Rain falls mercilessly, drawing filthy rivers that slither through the cracks of a broken ground.
The air hums with electric tension as they arrive at the dimensional breach.
Before them, reality itself appears torn open—as though an enormous, invisible claw has raked through existence, exposing a swirling vortex of shadows, flickering lights, and fleeting glimpses of worlds Dave doesn't recognize. The portal is unstable. Its edges twitch like a wound refusing to close, emitting a low hum that seems to vibrate inside his bones.
Dave knows this is it—his last chance, his only chance to return. He frowns.
"Doesn't look like the safest route," he mutters, crossing his arms.
Beside him, Heinz observes the breach with the same unsettling calm he always wears like a second skin. His black hair falls across his green eyes, but Dave can feel the intensity radiating off him like heat.
"It's not," Heinz replies, voice low, almost absorbed by the chaos around them. "But it doesn't need to be safe, Dave. It just needs to hold… for a few minutes."
Dave glances at him sideways, noticing the way Heinz's pale fingers begin to move in a familiar pattern—like he's tracing invisible runes into the air.
"You planning to hold that thing open by yourself?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow, though he already knows the answer.
Heinz gives a faint smile, one of those ironic ones that always sits somewhere between challenge and resignation.
"Don't you trust me?"
"On the contrary," Dave smirks, his trademark arrogance slipping effortlessly into place. "I'm just worried you'll overdo it and faint in my arms. Not sure I'm built to carry all that dead weight, twig."
"If it comes to that…" Heinz closes his eyes, focusing now, a soft purple glow beginning to pulse from his skin, "...just go through the portal. I'll be fine."
Dave lets out a short laugh, but it fades as he watches Heinz's hands move with hypnotic precision.
The energy in the air shifts.
The hum deepens as Heinz extends his arms toward the portal, murmuring words Dave doesn't recognize—but somehow understands they're speaking directly to the breach itself. A dark halo begins to form around Heinz, like he's drawing in the instability and bending it to his will.
"Well then," Dave mutters, watching intently. "That's new."
Heinz cracks one eye open, and it gleams with something otherworldly.
"Everything's under control," he whispers—though Dave catches the tension in his clenched jaw. "For now."
The breach shudders violently, as if resisting him. But Heinz's hands do not falter. With movements both precise and strangely delicate, he guides the energy around the rift, weaving a thin, shimmering barrier that begins to stabilize the fluctuating edges.
A chill runs down Dave's spine.
Not from fear, but from something deeper.
Something in the way Heinz—so seemingly fragile—can tame such chaotic force with sheer presence alone keeps him rooted in place, transfixed.
"Don't take too long," Heinz murmurs, not looking at him, his voice now a touch lower, a shade heavier. "I don't know how long I can keep it steady."
Dave smiles, but there's a flicker of softness in his gaze as he notices the beads of sweat collecting on Heinz's brow.
"Easy, poet."
And with one last look at Heinz, Dave steps forward, feeling the portal's raw energy wrap around him, while Heinz, silent but unwavering, holds the weight of both worlds in his hands.
The electric hum reverberates through Dave's chest as he stops at the edge of the dimensional rift—his only way home.
And he looks back.
He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. He shouldn't care this much. He knows that. But there it is—that uncomfortable tightness in his chest, that sharp sting of something he doesn't want to name. Nostalgia, maybe. Or something worse.
Beside the portal, Heinz stands silent. His black hair, drenched, clings to his pale face. His posture is rigid, but his hands—clenched tightly around his watch—betray the strain. Water runs along his sharp jaw and drips from the tip of his nose. He looks like he's been carved from marble: beautiful, distant… and about to break.
Dave swallows hard.
Goodbyes have never been his thing.
"Well…" he begins, forcing a smile, "Here we are."
"Here we are," Heinz echoes, still not looking at him.
His voice is low and worn thin, like each word costs more than he can afford.