#Luca Balsa | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

olliesneweyes · 3 days

Text

Please comfort me, angels divine (1.7k words)

In which Andrew is not very mentally healthy.

(This fic is about Andrew but the pov is on Norton and Luca! Not intended as a ship fic but could be seen that way)

The otherwise-silent manor hall was filled with the sound of clicking boots. The boots in question belonged to a certain Norton Campbell, who had chosen this hall specifically to wander down because he needed to have a talk with someone.

Now, saying that, he probably shouldn't be walking towards said someone's door with a blood-stained monocle clasped in his hand. But by the time he'd thought about that he was already halfway to the door, and he figured he might as well continue.

The monocle used to (and technically still does) belong to Orpheus. Oh how he hated Orpheus right now. But he'd already gotten his revenge in, so his internal fire happened to just be hot coals at the moment.

“Room 3-0-1” was written on one of two plaques on the door in front of him. The other read “Andrew Kreiss”. This was the right room, certainly, though Norton still hesitates.

Andrew's been locked inside his room since… Well, it was Orpheus who started it.

That damned man had always been a gossiper. A (very annoying) storyteller by nature, he liked to spin tales about the other manor residents. Everyone knew these rumours were most likely false, and yet they still spread like wildfire.

Sometimes you could tell that people's hearts weren't in it. That they just wanted a fun story to talk about, even at the expense of others. Norton understood that.

But Orpheus decided to go after Andrew one day. God knows how he thought that was a good idea. Andrew worries if you look at him with even a pinprick of hate. People whispering things about him being some kind of monster or changeling when they think he can't hear was clearly torture to him, given how almost immediately after Norton noticed this was happening he'd found Andrew silently crying his eyes out.

The “demon” comments were the worst. Andrew was quite clearly some flavour of religious, and even without understanding what he actually prays to, Norton could tell that phrasing was doing a lot of the damage to his psyche. Norton had tried to do damage control as much as he could. So what if he yanks on their heart and tells them exactly how much Andrew cries at night because of what they said? It's their damn fault for saying it in the first place.

If that wasn't bad enough, Orpheus had happened to make a comment towards Luca. Luca was one of Andrew's closest, if not only friends. He was one of the only things Andrew would go out of his way to defend.

As far as Norton heard, Andrew had seemingly been building up discreet anger all day, but whatever Orpheus said in that moment was enough for him to snap. Before anyone knew what was happening, the normally meek gravekeeper had stood up to shout at Orpheus because how dare he try to taint the name of such a blessed man—

Andrew's never liked conflict. And from how he reacted in hindsight, it's pretty clear that he just thinks the manor hates him much more now. Which is why Norton's standing in front of his door, hesitating and lost in thought. Has it been a week now? A bit more?

The exact day doesn't matter. What matters is trying to get through to him that no, he will not be instantly crucified if he steps out of his room.

Better late than never, Norton knocks the door. There's movement. Then nothing.

“Andrew?” He calls through the cracks in the doorframe. There's no keyhole or letterbox, so it'll have to do.

Movement again. Andrew's steps are accented by the scraping tin sound of his shovel hitting the floor. Norton has no time to dwell on if he's really trying to walk with it or just dig through the floorboards before there's a thud. It sounds very close to him, despite being separated by the door.

Scrambling hands seem to fidget with the door lock, before stopping.

“...door's open-” Comes a rasp from Andrew. Norton winces. His voice always sounds sickly, but not like… that.

Norton decides not to waste any more time. He pushes open the door.

It's much, much worse than he thought.

-------

Luca Balsa was in the middle of watching his friend and sort-of-roommate, Emil, try to twist two particularly shiny strands of metal wire together into a flower shape, when a thud from somewhere on the floor made him flinch.

Looking around the room, he doesn't see anything that could have potentially fallen down. So he assumes that it was from someone else's room, and ignores it. There's voices down the hall, though. Or one voice speaking very strongly.

He can't quite place who they are, or what room the noise is coming from, but it's clearly grabbed Emil's attention alongside his own.

“Is that Mr Campbell?” Asks Emil.

“Probably.” Luca’s pretty sure it is, but it'd be rude to eavesdrop. And the conversation seems to have moved into one of the rooms anyway. So Emil continues to make his flower, and Luca continues to watch.

It's about ten minutes (or from what Luca could tell, it was about ten minutes. He keeps forgetting to put a clock in here.) before there are more sounds. A rather loud set of sounds. That of boots running very fast towards the door. They stop directly in front of it and leave him to stew in concern for a moment before the door is pushed open by a very stressed looking Norton Campbell.

“Hh- hello” He starts, still trying to catch his breath. “We've got a problem. An Andrew problem.”

Oh. Oh no.

“Is he alright?” Luca asks dumbly. He's definitely not, in fact, alright, given the look on Norton's face, but it's probably good to ask. Maybe he'll explain?

“Of course he's no— okay look, I… don't think he's eaten or slept since the argument the other day.” Right. The argument. Somehow that had completely slipped Luca's mind. “I don't know how to help. Three confused people are probably more helpful than one guy who I'm not even sure he considers a friend, so…”

Norton trails off into silence. Luca knows even less how to help. Andrew was always the one reminding him to care for himself, why has Andrew suddenly neglected himself, despite everything? And even if he was just scared to go get things, then-

“Oh… should we have helped sooner…?” asks Emil. Luca should have helped sooner, definitely. It was inevitable that Emil would forget, but Luca's trying to be the responsible one, damn it! Why did he have to forget!

“From what he said, he told you to leave him alone. He definitely wouldn't have come and got you. If he was left to his own devices. It's not your fault.” Norton being the voice of reason when Luca can't, as always.

“Why not?”

“You can ask him when we get there, Emil.”

Right. They were going to visit him.

And just like that the conversation was over.

Several pairs of feet step awkwardly into Andrew's room.

The lights are off, with the worn curtains only letting in a dim glow from outside to illuminate the place.

Luca's never been in this room before. It's a bit eerie.

The doorway faces a bed with too-neatly folded sheets. Norton was definitely right about Andrew not sleeping, at least assuming he slept there.

The bed faces a window where the light flickers through onto both sides of the room. One contains a wardrobe and some sort of gallery wall with images he can't make out.

The other side contains a shelf covered in all manner of rosaries, old books, and what appears to be metal. Next to that is some kind of dresser draped in cloth that blocks most of the mirror that he can see.

And next to all of that… is Andrew. He's practically lying on the floor as he kneels, with how close his head and shoulders are to its wooden surface. His eyes are shut.

He's not asleep, though. Luca sees the cross clasped in his tired hands, and hears hushed whispers stop as he notices their entry. He's been praying.

At that, Norton turns to leave. “I'm getting stuff from the kitchens for you all,” he says. “I'll be back in twenty.”

Luca guesses that's a sympathetic way of telling them to go deal with him. He can't blame the man. The door shuts, leaving them alone.

“Andrew?” Emil says into the heaving silence. “Are you alright..?”

Andrew's reaction is quick given how tired he looks, but it's still rather sluggish. He looks surprised to see them. Maybe a bit… fearful.

“'m alright…” is echoed back to them. He sounds horrible, speech broken and slurring, but there's a faint smile in his voice. “why’re you…” He trails off on every word.

“We're here because we want to comfort you.” Luca's tongue unties itself. “You're in pain.”

Andrew blinks at him. Maybe he doesn't realise that fact.

“I’ss alright, angel… ‘ll be okay…”

“But you aren't..” Emil crouches down next to him.

Andrew says something under his breath. Is he still praying? Maybe this is the area where he does it. It's probably best to move him if he keeps slipping back into doing that.

“Can you put the cross down?” Luca asks. It's not quite an order, but it is an instruction. He wants to pick Andrew up and lift him to bed himself, but that'd go disastrously. So he tries to herd him.

Andrew shakes his head. “nneed it to…” Luca cuts in.

“Pray? You've done more than enough of that by now. It's alright.”

He wouldn't be surprised if Andrew had been here for hours.

“M’re than… enough..? I did too much? Ssorry angel..” the man mutters. The cross is out of his hands now, laid on the floor next to him. There's still imprints of where it was. It looks sharp.

“It's alright…” Emil says. “You're not in trouble…” They wrap an arm around Andrew to try and stir him to his feet, only for him to lay his head on their shoulders instead.

Another mumbled sorry from Andrew. But sleeping here on the floor is much better than not sleeping at all.

Andrew lays down, properly this time, and closes his eyes. He can't be feeling well at all, and yet he smiles.

They stay like that for a very long time.

#andrew kreiss #Luca Balsa #Norton Campbell #Emil mesmer #identity v #idv #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv gravekeeper #idv patient #idv fanfiction #Ollie writes

23 notes · View notes