Ah. Once more I return to the topic of Faye. This is something of a sequel to last year’s Fever as well as a prequel to Hand-made Miracles.

————

The Coleridge mansion was always filled with peculiar gadgets, clockwork helpers, the sound of moving gears. The many timepieces counted the time precisely, coldly.

“I don’t think you should be drinking right now.”

Something clanged to the floor.

“Shut up and fuck off.”

Ah. Profanities. Perhaps Orion underestimated the situation.

He carefully moved several delicate-looking components, metal and glass intertwined into a future something, and hopped onto the table where Leo was having his pity party.

“I don’t think I will,” he said, leaning back onto his hands to be able to better see Leo’s face.

“Screw you,” Leo replied without much heat in his voice. If anything, he looked tired and defeated.

He also looked terribly drunk despite the only bottle on the table being half-empty. Lightweight.

“If that makes you feel better, sure. What are best friends for?” Orion flicked Leo’s forehead and sighed. “But somehow, I doubt this problem here has such an easy solution.”

Leo’s face crumbled, and Orion scolded himself for the joke, but rather than blow up at Orion, Leo instead dropped his head onto his arms, fingers clawing at his sleeves.

“What do I do?” he asked, voice choked and muffled. “Orion, what the fuck do I do?”

Orion softly hopped of the table to instead lean awkwardly so he could hug Leo’s shoulders. If only he knew the answer – hell, any answer to that.

“She keeps getting worse, she’s always in pain, always burning up. What if there’s no cure?” Leo’s shoulders shook, and Orion clutched at them tighter.

“Hey, come on, don’t think that way,” he tried, even though the words tasted flat in his mouth. “I… I’m sure Remi will think of something. She’s promised to ask around, didn’t she? Do you really think all across the world, there is no one who knows how to treat this stupid thing?”

Leo said nothing, and Orion had a feeling he didn’t truly believe in that last sliver of hope.

In truth, Orion had trouble finding the strength to believe it himself. He patted Leo’s head, noting how the red locks were damp with sweat. Did Leo also have a fever? Or was it just drunkenness?

“Look, Leo,” he paused and swallowed, unsure what to say, “you know we love Faye very much, right? She’s like a little sister to all of us, not just you. We’ll do all we can, okay? I promise you. If there is any chance at all, we’ll do what you need us to do. So… don’t lose hope, okay? Because I don’t think we can deal with both of you being out of commission.”

He felt like the last coward saying it, but he also added, “Faye needs you to be strong, doesn’t she? You’re her big brother, so don’t you dare let her down.”

Leo was quiet for some time, and Orion wondered if he’d finally fallen asleep. Was anyone else still in the house? Orion would probably need help getting Leo to bed on his own…

“If she…” Leo suddenly sniffed. “What would I do without her? She’s…”

Orion forcefully unclenched his jaw. “Come on, don’t think like that.”

“It’s all I can think about,” Leo argued, finally raising his head and looking at Orion. “All these years – ever since – it’s been the two of us. She’s still just a kid, Ori.”

She wasn’t, not really, but Orion knew what Leo was talking about. He – at some point, all of them – had practically raised Faye. How old was she when their parents died? Eight? Nine? Back then, Leo was barely into adulthood himself.

To them, to Leo, she would always be that little girl, no matter how strong her magic had become or how proficient she was with clockworks.

Orion straightened up, his back protesting from being in a hunched position for too long. “Think about it this way,” he suggested. “What will she do without you? She’s still here. Spend this time with her, not with a bottle or these gears.”

“I just wish I could do something,” Leo’s face twisted again, a desperate, doomed attempt not to cry. “I can’t – we’re just sitting here. I want to help her, and I can’t and it’s –“

It was torture, Orion finished in his head. Not just Faye’s illness, but seeing Leo like this, reduced to frayed nerves and sunken eyes, anxious in his helplessness.

He’d been on autopilot these last few weeks, and Orion couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad that the dam had finally broken.

Orion got on his knees and took Leo by the shoulder. He’d run out of platitudes, but Leo probably didn’t need them by now. At that point, all Orion could offer was companionship.

Leo half-turned towards him and suddenly collapsed onto him, his light frame heavy with premature grief.

Orion hugged him and swallowed around the tightness in his own throat.

Leo cried into his shoulder motionlessly, silently.

Minutes ticked by on the heavy hands of the workshop clock.

In the house where metal came to life, three people kept falling apart.