Most nights these days, Richard went out with Ignacio. When the sun was down for long enough and the sky was dark enough and the stars not bright enough, Richard went out with Ignacio. Or, rather, Basiluzzo went out with Encke. That was an important distinction, Richard supposed, as he lay back on their bed.

Encke had gone out alone, tonight.

Not that there wasn’t an element of their normal interaction when they went out on patrol, but there was certainly also something very… different, also. Encke was more serious than Ignacio, even though Ignacio had gotten actually very serious. Serious enough that it hurt, sometimes. Serious enough that it reminded Richard more of where Ignacio used to be.

That was not a place Richard ever wanted Ignacio to return to.

It was dark there.

Terrifying.

Lonely.

There was a part of Richard that was glad he was Basiluzzo if only so Encke didn’t have to be alone out there with the monsters. Knowing not all of the monsters were the ones that Chaos sent to them. It wasn’t a place anyone should have to be in the first place, much less return to.

But he wasn’t an idiot, and he did not miss the way Encke’s brows knit together, or that particular set of his mouth. He had asked about it a couple of times, only for Encke to play it off. He had believed him the first time, that everything was okay and it had just been a hard night.

He did not believe Encke the second time.

He didn’t ask Encke about it until many times after, however, trying to craft what he’d say, how he’d persist and insist that no, he knew what he’d seen, that no, he wasn’t just imagining it, Encke, what’s wrong?

Basiluzzo was what was wrong.

No, not him himself. Richard knew that. And he supposed, in that sense, it wasn’t anything personal. But, then again, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t an idiot.

He knew what Encke, what Ignacio, was afraid of. He knew that there was a fear that Basiluzzo, that Richard, would end up like so many other people apparently had. A thousand tragedies to be relived over and over and over and--

It wasn’t that he couldn’t appreciate the danger. It wasn’t that Richard himself was reckless. He had never really been that type. Stubborn, yes. Confident, sure. Reckless? Never. But he supposed there was a line between the first two and the third that could blur, could smear and be obscured. Would Richard know when to stop? Would he know when something was too much for him?

Or would Encke always have to watch Basiluzzo like a hawk, putting more care into watching out for him than himself? Would Basiluzzo always have that nagging fear in the back of his mind that Encke was going to get killed, and it was going to be all his fault? That Encke was going to get killed doing something foolish, something stupid, something so unbelievable Encke?

Was Encke going to get killed one day and never make it home?

...Was it going to be because he was protecting Basiluzzo?

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