Chapter Text
[ December 12, 2017. Neverwinter, Washington. ]
“Good morning, Lucy!” Kravitz called, walking into the library.
“Kravitz, please do not call me ‘Lucy’,” the woman in question replied, approaching him from the front desk. She was smiling, her white teeth and platinum hair providing a beautiful and shocking contrast against her smooth, dark skin. “How are you?”
“I’m doing alright.” Kravitz shook some snowflakes out of his long locs. “It’s supposed to snow more today; not looking forward to driving home in that weather.”
“I know.” She smiled wryly. “At least the library won’t be too busy today. Who’s going to want to travel here in this weather?”
“Crazy people.” Kravitz shook his head and hung up his black wool coat. “Did we get our new shipment last night?”
“Yes; right on time, too. I’ll have plenty of time to shelve them all today.”
Kravitz walked into the back room. “Do you want some tea, Lucretia?” he called as he set up the Keurig.
“No, thank you, I had some coffee from the Star-Blaster this morning. Dav’s first brew of the day is always the best.”
Kravitz smiled. “What possessed him to name a coffee shop the Star-Blaster?”
“I don’t know; I don’t think it was his idea.” He could hear her rolling her eyes. “A bet or something.”
Kravitz grinned. The Keurig spat out his tea (Earl Grey) and he grabbed the mug, doctoring it up the way he liked it (black, one sugar) and heading out to the front desk, snagging a book from the shelf along the way.
The library was quiet for a while, the only sounds coming from Lucretia’s shelving endeavors and the turning pages of Kravitz’s book.
Eventually, peering out the tall window of the library, Kravitz commented, “Snow’s really coming down out there.”
“I see,” Lucretia said, approaching the front of the building in order to see better. She craned her neck to see what Kravitz was reading. “ Murder on the Orient Express ?” she asked. “Interesting. I didn’t think that was your style.”
“Well,” Kravitz stammered, embarrassed to have been found out and searching desperately for an excuse, “the movie’s coming out soon, and--”
“Nothing like a good murder mystery,” Lucretia smiled, her eyes crinkling knowingly.
Kravitz sighed, took another sip of his tea and turned back to his novel. “Yeah,” he said. “Nothing like.”
The door opened.
This was decidedly unusual because nobody had walked in all day. It was snowing too hard for that.
The figure who walked in was tiny, snow covered, and bespectacled. After shaking off the snow, it was revealed to be a little boy, who trotted up to his desk and said in a clear voice, “Excuse me, sir, could you direct me to the mystery section of the library?”
Kravitz smiled. “Of course. We just got the latest installment of the Caleb Cleveland series in. I would highly recommend it if you haven’t read it.”
“Oh, I’ve read the series, sir, but not the latest one.”
“Well, then, let me find it for you.” Kravitz flashes the child another friendly smile before getting up and leading the boy to the children’s section. “Here it is,” he said, pulling the book from the shelf and handing it to the kid. “Do you want to check it out now?”
“No, my dad has my library card. He’ll come pick me up in an hour.”
“Alright. There are some chairs down here where you can read until he gets here.”
“Thank you, sir!” The boy beamed at him and flopped down happily in a cushioned chair to read.
Kravitz grinned and went back to his desk. Kids who had a passion for reading were hard to come by these days, so whenever he found one he made sure to treat them with as much respect as possible. Picking up his novel, he continued his own read.
An hour passed. The library was quiet. The greyish light from the snow-shedding clouds dimmed the atmosphere to something sleepy and soft.
And then the door burst open and in walked someone tall, skinny, and coated in snow. “Fuck!” they exclaimed. “It’s coming down like fuckin’ hell out there!”
“Shh,” Kravitz said calmly.
The person stopped. “Hachi machi,” they said, brushing snow off of their person. “Look at you, handsome.”
Kravitz flushed. As they shook off the snow, he saw that this person was masculine, but only just. He had long bleached-blonde hair and golden-brown skin dappled with freckles, his eyes were leaf-green, hooded by blue-dusted lids and framed by long, dark lashes, his clothing was eccentric and bold, and, as he grinned a red-lipped grin at Kravitz, he noticed a gap between his front teeth. “Can I help you?” Kravitz said.
“Fuckin’ yeah,” the person said. “I'm here to get my boy.”
“Small? Well-spoken? Big glasses?” Kravitz asked, peering over his own frames to look at the person who had just broken the peaceful atmosphere of his library.
“Yep, yep, and yep,” they replied.
“You must be his father, then. To the right, down the stairs. You’ll find him in one of the chairs. He’s been reading the latest installment of the Caleb Cleveland series.”
“Thanks, m’dude.” And he disappeared down the stairs.
Lucretia popped out from a back room. “Who was that?” she asked.
“He’s the boy’s dad.” Kravitz rolled his eyes. “I hope that child hasn’t picked up any of his language.”
Lucretia laughed. “With the way that guy swears? That kid must have a dictionary of creative curse words.”
The man reappeared then, followed by the little boy, who clutched his book happily. “Put it up on the desk, Ango,” he said, patting the surface expectantly.
Being rather small, the boy had to stand on his toes to slide the book onto the desk so Kravitz could check it out.
“I’m going to need your library card, too,” he said.
“Oh, right, shit.” The tall man patted his pockets and eventually pulled out the piece of plastic, sliding it across the desk to Kravitz. “There you are, pretty boy.”
Kravitz spluttered a little before regaining control and saying, “Th-Thanks.” He scanned the card, then the book, printed out a small receipt, stuck the paper inside the front cover, and handed it to the boy. “There you are,” he said with a smile. “It’s due in two weeks.”
“That’s right before Candlenights!” the little boy said to his father.
“Yes, yes, motek.” The term, though unfamiliar to Kravitz, sounded more tender than he would expect from this man. He looked back at Kravitz and said, “Anyway, we’ve gotta scoot, so thanks,” his eyes flicked down to the name tag on his desk, “Krrrrrrrrravitz,” he finished, adding a wink at the end that made Kravitz blush all over again. “Ta!” He waved and, pulling the little boy with him, left the library.
Lucretia popped her head out from behind a shelf again. “Oh my god,” she said. “Was he--?”
“Yeah.”
“And you--?”
“Shut up.”
Cheeks and neck hot, Kravitz slumped in his seat and half-heartedly sank back into the world of the Orient Express.
“Dad,” Angus said conversationally as they traipsed through the snowy suburb, “did you like that man at the library?”
“Psh,” Taako replied, waving a hand. “As if. I was just doing that to fluster him. He seemed pretty easily flustered. All in good fun, pumpkin.”
Angus raised an eyebrow.
Taako rolled his eyes. “You gotta stop being so perceptive,” he sighed. “Yes, okay? I liked him. I liked him a lot. But, I mean, with a face like that--”
“He’s single.”
“Of course he--what?”
“He’s single. He read the entire hour I was there. If he was taken, he would have pulled out his phone at least once to text his partner.”
Taako smiled. “I take back what I said about being perceptive,” he laughed. “Can you tell me if he’s gay?”
“As anything,” Angus replied, grinning. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”
“Nah,” Taako shook his head. “Was it cute?”
Angus nodded. “Very. It was all--” He mimicked the expression by batting his huge eyes and pasting an awestruck expression to his round face. “Like that.”
Taako laughed. “You’re somethin’ else, bubala. C’mon, we’re almost home. Pick up the pace and I can make you some cocoa before dinner.”
“Yes, please!” Angus cheered, and walked fast enough that Taako had to take longer steps to keep up--thankfully his legs were long enough for the task.
When they burst through the back door of Merle’s house, they gasped in relief at the sudden warmth. “Dad, we’re ba--” Taako stopped, listened for a second. “Shit,” he breathed. “Hecuba called.”
Angus winced. He knew what those phone calls were like.
The shouting carried from the front room of Merle’s half of the house right to the kitchen. Angus looked a little wild around the eyes as he heard snippets of the conversation. Taako tried to keep his little boy safe from the things that scared him, but Merle’s ex-wife brought out the worst in him, and drew out bad memories in Angus.
“Come on, boychik,” Taako said quietly, ruffling Angus’s hair and lifting him up to sit on the countertop. “Let’s get some cocoa in you.”
Angus clapped his little hands, an endearing quirk of his that he exhibited when he was excited. When he first started living with Taako, he wouldn’t display any of his little quirks, or ‘stims’, as the therapists called them. They told Taako that he didn’t feel comfortable stimming because his parents discouraged it. Taako hated Angus’s parents.
Taako put on some milk to heat, and then leaned over and turned on the radio. It was an Adele song, one of her better ones, and Taako turned it up, flashing a grin at Angus. It was harder to hear Merle with the music on.
Humming along with the melody, Taako stuck a bowl full of Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate into the microwave and heated it until it was melted. “It’s Taako’s Special Cocoa tonight,” Taako said, pouring the thick chocolate into the milk. “You down?”
“Hell yeah!” Angus said happily, clapping his hands again.
“Now, now,” Taako said, laughing. “No potty words till you turn sixteen, remember?”
“Sorry.” Angus looked like he was about to cringe back for a moment before relaxing into a comfortable posture.
“It’s fine, pumpkin, I’m not mad.” Taako winked. “I just don’t want people to think I’m a completely bad influence on you.”
“You’re not,” Angus insisted. “I tell you this all the time.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I still don’t know why,” Taako said, shrugging as he stirred the cocoa. Grabbing a spoon, he dipped it in the mixture and tasted it. “Mmm. Needs something.”
“Dad, you’re avoiding things again.”
“‘S my talent,” Taako muttered. He added some sugar and a dash of vanilla, stirred it in, and tasted it again. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Good shit.”
Angus giggled. “How was work today?”
“Busy. Magnus is getting too popular. You know how many phone calls I had to answer today?”
“No, how many?”
“Sixty-seven!” Taako exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Sixty-seven phone calls. It’s a wonder my ears didn’t fall off.”
Merle’s shouting reached a crescendo and Taako, wincing, turned up the radio to mask the noise. “Dad, it’s too loud,” Angus complained, and Taako, whispering apologies, turned it back down, even though all it did was bring greater attention to the screaming match at the front of the house. Angus shifted. He shifted again. He covered his ears. Closed his eyes. Hummed a little tune. Kicked his feet.
Angus whimpered a little bit and sniffled, kicking his feet anxiously and wriggling his entire body in discomfort.
“Sorry, pumpkin,” Taako said, hovering around his son worriedly, hot chocolate nearly forgotten. “Sorry, sorry. I wish his shithead of an ex hadn’t called today. Do you need to go outside?”
Angus didn’t reply, and Taako huffed. He took the hot chocolate off of the heat and, striding out of the kitchen, he walked right up to his adoptive father and screeched, “Get off the fuckin’ phone! You’re upsetting my boy!”
Merle looked at Taako and seemed to sense his worry so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, said, “Fuck you and happy Candlenights,” and hung up. Sheepishly, he turned to face Taako. “Sorry about that. Tell your boy I said.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Taako rolled his eyes, but was smiling when he entered the kitchen. “Hey, motek,” he said softly, carefully touching Angus’s curls. “It’s ok, it’s better now.”
Angus sniffled again before turning and throwing his arms around his father. Taako felt a dampness on his shirt and moved his hands down to rub circles on Angus’s little back. “Shh, hey now,” he murmured, “I’ve fixed things. You’re okay now. Do you want to go read your book for a bit?”
He nodded a little.
“Okay. You go do that, and I’ll bring up your hot cocoa when you’re ready, hm?”
“Yeah. Okay.” Angus leaned back and nodded again. He wiped his face with the back of a small hand and slid off the counter, grabbing his book from the island before going shakily up the stairs to his room.
“Oy vey,” Taako sighed, and put the cocoa back on the heat, grabbing his spoon and going back to stirring.
Kravitz sat at his baby grand, moving with the phrases of Chopin. The graceful music reflected in the swaying of his body, he played with a passion and a love that he rarely displayed. The snow fell thick and heavy outside, coating the whole town in a thick white blanket that would be hell to navigate in the morning but for now, in the purple-grey evening light, was peaceful and perfect.
Gone from his mind were the troubles of the day. Gone was the stress of work, of maintaining some semblance of a social life (which mostly just consisted of Lucretia and Davenport, the little salt-and-pepper-haired man with a mustache he was incredibly fond of who owned the coffee shop right beside the library), of that beautiful man and his golden child from the library. Gone was the guilt of not having called his mother in almost two weeks. All there was here, in this place, was Kravitz, his window, and the sweet nocturnes of the greatest composer.
His passion swelled with the dynamics of the music. His posture straightened, hunched, straightened again. Left, right, left again he swayed. His hands moved with grace and ease across the polished ivory keys. He let the piano sing for him, its voice the sweetest thing.
Everything in this moment was perfect.
Once, a couple of years ago, Kravitz had played for a bar here in town. It was called “The Hangar”. A seedy little place, it didn’t have the right atmosphere for any of the classics, so he tried something ragtime. And it was the worst performance he’d ever put on. His passion wasn’t there, wasn’t in it. He couldn’t keep the energy up, and he ended the piece disappointed and embarrassed.
He hadn’t played in public since, and everyone had quickly forgotten that the reclusive librarian even knew how to read music.
Now, however, Chopin sang forth from his fingers, from the hammers on the strings, from every pore in his body. It rolled forth with grace and ease, not mechanical like something practiced, but with a fluidity that only came with years of constant playing and memorization.
His fingers danced to the end and, just as he played the last chord, his phone rang.
Startled, his hands slammed down into a dissonant cluster and he swore quietly--there went the mood. “Hello?” he said irritably as he answered.
“Hello, my dear and darling son.”
“M-mother. How are you?”
“I’d be better if you called once in a blue moon.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy as of late.” Not a complete lie, but he could have called his mother instead of playing the piano, or finishing the Orient Express .
“I understand. I hope you know that I only insist you call because I miss you. You’re three states away from me!”
“Washington is very nice,” Kravitz said, glancing out the window. “Especially here in Neverwinter.”
“Does it live up to the name?”
“We’re expecting six to twelve inches of snow tonight. We got four yesterday.”
The woman laughed, and Kravitz smiled at the warm, familiar sound. How did he always forget how much he missed her laugh?
“Will you be coming home for Candlenights this year, darling?” she asked.
He thought about it. “Yes,” he finally answered. “I think I will.”
The next morning, Taako was awakened by his phone ringing. “Hello?” he answered groggily.
“Hello, this is the Neverwinter School District Superintendent calling to inform you…” The automated message ran through its spiel while Taako half-listened.
“Snow day for Ango,” he mumbled, and then rolled himself back up in his blankets, falling back to sleep.
He was awakened about an hour later by something jumping on him. “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” he screeched, rolling over as the thing bounced on him.
“It’s a snow day, Dad! It’s a snow day!”
Taako sighed. “Yes, I know, pumpkin, you had one yesterday, too. You don’t think they’re gonna send you to school when the roads are buried, do you?”
Angus grinned. “I know, I’m just excited!”
Yawning, Taako sat up. “Okay, kiddo,” he said sleepily. “I’m gonna go make some pancakes and you’re gonna get Netflix set up. It’s gonna be a Cosmos morning, how’s that sound?”
“Yes, yes!” Angus cheered, clapping his hands. “I love Mr. Tyson!”
“Alright, pumpkin. Shoo, I’m gonna go wake up the dads.”
“Awww, I wanna do it!”
“And face the wrath of the Davenport? No way, my boy is not dying on a snow day.”
“Come on, I’ve done it before! I’ll be fine!”
“He nearly launched you clear across the room last time. Not on my watch.”
“Can I at least watch you do it? It’s always funny when you do it.”
Taako shook his head fondly at Angus. “Alright, fine. But only because you used the Bambi eyes on me and I’m feeling nice this morning.”
Taako slid out of bed and threw on a huge hoodie, twisting his hair into a messy bun that he’d brush out and redo at a later time. “Okay, let’s go. Mission: Impossible style,” he said in a dramatically hushed voice.
Together, they crept to the room that Merle and Davenport shared, and Taako threw a huge wink at Angus before slamming the door open with a crash and shouting, “Wake the fuck up, gents! Taako’s making pancakes!”
One of the men sat bolt upright in bed, his mustache frazzled and his greying hair sticking up on one side. “Taako what the hell? ” he yelped. He clutched the blankets tightly around his middle.
Beside him a grey-haired lump stirred and became a cranky old man with a prosthetic arm and an empty eye socket (“Mementos from the war,” he always said, but nobody really knew which war or what happened) who sat up much more slowly. He didn’t pull up the sheets.
Taako put a hand over Angus’s eyes. “Gross!” he shrieked. “You guys weren’t doing the do last night? Oh my god, I feel dirty! Oh my god. Oh my god. ”
“Taako, we’re married, ” Davenport sighed. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know, but I don’t wanna think about it, ” Taako whined. “You’re my dads. ”
Merle blinked sleepily and leaned heavily against Davenport. “How’re you speakin’ so… so…?” he mumbled.
“Coherently? It’s because I’m a morning person. Merle, we have been married for five years. You know this.”
“Fuck you.”
Davenport laughed and Taako sighed, eyes glued to the ceiling.
“Please, guys, for the love of god, put some pants on. Pancakes’ll be ready in thirty.” Hand still firmly over Angus’s eyes, Taako backed out of the room and shut the door.
“Oh my god,” he said again.
“Dad?” Angus said.
“Mmh?”
“You’re using the ‘I’ve just been scarred’ voice again.”
“The things I’ve seen…”
[ October 1, 2015. Neverwinter, Washington. ]
Taako stood on the plant-covered front porch of his father’s house, bouncing anxiously from one foot to the other. He wondered vaguely if this was how Merle felt nine years ago.
The blue car drove up to the curb and stopped, and Taako’s heart lurched with anxiety. Out stepped a little boy--his favorite little boy.
He’d visited this boy several times, and they hung out and Taako chatted with him about space and science. The kid was really smart for eight years old and could understand what Taako said to him.
He was a little skittish, of course--Taako learned quickly that sudden shouting or loud noises spooked the boy into tears--but for the most part he was just an abnormally smart little kid.
“Heyyy, Ango,” Taako said, grinning at the boy as he walked towards the porch steps. A woman trailed a little behind the child, smiling encouragingly at the pair. “How are you today, champ?”
“I’m good, sir.” Angus beamed at Taako. “I’m very--I’m really excited, Taako, sir.”
“That’s good. That’s great. I’m excited too, you know?” Taako grinned. “Do you want to see your room? I spent forever setting it up.”
“Ah--Mr Highchurch,” the woman interrupted. “Can we speak for a moment?”
“Absolutely,” Taako said. Turning to Angus he added, “Just wait on the porch here for a sec, okay, pumpkin?” before descending to talk to the agent.
“You have all the paperwork now,” she said, handing him a file folder. “It’s official. Don’t forget--”
“Therapist visits every Thursday. Make sure he eats well and gets plenty of sleep. Call you if I need anything. I got this. Natch.” Taako finger-gunned at her. “No problemo.”
She laughed gently. “Thank you so much, Mr Highchurch,” she said. “I don’t think you understand how much this means to me, and to little Angus here.”
“Oh, I get it perfectly,” Taako smiled. “Used to be where he was, but I think he had it a little better than me in the system before I met him. Anyway--Mr Highchurch is my dad. Call me Taako!”
She laughed again. “Okay, Taako. Call me if you need something. And congratulations again.”
“Thanks, Pamela,” Taako said good-naturedly. “Ta, now.”
“Good-bye!” She slid into her little blue car and drove away, waving to Angus and Taako, who waved back.
“So, uh, how about I show you your room and then we drink some hot cocoa and watch some Netflix?” Taako said.
“That sounds--that sounds great, sir.”
“It’s ‘Dad’, Ango. Please.”
“Okay, then. It sounds great… Dad.”
[ December 13th, 2017. Neverwinter, Washington. ]
Taako sighed. He closed the tab for his online classes.
Taking culinary classes online was hard work, but it wasn’t like he had the time during the day. He had a boy to raise.
Opening a new tab, he searched his last name in the Google search bar and began scrolling through the results.
He knew he wasn’t going to find anything. He didn’t remember the last name of the family who had adopted her, and it’s not like she had decided at nine years old what her name would be for the rest of her life. She had been hovering between four or five names when they were separated.
Of course, Taako would have supported whichever name she chose, but it’s not like he could have helped her out. She left him alone in the system and now she was God knows where.
Sighing, he closed the tab. Another fruitless search.
He decided to check the news before going to bed. He typed in the url for his favorite news site and hit enter, hoping to get a few chuckles out of a politically-skewed article. Instead, when he saw the top article, Taako screamed.
Angus found him curled on the floor, sobbing, in front of his laptop, where a headline was displayed on the screen:
MARRIED SCIENTISTS FOUND DEAD! MURDERER AT LARGE!
On the screen was an image of a smiling couple. The woman looked just like Taako.