Chapter Text
There’s a night when, after Alai had sat by Ender and played Giant’s Drink, he hears whimpering from below his bunk. He’s no stranger to certain needs; his brother had sat him down and told him as much as he could before he was sent off to Battle School. But he also doubts that, at ages 6 and 7, especially for someone as collected as Ender, someone would dare to do that while sharing a room with 20 other kids.
He leans over the side and sees his friend thrashing about amidst his blankets, hands up near his head and grasping at nothing. Alai swings down with barely a sound and sits beside him.
“Ender. Ender.”
Alai only has to shake him a few times before he comes to, grabbing Alai’s arm in a vice grip as he does. “Oh.” He sags back into his pillow.
“Bad dream?”
Ender stares at the stark white bedspread and doesn’t say a word.
“Ender don’t have bad dreams.” He scoots up next to him and aligns their feet. “Pissah have bad dreams.” He slaps Ender’s leg. “Bernard has bad dreams about Ender.”
Someone hisses a “shhh!” from down the row, and they both lie down to stare at Alai’s bunk above them.
“Do you miss your family, Alai?”
“Sure,” he says. “Although sometimes it’s nice. Not having mama fuss over my hair, or baba telling me to straighten up. But, I guess now that’s Dap, huh?” Alai laughs.
Ender screws up his face in thought. “Who do you miss the most, though?”
He doesn’t answer for a while, but finally Alai says, “Ahki.”
When Ender turns his head on the pillow to face him, Alai continues. “My brother. He’s thirteen—I mean, he’s fourteen now, and he’ll be fifteen soon.” He stops, unsure if he has it in him to keep talking.
But his friend doesn’t laugh at him or ridicule him for forgetting. Ender just sighs and fills the silence with his own whispers. “I’m glad you have a brother you like. I don’t. I just miss Valentine. She’s ten now. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for her.”
“Do you miss your parents?”
“Less than I probably should.” He moves his hands off his stomach and to his sides. “Who knows; by the time I reach Command School, they’ll have successfully removed all my feelings.”
Alai flops over on his side and grabs Ender’s hand. “Nah, man. They remove your penis first.”
Ender smiles at him, actually smiles, and starts to mirror Alai. “They’ll remove it sooner if they catch us talking.”
“This beast? A bugger couldn’t do it,” Alai sneers, and they have to smother their giggles with their hands before rejoining hands and falling asleep.
The next day, the launchies return from class and Ender discovers that he’s been moved to Salamander Army. Once Alai’s said goodbye, he slinks back to his bed and tries not to think too hard about it. It was a friendly thing. Because they’re friends. It makes sense. It’s not weird at all.
He lies on his stomach and wonders when he’ll see Ender again. Probably soon—Battle School isn’t that big. But at the same time, he’s not exactly sure Ender will want to see him. Alai falls asleep early, and dreams about his ahki playing football with him, laughing at him as he trips over a rock and falls down a deep, deep well that never ends.
Sure enough, everybody knows Ender’s name by the time Ender makes the battle with Leopard Army a draw, firing against Bonzo's strict orders. Alai and Ender still eat meals together, and practice in the battle room when they know Bonzo won’t come looking, but Alai sometimes wishes they were both nobodies. He knows that soon, more people will want to be Ender’s friend, but they’ll never understand Ender like he does. The few times he knows he really does, he wants to wrap Ender up in blankets and hide him in a utility closet. And then Alai will realize that if he really understands Ender, he’ll either take it as a grand joke and insist they hide together, or avoid getting wrapped in blankets in the first place. So Alai calms himself and makes sure to clap a hand on his shoulder or nudge his knee during meals more often.
He hopes Ender won’t notice.
He does.
After a few days of particularly grueling practices, Alai slumps into the always open seat next to Ender, dropping his tray on the table. He lets out a huge sigh and leans his head on Ender’s shoulder. “I think I’m shrinking.”
Ender blinks at him and puts another spoonful of corn into his mouth. “Pardon?”
“Measured myself this morning,” Alai grumps. “Almost an inch shorter.”
“Are you talking,” Ender gestures in front of him, “height or something else?”
Alai almost spits out his juice. “Height, pissah, height!” They both snicker, quieting when the table across from them begins to stare. “You just think you’re brought to Battle School to grow, neh, and then you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.”
“Don’t want to get too tall, though,” Ender comments, pointing his fork at his friend.
“Why not?”
“Because then they might actually realize they’re training humans here, and not just the foreign species commonly known as ‘children’.” He doesn’t have to put down his utensils for air quotes; his tone of voice makes it fairly obvious.
Laughing, Alai puts his hand on Ender’s arm. “Some ‘children’ we are, studying to kill things.”
Ender looks as though he’s about to answer when his expression changes. He seems thoughtful. “Alai, has Dap been treating you well?”
He continues eating. “No more than anybody else in charge of my butt.” Swallows his forkful of mash. “Why?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, and that’s effectively the end of the conversation. It’s not an awkward silence, but the unspoken words weigh heavy as they drop into Alai’s stomach, and live there, and turn into butterflies that make him forget that he’s Ender’s best friend.