Chapter Text
When he was younger, Gurney Halleck used to spend a lot of time thinking about the state of his life; everything he’s been through and where it’s lead him. In recent years though, thoughts of the past rarely occupy his mind.
Occasionally it has been weird, settling into something good.
At first it felt alien, waking up feeling somewhat happy – having a roof over his head, not having to fight for survival anymore. For months he waited for the illusion to fade, for the shitty reality of life to catch up to him, but it never did. Instead, he found that there was room for him in the world; that even someone like him could find some sort of happiness.
A younger version of Gurney might find the life he leads now boring, but it’s also much more than he ever thought he would have. Back then he wasn’t even sure he’d live this long, yet here he is; with a nice apartment of his own, a job he doesn’t hate, and a family he’s found all on his own.
He’s still in the kitchen when the doorbell rings, and he doesn’t bother to put his chef’s knife down when he goes to open the door.
“Easy there”, Duncan says, holding both hands up as he’s eyeing the knife, lips quirking into a crooked smile.
“You’re early”, Gurney mutters, turning to head back into the kitchen.
“Not really!” Duncan shouts after him, as if they’re separated by great mountains and valleys, and not a single flimsy apartment wall.
Gurney gets back to work, having a whole pile of vegetables and nuts that he still needs to chop up. He’s making a brussels sprout salad that a lady at the library swears by, but she in no way prepared him for the sheer amount of time it would take to thinly slice all the damn sprouts.
“Damn, look at you”, and Duncan’s caught up with him now, leaning on the counter as he watches Gurney work. “You’re looking all… Hannibal.”
“Yes, he is famed for eating salads.” The words might come across as a little too sarcastic, but Gurney is focusing on not losing a finger while roughly chopping some walnuts, so all things considered he feels that he can’t be blamed for his current conversational efforts.
“Dude, learn to take a compliment. I’m saying you look good in the kitchen.”
Gurney puts the knife down, and only then properly looks at Duncan. He’s dressed in an off-white linen shirt and dark blue jeans. His hair is wilder than normal, and he’s made no attempt to tie it up into something neat. He’s casual as always, and the shit-eating grin on his lips adds an edge to his supposed compliment.
“Are you bringing something?” Gurney asks, turning back to the chopping board to wrap up his work. He’s been at it for at least half an hour, and he’s rapidly tiring of the entire concept of “cooking”.
“Nah – but I’m planning on making up for it by doing all of the dishes.”
Gurney snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “Are we actually late?”
“Yes and no”, Duncan sing-songs. “Yes, because we should’ve left here at least fifteen minutes ago. No, because I brought the fast car.”
“The top-down?” Gurney shouldn’t be surprised, but for god’s sake, even if the days are sunny and warm, the nights are horribly cold. The last thing he wants, is to drive home at midnight in a damn convertible.
Duncan simply hums a reply, and Gurney does his best not to roll his eyes. “That explains your hair, I guess.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Duncan asks immediately, a hand raised to comb through his mane.
Gurney shrugs, and then nods to the chopping board. “Let me just throw all of this in a container, and we’ll get going.”
Duncan’s got both hands in his hair now, trying and failing to style it into something a bit more controlled. “Is it actually just vegetables?”
“Yeah, and a dressing. It’ll all marinate while we drive.”
“I’m not sure you’re supposed to marinate salad”, Duncan says with a grin, and then he heads back to the entrance, Gurney following him once he’s stuffed the salad into the two only plastic boxes he seems to own.
It’s a sunny day, and Gurney would normally only wear a t-shirt, but considering today’s mode of transportation he puts on a jacket and a scarf for good measure. Then he heads down to the car.
Duncan’s already behind the wheel, the engine roaring. It’s an absolutely gorgeous car; Duncan keeps his baby in peak condition, the red paint glistening – but that doesn’t mean that Gurney is particularly excited for the upcoming joyride.
They speed from the city centre to the suburbs, Duncan’s hair flailing wildly in the wind like it’s actually possessed, while Gurney does his best to frown, and not let the sheer adrenaline of the ride make him slip into a smile.
As they pull up to the Atreides house, Leto is waiting for them on the driveway, looking like he can barely keep from laughing.
“What?” Duncan asks, exiting the car by jumping over the door rather than opening it. “Are you gonna give me grief as well?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it”, Leto says, his eyes still on the car, his grin only widening as Gurney clambers out of it. “I’m just not sure I’ve ever seen such an unashamed display of a mid-life crisis.”
“Says the man who picked up windsurfing when he turned fifty”, Duncan drawls, bringing Leto in for a tight hug, looking like he’s actually attempting to squeeze the life out of him. When he lets go of Leto he scans their surroundings, already smiling. “Now. Where’s my boy?”
“He’s late. There was some mix-up with the internship, and his boss kept him for longer than expected.”
Leto says it casually, and Gurney raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Salad”, he says instead, handing Leto the container.
“Perfect!” Leto exclaims, lifting the lid on one of the containers to peek into it, before he pulls Gurney in for a hug. “I may have gone a little overboard with all the protein. Jessica has been on my case for trying to kill you all with the sheer amount of red meat. This will balance things out.”
“I always assumed it was the alcohol you were trying to kill us with, not the food”, Duncan snickers, heading into the house, shouting a greeting for Jessica the second he steps over the threshold.
Gurney watches him go, and then glances at Leto, nodding at the car. “We should slash his tires while we have the chance.”
The comment has Leto burst out laughing, and he reaches out a hand to run it over Gurney’s buzz cut. “You just hate it because you don’t have a majestic mane that can flow in the wind.”
“I don’t hate it”, and Gurney can tell he’s not convincing Leto at all, so he starts walking slowly towards the house, finding no point in them hanging out by the convertible.
“How are things at the library?” Leto asks, falling into step with Gurney, and instead of leading him to the door they walk through the garden, heading for the patio at the back of the house.
“Good. I’m only working a couple of days a week now, though. We’re finally back in the studio.”
“Shut up!” Leto is grinning now – he leans in to bump Gurney’s shoulder with his own as they walk. “That’s great! Are we talking a single, an EP…”
Gurney glances at him, putting on his best poker face, but even so he can feel his lips pull into a smile. “We’re talking a full album. Maybe a tour – just a few places in the US and Europe. It’s all early stages, so… trying not to jinx it.”
“I’m coming by the studio”, Leto says, an intense gleam in his eyes. “Just try and stop me.”
Gurney snorts a laugh, and though a part of him feels like the excitement is way out of proportion, he tries to welcome it rather than protest. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
By the time they reach the patio, Duncan is already sprawled out on one of the couches. Jessica greets them, hugging Gurney and thanking him for “the only sane contribution to dinner”, and soon enough, they’re all a glass or two of sangria into the evening.
When the gossip shifts from Leto and Jessica’s neighbours to Duncan’s love life, Gurney offers to head into the kitchen and get them some snacks. If any of them notices the timing of his exit, they don’t comment on it, and he’s once again managed to escape any and all nosy questions.
He knows the Atreides’ kitchen like his own, which turns out to be a detriment when the whole point of this is to waste time. Thus, he works slowly, digging through the cupboards for three bowls of different sizes, so that he can spend some time overthinking how he will serve the different types of snacks.
He’s interrupted in his work by the sound of the front door opening, and even though he knows who it is, and even though he knows there’s no need for alarm, he finds himself standing by the kitchen counter, looking out into the living room and listening to the familiar footsteps.
Paul Atreides enters the living room like he’s walking into a stranger’s house. His shoulders are hunched, and he’s looking at the floor, his lips moving in silent conversation. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair tamed into something that resembles a hairstyle, and he’s absentmindedly tugging at his tie, as if all these layers of work-wear is suffocating him.
He seems so lost in thought that Gurney doesn’t want to startle him by speaking, but on the other hand – staying silent and simply watching him seems like an equally bad option.
Finally, Gurney settles for making some noise with the bags of chips he’s got lined up on the counter. It’s enough for Paul to stop in his tracks, and turn to the kitchen, and as he does so, Gurney raises a hand in greeting. “Hi.”
Those dark eyes find him, narrowed and tired at first, but then Paul’s expression softens. “Gurney Halleck”, he says, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smile. “You scared me.”
“Apologies. I’m on snack duty.”
Instead of making some smart-ass comment, Paul simply stares at him, like he’s having a hard time parsing what’s been said. For a moment, he barely seems present at all, so Gurney raises the bag of chips in some vague attempt at explaining himself.
At the sight of it, Paul let’s out a breath that is probably supposed to be a “silly me!” sort of laughter, but it fails to sound like anything but a sigh. “Oh.”
“The others are on the patio”, Gurney offers, nodding toward the door. Not that his directions are needed, with Duncan’s booming laughter so easily heard all the way indoors.
“Tell them I’ll be there in a bit”, Paul says. Then he turns around, seemingly intending to head up the stairs, and so Gurney returns to the very important task of emptying bags of chips into various sized bowls.
He can sense the sneak attack coming, and allows it to happen all the same.
Paul doesn’t put nearly as much force into it as he usually does, but he still tackles Gurney, hip-checking him while also wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Good to see you, old man.”
Gurney shakes his head, grinning as he does so. “You too.”
He wraps an arm around Paul, squeezing him for only a few seconds before letting go.
“Sorry”, Paul says, apropos nothing, as he once again heads towards the stairs. “Work has me beat. My brain is still a haze with all the documents they have me review. I’ll be human again soon.”
Gurney bites the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out unwanted advice. Then he takes a deep breath, and tries to settle for something a bit more conversational. “You’re too young to lose your humanity. That’s only supposed to happen in your thirties.”
“So, I only have a few years left, then.” Paul pauses at the bottom of the stairs, huffing out a laugh that sounds a little more like himself – contagious and warm. “And if you’re not human, then what are you?”
“An entertainer”, Gurney replies immediately, and even though he can’t see Paul’s face from here, he imagines that there’s a smile there to match his own.
“That sure sounds less depressing than litigation.”
“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say that – but whenever we play live, I do feel a little more human afterward than I did before the show.” And Gurney’s intention is to leave it at that; to not comment on things that he ultimately knows little about – but he fails. “But Paul; if you are half a year into a job and it is already making you lose your sense of self, that is a sign that you should leave.”
Paul hums in thought, taking a few slow steps up the stairs and disappearing from sight. When he speaks again his voice is way more familiar – casually loud in the way that you’d only allow yourself to be in your childhood home. “I’ll be down in fifteen.”
“I’ll tell Leto to light the grill”, Gurney replies, barely raising his voice – unsure if Paul’s even heard him. Then he wraps up the snacks project, and heads back out onto the patio.
For the next half hour Gurney gets to listen to Leto describe all of the fire lighting techniques he’s researched, followed by a spectacularly poor attempt at actually getting the grill going. By the time Paul joins them, the flames rise tall, and Jessica looks like she’s seconds from snatching the lighter fluid out of Leto’s hands.
Perhaps it’s because of the conversation in the kitchen, but as Paul makes the rounds greeting everyone, Gurney can’t help but pay attention to how his smile is tight and performative; how he seems even paler now than when they talked; how there’s a redness to his eyes that wasn’t there before.
They spend the evening catching up, and as the night progresses and Paul has had a couple of drinks, he does seem to relax somewhat. Duncan even gets a few laughs out of him, but even so, there’s a tension in how he holds himself that never dissipates. Every question about his work or his studies is met with a non-answer, or redirected to a completely different subject.
By the end of the night, Gurney considers asking Duncan if he too has noticed the change in Paul, but at the same time, it seems disrespectful to do so. If anything, this is something he should talk to Paul directly about – anything else would be gossip.
He settles for observation for the time being. It’s not like he spends enough time with Paul to know if the dinner was just a bad day, or part of something bigger. If Gurney notices that Paul still seems to be doing poorly at the next couple of dinners, then he’ll have no choice but to be a prying asshole, and ask what’s up.
It seems like the best option, with the least risk of overstepping.
Only a few days later though, his plans fall through.
It’s around lunch-time, and Gurney has yet to take his break. He’s sorting through a pile of books, so deep into the work that he’s not really paying attention to his surroundings. He’s rolled up his sleeves, pushed his glasses to the top of his head, and has a pencil behind one of his ears for easy access. It’s not his most put-together look, and he’s cursing underneath his breath, trying to figure out his colleague’s incomprehensible sorting system, when a familiar voice disrupts his work.
“Gurney Halleck?”
He knows that he has no poker face to speak of, and as he turns around, he wonders what can be read in his features except for surprise.
Paul is once again in a suit, having forgone the tie this time, and the top buttons of his shirt is undone. It’s not exactly a casual look, but compared to how he was dressed at the dinner, this seems straight up debauched. In one hand he’s holding a paper bag from the library café, and his fingers are curling into the paper, gripping it hard enough to tear through it.
“Paul Atreides”, Gurney says, despite having never greeted him so formally before. It sounded like a good, casual reply in his mind, but as he says it out loud it sounds unnatural.
“That’s me”, Paul replies, and there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he’s attempting to smile, but if anything, it comes across as a sneer. His eyes trail down Gurney’s chest, his arms, finally falling to the book on orthodontics that he’s currently holding. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
Paul stares at him, his mouth slightly open on a comment that remains unsaid. “This library. This is the library you work at?”
“Every Tuesday and Thursday”, Gurney offers, tilting his head as he takes Paul in; the dark circles around his eyes; the pale, nearly ashen skin; the way he clenches and unclenches his hands. “I also do a reading circle on Sundays.”
Whatever reply he expected, it’s not for Paul to avert his gaze and bite at his bottom lip in thought. The silence builds between them, the words unsaid growing horribly loud in Gurney’s mind, and when Paul finally looks at him again, he can’t put words to the relief he feels when there’s nothing but a warm gleam in those dark eyes.
“The one with the…” Paul starts, trailing off, gesturing with one of his hands as he speaks, as if he could mime the question. “The rainbow one, huh?”
Gurney breaths a laugh, nodding. “Yeah, the queer one.”
“Cool”, and Paul can’t seem to stand still, his gaze once again trailing to Gurney’s hands, the pile of books, and then, finally, snapping back up to make eye contact. “What do you have them read? It must be hard to find stories with happy endings, right?”
And Gurney attempts a casual shrug, hoping it’ll hide how utterly heart-breaking he finds the question. “We keep it varied. Some autobiographies, some classics with subtext, some feelgood contemporaries – you should come by some time. It’s nice.”
“You know, maybe…” and Paul falls silent, reaching into the pocket of his blazer to pull out his phone. It’s vibrating incessantly with an incoming call, and when he reads the name on the screen something like disgust flashes in his eyes. In a matter of seconds, Gurney can see the tension overtake him again; the set of his shoulders, the way he clenches his jaw.
“Shit, sorry, I gotta…” Paul trails off as he answers the call, offering a thin but apologetic smile before he turns to leave. He disappears behind the bookshelves, the paper bag pressed to his chest now as he hurries to catch up with whatever’s happened at work.
Gurney has seen Paul soldier through studies and all kinds of odd jobs in the past years, but he’s never seen him this exhausted before.
Even as he attempts to return to the menial task of sorting through the books, their disjointed conversation echoes through his mind, and when he closes his eyes, the memory of Paul’s pale appearance and hazy, unfocused gaze seem almost ghostlike to him.
It’s the only time he sees Paul throughout July and August. Some of the dinners are cancelled when Leto and Jessica head to New Zeeland for a couple of weeks, but at the dinners that do happen after that – Paul is nowhere to be found. He always sends a group text about how work, or his studies, takes up all of his time, and Gurney feels like he’s maybe reading too much into those few sentences and random emojis – at one point asking Duncan if the dolphin emoji has some hidden meaning that he’s not aware of – but with every new message, it gets harder for him to ignore the gnawing worry at the back of his mind.
It all culminates on the eve when Jessica calls to invite him to a party; Paul is at the end of his internship, and has been offered a permanent position.
Gurney arrives at the Atreides residence with a bottle of fine wine, feeling like he’s attending a funeral.
At first, it’s fine. Duncan’s there, energetic as ever, and Jessica and Leto have arranged for the best catering imaginable. A large group of family friends are present, all of them buzzing about how Paul was always meant for great things – bound to make a career in whatever he set his mind to – but the thing is… Paul is nowhere to be seen.
Gurney goes looking for him, despite the fact that he feels a bit silly doing so. He walks through the ground floor of the house, checks the driveway, and then eventually he searches through the patio and checks the garden.
There, in the grass already wet with dew, Gurney finds him; Paul, kneeling, his hands buried in the ground – tearing at the grass – his eyes turned to the sky, unseeing.
The first thought that appears to Gurney is that – whatever’s happening – he’s wildly out of his depth. At the same time, he doesn’t want to immediately run and get more people, as bringing unwanted attention to Paul would feel disrespectful.
For now, he settles for asking simple questions, trying to figure out what’s happened, and what he can do to help.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m watching the stars”, Paul says, his voice soft – distant.
Gurney turns his head to the sky then, and finds it cloudy. Above them, there’s nothing to find but a grey, milky mess, illuminated by the neon of the city.
“Sure”, Gurney replies, kneeling next to Paul; not watching the skies, but watching him. The pallor of his skin, the wide, searching look in his eyes.
“How are things back there?” Paul asks, making a vague gesture as if he’s attempting to nod toward the house.
“Festive”, Gurney mutters, weighing his options. It’s not like he’s unaware of what’s going on, it’s just that he doesn’t know the scope of it – would it be unwise to involve Jessica, or Duncan? Are there people who know more about Paul’s situation than Gurney does? “They’re all busy toasting and celebrating.”
Paul snorts a laugh, his gaze falling from the sky to the ground that he’s kneeling on. “Not sure I’d call this a celebration.”
Gurney ponders the reply for a while. “Then what would you call it?”
“I don’t have a word for it”, Paul sneers, and in his sudden burst of anger, he seems more alive and present than he’s done all night. “All I know is that the thought of doing this job for the rest of my life is… I don’t want it. I don’t know why I stuck with it for this long. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months.”
The longer Paul speaks the more strained his voice gets, and eventually he seems to give up on talking entirely. Instead, he’s digging with his hands into the ground, his eyes fixed on the grass, and the night seems so vast and so cold.
Gurney glances at the house; its warm light, and the chatter of friends and family carried to them on a gentle breeze from across the garden. He looks at Paul, closed off and shivering on the ground, and then he makes a decision.
“I’ll be right back”, he says, getting to his feet, hurrying back to the house. Once he reaches the patio, he grabs a blanket and a bottle of water, trying not to bring attention to himself as he slips back into the night.
The first thing he does when reaching Paul is to drape the blanket over his shoulders. Then he hands him the bottle of water, watching Paul fumble for it until his fingers trail over Gurney’s knuckles, and when he pulls back his hand, Paul’s touch has stained his skin with streaks of dirt and grass.
The thought occurs to him that he should get Paul inside and washed up sooner rather than later, but all things considered, just getting him warm and hydrated seems like a good first step.
“Thank you”, Paul manages, and then he puts the bottle of water to his lips and tilts his head back, gulping down half of it, before putting it down next to him in the grass.
“Of course.” And Gurney pauses; there are many things he could do in this moment, but he remains quiet. He simply watches Paul snuggle into the blanket, and waits for directions to be given; for Paul to ask him to do something, anything.
“Do you just want to continue watching the stars?” He asks eventually, when he feels the night start seeping beneath his skin.
“It’s cloudy”, Paul replies, almost immediately, and it would be insufferable, if not for how he turns to Gurney as he speaks. His eyes are so wide, his shoulders slumped; there’s no hint of sarcasm or provocation, just defeat.
“There’s nothing out here for us to watch”, Paul continues, but even as he speaks the words, his eyes trail down to Gurney’s hands, taking in the stains that he himself has left there. “Don’t get me wrong – I’d love any excuse to not have to go back there and actually talk about things but… here we are.”
Gurney simply nods. “Here we are.”
“I thought I could do it, you know?” Paul’s eyes glimmer in the dark, tears trailing down his pale skin now. “If dad could do it, so could I, and I mean… mom pulled so many strings for this to happen – I don’t think they would’ve even looked at my CV if it wasn’t for her.”
Paul wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing dirt on his cheek as he does so. Gurney throws a glance at the house, but the last thing he wants to do is to accidentally draw attention to them and make this worse for Paul. Feeling like he’s out of options he takes one step closer to Paul, and then reaches for his shoulder, grabbing him gently and offering some sort of support. At the contact, Paul leans into the touch, letting out a choked sob.
“I know they set me on a path to make life easy, to get me this amazing job, but I can’t do it.” Paul rests his head against Gurney’s thigh, swaying a little, like he’d fall over without the support. “They only make people’s lives worse in that office. I fucking refuse to sit at a cushiony desk and calculate risk and reward like it isn’t real life, and doesn’t affect real people.”
“That’s noble of you”, Gurney tries, regretting the words the second he’s said them out loud.
Paul let’s out a strained laugh. “Fuck off. I’m just trying to be human.”
At first Gurney simply hums in reply, buying himself time to think of something to say. As silence envelops them once again, Paul relaxes somewhat where he leans against Gurney’s leg, and Gurney let’s go of his shoulder to instead let his fingers tangle in that wild hair. It’s not exactly an attempt at intimacy as much as it’s an attempt to put some distance between them – he rustles Paul’s hair, and clears his throat to speak. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t say that”, Paul replies immediately, raising his head to look at Gurney for the first time in a while. The sight of him, dressed in black, on his knees in the damp grass, a soft gleam in his eyes from where they’re illuminated by the patio lights – he looks like something out of a painting. “I’ve done nothing worthy of pride.”
Gurney offers him a wry smile at that, holding out his hand to help him off the ground. “Let’s agree to disagree.”
Paul snorts at that, and it’s unclear if he’s laughing or simply being dismissive. Then he reaches for Gurney’s hand though; his touch is cool and his fingers are sticky with dew and dirt. Gurney pulls him to his feet, and ensures that Paul has found his balance before he lets go of him.
“Well then,” Paul says, turning from Gurney to stare at the building. As he does so there’s a shift in him – a set to his jaw that Gurney recognizes all too well. “I should tell dad that I’m about to ruin everything.”
“Do you want me to accompany you?”
Paul looks at him for a while, before eventually shaking his head. “No need. I know it won’t be that bad. He won’t abandon me, and neither will mom. I’m just in my own head, and I keep imagining this conversation as way worse than it will be…”
He trails off, not because he’s necessarily run out of words to say, but because his voice grows uneven with worry and stress, and then he once again turns his gaze to the skies, trying to blink away tears. Gurney steps in then, slowly, giving Paul plenty of time to back away or avoid him, and only when there’s no hint of unease, does he feel comfortable to gather Paul in his arms.
“Changing your mind isn’t failure”, he murmurs, holding Paul like he used to do when he was a kid. “It’s okay to want something different than the path that’s been laid out for you.”
Paul buries his head against Gurney’s throat, doing his damn hardest to pretend he isn’t crying. “I’ll take your word for it, old man.”
And that’s how they remain, Paul clinging to him, his breath warm on Gurney’s skin, and time passes ever so slowly, and it’s over in the blink of an eye. When Paul disentangles from him, that dark gaze is fixed on Gurney’s face, as if he could cling to him through eye contact even if they’re not physically touching any more.
“You’ll always be Leto’s son”, Gurney tries, his voice horribly unsteady as he speaks. “Jessica won’t love you any less if you give up on law. She could find a way to brag about your accomplishments whether you work at an animal shelter or a burger joint.”
Paul simply nods, and then he inhales sharply, straightening his shoulders with some kind of determination. “I know. It still sucks, though.”
So, Gurney raises one hand, and when his palm comes to rest against Paul’s cheek, the intensity of it nearly has him recoil. Paul’s skin is warm; the sharp line of his jaw resting neatly along Gurney’s little finger; and he leans into the caress like someone hasn’t held him for a long time.
His intent had simply been to steady Paul, and maybe attempt to wipe the dirt from his cheek, but now Gurney finds himself a little overwhelmed by it all, holding still to work through the myriad of impressions flooding his mind.
“My dad paid for my studies for over five years”, Paul murmurs, his lips grazing Gurney’s hand as he speaks. Then he leans back, blinking a couple of times to regain his focus as he puts some distance between them.
“It’ll be okay”, Gurney offers, looking up at the grey skies for a moment, hoping to centre himself. Paul’s grief is so monumental; this thing has been building and building for god knows how long, and now it’s spilling into the night, untameable and raw. “You haven’t thrown these years away. You’ll always have what you learned – even if you end up utilizing it in a different way from what you first intended.”
While he speaks, Paul rubs at his face with both hands, pressing harshly against his eyes while letting out a deep breath. Then he finally lets his hands fall to his sides, and while he looks exhausted, there’s a determined gleam in his eyes. There’s also more dirt on his face, and at this point Gurney won’t make another attempt at cleaning it up.
“Thanks, I’ll just… do this.”
Then, for a brief moment, Paul looks directly at him. His eyes are red now, and even though he’s not crying anymore, there’s a desperation to him – like he wishes that Gurney could just save him from this situation. Whisk him away to a place where none of this would be a problem anymore.
“You’ll do fine”, Gurney says, finally, finding his voice oddly strained as he does so. “And if you need me, come find me.”
“Will do”, Paul says, his voice sort of distant as he once again glances at the house. “Could you distract Duncan for me? I think I want to tell him separately, once I know how things go with mom and dad.”
“We’ll do shots”, Gurney replies, immediately regretting his offer.
“Wish I could be around to see that”, and there’s a thin smile on Paul’s lips, as if he’s attempting a joke while not entirely having the energy for it.
“We could go out some time, the three of us”, Gurney promises, wondering when on earth he so completely lost his senses. “Challenge us to any drinking game you want.”
Paul raises his hand in a salute, his smile a little wider now. “Deal.”
Then he turns around and heads for the house with quick steps, and the closer he gets to the patio, the tension creeps back into his shoulders, and he holds his head low.
Gurney watches him go – watches the silhouette of him approach Leto and Jessica, and then the three of them disappear into the house.
Only then, when this moment is truly over, does Gurney himself move. He walks slowly to the house, unsure of what to do with his hands, and he glances at the unknowing crowd socializing on the patio, and he glances at the starless sky.
For now, all he can do is wait.
That’s how he finds himself on the patio with Duncan Idaho, doing more shots than he’s probably done in the past ten years.
For the first hour or so, he throws glances at the house, even though he’s unable to see anything through the windows. All he knows is that Leto, Jessica and Paul are on the upper floor, and at least he’s heard no yelling, and no one has come rushing down the stairs nor come flying out a window. Not that Gurney actually expects such drama, but at the same time – with Paul so worried, he finds himself taking on some of that anxiety.
By the second hour, he’s made some serious progress into the bottle of tequila with Duncan, and suddenly someone suggests arm wrestling, and well, from that point the night is sort of a blur.
The next day he wakes to a single text from Paul thanking him, and from that point on, it’s radio silence.
For a while, he only hears of Paul briefly when talking to Leto or Duncan. There are updates about him feeling burnt out; quitting his job; pausing his studies. They all give him the updates like he knows nothing – a hesitant sharing of information, as if they have no clue when or where Paul reached his breaking point.
Paul moves back home, and the family dinners are on pause for a while, as he readjusts to the life change. On one occasion Jessica texts Gurney asking for tips on good therapists, and he finds himself wondering when he became the emotionally grounded one.
It’s all talk, nearing on gossip, and then one day, Gurney arrives at the library on a Tuesday morning to find a familiar silhouette in one of the armchairs.
There’s the wild head of hair that Gurney would recognize anywhere, the sharp jawline and nose; Paul is sitting perfectly still in one of the window seats, seemingly lost in the goings on outside.
For a moment, Gurney keeps his distance, taking Paul in. He’s dressed casually now, in a sweater that Gurney recognizes as Leto’s, and dark blue jeans.
There’s a big cup of takeaway coffee on the table next to him, and he’s neither brought a laptop, nor picked out something to read.
Before Gurney has the chance to approach, it’s as if Paul knows he’s being watched. He turns around, and when that dark gaze finds Gurney, his eyes widen, and his lips twitch upward into a soft smile.
The first thing that occurs to Gurney is that Paul looks better than he has in months. While there’s still something haggard in this appearance, he’s not as pale as he used to be; the dark circles around his eyes aren’t as pronounced.
More importantly, his hair isn’t combed down in that horrible desk-job style, but wild and curling in every direction, and even if Paul still looks tired, there’s something about him that just looks… better, lighter – like a weight has been lifted.
“Good morning”, Paul says, raising his takeaway coffee in a cheer.
Gurney has nothing to meet the cheer with, and he’s not pathetic enough to try anyway. Instead, he simply waves, attempting a smile.
“Morning. Here to read?” Gurney asks, sort of at a loss at what else to talk about, and the question is met with another smile.
“Sure, I guess.”
And well, Gurney dragged himself out of bed less than an hour ago, so his mind is still a haze. He does manage a smile though, and if anything, it feels a little too sincere for the occasion. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
Paul simply nods in reply, and then busies himself sipping the coffee that still seems slightly too hot for human consumption.
Within minutes, Gurney sees him go for a stroll amongst the shelves. Paul reads every title, and every now and then he picks a book to browse through or read the back of, but most of the time he returns them to the shelf.
Eventually, he brings back a pile of five books to his armchair, and throughout the day he doesn’t read a single one. Instead, he looks out the window, and sips his coffee way past the point of it getting cold and oily.
Every now and then Gurney walks by his seat; asking if he needs anything, and eventually bringing him a new cup of coffee.
When the clock is approaching eight in the evening, Gurney is considering how exactly to throw Paul out of the premises. He considers buying him a cab; walking him home; buying him dinner. By the time he loops back around to Paul’s seat though, he finds it empty, the books gone – probably brought back to their original shelves.
It’s somewhat of an anti-climax, the day ending without a proper goodbye, but at the same time, he’s happy to have seen Paul at all; to have confirmed that he’s still here, still himself, and seems to be doing better, at that.
On Thursday, Gurney arrives at work finding Paul already perusing the shelves, tilting his head to read the spines of the books.
For a moment, Gurney simply watches him.
Paul is in the Mystery section, crouching down on the floor, pulling a book from the lowest shelf and reading the back in detail before he finally shrugs, and puts it back. He repeats the process many times, finding something at eye-level that catches his interest, pulling out the book and flipping through its pages, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, his dark hair draping over his face – and it has to obscure his sight, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Eventually, he finds a book on the upper shelves that he can’t reach. He stands on the tip of his toes, unable to get a hold of it, and Gurney snaps out of his staring, clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders before he walks over.
“Good morning”, he says, and Paul doesn’t seem surprised by his presence at all. He turns to the side, looking down at Gurney through the curtain of those dark curls.
“Morning.”
“Let me help you with that”, Gurney nods upwards as he speaks, and Paul narrows his eyes at him, like this is the set up for a joke.
“You’re shorter than me”, he says, eyes trailing from Gurney’s face to his feet slowly, as if to make a point.
“It’s not about how tall you are, it’s about technique.”
Paul gives him an incredulous look, biting at the inside of his lip seemingly in an attempt to keep from smiling. “Colour me intrigued.”
It’s honestly not that complicated – Gurney has worked here for years, and has had to accept that the library simply doesn’t cater to vertically challenged people. Early on he learned to reach for the bottom of the book, rather than hoping to grab it by its spine. Then it’s just about edging it out until it tilts off the shelf, and catch it as it falls.
Once he turns to Paul with the book, he’s half expecting a sarcastic comment, but instead he’s met with a surprisingly bright smile – all gleaming teeth and warm eyes – and finds himself caught off guard.
“Thanks”, Paul says, his voice bright with laughter that he barely manages to contain, and when he takes the book from Gurney their fingers brush.
“You’re welcome”, and Gurney trails off, so many questions at the tip of his tongue.
He could inquire on how much time Paul is actually spending here – if it’s a daily thing, or if it’s only Tuesdays and Thursdays; he could ask if Paul commutes here, or if Jessica drives him; could ask if he’s actually here for some purpose, and needs help finding the literature he’s in need of, or if he’s here simply because he has no other place to go. Gurney could ask about all of these things, but he finds himself remaining quiet, feeling the silence build between them until he has to take a step back and clear his throat.
“Well, I’ll get to work”, he says slightly too quickly, suddenly not feeling his age at all.
“I’ll be here”, Paul replies, nodding toward the seat by the window.
True to his word, Paul sits in the same armchair through the entire day, a new pile of books by his side, and he doesn’t read a single one of them. By the time evening rolls around, Paul’s gone five minutes before the library closes, and Gurney finds himself wondering if this will be a common occurrence.
On Sunday, Gurney arrives early for his book circle. He grabs a coffee and walks around the place, and it’s easy for him to pretend that he’s just clearing his mind ahead of the session, but even so, he’d be hard pressed to explain why he specifically seeks out the seat by the window – and why he’s actually surprised to find it empty.
Not that he lingers too long on Paul’s absence; after all, he’s seen him more in this past week than he’s done in months. It’s enough to assure Gurney that Paul is doing okay, and really, what more could he ask for?
By the time he meets up with the reading circle, he’s cleared his mind, and is fully focused on the task at hand. The group is smaller than normal, and once he’s figured out that several of the younger attendees are missing because of finals, he settles in – welcoming any newcomers, and hyping everyone up to talk about the poetry collection that they’ve just started reading.
Gurney’s life has been a patchwork of odd jobs and interest; things he’s learned and loved, and then passed on to others. Sometimes it has felt like there’s been little balance to it, and he’s given much more than he’s gotten in return. On days like this, it doesn’t matter how much he gives of himself, because at the end of the evening, he leaves the library with a full heart and a lightness to his step.
The night is cold and the sky is clear, and he opts to walk home, needing to do something with the excess energy. He knows the route by heart, and doesn’t pay much attention to the parks, bars and apartment buildings he walks past. Instead, he finds himself repeatedly turning to the evening sky – it’s dark velvet and sparkling stars – and he can’t help but wonder if Paul has had the chance to enjoy a clear night sky in these past months, or if he still finds his evenings cloudy and miserable.
As next week rolls around, Gurney arrives for his Tuesday shift to find the seat by the window empty once more. He goes about his work day trying not to linger on it, resisting the urge to text Paul and ask how he’s doing. He has to remind himself that this is actually normal; Paul showing up to the library multiple times in a week, on the other hand, is the anomaly.
So, it isn’t too hard to put his worries at rest, and to get swept up by the repetitive tasks of his job, but then Thursday comes around, and Gurney is once again surprised – this time because he does find Paul in the window seat. The weather is grim, all grey skies and smog, but Paul is here to claim that seat like he, even now, finds the view enchanting.
Somehow, he looks like he’s doing both better and worse; his hair is a mess, and he’s wearing a puffer jacket and joggers, slouching enough in the chair that his fluffy clothes look like they’re about to swallow him up.
There are no books on his table, just a big takeaway cup of coffee, and he’s staring out the window, his eyes unfocused. There’s something raw about him that wasn’t there before, like he’s being himself now, rather than trying to keep up appearances. Gurney can’t help but to think that, despite how the rawness brings a sense of melancholy to him, it’s still a welcome sight.
For a moment, he considers if it would be better not to approach Paul. If he were to think back on his own journey at that age, it’s easy to recall times when he needed to just be left to his thoughts, rather than have some old man try to problem-solve on his behalf.
However, just as he’s about to leave, Paul snaps out of his thoughts, and when he locks eyes with Gurney, there’s a moment where he seems frozen in time, and then a smile slowly spreads across his lips.
“Hi.” It’s a quiet greeting this time, his voice rough, like he hasn’t spoken in quite some time.
“Hi.” Gurney tries to match the smile somewhat, one of his hands coming up to scratch at his bearded chin. “You alright?”
Paul simply nods, grabbing his coffee and gulping down enough of it that Gurney can only assume that it has to be lukewarm at best – if not Paul must have an inhuman resistance to heat. “I guess. Tired, as always.”
“Well,” Gurney says, trailing off in the search for something sane to say, because he’s way too tempted to ask how hot Paul’s coffee is. “You look good.”
There’s no immediate reply. Paul averts his eyes, glancing out the window for a moment, probably finding little there except their distorted reflections.
“I mean – getting some proper rest must do you good”, Gurney adds, unsure if he’s backtracking, or simply making himself clear.
“Oh, right.” And Paul turns to him then, his dark eyes wide and curious, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “Well, I’ve spent most of the past few months sleeping, and I’ve finally reached a point where I don’t have nightmares about team building exercises and time reports, so I figured it’s time to challenge myself and go outside. Read a book.”
“Need help finding anything interesting?”
Paul shakes his head, momentarily frowning before he schools his face into a more neutral expression. “Not really, I’ve found plenty of interesting things. It’s just that I’m not doing good with words on pages right now – but I’m trying.”
Gurney nods slowly, while thinking over this new piece of information. He’s been through a lot of shit himself, but ultimately books have always been his escapism. He’s never had to struggle to get through the words, and so most things he could offer seems like it would be platitudes or unwanted advice.
“I didn’t mean to be a bummer”, Paul says, and only then does Gurney realize that he’s probably been quiet for too long.
“No, that’s not it”, Gurney starts, still not having anything concrete to say or offer, and then he nods at the takeaway cup on the table. “Do you want some proper coffee? There should be a pot of freshly brewed stuff in the employee lounge.”
Paul raises an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to have that?”
“Well,” Gurney drags the word out as he starts walking away. “No one’s going to stop me.”
The trip to the employee lounge and back is fairly quick. It also allows him to drop of his bag and his coat, and to clear his mind while he searches the cupboard for his personal mug. It’s a gimmicky thing that Duncan got him for this fortieth birthday, the text “plan to be more positive off to shitty fucking start” printed on it.
Gurney fills it to the brim. Then he stirs a teaspoon of sugar into the brew, and it’s easy to pretend that he simply cares about making it right – that he’s in no way buying himself some extra time.
When Gurney heads back into the library he finds it slightly more crowded, and Paul is still in his seat, leaning close to the window now – an elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his hand. The outside world is still milky with fog, and it’s easy for Paul to spot Gurney’s reflection in the window when he approaches.
Paul straightens out, and instead of running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face, he throws his head back, the movement quick enough to flip the dark curls out of his line of sight. It’s unexpected, but Gurney can’t quite put words to why exactly he’s surprised. It seems like such an instinctual thing, and maybe that’s it; Paul has worked hard to keep up appearances and uphold the family name, and this is such a small thing, but it’s like seeing something genuine peek through the mask.
Wordlessly, he hands Paul the mug, their fingers brushing, and Paul’s palm is still warm from where he’s held it pressed to his face. It’s a moment that borders on something intimate – at least until Paul notices the print on the mug and bursts out laughing.
“Are you sending me subliminal messages, old man?” If it wasn’t for how Paul grins at him, Gurney would worry that he’d found the mug offensive.
“A gift from Duncan”, he mutters, relieved when the explanation is met with an amused snort.
When Paul has recovered somewhat from the laughter, he sips the still steaming coffee, and instead of commenting on how scalding it is, his eyes widen at the taste. “You remembered the sugar?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” Paul’s smile accentuates the dark circles and the tired creases at the corner of his eyes, but even so, Gurney realizes that he’s rarely seen him this pleased.
At this point the library is far from quiet. People have claimed their seats for the day, students chatting quietly amongst themselves, remote workers trying to get through morning meetings on mute, and Gurney actually can’t linger anymore.
“Gotta get to work”, he says, gesturing with his hand in the general direction of, well, everything.
“I’ll see you around.”
And see each other they do. Gurney stops by the window seat a few times throughout the day, refilling Paul’s coffee and chatting for a few minutes. Even though there’s a strange tension in the air, they fall into something that feels surprisingly easy towards the end of the day.
Paul stays until closing time. It’s unclear if he’s waiting for Gurney, or if he simply doesn’t pay attention to the darkening sky and the now empty rooms. When Gurney puts on his coat and goes to the window seat, he still finds Paul there – no mysterious disappearance into the night this time.
Upon seeing him though, Paul gets up without a word, and follows Gurney to the exit.
Once they find themselves on the massive staircase outside, Gurney pauses, considering whether he should offer to walk Paul home. It’s not exactly a short walk from here to the suburbs, but the night isn’t too cold, and if they keep a steady pace, it should be fine.
Then he notices Jessica’s car parked down by the sidewalk. The engine is running, but even from up here he can see her scrolling on her phone, seemingly unbothered about having had to wait for them.
“See you Tuesday”, Paul says, his hand already raised in something between a wave and a salute.
For a moment, Gurney feels content simply nodding in agreement, and watching him leave. At the last moment he changes his mind, though. “You could come to the reading circle this weekend. Maybe it’s not your thing, but – maybe talking to people about what they’re reading could help you find something interesting. We’ll be starting a new book this week, so it’ll be easy to get into.”
Paul pauses, halfway down the stairs, turning to look up at Gurney through locks of untamed hair. “Maybe I will.”
And well, a maybe is better than rejection. Gurney waves goodbye, and then waves at Jessica for good measure. Then he watches them drive off, before he turns to walk in the opposite direction, his mind already racing with preparations for the next Sunday session.
For the first time in a year or so, it’s Gurney’s turn to pick something for the group to read. Suddenly, he’s not only thinking about what the group regulars would like – suddenly Paul is part of the picture. Perhaps it’s silly to take him into consideration – it’s not even certain that he will show up – but on the off chance that he does, Gurney wants to at least bring something that isn’t completely unbefitting.
For the rest of the week, he spends the evenings going through the bookcases in his apartment, picking old and new favourites, reading a couple of lines here and there. It’s an endless process, and honestly sort of silly. It reminds him of trying on different outfits before going out on a date.
Finally, he settles on a book he used to love when he was Paul’s age. It feels like a risky choice, to pick something that he cares so deeply about, but at the same time, maybe allowing himself to be emotionally honest – vulnerable, even – will allow Paul to do the same.
That Sunday, the room is more crowded than last time. The students are back from their finals, and as winter’s approaching and the days are getting shorter, more people find their way to these types of indoor hobbies. By the time the room is full, Paul is nowhere to be found, so Gurney busies himself greeting any newcomers, while trying to figure out how many extra seats they will need for the evening.
He’s carrying a stack of chairs to the meeting room when he finds Paul Atreides standing outside the door, staring at the poster listing the meeting times of the reading circle. He’s dressed in all black; black shirt, pants, coat. It should be dramatic, or maybe come across as formal wear, but it suits him surprisingly well.
“I’m glad you made it”, Gurney says, and Paul startles, as if he’s been suddenly awoken from a dream.
“Well, you know me, I…” And he turns to Gurney with a sort of blank expression, but once he actually sees him, Paul falls silent. In but a moment, there’s a noticeable change in him; the way a thin smile spreads across his lips; the way he unclenches his hands; the way his eyes trail down Gurney’s arms – his rolled-up sleeves, the fabric straining over his biceps – before snapping back to his face. “Do you need help carrying those?”
“Not really”, Gurney says, hefting the chairs up to show he’s got them in a good grip. “You could hold up the door for me?”
Paul simply nods, and then he’s through the door, stepping aside and holding it up so that Gurney can finally make his way into the room and dump the stack of chairs in the middle. At that point the regulars take over, setting the chairs up, allowing him to step aside and catch his breath.
By the time Gurney’s gone through his bag to find tonight’s book and a bottle of water, everyone’s seated. Some of the regulars are chatting quietly amongst each-other, or attempting to befriend the new attendees. Normally, Gurney would encourage the new people to introduce themselves, but they’ve already had a late start, and well – he also wouldn’t want to put Paul on the spot like that.
So, he decides to save the introductions for last – so that he can give Paul a heads-up and allow him to bow out early if he should so wish – and takes his seat in the circle. There he finds that Paul’s seated right across from him, and Gurney can’t help but wonder if it’s on purpose, or simply a trick played by an unpredictable universe.
Paul isn’t looking nearly as relaxed as he does in his window seat. Here he sits with his back straight and his chin held high, both hands placed on his knees, blunt nails digging into the fabric of his pants. Those dark eyes are on Gurney though, and his breathing seems to be even.
Gurney offers him a small smile, and then he winks at Paul, only catching himself once the deed is actually done. It’s not meant as more than a friendly thing – they do it at family dinners all the time, and hell, Duncan will wink at anyone if he’s drunk enough – but in a setting like this, it feels different.
To busy himself, Gurney quickly looks around the room, properly introducing himself, welcoming everyone and describing what these sessions usually are like. Then, once the formalities are out of the way, he does his best to relax – and not pay too much attention to how Paul’s gaze rests heavy on him.
They spend most of the evening discussing the poetry collection that they’ve just finished reading, the discussion sometimes veering off-topic into new book releases, or whatever drama is currently happening in the world of literature.
Soon enough, it’s time to introduce this month’s book. Throughout the evening people have glanced at it, where it’s been on the floor next to Gurney’s chair. Several of the newcomers have seemed quite relieved by how flimsy and short it is; more like a brochure than a novel, at least by modern standards.
“It’s been a while since I picked something for us to read, and let me just say, I’m very happy to get to share this one with you”, Gurney says, putting the book on his lap while he gets his glasses out of his shirt pocket. They’re not exactly fashionable, the frames a thick tortoise shell design, but he’s had them for years and has yet to find a more comfortable pair.
He looks around the room again, despite knowing that all the attendees will seem slightly hazy to him now, and he finds that even though the world has gone blurry, Paul is easy to make out across the room – the dark clothes setting him apart.
“There are few things that I’ve despised as much as my twenties. It wasn’t an easy time to get through, but I was lucky that this book got popular when I was at my lowest.” He holds the little paperback up, knowing that the nostalgia has his voice soft and warm. This feeling always overwhelms him; the ease with which he slips into reminiscence and yearning when sharing a story with others. “Generation X is on one hand self-explanatory; it became a portrait of a generation. It captured this strange duality of living in a time of excess, while experiencing a profound sense of doom. That’s what the reviews said, and that’s what friends said when they tried to get me to read it.”
Gurney smiles to himself, remembering Leto of all people, the both of them in the booth of some shitty bar. It’s past closing time, and they’re not spending enough money to be allowed to linger, but Leto flashes that infamous gleaming smile, and somehow, they’re served another round. By the end of it, Gurney has rejected the book probably three times – but it feels like a dozen – and Leto is still trying to force his beer-stained copy into Gurney’s hands.
The memory fresh in his mind, he continues speaking. “I expected tongue-in-cheek commentary on our culture, and while I got that, it was the emotional journey that caught me off guard. It was the first time I saw myself in a story that wasn’t necessarily a tragedy, and it has stuck with me to this day.”
“So…” He leans back in his seat, clears his throat, and then finally opens the book. “I’ll read you a short section that I feel captures many of these themes at once. All you need to know is that this is from a chapter where one of the main characters tells his ‘end of the world story’ – a tale that takes place at a gas station, as the characters come to realize that an atom bomb has hit the US.
And so then, just before the front windows become a crinkled, liquefied imploding sheet – the surface from a swimming pool as seen from below –
And just before you’re pelleted by a hail of gum and magazines –
And just before the liquefied ceiling lifts and drips upward –
Just before all of this, your best friend cranes his neck, lurches over to where you lie, and kisses you on the mouth, after which he says to you, ‘There. I’ve always wanted to do that.’
And that’s that. In the silent rush of hot wind, like the opening of a trillion oven doors that you’ve been imagining since you were six, it’s all over: kind of scary, kind of sexy, and tainted by regret. A lot like life, wouldn’t you say?”
Once Gurney’s done reading, he clears his throat and closes the book slowly to allow himself to return to the present day. There are many stories that bring him back to the past in some sense – prose that has built over time with each reread, the words taking on new meaning as he returns to them with a new perspective – but few get to him the way this novel does. At the core of the text, he finds both an unanswered yearning, and a sense of salvation, and on every read it’s brought to the forefront of his mind.
Some of the reading circle regulars offer up applause and cheers; a tradition established to encourage new readers to make a go for it. Gurney puts the book down in his lap, and offers a humble bow to end the performance. At first, he doesn’t think to remove his glasses, but as he glances around the room looking at the hazy crowd that surrounds him, the dark figure right across from him looms large, and he realizes that he simply can’t keep himself from seeing Paul’s reaction.
When Paul comes back into focus, everything has changed. He’s sitting at the edge of his seat, both elbows on his knees, chin resting in his hands. His eyes carry a heated focus, and his lips are parted slightly, caught somewhere between admiration and the wish to say something. When his eyes lock with Gurney’s he makes no effort to straighten out, or avert his gaze. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smirk, and then he winks at Gurney, looking mightily proud of himself as he does so.
Turns out that picking the novel with a recurring theme of nuclear catastrophe was oddly fitting, because Gurney has a hard time envisioning anything but that as an apt metaphor for how he’s feeling right about now.
As the attendees spill out of the room, and Gurney gets to work stacking chairs and putting everything in order, Paul lingers. At first, he wordlessly sets to work collecting empty cups and glasses, and eventually he sidles up to Gurney, helping him arranging the final set of chairs.
“I loved the reading”, Paul says, finally.
“Thank you.” Gurney is quick to reply, glancing at him, offering him a smile, before he gets back to work. “It’s a beautiful book.”
“Yeah, but…” and even at the corner of his eye, Gurney can see Paul attempt to gesture with his hands, only to give up and have them fall at his sides. “I also meant you, you know. I’m not sure when’s the last time I heard you read.”
The thought occurs to Gurney that he could offer to read to Paul only, but instead he focuses on stacking these damn chairs, and wouldn’t you know, it looks like the chairs are fighting back and requiring all of his attention.
“Can I borrow your copy of the book?” Paul asks, not seeming deterred in the slightest by the silence.
And now, there’s really nothing left to do; thanks to Paul the clean-up has been horrifically effective, and Gurney finds that his only option is to close up for the day. First thing’s first, he gets the book and hands it to Paul, and when their fingers brush this time, there’s something almost electric to it. Something unseen passing between them in a split second, charged and impossible to ignore. “Take good care of it – and ignore any annotations in the margins. They might be embarrassing. I’ve had this for a decade.”
The intense darkness of Paul’s gaze is immediately taken over with a delighted sparkle, and he grins widely as he flips through the paperback. “Well, now you’ve got my full attention.”
Gurney shakes his head, chuckling. While Paul is occupied hunting through the book for gossip, Gurney gets his bag, his coat, and then they walk side by side through the dark, empty halls of the library. The building is old and the ceilings rise high above them – at moments like these it feels like walking through an ancient castle.
It’s a late-night walk that Gurney is used to doing on his own. On occasion, he’ll happily waste time, and walk through the rows and rows of books, looking out the windows that cast vast shadows through the rooms, and bask in the night lights of the city. Now he leads Paul through this sleeping world, sharing it with someone for the first time since he started working here.
Paul walks by his side, silent, taking it all in. Sometimes their arms brush, but it’s only for a brief second – over so quickly that he might as well have imagined it.
By the time they’ve made it outside, Jessica’s car is waiting in the same spot as last time, the light from it a warm beacon in the night. Gurney is offered a ride home, but he declines, finding himself waving goodbye as he watches them disappear down the street.
After his first reading circle, Paul seems to spend all of his time at the library. Every day when Gurney comes in for work, Paul is there, and soon enough, he’s not confined to the seat by the window. He moves around the building like he’s mapping it out, and Gurney will find him at desks; in lover’s seats; in the stairwell, sitting on a marble step, hunched over a book.
The first week or so, the fact that Paul is reading seems to be the thing to celebrate, but as weeks turn to months, there’s another shift in him. More and more, he picks a book to bring home, and instead spends his days seeking Gurney out.
Looking back, Gurney actually isn’t sure when or how it happens, but soon enough Paul is helping him out with the daily tasks. Whether it’s going through unsorted returns, guiding visitors to the section they’re looking for, or chatting with kids looking for spooky stories to read, Paul is there, doing it all without a complaint.
It’s not that they haven’t spent a lot of time together before, but it is sort of rare that it’s just the two of them. Usually, it’s the entire family meeting up, or Duncan, Paul and Gurney doing something dumb together, like free climbing or going to a rock opera.
Now Gurney spends half of his week with Paul at the library, and the other half in the studio with his band. While it’s a quite sudden change to his routine, it’s not unwelcomed – but he does find the late-nights playing music to be a much-needed opportunity to cleanse his mind.
There’s a unique sense of calm to do something that comes so natural to him; to play an instrument he’s known for decades, where he doesn’t have to focus on anything in particular in order to find melodies and song.
When he was young, music was an escape. Now, it’s meditation. A way to focus on things less complicated – a way to meet Paul in the mornings with a clear mind and a smile, and to not read too much into their rapport.
On a Thursday they find themselves completely swamped, with multiple schools having picked this particular day to do an excursion to the library. The kids are loud, the teachers are tired, and no matter where Gurney turns there’s endless chaos unfurling.
While he’s talking to a teacher to help them sort out a plan for the rest of the day, he notices that the rowdiness is settling somewhat, but it’s only when it’s gotten suspiciously quiet that Gurney feels the need to investigate. He doesn’t have to search for long; he finds Paul in the science-fiction section, surrounded by twenty or so kids.
“But it’s dangerous to walk in the sand”, Paul says, gesturing widely with his hands and mimicking walking on the tip of his toes. “There are monsters living in the dunes, and if they hear you…” he trails off, eyes dramatically wide, and then he claps his hands together loudly, the kids shrieking at the noise.
Gurney recognizes the reference well – one of Paul’s favourites from when he was younger – and he wonders for how long Paul has been distracting the class by retelling the book. He sort of gets his answer when Paul notices Gurney, and looks at him with equal parts desperation and relief.
“Would you look at that!” He exclaims, gesturing at Gurney, getting all the kids to turn en masse, wide-eyed and curious. “Gurney Halleck is here to show you the way to the auditorium!”
Gurney smiles and nods, and makes his way through the group of kids to Paul’s side. “I am?”
“Yes”, Paul says with determination, slowly starting to walk, ensuring that Gurney and the kids follow. “We have a super cool movie about desert stuff to show these guys, don’t we?”
“Right”, Gurney replies, loudly enough that the kids can hear him. “We certainly do.”
By the time they’ve managed to herd all the kids into the auditorium, Gurney has found their teacher to loop them in on the plan and have them reunite with the class. Then they get a documentary about The Sahara started, and Paul practically flees from the room like his life depends on it.
Gurney follows him, and finds that Paul is just outside of the auditorium, leaning back against the wall, sighing deeply. His hands are tangled in the hem of his shirt, like he’s trying to keep from tensing up and shutting down. “I thought for sure that would be the end of me.”
“Paul Atreides, bested by an army of ten-year-olds.”
The comment is at least enough to startle a small laugh out of Paul. He looks up at Gurney through the locks of his untamed hair, and his lips pull into a wry smile. “We could just lock the doors and make a run for it. Flee into the woods. Make a nice life for ourselves.”
“Do you even know how to build a campfire?” Gurney asks, barely able to contain his laughter.
“Not really, but you’re a good teacher and I’m a good learner.” Paul’s still smiling, and he’s relaxing back against the wall now, his breathing even, the tension gone. “I bet we could make it work.”
“I’ll think about it”, Gurney says, surprised by how much it sounds like a genuine promise.
A couple of weeks later, Gurney has spent too long avoiding the recent book returns, and now finds himself having to spend a full day going through all of the titles. Of course, he’s not doing it alone. By lunchtime Paul joins him, wordlessly getting to work, and once it’s getting late in the afternoon, Gurney feels that he has to say something.
“I’m not sure you should be doing this without getting paid.”
Paul nods, but he doesn’t look at Gurney, his focus entirely on the book currently in his hands. “I would agree with you, but I think this is good for my brain. Sorting things. Finding patterns.”
Gurney hums, caught somewhere between amused and slightly worried. “Well, in that case. Guess we don’t want to remove your enrichment.”
Paul snorts a laugh at that, and then he elbows Gurney in the side; the attack sudden, well executed, and well deserved. “Sorry”, he grunts, rubbing at his aching ribs.
“Don’t apologize, old man.” Paul is still laughing, making quick work of his pile of books as if nothing’s happened. “Stand by your word. If the boy needs enrichment, you better give it to him.”
“You’ll be the death of me”, Gurney mutters, shaking his head, and he won’t even try to keep from smiling because he knows it would be futile.
Then he moves to collect another pile of books, painfully aware of how Paul’s staring at him the entire time; Gurney feeling the heat of his gaze as he pushes his glasses up on his head, and adjusts his rolled-up sleeves before hefting the new pile on to the table.
He puts the unsorted books down in front of Paul, going for casual and sort of nailing it. “There you go. Enrichment.”
There’s a slight pause, and when Paul goes in for another elbow attack, Gurney’s prepared, and actually manages to dodge it.
A few weeks later, a group text pops-up on his phone inviting him to family dinner – and within minutes of the text Duncan has already called him up, barely able to contain his excitement for all of them to be reunited.
They make plans to travel there together, Duncan committing to actually make some food this time. Gurney jumps at the opportunity to not cook, and instead picks up a case of craft beer and some fancy wine. Not that he’ll ever know what wine to pick to impress Jessica, but he does sort of enjoy playing it like a roulette, picking whatever expensive bottle speaks to him and seeing if it’ll be a hit or miss.
When Paul opens the door to greet them, Duncan nearly tackles him to the floor, hugging him tight and spinning him around. Gurney watches from the doorway, at first smiling at the sight – but then it dawns on him that this might be the first time that the two of them have met since the party. He’s gotten so used to Paul’s company that the thought hasn’t occurred to him that to many others, Paul has been gone for months now – at most being a name at the top of a chat, or a disembodied voice on a phone call.
Letting them hug it out, Gurney quietly closes the door behind him, and hangs up his coat and jacket. By the time he’s getting ready to take the alcohol and Duncan’s food to the kitchen though, Paul disentangles from the bear-hug and nods towards the kitchen. “Dad’s made eggnog.”
Duncan grunts at that, immediately stepping around Paul and walking quickly through the house. “Leto! Whatever amount of rum you’ve put in that shit – you’re wrong!”
And just like that, it’s just the two of them, Paul snickering with laughter, Gurney still holding an insane amount of food and alcohol in his arms.
“I see you didn’t cook this time”, Paul says, nodding at the drinks.
“I wanted to give Duncan the chance to shine.”
Paul hums at that, biting a smile. “Sure. That’s what this is.”
“Are you going to help me carry any of this?” Gurney asks, nodding to everything he’s carrying.
“Nah.” And Paul turns then, slowly heading for the kitchen, allowing Gurney to catch up with him and walk by his side. “You’re a strong guy, and I’ve been through it these past few months. I couldn’t possibly carry any of that.”
Gurney glances at him, and when he does so, he realizes that Paul has already been watching him. The heat in his eyes is reminiscent from the time they’ve spent at the library, and when he realizes that he’s been caught staring, he doesn’t avert his eyes.
“Sure”, Gurney murmurs, going for amused, but finding his voice slightly rougher than he intended. “That’s what this is.”
Then they finally enter the kitchen, where Duncan is trying to wrestle a bottle of rum from Leto, while Jessica is watching it all unfold from the dinner table, quietly sipping her eggnog. Whatever spark Gurney and Paul carries between them, it dissipates in the chaos, as they’re quickly roped into the surprisingly passionate eggnog debate.
From that moment on, the familiarity of it all envelops them, and it doesn’t feel like months have passed since they last met up like this.
Duncan updates them all on bizarre clients at the gym, more than once encouraging Paul to drop by, either to work out or to just people watch. Jessica tells an unexpected story about being detained at the border when she travelled with work a couple of weeks ago, not at all specifying why she was detained, instead concentrating on her ingenious way of getting out of the situation.
Somewhere towards the end of her tale, they sort of lose focus, getting into a wild discussion about spy movies, and while the others are distracted, Gurney get’s Leto’s attention, asking if he wants to head out for a cigarette.
They make their way to the patio, and it seems like the others don’t even notice them leaving. Gurney is unsure of how old his packet of smokes is, but he figures that they’ll notice if the cigarettes taste more like shit than usual.
“I’d forgotten that putting all of you in the same room brings out this sort of madness.” Leto sighs, a smile on his lips. He takes a drag from his cigarette, shaking his head, glancing back at the house. “I’ve missed this.”
“Me too.” Gurney puts a cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly. There are certain things he wishes to talk to Leto about, and he has no idea of how to bring it up.
“So”, Leto says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it’s cold outside, and we’re grabbing a cig like we’re still in our twenties.”
“I guess.” And it’s not like Gurney thought he was being subtle, but maybe he at least thought he had slightly more finesse than this. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been spending a lot of time with Paul lately.”
Leto nods, taking another drag from his cigarette, quiet as he takes the information in. “So, that’s where he’s been.”
The answer actually surprises Gurney, and what felt like it would be an easy conversation suddenly feels risky – almost dangerous. “You didn’t know?”
“No, he’s been very tight-lipped around us…” and Leto trails off, narrowing his eyes at Gurney, eyeing him like he’s highly suspicious – and then a grin spreads across his lips, those dark eyes alight with mirth. “Oh, you should see your face!”
Leto leans back on the patio railing, his laughter probably loud enough to be heard indoors. Gurney absolutely should have expected something like this – after all, he has unfortunately known Leto for decades – but he still needs some time to recover, and get his speeding pulse under control.
“Of course I know”, Leto says, still chuckling. “I drive him to the library every morning.”
Gurney shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. “You’re an asshole.”
Leto just flips him off, and when they fall silent, it’s far from uncomfortable. The night is cold, crisp with the first hints of winter, and the house is bathing the patio in warm light. It feels normal – like they’ve found their way back to how things used to be.
As Gurney takes a final drag from his cigarette though, he can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Looking up, he sees Paul in the kitchen window. With the light surrounding him, his hair is lit like a halo, and he’s got that hazy, distant look in his eyes that Gurney knows all too well. Paul has a tea kettle in his hands, but he’s clearly not making any progress in actually preparing the tea.
Finding himself at a lack of things to do, Gurney raises a hand, waving at him – and it’s enough to break whatever spell Paul’s found himself lost to. He smiles widely, all gleaming teeth and soft eyes, and when he raises a hand to wave back, he drops the kettle, diving to catch it, and disappears from view.
“Wow”, Leto mutters, sounding utterly unimpressed, and only then does Gurney turn to find him looking at the kitchen window. “I can’t believe my son is such a clutz.”
“He got distracted”, Gurney says, not really thinking before speaking, and it’s enough to have Leto turn to him with both eyebrows raised, all mock-surprise.
“Did he now?”
And Gurney’s trying to think of anything to say to avoid this conversation, quickly settling on a low-blow from the early years of Leto and Jessica’s relationship. “Don’t make me remind you of how you were back in the day. Remember the incident in the glassware aisle?”
It works like a charm. Leto practically bristles at the mention, and it’s almost too seamless – making Gurney feel like Leto’s playing along rather than actually being fooled. Still, the result is the same, since he’s immediately treated to a long rant about how it was Duncan’s fault because he said that “chicks love fancy glasses”, and how Leto “had no way of knowing that the shelves were so flimsy and couldn’t hold the weight of a human body”.
While listening to Leto retell a story that Gurney’s heard probably a dozen times, he finds himself glancing back at the house. At first, he’s trying to be subtle, but it simply feels wrong.
Instead, eventually, he allows himself to look without any pretence of why, and when he does, he finds that Paul is back in the window, now actually focused on preparing the tea.
It’s spellbinding watching him work; the practice with which he steeps the leaves – some delicate oolong that Jessica can’t live without – and seems to instinctually know when the tea is done, without checking the temperature of the water, or timing the brewing process.
As he works, locks of hair drapes over his face, and he’s talking to himself, his lips moving softly as he perhaps lists the steps of his task out loud. Then, finally, he realizes that he’s being watched, and he cards a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face, as he looks up to meet Gurney’s gaze.
For a brief moment, they just stare at each other, and it feels like sharing a comfortable silence; like the distance between them is all but symbolic. They could be in the same room and they could be thousands of miles apart, and the air would still carry this almost electric tension of something unspoken.
When Gurney smiles, Paul’s eyes light up, and it’s like watching a sunset that he himself somehow brought forth. Paul bites a smile in an attempt to not outright grin, and the moment lasts only seconds and it goes on forever, and only then – with his pulse ringing in his ears and his thoughts wild with things he shouldn’t be thinking – does Gurney realize that Leto is still talking, and that he hasn’t heard a single thing he’s said.