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Teagan wakes to bright light casting warmth over his body, the sun already high in the sky. He stretches, luxuriating briefly in the special kind of soreness that comes with the morning after a very good night - though he frowns when he realizes the cause of his good night has already left the bed. He’d hoped for a repeat performance this morning, but he supposes it had been sweet of Saxxon to let him rest if he had somewhere to be.
Still, he doesn’t have anywhere to be, so he takes his time getting ready. He can’t help a happy lightness to every step, every movement - Saxxon had been so himself last night, in a way Teagan had despaired of ever seeing again. Every word he’d said had been loving, almost painfully heartfelt; his gorgeous eyes had burned with intensity, so focused on him. Lost in his daydreams, it’s past noon when he finally makes his way into the cacophony of the College.
Wandering for a while, he watches a few bards-in-training as they practice, offering encouragement and what advice he can. He keeps an eye and ear out for Saxxon all the while, but can’t seem to find him. Eventually, he pulls one of the students aside and asks.
“Uh, I thought he and Ari4na were taking a little trip. Jam session in the wilderness or something. Cool, right?” The kid sighs longingly, clutching his instrument, clearly wishing he’d been invited. Teagan can relate.
“Yes, very cool,” is all he says, letting the kid get back to his practice.
He’s a little miffed that they didn’t ask him along, to be honest, but he won’t spite them their outings. They were friends long before he knew either of them, after all.
The sun starts to set, and he starts to worry.
Everyone he’s talked to has said it sounded like Saxxon and Ari4na were on nothing more than a quick, spontaneous trip, and when Teagan checks, Saxxon’s traveling gear is still in its place. He knows they’re both capable, that they can take care of themselves, but he can’t escape visions of wild animals, bandits, accidents. He retreats to their still-mussed bed once night has truly fallen, though he doesn’t sleep until hours later.
When he sleeps, he dreams of Saxxon, so vivid that he’s reaching for him as he wakes. His fingers only meet cold bedsheets, and the brief contentment vanishes in an instant. His stomach churns, and he realizes he missed dinner the night before.
He chokes down breakfast so Saxxon and Ari4na won’t have reason to berate him when they get back. They’ll already see the wild relief on his face, and he knows they’ll both laugh at him - “Miss me that much? Babe, I’m so flattered!” He’ll only shrug, because yes, he did miss them that much. Missed Saxxon that much.
Even as distracted as he is while he waits for them to return, he forces himself to get to work. He may not have the musical skill to teach, but there are still things he can do for the College. He meets with disgruntled Port of Ra residents who complain about the noise, using all of his well-bred charm to cool their ire. He offers critique, or at least a willing ear, to the students. All the while, he takes breaks to make quick circuits of the College, though he finds no one he’s looking for.
He’s beginning to seriously consider setting off himself despite not knowing exactly where they’d gone, staring off into a corner and contemplating his odds of getting hopelessly lost himself instead, when someone comes up to him and clears their throat.
“Ari4na!” Teagan says, ducking down to give her a hug. “I was wondering when you’d get back.” He looks around, but Ari4na’s alone. “Where’s Saxxon? Did he go straight to our room?” He squints up at the building, but can’t tell if any of the lit windows are theirs.
“Teagan…”
“You’ll laugh, but would it kill you two to let me know when you’ll be back next time? I mean -”
“Teagan!”
He blinks and looks back at her. Really looks. Ari4na’s expression is grave, her eyes tired, hands in tense fists at her sides. Slung over her back is Rumblin’ Thunder, the sharp lines of the guitar unmistakeable. She swallows hard.
“Teagan,” she says, voice carefully steady. “He’s not coming back.”
He forces a smile. “That isn’t funny, Ari4na.”
“It’s not a joke, Teagan.”
Stepping back from her, he shakes his head. “Where is he? Tell me where he is, Ari.” He looks around, as if Saxxon will materialize if he only wishes hard enough.
Her face twists. “He isn’t anywhere, Teagan. He’s -”
“No!” Teagan yells. “Stop saying my name like that, like I’m - fragile.” He spits the last word, furious, so angry that he’s shaking. He has to work to calm himself enough that his next words come out steady. “I don’t care what stupid thing he’s done that he’d ask you to - I don’t care. Whatever it is, wherever he is, I just want to be with him.”
Ari4na shakes her head. “I can’t - Teagan, please. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. Saxxon is -”
“No -”
“Saxxon is dead.” Ari4na’s voice breaks on the last word, and she puts a hand over her mouth as if she can stuff it back where it came from.
“I don’t believe you,” he says. His own voice sounds distant and tinny. He stumbles back, suddenly disoriented, looking for a way out. “Where did you go when you left? I’m sure he’s just lost. He probably just had an accident and needs help getting back.”
Ari4na catches his arm, slowing his steps. “It wasn’t an accident and he’s not coming back, I don’t know what else to tell you, Teagan, just - stop!”
He can’t bear to look at her, can’t bear to see the truth in her eyes like he can hear it in her voice, raw and broken. His gaze lands on the guitar again, the bright, poisonous shine of it.
“What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t an accident,’” he says, quiet. It’s hardly even a question, because suddenly it’s all too clear. Saxxon’s last exuberant performances, how his eyes had lingered on Teagan and how he’d gone uncharacteristically quiet when they were alone. That last, glorious night, and the morning after when he hadn’t stayed to say goodbye.
Teagan only realizes there are tears streaming down his face when Ari4na reaches up to brush some of them away, her face lined with grief and concern.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, and slaps her hand away. He knows, bone-deep, that the guitar she carries caused this - it, and everything it represents.
“Teagan -”
“Don’t! I can’t - I can’t do this, I can’t look at you when he’s not - just leave me alone. And get that, that thing away from me.” He storms away before she can respond, blindly making his way to his room on muscle memory alone. The door slams shut behind him. Alone, he collapses on the bed. His mind is utterly blank, only barely registering the broken, hitching sounds that must be his own sobbing breaths.
It’s still too quiet. And now, it always will be.