Chapter Text
“Amaranthine.” Jayce calls, a plaintive note in his voice.
Amaranthine looks up from the puzzle she’s working on with a vague sense of lingering doom. Some little instinct clicked into place in her brain that that voice absolutely meant nothing good.
“Yes, dad?” She calls, and then, before he can answer, in the hopes of forestalling whatever is coming: “How was the signing?”
“Oh it was– fine.” He sounds more distracted. Uh-oh.
Amaranthine tries to think of something else to say and blanks, which unfortunately gives Jayce time to get his thoughts together.
“I met someone.” He says.
Amaranthine stares into the middle distance for a moment, re-evaluating her life.
“Okay.” She calls. “Please don’t ask if I want a new mom or something–”
Jayce actually laughs, and phew, that helps. He comes into the room and leans on the doorframe.
“First of all.” he says. “I’m the mom. Second of all, no, not like that at all. Another kid, actually. About your age.”
“You can’t have a baby.” She informs him. “You’d be awful at it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, get your phone, there’s a Tyranitar egg raid by the Mexican place.”
Amaranthine groans, a little, but she knows this one’s a loss so she accepts her lot and climbs up, going to get her shoes on.
“Can we at least stay in the car this time? It’s really cold out.”
“Is it?” Jayce asks, like he hadn’t just been sitting out in the cold. She eyes him, dubious. He looks a little glassy eyed and oh, great.
“Okay.” She says, after doing math on Jayce making the five minute drive while having a flashback. “But I’ll hold your phone and you gotta drive slow so we can egg hatch.”
“Deal.” he says. “Come on.”
The drive is quiet– mostly Amaranthine telling Jayce when he’s driving too fast and people angrily pulling around them as they creep along the road, but as they’re sitting in the car in front of the mexican place– the car idling, Amaranthine’s knees up against the dash in the front seat as she aggressively taps a flailing dinosaur-knockoff– Jayce says–
“Remember when I told you about Viktor?”
“No.” Amaranthine says, and then processes. “Wait, snake guy?”
“Snake guy.” Jayce says, and then mulls. Amaranthine pretends she has to think about it, and then says–
“Yeah I remember snake guy. Your weird ex.”
“Not my ex.”
Amaranthine squints at him, and Jayce snorts.
“–I never told him. How I felt.”
“That’s stupid.”
Jayce sighs, tapping his screen more enthusiastically. “I know.” He mutters, sounding a little sulky. Amaranthine wonders what the good advice would be in this situation. What would those wise older women in soap operas say? Nevermind, that’s stupid.
“Did he come to your signing?” She asks instead, because she’s curious.
“No. But I think his son did.”
“Right. You mentioned. Did he just– walk up and tell you he was your ex’s kid?”
“Not my ex.”
“Whatever.”
“...No.” Jayce admits. “He asked me to sign a photo and when I asked who I should make it out to he said Viktor and then gave me the– Kubrick stare.”
“Kubrick stare?”
“You haven’t seen– nevermind, you shouldn’t know what I’m talking about. Forget I said that.”
“Okay.” Amaranthine says, slowly, taking that in stride. “So he just kinda stared at you?”
“Well I asked if it was his name.” Jayce says. “And he said no. And then he left.”
“Well.” Amaranthine says. There really isn’t much to say to that. She considers. “At least it means your ex–”
“Not–”
“–is still thinking about you, right?”
Jayce pauses. “Huh.” He says.
“Maybe he misses you.” Amaranthine says, and then lets out a little crow of victory as the raid completes.
“Maybe he does.” Jayce says quietly, and then snorts. “I thought you said you didn’t want another parent.”
Amaranthine shrugs. “I want you to be happy.” She says. “And I guess if this kid seemed.... Cool. Then having a sibling would be fine. I’m still your favorite, though, right?”
“Of course.” Jayce says, grinning a little. “Nothing’s going to replace you, you know that, right?”
“I know.” She says, fiddling with her phone. “–Can we hit some more stops? I want to get some more gifts to give people.”
“You’re not adding strangers, are you?” Jayce asks, concerned, as he starts the car again, and Amaranthine rolls her eyes.
“You know there’s not like...a messaging service. Right. No one’s gonna kidnap me.”
“You send gifts with your location attached–”
She sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “I only added people at school, dad, it’s fine. Hardly anyone plays anymore.”
“They should. It’s a good game.”
“You just say that because you want more people to trade with. Have you gotten that...party hat pikachu yet?”
There is a long sullen silence that answers the question. Amaranthine switches on her seat warmer.
“You know.” She says. “You should call him.”
“Should I?” Jayce asks, tone neutral.
“Yeah. You’re still thinking about him after all these years, right? That seems....”
Amaranthine lacks the words. There are lots of big adult feelings, there, and it’s hard for her to conceptualize loving someone for longer than she’s been alive. Loving someone so completely that the mention of their name changes your whole day. That you can recognize their kid in the way he looks at you over a photograph. Like a thumbprint in pottery, like somebody leaving a scar on you.
“...pathetic.” She finishes.
Jayce laughs.
“Guess so.” he says, and then reaches over and tousles her hair one handed.
“Let's get ice cream.” he says.
“It’s... literally twenty degrees.”
“Did I raise a coward?”
Amaranthine delicately does not point out that he didn’t raise her, and just puffs her cheeks out.
“Bet you won’t eat it standing outside.” She says.
“You’re on.”
At least she could always cheer him up.