Squish

It takes him awhile. Longer, he thinks, than it should have before the realization hits him directly in the face.

It feels like a bag of bricks, blunt and solid and thrown out of the window of a car speeding down the highway.

He doesn’t like it.

He’s sitting on Deceit’s balcony when it happens. It’s quiet between the two of them. Spade’s pretty sure that she’s actually might be asleep, and it’s not uncomfortable for him yet.

They’re alive. It’s a pretty sure thing, and that’s a complete one-eighty from what it had been yesterday.

We’re alive we’re alive we’re alive, it’s like a mantra in his head that won’t stop. He doesn’t want it to.

The pretty haired girl beside him shifted, and he sees her covered in her own fluids again. The memory is still fresh and unbidden and unwanted.

They’re alive.

He thinks about it. Maybe too much. Maybe not enough. But it occurs to him that he’s been perpetually calm since Etna assured him that she was alive. The world could - and hell, it might even dare to- end tomorrow, and he’d be okay with it as long as she was okay.

He.

Spade narrowed his eyes at this. It was more than a simple affliction.

He might actually harbor serious feelings for the girl on his left.

This would not end well.