Attribute Acquired: +0.001 Mana Regeneration

"Judging by the look on your face," Lucas says as I release the light I was playing with. "You finally brought your Mana Regeneration up to 0.006."

Lucas is sitting with his back against the boulder I found him against a little less than a week ago. At the moment, he's dressed in a pair of my pants, though they're a little big on him so he's wearing one of the spare belts I brought, too. We have the same shoe size, though he's currently barefoot since we're just at the camp, and he's also shirtless – I'm not sure why, to be honest. He was wearing it when I started playing with light.

For the last five days, that's most of what I've been doing. Generating and manipulating light is much cheaper in terms of Mana cost than casting spells, even more so after I've raised [Light Manipulation] and [Light Generation] each up to Level 3.

Interestingly, I gained Experience from Leveling those Skills. That's led Lucas and me to believe that Experience from Skill Levels and Quest completions are exempt from being held. Even if it means missing out on some bonuses from Traits, I'll be okay with gaining a Level from working on spells and other Skills if needed in order to continue through this Dungeon.

Or just from gaining or Leveling Skills.

"It only took five days," I nod as I respond to his statement. "Now I'm going to-"

"Try to bring the cost of [Magic Shot] down a little more," he nods. "I know, you mentioned it. You also wanted to try to increase the strength of the spell. You mentioned that with [Magic Bolt], you'd discovered you weren't actually putting your full power into it and adding a little bit more allowed you to bring it up to Level 5, back in your preparation to come here. You said you also want to try decreasing the cost for [Magic Bolt] again, and possibly learning a barrier spell."

"Yeah."

"Before you do that," Lucas says. "You need to get some rest."

"I've been sleeping."

Lucas fixes a stare on me, those green eyes intensely telling me he knows I'm faking it. If I could rest, I would. However, I don't sleep well with other people around, and the nightmare was only five nights ago, too. I've contemplated finding my own cave to sleep in. Maybe barricade it so that Lucas can't come in.

Though I'd probably still not sleep very well.

While I've started to trust him a little, and the rational side of me says that Lucas is definitely a good person who should be trusted, the scarred side of me says 'no'. It's also really hard to ignore that, so anytime I try to think about barricading myself in another cave, thoughts of how he could break in fill my mind.

"I've been sleeping enough," I state.

"Sure," he says. "Your face is pretty expressive, Carter. It's easy to tell you're worried about me hurting you."

"I don't trust easily."

"Sometimes, a leap of faith is necessary," he says. "Why don't you try to take a nap while using me as a pillow?"

How would I use him as a pillow? Resting my head on his stomach, maybe? But that would be a massive leap of faith for me.

"No," I answer, realizing it took me longer to reject that than it should have. "That's too big of a leap of faith. How do I know you won't stab me if I fall asleep?"

"That's why it's called 'taking a leap of faith', Carter," Lucas says. "You do it not knowing what will happen. Also because if I could stab you while you're sleeping using me as a pillow, then I could do that when you're sleeping while not using me as a pillow. And we've been here for five nights."

I'm still suspicious.

"You have an ulterior motive," I state. "That must be it. What's your goal?"

Lucas groans, tilting his head back, then he sighs and looks at me.

"That shampoo you packed has made my hair pretty soft," he reaches up and touches his hair. "I kind of want to feel yours and see if it's as soft. And maybe I wanted to try touching your skin, too… but I was definitely not going to do that because it would be a bit more obvious about what I was doing and probably freak you out and cause you to punch me."

That seems quite honest.

"I wouldn't have punched you."

"Really?"

"I'd have probably stabbed you instead," I say. "And if you'd managed to remove my knives, then after I freak out for a moment, I'd probably hit you with a spell to the face."

Though maybe just [Magic Shot], to avoid leaving a scar? Enough to hurt him and maybe bruise him, something he can fully heal from. He's cute, and as long as it doesn't go further than that, I wouldn't want to hurt him too bad as punishment. I'd only want to do enough to make sure he knows not to do it again.

I can't believe I just thought 'he's cute' as an excuse for not doing something worse. Well, he's nice, too. At least, by my standards.

"It would be well-deserved," Lucas says. "So? Will you take that leap of faith?"

"No."

"Can I ask why not?"

"You can."

Lucas stares at me for a few moments.

"Carter, when someone asks that, that's them asking the question," he says. "It's considered more polite to word it that way for some things so that if the answer's 'no', the one responding can decline more politely."

My grandma probably would have taught me that, had we spent more time together.

"Oh," I say. "Because if I did that, the natural, comfortable resting position for one of your hands would be on me."

The way Lucas's eyes widen a little, he hadn't thought about that. Though it's a small thing, it makes me trust him just a tiny bit more. Only a tiny bit more, though.

Lucas does have a point, though. I really do need to sleep, especially if I'm going to be fighting something. But sleeping with someone else nearby is difficult, and I'm not sure if I could manage, even under a 'leap of faith', as he's calling it. However, maybe I should do it – for his own comfort. I mean, he's probably worried about me. As long as he's not my enemy, I'll be nice to him, but he probably doesn't realize that. If I do this, will that relax him more? I doubt that I would relax more, so I don't think there's a chance of it backfiring on me.

"Fine," I mutter before he can respond. "But I'm holding a knife the entire time."

"Got it," he looks kind of happy.

Since I'm already taking this leap of faith, I decide to remove my shirt, too, then I move over to Lucas, who's moved so that he's lying on the ground. I lie perpendicular to him from the left, resting my head on his stomach, and pull a knife from my belt, unfolding it and gripping it in my hand. Closing my eyes, I try to relax, though it's not easy.

Despite the cool ground against my back, this is surprisingly comfortable. The air is slightly chilly against my bare torso, but not uncomfortably so. I like the way it feels.

A few minutes pass, and Lucas keeps fidgeting with his arms. He's resting his hands on his chest, but judging by how often he's moving them, either he's trying not to touch me, or he's trying to get comfortable.

This is annoying. If it'll get him to still, then I'll tolerate it. I reach up and grab his left hand and pull it down, setting it on my chest. His hand is so soft, his skin so smooth. It feels nice.

I quickly release his hand, letting mine drop back down onto my stomach.

"Can I touch your hair?" He whispers.

"Fine."

Lucas reaches down with his right hand and gently touches my hair. Then he starts stroking it, and that's… actually kind of relaxing. I feel my eyes starting to droop, so I close them and try to relax. It's not easy, though, with worry over how he could hurt me filling my mind. What if he yanks on my hair? Uses the hand on my chest to grab the knife? Slits my throat? Is hiding that he's stolen one of my knives?

"When I was little," Lucas softly says. "I was scared of thunderstorms. There were more than a few times one would be going on as I was trying to sleep, or they'd start up as I was. It always terrified me and made it hard for me to sleep.

"If I came out," he continues. "Because I was scared, my dad would spank me. Mom didn't know about that at first. She had to be up early, so she usually went to bed at the same time as me, and I wasn't allowed to cry."

I wasn't allowed to cry, either. It only ever made things worse if I did, but I've since learned that they intentionally did what they could to make me cry just to punish me over it.

"I'd thought my mom was in on it," he says. "And learned to hide that I was scared. Mostly by hiding in my room during storms. Dad was the one who took me everywhere, and I'd learned that even just being scared got me a punishment from him, even while out. So she never found out that I had that phobia. I'm calling it a phobia rather than just a fear, like yours, because mine was pretty much irrational. There was no reason for me to be scared of storms, I simply was. Some people don't understand how someone can have a phobia, but it's not something that one just decides, it's often something they simply have."

Mine aren't irrational, I don't think. Not after what I went through up until two years ago. What's he trying to say? He mentioned that he acknowledges that I have actual reasons for my fears.

"When I was twelve," Lucas quietly continues. "My mom had taken me out for a shopping trip to buy stuff for Dad's birthday. I'd checked the weather, scared of punishment if a storm popped up. I'd have come up with an excuse, had I known, and things would have continued the way they were. The forecast called for sun all day."

Lucas snorts.

"We went into the store with clear skies," he tells me. "And twenty minutes later, there was a massive boom of thunder. It freaked me out, being both unexpected and part of my phobia. That was how Mom found out I was scared of storms – and that my dad had been punishing me for it. It was also how I found out she didn't know. She pulled me against her and held me tight, reassuring me that it was okay and she was there for me.

"I don't remember how it came up," he's still stroking my hair, I just realized. Should I tell him to stop? "But I told her about Dad punishing me for the phobia and how I hid it. They fought over it, and she ended up divorcing him. About a year later, she began dating this guy, Eric, and a year after that, they married."

He was abusive, too?

"Man," he chuckles. "Eric's an amazing step-dad. He knew I was gay without me or Mom telling him. When I'd brought my first boyfriend home, just to hang out, the intention was for them to think he was just someone from school that I'd decided to invite over as a friend."

Lucas chuckles for a few moments. He needs to stop, my pillow keeps shaking.

"Eric looked at Kaden," he tells me. "And then blurts out 'I didn't realize you were into the athletic type, Lucas'. Mom gave him a stunned look, not realizing that he'd figured it out about me, then she realized the implication and tried to do damage control, thinking that Kaden and I were just friends and that he didn't know I was gay.

"It was kind of funny," he says. "So Kaden and I just let it go on for a few moments, relieved my mom and real dad were fine with it. Eric's my real dad, even if not my birth dad. Anyway, once we had our fun, we told Mom that yeah, we were dating, it was fine. I kind of miss Mom and Eric. It's only been a week or so, but I hope they're safe, with everything that's going on."

"What do they do?" I ask.

"Mom's a baker," he answers. "And Eric's a martial arts instructor. He knows Brazilian jiu jitsu, karate, tae kwon do, judo, and I think a couple of others. He teaches a style that he developed based on those. Martial arts never really interested me, even with the bullies breathing down my neck. Maybe I should have taken some lessons from him."

"Did your last name get changed when your mom married Eric?"

"Yeah," he answers. "Why?"

"The kid who lived next-door to me took lessons from an Eric Nash," I answer. "He was pretty good at it. Logan's his first name."

"He's ten, right?" Lucas asks. "And mute?"

"Yeah."

"I've met the kid," he says. "He's pretty devoted to his training. I hope he's okay."

"He's a talented fighter," I state. "He and his grandma are making his way to her nephew's for shelter. I have faith that they'll make it."

"Maybe," he murmurs.

"What happened to Kaden?"

"Hm?"

"You said that he was your first boyfriend," I say. "That implies a second. Did you date several at once? Or were you like most and only did one at a time?"

"Oh," he's slowing down as he talks, sounding somewhat sleepy. "We dated for about a year, then Kaden's mom was transferred for work and he had to move. We agreed not to try a long-distance relationship, since we were only sixteen and most of those are doomed to fail. It would be better for us to separate. We still talk – or, well, we did when this whole thing happened. He's had a new boyfriend for the last year, and I've had two, neither of which lasted more than a month."

"Oh."

We're quiet for a few moments, and his stroking of my hair seems to stop at about the same time the hand on my chest relaxes, his arm shifting a little. Did he just fall asleep? Wasn't this supposed to be an attempt at helping me sleep?

Well, at least it worked for one of us.