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Subaru Natsuki wakes up with a scream on his lips.
Eyes flying wide with terror, he stares up to the ceiling, with its geometric, symmetrical patterns scattering outwards, that once was a symbol of death, of loss and pain, and chokes down the screech that threatens to erupt. It coalesces into a harsh, cut off gurgle in the back of his throat, like the sound of choking on blood. A hand flies to cover his lips, smothering the sound with the gentleness of a pillow over the face.
Subaru pants under his palm. Sweat drips down his forehead, mixing with tears. His body shakes violently. Recollections trickle in. Falling snow growing ever deeper until all he sees is white. Frozen carcasses shattering into stardust. A thousand pairs of beady red eyes.
Subaru flinches, stomach roiling with stress. Stop it. Stop thinking about it. You’re going to wake her up, if you haven’t already. Nausea churning, he turns his head to the side, checking on his companion.
There, at his side, Beako lay with her arm outstretched. Her hand lay perfectly still inches away from him. She remains perfectly still, eyes closed. Ever serene she remains in her slumber.
Thank goodness. Subaru would hate himself more than is usual if he woke her up with his nightmares. Again.
Carefully, Subaru pries himself out of bed, grimacing as the way his sweat soaked skin sticks to his sheets, and stands up slowly. Beako stays dead asleep, undisturbed. At least one of them is going to get sleep tonight. He knows himself well enough to know that there is no way that he’s going to be able to fall asleep soon, not when he’s this keyed up.
It’s like an itching under his skin, a crawling in his bones, this anxious energy that demands release. He gets like this sometimes, on long, boring days without distractions, or like this time, during long nights in which he’s woken by nightmares. Such is the intensity of the emotion that plagues him.
Stepping gingerly, as to not make the floor creak - an activity he’s gotten too practiced at - Subaru sneaks out of his bedroom.
Silent and dark. This is what the halls of the Miload Manor are at this time of night. Everything that made this place warm, the people, the light shining through the windows, has left with the setting of the sun, rendering the halls cold and dead. It’s unnerving. It reminds him of his horrible first day in Lugunica. The Loot House was dark like this, when he stumbled across the corpses of Felt and Old Man Rom. Coiling and curling, the anxiety the remainder provokes makes it unbearable to stay still.
Subaru starts to walk. Aimless, he patters down the halls, avoiding the rooms where he knows his friends sleep. Everyone had long gone to bed. It’s only him here, alone. There’s nothing to do. Nobody to talk to. Only Subaru and the demons in his head.
So he wanders. Up and down halls, through stairwells. In the depths of the night, the shadows are long and deep, dark like the Unseen Hand and the void that cloaks Satella like a dress. His footsteps provide a blessed rhythm, one that his Great-Rabbit fast heart can’t slow to match. Subaru comes to a stop around a corner, pausing for a flare of anxiety he doesn’t understand, and listens. The thunks of his feet on the hard wooden floor are the only noise he hears.
Wait, those aren’t his own footsteps.
Subaru looks up just in time to see a figure turn the corner. Hidden from the faint illumination from the moon, he could not see any identifying details of this person. His heart pounds in his chest as adrenaline is pumped into his veins. His brain goes wild, and for one illogical moment, he believes that the Bowel Hunter has come one again to spill his insides all over the floor.
The figure steps forwards, in front of a window. Light from the full moon spills into the manor, illuminating the silhouette. Subaru sees gray hair, green clothes, and a tired face squinting at him.
“Oh, it’s just you, Otto,” Subaru sighs in staggering relief, setting a hand on his slowly settling heart. “What are you doing up at this time? Did you fall asleep at your desk again?”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Otto has an awful habit of working until late in the evenings, getting too engrossed in his work. He’ll pass out at his desk on occasion if someone doesn’t interrupt him and remind him to get some damn rest, the idiot.
“I’ll admit I lost track of time,” Otto confesses, rubbing his face sleepily. He’s not wearing his usual cloak or hat. “I was heading back to my room. What about you, Natsuki-san?”
Subaru plasters a smile on his face, shoving his anxiety down, down, down to where it can’t bother anyone. He lies. “Same thing really. Fell asleep on the couch. Gonna go to bed.”
Otto gives him an unimpressed look, the same expression he gets when his patience for teasing is getting thin. The same look he got back during the Sanctuary. “Natsuki-san,” Otto says warningly, narrowing his eyes at him.
Subaru lets the fake smile drop off his face. He should’ve known better to think he could pretend. Not to Otto, who saw past his pretenses from the moment they met. All too clever, that guy.
The fake energy, the cheer, is all gone, leaving the bone-deep exhaustion and burning anxiety bubble up to the surface, showing itself clear to anyone who looks. But it’s only Otto and him here.
The irritation fades from Otto’s expression in time with the fading of Subaru’s act. “What’s going on? You can talk to me, you know,” Otto insists, his gentle features twisting into concern.
That is one thing that Subaru hadn’t doubted. You wouldn’t know it from a first impression, but if there’s one thing that Otto is, it’s reliable. That he has proved time and time again. But there in lies the problem. Subaru should not have to rely on him with this.
“I know, I know. It’s just… I don’t wanna shove my burdens onto other people,” Subaru mutters. He can’t bring himself to meet Otto’s gaze, see what face he’s making. The shadow he casts on the wall is far safer.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Otto says, his voice scolding, shadow moving as he gestures.
More like Otto has pounded this lesson into his head. Rely on your friends, Subaru Natsuki. Don’t try handling everything alone, Subaru Natsuki.
But he hasn’t! He’s had Beako help him through these kinds of nights, the ones in which he shivers and shakes, unable to get the horrid imagery out of his head. Images of blood soaking the mansion walls, of a landscape blanketed in snow, of a village covered in burning corpses. That’s what he should be doing, right?
‘I don’t recall you asking for my help, Natsuki-san.’ Those words from before echo in his head as the present Otto lets out a frustrated sigh as the silence stretches.
Subaru’s composure begins to crack like a corpse frozen to the bone. Otto’s anger is too much. He doesn’t think he can take another scolding without shattering into a million pieces.
A hand lands on his shoulder and Subaru flinches viscerally. Immediately, the contact is gone. He bites his tongue, twitching with the urge to chase that warmth that left all too soon. He still can't bring himself to meet Otto’s gaze.
He feels like he’s barely holding himself together, like any moment his body would start falling apart in a slop of gore. His guts would spill out, his blood splatter the walls, his bones fracture and shatter under untold forces. Subaru in his entirety would come apart in a mockery of all the deaths he’s endured.
“Natsuki-san, should I go get Emilia-sama, or-?” Otto asks, voice alarmed, as despite his best effort, Subaru's eyes grow watery.
“N-no! I don’t want to wake anyone,” Subaru interrupts before Otto can finish his sentence, shaking his head hard enough that he can feel his brain rattle. He blinks, feeling rather faint.
“Then at least you should go to bed yourself. It’s late, and you’ll feel better after you rest,” Otto insists, taking a single step towards him.
Subaru huffs a laugh, really more of a sigh than anything. “Hypocrite,” he mutters. “You’re up with me, aren’t you?”
Oh, Otto, Otto, Otto. Always terrible at taking his own advice, that one. Always talking big about making calculated choices, and not being reckless, when he’s the one who risked his life for the sake of a man who he’d known for a scant few days.
Otto doesn’t say anything in response, refusing to rise for the carelessly thrown and poor quality bait. His gaze weighs heavily on Subaru, boring down on his shoulders. Subaru knows what he wants, for him to give up his pretences and just say what’s going on with him. It’s not that easy, but Otto doesn’t know that.
It feels like bile rising up in his stomach, all the things he can’t say. There’s a primal desire to let it out, to vomit all that ails him, spilling his guts in the less literal way. It would be ugly, smelly, messy, and gross, but he’d feel better after. But he can’t. Satella won’t let him.
But, despite it all, he wants to. What should he do? What can he do?
“What should I do?” Subaru utters, barely louder than a whisper, a whimper, really, with how his voice trembles pathetically. A pitiful plea for the choices to be taken off his hands, for someone to come fix his mess for him.
Of course, there only ever one answer that Otto would give him.
“I’ve said this once and I will say it again. Rely on your friends, Subaru Natsuki. Rely on me,” Otto says to him firmly.
Finally, he looks up, meeting Otto’s eyes. He looks dead serious in a way that Subaru hardly ever sees outside of business, an intensity in his eyes directed firmly on him, strong enough to make him want to squirm. There’s a stubbornness there, rock solid and unyielding. There’s also frustration, sharp. But most of all, what he sees is -
Compassion. Concern. Affection.
The last of Subaru’s composure snaps. His throat contorts around a sob, vision growing blurry as tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. He’s crumbling. He can’t take this anymore.
He wants… he wants…
Surely, surely since Otto wants this so much, it’s fine that Subaru relies on him like this, that he seeks comfort from a friend, right?
Subaru takes a shaky step forward, then a second, and then, before he can think too deeply about it, crosses the remaining distance between them. He presses his forehead into the crook of Otto’s neck and feels his body tense up like a bowstring. His own body is buzzing.
“Please…” Subaru doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. Comfort? Absolution? Someone to take away the weight of the lives hanging on his frail shoulders?
Otto relaxes, and a second later he feels a pair of arms loop around his back. Subaru shudders. Things are starting to feel floaty.
‘Then all you have to do at the end is yell ‘believe me!’ at the end! Because we’re friends!’
He weeps quietly into Otto’s shoulder. It’s warm. A hand strokes down his spine, making Subaru shudder and press his face in harder. The hard line of Otto’s collarbone presses into his cheek.
They don’t touch like this. There’s always been a step or two between each other. It’s not like with Beako where he can and will pick her up and cart her around, ignoring the half-hearted indignation and sharp words. It’s not like Petra, who gazes up at him happily when he pats her head, or even like Garf, who carried with him a kind of physicality that made him easy to bump shoulders.
No, between him and Otto it’s always been rough. A fist to the face. An arm over the shoulders. Teasingly draping himself over the other’s back when he’s holed himself up in his office, distracting him so he’ll take care of himself for once. It’s never tender. Not since Otto pressed a hand over his heart.
“Let’s go sit down,” Otto says softly into his ear, pulling away just enough to take Subaru by the hand. He shivers with the loss of the warmth, but obediently allows himself to be shepherded.
The warmth of Otto’s hand around his feels like the only thing keeping him on the ground. Like if he lets go for an instant, Subaru will float away into the sky, never to land again. He holds onto that sensation, everything else fading into the background, as Otto ushers him into a nearby room.
Subaru hardly registers where they are now, some kind of sitting room, maybe, before a hand on his shoulder gently pushes him down. A soft cushion compresses under his weight. A couch.
His body tilts as another weight settles in beside him. Arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. Subaru’s breath catches in his throat, but he reciprocates, leaning into the embrace.
Subaru’s shoulders shake and shudder as tiny little sobs wrench themselves out of his throat. Tears fall from his eyes in a constant stream. The emotions that he’s spent so long ignoring, suppressing, all the fear and agony, are forcing their way out of him, tearing him up like glass shards on the way out.
Too much, everything is too much. It’s been so ever since he came to this world. Everything has been violence and death and he hasn’t been able to catch a damn break between the assassins and mabeasts. Teeth and massive maws flash through his mind. A whine, high-pitched and pathetic squeaks through his teeth, muffled by the fabric of Otto’s shirt.
“Shhh, shhhh,” Otto hushes, tender like he’s never heard before. “It’s alright. You’re alright. Just breathe.”
In the face of such uncharacteristic softness, Subaru instinctively complies. He takes in a deep, ragged breath, struggling to compose himself. It catches at his throat. He tries not to focus on the emotions raging inside him, the memories pressing into his consciousness. The hand on his back, petting smoothly down his spine is much nicer. Just focus on that.
“What’s going on with you?” Otto mutters. It’s quiet, probably directed to only himself, but as close as he is, he may as well be yelling into his ear. Subaru feels a phantom hand reaching into his chest, caressing, squeezing. A violation. He sees Emilia, blood leaking from her mouth, slumped on the mansion floor.
“It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk about it! I’m here for you, alright?” Otto hastily explains, fingers slipping into Subaru’s hair, scratching against his scalp. Ah, he’s shaking again. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”
Subaru’s brain trembles. He wants this to be over. Can’t it be enough that he went through this in the first place? Why does it have to follow him more persistently than any Mabeast?
“You can cry as much as you need to.”
Pressing his cheek against Otto’s collarbone, Subaru gasps for breath. He’s been stripped clean of his masks, his justifications, leaving bare the agony hidden in his soul. Against the comfort of a friend, Subaru cries and cries.
He doesn’t know how long he spends like this, trembling softly, wailing quietly into Otto’s shoulder as the he comforts him. It feels like an eternity before he hollows out, all his emotions spilled out. He feels like a wrung out rag.
Subaru sighs, his eyes drooping. He’s absolutely exhausted. Crying always does this to him. He should move, get to bed, but Otto is just too comfy… and he’s so tired…
His pillow moving brings him out of that sweet, sweet fall into slumber. Subaru groans out a quiet complaint. He was comfortable.
“Sorry,” Otto murmurs. It’s soft, but the sound of his voice brings Subaru further out of his half-doze regardless. Subaru shifts position, peeking one eye open to peer up at his friend, who’s looking back with half-lidded eyes.
This is all so soft. Although too tired to care, Subaru is well aware of just how… intimate this situation is, for lack of a better word. A swell of fondness fills his chest for Otto. Subaru is surrounded by such kind people. He doesn’t deserve them. Can’t possibly give as much as he’s taken. Can only make futile attempts at repayment.
…Otto wants him to talk to him, right? That’s all he asked of him. One small, reasonable request.
The problem is: Subaru knows hell. He’s seen it, time and time again. From the very first day in this world, which met him with blades opening guts and until the fall of Roswaal’s plans, it had been hardly anything but. The shaman. Rem and Ram. The Whale. The Witch Cult. The Rabbit. The seventeen deaths and counting. But his hell never existed.
All these things, all this death, this destruction, the betrayal and pain, the suffering that piles up like a mountain of carcasses, it only exists inside of Subaru’s head. This hell is only real for him. He can’t talk about it, won’t talk about it. For even if he could, what’s the point?
What is the point in talking about all that has happened to him?
“Why bother?” Subaru mutters. This quiet question breaks the silence, the comfortable atmosphere surrounding them. He can feel Otto’s chest shift, and the weight of eyes on him.
“Pardon?” Otto sounds confused. Fair, Subaru is responding to a request made like a good half hour beforehand.
“Why bother talking about this? It’s not like it will change anything, so why burden you by dredging up my crap?” Subaru elaborates tiredly, shifting where he sits. Otto sure is boney. He ought to eat more.
“Natsuki-san…” Otto mumbles back. He shifts, more insistently, and puts a hand on his shoulder, and pushes him back, putting space between them. Otto looks at him with a hard expression -
And flicks him on the forehead. Subaru winces, hard, at the sudden burst of pain.
“Ow…” Subaru whines, rubbing his forehead. A hard pit forms in his gut, chasing away any semblance of peace he had.
This is just an expression of frustration, he knows. Subaru is being dense as hell and Otto is trying to knock some sense into him, again. It doesn’t mean that he’s trying to actually hurt him (even if it did hurt). Otto wouldn’t really hurt him.
But Otto has hurt him before. Shoved him right off a moving carriage. A sacrifice to the White Whale in a desperate bid to save his own life.
‘Die! Die so I can live!’
Subaru never held it against him, not even the instant he hit the ground. He got it, really. They were strangers and Subaru was a threat to his life by being there and attracting the White Whale to them. It’s understandable, reasonable, even logical. They’re friends now. It’s not like he’s gonna snap one day and attack.
His shoulder is released.
Otto wouldn’t hurt him again… would he? Not seriously…
Right?
“I’m sorry,” Otto says, apropos of nothing. Subaru tilts his head back to see his expression, and is confused by what he sees. There’s guilt there, regret, plain and simple, but why?
“I shouldn’t have done that. I let my frustration get the better of me. So, I apologise,” says Otto, looking directly into Subaru’s eyes. Remorse is painted clear across his face.
“It’s fine,” Subaru says quietly. It was a flick to the head, not a big deal. He’s making a big fuss over nothing.
“It’s not,” Otto replies as Subaru settles himself back in. At this point, he can tell that there’s no dissuading him on this, so he lets it go.
Subaru sighs, releasing the tension that had grown within him and slumps back against Otto’s chest. He’s still boney, but it’s comfortable.
“But there is a point,” Otto abruptly states. It takes Subaru’s tired brain a couple seconds to register that they’re back on a previous subject.
“Even if it doesn’t change anything about what has happened, there’s a point. You’re hurting, Natsuki-san, badly. Don’t deny it. If talking about it can lift some of the weight off your shoulders, it is worth it. That’s the point.”
Otto is hard to argue against. Subaru can’t lie to himself convincingly enough to deny that he’s struggling. He shouldn’t be, all that is over and done, didn’t technically occur, but he is. Hell, he makes Beako heal him weekly after he freaks out over nothing and scratches himself bloody.
Maybe he should talk about it. Not all of it - god, even a dumbass like Subaru learned his lesson on that one - but some of it. A smidgen of what he’s gone through. Talking to Otto worked during the Sanctuary, right?
“So many times,” Subaru mumbles. He keeps his eyes closed. Otto keeps quiet. He strings together his thoughts, puts together shattered pieces like a puzzle.
“We could have died so many times.” Frozen. Eaten alive. Disembowled. Dismembered. Snapped in half. Impaled. Crushed. “Should have died, so many times over.”
…ripped in two.
“But we didn’t,” Subaru laughs brokenly. A thumb strokes over his shoulderblade. Otto listens silently. “And all that is a damn miracle.”
It’s only by that grace of Envy that any of them are still alive. Had Satella not, for some goddamn unknowable reason, decided that she loves him, Emilia would be dead, and so would everyone else.
God, how would she feel if she learns that the power of the Witch of Envy, the monster that half-destroyed the world and caused her so much pain, is the reason that she still lives. What a cruel cosmic joke.
“I was disemboweled once,” Subaru says idly. Otto stiffens, his hand stilling. “And mauled by Ulgarm. I’ve seen people die. Many people.”
He’s heard the speculation. People think he’s a victim of the Witch’s Cult, and that’s why he knew so much about Petelgeuse. He didn’t argue. It’s a convenient excuse. And also true enough.
“I’ve been hurt by people I thought I could trust,” he whispers this confession like a dirty secret.
Like a movie reel, he sees it. Rem with her morningstar, in that forest, bringing it down again and again and again until pain is all Subaru knew. Roswaal, who, strange from the start, had gone unsuspected until it was far too late. Then, the little betrayals. Begging for help and being turned away. Garf, flipping from friend to foe unpredictably.
…getting thrown to the White Whale by the very person he’s leaning against.
Subaru scratches. His nails dig deep into the thin, fragile skin of his wrist. He scratches and claws and tears at himself, the pain punishing, relieving. The hurts in his body are easier to deal with than the ones in his head.
Abruptly, his hand is pulled away from his wrist, having been caught in a vise-like grip. “Stop. You’re hurting yourself,” Otto scolds.
“Sorry,” Subaru mumbles, burning with shame. He wants to shrink into the cushions, sink through the floor. How dare he do that in front of Otto? Burden him further with his problems. Show him just how weak he is. Now he’s going to be embarrassed of him. He’s going to leave now that Subaru’s shown how damn pathetic he is.
Subaru shakes off that thought. Otto never thought that Subaru was strong. He literally beat that point into him. And then told him to rely on him. And then believed him, despite how crazy his claims were. Weirdo.
No matter how much he thinks about it, he can’t wrap his head around why. Otto is usually so analytical, calculating, but he threw it away to believe Subaru's batshit claims. Months have passed, and he still hasn’t asked. He just doesn’t get it.
“Are you never going to ask?” The question bursts out of Subaru like a bubble bursting from boiling water. There and gone in an instant.
“About what?” Otto asks, voice soft. He’s been speaking so gently, like Subaru is fragile. He feels ashamed for it as much as he appreciates it.
“How I knew about the assassins, about the Great Rabbit, Roswaal,” Subaru says.
There’s no doubt in Subaru’s brain that Otto had noticed that Subaru knew far more than he had any right to, but what conclusion did he come to as for why?
“…if you could have told me, I am certain you would have, given how much you worried about not being believed. But you didn’t, so you can’t,” Otto explains. He makes it sound so simple, so easy. It can’t be like that.
“And you're just gonna let that slide?” Subaru picks.
“I understand more than most why someone would keep their secrets. I trust that you have your reasons. I’m not going to hold that against you,” Otto elaborates, perfectly calm, perfectly reasonable.
It checks out. Otto’s always been a bit secretive, a bit of a schemer. It would be uncharacteristic of him not to get why a person would keep secrets themselves.
“Haaah,” Subaru sighs, feeling a weight that he didn’t know he carried slide off his shoulders. It’s nice, but surreal, to have someone believe in him like that. He’s not used to that. All this time it felt like he had to have some excuse or another to stop people from looking too deeply. It was like that with everyone. Almost everyone.
All except… Rem.
“Wanna know the reason I thought you wouldn’t believe me?” Subaru utters. He feels Otto shift, and that’s an answer enough.
“It’s cause it happened before. Right when I needed help the most, I didn’t have proof, and no one believed me. They thought I was insane, and then…” he trails off.
Then, Arlam village was slaughtered. Then, Rem died sacrificing herself to allow him to escape Betelgeuse. Then, Emilia died, because he told her something he shouldn’t. Then, Subaru died. So much death. It was endless.
Aaah, he’s shivering again. He presses himself closer to Otto, feeling the warmth through his clothes seep into the cold in his heart. Otto holds him closer. It’s a small comfort.
“It’s alright. That’s all done now. You’re safe here,” Otto murmurs into his ear.
He remembers, viciously, how Otto died. Images flash through his mind. Garf, transformed and enraged, crimson splattered over his golden fur. He sees without seeing Otto’s body, cleaved in twain, flying through the air, separated by a single blow.
Subaru can smell blood. His grip tightens around Otto’s waist. He doesn’t know when he grabbed him, knows that such a touch is likely uncomfortable and unwelcome, but he can’t bring himself to let go. It’s like if he lets up for an instant blood will begin flowing and flowing through his fingers in a river, endlessly, until Otto is nothing but a dedicated husk. One of the many he failed to save.
“I…” Otto whispers. His tone wavers, like he’s seconds away from breaking apart. Blinking away his own tears, Subaru looks up.
Otto looks… so, so sad. There’s a wet sheen to his eyes that Subaru has never seen from him. It’s like an alarm breaking the quiet. His own anxiety suddenly shoved aside, Subaru straightens up.
“Are you alright?” Subaru asks. In a mimicry of the comfort he’s received tonight, he puts a hand on Otto’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, Natsuki-san,” Otto says, plastering on a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Subaru frowns, not buying it in the least.
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Otto,” he warns, narrowing his eyes. “Weren’t you the one who said that friends should lean on each other? It goes both ways.”
Really, Subaru likes being kept out like this about as much as Otto does, which means he does not like it at all. Maybe he should punch Otto in the face, call him weak and dumb, and demand he rely on Subaru. Maybe that’ll get it through his thick skull.
Otto must sense that Subaru has no intention of budging on this issue or from his lap, because he sighs deeply. He rubs tiredly at his watery eyes, and slumps.
“I… I just want to help you,” Otto confesses wearily.
Subaru blinks. That’s it? That’s what he’s so upset about. He takes Otto by the shoulders and looks him in the eyes. He sees now, a pain in the other’s eyes, one that he knows all too well.
“You already have, so much more than you know, Otto,” Subaru states firmly. He injects his conviction, his gratitude, into a package wrapped by his voice, so that it can be accepted.
Subaru doesn’t want to know what he would have become had Otto not gone such lengths to help him. Alone, Subaru never would have been able to overcome Roswaal. He never would have been able to save both those in the mansion and everyone in the Sanctuary. He’d be stuck, trapped. Otto has to understand that.
“You’re too good for me, honestly. I don’t really get why you help me so much.” Subaru hurries on before Otto can do more than open his mouth. He has a point he needs to get to. “I know, I know, I should value myself more. I’m trying. That’s not important right now.”
Staring down the other so he really knows he means it, wholly and sincerely, Subaru speaks. “I haven’t been good at saying this but… thanks, Otto, for everything.”
Otto’s eyes widen. A faint blush, embarrassment, dusts his cheeks red. This time, Otto’s the one to break eye contact, averting his gaze in favor of scratching his cheek awkwardly. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with the thanks.
“So long as you’re grateful…” Otto says. What an awkward response to being thanked. How utterly like him. It’s enough to bring the faintest of chuckles out of Subaru's throat. So long as he gets it.
The second wind that energized Subaru for helping a friend, having served its purpose, fades away like morning dew. He yawns, his debt from the sleepless evening cradling him, gentle and soft as pillows, calling him to slumber. Quietly, Subaru slumps back onto Otto’s chest, utterly exhausted.
His head feels empty, and his limbs full of sand. Against this warm weight, with this rhythmic thumping by his ear, Subaru doesn’t want to move or think. He feels okay, for a little while.
There’s no reason to resist as his consciousness succumbs to the sweet siren call of sleep.
And this time, he doesn’t wake up.
Otto’s heart aches.
He looks down at Subaru, sleeping calmly on his chest, tear tracks drying on his relaxed face, and hurts. A dull, aching throb in the center of his chest, pounding with every sign of suffering on Subaru’s face. The scratches on his wrist. The lingering tears. The echoes of the painful confessions in his ears.
Gently, he cards a hand through Subaru’s hair. It’s soft. Otto isn’t used to being so close to someone. He hasn’t had this level of contact since he was young. Back when he was on the road, he’d dream of it on occasion, late at night when curled up in his bed, like how a thirsty man dreamt of water, he desired human connection. Because not even with his Divine Protection could animals replace human relationships. And here he is now, getting what he desired, but not in the way he desired it to be.
He hates this. Hates feeling this helplessness, uselessness.
Most of all, he hates that he hadn’t noticed this sooner. He should have known. He should have seen the signs, should have confronted him before it got to the point where Subaru felt the need to gouge at his skin. That is Otto’s role. This is his purpose.
Otto’s the one who’s supposed to see when Subaru is struggling, the one who cuts through his facades and makes him spill his guts. It’s all he’s wanted to do since the day he met him. Oh, how Subaru tried to hide it, but Otto could see. That smile on his face was fake. That laughter was hiding stress.
Subaru had been holding onto so much trauma. Disembowelment. Mauling. It’s not like Otto hasn’t heard about those incidents secondhand, but that’s so unlike seeing the emotional damage they’re brought for himself. Subaru has gone through so much.
In the face of this, is it any wonder that Subaru’s thinking had gotten twisted into knots? Ruminating on all the ways it could have gone wrong. Thinking that there’s no point in confiding in Otto. He understands how it came to this. Still, that’s a misconception that he could not, in present or past, allow to stand.
Back in the Sanctuary Otto had wanted so badly, to be trusted, relied upon, that he got frustrated enough to let fists fly. Subaru was the one who first called him a friend, so why wasn’t he acting like it? It pissed him off, so bad, and the subtle method wasn’t working, so Otto had to brute force his way in.
And it worked, hadn’t it? Subaru told him everything. Except he didn’t. Not really. He never told Otto how he knew about the Great Rabbit’s emergence, nor the assassination attempts or Roswaal’s schemes. And now, he’s finding out that so much more happened to Subaru than he knew, things that follow him here, that haunt him.
It makes a sickening amount of sense now, why he had been so hesitant to share his burdens, back in that twilight-lit forest. He had done it before, and had been failed. No wonder he’d been hesitant to talk. If anything, it’s surprising that he did so at all. It, perversely, makes Otto’s heart swell in his chest, then shrivel with shame, realising the faith that had been put in him that day.
“I’ve been hurt by people I thought I could trust.” Those words echoed in Otto’s head.
His fingers twitch with the desire to hold Subaru tight, tight enough to hurt. A desperate desire to keep Subaru locked at his side, where he can see him, where he can guard him. A want that, should it be given form, would only hurt them both.
He remembers how Subaru looked at him, like he was waiting for him to hurt him, and a sharp, piercing rage winds into his heart like the Curse of Thorns. Otto felt like an absolute piece of shit at that moment. Taking his frustration out physically like that was not appropriate, even if he doesn’t regret what he did to get Subaru to listen to him in the forest. It doesn’t mean that he can do what he pleases. Especially since… what he’s learned.
If he ever finds out who hurt Subaru, well, safe to say that they will never, ever, set foot anywhere near Subaru again. And that is if they still have a life to live after he’s done with them. He swears it on the Dragon.
There is so much Otto needs to think about, and more that he needs to do. But first things first, Subaru. Something is going on with him, something under the surface.
Otto has kept ahead of the rumours. Of course he has, that’s his job. He knows the suspicions that people have of Subaru. They say that he’s a Witch Cult escapee. That the Archbishop of Sloth tried to bring him into the fold but failed. There’s other theories, about how he knew so much, but this one is the most prominent.
He doesn’t know how much he believes it. Sure, it would explain well how Subaru knew so much about the Witch Cult and the Sin Archbishop of Sloth, but something about it does not feel quite right. Perhaps it is because it explains little about how Subaru knew about the Great Rabbit and the assassins.
Personally, Otto has his suspicions. From the very start, all the way back when he was dragged, tied to that pole, and dropped at Subaru's feet. Back then, Subaru already knew who he was. ‘So you got yourself captured! I thought I was never gonna see your face here, Otto!’ Subaru had said, mirth colouring his voice. He had called him by name. Him, Otto, who no matter how he wracks his brain, cannot remember encountering Subaru before that day.
At the time, Otto hadn’t exactly been in the mood to think about it, having been captured by the Witch’s Cult, freed by the Iron Fang, only to be recaptured by the Iron Fang (ugh). He hadn’t thought much about it in the Sanctuary, so caught up in the events surrounding Subaru and Margrave Mathers. But he had never forgotten.
Later on, once he had time to think, Otto assumed the simplest answer - that one of the other merchants involved in the evacuation had noticed his absence and brought it up to Subaru. But that theory never quite meshed with reality. Subaru had spoken like he knew from the start that Otto would be there.
Viewing the details closely, from what he has heard from the others, this tendency to know things that he should not is not new from Subaru. From Emilia’s recounts on how Subaru showed up out of nowhere to save her and another Royal Candidate, Felt, from the Bowel Hunter, to Ram’s struggle to remember the sister Subaru recalls perfectly. This is a pattern.
Subaru had an ability that he has been keeping from them.
Now, one thing has to be understood. There is something that Otto understands far deeper than anyone else in this camp.
And that is, the toll that one can pay for what is supposed to be a blessing.
His own Soul of Language Divine Blessing had come with a cost so great that it defined half his life. From an infant and toddler permanently overwhelmed by a constant deluge of information far greater than what he could handle, to a boy accidentally siccing a swarm of insects on a city, then a young man wielding his abilities recklessly and getting exiled for his troubles, Otto’s entire life has been coloured by his blessing in ways that he can’t escape.
So he gets it. Honestly, it’s good that Subaru hadn’t told anyone. Otto begrudgingly can admit that, even if it extends to himself, no matter how much it offends the part of him that wants nothing more than to be a confidant. Keeping this secret is the best way to keep him away from those who would seek to abuse his ability for themselves. It’s wise in a way he rarely sees from Subaru.
In life, there’s no do-overs, no restarts. That’s why he’s not going to ask. Otto will keep quiet, allow the silence to guard them, and protect that silence in turn. This is his purpose, the meaning he has found on that fateful day, when he was freed from imminent death by Subaru Natsuki.
He brushes a finger over the drying tear-tracks on Subaru’s cheek. Subaru doesn’t even twitch, already so deep in slumber. A cold determination has joined the throbbing in his chest. From this point on, Otto swears, again, that he will be the friend that Subaru needs.
If Subaru needs a shoulder to cry on, then Otto will be it. If Subaru needs to be held, then he will do so. He has no qualms with this, will act with no hesitation. Tenderly, as to not disturb him, Otto wraps his arms around Subaru’s back and looks down at him, fondness joining the complex emotions swirling in his heart, just inches from where Subaru rests his head.
It had been surprising, that Subaru wanted physical comfort from him, but not unwelcome. He doesn't mind it, as it’s nothing but a sign of how close they have gotten, figuratively.
He’s grateful, really, that Subaru had chosen to confide in him. It’s flattering that Otto, of everyone, had been chosen. Not Emilia, not Beatrice, but him. Otto Suwen. He wants to guard that trust with his life.
Sighing fondly, Otto leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. This isn’t a very comfortable way to sleep, but Otto does not have the heart to wake Subaru up. How could he, after Subaru curled into his body, allowed him to comfort him in such a fragile state? No, it’d be a waste waking him so soon after he calmed down.
(What Otto chooses not to acknowledge, is that deep inside, secretly, guiltily, he’s enjoying this too much to let go.)