Actually, Listen to Me.
Apr. 26th, 2017 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
weathering_itCompanion piece to Listen to Your Sister, and aftermath of a fateful visit by the Durants.
My cheeks are still hot when Tamminy comes into the tower looking like all of this is somehow her fault. I hate that, the way she wants to be responsible for every bad thing that goes wrong. I mean, of course I don't hate it, and I don't hate her, I just feel bad that she's constantly blaming herself for things that go wrong. I fall down onto my bed and try to stay mad when I see her, but it takes some conscious effort. In my mind I'm already trying to invalidate the stupid, positive shit she's about to tell me, but at the same time I know she's going to be sweet and funny about it. She makes my life way too fucking complex.
"Was that about what I think it was about?" she asks as she approaches the bed.
I lick my teeth and nod.
She hops up next to me and joins me there seated on the edge of the cot, her short legs dangling down while mine are stretched far out in front of me.
"Lawrence, listen," she says softly as she rests her palm on my mechanical hand. She knows I can't feel it, but that never makes a difference to her. "You have to stop yelling at people." Before I can interrupt she raises her voice. "Even if you're right! Yes. Even if you're right. Because then it makes you look wrong. And when it comes to your sibling's friends, looking wrong is the last thing you want."
A few seconds pass between us before she continues.
"You're going to tell him what she did, aren't you?"
My answer is immediate. "I have to. I'm not going to lie to my brother. Not even by omission. He's an adult, even if he is an idiot. He has the right to know how his friends treat him when he's not around."
Tams pulls a face and I know she disagrees. I can see the machines inside her mind grinding away. She's trying to think of a way to lighten the conversation, but it isn't coming easily. Still, I'm not ready for what she says next.
"He might be an adult, but he's still young. And... So are his friends. They're, what... Maybe just over half your age? And he's sort of... Older, but... Stuck in time. He's their age, too, when it comes right down to it. And what manner of mistakes did you make when you were in your twenties? Probably a lot? Lawrence..." She holds my hand a little tighter. I feel the gears of my hand grinding and hear them whirl as she curls my fingers around hers. "You're in your forties and you still make mistakes. I'm twice as old as you and even I make mistakes – but don't tell your mother, because she thinks I'm an infallible genius and I'm still riding that high."
I can't help but laugh, then hide the evidence in a scowl. Still, she heard it, and she's smiling, and I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She's horrible at letting me be mad. Probably her biggest flaw.
"Lawrence..." she says in a small voice. I can't help but listen, even if I try not to show it. "You can tell Harrowheart what happened tonight. And I think you should, because I think he has a right to know. But... When you tell him? Try to keep in mind that those people out there, they're young still. They still make mistakes. And you know Harrowheart says the boy is sheltered. His sister probably is too. Yelling at her for what she did... You might as well yell at a seagull for pooping on a fisherman. If they don't know any better, how can they be held responsible?"
I was with her up until the end. "They should know better!" I shout, but I don't mean to. She shakes my arm to keep me grounded and I shake my head as a silent apology. "They should know better intrinsically," I repeat quietly. "There's some things you don't need to be taught, and doing the right thing is one of them."
Tamminy's mouth shifts to the side and she's fixing with me with a look I don't quite get. "What?" I ask. "You're judging me for saying people oughta have a moral compass?"
She shakes her head and sighs through her nose. "No," she says quietly. "But you're not seeing the context, and I know you're smarter than that. I'm saying that she was probably operating by the moral compass she was taught to have. She followed the social expectation, which was to do what your mother asked her to do. In her culture, that's probably more important than going against the grain."
"And that's what's wrong with her so-called culture." It's self-evident, isn't it? The rich are bad because their culture is backwards. To turn them into good people would mean a lifetime of reprogramming. They might as well be orcs who only know how to destroy the world to inflate their own egos. I know I can leave those parts unsaid because Tamminy is a mindreader – or at the very least she's heard me have this argument with myself out loud.
"Perhaps?" she says. "But your brother doesn't think so. There'ssomething he sees in those two. Maybe he believes that under all of their 'so-called' culture there are two good souls out there having dessert with your family. ...Cinnamon rolls and a strawberry pie, by the way."
"Fuck!" I fall back on the bed with my hands on my stomach and she laughs. She lays down next to me and I start to shake my head. "I should have yelled at her after dessert."
My cheeks are still hot when Tamminy comes into the tower looking like all of this is somehow her fault. I hate that, the way she wants to be responsible for every bad thing that goes wrong. I mean, of course I don't hate it, and I don't hate her, I just feel bad that she's constantly blaming herself for things that go wrong. I fall down onto my bed and try to stay mad when I see her, but it takes some conscious effort. In my mind I'm already trying to invalidate the stupid, positive shit she's about to tell me, but at the same time I know she's going to be sweet and funny about it. She makes my life way too fucking complex.
"Was that about what I think it was about?" she asks as she approaches the bed.
I lick my teeth and nod.
She hops up next to me and joins me there seated on the edge of the cot, her short legs dangling down while mine are stretched far out in front of me.
"Lawrence, listen," she says softly as she rests her palm on my mechanical hand. She knows I can't feel it, but that never makes a difference to her. "You have to stop yelling at people." Before I can interrupt she raises her voice. "Even if you're right! Yes. Even if you're right. Because then it makes you look wrong. And when it comes to your sibling's friends, looking wrong is the last thing you want."
A few seconds pass between us before she continues.
"You're going to tell him what she did, aren't you?"
My answer is immediate. "I have to. I'm not going to lie to my brother. Not even by omission. He's an adult, even if he is an idiot. He has the right to know how his friends treat him when he's not around."
Tams pulls a face and I know she disagrees. I can see the machines inside her mind grinding away. She's trying to think of a way to lighten the conversation, but it isn't coming easily. Still, I'm not ready for what she says next.
"He might be an adult, but he's still young. And... So are his friends. They're, what... Maybe just over half your age? And he's sort of... Older, but... Stuck in time. He's their age, too, when it comes right down to it. And what manner of mistakes did you make when you were in your twenties? Probably a lot? Lawrence..." She holds my hand a little tighter. I feel the gears of my hand grinding and hear them whirl as she curls my fingers around hers. "You're in your forties and you still make mistakes. I'm twice as old as you and even I make mistakes – but don't tell your mother, because she thinks I'm an infallible genius and I'm still riding that high."
I can't help but laugh, then hide the evidence in a scowl. Still, she heard it, and she's smiling, and I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She's horrible at letting me be mad. Probably her biggest flaw.
"Lawrence..." she says in a small voice. I can't help but listen, even if I try not to show it. "You can tell Harrowheart what happened tonight. And I think you should, because I think he has a right to know. But... When you tell him? Try to keep in mind that those people out there, they're young still. They still make mistakes. And you know Harrowheart says the boy is sheltered. His sister probably is too. Yelling at her for what she did... You might as well yell at a seagull for pooping on a fisherman. If they don't know any better, how can they be held responsible?"
I was with her up until the end. "They should know better!" I shout, but I don't mean to. She shakes my arm to keep me grounded and I shake my head as a silent apology. "They should know better intrinsically," I repeat quietly. "There's some things you don't need to be taught, and doing the right thing is one of them."
Tamminy's mouth shifts to the side and she's fixing with me with a look I don't quite get. "What?" I ask. "You're judging me for saying people oughta have a moral compass?"
She shakes her head and sighs through her nose. "No," she says quietly. "But you're not seeing the context, and I know you're smarter than that. I'm saying that she was probably operating by the moral compass she was taught to have. She followed the social expectation, which was to do what your mother asked her to do. In her culture, that's probably more important than going against the grain."
"And that's what's wrong with her so-called culture." It's self-evident, isn't it? The rich are bad because their culture is backwards. To turn them into good people would mean a lifetime of reprogramming. They might as well be orcs who only know how to destroy the world to inflate their own egos. I know I can leave those parts unsaid because Tamminy is a mindreader – or at the very least she's heard me have this argument with myself out loud.
"Perhaps?" she says. "But your brother doesn't think so. There'ssomething he sees in those two. Maybe he believes that under all of their 'so-called' culture there are two good souls out there having dessert with your family. ...Cinnamon rolls and a strawberry pie, by the way."
"Fuck!" I fall back on the bed with my hands on my stomach and she laughs. She lays down next to me and I start to shake my head. "I should have yelled at her after dessert."
* *
It's hours past sundown when that unsettling gate to Acherus opens up on the property and my brother glides out trailing cold fog. Not that I'd ever tell him how unsettling it is, or how much he doesn't look like my brother at all when he's just a silhouette of sharp armor and glowing eyes. I've been playing my violin since the Durants left, partially to pass the time and partially as a fuck-you they'll never have to know about. I'm halfway through a classic when Harrowheart makes his way to the bench, but it's a short song and I'm not going to stop just because he's looming awkwardly. He's eager to find out how the meeting between his friends and his family went, and, okay, maybe it makes me an asshole, but I get a little rush out of making him wait.
He sits down and starts to undo his pauldrons while he waits for me to finish, and then it's my turn to watch him for a minute. I'll never admit it, but I'd love to try that armor on some day. He says it's made of saronite, though, some kind of metal made from the blood of an Old God. I've got enough problems without magical metal scrambling my brains, so I don't push the issue, but fuck if I wouldn't look good in that. I'd have to wear the helmet though. Nobody's scared of a balding man in glasses.
"Missed you at dinner tonight." I casually let that slip as I place my fiddle and bow on the table. "It was kind of weird meeting your friends without you."
"Weird, but...? Good?"
I always forget how strange his voice is these days. There's that tinny second voice that haunts everything he says. Even if I couldn't see him, I'd know he was dead. So fucking weird to think about. It's been years since he reintroduced himself to us and I still think it's strange. Again, that's between me, myself, and I. I wouldn't even tell Tamminy that. Wouldn't want her to slip up.
"Weird but mostly good. Twinky was quiet, no complaints there." I feel myself smiling a little as I watch him thinking. Who is Twinky?... Suddenly he laughs and reaches out to shove me, and I laugh too.
"He's not a twink, he's got a fiancée. A girl," Harrowheart says. Evidence is lacking, but I'll allow it. I can see he's slipping into worry. There's that twitch of his lips, the tilt of his eyebrows.
No sense easing him into it. "His sister's a bitch and a half."
I'm surprised to see his reaction. He's not shocked, not too curious, but mostly hurt. He leans back, eyebrows lowered, and in a quiet but deadly serious way he warns, "Don't talk about her like that." A few seconds later he concedes to reality and timidly asks, "...What did she do?"
Tamminy's voice is rattling in my head. Be generous. Be gentle. Let young people make mistakes. Let people grow and learn. Easier said than done. I'm sitting here looking at my brother's vapid, worried expression. He knows this woman is crude and cruel, and he still wants to defend her. But more than that, I can see he doesn't want to believe it. He worriedly waits to hear my story and I can tell he's already thinking up excuses and defenses. He wants his friend to be on his side no matter what. Poor, naive bastard. He might have changed his name, and he might not be what he once was, but he hasn't changed who he is. Not deep down.
"She had some shit to say about being a worgen." He's already hurt. He tries to fidget with the hidden buckles of his armor but his distraction only lasts until I speak again. "She thinks it's dishonorable. She says turning into something like that means you're not part of your family anymore. I asked her what she thinks about people who turn undead and she told me 'it's complicated.'"
He's quiet. He's not going to say anything. Part of me feels like a real prick for saying anything. This place, the Nexus, it's made him such a happy person. Happier than he ever was when he was alive. During that short quietness that passes between us I see the brother I grew up knowing. Sad Peter. I feel evil. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Or.
She shouldn't have made me tell him all of this.
"Mom insisted we use your old name."
He puts his forehead in his palm and his shoulders drop. "I knew she would," he says, resigned. "That ain't anybody's fault but mine for not bein' there." I watch him clench his hands into fists. I know how much it bothers him. Hell, if I were him I'd feel like my whole sense of self was being undermined. I know he doesn't take public embarrassment well, which makes it harder for me to think about telling him the next part. I choose not to look at him, because I know it's going to be hard to go forward with it if I see his expression.
"Isidor really liked using it. She said it with this... Smug fucking grin... I-I don't know, man. I'm not trying to be too angry here, but it pissed me off to watch. I took her aside and kind of... Blew my top over it. Told her to call you by your real name – y'know, the one you picked. She basically told me to eat shit, that she was gonna do whatever she wanted, that she's the perfect guest and I'm just Lawrence the Shithead. I didn't go back to dinner after that, but she did. If she ever used your real name you're gonna have to ask someone else."
My eyes are on my violin, but I can see the way he doesn't move at all. Fuck, I hope he's not crying. It doesn't sound like he's crying. Does he even have tears anymore? Maybe he has whatever's left, and when he runs out he doesn't have more tears to cry. Pretty fucked up. I hope he's not no-tears crying. I chance a look up at him and see that his cheeks are dry, but he's staring through the table wide-eyed like he's receiving psychic signals from the fucking worms in the ground. Except I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually have that power, and I know in my heart he's trying to stay calm.
It's weird to touch him. I've never touched anyone who feels cold. It's not even that he radiates coldness, he's just... Cold. Dead. Like a slab of meat without the blood. Still, he's my brother. I can hold his hand. He likes sappy shit like that. Usually, anyway. This time he doesn't grab me back, and he's still not moving.
I had the feeling this was going to be a hard talk, so I reach into my pocket where I'd stolen one of the cigarettes he left behind in the common area. I strike a match and light it for him and put it between his lips. He offers up no cooperation or resistance, but once he's got something to physically distract him I can tell he's relieved. He finally shifts, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it back and repeats that a few more times.
"What the fuck?" he finally croaks.
I start to nod. "I know," I whisper.
He asks me again, "What the fuck?"
This time, "I don't know. I don't know, man. I asked her why she's even your friend if she treats you like this. She told me I didn't know anything about her or your relationship, but... She didn't have an answer for me. I don't think she even knows why."
Oh, fuck.
Well.
Now I did it.
Now he's crying.
I get up out of my seat and join him on his side of the bench, but like fuck am I hugging him when his shoulderpads could take out an eye. Instead I sit by him and pretend I can't hear him as he rubs at his eyes and makes all kinds of undignified sounds. He's really trying not to embarrass himself in front of me. It's the least I can do to not bring any attention to it. Instead I'll talk about some other bullshit.
"I told Viatorus you had a crush on him." He stops in his face-rubbing for a second to try and listen, but I know exactly what thought strikes him that makes him start start snuffling and blubbering again. "I guess I was off on that one," I say and try to smile, but he's not looking at my face and the whole effort's wasted on nobody.
"Told him you wanted to take him to pound town." He stops and hiccups, but I can tell it's a laugh. Now my smile's real, and I can see he's smiling, too, even though it's hard. He looks up at me and I nod, eyebrows raised. "I also told him sex outside the missionary position exists. You better watch out, man, 'cause the next time you see him he might be down for some real kinky shit."
He shoves my shoulder and I can feel he's being mindful of his strength because it's way too light of a push for what I just said. He's laughing now and shaking his head. He wipes his cheeks one last time and says, "I don't think V'd know kinky if it bit him in the ass, but I'm gonna have to run with this next time I see him."
"You're a worgen, right? Hump his leg," I joke, and I'm happy to see it makes him laugh.
He gets back to smoking his cigarette and we sit in silence for a while longer. Both of us have a lot to think about. I'm sure his mind is on Isidor, what she said, how she acted. His mind is probably running wild with negativity. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to ask the tough question.
Nothing to it but to do it, I guess.
"Harrowheart?" He looks at me as a frown mounts on both of our faces. "Why are you her friend?..."
I'm not disheartened that he doesn't have an answer right away. I mean, if someone asked me why I like Tamminy I'd probably turn into a dumbshit and say 'Everything about her is perfect.' That can't possibly be his answer right now, but I'm sure he's working through some similar shit.
"She's smart," he says, and I nod. I wouldn't say she's not smart – I don't know either way. "I like that she... Does what she wants and... Stands up for what she believes in..."
Light, it's so hard not to say 'Except for you,' but I don't want to make him cry again. He's having a hard enough time dealing with this, so I let him continue uninterrupted.
"She's... Not nice, but..." He already hit a wall. I put my hand on his back, but he's wearing armor and there's no way he can feel it. "She's pretty, but she's not nice. She's not warm. She's obsessed with her brother and her family."
"I feel like we're getting off track here, man," I say half-heartedly, but he only presses his lips around his cigarette and shakes his head vehemently.
"No! No, Isidor's fucked up in a lotta ways," he says. "She's selfish. I mean, everything she does she does for her brother, but she does it for herself, too." Almost immediately his stony facade cracks and he admits, "She's... Not selfish... N-no... That was mean. I'm just bein' mean. I remember at Hallow's End she offered to help y'all out. Give us money. Things. Things're easy to give away when you're rich. But I've never seen her hug her brother, or... Be soft..."
Billows of smoke leave his nostrils and he's back to shaking his head. "No, that's not true either. She was soft in her own way a few times. Scared and worried and emotional and all. One time I told her somethin', and she... I could tell she feels a lot. Deep down. She just never shows it. She's like a fuckin'... Crab."
I clap my hand over my mouth. I can't laugh. Why the fuck did he call her a crab? He starts to laugh self-consciously and he taps his armored chest. "Hard on the outside and spiky and pinchy, but soft on the inside."
"Also you wanna eat her."
He chokes on his spit and shoves me – hard – and I hit the ground laughing (after my lungs are vacuumed empty by a wheeze.) I climb back onto the bench to find him looking somewhat apologetic but mostly embarrassed about being called out.
"What?" I say, my arms already up to defend me. "She's got that femdom vibe I know you're weak for." The proof is in the darkness in his cheeks. "But hotness alone doesn't make someone your friend, you know that, right? It sure as shit doesn't make someone a goodgirlfriend, if that's?..."
He rests his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table. His eyes are on the mage's tower and his thoughts are elsewhere. "It can't happen," he says distantly, the sort of tone that suggests he's going to make it happen regardless. Stupid fucking romantic sap. He's only ever been interested in people that are going to break his heart. Needy, crazy country girls... Immortal alien babes... Elf druids who want babies... Men who say one partner can never be good enough... Kind of makes me feel better about marrying a bitch who ran around on me and disavowing love evermore.
"Why not?" I ask, only because I can tell he wants to go on a tangent.
"Because!" he shouts, and I start to nod. I was right. I'm always right. Almost always. I'm right when it counts. "Because I know she and I could never have a relationship in public, but every time I see her I can't help but smile, and sometimes I don't even know why! All I know is that more than anything I wanna make her laugh and make her happy and be with her. And I wanna be able to hold her hand in public! I wanna be able to kiss her without lookin' over my shoulder to see who's watchin'! I wanna be normal for her – with her! But we can't. Her family'd throw her in a volcano or somethin'. That's what she told me they do to folks who have relationships the family don't approve of. And then there's Viatorus. What if he finds out I like his sister? He's gonna be all weird about it. I don't wanna wreck our friendship. And past all'a that, what happens when her family tries to marry her off? Do I have to fuck off forever? Do I have to meet her new husband and pretend I don't hate his guts? Do I become the other guy? I don't wanna be the other guy. I can't be the one someone cheats on their husband for, even if they were arranged-married."
Fuck, he can just keep talking without breathing. I feel my eyes glazing over, my mind fogging.
"Plus, I'm... Me. I'm fuckin' dumb. Can't read. Poor. Not a mage. Dirty worgen. Death knight. And she's... Gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Driven.Alive."
"A lesbian." He doubletakes when I say that and I shrug nonchalantly. "Total lesbian. Robin told me. Sensed her own kind. One hundred percent confirmed."
Harrowheart scoffs. "I mean, she might be half-and-half like me, but she ain't a total lesbian. I think she even likes it when I hit on her. She never stops me, and sometimes there's this adorable little smile she gets..."
"No shit? She doesn't call you a worm and tell you to fuck off to till the fields of her estate?" My thoughts need a scalp massage to coalesce here. "Okay. So. Okay. Stop talking for a minute. I need to absorb all of this. Shit's coming together. I see it in the crystal ball of my mind." He's patient as I pretend to think. Honestly I just needed a minute of not hearing about Isidor Fucking Durant and how much he likes her. It's a nice, relaxing little silence, if short-lived.
I fold my hands on the table and, shaking my head, sigh. Tams was right. Tams was right. Light, I hate her! She's always right about everything, which makes Mom right by extension. Infallible fucking genius. The stuff I didn't understand, the one-up Isidor thought she had on me, was that she probably actually likes him back. Fucked up rich girl though she may be, her unyielding crab claws clenched around a broken moral compass... There's a reason she came to dinner. There's a reason she tried to do what Mom suggested. There's a reason she tried to fight with me: because if I was right, that means she's wrong, and that means she did my brother dirty, which is probably not something she's willing to accept. Is that the soft part of the crab? I'm getting lost in this fucking crab metaphor.
"Don't take what Isidor did tonight too hard, huh? Tonight was a mistake. One big, fucked up, prolonged mistake, but... Give her a chance to admit she's wrong. Either she does or she doesn't. If she doesn't, fuck her. Not literally. The opposite of that. But if she does?... Well, I guess we'll both know why she came to dinner tonight. If she apologizes, then she wants to do right by you one way or another. I think that's enough to be a good friend. Maybe enough to be more. Nothing less complicated than that in this world."
It resonates with him, I know it does. I briefly wonder how much Isidor really does know about him that I don't. I wonder what he's thinking. How many times have they forgiven him for something? Has he ever had to forgive someone for something like this? I don't know, and I'm not sure he'll ever tell me. What I do know is that what I said is more than what he wanted to hear. It's what he needed to hear. This is the woman he has feelings for, and there's a Hell of a lot in their way, but I'll be damned if one of those things is going to be me.
It's hours past sundown when that unsettling gate to Acherus opens up on the property and my brother glides out trailing cold fog. Not that I'd ever tell him how unsettling it is, or how much he doesn't look like my brother at all when he's just a silhouette of sharp armor and glowing eyes. I've been playing my violin since the Durants left, partially to pass the time and partially as a fuck-you they'll never have to know about. I'm halfway through a classic when Harrowheart makes his way to the bench, but it's a short song and I'm not going to stop just because he's looming awkwardly. He's eager to find out how the meeting between his friends and his family went, and, okay, maybe it makes me an asshole, but I get a little rush out of making him wait.
He sits down and starts to undo his pauldrons while he waits for me to finish, and then it's my turn to watch him for a minute. I'll never admit it, but I'd love to try that armor on some day. He says it's made of saronite, though, some kind of metal made from the blood of an Old God. I've got enough problems without magical metal scrambling my brains, so I don't push the issue, but fuck if I wouldn't look good in that. I'd have to wear the helmet though. Nobody's scared of a balding man in glasses.
"Missed you at dinner tonight." I casually let that slip as I place my fiddle and bow on the table. "It was kind of weird meeting your friends without you."
"Weird, but...? Good?"
I always forget how strange his voice is these days. There's that tinny second voice that haunts everything he says. Even if I couldn't see him, I'd know he was dead. So fucking weird to think about. It's been years since he reintroduced himself to us and I still think it's strange. Again, that's between me, myself, and I. I wouldn't even tell Tamminy that. Wouldn't want her to slip up.
"Weird but mostly good. Twinky was quiet, no complaints there." I feel myself smiling a little as I watch him thinking. Who is Twinky?... Suddenly he laughs and reaches out to shove me, and I laugh too.
"He's not a twink, he's got a fiancée. A girl," Harrowheart says. Evidence is lacking, but I'll allow it. I can see he's slipping into worry. There's that twitch of his lips, the tilt of his eyebrows.
No sense easing him into it. "His sister's a bitch and a half."
I'm surprised to see his reaction. He's not shocked, not too curious, but mostly hurt. He leans back, eyebrows lowered, and in a quiet but deadly serious way he warns, "Don't talk about her like that." A few seconds later he concedes to reality and timidly asks, "...What did she do?"
Tamminy's voice is rattling in my head. Be generous. Be gentle. Let young people make mistakes. Let people grow and learn. Easier said than done. I'm sitting here looking at my brother's vapid, worried expression. He knows this woman is crude and cruel, and he still wants to defend her. But more than that, I can see he doesn't want to believe it. He worriedly waits to hear my story and I can tell he's already thinking up excuses and defenses. He wants his friend to be on his side no matter what. Poor, naive bastard. He might have changed his name, and he might not be what he once was, but he hasn't changed who he is. Not deep down.
"She had some shit to say about being a worgen." He's already hurt. He tries to fidget with the hidden buckles of his armor but his distraction only lasts until I speak again. "She thinks it's dishonorable. She says turning into something like that means you're not part of your family anymore. I asked her what she thinks about people who turn undead and she told me 'it's complicated.'"
He's quiet. He's not going to say anything. Part of me feels like a real prick for saying anything. This place, the Nexus, it's made him such a happy person. Happier than he ever was when he was alive. During that short quietness that passes between us I see the brother I grew up knowing. Sad Peter. I feel evil. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Or.
She shouldn't have made me tell him all of this.
"Mom insisted we use your old name."
He puts his forehead in his palm and his shoulders drop. "I knew she would," he says, resigned. "That ain't anybody's fault but mine for not bein' there." I watch him clench his hands into fists. I know how much it bothers him. Hell, if I were him I'd feel like my whole sense of self was being undermined. I know he doesn't take public embarrassment well, which makes it harder for me to think about telling him the next part. I choose not to look at him, because I know it's going to be hard to go forward with it if I see his expression.
"Isidor really liked using it. She said it with this... Smug fucking grin... I-I don't know, man. I'm not trying to be too angry here, but it pissed me off to watch. I took her aside and kind of... Blew my top over it. Told her to call you by your real name – y'know, the one you picked. She basically told me to eat shit, that she was gonna do whatever she wanted, that she's the perfect guest and I'm just Lawrence the Shithead. I didn't go back to dinner after that, but she did. If she ever used your real name you're gonna have to ask someone else."
My eyes are on my violin, but I can see the way he doesn't move at all. Fuck, I hope he's not crying. It doesn't sound like he's crying. Does he even have tears anymore? Maybe he has whatever's left, and when he runs out he doesn't have more tears to cry. Pretty fucked up. I hope he's not no-tears crying. I chance a look up at him and see that his cheeks are dry, but he's staring through the table wide-eyed like he's receiving psychic signals from the fucking worms in the ground. Except I'm pretty sure he doesn't actually have that power, and I know in my heart he's trying to stay calm.
It's weird to touch him. I've never touched anyone who feels cold. It's not even that he radiates coldness, he's just... Cold. Dead. Like a slab of meat without the blood. Still, he's my brother. I can hold his hand. He likes sappy shit like that. Usually, anyway. This time he doesn't grab me back, and he's still not moving.
I had the feeling this was going to be a hard talk, so I reach into my pocket where I'd stolen one of the cigarettes he left behind in the common area. I strike a match and light it for him and put it between his lips. He offers up no cooperation or resistance, but once he's got something to physically distract him I can tell he's relieved. He finally shifts, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it back and repeats that a few more times.
"What the fuck?" he finally croaks.
I start to nod. "I know," I whisper.
He asks me again, "What the fuck?"
This time, "I don't know. I don't know, man. I asked her why she's even your friend if she treats you like this. She told me I didn't know anything about her or your relationship, but... She didn't have an answer for me. I don't think she even knows why."
Oh, fuck.
Well.
Now I did it.
Now he's crying.
I get up out of my seat and join him on his side of the bench, but like fuck am I hugging him when his shoulderpads could take out an eye. Instead I sit by him and pretend I can't hear him as he rubs at his eyes and makes all kinds of undignified sounds. He's really trying not to embarrass himself in front of me. It's the least I can do to not bring any attention to it. Instead I'll talk about some other bullshit.
"I told Viatorus you had a crush on him." He stops in his face-rubbing for a second to try and listen, but I know exactly what thought strikes him that makes him start start snuffling and blubbering again. "I guess I was off on that one," I say and try to smile, but he's not looking at my face and the whole effort's wasted on nobody.
"Told him you wanted to take him to pound town." He stops and hiccups, but I can tell it's a laugh. Now my smile's real, and I can see he's smiling, too, even though it's hard. He looks up at me and I nod, eyebrows raised. "I also told him sex outside the missionary position exists. You better watch out, man, 'cause the next time you see him he might be down for some real kinky shit."
He shoves my shoulder and I can feel he's being mindful of his strength because it's way too light of a push for what I just said. He's laughing now and shaking his head. He wipes his cheeks one last time and says, "I don't think V'd know kinky if it bit him in the ass, but I'm gonna have to run with this next time I see him."
"You're a worgen, right? Hump his leg," I joke, and I'm happy to see it makes him laugh.
He gets back to smoking his cigarette and we sit in silence for a while longer. Both of us have a lot to think about. I'm sure his mind is on Isidor, what she said, how she acted. His mind is probably running wild with negativity. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to ask the tough question.
Nothing to it but to do it, I guess.
"Harrowheart?" He looks at me as a frown mounts on both of our faces. "Why are you her friend?..."
I'm not disheartened that he doesn't have an answer right away. I mean, if someone asked me why I like Tamminy I'd probably turn into a dumbshit and say 'Everything about her is perfect.' That can't possibly be his answer right now, but I'm sure he's working through some similar shit.
"She's smart," he says, and I nod. I wouldn't say she's not smart – I don't know either way. "I like that she... Does what she wants and... Stands up for what she believes in..."
Light, it's so hard not to say 'Except for you,' but I don't want to make him cry again. He's having a hard enough time dealing with this, so I let him continue uninterrupted.
"She's... Not nice, but..." He already hit a wall. I put my hand on his back, but he's wearing armor and there's no way he can feel it. "She's pretty, but she's not nice. She's not warm. She's obsessed with her brother and her family."
"I feel like we're getting off track here, man," I say half-heartedly, but he only presses his lips around his cigarette and shakes his head vehemently.
"No! No, Isidor's fucked up in a lotta ways," he says. "She's selfish. I mean, everything she does she does for her brother, but she does it for herself, too." Almost immediately his stony facade cracks and he admits, "She's... Not selfish... N-no... That was mean. I'm just bein' mean. I remember at Hallow's End she offered to help y'all out. Give us money. Things. Things're easy to give away when you're rich. But I've never seen her hug her brother, or... Be soft..."
Billows of smoke leave his nostrils and he's back to shaking his head. "No, that's not true either. She was soft in her own way a few times. Scared and worried and emotional and all. One time I told her somethin', and she... I could tell she feels a lot. Deep down. She just never shows it. She's like a fuckin'... Crab."
I clap my hand over my mouth. I can't laugh. Why the fuck did he call her a crab? He starts to laugh self-consciously and he taps his armored chest. "Hard on the outside and spiky and pinchy, but soft on the inside."
"Also you wanna eat her."
He chokes on his spit and shoves me – hard – and I hit the ground laughing (after my lungs are vacuumed empty by a wheeze.) I climb back onto the bench to find him looking somewhat apologetic but mostly embarrassed about being called out.
"What?" I say, my arms already up to defend me. "She's got that femdom vibe I know you're weak for." The proof is in the darkness in his cheeks. "But hotness alone doesn't make someone your friend, you know that, right? It sure as shit doesn't make someone a goodgirlfriend, if that's?..."
He rests his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table. His eyes are on the mage's tower and his thoughts are elsewhere. "It can't happen," he says distantly, the sort of tone that suggests he's going to make it happen regardless. Stupid fucking romantic sap. He's only ever been interested in people that are going to break his heart. Needy, crazy country girls... Immortal alien babes... Elf druids who want babies... Men who say one partner can never be good enough... Kind of makes me feel better about marrying a bitch who ran around on me and disavowing love evermore.
"Why not?" I ask, only because I can tell he wants to go on a tangent.
"Because!" he shouts, and I start to nod. I was right. I'm always right. Almost always. I'm right when it counts. "Because I know she and I could never have a relationship in public, but every time I see her I can't help but smile, and sometimes I don't even know why! All I know is that more than anything I wanna make her laugh and make her happy and be with her. And I wanna be able to hold her hand in public! I wanna be able to kiss her without lookin' over my shoulder to see who's watchin'! I wanna be normal for her – with her! But we can't. Her family'd throw her in a volcano or somethin'. That's what she told me they do to folks who have relationships the family don't approve of. And then there's Viatorus. What if he finds out I like his sister? He's gonna be all weird about it. I don't wanna wreck our friendship. And past all'a that, what happens when her family tries to marry her off? Do I have to fuck off forever? Do I have to meet her new husband and pretend I don't hate his guts? Do I become the other guy? I don't wanna be the other guy. I can't be the one someone cheats on their husband for, even if they were arranged-married."
Fuck, he can just keep talking without breathing. I feel my eyes glazing over, my mind fogging.
"Plus, I'm... Me. I'm fuckin' dumb. Can't read. Poor. Not a mage. Dirty worgen. Death knight. And she's... Gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Driven.Alive."
"A lesbian." He doubletakes when I say that and I shrug nonchalantly. "Total lesbian. Robin told me. Sensed her own kind. One hundred percent confirmed."
Harrowheart scoffs. "I mean, she might be half-and-half like me, but she ain't a total lesbian. I think she even likes it when I hit on her. She never stops me, and sometimes there's this adorable little smile she gets..."
"No shit? She doesn't call you a worm and tell you to fuck off to till the fields of her estate?" My thoughts need a scalp massage to coalesce here. "Okay. So. Okay. Stop talking for a minute. I need to absorb all of this. Shit's coming together. I see it in the crystal ball of my mind." He's patient as I pretend to think. Honestly I just needed a minute of not hearing about Isidor Fucking Durant and how much he likes her. It's a nice, relaxing little silence, if short-lived.
I fold my hands on the table and, shaking my head, sigh. Tams was right. Tams was right. Light, I hate her! She's always right about everything, which makes Mom right by extension. Infallible fucking genius. The stuff I didn't understand, the one-up Isidor thought she had on me, was that she probably actually likes him back. Fucked up rich girl though she may be, her unyielding crab claws clenched around a broken moral compass... There's a reason she came to dinner. There's a reason she tried to do what Mom suggested. There's a reason she tried to fight with me: because if I was right, that means she's wrong, and that means she did my brother dirty, which is probably not something she's willing to accept. Is that the soft part of the crab? I'm getting lost in this fucking crab metaphor.
"Don't take what Isidor did tonight too hard, huh? Tonight was a mistake. One big, fucked up, prolonged mistake, but... Give her a chance to admit she's wrong. Either she does or she doesn't. If she doesn't, fuck her. Not literally. The opposite of that. But if she does?... Well, I guess we'll both know why she came to dinner tonight. If she apologizes, then she wants to do right by you one way or another. I think that's enough to be a good friend. Maybe enough to be more. Nothing less complicated than that in this world."
It resonates with him, I know it does. I briefly wonder how much Isidor really does know about him that I don't. I wonder what he's thinking. How many times have they forgiven him for something? Has he ever had to forgive someone for something like this? I don't know, and I'm not sure he'll ever tell me. What I do know is that what I said is more than what he wanted to hear. It's what he needed to hear. This is the woman he has feelings for, and there's a Hell of a lot in their way, but I'll be damned if one of those things is going to be me.
