Archive of Our Own

—

He blinked his eyes open when he heard the window downstairs shattered. Oh, he stared at the papers in front of him in a daze, the witch is here.

“FAAAAAAAANG!!” the voice echoed from the hallways grew louder and louder, footsteps following its wake. He stood up and began rearranging the papers on his desk into a neat pile before—

The door to his workplace banged open. “Fang!” the witch in orange beamed at him and immediately threw himself into his general direction.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time around.” The papers in his hands were promptly forgotten as he   caught the boy securely in his hold, minding his sharp nails in the process. He still forgot some of the physical changes after his coming-of-age ceremony sometimes. “You don’t need to scream my name that hard, Oboi.”

“Eh, you said that every time, but you never even come out to greet me.”

“Why should I do that when I know you’ll find me within 30 seconds max?” he slowly let the witch back down to the floor after twirling them a few times. “And you should use the door to come in next time. Stop causing property damage to this already ancient castle.”

“Uncle Pian wouldn’t mind,” Boboiboy giggled. “After all, Tanah’s working on it right now.”

“Stop overworking your familiars. I’m sure they have better things to do than clean after your mess.”

“That doesn’t count as overworking them! I’m not that heartless.”

“Yeah, because the only heartless one here is me,” he fixed his glasses and looked down on the witch.

Boboiboy pouted. “Stop using that lame joke, could you? I know you're a vampire and all, but that stopped being funny years ago.”

“Worth the try,” he shrugged. “The coming-of-age ceremony changed a lot. You might be interested to know that my heart actually stopped working ever since.” 

“Really?” the witch followed him out the room and peered at him. “You don’t look that much different from before. What else changed?”

“The itch to drink blood gets stronger,” he stared back to see the witch’s reaction.

Boboiboy’s face scrunched. “But you don’t even like blood. You said they gave too much, what was it that you said last time, memories?”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course,” the boy looked at him proudly. “You go on a long tangent to explain why vampires drink blood and why some avoid it like the plague before. It sounded pretty important to you, so I might as well remember.”

He hummed and did not say anything else, letting comfortable silence fill the space as he made his way downstairs to see the extent of damages that the witch created this time. He reached the end of the stair before two fluffballs threw themselves at him.

He caught them easily, just like he did with their master. “Api, Angin, it’s good to see you again,” he greeted the cats and received affectionate purring in return. The rest of the cats circle their feet, Tanah specifically looking at him in worry. 

“It’s fine, Tanah,” Boboiboy crouched down to pet the Norwegian forest cat. “Fang won’t fall down just from Api and Angin’s weight.”

“Yes, your master is heavier than that and I can still catch him just fine.”

“Hey! That’s rude!”

“But it’s true, though.”

The orange witch clicked his tongue and petted Tanah harder. Tanah stayed silent even though he knew the cat wanted to protest. “Well, where’s Uncle Pian? I still haven’t greeted him yet.”

“Father’s probably already know about your arrival. There’s only one person he knows that likes to barge in through the window around this time of the year.”

“Oh, come on. Controlling the broomstick is hard enough, Angin messing up with the wind makes navigation even harder.”

He looked down at the grey cat in his arm and Angin looked back at him innocently, meowing once. “Sounds like skill issues,” he told the cat’s owner.

“Oh you did not just call me— Hey, Petir, what’s wrong?” the brown selkirk rex cat distracted the witch by jumping onto his back. Petir did not reply, chewing on his clothes instead.

“He’s probably hungry. When was the last time you ate something?”

“Before we traveled here,” Boboiboy looked away guiltily, “and Petir was hanging on his dear life on the broomstick too the whole time.”

“He’s tired then,” Fang nodded his head and put down the cats in his arms, walking to the direction of the now-fixed window to pick up the huge luggage in the middle of the entry hall. “Let’s drop him off at your room. We’ll get him some snacks before dinnertime.”

“Sure,” the witch pried the brown cat from his back and they made their way upstairs again.

—

The little witch and his father came by for the first time when Fang was six. That was when he learnt that the life of an undead creature and a living creature can be vastly different.

First, the kid could play under the sun without suffering some fatal physical ailment of some sort. He almost dragged Fang under the sun with him before his father panickingly stopped him and explained to the little witch that undead creatures like Fang prefer the night to the daylight.

Second, the kid was damn hyperactive. Fang got tired just looking at him.

Third, he could eat meat. Fang couldn’t. Red meat, regardless if the blood was cleaned off thoroughly or not, gave him flashes of memories of the creature he was eating. It was jarring and he hated the feeling of being forcibly shown and experiencing someone or something else’s life without proper preparation beforehand. Land creatures were worse than sea creatures. At least if he got memories from a fish, it wouldn’t be as clear as memories from a lamb, per se. He could just brush it off as a really surreal dream and move on with his life.

Fourth, and probably the most baffling, the kid felt everything so much. He cried when he tripped on the floor, he laughed at the smallest thing he found funny, and he was just alway. so. damn. affectionate. 

A kiss on his father’s cheek, a flower for the owner of the castle, a shower of praises here and string of gratitudes there.

And Fang, well, Fang just…couldn’t relate?

His face might’ve shown too much confusion because his adoptive father, the poltergeist, also an undead creature, had to pull him aside one night to explain to him it was normal for him to not be like the witch despite them being of the same age.

And that it’ll only get worse after his coming-of-age ceremony. 

The undead will always be an undead, different from the living who lived under the sun.

(Not that it’s impossible to be friends, his father explained. After all, the little witch’s own father and him stayed friends despite the poltergeist being, well, dead and half-translucent most of the time.)

—

Despite being the host, the poltergeist didn’t actually need to eat dinner with their guest. He was just doing that for the sake of not letting Boboiboy feel too awkward being the only living creature that needed food as sustenance. 

“How’s your father, Oboi?” Father cut through the meat in his plate and ate it slowly. “And how was the trip here? I heard the weather outside this island has been unpredictable lately. I hope it wasn’t too hard on you to fly with your broomstick here.”

The food would vanish when it made contact with the ghost’s half-corporeal body, and Fang had long stopped thinking too hard about the physics of it and enjoyed his own carrot donut that his father prepared.

“Ayah’s doing fine,” the witch replied, swallowing down the food as fast as he could before speaking again. “And the broomstick made by Daun is sturdy enough to withstand the weather. Angin helps with the wind current too if it gets too hard.”

“So it was skill issues that made you crash into our window again this year,” Fang scoffed, wiping his lips clean from donut icing. “And you blamed poor Angin for your own weakness.”

“I wasn’t lying,” he whined. “Angin really did let the wind out of control when we got near the castle. You just don’t know that since you can’t understand what he’s saying.”

“Are you trying to rub it in my face that I can’t understand animals again?” he squinted at the boy, “because that’s a very low blow, Oboi.”

“I wasn’t,” the witch whined harder. “Why does it feel like everyone’s picking on me today?”

“Be grateful Abang wasn’t here or it’ll be worse.”

“What does Abang Kaizo got against me, anyway?” the pout grew longer. “He never seems to stop picking on me when I train with him. I didn’t even do anything that might piss him off.”

For making his younger brother sad that one time, probably, but instead of saying that, Fang said, “Well, if anything Abang told me to pass his thanks for giving him that potion. It works well.”

That wiped away the sad expression in an instant and Boboiboy perked up on his seat again. “The potion work? Did he need more? Did the potion actually last as long as I thought? Any side effects? Improvements to make?”

“Calm down, Oboi,” Father laughed. “Yes, he did send us his full evaluation of the potion. You can take a look at his report later.”

“Thank you, Uncle Pian,” the witch beamed. “I’m glad I could be of help.”

Making a new potion successfully at that young of an age was something impressive, in Fang’s very unbiased opinion. Well, considering who his father is and the fact that he has Cahaya with him, it shouldn’t be that surprising, he thought. “I take it once you submit the report for this potion, you’ll graduate from your school?”

The witch shifted his attention to him and nodded his head. “Yes, once I finish writing the final part of my potion research paper and they evaluate my papers, I can finally graduate. Urgh, finally, I can be done with schooling,” Boboiboy leaned back on his seat and groaned. 

“I told you to study something else. You’re the one who insisted on using the sunlight immunity potion as your main research paper, don’t blame others for graduating later than the rest of your batchmates.”

“I know, I know,” he blew a raspberry in protest. “But honestly, what’s the point of studying something you’re not passionate about? And I want my research paper to be something significant, not just some afterthought to let me graduate from the witch’s school,” the boy muttered.

“I think you might have overdone it in choosing to study something significant,” Father sounded amused. “Has anyone approached you with patenting the potion recipe yet?”

“The school tries to keep it as low-key as possible and they did say they’ll help with the patent process if I want to, but I think I’ll prefer if Ayah was the one that helps me with this,” he scratched his cheeks abashedly. “He’s far more experienced in this matter, after all.”

“Do tell us if you need help with anything,” Father nodded his head. “You’ve been a great help to Kaizo and I’m sure he’d help too if you want.”

“Don’t mind it, Uncle Pian,” the smile was back on Boboiboy’s face. “After all, the reason I want to study the potion isn’t fully selfless after all, and I got a lot of help from Ayah too. It’s his idea to begin with, I just help develop the final process.”

Getting the help from a potion master who had a powerful familiar (he mean, who in the world got a dragon as their familiar?? That alone makes the witch’s father leagues better than other witches) wasn’t that surprising, although… 

“What do you mean it’s not that selfless?” he cocked his eyebrow. The boy was everything about being selfless and helping others, even to his detriment at times.

“That,” strangely, the boy’s face grew redder. Fang couldn’t have seen that wrong. His eyesight got even sharper after the coming-of-age ceremony. “Well, that has something to do with after I finish my study, and well…”

“You mean your witch’s pilgrimage?”

“Well, yes, that, uhh…” he started stuttering. “Umm, how do I say this…”

“Oboi, why don’t you finish your dinner first?” the poltergeist interrupted the witch. “It’s already late. You need to sleep properly. You dad will be mad if I don’t take care of his precious son while you’re here.”

The witch’s father's definition of being mad at his own friend was sending paper birds that leave ink stains everywhere in the castle and wouldn’t stop chittering and squawking in front of the ghost’s face. It was mainly harmless, but the poltergeist hated anything that ruins the peace of the castle. The home of a poltergeist is half of their own body, after all. 

Boboiboy shot Father a grateful look and began shovelling food down his throat faster, all the while not looking at Fang again for even once despite him sitting in front of him. 

Suspicious, he squinted his eye at the witch, and he swore he could see the witch sweats harder.

—

The boy and his father came again when he was seven, and he only realised that year it was for the little witch’s father to strengthen the sun filtering arrays he drew around the castle. Summer in June meant longer daylight time and stronger sunlight; the poltergeist didn’t want his then newly-adopted (two years are considered very short for an undead species) children being uncomfortable in the ancient castle that had too many stained windows lighting its inside with natural light.

It was very sweet for Father to do that, Fang thought, but the little witch…was a nuisance.

The little witch doubled down on his effort to befriend Fang that year, after he learnt that they would probably meet again year after year.

At that point, he already made peace and read a lot about the differences between undead species and the living species, so the stark difference in personality that he had with the little witch didn’t make him think he was weird or anything (to be honest, he completely forgot to compare the two of them and his own older brother. It should have been obvious that the little witch was the weird one there for being all bubbly and easily excitable when he and his brother were…not) but Mother Nature, the boy was still a lot to deal with. 

The boy followed him everywhere (probably because they wasn’t anyone else of similar age to play with in that castle and they’re very, very, far away from the nearest port town), joined him in every activity that Fang tried to do (reading in the library, sneaking around and watching the adults do their magic in awe), stick by his side at all time (Fang don’t really need that much sleep like a living creature do, so sometimes, the little witch would fall asleep while staying with Fang and he would just sigh and carry the boy back to his room to let the orange witch sleep properly) and honestly, it would be a miracle if he didn’t see the boy from the moment he open his eyes and fall back asleep.

It was driving Fang crazy, not that the little witch cared because he would always beamed at him when he saw him.

However, by the time the two weeks of them staying at the ancient castle ended, Fang surprised himself by looking behind him to see if the little witch was there to catch up with his pace or not.

Somehow, he did miss his new (without his consent) friend and looked forward to the summer next year to come.

—

The coming-of-age ceremony was an upgrade in a lot of things, but it also had a few downgrades.

He needed even less sleep and food than before (since he no longer needed to grow up), his eyesight and hearing got better, his memory sharper, he could regenerate faster and even his magic got stronger. There were changes that didn’t matter much to him, such as the blackening of his flesh that began with the tips of his fingers that his Father told him would grow until it reached his elbow and knees respectively. 

Rotting flesh, in a way. He was thankful to Mother Nature that there was no smell of decay, but the dead part of his body would be the strong point for his magic, if his reading was correct. An undead creature is the strongest on the truly dead part of their body.

Other changes were quite undesirable, if he was honest with himself. His fangs grew sharper, bigger and far more noticeable. It felt awkward on his mouth, sometimes. 

Vampires, particularly, were quite well known in the bloodsucker family. It didn’t even have to be human blood, even animal blood would do. Not as sustenance, but for the memories. The feeling of being alive.

Being an undead…meant that they lacked the capability to feel. Their hearts did not beat, their nerve endings were fried and whatever the living being could take for granted that made the living truly did feel ‘alive’ was a luxury for them.

Drinking blood was one way for his species to feel something. Too bad for Fang, he never really cared about that.

And he underestimated himself. He didn’t realise how important it is to appreciate ‘feeling’ something until he lost the ability to feel properly.

His heart still pumped blood and everything before his coming-of-age ceremony, because he needed to grow up and everything. The ability to feel something may feel miniscule compared to a true living being, but that was still something compared to the void of emotions that he feels now.

Now, there was practically nothing. Emotions were harder to tap into after his coming-of-age, unless it was something he felt very strongly about, but even then, it felt like he was accessing the emotion through a filter. Everything felt subdued. Undead.

Now he knew why there were so many stories about vampires going out of their mind and going on a blood-drinking rampage after their coming-of-age. Sure, he wouldn’t stand that low, but it would be a lie to say that he never thought about that before.

He wasn’t lying when he told Boboiboy that the itch to drink blood grew stronger.

But then again, he hates drinking blood.

The memory may give him the ability to feel something, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t him who felt that way. It felt like lying to himself, just for the pathetic facade of being alive when he knew better. 

He was just glad he wasn’t the only one feeling like that and he had his older brother who shared the same sentiment with him. It would have felt lonelier if Kaizo drank blood like a normal vampire and only Fang didn’t.

The scritch of his fountain pen on the paper stopped every once in a while and Air on his lap would purr out in bliss as Fang stayed in his desk unmoving, doing his work. The huge fluffy cat probably didn’t want to fight for space with the rest of his brothers and Boboiboy had once told him the cat liked colder stuff. He supposed his undead body was now colder than a living being, the preferred temperature of the cat. 

Another good thing from his transformation, he huffed to himself. He would run his fingers on the cat when he tried to straighten out his jumbled out thoughts. 

His coming-of-age ceremony was on his birthday. It was already June, so he had almost two months to start getting used to feeling less than before, but he should tell his childhood friend, lest he misunderstood Fang again.

The witch might be able to help, being a potion prodigy and the son of a powerful witch who’s known far and wide for his magical arrays.

Or even if the orange witch couldn’t, at least he wanted to explain to his friend properly. He almost lost his childhood friend once for not explaining himself clearly, so he owes the boy at least this much.

He just hoped from the bottom of his no longer beating heart that the witch would understand. 

They are two different beings, after all. One alive and one undead.

—

At age eight, he greeted the annual guest properly, both the little witch and his father. The little witch was suspicious at first, but he soon ditched that suspicion and was just happy to finally be friends.

Nobody taught Fang that being friends took a lot of effort. The books that he read about making friends sure did not emphasize that point enough.

First of all, Fang was a vampire. Being undead meant that his body wasn’t built to have as much energy as a living being. He only reached halfday of the first day the little witch arrived to stop the excitable boy from dragging him everywhere all at once and dragged him to the library and they spent the rest of the day doing activities that did not require much energy.

The little witch did look like he had questions, but he accepted the fact that Fang did not have as much energy reserve as him quickly enough. Not even when until the end of the fortnight they stayed in the castle.

He tugged on his adopted father’s coat to ask why the boy accepted their difference that fast once, and the poltergeist crouched down to tell him the witch’s father probably explained to him already the differences between a living creature and an undead creature, considering their friendship.

“Sometimes, you just have to explain to them properly for them to understand,” Father told him.

“But what if explanations alone didn’t work?” It felt a bit too childish to believe that a simple explanation would work every time. He was sure life was far more complicated than that.

“Well,” his father shrugged, the smile a bit sad now. “If you really mean something to that person, even if they don’t understand in the beginning, they will try. It takes time and effort, but if you’re worth it for them, then they will try to understand.”

If he was worth it. If he wasn’t, then he would probably lose that person no matter how much he cherishes them in return. 

—

The first thing Boboiboy did when he woke up from his sleep was barge into his working room once again just like the night before. “There you are!” He looked relieved to see Air that had migrated from Fang’s lap to the tabletop just beside his forearm. “I was worried that you might have hid somewhere else in this castle.”

“You can just ask Father. He knew everything that happened in this castle,” Fang said without looking up from his papers. “Poltergeist and their home being a part of them and everything.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that it’s still so early. I know Uncle Pian doesn't really like using his corporeal body when the daylight is still this strong.”

“He’s fond of you, and searching for one cat doesn't use that much energy. Why are you being so shy to ask for a simple favour all of a sudden?”

“Because I actually have an even bigger favour to ask him while I’m here this time,” the boy muttered under his breath, probably unaware that Fang could hear that properly.

Oh, yeah, he hadn’t explained in detail the effect of his coming-of-age ceremony to the witch yet.

He placed his fountain pen at the pen holder and began his explanation by saying, “I can hear that.”

Boboiboy looked at him in confusion. “Hear what?”

“What you just said. You said something along the lines of having a bigger favour to ask Father.”

“What?” his eyes widened, heartbeat getting faster. 

Urgh, sometimes he hated that his hearing was so good he could hear other people’s heartbeat. He knew he should have taken the sense numbing potion before the boy woke up just like he did before the boy arrived yesterday. What a horrible way to be reminded of his growing itch to drink blood. He didn’t understand how his older brother dealt with this after his own coming-of-age ceremony.

“No need to panic. I should probably tell you what exactly changed after my coming-of-age ceremony. You asked yesterday, but it felt too long of a conversation and it was already night. You need your dinner and sleep. We have time this morning, if you feel like listening about it, now.”

“Well, I do hope I don’t accidentally spill all my secrets already,” again, the witch muttered, probably unconsciously this time.

“Don’t worry. You haven’t.”

Boboiboy slapped a hand on his mouth and groaned, closing his eyes at the same time. “Alright, okay,” he sighed. “I need to get used to this.”

Nothing really changed, he wanted to say. They’ll still be friends once he finishes explaining, right?

Instead, he began explaining the physical changes and then to all the internal changes that he started feeling once he grew old enough to be a full-fledged vampire.

The witch can make his own decision to try and understand him if he’s worth it. He sure hopes he is.

—

When he turned nine, Kaizo turned twelve and was then trusted to be old enough to take them to the port town nearby (after Uncle Amato smacked Father on the head for fretting too much about his children’s safety and then the two adults have this really weird tussle like they forgot their age or something). They went there in the afternoon after wearing the carved charms to protect him and his brother from the brunt of the sunlight and Kaizo held each of their hands in his death grip, not wanting them to run off from his sight.

Their outing was simple, check the nearby merchant guild for commissions that might be directed to Father and they could stop somewhere else if they wanted to. Being an undead meant that they often lived longer than most and families of the undead would often have these massive records on old and ancient items, making them the perfect person to deal with ancient artefacts that may or may not be dangerous.

Father often take jobs on restoring and studying unknown artefacts that people stumbled upon. Once his records were plenty enough, he would compile the notes and bind them into one book, adding more to his ever-growing records on ancient artifacts in the castle.

Kaizo once told him that he wishes to be the one finding those artefacts, not just receiving it from someone else. After all, the place where an artefact was discovered can sometimes tell more about its history than just the item on its own. However, he being a vampire did mean that his movement outside of the castle would be restricted to only when the daylight wasn’t trying to fry off his skin and so he never really mentioned it to Father yet.

Once they were done collecting the relevant parcel from the merchant guild (and after Boboiboy exhausted the counter guy with his thousands of questions), the little witch asked his older brother if they could stop at the menagerie.

Kaizo agreed without any second questions.

Fang was probably the one that was the most excited to see so many animals at the menagerie. He told them the facts that he knew about each animal at that place and the two of them surprisingly listened to him without interrupting, listening well and asking well-thought out questions here and there.

At one point, the conversation turned into the topic of witch’s familiar and Boboiboy asked him if he could have a familiar (he could not, but the thought was nice enough to entertain), what kind of animal he would like to choose.

“I mean,” he scrunched his eyes to think deeply about it, “I’ve always liked penguins because they’re cute and they live in cold places. I know my body temperature will drop once I get older, but keeping a penguin as familiar feels a bit unrealistic. My second option would be a cat, I guess.”

The little witch perked up at his answer. “Oh, I’ve always liked cats too!”

“You don’t want a dragon like your father?” He thought people would often go for the biggest and grandest option there was.

“Uncle Mimi’s fine,” the boy pouted, “but sometimes he’s just too big. I want something I can hold in my arms and snuggle to sleep. Less likely for my familiar to accidently destroy my house when he turned around too fast, too, but I guess Ayah mastered the restoration spell and could cast it even when he’s asleep because Uncle Mimi keeps on destroying it when he breathes too hard.”

That somewhat destroyed the mental image Fang had of the proud and mighty dragon that was currently curling around the castle perimeter. He huffed out somewhat in amusement. “Are you sure you high and mighty Uncle Mimi won’t try to eat you for saying that? He always threatens to gobble me up if I ever hurt his precious Oboi.”

“Uncle Mimi’s always a bit overprotective of me,” the witch scratched his cheek. “But hey, that’s the first time you call me Oboi. I think we’re close enough for you to keep calling me that,” the boy looked at him excitedly.

“Are you sure we’re close enough?” he asked, just to be annoying back then.

“We are,” the orange witch pouted. “What do you mean we’re not? You picked me up and tucked me to bed when I fell asleep in the middle of our playtime. Only Ayah ever does that to me. I’m sure we’re close enough.”

“But Abang did that too when we both fell asleep. Does that mean he can call you Oboi too?”

“Well,” the little witch looked up to the teenage vampire and began fidgeting, drawing circles with his feet and making his lethal puppy eyes. “If you want to, but can I call you Abang Kaizo too, then?”

Kaizo stared at both of them for a few seconds before finally shrugging his shoulders. “Sure, why not.”

In Kaizo’s term, that probably meant he tolerated the two sniffling and still wet-behind-their-ears creatures in front of him and that was a high praise already. If Fang had a hard time showing his emotions, Kaizo was practically an iceberg.

The little witch beamed at them, happy that he could call another person his friend on that island.

—

Boboiboy looked a little pale when they finally had their late breakfast, the conversation taking longer than he initially thought.

He slid the orange juice that his Father made to the boy. “Is everything a lot for you to take in?” he asked a bit dejectedly. “I’m sorry, I guess I should’ve exposed you to this information before the coming-of-age ceremony happened in the first place.”

“No!” the witch snapped from his trance and waved his hands frantically. “No, it’s not that. I can understand that the changes have been stressful for you too. I’m sorry too. I should have done my own research before coming here, knowing you’re a vampire after all.”

“Then why do you look like someone just died?”

“Didn’t you actually die in your coming-of-age ceremony?” the boy laughed at his own joke before realising Fang was not reacting and the laughter petered off awkwardly. “Sorry, that was lame,” he stared at his soup and grew redder under Fang’s stare.

“No, that was actually funny,” if he thought about it, “but yeah..” he pointed at himself and mouthed ‘dead’.

“Oh,” the witch had a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah, I understand. I guess I’ll miss making dad jokes with you after this.”

“I’ve never laughed at your dad jokes before.”

“Yeah, I know,” Boboiboy smiled wistfully. “But you know, you always have this tick on your face whenever I say something funny which tells me my jokes actually work. I guess I’ll have to try harder now.”

Huh, he didn’t know that before. What else did he miss about himself that his friend actually caught on all these years?

“You’re changing the topic,” he crossed his arms and coughed once into his fist. “Why did you look a bit off just now?”

“I’m…processing?”

“Is that a statement or a question?” he gave the witch a deadpan stare.

“Come on, I told you I’m processing,” the heat was back into his face. “Like, well…I was planning to tell you something too actually.”

“About what?”

“Well, you know what I’d do once I graduated, right?” the witch muttered meekly.

“The witch’s pilgrimage?” he tilted his head. “Yeah, you’ve told me about that before and I did my own reading. I’m sure this is the last year you’ll come to this castle every time June arrives since you’ll be travelling around for an unknown time afterward.”

“Yes, about that…”

Silence.

Fang sighed. “What is it? Do you need help with something? You know you can just ask Father or Abang. After your sun immunity potion that you gave Abang, I’m sure nothing would be too hard for them to help you with.”

“I…need help from you, actually.”

“Me?” Fang pointed at himself. “Sure, why not. You know I’d do anything for you. Why do you have to hesitate this hard?”

“I,” Boboiboy took a deep breath. “IWANTYOUTOCOMEWITHMEONMYWITCH’SPILGRIMAGE!”

The ceiling above them cracked.

They both jumped from their seats as debris fell down upon them. Boboiboy squeaked and ducked under the table, screaming, “UNCLE PIAN, I’MSOSORRYICANEXPLAIN!! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

Fang looked at the cracks on the wall around them that grew even bigger and sighed. He rubbed his forehead, too, even when it could no longer throb from any pain since his coming-of-age just because the motion gave him some semblance of normalcy on this matter.

Yeah, he could understand why Boboiboy hesitated so much now. The main issue wasn't asking him, but dealing with the rest of his family.

They were inside his Father’s domain. If the poltergeist so wished for it, he could just split open the ground and swallow the witch and that would be the end of him, but considering their friendship and the deadly paper birds the witch’s father could send to the castle until the end of poltergeist life…it was probably not worth it.

And Kaizo will be coming home today too. His older brother...could be even more unpredictable than Father sometimes.

The cats barged into the dining room, probably sensing their owner in danger and began meowing. Boboiboy, still under the table, whispered to his cats that he’s fine (not for long) and that they should be ready to lose him if he failed the negotiation, to which the cats meowed and hissed harder at him.

Fang…wasn’t expecting his June to be this chaotic.

He sighed again.

—

He began helping around with Father’s works when he turned ten. Boboiboy entered his witch’s academy at the same age.

At eleven, Boboiboy came to the castle with his familiars. Of course the little witch somehow ended up with seven of them instead of just one, Fang rolled his eyes. Their whole family just had to be that extra. 

He was glad the cats liked him too, though, but considering they’re friends to begin with, it wasn’t that weird. Familiars may be different entities from their master, but they share the same feelings with their master too sometimes. 

He didn’t realise that the boy liked him that much for the cats to be so affectionate at first sight. More cats for him though!

Uncle Amato couldn’t stop giving his son a funny look and the boy grew flustered so easily that year they were staying at the castle.

At twelve, Boboiboy came to the castle alone.

“Where’s your father?” the owner of the castle had asked the young witch at that time. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” the orange witch still looked upbeat, so he concluded that nothing bad happened to Uncle Amato. The older witch was probably just preoccupied with another matter.

“Where is he then?” he asked, although somewhat distracted by the cats rubbing at his heels, trying to pet as many of them at the same time.

“He’s back with Tok Aba, well, my grandfather. Uncle Mimi found another dragon and he’s currently training him to be able to survive because the dragon has been targeted too many times. They needed a huge space that could keep two dragons at once and Ayah was a little bit worried about leaving them both by themselves, so he asked me if I could go there alone. Of course, there’s the whole tracking magic, navigating magic, protection magic, and the set to make sure I’ll reach my destination safely, so, here I am, Uncle Pian!” the little witch beamed.

“Ah,” Father said.

That was the end of the matter. Boboiboy had been trained enough to maintain the sun filtering array on his own so after that year, he often arrived at the ancient castle alone, Uncle Amato only dropping by when he had the time to do so.

Once he was done maintaining the arrays scattered around the castle, he would go back to bothering Fang and they would go on their kid’s adventure again.

When he turned thirteen, Kaizo turned sixteen. He finally told Father about his dream to travel the world.

Father, of course, did not get mad. The half-corporeal ghost never really gets mad at them for anything, not that they ever did anything that required the full wrath of their adopted father. The worst he ever did was just getting into childish shenanigans with his little witch friend.

“Well, I could ask for Amato’s help if he can come up with something,” Father looked thoughtful. “Considering that he created the sun-filtering arrays by himself, I’m sure we can brainstorm something…probably not an array, but something like a—”

Potion.

Boboiboy came back that summer with bright eyes and a new mission instead of just maintaining the array. “I can help,” he told Fang’s older brother, and help he did.

By the time they turned fourteen, the witch already had a prototype for the sun immunity potion. 

Which fails horribly, by the way.

The orange witch panicked so bad and he cried like Kaizo was on his deadbed. Kaizo flicked his forehead for that, which (Fang has suffered the wrath of that forehead flicker before himself and shivers when he saw it again) hurts. If the witch didn’t have better healing ability than a normal human, he might have ended up with brain damage and they would lose their chance for the sun immunity potion in their lifetime. Kaizo did get hounded by paper birds for a few weeks afterward, but Father just sighed and shooed them away.

At fifteen, the prototype was better, but Kaizo had one crucial complaint about it.

“It tastes horrible,” his older brother scrunched his face, “and my taste bud is dead. How is that possible?” 

Boboiboy groaned and slumped dramatically on his working desk. “Abang Kaizo, how can that be your main concern? Do you know how hard it is to make a potion actually taste good? I have a classmate that’s really good at making functional potions, but hers tastes so much worse than this,” the witch shivered. “Trust me, you don’t want to get anywhere near Yaya’s potion.”

“Well,” Kaizo’s eye glinted in the way it did when he thought he was saying something halfway between smart and funny. “I’m not asking for much. You can always make it taste like carrots.”

The witch groaned again. “Of course you would say that, but…”he gave Fang a thoughtful look and muttered something under his breath. 

“Don’t even think about it,” his older brother told the witch, making the boy jump and looking back at the older vampire sheepishly, scratching the back of his head at the same time. Abang Kaizo had a menacing smile on his face now, where the smile stretched too far and his eyes barely had any warmth in it, but the vampire didn’t do anything else.

Fang tilted his head, confused. What?

He only realised something was off when he was sixteen and even then, it was by accident. The witch was again staying at the ancient castle, coming in at the start of June and going away once fortnight ended, sometimes staying longer.

The witch was frustrated with his own progress and fell asleep on his desk, ingredients still scattered around and the tools laid there without being cleaned despite the witch usually being so meticulous about his stuff. Fang only realised his friend’s condition when Cahaya came over to his work room, jumped over his desk and meowed at him asking him to go help his master.

He sighed and picked up his friend, careful not to jostle him too much to let the boy rest after staying up for so long.

Of course, all the moving was bound to wake the witch up, even if not fully, and the witch blinked dazedly before he realised who carried him and put his face at the crook of Fang’s neck again, happy to just be there. He started mumbling something under his breath and Fang couldn’t hear all of it, but he did hear something about Ochobot, Yaya, Ying, Gopal and Qually and the few witches and magical creatures he made friends with back home.

And then the damned conversation happened.

“Fang,” the witch mumbled after a long stretch of silence where he thought the boy might have fallen asleep again.

“Hmm,” he replied.

“I like you.” 

He froze. It was silent in the hallways and their head was close enough for him to hear it properly so he couldn’t have heard that wrong.

“You’re joking?” If he had normal human bodily function, he would have started sweating by now.

“Silly,” the witch yawned. “Why would I be joking about that? I’ve liked you for a long time now. Sometimes I feel like it might even be love with how long it lasted.”

“Why…” he swallowed. “Why would you even like me? I’m sure there’s nicer people to like out there.”

“It’s not about who’s nicer to me and who’s not, but well, I guess you being so nice to me does help,” the witch looked like he really fell asleep again, which was bad for Fang because he needs answers.

Why? 

Why would you like another person?

Why would you fall in love with someone?

Why would you fall in love with me, of all people?

“What makes you like me then?” his voice grew louder with his desperation, but the witch must have been far more tired than he anticipated to not stir at the volume.

“I,” the boy’s voice grew quieter. “I just do. I like you. I love you, even”

Fang never really did get his answer that year. He didn’t understand. How can the witch just say that so casually?

Which, to his—relief? disappointment? a secret third thing?—Well, to his benefit, Boboiboy forgot all about the conversation the next day, probably too tired to remember something he blurted out half asleep. 

He did look fresher after a proper rest but Kaizo would not let the witch sleeping (more like fainting, to be honest) on his desk slide just that. After that day, Kaizo subjected the witch to his daily training which the witch exhausted one thousand and one reasons why he should not be joining Kaizo who was a monster in strength alone in his training but Kaizo shot down every and each excuses down with answers that were too logical for Boboiboy not to accept.

Fang had enough distraction from the damned conversation by watching and laughing at Boboiboy training (running for his life) against Kaizo, but he might need to pipe down the noise a bit because his older brother soon dragged him into the training too and they both suffered the older vampire’s full might (torture) together.

Aren't undead creatures supposed to be low on energy? he lamented for the nth time as he stared at the ceiling over the training room. How abang has so much energy, he never knew.

Sometimes he resented Father for training Kaizo too well, but the poltergeist had always cared a lot about their safety. He didn’t want his child to travel the vast dangerous world without anything to protect himself with, and the best protection in the ghost’s opinion was always his child’s own strength.

Father had trained Kaizo too well and now he and the witch were suffering from the consequences.

—

“I’ve come here prepared,” Boboiboy gulped and sat ramrod straight on the chair in the middle of Father’s office room. Tanah and Cahaya were beside the chair, each had a stack of documents in front of them and Petir was standing on guard in front of his master, hissing and probably ready to jump the poltergeist if Father did anything funny.

Father was in his chair, chin over his intertwined fingers and the scary smile he always had when he was mad but didn’t want to scare the kid too much was there. The closed eyes smiled and the lips that stretched too far and the shadow over that expression that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

Sometimes, he forgot that his adoptive father was a ghost with how kind and doting he had been, and before he adopted him and his older brother, Father had a reputation for being deadly.

Fang just hoped Father wouldn’t be too deadly today since he didn’t want to lose his friend, even if the thought of the witch being an undead creature seemed intriguing.

“Alright,” the poltergeist finally said. “Let’s listen to what you have to say.”

Boboiboy coughed into his fist once and picked up the stack of documents in front of Tanah. The cat meowed at him once, face concerned and the witch smiled at his cat. “Thank’s for the encouragement, Tanah,” the witch muttered faintly, which, of course, Fang heard just fine.

Fang was there to make sure they don’t try to kill each other (or more likely for Father to kill the witch and the cats scratching his father’s face into ribbons to avenge their master) but the ghost already gave him a warning to stay out of this, so he stood at the side of the room, leaning against the wall and observing silently.

Enjoying the chaos too. It had been a while since anything interesting happened since his heart stopped working, after all.

Boboiboy straightened out again and cleared his throat. “So,” he began, “Fang once told me he kinda wish to see the outside world himself—”

“I did?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“He did?” Father’s smile turned a shade scarier.

“Eeekk,” the witch jumped on his seat and flipped through his document quickly. “IHAVETHERECORDFORTHATPLEASEWAIT— There!” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I did write it down in my diary— ahem, I mean, my personal daily record, or you might want to call it—” Father’s eye narrowed, “—okay, okay, let’s skip the semantics, but I’ve written it here: on the fourth of June about fourteen years ago, Fang told me when we were sitting down at the library at around—” and the boy rambled on while Father listened to him intently.

Fang was…amused, to say the least. Fourteen years ago was when they were seven, the second year the witch came over to the ancient castle and when the boy started insisting that they should start being friends.

He still keeps a diary about him from fourteen years ago?

Just how much does this guy like him, actually?

And then his mood dampened when his mind inevitably asked, would he ever like the boy just as much as he liked him?

With his newly dead heart? Probably not.

And that was the saddest part. The witch could never get the love he deserved from Fang since he was an undead creature from the moment he was born and it would only get worse from there.

—

Just like when he was little, when Fang was lost in his life, he would turn to the huge collection of books Father kept in the archive.

Not that it ever gave him the answer he really needed (and half of the time, he read the wrong stuff, so all the research was practically useless anyway) but he needed to do something to stop his mind from spiraling. 

To stop his mind from spiralling, hah. 

Scratch that, he’s already spiraling really bad.

What makes you like someone? 

He threw away the book talking about love potions.

What makes you love someone? 

The book talking about ripping someone’s heart out of their body to possess the owner’s eternal love was also thrown away.

How do you like someone? 

Fang stared at the book talking about sacrificing oneself to forever bind the object of their affection’s thoughts to dying sacrificed person weirdly. Why does Father even have this kind of book in his archive? He threw that aside.

How to know you like someone?

There was already a mountain of books in front of him by the end of the night, all useless. Fang laid down on the floor in defeat and stared at the ceiling.

How do you love someone?

He still had about nine months before June come again and he would have to face the witch and his boundless feelings. Now that he knew the witch like him, his actions started to make sense. The red cheeks, the excessive physical touch, the smile that seemed too fond sometimes, the cats.

Dear Mother Nature, the cats have been very telling and he missed that when it’s already in front of his face.

He had read all of that in books about human emotion (that he read because he was so bored at that time) and books about witches (he just wanted to know his friend better). He should have seen that coming.

Except he never did.

Because he never really thought about love and affection before.

It never even crossed his mind if he was being honest, even if it came up in the books he was reading a lot of the time.

Love and affection…are foreign things to him.

Sure, he loves his Father and older brother. He would have to die first before anyone tried to harm them (even if in reality, it would be the exact opposite since he was the weakest between the three), but that was expected, wasn’t it? 

Familial love is normal, even when they’re all undead creatures and none of them were too mushy-feely with one another. He knows they love him too and he’s glad for that.

He felt some sort of deep respect and curiosity towards Uncle Amato and his bright red dragon. If the guy was ever in danger (unlikely, because the dragon would eat anyone who tried to harm his master first) then he supposed he would come for the man’s rescue even if it was a bit of a bother. He supposed that was love and affection too, in a way?

But romantic love…his heart doesn't even work like a living creature does.

And Boboiboy was the most alive among all the living creatures that he knew. 

The boy was bright, bubbly and very easily earned the affection of the town folks whenever they came by the port town for an errand or just a simple outing.

People fawn over him. 

Fang never did. 

People would blush and be extra kind to the witch. Fang never really felt the need to treat the boy like that, even when they had been friends for a long time. 

He heard the boy tell him he had to awkwardly reject a few people that confessed to him back at the witch’s school. 

The only thing Fang could think of was what kind of an idiot would confess their undying love and the desire to be with another person during their studies when it’s not even sure they’d graduate and once they did, witches would go on a long, which sometimes even last up to literal decades, of witch’s pilgrimage, never seeing one another again unless fate allows.

So, yeah. Romantic love was the farthest way from his mind and now it was shoved in front of his face by his own dear friend.

Dear, because what else could the orange witch ever be?

He cares a lot for his friend, yes, without any doubt, but more than that? 

He doesn't even know.

He doesn't know how to know.

His father’s advice when he was younger to explain and then understanding would come felt a bit ineffective now. What’s there to explain when he doesn't even know what he should explain?

He doesn't even understand himself.

He can’t just say he’s an undead and be done with it. It felt too shallow and thoughtless of an answer for his friend. To such a deep feeling as love.

He knew he had the capability to love, all creatures do, dead or alive, but just…not the same.

Not the same depth, not the same butterfly-in-the-stomach kinda way.

It’s love, sure, just…a little bit undead.

It won’t be the same love Boboiboy felt for him.

And that didn’t seem fair.

It never bothered him before that he couldn’t feel much, but now, that made him so small.

And it would get worse once he grew up and he had his coming-of-age ceremony since his heart would stop beating entirely after that.

And then it would feel even harder to feel anything.

How…does he even begin to explain that to Boboiboy?

Would his friend even understand?

How do you explain to someone who feels so much that he just wasn’t born like that?

No, he’s not broken or anything, this is just the way he is.

Unable to feel love as deeply as a living creature.

Fang was spirally again. He kept thinking about the same thing over and over and still couldn’t come to a decisive answer. He was tired of thinking too much and it all went back to the notion that he was just not capable of loving another living creature the same way they did, and life felt so unfair.

He didn’t want to lose his friend for being like this.

He didn’t want to lose his friend for just being himself.

Dammit. Damn it all. He covered his eyes with his arms, wishing he had the ability to cry. He heard crying was how living creatures let go of excessive emotions that they felt, and wasn’t that funny? Fang couldn’t even feel much to begin with and he wished he could cry.

He had nine months to come up with a proper answer for his friend, even when the said friend didn’t realise he had confessed his feelings to him.

Fang hated his life a bit that day.

He did the next best thing that he knew he could do instead of crying. 

He screamed.

—

Fang had tuned out the rest of the conversation (negotiation?) when, miraculously, Boboiboy won the argument against Father.

Father sighed very deeply, which for a ghost meant that his sigh went for a very long, long time, and then huffed out in defeat. “Okay, Oboi, I get your explanation. It would be unfair for me to stop my own child if he wants to see the world with his own eyes. With your sun immunity potion and how well you can fight together, I’m sure it’s safe for Fang to go out just like Kaizo.”

Father sniffed then. “My children, already leaving their nest and it’s just me alone in this castle,” the ghost muttered under his breath, which Fang awkwardly averted his eyes away to not let his father know he heard that. Sometimes, it felt like the poltergeist forgot that he and his brother can hear very well.

Or maybe that was just Father’s method of guilt tripping. He never knew what that half-corporeal father of his thought, sometimes.

But he knew Father would never go back on his words. Fang can follow Boboiboy out on his witch’s pilgrimage.

Boboiboy breathed his own sigh of relief, slumping down on his chair. His loyal feline familiars all nudged him with their head and meowed, probably asking if he was alright. The witch waved his hand and gave his cats a thumbs up, saying, “Everything’s fine. Terbaik!”

“This is just asking to take Fang away on my witch’s pilgrimage,” the boy muttered under his breath, “I can’t imagine asking for his hand—”

Father slammed his hand on his table and the beautiful, thick and sturdy mahogany table cracked into two, falling sideways in a thunderous crash. Api and Petir jumped in surprise and hissed at the ghost, but Father’s expression remained the same.

The scary smile.

“What did you just say?” the poltergeist tilted his head ninety degrees and the air grew colder. Even with his low sensitivity, Fang shivered from the cold.

Boboiboy’s teeth were practically chattering at the moment and he was back being ramrod straight in his chair. “No-nothing, sir,” he squeaked, stuttering even those short words.

“Good,” Father opened his eyes. It was completely black, unlike the normal eyes he usually appeared when there were living creatures nearby. “I think our discussion is over here.”

“Yes, sir!” the orange witch piled his cats in his arms along with documents and promptly rushed out of the room, almost bumping headfirst into the door when it suddenly opened up and Kaizo walked in.

Boboiboy bowed deeply (Air almost falling down his shoulder and Daun hanging on his dear life on top of his head) at the older vampire who looked at him weirdly and dashed out of the room faster than any normal human could. They all watched the witch go.

Kaizo then looked at him and Father (and the broken table) back and forth. When none of them said anything, he coughed once into his fist and asked them awkwardly, “So…what just happened?”

Father opened his mouth. “Your brother-in-law just made his first move.”

“WHAT?!!” the doorknob in Kaizo’s hand shattered almost instantly. Fang looked at the remnant of the doorknob made of pure gold in a muted sadness.

That will cost a lot to repair, he thought. And the mahogany table too. And maybe the structural wall damage that Father just caused during breakfast, but he guessed the poltergeist can work on that himself, the castle being part of his body and everything.

“Fang!” his brother snapped him out of his thoughts. “What is this I’m hearing?”

“What?” he raised his eyebrow at Kaizo, arms still crossed. “I thought you already knew?”

The doorknob on his older brother’s clenched fist turned into dust.

Fang sighed. Boboiboy ran away and saved himself earlier, so now it was his job to calm these two undead creatures that were on the verge of a rampage in front of him alone.

The things he would do for the people he likes, he swore.

—

They had a horrible fall out when they were seventeen. 

The sun immunity potion finally worked without any issues and Kaizo could try it in his journey out into the world a few days from then. They could finally take a break and the witch dragged him upstairs for stargazing.

“What’s wrong?” Boboiboy had been the one breaking the silence as they stared at the sea of stars above. “You’ve been quiet since I arrived.”

He dreaded the conversation, but he was glad that they could also talk about it now. It had been driving him insane and he didn’t know if he could keep it buried any longer.

Talk about what? He didn’t even know. He hadn’t made up his mind fully yet. But he would try to explain. 

Explain a little bit of him.

His conditions, his undead heart.

How he could never want the witch the same way the witch would ever want him.

Not viscerally, never that deeply.

“You know,” he swallowed a deep breath, even when his body didn’t really need the air to function. “Last year, you actually told me you like me. Love me. By accident of course, I doubt you even remembered that,” he started speaking faster now, “but, yeah, you told me you love me and I’ve been thinking about it ever since and I feel like I should tell you that I know about it, and— Umm, Oboi?”

The witch had practically stopped breathing beside him. He slowly sat up, and then turned sharply at Fang. “You knew and you didn’t say anything?” there was a tone of hurt already in his voice.

Fang didn’t like this. Fang didn’t like any of this.

(Fang didn’t like himself for not being able to love the boy back as deeply as the witch did).

“Oboi, I’m sorry, I know I should have said something sooner, but—”

“But what?” the stars above gave him a clear view of the watering eyes opposing him. “Are you making fun of me for liking my own best friend like an idiot? That I’ve been so sticky and clingy and just so damn annoying all these time and now you figured out why? That you’ve been thinking of the best way to let me down and it took you a whole year to figure that out??” the witch spat out.

“What?” No, all those thoughts the orange witch was having never even crossed his mind. “No, Oboi, I was just trying to tell you that I…don’t feel the same way.”

That came out wrong.

“Is this a rejection then?”

No, he didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“No, Oboi, listen.” His words were not cooperating with him right now. He just— He wanted to— He—

“I am listening. So, what is it?” it was clear how despite his question, all the witch wanted to do at that moment was just…be anywhere else but there.

He failed his friend.

He failed to explain properly.

He didn’t know what, or how, to explain.

I’m sorry that I’m incapable of love?

I’m sorry for being this way?

I’m sorry that being myself…hurt you.

I never wish to hurt you…

I’m sorry.

Fang didn’t even know what he was sorry about anymore.

He might have stayed silent a bit too long, because Boboiboy huffed and stood up, brushing the dust away from his clothes, not even once looking back at the vampire when all Fang had been doing was stare and stare and stare.

Say something, his mind screamed. Say something! Anything! Fix this mess!

He couldn’t even fix himself, could he ever fix the best relationship he ever had in his life now that he was losing his one and only friend over some dumb stuff of not being able to explain himself?

The witch stood there for a moment, before he let out a deprecating laugh. “Well, I’m sorry for disgusting you. I’ll stay away from now on. You don’t have to worry about entertaining me anymore.”

His outstretched hand never really did reach the witch. Maybe he was a coward, maybe he just never had the bravery to go forth and catch the boy and explain.

Apparently, with the lack of heart, he lacked courage too.

—

Explaining was easy. 

He looked at Father and his older brother respectively before saying, “Well, what he said was right. I want to see the outside world with my own eyes. I’ve been reading a lot and helping with the artefacts and listening to the stories Abang—” he mentioned Kaizo's name just to throw him under the bus too in case Father got emotional again, “—told me in his letter and all of that made me curious. That’s all.”

To be honest, he didn’t even remember saying he wanted to see the world with his own eyes to Oboi. 

Well, he did get curious sometimes, but not as curious as Kaizo to actually travel away from the castle for a long stretch of time. He was very happy with his life, but well, if the witch wanted him to come along, then who was he to refuse?

The thing he would do for the people he likes—loves, his mind corrected—he thought for the nth time.

There was another round of arguments and shattered furniture (and Fang swore he heard walls cracking somewhere but a brief glance around the office told him none of the wall was affected. Well, he just hoped that the orange witch was somewhere safe… wait a minute—) but at the end of the day, he had two very undead men pouting at him and giving him rather pitiful eyes as a last attempt to sway him, but he stood firm on his decision.

“No, I’m going. That’s final.”

The two men sighed with Kaizo even placing a dramatic hand on his temple (apparently, he had to learn how to act better to fit in among the living creatures during his travel and he had gotten rather good at it too) and they both said, “Okay, fine. You can go, but do keep in contact.”

“Who do you think I am? Of course I will, but—” now that they had stopped trying to change his mind, he could finally ask what he had been wondering for a while now. “Abang, why do you smell like another living being?”

Father froze in his mid-speech and robotically turned to look at the older vampire. “Kai,” he said after a few seconds of silence, “why is there another living creature in my castle?”

“Oh, you just noticed that? We’ve just landed a few hours ago and I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my friend,” Kaizo said, a bit too nonchalantly considering the gravity of what he just said.

“WHO??” “YOUR WHAT??” Fang and Father said at the same time, to which Kaizo calmly replied, “My friend. You know, the one I made during my travels. I think I’ve mentioned it somewhere in my letters. Or did I?” he actually looked like he only thought about it then.

KAIZO?? A FRIEND?? HIS OLDER BROTHER COULD MAKE FRIENDS???

The world is ending soon.

That started another round of arguments (and maybe a few furniture that needed repairs too afterward) but Kaizo was a professional at avoiding any real damage, therefore he would get out of the argument unscathed. 

—

It might have been too obvious that they were fighting, because for once, the castle was too damn silent.

His older brother left them alone for a few days, thinking that if he left them to their device, they would make up on their own. Obviously, that did not happen, so he found brother knocking on his door and opening it up without waiting for his permission (rude).

“What do you want?” he didn’t like entertaining anyone right now. He barely had enough energy to entertain his own thoughts.

“Knock, knock,” his brother replied, sitting down beside him on the bed.

“You’re already inside. The joke doesn’t work anymore.”

“Urgh, who would have thought that the hardest thing to prepare for my travel was actually human interaction,” Kaizo complained.

“Boo hoo, how sad,” he deadpanned. “Now could you please sulk on your own in your own room. Leave me alone.”

“Someone’s sassy today. What’s up, carrot?”

“Abang,” he hugged his knees tighter. “Please.”

“Whoah,” Kaizo looked alarmed. “You never said please. Now you really need to tell me what’s wrong, or else I’ll cancel the entire trip and stay here until you confess.”

“What?” he looked at his brother in surprise. “You can’t just cancel everything. You’ve been wanting to see the world for so long.”

“What are you talking about,” his brother ruffled his hair rather roughly. “The whole world that I know about is here. You, Father, that orange witch you’ve been trying so hard to ignore these few days.” Kaizo gave him a small smile then. “I don’t even know the world outside yet, but I know I can’t lose the world I already have in my hand with me right now. So, carrot, tell me what’s wrong?”

He didn’t know exactly what’s wrong. Everything felt wrong. He tried to explain once and he ruined a friendship that he had for years. A bit laughably, his mind started thinking, well, what if Abang would hate him too?

“Fang,” Kaizo gently placed his hand on his shoulder, something he realised his older brother’s gesture of showing concern and affection, as weird as that sounded. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong if you just keep glaring at the bedsheet. I know the bedsheet’s not the problem, and even if it is, we can just burn it down and replace it with a new bedsheet. Use your words. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His brother…was a bit extreme at times. What did he even have against the bedsheet??

But Kaizo was also right. And wrong.

“I used my words and it ruined my friendship,” he mumbled out quietly. 

Of course his brother would catch that perfectly. “Well, what did you say? It can’t be that bad.”

Starting from their fight seemed like a bad idea and he didn’t want Kaizo to storm down the corridor and murder someone that night, so he began from the very beginning.

“Abang, how do you know if you love or like someone?”

Kaizo, surprisingly, merely tilted his head. “Well, you just know, don’t you? I love you, I love Father. It would probably kill me to say this out loud to his face, but I like that orange witch too. I just know. It takes a bit of evaluation, but that’s it. If you love them, you do. If you don’t, then you don’t.”

That was a bit too simple for the mess that was his thoughts, so Fang asked again. “Well, but is it really love if you don’t feel as deeply as the person who loves you?” his voice grew quieter. “You know, being undead and all.”

Just being ourselves. Undead. Not really capable of feeling that deeply.

A look of understanding passed Kaizo’s face then. ‘“Is that what this is? You feel guilty for being yourself? For not having the faculty to feel as deeply as a living being?”

He nodded his head.

“Did you forget that I’m just like you? Does that make my love less? Do you ever resent me for loving you lesser than what a normal living creature could?”

“What? No?!” He knew his brother was a vampire too and it never felt like he was any less loved by his one and only remaining flesh and bone in this world, despite how stoic Kaizo had been in the very beginning.

“Then, do you resent Father for being an undead too? He could feel better than us, yes, but at the end of it, it’s never quite the same as Uncle Amato and  his son, isn’t it? Not that warm and bubbly and all. Did you feel any less loved by him?”

He shook his head. Sure, Father’s love wasn’t warm or sunshine (he hated both of that, after all) but raging storm and the cut of a blizzard if anyone dared to look at them wrong. This whole castle would tore itself apart to protect them if they were ever in any danger, and that was just how much Father loved them.

“Then why do you feel less than us? We’re the same, aren’t we? We’re all undead. Have you ever loved us less just because you have a hard time showing it to us?”

“No,” he shook his head again. “I do love you guys, even if it’s not…what you’d usually see from the mainstream.”

“Reject the mainstream, then,” Kaizo said casually. “Why do you need to defer to them anyway? This has always been our world: You, me and Father. If the person who said they love you but couldn’t understand, then, well, it’s just the wrong person and wrong time, I guess? But love was there. Do not deny it, carrot.”

“I—”

“No need to be grateful. I know I’m great.”

That killed off the gratitude in an instant. “Wow, that reminds me,” he gave his brother a deadpan look again, “when are you going away, anyway? I know you can’t hold back your plan for too long. That’ll cost too much money that you won’t have enough for the rest of the travel if you don’t follow your schedule.”

“I’ll stay here until you two make up,” Kaizo decided easily. “I don’t want my younger brother greeting me off on my journey with a sad face. That felt a bit too much like bad luck.”

“You’ve never believed in luck before.”

“Maybe I do now, since I’m going far away from home,” his face looked wistful. “Who knows what’ll happen to me out there.”

“You’ll survive.”

“You’re supposed to say, I’ll live. Surviving is a downgrade from living.”

“We’re not even alive.”

“Once you’ve built up enough memories in your life, maybe you are alive after all.”

He stewed in the silence and his older brother was happy enough to let it stretch and bend until Fang opened his mouth again. “Keep in contact?” he said quietly.

“Sure, I will. I’ll write you a letter each week and you can complain to me later if that’s not enough.”

“Where will you find that much paper and ink in the first place?”

“I’ll steal if I have to.”

“You’re not even out there yet and you’re thinking of breaking the law.”

“Breaking the law is the easy part. Running away, that would be far more troublesome.”

“Run back here if you have to. The castle will keep you safe.”

They began their rough scuffle and Kaizo won easily, just like he always did. He waved his older brother away when the vampire suddenly remembered something he forgot to pack for his travel.

Thanks, he didn’t say.

Kaizo waved back and closed the door behind him like he knew anyway.

—

Boboiboy wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in Fang’s room either.

He walked to the garden outside, guided by the moonlight and spotted the orange witch with his cats and another man, talking rather hushedly.

“Oboi,” he called them from afar, not wanting to surprise them by sneaking around. His footsteps did get lighter too after his coming-of-age ceremony, somehow. “There you are. I’ve been worried about you since I heard the castle walls cracking again. Are you okay?”

The witch visibly brightened up when he saw him. “Fang!” he stood up and jogged towards him to make their meeting point closer. “I’m fine,” he smiled. “Are you okay, though? How’s Abang Kaizo? And apparently he brought a friend with him. That’s new.”

“I’m fine, Father and Abang did agree to let us travel together in the end. And, who’s this?” he addressed the man that had been fidgeting beside them for a while now.

“Hiya, there,” the man smiled. “Well, to be honest I have no idea Kassim was about to drag me to his home. Imagine my surprised it turned out that he lived in a fucking castle all these time. Mother Nature, you should’ve seen how he lived during our travels. He didn’t look a bit out of place being squeezed inside a dingy inn or eating only bread for the day.”

“Kassim?”

“Oh, that’s an inside joke between us. I forgot he goes by Kaizo sometimes. Calling him Kassim seems funnier.”

Okay, his older brother’s acting might have been a bit too good at this point if his travelling companion that lived with him 24/7 couldn’t even tell. Honestly, he thought Kaizo might have been bluffing all these times. 

Who would have thought he would be proven sorely wrong in his assumption?

“So, how did you two meet?” he asked the man. 

“Oh, he’s a pirate,” Boboiboy supplied, looking very fine with the fact that there was a criminal beside them.

“Ex-pirate,” the man began sweating profusely. “Kid, don’t try to get me murdered here. I’ve received enough death threats from Kassim on a daily basis, although it did lessen considerably recently.”

“Oh, there you are,” his older brother and Father joined them. “Here’s my Father that I've talked about, before.”

“Well, to be honest, I thought he was dead and you had a tragic backstory or something, I never really thought he would literally be dead, dead,” Fang heard the man whisper to Kaizo and how his older brother rolled his eyes at the man.

Father did narrow his eyes at the ex-pirate, but that was just him and his scary evaluating look whenever he met someone new. Considering how the man survived Kaizo all these times (the worst of them three, in his humble opinion), he was pretty sure the man could survive them.

Daun meowed at his feet and he picked up the cat carefully, holding it in his arms as he watched the show in front of him. He glanced at Boboiboy every once in a while, watching the guy huffed in amusement and allowed himself that little bit of peace before the chaos of preparing for the witch’s pilgrimage began. 

—

Talking to Abang, an undead like him, was easy.

Talking to Boboiboy, who’s very much alive and he would like it if the orange witch remained alive for much longer, thank you very much, was decidedly much, much, much harder.

He decided to spill everything in a letter instead and prayed to Mother Nature he didn’t accidentally screw himself over in his writings. Well, if he did, he would just try other methods to apologize, he guessed.

Now, finding a messenger for him to send the letter to the boy.

Tanah would be by his owner’s side, consoling the witch. Angin would be a glorified crying pillow for the boy. Petir would be nearby, guarding his master in case an enemy (Fang) tried to approach. Api, despite being hyperactive and a bit reckless at times, would do his best to cheer up the orange witch. 

Daun…huh, sometimes he couldn’t guess what the munchkin cat was thinking. Probably up in a ceiling somewhere if he wasn’t already in one of the castle’s hidden air ducts. 

Cahaya…he just hoped that the cat wasn’t somewhere brewing a deadly potion to accidentally spill on Fang’s carrot donut later. Fang shivered. That siamese cat was too smart for his own good. 

Therefore, he concluded that Air was his best bet. The Main Coon cat was big enough to easily spot and he always liked cold places (which was probably why he liked Fang so much since his body was colder than most). He found Air in the basement where the witch often kept his perishable ingredients.

“Air,” he looked up at the cat sleeping on the top shelf. The cat opened his eyes but did not react like he usually does (jumping into Fang’s arm). Well, at least the cat didn’t try to kill him yet, so he probably could take that as a sign Boboiboy didn’t want him gone from this world yet. 

For now.

If he let the fight stretch any longer he might start facing death by cat’s claws sooner than he anticipated, since a witch’s familiar shares feelings with their owner. 

“Air, I need your help. I want to apologise.” The cat’s ears perked up. “Please,” he begged the cat and gave his best pleading face to the huge fluffy cat.

Air slowly uncurled from his spot and jumped down. He looked up at Fang once he landed safely and meowed once.

“Here,” he passed the cat his letter. “Please send this to him. If this didn’t work, I’ll find other ways to apologise. If he really didn’t want to be my friend after this…” he swallowed, well, even if he didn’t want to— “then I’ll accept his decision.”

Air bit the letter with his mouth (Fang hoped the cat didn’t accidentally melted the letter with his saliva) and nodded at him once before making his way back to his owner. 

Fang watched the cat disappear from sight, praying for the best.

—

“The paper was finalised!!” the witch barged into his workroom again. “We can plan our trip now!”

“You mean, your witch’s pilgrimage? You do realise that it’s not all fun and games and you actually have work to do during our travels?”

“Urgh, Fang, don’t remind me,” the guy flopped on the chair opposite of where he was sitting. “I almost thought I would go crazy before I graduated from that school. Everyone else was already out there and seeing the world while I’m still sad and lonely all by myself trying to finish my research.”

“I told you to submit something else for your graduation thesis. You brought this on your own.”

“Not even a comforting word?? Woe be upon me, you don’t love me anymore,” he bumped his head on the table, which Fang quickly protected his forehead from coming into contact with the table’s surface with the hand he wasn’t holding his fountain pen. 

He let the silence stretch.

“Come on, you don’t want to try and comfort me? Not even a bit?”

“No matter how late you might finish your study, I’ll always be here for you, but you already know that, so what’s the point of saying it?”

“Aww, really? That’s so sweet?”

“Oboi,” he rolled his eyes, “You know me. Don’t waste your time second guessing when you can just ask me what you want to know yourself.”

“You rolled your eyes, but there’s a tick at the corner of your mouth that only appears when you want to laugh. So you do think I’m funny? Thanks, babe.”

He cursed the unknown part of himself that he didn’t even realise before.

Well, whatever, as long as that made the witch happy.

—

The fight ended with a teary witch jumping into his embrace and hugging him as tight as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” The witch sobbed, the tears falling faster. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should’ve listened to you when you tried. You’re wrong in your letter. You have nothing to apologise for. It’s my fault here. Do you know how sad I am when you keep on apologising for being yourself in every few paragraphs?”

His eyes didn’t have a crying function, but he hugged the boy just as tightly, if not tighter. “No, I really should apologise. I did hurt you in the process, didn’t I? You wouldn’t have to be this sad if only I talked with literally anyone from my family before.”

Boboiboy only shook his head at his word and continued crying, not bothering to say anything else as they would just go back and forth apologising and stopping the other person from apologising. Fang ran his fingers through the witch’s hair to calm him down, but there had been something that he had wanted to confirm.

The itch to ask grew and when the orange witch had managed to calm down a bit, he pushed them apart by the shoulder and looked at him straight in the eye. “But,” Fang hesitated, “I have to ask, you do understand what I’m trying to say in the letter right?”

The witch sniffed. “Which part exactly are we talking about right now? You do write a lot in that letter. I don’t want to jump into conclusion right now and we’d end up fighting again.”

“The—” he swallowed. He didn’t know why he still felt scared despite already explaining everything. “Well, the part where I can’t really reciprocate your feelings the way you wanted me to. I can’t— I don’t have the capability to do so. So, Oboi, please—”

“But do you like me?”

“Yes?” he was surprised by the interruption and stared back at Boboiboy who was looking at him earnestly. “Yes, of course I like you. I’ve always been fond of you, but—”

“And that’s all I ask in return,” the witch said simply and hugged him again, hiding his face on the crook of Fang’s neck as if the conversation was settled.

“No, but—” he was desperate to explain. “But, Oboi, I don’t desire you as much as you may desire me. I can’t love you as much as you love me. I won’t be able to want you as much as you want me. Please,” he begged, the hand holding the boy gripped him tighter, “please I don’t want to hurt you for being like this. You have to understand, this is not an equal exchange and I just won’t be able to give you back as much as you might be willing to give me and I know the basis of a good relationship is equal—”

“Who said that?” the boy mumbled on his nape, still not raising his face. “Why do you believe that so much you’re willing to push me away?”

“Oboi, please, listen. When a relationship is not equal, when one side gives more and the other only takes and takes and takes, I know resentment can build up.” That was how all good relationships, no matter how good, could easily end. Dear Mother Nature, he just knew. He read too much and seen too much to not know about this. “You may say you’re fine with it now, but what about a few years after this? What about decades after this and you’ve been giving me so much love and affection and I’m just nothing? I can’t even feel much to begin with.” 

That was the whole crux of the problem with this relationship and he had to know the boy’s stance now before they got in too deep and then it would be just pain. “What about when you’re tired of giving and I can’t even make you feel as loved?” he asked. “Would that mean one day you’ll just realise I’m not worth it and then this whole relationship, friendship, will burn down just like that? Think about this properly, please. Don’t hurt yourself just because you want me now and then you’ll realise later that I might not be who you wanted me to be.”

The orange witch stayed silent and unmoving for a while and Fang allowed him the moment to think. That was the best way for this relationship to work, not really with their heart, but laughably, with their heads. The boy should really think about this properly and figure out if the whole trouble was worth his—

“Tell me,” Boboiboy finally said and Fang tensed up. “Tell me then, would you ever try to leave me first if I said yes to this relationship?”

“What? No, of course not,” Fang looked down at the tuft of hair still hiding his face from him.

“If I do something sweet, would you mock me or say what I’m doing is useless since you can’t even feel the affection behind the gesture?”

“No, regardless if I can feel it or not, I will still appreciate the gesture and the effort you’re still willing to put for me.”

“If I reach out to you and you don’t feel the same way for me, tell me, would you— well, I don’t know, lash out at me? Would you say my desire for you is disgusting or anything like that?”

Fang frowned now. “Well, no? I don't see the point of lashing out if I can just say I’m uncomfortable with something and even if you’re unhappy with that, we can find a way to compromise, right?”

“Right,” Boboiboy agreed. He sighed out and pushed himself away from Fang again to give him a determined look. “So, again, I’ll ask you, why do you think this relationship won’t work?”

“Because—”

“And don’t say it’s because you’re an undead,” his eyes sharpened. The witch huffed, “You’ve explained that well and although I can’t really understand the full effect of that statement now, I’ll do my best to understand it within time. So give me other justification than that.”

“Because,” okay, so the main reason he had been so against this was because of who he was in the first place, but there was also the issue of— “it won’t be equal?”

“I do see where you’re coming from with this, but Fang,” the witch looked at him solemnly. “Do you really think only equal relationships would ever work in this world?”

“Well, that’s the main factor in keeping a relationship afloat, so I do think it’s an important thing to consider.”

“But I wasn’t really expecting you to be like me, though? I know I am sticky and clingy and sometimes way too emotional, but that’s just how I like to show my affection to others. When did I ever act or say that I want you to be like me too?”

That’s…a good question actually.

When Fang stayed silent, the witch continued again. “I know you said you wanted this to be equal, but I want a relationship with you, not a carbon copy of myself. I don’t need you to be affectionate just like me. I never expect that to begin with. I fell in love with you, didn’t I? Why do you feel like you need to change or something just as weird when all I’m asking for is you?”

“But,” Fang looked down on his feet, “Will that be fair to you?” 

I don’t want you to feel lonely when you’re with me just because I can’t give you the same affection.

“I would say it’s quite fair,” Boboiboy shrugged. “After all, it’s not just me being all lovey-dovey and affectionate that you have to deal with. You have to deal with me being annoying, cranky, high, all over the place, messy and so much more too,” he laughed, “are you sure you’re not getting the worse end of the stick here? I know I can be a lot for some people to handle.”

Fang scoffed. “That’s practically just how you’ve always been all these times. Why would I be bothered by it now if I’ve survived it all these years?”

“Hey! Are you trying to say I’m annoying all the time? How dare you!” the witch pulled on his cheeks and laughed harder.

That pulled a little smile on his face. “But, Oboi,” he wanted to confirm this one last time, “are you sure?”

Are you sure you want me?

“Of course. I’ve always known what I felt and what I wanted. You,” the fingers pulling in his cheeks turned to gently caress it now. “I want you. In whatever way you’re comfortable in giving me a part of you in my life. I’m already grateful that you’re my friend, but I wanted more. I’m sorry if my desire for you makes you uncomfortable, but please, give me a chance?”

Fang stared at the pleading face the witch made at him and took a deep breath. “Sure, I like you too. Let’s do this, then. I’ll do my best to appreciate whatever you’re willing to give me even if I can’t understand the full extent of what you feel for me.”

“And I’ll do my best to understand you too. Please be patient with me, because I will be so annoying and you will want to get rid of me first,“ the witch beamed at him, tear tracks and snot and all.

If Fang could laugh like a living creature—bright and bubbly and loud—he would have done so, but as it was, he was an undead creature and the soft laughter was the best he could do.

I will do my best to understand you, the witch had said to him.

Ah, he thought, so the witch does consider him to be worth it.

He had never been so glad in his life before.

—

“Why do I have to travel with you too?” Fang frowned and crossed his arms.

Kaizo copied his movement and cocked his eyebrow. “You do realise you’re standing on my ship, right? Do you want to get thrown overboard?”

“Mother Nature, he threatens his own family members too,” Fang could hear the ex-pirate-slash-Kaizo’s friend muttering as the man walked behind the two of them, busy preparing for the ship to set sail that evening. Fang shook his head. “Abang, come on, Oboi has a broomstick, we can just—”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You do realise witches travelling with a broomstick is a normal thing, right?”

“Normal for a witch,” his older brother stared him down. “Are you a witch, young man?”

“That’s why I said we can just share—”

“That’s even worse, so definitely a no.”

Fang groaned but then Boboiboy appeared on his side and merely laughed, patting his shoulder in comfort. “Cheer up, Fang. At least the ship’s pretty nice.”

“Oboi, I feel like Abang has a hidden motive for travelling with us.”

“I could guess a few of them already,” the witch shrugged. “But none of them are detrimental for my witch’s pilgrimage, so I think it’s fine.” 

“Do not talk about me in front of me like I’m not standing here,” Kaizo cut off their conversation by pulling each of their cheeks in his deadly fingers.

“Ow, ow, ow, Abang Kaizo,” they both winced, “Alright, alright. We get it.”

“We’ll set sail in half an hour, so take your room below deck, separately, and then get back up here and I’ll teach you now to navigate Lily.” Kaizo finally let go of their cheeks once they nodded their heads frantically and walked away to do his own preparation.

“Evil monster,” he whispered under his breath, knowing well enough his older brother could hear that. Kaizo glared at him from over his shoulder and Fang stuck out his tongue in protest. 

“Try not to get us killed,” Boboiboy whispered from his side, rubbing his red cheeks. “We haven’t even begun our journey yet.”

“I’m already dead, so that wouldn’t matter.”

“Still not funny. Stop using that joke, really.”

“Eh, worth the try.”

“I didn’t know your sense of humour died with you too during your coming-of-age ceremony. It will be missed.”

“Hey!”

The orange witch laughed, bright and bubbly, and the only thing Fang could do then was stare.

And then huffed. 

He looks forward to the rest of the witch’s pilgrimage.

—

EXTRA:

The pirate (he supposed ex-pirate in this case since everyone on board had already either died or leaped off the ship to swim to Mother Nature knows where) scrambled backward and his back hit the ship’s railing. He stared up at the vampire from his position on the floor. In his panic, he blurted out, “You know, your sword skills are very gorgeous and deadly and all, but if you’re going to kill me today, can I please choose the way I die?”

The vampire that snuck onboard stopped twirling his sword and frowned. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me?” he wheezed. “In the head? Probably not as well as I hoped.” He was one step away from being utterly hysterical.

“That’s sad,” the vampire said calmly. “You have my condolences.”

And then he sheathed his sword.

“Huh?” he stared at the guy (well, his sword, actually, since that seemed like the most dangerous weapon the vampire had with him right now). “You— you’re not going to kill me?”

“Do you want to die?” the vampire tilted his head.

“No,” he shook his head as fast as he could. “Of course I don’t have a death wish.”

“Alright, help me man this ship then. If you’re useful enough, I’ll drop you off on the next port. If not,” the vampire grinned, his fang on full display, “you’ll be shark food.”

He shot upward on his feet and began his usual work, praying to all the deity he knew the vampire stayed merciful enough to let him run away with his soul still attached to his body when he got tired with him later on.

Which never happened and they ended up travelling the world together.

Huh.

—