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The snow falls a little heavier tonight.
Lomedy can't help but hold his hand out to catch the accumulating snowflakes, creating a pile too fast for any of them to individually melt in his palm. Not that they could - not in this perpetual reality. There are many things that don't follow the natural laws in this place, or in the waking world (though that's mostly because Lomedy has been trapped in a separate plane from the normal reality for a long, long time).
He stares, fixated on the way the snowflakes seem to deliberately settle themselves, as if placed by an invisible hand. It's only when the vague, familiar shape of a humanoid starts to form that Lomedy shakes his palm, and the pile scatters, lost in the snow on the ground. He doesn't want to find out who that was meant to portray. Some things are better off unknown.
The chill of the winter wonderland seeps into his bones even as he tries to rub them back into feeling. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to this by now, the way his bones practically rattle in place from the subzero temperatures and how his teeth always seem on the verge of chattering. Lomedy hasn't felt warm in a long, long time. He doesn't know what that time frame is, exactly. It's hard to keep track in this place - for all he knows, it could've been anywhere from a day to years.
It's not like he's all there to perceive it correctly, either. Lomedy's found himself drifting more times than he'd like, particularly when it quiets down and his mind loses control. Many times, he's snapped back into reality to find himself in a completely new place, or just a few steps away from his original position. He can never tell if it's his own doing or the work of something far more terrifying.
For his own sake, he decides it's paranormal activity. Lomedy's mind is so much more difficult to confront.
He isn't able to pinpoint when it begins or ends, either. His mind seems to have a will of its own, taking him wherever it likes and shutting down on a whim. Sometimes it's when he thinks too much, and then he becomes lost in those thoughts like a labyrinth of turmoil and unprocessed burdens. Other times, it's too quiet. Hazy. Drifting in an endless fog with no way out. He did this, too, after what happened to To- Mango. He isn't too sure what that event exactly is, or how the boy is doing now, but he's left school. Lomedy hasn't heard or seen him since that call, and it became all too easy to lose himself in emotions he doesn't understand yet - ones that make his stomach churn or his head pulse, leaving his heart aching like it was working overtime. These days, he could only hope for a loud noise or a sudden sensation to knock him out of that trance and back into the world, but back then, all Tyler had to do was-
"Lomedy!"
Lomedy blinks. There's a blanket of snow on his head now, and on the top of his shoes, too. He's been standing in place for so long.
Tyler's voice cuts through the thick haze, and he can feel himself returning to his body. Like he'd just remembered he was alive, and had previously forgotten how to exist until Tyler roped him back in. Tyler's always been his tether, he thinks.
It takes a long time before Lomedy shifts, the thin snow cascading off his shoulders and head as he turns to face his friend.
"Sorry," he mumbles apologetically, voice gentle. He doesn't think he's ever used this voice with anyone but Tyler. "I was, uh, thinking."
Tyler looks at him. Really looks. Surveys him from head to toe and drops the planks in his hands. "Lom," he sighs, closing the distance between them. His hands, rough and callous with the iron coating his palms and segmented fingers, grasp his shoulders lightly. Lomedy hangs onto that sensation like a lifeline.
"You've got to stop this, man." Concern flashes in Tyler's eyes as he tries to pierce through Lomedy's own eyes and read his thoughts. Lomedy, instinctively, shuts him out.
"Stop what, bro?" He plays the fool. Tyler isn't convinced.
"Neither of us are stupid, Lom."
Lomedy tries. He really does. He tries to put the mask up longer, not out of willingness but out of pure habit. It's been so long, though, that he guesses he's forgotten that one knowing look from Tyler was enough to melt him.
"You sure? 'Cause I feel stupid," he mumbles, voice low in a way like he's unsure whether he wants Tyler to hear it or not. Tyler does.
"Come on," he gives Lomedy a brief shake, back and forth. Lomedy chuckles, instinctively, trying to bat Tyler's hands away, even when his grip tightens just the slightest. Tyler's always been stronger than him, especially as a Golem hybrid. He gives up the fight faster than it started.
"Only stupid thing I've heard you say yet is this," he narrows his eyes playfully. "And maybe that time you downloaded that AI just for a stupid investigation."
Lomedy punches him in the shoulder. It only makes the taller man laugh in response, hopping back a step.
"Okay, okay. Point taken, but you get me, right?"
He does. It doesn't quell the sickening feeling in his gut.
Lomedy groans, moves himself to the stairs on the wooden cabin's porch and promptly drops onto the second step as gracefully as he can manage, which isn't much more than a bumbling cub. His hands cover his face, propped up on his knees as his jaw clenches. The stress is tearing him down.
"I don't know, bro, I just-" he trails off, not really sure what he even wants to say. "I guess I'm just- afraid."
Guilty, of leading you and Abbie into this. Guilty of bringing you all down with me, and guilty of not caring for anyone but you while I'm at it.
He refuses to say any of that out loud. Not that he doesn't deserve the burden or the acknowledgement of his own sins, but he's not sure he could handle it if Tyler's opinion of him changed when/if he sees how wicked Lomedy really is. Lomedy's just not ready.
Luckily, Tyler doesn't catch onto everything. He's spared the knowing look and breathes another day as his own privacy - and dignity - is preserved.
What Tyler does instead is follow him right onto that very same step and sit down beside him, to his left. He's hunched over just slightly, his legs rested on the first step with his arms hanging off his knees. There's a light layer of snow caking the golden flower atop the side of Tyler's head that Lomedy resists the urge to dust off. He resists the point of initiating any contact, really, unsure how much longer he'll stay together if he does.
But then Tyler's knee knocks with his and he shivers, his entire spine trembling in place for a split second. It's such an overreaction, but he hasn't felt a gentle touch like that in so long, and all he wants is more of that.
He doesn't realise he's leaning into the golem, and refuses to stop himself when he does. His side is snug against Tyler's, who wraps an arm around him, and his head rests on his shoulder.
It's comfortable. The distant memory of a childhood reminds him of all the times they ate their lunches together like this, on the school's stairs, just to escape the ravaging noise of the cafeteria. Those days seemed so far, now.
"I missed you so much," he mutters, a lump in his throat. Tyler's arm squeezes him just slightly, reassuring.
"I'm right here, Lom." His smile is too kind.
And that's the thing, isn't it? He isn't right here. He never has been. It's just- make-believe. A world of Lomedy's own making, temporary. Someplace to cope with his own mistakes.
He doesn't understand why it's Tyler that's here. Sure, they're best friends, but the sight of him should make Lomedy want to vomit. It should terrify him, disgust him, taunt him even, not because Tyler was bad but because Lomedy was horrible. Is horrible.
And yet, he's here, because Lomedy can't think of any other way to keep himself going but Tyler.
It's a bold realisation, when it hits him just how much he needs the other boy. How he's always needed him, even for the slightest of things. When Lomedy needed help on an assignment, he called Tyler even if there were so many better and faster options to choose. When Lomedy wanted to visit a place, he invited Tyler, and Tyler alone. When Lomedy got sick and his parents were out, unable to make it home for another few hours, he called Tyler. Hell, he even fought the teacher once to get him and Tyler on the same group pairing for a project because he couldn't imagine working with anyone else but him.
It scares him more than anything ever has up to this point. He doesn't deserve it. Even if- when he found the real Tyler, at some point, he'd never be able to muster the courage to say it. To confess. He couldn't curse Tyler like that, if the boy even reciprocated. But he just can't see himself by anyone else's side. It makes him want to vomit, being separate from Tyler. Seeing someone else be Tyler's favourite.
He's still so selfish.
"I love you," he blurts.
Tyler only hums.
Maybe it's his own mind that keeps this reflection of Tyler silent, to protect him. Maybe it couldn't conjure a response because Lomedy's never made it past the friendship part with him. He's never had the chance to learn. He never will.
Lomedy can force- learn to shut himself up.
Tyler deserves to be safe and happy, after all. It doesn't matter what he wants. Not after everything he's done to get them both into this mess.
"I'm sorry," he adds, because he can see the darkness closing in.
"It's not your fault," Tyler responds.
Lomedy barely registers the final embrace, but he throws his all into it when he does. When he processes the fact that Tyler's wrapped his arms around him and is holding him close, and Lomedy buries his face into the golem's chest. He blinks rapidly, but the tears don't stop anyway.
He hasn't felt warm in so long, but he can still recall a memory when Tyler hugged him after his first pet passed. It was the safest Lomedy had ever felt. For a second, now, with the remnants of that time, he can remember how it felt to be held in Tyler's arms, so close to his heart, like nothing could touch him, and he held on for dear life.
He pretended he was warm.
He doesn't remember the dream when he wakes up in a dead world, gasping and shivering from the violent cold, but his face is wet.