Title: With No Air
Fandom: Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson
Rating: PG
Length: 500
Content notes: Past minor character death.
Author notes: Set at some point in the first book. Past Wax/Lessie, pre Wax/Wayne.
Summary: Wax mourns as Wayne hopes.



“Wax? Wax?”

“Wayne,” he sighs, briefly turning away from his contemplation of the mists to greet the man, “I’m here, no need to worry. I just... needed some air.”

“Ah,” Wayne says wisely. And, as ever, completely fails to take the hint. Only settles against the balcony pillar beside him, grins out at the night like it’s his home, “couldn’t take that much more of the toffs and their la di da airs, huh?”

It is, although he’ll never admit it out loud, one of his favourite things about the man – the eternal sense of ease, the ability to stretch out like a cat into any situation. He hides his brief smile in a cough, tilts his head back and tries to glimpse the stars glittering brightly through the mists, “something like that, I suppose.”

Wayne, uncharacteristically, remains silent for a long moment. He glances briefly sideways, and catches the man watching him with a concern that sends a brief flare of warmth right through him “...You’re thinking about Lessie again, ain’t you?”

...But no worries. It soon dies again, like a handful of embers plunged into a cold bucket of water.

“Look,” Wayne says quietly, into the silence, and reaches out – presses one hand against his arm, so heavily that he can feel the warmth of it even through his shirt, “mate, I knew Lessie. And do you know what she’d have wanted you to do?”

“Not shoot her in the head,” he says wryly, winces in the bitter aftermath of it, “I imagine.”

“No ,” Wayne pauses for a second, hand still heavy on his arm, “well, yes. But if something happened to her, something irreversible, she would’ve wanted you to live and not keep dragging yourself out for air and staring miserably into space like you want the sky to collapse. She... She would’ve wanted you to be happy, Wax.”

He stares into space for a long moment more. Takes a deep and ragged breath.

“She would’ve wanted you to see what was waiting right in front of you, Wax,” Wayne continues, in a voice so soft that it barely pushes its way through the mists, “what’ll always be waiting right in front of you, no matter how long it takes.”

Another long pause.

“...Maybe one day, Wayne,” he says slowly, and finally glances away from the mists – takes in the other man’s hopeful smile, the far too casual ruffle of his hair, “maybe one day.”

And Wayne glances at him for a gauging second, nods, smiles. Before he can get too close, too tempted, the man is already kindly turning away – glancing up to the skies like they hold all the answers, just waiting behind the mists, “the stars are pretty tonight.”

“Yes,” he says, and continues watching Wayne, “yes, they are.”