug itself free.

Something swelled in his chest - a scary feeling.

The young man took off the ring before shoving it into his pocket - the shadow of the feeling clinging like moss to a rock, refusing to be washed away.

Chapter Text

Henry didn't bother to knock when he came back.

He found Hans where he had left him - not that he could do much except lie down. When the door shut softly, Hans' gaze snapped toward Henry, a bright smile across his lips - splitting his face in two. Henry's lips curved into a smile of his own.

"Did you find it ?" Hans asked, sitting straighter from the bed.

Henry stepped to be next to him. "I did. Was on your night stand, with your other jewellery."

As he said this, Henry dug out the ring from his pocket and presented it to his friend in his open palm. At the sight, Hans' shoulder sagged in relief and quickly took it between his fingers. He slipped it on his ring finger like second skin, observing the details with half lidded eyes. Henry sat on the chair next to the bed, where he had dragged it when he first came in.

"When were you going to tell me Hans Capon is from the House of Pirkstein ?" He asked, jest in tone.

"Eventually." He answered, giving his best impression of a posh attitude with a hand movement to match. Then, softer : "I didn't know how to bring it up, so I just waited." A sigh. "I discovered it a few years ago, when I was digging around family history. My father knew, he just never bothered to tell me. When he died, I found the ring in his belongings. I've had it since."

Henry hummed. He watched as Hans passed a finger over the crest.

"I didn't mean to keep it away from you. You're..." Hans' gaze lingered in his own. "You're the closest friend I have."

Hans' confession stirred something in Henry - turning around in his stomach, softening the edge of his face into a smile. 

"I care a lot about you, too." Henry said. 

How could he not ? From the moment he received the call, up to opening the door, he felt like he lived in a waking nightmare. He couldn't lose Hans, too. 

"Once I'm out of here, I'll take you to the archery range, you have my word."

Henry craned his neck. "I doubt your arm'll be healed by the time you get out of here."

Hans unfolded his hand to sneak out his index. He wiggled it toward him.

"That's where you're wrong, Jindra ! I might not be able to hold a bow for a few weeks-"

"Several months" He interrupted.

"-A few weeks, but I can teach someone archery just fine without it. And if you want a show of my talent, I could show you old videos I took." Hans grinned, holding his head a little higher to prove his point.

"Alright." Henry smiled. "How long ?" Hans stared at him confused. "At the hospital, I mean. How long are you staying there?"

"Three days. They said I need to do more scan for the arm." As if to punctuate his sentence, Hans raised his left arm, still encased in various medical knick-knacks. 

"I'll visit when I can." Henry said.

Hans smile came soft, he settled back into the half risen bed, eyes heavy.

"You'll have to excuse me, I'm exhausted." He said, words swallowed by a yawn.

"Get some rest, Hans." Henry said, putting a sure hand on Hans' shoulder, careful to not squeeze or grip him too hard. 

"I don't want to be asleep when you're here." He fought to stay awake.

"Your body needs it. Plus, if that can help you, I need to get back to the forge soon."

"Hm. Can't take you away from steel, can you?"

Henry only laughed softly. "I mean, I did step away from it for you."

And he'd do it again in a heartbeat - even if it meant fucking up what he was working on.

His friend offered him a small, tired smile. "If you come back and find me sleeping, wake me up. I don't want to miss you here." Hans mumbled, eyes closed.

Henry didn't have time to answer that Hans was already sleeping, face peaceful. 

Henry had to dig up an old conversation where they exchanged their Spotify playlists, to be able to put Hans'. 

Henry was sitting, in the late morning, music softly dancing around the empty room from his phone.

It was peaceful. Hans was sleeping in the bed of the room, eyes closed, mouth open from which saliva trickled down onto the bedsheets. His hand was outside the bed, hanging in the void next to Henry. Slowly, observing Hans' face, Henry took his hand, softly looking over the bruising around the knuckle. It had healed to a yellowed spot underneath his flesh. His fingers were long and thin, Henry unconsciously noted, no calluses except for one on his middle finger - writer's callus, from holding a pen so often. It was different from Henry's own rough hands, from wielding a hammer or the many burns around from incorrectly handling a piece of white-hot metal in his novice years. 

The weight of Hans' hand felt good in his open palm. 

Henry thankfully didn't have work at the forge this day - He had rushed to the hospital almost as soon as the visiting hours had begun. He had found Hans, not yet awake despite the sun filtering through the window next to the bed.

"Henry...?" Hans mumbled.

His gaze turned to Hans, eyes half closed, the blue of his irises so clear. He shifted in the bed to a sitting position, helping himself with his right hand - yet didn't escape Henry's grasp even when Henry tried to let go. Henry smiled, ducking his head, bashful.

"Hi. Slept well ?"

"Rather well... Why didn't you wake me up, like I asked?" 

"I just got here." Henry lied, dropping his gaze to their joined hand.

Henry let go of Hans' hand, the warmth fading quickly. The other man wiped his eyes with his now free hand before settling it next to Henry once more, palm up. 

"Thank you..."

Henry's eyes came to rest on Hans' own. 

"For what?" His voice came breathier than he thought.

"Well, the hospital's fucking boring and without my phone I don't have my music so... thank you for being here, and putting on some music. I didn't know you had Pierce the Veil in your playlist, though."

Henry's laugh came through his nose. "It's not my playlist, it's yours. I remembered you shared it to me, so I dug it back up, for you."

Hans' lips stretched into a genuine smile.

"Well then. What is it that the blacksmith working on at the forge ?" Hans asked suddenly.

Henry didn't exactly come to the hospital to talk to Hans about his work, but he could entertain him with it, if he ever so wished.

"We're making baselards. We finished the two swords yesterday, now we're waiting for the guard we had custom-made to be delivered. Nothing serious, really. Though since it's spring, we might get more order with medieval festivals coming soon. I know Vincent and I often have a stand there where we sell decorative knifes, daggers and such, and show a reproduction of a medieval forge. It's pretty fun, except when you have to stand next to an oven all day in summer."

Hans hummed. "I remember a medieval festival I went to when I was a kid." His eyes stared off to an invisible point, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

"How was it?" Henry asked, shifting to put his elbow on the bed. Their hands were so close, yet Henry couldn't bridge the gap.

Hans' pinky finger tentatively hooked itself underneath Henry's - he kept his composure still, afraid that if he moved, then Hans would remove his finger.

"I tried archery for the first time there. It was a stand behind a hill, near Polná. I went with my mum, I don't remember why we went there in the first place. I begged her to let me try." A soft chuckle. "I was positively shit at it. Couldn't reach the target at all ! The person in charge of the stand grew frustrated with me because of all the arrows I lost into the grass. It was amazing."

"How old were you?"

"Five, maybe ? Too young to yield a bow, that's for sure. And you ?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have any childhood anecdote to tell me, eh ?"

Henry thought for a few moments, trying to find a good story to tell Hans. 

"I was with my brother, Samuel. We were children at the time, around seven years old. Back in our house, in Skalitz, there was a linden tree in our backyard. I climbed it while Samuel read underneath it. I came to a high branch, but it snapped while my weight was on it. While Samuel was lucky that I didn't fall on him, I wasn't. I fell to the ground on the branch hard and a piece of it opened my arm. I screamed so loud, Ma came running and took me straight to the hospital. My parents were so scared. Hell, I even remembered how they called Radzig to let him know. We were prohibited from climbing the tree ever since."

He rolled his sleeve up to reveal the skin of his arm, then pointed at a long, fading mark. "There, the scar."

Hans' hand came up to brush against the skin - his fingertip was cold against Henry's skin - he felt goosebumps started to appear as Hans traced the skin.

The sun began its slow descent over the afternoon sky. 

Henry joyfully sat next to Hans, immediately pulling out his phone.

"So ?" Hans asked.

Henry, Samuel and Radzig had come to pick Vořech up barely an hour ago - but his time spent with the dog came to a halt as he promised Hans he'd come to show him the picture once the dog was in his forever home. The dog had been thrilled, tail whipping around and jumping to greet his new family.

"Vořech was very happy ! You should have seen him, jumping everywhere ! I have photos."

Henry opened the gallery, starting with the latest photo. The dog was sniffing the camera with great interest, tail wagging in a blurred mess. Hans chuckled.

The next photo was one with Samuel next to the dog. While the dog was smiling, Samuel's crooked smile was shy.

"Your brother doesn't seem very happy." Hans noted.

"Oh he is, Sam just doesn't smile very much."

Hans only hummed.

The next photo was Radzig giving a treat to Vořech - and the next was him putting a harness on the dog, all while getting ferociously licked on the cheek. 

Hans made a face. "I hope he doesn't mind a faceful of dog saliva."

"He immediately wiped it with his tissue, so I'm guessing not so much."

The door opened abruptly, a middle-aged man wearing a suit standing in the doorway. Hanush. He wore a similar blue suit. He barely looked toward Henry's direction, focused solely on Hans. 

Henry suddenly felt unwanted, so he quickly gathered his things to let Hans have some privacy with his uncle. But as he took his jacket, Hans' hand grasped his.

"Stay." Hans demanded, voice sure.

Henry turned to him. "Are you sure ? I don't want to interfere between you and your uncle."

"Yes, stay."

Hanush came in front of the bed, a scowl in his face. Henry slowly sat back down. He followed the older man's gaze to find him staring at their clasped hand, but said nothing.

"Dearest uncle."

"How are you ?"

"The nurses are kind and the food is tolerable."

"It's a hospital," Hanush remarks. "It's not a Michelin star restaurant. You better get used to it."

"I know, uncle."

The awkwardness was tense - it's as if Hans and his uncle didn't know how to speak to each other except when yelling. His gaze suddenly crossed Hanush's.

"And you boy ? How is your father ?"

"Radzig's fine." Henry answered, though confused on why Hanush would want to speak to him.

"That's good to hear." He cleared his throat. "And what do you do in life ?"

Henry quickly glanced toward Hans who looked as confused as he did. 

"I work at a smithy."

"A blacksmith ? Like Martin, then."

Right. Henry remembered the few photos he saw of Radzig's youth - Hanush and Pa used to know each other, too. He nodded, looking at the bed in front of him. "Yes, he uh... He instilled his passion in me."

Hans squeezed his hand, moving them on the bed. 

"Why are you wearing the ring?" Hanush' voice suddenly boomed. "Give it here, you can have it stolen by a nurse !"

Hans gasped audibly. "It's perfectly fine on my finger, uncle !"

Hanush' face was red. "You didn't have it on yesterday." He thought aloud.

"Henry brought it for me." Hans answered, proud of himself.

"You- You entrusted him with it ? Do you know how precious it is, Hans ?"

"Are you saying Henry's untrustworthy ? He's my friend, Hanush ! You don't get to fucking insult him !"

Henry didn't particularly feel very insulted, but he kept his mouth shut.

"It's not what I meant, boy !" Hanush bit back. "Give it here, I'll keep it for now."

Hanush gestured with his hand toward the ring.

"No." Hans said, suddenly very calm. "In fact, if you're so scared of me loosing it, then fine." Hans suddenly took the ring off of his finger and placed it in Henry's palm. "Henry can keep it for me until I'm out."

Hanush, as Henry thought previously impossible, became redder.

"You senseless horse ! Do you have no care for things in life ? This ring isn't one of your toys !"

"I know. That's why I'm entrusting Henry with it. If you don't like it, then fine, I'll keep it on my finger."

The older man held an accusing finger toward Hans - Henry now knew where Hans got this habit.

"If he ever lose it," Hanush said menancingly, yet spared no glance toward Henry, "I am dragging both of your arses and hanging them to a fucking clothesline."

With those parting words, the man left the room, making sure to close the door as loudly as he could. Henry became suddenly aware of the heavy ring in his hold. He held it toward Hans.

"Here."

Hans batted his hand. "No, no, no. You can keep it for now. You'll give it back tomorrow, when I get out of the hospital."

Henry's eyes widened. "Are you sure ? It's... I mean, it's precious."

"So are you to me, Henry. Please, I mean it." A pause. "Hanush is not... totally wrong. I could have it stolen, but I trust you. Keep it in your pockets or on your finger, whichever you want."

Studying the ring, Henry twirled it between his fingers. He felt a deep coil of his guts - Hans' trust in him was... overwhelming. After a few moments, Henry tentatively slipped it on his pinky, the same he tried before in Hans' flat.

Hans smiled. "Welcome to the Pirkstein family." He joked, his hand coming to grasp at his shoulder. "How does it feel?"

"Like I just gained a lot of generational trauma." Henry said, a chuckle on his lips.

His friend groaned, head fallin on the pillow against his back. "You have no idea."

Chapter Text

The wind was rustling the leaves above their heads. A sunny afternoon was hanging above their heads, blue in its lack of clouds, but shadowed by the tree where Henry and Hans laid underneath. Hans' new phone was propped against his belly, with hard rock sounds blasting the calm air around. Hans had left the hospital around a week ago. The broken arm was around a splint, an angry red swelling in the middle of his arm. Henry had given back Hans' ring, now proudly wrapped around his right ring finger.

They were laying next to each other on the grass near Henry's house, in the forest that became their hangout spot.

Henry pretended to not feel Hans' pinky finger brushing against his own hand, and just focused on the words sprouting from Hans' mouth.

"Are you free this Thursday morning ?" He asked suddenly.

Henry hummed in thought. He was working that day.

"I'm afraid not. Got work."

"Sure you can't skip it ?" Hans asked, he shifted beside him, hand leaving its proximity. A sudden shadow overcast his figure.

Henry opened an eye to find Hans looming slightly over him. The sun cast a golden glow over his hair, a halo of gold strands - and at that moment, Hans looked like an angel. A smile, all teeth and wide, splitting his face in two, bruises long since vanished. He was beautiful.

"I can't skip it." Henry said after a short pause, remembering the previous question.

"C'mon ! You won't combust if you ask your old boss for a day off."

"Does it have to be a Thursday morning ?"

Hans' gaze fell to the side before meeting back Henry's.

"Well- yes ! It's the quietest there, no one would bother us- I mean, I don't like going to the range where there are other people present, because then you'd have to be careful and wait for them to finish. You can hardly shoot at your pace ! And I'm a quick shooter, mind you ! And it's best to be unbothered when learning archery... We could even put music on !"

Henry couldn't help the smile from appearing on his face. Hans always rambled when he was embarrassed, he came to realise. 

"Alright, alright, Jenda. I'll see with Vincent tomorrow, if I can convince him."

Hans pumped a victorious fist in the air, or rather, into the ground, as his sole good arm's elbow was firmly planted into the soil under where they currently laid.

"I'll show you how to wield a bow, and you won't regret it !"

Hans had led them to the outskirts of the city, near the industrial zone. Henry rarely went there, unless he had something to buy at the local Möbelix. Just now they were walking near a huge park which Henry guessed was the sports era of the city - a huge plot of flat land where different sports cohabited. He might have been there once or twice. Hans was walking in front, steps sure and eager. The archery range was in the middle of those clubs, Henry guessed. He was weighed down by the backpack Hans ever so politely asked him to carry - though calling it a backpack would be odd. It was more like a suitcase with a huge, thick black tube running alongside it. It rattled in the tube - he wasn't sure what it was.

Vincent had been thrilled - oddly thrilled - about Henry skipping work, so much so that he had sent him away Wednesday afternoon with a wink and a large smile. The only thing Henry had said was that he was going to see someone in the morning, and asked to skip work then. Maybe he was happy Henry found himself a friend. Maybe he misunderstood something.

They eventually stopped at a fenced off area, hidden behind trees and tall weeds growing around the fences. Hans fumbled with the code in the lock before opening it wide. 

His smile was bright, as he gestured to Henry. "The archery range !"

Henry wasn't sure what to expect. It was a mostly empty field, with old hay targets at different marks, noting the distances in meters. Next to the entrance was a small, covered area with more tucked away targets, some sitting and tables - many tables in a straight line laying alongside the pillars.

"Seems nice." Henry let out, stepping inside. 

"It's satisfactory. And, we are alone." Hans wiggled his fingers around again, his smile turning mischievous. "Give me the bow, I'll set it up."

Henry looked around, it was empty - there was no bow whatsoever.

"Where ?"

"You bloody idiot, the bow's in that bag!"

Well, that explained it.

"How ? Aren't bow really long usually ?"

The suitcase seemed too large and not tall enough to house an entire bow, Henry thought. Hans laughed - actually laughed as he slipped the backpack off of Henry's shoulders.

"It's the 21st century grandad, join it ! Modern bows can be pulled apart for storage."

Hans set down the bag on the long line of tables, and suddenly Henry understood their purpose. Hans fiddled with the zips at first, but then managed to open the first flap, revealing a bunch of laces and cloths whose purpose eluded Henry. He fumbled with a fancy cherry-shaped lace, setting it next to the backpack, before taking out a weird glove and a sort of vambrace - only much thinner and whose area of cover was quite slim. He struggled more with the second zip - Henry wordlessly reached to help him, their hands brushing for a split second. 

The second zip concealed what could only be described as a bow broken in three : the two arms of the bow, and a large handle made of steel. Next to it was a stand - no doubt where to put down the bow. Hans gave the stand to Henry with a demand to set it up. It wasn't hard, just sliding the feet into the corresponding holes. The young man set it down next to them. 

Hans turned to Henry with a wide smile.

"Step one," he started, "how to mount a bow."

Henry diligently followed Hans' orders and soon enough - after a few fumbling where Henry also didn't want to use a lot of strength in fear of breaking the bow until he relented - Henry found himself with a bow in his hands. Hans then opened the large tube, pulling from it a few arrows and a quiver - that made sense. The arrows were black with a singular steel tip, red and yellow coloured plastic feathers at the tip, with a bright green notch. He slipped the quiver on Henry's pants.

"You don't wear the quivers on the back ?" Henry asked.

"Not everyone is as flexible in their shoulders, Henry ! And also to find them or see how many are left is a pain in the ass." 

Henry cocked his head, nodding solemnly. 

"Let's go to the line, we'll start at five meters. How does that sound ?"

"Great. I didn't feel ready to tackle that one" Henry pointed toward the farthest target. How far away was it ? 50-ish meters ?

Hans chuckled. "Who knows, maybe one day you will."

Hans led him to a coloured line of the first target, next to it was the number 5. Henry eyed the old target, it was made of hay, the centre soft compared to the hard packed hay at the edges. There was a number and letter on the side of the target. Hans suddenly grabbed his hips - he felt himself tense to the touch, surprised, heat rising to his head.

"Hips perpendicular to the target, Jindra." He obeyed, finding himself facing Hans, hand still on his hips. "Unfortunately, for me to teach you, I have to touch parts of your body. Is that alright?"

Henry couldn't help the small chuckle. "No worries, I've been known to welcome that kind of touch."

"I bet you do." Hans answered, hand leaving his hips to tug at the arm holding the bow. "Right-handed means you hold the bow with your left hand."

Henry switched hands, feeling the notch fitting better against his left palm than right. 

"To hold an arrow, you pinch it here on the cord with the notch, and place your index, middle and ring fingers underneath. That's why the gloves are like that."

Henry placed the first arrow and put his fingers below.

"That's too far down, unless you want to give the 70 meters target a try." Hans grabbed his hand in his, sliding it up on the cord. "Try here, half a finger width underneath. The higher it is, the closer you will shoot, and otherwise."

"Got it." Henry breathlessly answered.

The heat from Hans' body was all he could feel - they were really close. 

"Now you're all set to shoot. Look at the target, rise your bow-arm to be straight, and when you're ready, draw to here." Hans slightly touches the corner of his mouth, featherlight.

The cord was hard to pull, but not impossible; he'd expected it to be easy to draw. He stopped at the corner of his mouth. Hans' finger snaked to pull his thumb out to pull it flush against his cheek, then slowly encouraged Henry to lower his arms. 

"Thumb out. Your eye is the tip of the arrow. Aim with it." Hans' voice dropped lower, Henry couldn't look at Hans from his stance. "Once you're ready, let go of the cord."

His hand relaxed, cord flying out, sending the arrow straight into the target - or at least that's what Henry hoped. In reality, it flopped at the edge of it, barely sunk into the hay.

"Not bad for a first attempt !" Hans said, all smile.

"How did it go so low ? I was looking straight in the middle !"

"You accompanied it. It's an arrow, not a hammer ! Release at the point of your lips, not after, like you did."

Henry was pretty sure he let go properly, but he didn't protest. Instead, he took a second arrow and positioned himself again. Immediately, Hans' hand was on him again - lowering his shoulder, lingering around his hand. 

"Keep it here." Hans whispered. 

Henry released the cord against, feeling Hans' fingertip against his hand the whole time - the arrow sunk a bit higher than the middle, toward the right. His friend patted his shoulder.

"That's better ! I'll make a fine archer out of you !"

Henry smiled - it wasn't the best, but if Hans was satisfied, so was he. His eyes lingered onto Hans' face, staring at the target with a glint in his eyes. Their eyes crossed for a split second, but Hans' eyes suddenly widened, ducked to take a new arrow.

"Let's see if you can replicate it."

They continued to shoot. Henry didn't grow any better, but Hans didn't seem to mind. Well, at least, all arrrows reached the target - they didn't have look around for lost arrows. Hans' touch came rarer and rarer as Henry fixed his stance - slight disappointment that Henry buried deeper by the arrow shot. Admittedly, it was the most fun Henry have had in a long time - and seeing Hans amidst his element only brought a warm feeling around his chest.

At some point, Hans and Henry were side by side, sitting on one of the benches, bow resting on the bowstand - Hans had told him to never put the bow unsupported on the ground, not even for a split second - so Henry obeyed. Hans turned his head toward him every few seconds, a huge smile on his lips. In his right hand were videos he'd taken of his archery tournament. Henry had, at some point, snuck an arm behind Hans' back to better see the video.

"You shoot from that far ?" Henry asked incredulous. The target seemed small. 

"Yes. It's not bad once you get used to it." Hans said.

In the video, Hans was wearing a czech coloured sports-shirt, eyes squinting in the sunlight. He stepped behind the line, shaking his shoulders slightly before taking an arrow in hand : the way he slipped the arrow on the cord like second nature surprised Henry - then, just as quickly, Hans drew the bow, holding it for a few mere seconds before releasing the arrow - and the bow with it. It fell forward before coming back into his grasp, in a swinging motion. A few polite cheers rose and the camera zoomed toward the target - a perfect 10.

"Why did you let go of the bow ?"

"I just showed you a 10+ and all you're worrying about is the bow?" Hans said in jest.

"My apologies your grace, I did not realise the prowess of your action."

Hans shook his head, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Yokel. We're not actually supposed to hold it, so that when the arrow is loosened, the bow discharge the rest of the power elsewhere than the arm. That's why it needs to swing. Makes you less tired."

Henry hummed. 

A photo, this time, was Hans standing proudly with a medal wrapped around his neck, silver. He held his head high, smirk proud and on display while his arms was holding a bundle of alcohol bottles - the prize, surely.

Henry looked toward Hans who was still staring at the phone. His blond hair was still swept back so effortlessly, a smile on his lips. From sitting so close, Henry could smell the cologne he wore - distinct, a comforting scent that seemed to wash Henry away in calmness. The way their body pressed together - slotting like they were meant to be - felt right. Something in his chest squeezed, comfortable and soft, like it was meant to be here. He would give the world, if it meant being able to stay with Hans in this moment together.

His Hans around the things he cherished, and Henry lucky enough to witness the glint in his sky-blue eyes. 

The revelation was quiet - like a flower that bloomed, or the way the clouds slowly danced around the sky - like something that was always bound happen, for life to continue its trail - yet the thought pinned him in place in shock all the same.

Chapter Text

Henry had only the half day off of work, so he needed to go back to the forge in the afternoon. He had parted ways with Hans after spending lunch together in a restaurant not so far from the range. Thankfully, the bus ride from the range to Henry's house to prepare for work right after was not long. He actually left his house quite early, taking Pebbles for yet another ride to the forge.

Henry pressed the brakes, swiftly unmounting his bike in the entrance. He felt particularly happy ; his steps felt light, and he couldn't stop the smile on his lips. 

He kept thinking back to the morning ; Hans showing him how to wield a bow, the videos and photos he showed of him - for lack of ability to show him directly. The conversation they had in the restaurant, mostly about archery and sword fighting. Hans had joked he was more than qualified to be considered a Knight in medieval times - Henry had argued back that he would if he wasn't so childish, to which his friend had lovingly requested him to go fuck himself. 

The memory made Henry smile more.

The forge was already opened when he entered the forge - the warmth from the oven and Vincent's rhythmic hammering had already started.

"Hello !" Henry said, taking off his bag to let it fall on the floor next to the tables.

"Ah ! Jindra is back." Vincent said, letting go of the hammer. He was smirking. "So, lad, how was your date ? Who is she ? Is she...?" Vincent gestured around his own chest in forms of breasts.

Henry looked at him frowning, confused. He opened his mouth when the memory of their last conversation resurfaced. 

"Oh Vincent, by the way. Can I take Thursday morning off ? I have an uh... I'm meeting up with someone." He had kept his eyes trained to the metal in front of him.

"A date in the morning ?" Vincent had answered swiftly. "Who am I to tell you not to ! Of course, you can go, lad!"

Henry had smiled. "Thank you."

He had left it at that- but only now did Henry understand what Vincent had told him, Wednesday afternoon, after work : "you'll tell me how she is, eh?". Henry had answered swiftly, not really hearing what he had said, simply because he was starving and eager to come home. But Henry understood now the problem.

Vincent had assumed it was 1. a romantic date and 2. with a woman.

Henry was not sure which of those two misunderstanding to rectify first.

"It was with a guy." The words slipped out without thinking.

The silence etched between them, Henry looking at Vincent with big eyes - shit. Shit, there was no going back to that one, was it ? He hadn't meant to- 

"Well, is he handsome at least?" Vincent suddenly said. "Is he good in the uh.... Wait, what are gay men attracted to in another man? Is it like a woman?" 

A flood of relief struck Henry as he couldn't stop laughing. He swiped his tear addled eyes - not of sadness but hilarity at Vincent's attempt to change gears. But of course, he stayed the old man that he was, obsessed with those things.

"Henry, stop laughing and help me!" Vincent said through his own laughter. "I'm trying to be supportive !" 

The young man stifled his laugh, breathing deeply to help. 

"Yeah." Henry eventually said, a wide smile on his lips. "He's quite handsome. A bit... thick-headed sometimes, but he's very smart."

"Well, can't have everything. What's the lad's name ?"

"Hans."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "The Hans you keep blabbering about ? Well, that makes sense. I hope he'll be better at handling your sword than he was at the other one."

Henry shook his head, chuckling. "Well, I've been teaching him sword fighting for a little while now. He's grown better." Then, realising the double meaning. "Not that kind of sword fighting-" was added quickly.

Vincent only laughed harder, picking up the hammer again. "C'mon loverboy, let's get back to work."

"Aye."

Henry took off his jumper and picked up the guard they were finishing up, carving it to a good size.

The smile still did not leave his face - and Henry realised. He didn't mind Vincent thinking he had a date with Hans.

More than that, that meant Vincent was not a homophobe, at least. But a tiny part of himself let itself be basked in the possibility that Hans could want more than friendship, between them.

That Henry could hug him without needing an excuse - that Henry could kiss, hold him or sleep in the same bed as Hans. That Hans could look at Henry as if he was the only person on Earth worth staring at.

Oh.

Oh. 

Henry's heart picked up pace as he suddenly felt the need to hide his face from the world. No, instead, he kept carving, concentrating on the movement of his hand to avoid hurting himself.

Sakra, he caught feelings for Hans.

Radzig had a meeting with the other professors at the University. He had not shown it, but it annoyed him deeply, sighing before he crossed the threshold of the door. 

A late evening meeting on a Friday indeed sounded like torture. But it had the merit of leaving the house to Samuel and Henry. He had managed to convince his brother to quit his excessive studying - exam season was approaching fast - to enjoy an evening and by some miracle, it had worked.

Radzig had left to be coming back home around 22, which had left them around 4 hours to themselves. So, naturally, Samuel and Henry had set up the Nintendo Switch in the living room and had invited Theresa for a pizza and mario kart evening.

The pizzas were frozen ones they would sometimes eat when Radzig couldn't cook, so all Henry had to do was throw them in the oven to heat up while Samuel was tasked with the annoying mission to untangle the mess of wires in order to hook the Switch to the living room's TV.

The kitchen smelled like pizza by the time they were cooked, the cheese bubbling and smoke forming above. Henry threw them on large plates, stumbling outside the kitchen toward the living room table, in front of the couch.

The door rung- Theresa. Vořech immediatly got up from where he was sleeping, running to the door and barking. Henry quickly opened the door. Theresa was waiting there holding a small tupperware and her own switch in the other hand. Vořech came up to her and smelled her, wide grin and panting. 

 "Hi Jindra !" She smiled. "My, my, you were quicker this time." She bent down to the dog. "Hello you ! You're such a good doggie to come and greet me !" 

Henry chuckled. "Hi, c'mon, enter, Sam's still fiddling the wires."

"And thank you for your help, Henry !" Samuel interjects from where he was standing, towing with the backwires of the television.

Theresa took off her jacket to put it with the other coats on the rack. Then, she sniffed and hummed. Henry snapped his finger toward Vořech, and the dog quickly made his way back to his small bed, next to the couch. He closed the door.

"The pizzas are already here ? I thought we would order them online."

"Not this time. We're using Radzig's emergency stash." Henry answered, sitting down on the armrest of the couch to look at a currently struggling Samuel.

That made Theresa snort, sitting in the middle of the couch in front of the TV, where his brother was blocking the view of. 

"Nice ass." Theresa said in jest.

"Don't thank my mame." He answered bluntly.

The previously black screen suddenly lit up with the switch welcome screen.

"Finally." Samuel let out. "I never understand why it's always complicated."

"It's not," Henry said with a shrug. "It would be quicker if you just give up on tidying them up every time. Wires are against tidiness as a concept."

Samuel forced a laugh, controller in hand. They had enough for the three of them, especially with the ones Theresa brought, so they could use a full controller instead of using the small half controls. He clicked on the "synchronise controllers" of the switch.

"Dibs on the pink." She quickly took the pink controller, pressing the L and R button to match them.

"Dibs on the green, then." Samuel answered - though he already had the green controller in hand.

Henry looked at the crowded table, he only had a blue or a magenta available.

"I'll take the blue." Henry pressed the buttons until they vibrated - synchronised.

Samuel sat next to Theresa, crossing his legs. Henry took the other available place, to her left. In front of them, the pizzas were cut in uneven pieces - Henry was never a good cook, a knife was different from a sword - Samuel had told him to cut them with a sword then, more times than he can count. One pizza slice was already missing, half devoured by the hungry brother. Theresa had left her Tupperware between the two pizzas - inside were cookies.

"Did you cut the pizzas ?" Samuel asked as he searched Mario Kart in the list of games.

"Look for yourself." Henry answered through bites.

The Mario Kart intro rung loud in the living room as Samuel rapidly pressed the skip button. He took a small slice that he bit into, eyeing from the side the screen. He pressed local then 3 players, fiddling with the controls. 

"Is there no plates ?" Theresa asked.

"What for ? We're eating with our fingers anyway." Henry answered.

"Animals, both of you." She said, climbing the couch toward the kitchen.

"They're the second cupboa-"

"I know !" She shouted back.

"She's not wrong. Plates are better than napkins." Samuel said, eyes fixed toward the television.

"Bootlicker." 

The character selection was easy enough, Henry didn't have to move and simply clicked on Mario. Samuel would always say he was too classic, to choose someone else but Henry liked Mario. His brother would always select King Boo; was it odd for Henry ? Yes, but he had the decency to keep his opinion to himself. Henry took Theresa's controller - but before, messily wiped his fingers on his pants- guiding the cursor to Rosalina. She would always choose her. 

"Can someone select Rosalina for me?" She asked from the kitchen.

"I did!" Henry shouted back.

She came back a few moments later while Henry and Samuel were choosing their cars. She was holding three plates that she stuck in front of them, having climbed back onto the couch - because asking for either Henry or Samuel to move "took too long". 

"You didn't tell me, how was the archery with Hans?" Theresa asked.

It was an innocent question, but Henry couldn't help the blush to climb to his cheek. He kept his eyes glued to the TV, hoping she did the same.

"Oh, it went well. It's much harder than I thought, but I managed." Henry clicked on 'ready'.

Samuel stared at him, squiting. "You're keeping something."

That was enough to make Henry blush more, ducking his head to the side.

"No !" Theresa said, a huge smile on her. 

"Are you fucking serious?" Came Samuel's answer.

"It's nuthin'." Henry said, fiddling with his controller. "I just uh."

"You fell in love with him?" Samuel asked.

"Yes...?" 

"You just realised it?" Came Theresa's answer.

Henry's head whipped around to look at her. "What do you mean "just realised it" ?" 

Theresa looked at him with a slight smile, and her expression that usually meant "he's such an idiot."

"Jindra, I could tell from the very start. You never argued with someone looking like you could explode with giddiness while actively insulting them."

"I... What ?"

"A fish would make a better boyfriend. You need to rise your standard." Samuel said, still selecting which glide to choose for the kart.

"He's not my boyfriend. There's nothing between us..."

"Yet." Theresa added. "Don't tell me I also have to kick your ass so you confess ?"

"Please do not." Samuel interrupted. "I don't want to deal with that asshole as a brother-in-law."

"I mean- he's not interested in me like that."

"Didn't he give you his family heirloom for safe keeping? I'm sorry for me that was a pretty clear love confession." Samuel said plainly, taking a pizza slice.

"He did what?" Theresa asked, gasping loudly.

Ah, that's right, he forgot to tell Theresa.

"Jindra, are you stupid or blind?" Samuel continued. "And you say there's nothing between the two of you?"

"Both at this point." Theresa argued.

Henry could only stay silent, looking through the time at the hospital. Yes, they grew closer during that time but... Hans only wanted friendship, no? Unless...

"Look, the two neurons are trying to connect..." Theresa whispered.

"They better fail." Samuel whispered back, prompting the young woman to stifle a laugh through a snort.

Henry shook his head. "It's... No. He didn't mean it like that. He only gave it to me to annoy his uncle further. It's not a love confession or... anything. It was only to get back at him."

Theresa sighed, shaking her head while Samuel snickered to himself. 

"Seriously Henry, ever since you started being friends with him that's all you talk about." His brother explained, defeated. "If he truly makes you happy, then fine. I will endure family dinners with him present."

Henry felt a pang of wmarth in his chest - Samuel had always been very clearly annoyed by Hans, since the beginning. So to hear that meant a lot to Henry.

"We're not even dating yet." Henry said, shoudlers shaking with laughter.

"Then you better remedy it." Theresa said, elbow nudging his flank. "Look, you managed to convince the number 1 Hans hater."

"I am honoured that this is how you view me." Samuel replied, sarcastic. "Is everyone ready ? Can we start now?"

"Yeah, yeah." Henry said.

Samuel clicked on the first world, and the three of them readied themselves for the race.

Chapter Text

Henry was concentrated on his phone, digging through some Instagram Reels Hans had sent him that he couldn't watch earlier. It was all he could do, waiting in the corridors of the university.

Hans was sitting around, probably bored in the room just behind Henry, listening detachedly to the professor's monotonous voice ; Henry could hear it from the other side of the wall. He was glad school was long finished for him, he never could handle sitting still doing nothing but listening for hours on end. It had brought him quite a few troubles in middle school, and with Fritz and Matthew as friends... well it only made it worse. Hans had asking him to join him after his last class of the day, something about modern history. 

He heard the classroom in front of him finish the lecture - something about the history of the Czech constitution, before a bunch of chairs creaked and students began pouring out. He didn't pay much attention until a very familiar face walked out.

"Sam ? I didn't know you were right there." Henry asked, tucking away his phone.

His brother seemed surprised, stopping in the hall with another man - probably a friend - next to him. He wore his usual black leather and band T-shirt, way too many necklaces to be practical looped around his neck. And would you look at that, Henry thought, Samuel even went the extra mile to wear his black Kohl. His friend on the other hand had brown hair, a blue beret tucked underneath an equally blue knitted vest from which a white buttoned up shirt peaked through - a classic good-boy outfit. The beret had quite a few pins on there, the one that immediately caught Henry's eyes being a Liechtensteiner flag. It was quite striking to see the two of them next to one another.

"Why are you surprised I study there." Samuel mused. "Waiting for Hans, I presume ?"

"Well, a bit hard to wait for someone I didn't know was there, is it?" Henry joked, a smile on his lips. He nodded toward the other man. "Hi, you're his friend, I'm guessing."

"John." He extended a hand toward him. Henry gladly took it, shaking it.

"Henry. Samuel's brother." Was quickly added.

John looked surprised, but his surprised quickly melted to a smile as he extended a finger toward him. "But of course, Henry ! Hans Capon's friend, yes I recall ! Nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well. I didnt know Sam finally got a friend here." Henry winked, hand coming to hit his brother on the shoulder.

"Oh well, quite hard to talk to you about him when you're too busy rambling about that Capon of yours." Samuel shrugged. "We'll be late to the next class. See you later."

Henry bid them goodbye as they walked away - but not without Samuel throwing one last glance toward his brother, to which Henry answered by throwing him the middle finger. Samuel reposted by flipping him off as well, using the hand that had looped itself around John's shoulders. Henry was surprised to meet John ; his brother didn't really strike him as the type to make friends with someone who looked so different from his usual style - Theresa excluded. 

The classroom behind the wall suddenly bore many chairs creaking and dragging across the floor, voices of students rising over the last words of their lesson ; it seemed Hans had finished the classes for today. Students began pouring out of the room once more, little to no one giving him any attention. Henry caught sight of Mara who simply smiled at him and waved, to which he waved back. The young man focused on the faces, many unknown or vaguely familiar, until he saw Hans within them. His friend dragged his backpack to the floor against the wall opposite of him, eyes trained on his phone with his headphone already secured over his ears. His eyes were downcast, his mouth forming a slight scowl as he stared at the screen. He wore a red hoodie with yellow accents, and Henry's eyes dragged lower to see a familiar ring adorning his right hand. His left arm had been taken out of the cast, though he still couldn't use it very much, the strength not having been regained in the muscles.

Henry casual slid next to him, a smile on his lips.

"Hi."

He watched as Hans' face morphed from boredom to a wide smile, eyes crinkling with it, blue eyes shining bright.

"Henry ! Hiding from me, didn't you ? I didn't see you there."

"Oh aye, hiding in the middle of a corridor is best." Henry bit back.

"Shut it." Hans laughed. "So, what have you planned this afternoon ?"

"I dunno. We could go back to your place, or mine. I thought about continuing a little project of mine, but I doubt you'd want to spend the afternoon at the forge."

Hans' smile faltered for a second. "The forge ?" He said with a laugh. "Do you want me to sweat to death ? Sure."

Henry cocked his head. "Really ? You don't mind ?"

"As long as you provide me with a fresh drink and a fan." 

The young man rolled his eyes. "It's not that warm in there. Especially if you stand around and do nothing, actually you get quite cold doing nothing."

"We'll see." Hans shot him one of those wide smiles, proud and haughty, like he just challenged Henry.

"Alright, smithy it is."

Vincent had already left by the time Henry and Hans arrived. He had sent him a message to warn him he'd get back to the smithy with a guest, to which Vincent had replied a text that made Henry shove his phone deeper in his pockets in hopes that Hans doesn't see. The door was locked, but Henry had a copy of the key and unlocked the door with it, taking pebbles at its usual place. 

"You've actually never been in it, no ?" Henry asked Hans. He was standing in the middle of the reception area.

"I actually don't think so." He answered.

The young man gestured toward the closed doors of the forge, opening them wide to reveal the room. Henry extended an arm toward the inside, biding Hans to enter. It was starting to cool down within the forge, though still warm to know it had been used recently.

"So ? What do you think?"

"It's.... both bigger and smaller than I thought." Hans said, looking at the oven and anvils scattered in the middle of the room. "I thought the anvil would be bigger."

Henry laughed. "Maybe you shouldn't believe what Minecraft says."

His friend exhaled a chuckle. "Fuck you." The bite was absent.

The young blacksmith turned toward a pile of iron and unfinished project, stacked in an old cardboard box he kept underneath one of the tables. He rummaged inside, searching for a dagger he had started - he still needed to sharpen it, though only slightly. He was making a replica, not a working blade. Henry had recieved the various engravings on the pommel and guard the day before, it just needed assembling. When he found the pieces, Henry picked up the many tools on the table and put them down on the anvil. He wouldn't need to do much hammering today, though. Hans had found refuge on the second anvil, unused, resting on top of it. 

"You aren't a piece of metal, Hans, get off before you tip it over." Henry said while fidgeting with the oven to start.

"C'mon, it's probably heavy as fuck, I can rest on it just fine." 

"It's your funeral... And your money if you break it."

"I promise." Hans said, holding an arm up like he was in front of a judge. Yet the way he smiled told a very different story.

Henry picked the dagger again - it was a simple knight dagger, the likes of which was common during the late Middle Ages. Hans looked at the blade, eyes glinting. Maybe Henry should start with the handle, to get it over with.

"You forged that ?"

"No, actually, the miners found it like that." Henry bit back. "Yes, yes, I paid a good fortune so that I didn't have to forge it."

"I knew you were a fraud since the beginning." 

"Oh, and what are you going to do ? Tell the police ?"

"I might be able to shut it, for the right price." Hans answered, teeth peaking through a devilish smile.

Henry felt his heartbeat pick up. "We both know you can never keep your mouth shut." He replied, the smile on his face growing bigger.

"And we both know the metal doesn't matter when forging."

"Oh fuck off Hans, we aren't having this conversation again." Henry replied swiftly, prompting Hans to throw his head back in a manic fit of laughter.

The blacksmith picked up a piece of wood from the pile of handles, it was an ebony one, with interesting detail, though it would be covered. He took it in hand, it sat comfortably in his strong hands. But Hans' hands were vastly different from his own.

"Hold this."

"Manual labor ?" Hans said, incredulous. "I didn't come here to work, but watch you work."

"And you will when you'll hold onto it." Henry extended the piece of ebony wood to Hans.

The latter took it in hand, fiddling with it, and observing the grain. His fingers were much slimmer and longer than Henry's.

"How does it feel in your hand ? Comfortable ? Try holding it like you would a knife." 

Hans twirled it around again, his fingers closing around it. It was a bit too big for him. 

"It's alright, if not slightly too wide."

Henry gestured for Hans to give it back and when it was back in his hand, he turned toward their wood carver. The oven had already warmed the place well, fire running around the cylinder. The woodcarver was easily set - Henry only had to attach the ebony wood from both side and flip a button to start it. He flipped some safety glasses over his eyes - Vincent was always adamant about flying wood debris, something about an old coworker of his getting blinded by a rogue wood chip. He picked a carving tool up and started slimming down the shaft to a smaller radius, just enough to be comfortable in Hans' grasp. 

It was something he thought a lot about. He had started working on a project almost on a whim, in order to distract him when Hans was at the hospital and Henry couldn't visit him - but as he continued shaping it so had the idea shaped itself in his brain. So, he slowly turned this distraction into a gift, for Hans. Henry had planned to give it to him when he left the hospital, but he couldn't give him a simple dagger when he had learned about Hans' ancestry. It wouldn't be special enough. Henry had asked a friend of Vincent to carve him a Latin phrase onto the cross-guard- Audentes Fortuna Iuvat, something Hans taught Henry to say. And on the pommel, the leipa cross, same as the ring resting proudly on Hans' ring finger.

Once when Henry was particularly tired from the forge, he had scared himself half to death when he thought he lost it, but calmed immediatly when he remembered he had given it back to Hans. He never would have forgiven himself if he lost it.

Henry stopped the machine,and continued the rest by hand. The handle shouldn't be perfectly round, rather an oval shape to better fit against the knuckles. Once finished and carved to a satisfying size, Henry rubbed a fine sandpaper over the ebony to remove the roughness and smooth it over. He blew on it, the wood particles flying in the air. 

"How about now ?" He asked as Hans picked it up again.

"It's good." The fingers were closed comfortably around it, and the slight oval shape was perfectly tucked against the fold of the flesh.

"Perfect." Henry let out, taking it again. He just needed to get the hole now. And that involved heating the blade.

"Why do you ask me about it ? Can't you see it for yourself ?"

"My hands are bigger than yours." Henry explained. "Something that is comfortable in my grasp can be too wide for your hands, so I want to check, that's all."

The hole was rapidly carved, wide enough to fit snuggly around the metal handle. He could feel Hans' stare as he worked through the steps, mechanical to him. He hadn't moved from his anvil-chair. 

"I thought there was going to be more hammering than that." Hans let out, yet he didn't seem to complain.

"Well, if I finish this blade today I could maybe start working on another and then you'd see the hammering."

"Maybe, but I won't hold you hostage in your own forge just to sate my curiosity." Hans chuckled, eyes gliting, gaze burned on the blade.

henry discarded the handle- it would be done for down - and picked the dagger up. He snatched the tongs from the oven's roof and held onto the blade, engulfing it into the heat. He just needed to warm it just enough to sharpen it. 

The blade took the heat well, and soon enough, it was hot enough so Henry took it out - it was starting to change colour. The blacksmith carefully held the blade toward the cylinder of oil and dipped it entirely. When he did so, flames suddenly erupted from the oil and engulfed the blade. He heard somewhere behind him a gasp and a few steps growing closer.

"Don't come too close you'll burn yourself."

"You have flames licking at your fucking fingertips and you tell me I'll burn myself for taking three steps?"

Henry took the blade out, oil dripping down the edges. He brought it closer to him, observing the blade for any defect - there was none.

"I'm used to it. I'm pretty sure I burned the nerve endings there."

He wiped the blade with a cloth. It was still hot, but he could sharpen it now. It was easy and quick, he didn't need a working edge, but shapen it enough to give an illusion of a sharp edge. The grindstone was on the other side of the oven, and still had the grit Vincent last used - thankfully he didn't need to replace it or use another one. He toyed with the edge against the sandpaper, sparks flying alongside the dagger. He created two edges on each side, running from each side of the fuller. Hans was once again standing near, observing him closely. Henry turned off the grindstone, turning the blade around to inspect the edges. It was satisfactory.

"Is it finished ?" Hans asked.

"Almost, I just need to assemble it, wrap the leather around the hilt and it's done."

Henry picked up the cross-guard he had kept hidden within a cloth. He took it out carefully, and it was beautiful ; the iron was glinting with the artificial light, the carved part reading "Audentes Fortuna Iuvat" with a vine extending to each part of quillons where a H had been ingraved - for "Hans". He slipped it onto the blade, the metal striking each other with a satisfying clank - then, wrapping the handle with glue, stuck the ebony wood onto the metal bit and finally - the pommel, octogonal in shape, just like the sword in the Museum, with the leipa cross standing proudly in the middle. Henry took the hammer and gave a firm hit on the top of the pommel, sealing the dagger for good. Henry took a long piece of leather and wrapped it ceremoniously, gluing the edges and tucking them in - it was finished, now.

Henry turned to see Hans looming next to him, eyes widened and fixed onto the now finished dagger. He held it toward Hans.

"For you." He said simply, relishing in the way Hans' eyes glanced into his, frozen in place.

"Really ?"

"I dunno, is there another Hans Capon of Pirkstein ?"

Hans chuckled. "The Pirkstein castle isn't ours anymore, it's the church's."

"You know what I meant. So ? Do you like it ?"

Hans picked it up, smoothing a finger over every single detail - the blade was still warm to the touch, but it wasn't unbearably so. He traced over the engraved H on the quillons, then turned the dagger to observe the pommel.

"I- how much do I owe you?"

"What?"

"For the blade. It's... it's too perfect to not pay you."

Henry felt warmth climb to his throat and face as he turned his head to the ground.

"You owe me nothing, Hans. I just want to gift you this, can't I?" he said with a shrug.

Arms switfly encircled his frame, and Hans' head came to rest against his shoulder. Henry was taken aback, but wasted no time in hugging Hans back.

"I love it, thank you." He whispered against his shoulder.

Henry patted his shoulder, a small smile on his lips. He felt his heart thrum low and hard. 

"Of course."

Chapter Text

The exam season was there. Not quite started, but it was one week away and all the students in Czechia were amidst heavy studying.

Normally, Henry wouldn't care, he had finished school a long time ago now - though it usually meant seeing his brother less or needing to be quieter in the late hours for Samuel to study. However, he had Hans now, in his life. It was true their outing somewhat stopped over the course of the last week or so, but they always made sure to see one another. 

And tonight, Hans didn't know Henry would be here.

Arguably, showing up unannounced to your best friend's house in the throes of studying would be a bad idea, but Henry knew that bad habit of his, forgetting to eat when he'd study for a long while. Henry didn't understand how could someone forget to eat ; his own stomach would scream bloody murder if dinner would be late, so spending a day or so barely eating ? That would be torture.

Henry walked through the corridor of Hans' building. His stomach growled already, now that warm food was dangling from a paper bag from his hand. He had picked up some food at an Asian food store near. It wasn't much, two bowls of ramen and some sushi plates. They were still warm, he could feel the hot air escaping the bag.

The door to apartment n°8 finally came into view, and Henry didn't wait long to ring the doorbell - he let it ring for a few continuous seconds to make sure Hans heard and, eventually, the door cracked open.

Hans was standing, his hair tousled, eyebags clear and a puzzled expression on his face quickly morphing into a smile. 

"Henry ! What are you doing here ?" He said.

The young blacksmith just lifted the bag into view. "Saving your tortured stomach."

Hans laughed and bowed deeply, "My stomach thanks you." He let Henry in. "I... I didn't realize it was late already."

"I know, and I figured you wouldn't have eaten either." Henry answered, setting down the food on the table.

"Touché."

Hans' studies had colonized the space ; the round table was covered in paper, books and his laptop. He had probably a few days worth of dishes stacked like Tetris on the sink, crumbs everywhere ; it was a mess. He took out a clean plate - one of the few remaining, to put down the ramen bowl next to the computer, making sure to not cover any critical papers. 

"Fucking ramen ?" Hans said, picking up the warm box. "Henry, I could kiss you !" 

Warmth spread around his chest - surely he was blushing too. Henry shook his head turning it to the side in an attempt to hide his face.

"Wait till you see the sushi at least." He teased.

"Not sure I'll be able to wait." Hans teased back.

His friend began gathering the papers around into a neat pile, to leave some place for the food. Hans closed his laptop and hurled it into the cushions of the couch. Henry stared with shock in his eyes ; was he not scared to break it ? Shaking his head in disbelief, Henry took out the rest of the food ; the sushi plates had around twenty sushis or so, enough for two people - he had made sure to not pick up any spicy ones, Hans never liked those.

"You don't have to stop your studying on my account" Henry said. 

"And if I want to ? A break will do me some good... And I don't want to bore you to death with it."

"Your kindness is unbound."

Henry took another plate for his own ramen, that he put in front of the next chair. He looked around then. Dirty dishes wasn't the only dirty thing around ; he also had a pile of clothes, the remnant of a broken dish swept against the wall with the broom shielding it... The exam season was hard on him, it seemed. Hans was standing in front of his TV, spotify open on it and searching through a playlist. The table was semi clean, traces of highlighters, pencil scratches and such littering the side Hans was studying on, and the neat pile he created of thing were weighted down by... his new dagger. It was neatly placed on top of all the books about Czech history.

"Looks like your gift is useful." Henry said, with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. I, uh, I like having it close. When I study."

Henry hummed and sat down while Hans was still fiddling with the Spotify playlist on his TV. A familiar tune reached his ears ; David Bowie. Not bad.

"So, shall we eat then ? I feel quite hungry."

"Yeah yeah. When are you not anyway ?" Hans said, sitting down to his right. 

He eagerly opened the ramen box - they were still warm, thankfully. The box came with wooden chopsticks - so the pair of them broke them in and began eating. Henry had taken the simple ramen, with bits of beef and cut eggs and some mushrooms. It was cheap and filling, perfect for students.

"Wait wait wait, Henry," Hans finished his mouthful, "how the fuck do you hold those chopsticks?" 

"What ? What's wrong with how I hold them ?" 

Henry looked down, he held them between his thumb and index - he had taught himself how to eat with those a few years back.

"That's not how you do it, you yokel. Look."

Henry watched Hans position the chopsticks, one snug against the bottom of his thumb, the other between his index and thumb. He tried as Hans showed him to - it wasn't very comfortable, and when he tried to pick the noodles up - they immediately left its grasps, falling into the soup in a splash, droplet landing on his shirt. Hans' reaction was immediate, laughing with his head thrown back while Henry wiped his shirt.

"I think I'll stick to how I do it." 

"No, no, you just need to practice it."

"I'm too hungry to practice, I just need to eat."

Hans waved his hand, "at least try again with the sushi this time."

Henry shook his head but complied, taking the first sushi and picking it up - the grasp felt wobbly, but it stayed.... until Henry's hand faltered and the sushi dropped - right in his ramen. Hans laughed harder, at this, hand hitting the table in an effort to calm himself. Henry quickly took the sushi in hand, fingertips dipping into the hot ramen soup. It had begun to break down, leaving bits of rice in the soup. He ate it in one bite, mouth curling into a big smile and trying hard not to laugh.

"Okay," Hans said while exhaling, his outburst finally under control. "I think that's enough practice."

Henry rolled his eyes, smiling wide. He took a spoonful - spoonful ? Chopstickful ? A bite of ? - of noodles using his proper technique and ate in earnest. Hans mirrored him, but varied - he took some sushi, then some ramen back and forth.

They ate in comfortable silence together, their thighs every so brushing against one another, yet neither moved. Henry had finished his ramen first, despite Hans giving him his eggs. He picked at the sushi then, eating the ones on the left to leave those on the right for Hans.

"Thank you." Hans said in a small voice, when he finished the last sushi.

Henry felt his stomach churn. "It's nothing, Hans. I knew you wouldn't-"

"No, not about that." A pause, a shaky exhale. "It's... I know I haven't been, the best of friends. You did... so much for me and I have yet to repay half the shit you did."

"I didn't do those things to be repaid, Hans. I did those things because you are important for me."

It was then that Hans looked at him, a sad smile on his face, eyes turning misty and his lips the reddest Henry's ever seen it - he couldn't help his gaze lingering on them.

"You mean a lot to me too but... It feels like I don't show it. I mean, you're... Before with Hanush there weren't anyone, before you."

Henry felt warmth spread around his stomach, butterflies he'd wish he could kick away - he was his friend. He took his hand, wrapped it with his own in an effort to show sympathy. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"See that's what I mean..." He shook his head. "I... you.... It's..." A sigh. "You mean a lot to me, more than you know."

The warmth coiled so hard in his stomach, it felt like he couldn't eat lest it'd be too much. Henry only smiled, squeezing the hand that laid between his fingers. Hans leaned over and-

Henry's eyes widened at the press of lips against this own - heart jumping to his throat. He could taste the ramen and sushi still, despite the lightest of press. They were gone in an instant, as Hans suddenly stood up eyes wide open and colour rising to his cheeks - Henry stayed there, surprise rendering him immobile, the only thing on his mind the kiss they just shared.

"I..." Hans said, taking a few steps away, turning toward the kitchen. "I'm... I'm sorry, I just uh..." He was at the verge of tears, voice trembling.

He opened the faucet, took some dish-soap and started to frantically scrub at some plate. Henry stood up from his chair, the poor thing tumbling over on the ground in a loud clank - but he did not care, his eyes transfixed on Hans' figure. He crossed the distance, gripping Hans by the shoulder to spin him around. Their lips met again, no longer a simple press of lips - Henry tilted his head, capturing Hans' lips between his own, trying to pass everything he wanted to tell him, everything he felt, through it.

The sponge that Hans had in his grasp fell in a wet splat next to them - his hands tugged Henry closer, gripping at his hoodie with fervour. 

It felt right, warmth spreading through every single part of his body, feeling Hans so close, pressed close and lips moving against his own. He could become addicted to the feeling, the lips moving against his own, the hands gripping him close, the soft exhale coming from Hans' nose against his cheek.

Slowly, Henry guided Hans toward the couch, steps sure, relishing in the way Hans didn't even break the kiss and blindly followed his call. Henry spun them around so his calves would hit against the edge of the couch. 

Their kiss stopped then - Hans was beautiful, red and kiss drunk lips, eyes glossy and half lidded, his blue eyes completely replaced by the black of his irises. Henry nodded in question, hands slowly dragging down his form to hug at his lower hips. Hans nodded back and so, gripping his thighs, Henry sat on the couch to drag Hans' body on his lap, legs on each side. 

Instinctively, Hans' hands slid up to his shoulders while Henry's stayed on his thighs. Henry was about to reunite their lips again but Hans sat straight.

"The laptop." He said urgently.

The laptop which was right next to Henry, Hans' knee digging into it. Henry let out a soft exhale as Hans grabbed it and- exiting Henry's lap for a split second - put it down on the coffee table. He regained his earlier position on the lap, head turning to reunite their lips again.

"Didn't want to break it." Hans said between kisses, murmuring against Henry's lips.

"That's why you hurled it at the couch earlier." Henry answered in a teasing tone.

Hans crashed their lips against each other ; Henry wasn't sure if it was to shut him up or not. Far from him to complain, though.