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“Can I stay with you? Just for tonight?” The boy asked softly as she closed the book propped up against her legs. Glancing down, her left arm was draped over his shoulders, his head rested on her chest and knees against her hip. He was so small, curled up at her side. She used her right hand to put the book on her nightstand, shifting under the covers until she could see his face looking up at her. Those green eyes, already huge but made even more so with his glasses, stared up at her expectantly. Her touch reached towards his face, hesitating for a second before dropping to the covers. It was so ingrained in her, to affectionately cup freckled features and hold them close- but he wasn’t her. She had to unlearn that.
Cocking up an eyebrow, Donella pressed her lips together for a second as if she were thinking. “Isn’t that what you said last night? And the day before that?”
Her tone had softened as she spoke but his expression morphed to fright. Fumbling over himself, Hugo sputtered a bit before nodding and glancing down. In his anxiety, his tiny fist had grabbed onto a portion of her nightshirt, as if he were terrified of being torn away from her. Her gaze followed his, and gently her palm rested on top of his curled knuckles.
“It’s alright, kid. Get comfy,” Reaching out, she plucked the glasses from his face and folded them neatly, placing them on top of their bedtime read resting on her nightstand.
There was a spark of panic as the world became blurred, his heart leaped out of his chest as everything seemed to swirl together. He squinted but it didn’t get much better- the only thing he knew was- Clinging onto her, his arms squeezed around her middle and he buried his face against her collarbone, inhaling deeply.
He used to hate the rain, when the sky would darken into murky gray and the world would get so cold- the water would chill him to the bones, and no matter where he was he couldn’t get dry because there was no stick hut or box that could keep out the weather. And then the wind, it was always so cold.
But she smelled like the moment after the storm, where the world was a little quieter, like morning dew when he could actually breathe. She carried the tang of metal, cold and harsh but somehow on her it was comforting, And when he closed his eyes there was nothing but her, the darkness couldn’t reach him.
Staring down at the boy, she quietly turned off the light and scooted down, laying with him half on top of her. There was a heaviness to him, a weight from the years where the world threatened to drive him into the earth. His hand rested on her chest, fingertips brushing her skin. Donella stared up at the ceiling stiffly, it must have been like hugging a wooden block but he didn’t seem to mind. Hesitantly, as if the very motion was foreign to her, she rested a hand on his back.
“When do you think my job will be done?” He asked softly, echoing back to when she first invited him to her home, taking him in under her wing. It was easier to say it was merely transactional- she didn’t- she couldn’t care for him.
Taking a breath, she shrugged, “Mentor and student, it’s up to you.” When she spoke it was to the sky past the roof of the building. Up to someone else to decide, it was always someone else's choice whether they stayed or not- she never liked how it turned out but it was out of her control.
“What about you,” His tiny voice piped up and she felt him tighten his grip, squeezing her to the point where it was a little difficult to keep her ribs expanding. “What if you decided?”
At that time her fingers had started tracing circles along his back, dragging them up and down his spine in a motion that seemed to lull him to sleep most nights and fend off the terrors that gripped him in his subconscious. Though it didn’t seem to work this time as he lifted his head despite not being able to see her. “When are you going to leave?”
Her breath hitched, an actual pain in her chest at his words. From the way he said it, she knew it was rehearsed. And she was once again left wondering about his life before she stumbled into it. It almost felt like she had failed him, failed to protect him from the universe and its harshness. But it wasn’t like that was her job or anything.
Finally, as if something was giving her instructions, she held him tighter and even turned towards the child clutching onto her as if she were a life preserver. Her hand cupped the back of his head, chin rested in his blond hair. When she spoke it was faint, a promise meant only for him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
Her fingers combed through the strands, she half-lidded her eyes. “But one day, you won’t need me anymore. That’s how I know I’ve done my job right.”
Silence, he snuggled closer and shook his head in protest. His voice was so soft, so genuine it sent her walls crashing down. Just for a moment. “I think I’ll always need you.”
~~
He sat at the kitchen table poking around at his breakfast. On occasion, his gaze drifted over directly across from him. While they were only a few feet apart, it felt like oceans as Donella sat there reading the paper like every morning. It was silent, save for the occasional flip as she switched pages and the clink of his utensils against the plate. “So uh-”
Her green eyes looked over at him, and there was something so familiar yet foreign in them- this pull that made his words dry up as he stared back. I miss you, his eyes would scream at her. She looked back down briefly and the lure was broken.
“Remember at the market yesterday? When you got those bolts for half-off sale price?” Sit up straighter, animate your voice, he stretched his smile a little wider too. She stared at him with this expression that wasn’t blank but he couldn't quite read. It was as if her gaze could see straight through him, down past his mask to every crack and imperfection. She could see him but he wasn’t sure if she liked it. He couldn’t see her. Yet something told him he would love it if given the chance.
A little nod as she shifted her position, reaching over her paper for her coffee mug and bringing it to her lips for a small sip. Hugo waited for something when she put the cup down, but there was no further comment.
“That was so cool!” He continued and got up, acting out the scene, “He was all like ‘that’s the lowest price you’ll find,’” The boy deepened his voice and stood on his toes to imitate height he didn’t have, turning around and backing up before straightening his posture and pushing his shoulders back to imitate her,
“And then you were like, ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ and he started stuttering and then you started to tell him everything that was wrong with them,” He jabbered on, talked to fill this empty space until his lungs were breathless and eyes were glittering. Turning back to her, he held out his hands, “How’d you even do that?”
During his little performance, she had folded up her paper and set it carefully on the table, lining the edge up with one of the woodgrains. Her mug was in her cold hands, she lifted it to her face occasionally for a drink. “Haggling,” She said over the ceramic surface and lowered her hands into her lap. He waited for more, there was never more.
Eventually, he sighed in defeat and started to go sit down, stopping as she stood with her empty cup to go wash it in the sink. He jumped up, running over to her and snatching it from her hands. “I can do that!” Piping up, it was fairly easy to take the thing from her- natural talent. Scurrying over to the sink, he hopped up onto his step stool and excitedly lifted it. A little too excitedly as the side of it caught the little lip of the countertop. Splintering, a loud almost crack that made him jump.
“Hugo!” She didn’t raise her voice but there was an urgency to her tone as she hurried over. His eyes met the piece of the ceramic that landed on the stool between his feet. Staring at the cup, the orange glaze gave way to the white clay underneath. Strong hands gently picked him up, setting him down on the ground as Donella knelt and took the broken mug from him. Her eyes looked it over, the large chip in the side, and put it on the counter. “Are you hurt?”
She asked and he shook his head, clutching his hands to his chest. He watched as she turned to the destruction- he just wanted to help. He could help! He- he was going to do better next time.
“I can clean it up, I can- I can fix it,” Reaching out, her cold fingers wrapped around his wrist and stopped his outstretched fingers just as they got close to the shard.
“No, don’t bother,” Her voice was always the same sort of level, he pulled his arm back, “It’s just a cheap mug, waste of time. I’ll clean it up.”
Waste of time- waste of time- the muttered phrase echoed in his ears. Staring down at his hands, the little scars that raised from his skin and calluses from the years- waste of time. He couldn’t be a waste-
“But Don, I want to help!” Stepping closer, she turned her head quickly towards him and the intensity in her eyes immediately froze him to place. She blinked and it was gone.
“Why don’t you go clean Olivia’s cage? She’s been getting whiny about it.” He opened his mouth again to argue, watching as she put the largest shard into the broken vessel and stood. Within a few strides, she was over the trash can, a second or two and she had chucked the damaged goods into the bin. It was so clear in his head as he scampered off, she was going to do the same to him if he didn’t prove he was worthwhile.
~~
“Forceps?” Holding out her hand, Hugo hurried towards her and adjusted the goggles on his face before handing the woman the tool she asked for. She glanced to the side before looping her fingers through and using the prongs to lift off a small beaker of bubbling liquid. “Thank you.”
He beamed at that, little bubbles in his chest at her approval, and hurried back to the side. Sitting down on his chair, he watched as she worked, her confident movements as she transferred vials and measured out ingredients. She spoke out loud to him, one of the only times he could walk along a consistent tightrope of her voice. Donella explained the processes, walking him through each step in detail. Holding out the forceps when she was done and they had cooled, Hugo hopped back down and took them, running them back to their proper place in her tool shelf. She promised that once he learned the uses for equipment and their places, then he’d be allowed to actually assist her in the lab.
“Now what you want to do is wait until it just starts to foam, then you’ll add,” She gestured to the side and, following where her hand was, he hopped up.
“I got it!” Running over, the boy reached up excitedly and started to grab a vial from where it was placed on the table, despite his mentor’s quick and panicked protests. He pulled towards him, not realizing that said vial was attached to another and dragged both of them across the edge of the table.
A shove, the shattering of glass, he stumbled back and fumbled as his goggles were knocked out of place. The lenses were specially made to act in place of his glasses, and the world became more clear as he shifted them back with gloved hands. She always made him wear gloves even when she rarely did, and he understood why. They were bulky and uncomfortable and she was stubborn. So stubborn. Looking up, his face fell.
She was on her knees, right hand locked in place as if all her joints had completely calcified. It shook despite her left fingers wrapping around her wrist to the point where her knuckles turned white. On the floorboards in front of her was shattered glass and then some liquid, the contents of the vials. Gritting her teeth, she felt her right cheek tug as a red mark was slowly forming on her skin. She hadn’t screamed, only grunted a tiny amount as blisters started to appear.
“Don!’ He cried out and hurried over only for her to hold up her injured hand in a stop motion, “Don, I’m so sorry!”
“Stay back, kid,” She ordered but he could hear how her voice broke just the tiniest amount from pain. Lowering her arm, it still trembled even while she stood up and used her shoe to nudge the glass aside while her other hand turned off the bunsen burner. That experiment would remain unfinished and end up in the garbage. “Why don’t you uh-” Sucking in a breath, she tucked her injured hand away- acting as if she were resting it on the table. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Take some coins and go get yourself a sweet, hm?”
There was a rumbling in his ears, his vision locked on her hidden hand. He hurt her- he- he wasn’t just useless at this point he was harmful. “Do you-” Do you want me to leave for good? The question hung on his lips, he couldn’t stand the answer if he said it. Clutching his own fingers tightly, he stared down at them and took off the heavy fabric. If she had been wearing them she’d be okay. If he wasn’t there, she’d be okay. Slowly, the boy backed up and reached for his glasses that were set aside on the opposite table, placing the gloves beside them. “Do you want anything?”
A pause, at this point she had turned his back towards him, “Those candied lemon peels? Can you pick some up please?”
“Yeah-” He breathed out and pushed the lenses onto his face, the world becoming clear once again. “I can do that.”
~~
Knocking on her door, his hand was already resting on the handle before her voice called out welcoming him inside. It had been a week since she promised him, all through his childhood he relied on those vows. For a kid who never had security- never had someone to trust- each one put him more at ease. She promised to let him in, little by little even if it was just a small chat a day- she promised to come back and he had missed her so terribly while she was gone.
Her words echoed in his ears, ‘it wasn’t your fault’, they carried him through the day. The lab was quiet now that she needed rest, much to her own distaste. Recently it had been harder and harder to keep her out, so now all he could do was sit next to her while she worked on small projects and endure little amused smirks from Cyrus as he tried to persuade her to sit down. Stepping into the room, he walked over to the side of the bed and handed her a mug of coffee, black. His stool had been moved into the room and he sat quietly, watching her drink. “How is it?”
He asked and watched as she stared down into the surface. When she glanced up, she was sitting in a basement in Corona late at night when even the cricket had stopped chirping.
‘How is your coffee always better than mine?’ She mused and turned to the woman sitting next to her. Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, a yawn as she brought her own piping hot drink to her lips.
‘Well mine has a secret ingredient,” A sip and her eyes opened, Donella felt her shoulders relaxing at that shade of blue- she could get lost in that gaze for forever.
‘And what is that?’ She lifted the contents of her own mug closer to her face, the steam warming her skin as she stared down and tried to see if anything was added. Her pondering was interrupted as Ulla scooted closer, using one of her legs to wrap around her own and pull her foot over. Donella lifted her gaze to catch that smug expression where her lips flicked upwards and squished her freckled cheeks.
‘Love,’ It was so sickeningly sweet the way she said it, so much so that the taller groaned and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. But her heart was leaping out of her chest and she was leaning closer. Did she mean it? Was she implying? Staring at her, there was this lump forming in her chest that pulled and tugged at her heartstrings, and she didn’t want it to just be a silly phrase they said to each other to get a reaction. She didn’t want it to be a joke. Was that what they were? Was that what all jokes were? Ways to cope with what could have been?
“Don?”
She shook her head and glanced to the side at Hugo’s face, then back to the dark liquid. Right. Bringing it to her lips once again, Donella closed her eyes and nodded.
“I haven’t had coffee like this in a very long time,” A sigh left her as she set the mug aside, her arm shaking and the boy quickly coming in and taking it from her, setting it down on the table.
“Have you been icing your bruises properly?” At that, the woman gave him a little eye-roll and nodded, though when he didn’t seem convinced she sighed and rolled up her sleeve to show him the grayish skin that was starting to fade.
“Happy?”
“Very.” His tone was smug as he took her arm, looking over all the wounds including some of the scabs that had formed over scrapes and cuts.
She groaned and made a gagging sound, “You sound just like Cyrus. Been hanging out with him too much,” Donella muttered and pulled her lips into an annoyed frown that Hugo only laughed at, reaching over and gently pushing her shoulder. It was nice, to be able to joke around with her.
“Well, you taught me to clean up my own messes. And since I was the one who got you hurt,” A dangerous amount of hubris, sly hands, a stolen scroll. That night still echoed back in his mind, coming back to find the lab a mess- her on the ground. The way she was so weak, it freaked him out how she struggled to stand without assistance- almost as if she was on a tightrope, walking the line between consciousness.
He must have stared off during that time, eyes glossed over. She knew that look, that feeling of intense guilt that gnawed away at your insides- leaving this hollowness that echoed from within and never felt whole again. And though it didn’t hurt it was always there, this nothingness inside her. “Hey,” Even she was shocked at the softness of her tone, reaching out, Donella rested a hand on his, “None of that,” She wanted to let her thumb gently run along his knuckles but refrained, “I am just as much to blame.”
There was a pause, he stared down at her grasp on top of his own. It was so comforting, so familiar. Her rough skin was cold, he longed to turn his hand over and bring her knuckles to his lips- blowing hot air to warm her fingers. But they weren’t there yet, though maybe one day they would be. “Are things… really okay now?”
He asked and when she looked at him it was like they traveled back years, all the way back to when that timid child hesitantly asked her if she was going to stay. His eyes- they were screaming with this want- almost need to be loved. There was that same hint of his trust, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she had failed him. “Between you and me?” A nod from Hugo and she glanced down, “Do you want it to be?”
“Yes!” He leaned forwards a little when he spoke, yes yes yes! He wanted those late night star watching sessions on the roof again, when he could grab onto her tightly and feel her heartbeat and chest rise and fall. He wanted the world after a storm and a touch on his shoulder. He wanted to see her- really truly see her. He wanted her back.
In response Donella nodded, slowly squeezing his hand, “Then they are.”
~~
“So I pretty much lived only on cold sandwiches for like three years,” She replied with a little shrug. Hugo stared at her from across the kitchen table, the light from their lamp pulled shadows across her face as she spoke. He knew it had only been a few months but even so it felt like forever.
Late night talks were natural, being around her the normal. And though she didn’t seem to change much, didn’t start smiling or kissing the top of his head or something- he could tell things were better. She was lighter when she moved, there was a spark in her eyes he had never seen before but never wanted to be without now. “And your parents just- let you do that?”
A casual nod with a quiet scoff, “I don’t think they knew, weren’t around much,” It was a short phrase, mentioned in passing as she got up to take his empty plate. She gave him a look to ask if he was still hungry, and when he shook his head turned to bring them to the sink.
“Wh-what do you mean, Don?” He asked, face falling just a touch as she spoke. The more he learned about her past, these tiny chunks here and there- all scrambled and out of order, the more he hungered for more. But sometimes, and he knew this, he didn’t always like what he heard.
“Oh you know, they were busy and didn’t have a lot of time. And sandwiches were easier, stove was too tall,” The lax nature of her tone made his stomach churn. He thought back to the earliest pieces of his memory- at that point, they had faded to only a feeling. Pangs of hunger, the freezing winter air, this jolt that chilled him to the bone. But after that, there were warm meals at the table. Clumsily chopped vegetables and meat cooked a bit too long, but it was hot and fresh and painstakingly put together. Donella hated cooking.
She turned on the faucet, ran the plates under the water. A blink and she was in her childhood kitchen, opening the trashcan and tossing a paper bag inside. The lid closed and sound echoed through the empty halls. The way it reverberated- like pangs deep inside her chest each time. There was just so much nothing- it made her feel small.
“I’m sorry,” Hugo breathed out and wasn’t sure if she heard by the way she was staring so intensely at a spot on the ceramic.
Then she spoke, “Don’t be. I- I understood,” Her voice grew quiet, faint as she got soap and a sponge, working in circular motions, “They just- I don’t think they ever really wanted kids, you know? But they still raised me so it worked out.”
Exhaling a breath that seemed to take a little too much out of her, she gritted her teeth and stared down at how the sudsy water washed down the drain. She never felt particularly wanted- well that wasn’t entirely true. At one point she did, but that was her misjudgment.
Arms wrapped around her from behind, she stiffened and nearly dropped the plate before putting it aside. “Ulla?” It was so faint that Hugo didn’t hear, thank Demanitus he didn’t hear because she was just starting to realize no one had hugged her like that since. It was silent for a long while, her arms frozen and wet hands just dripped into the sink below. His head rested on her back between her shoulder blades. When he spoke, his voice was soft- with sincerity that filled up the room.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
~~
The lab was cold, almost unfamiliar as he walked in. A little part of him still waited for her to call out his name, or to get some sort of acknowledgment but nothing came. And for some reason that hurt a little more, to have had something then to lose it. It reminded him of when she first started to pull away. This pit in his stomach opened, he felt sick and a shiver trailed up his spine. The hurt from an old wound. She was slipping again, and after how far they had come. Was it some cruel joke? Maybe an experiment of hers? Or did he mess up and just not know it?
He thought they were becoming okay again- he thought they were okay. But that was his misjudgment.
Pulling his smile into a little smirk, maybe if he did so he’d feel a little better, he sauntered into the room and sat down on his stool, putting his feet up on the table. No response. He watched the back of her head, hunched over her reading desk probably looking at some old scroll in a language he couldn’t read. Hell, he could barely read English. “So uh, weekly status report time, Don. You coming?” He drew out his tone in an expectant voice, waiting for her to at least look at him. When she did, a little while back at least, it was like all her attention was on him- like he was worthy of it. She made him feel like he mattered. But this time she barely lifted her head.
“Hm? Oh yeah uh- go ahead, Hugo.” She muttered and picked up a pen, starting to jot down notes and even whisper to herself.
Begrudgingly he started, going over the daily lives of him and his three companions as they made their way across the land. Never in his life- not once- had she been like this, actually ignoring him. There had been times where she shut him out, more than he could count, but never like this. She would always listen to anything he had to say, long rambles and stories that no one else took interest in besides her. Cyrus tried but the man couldn’t keep up with his rapid-fire speech. He didn’t even exist to her now! And he didn’t ever since he brought up that stupid Eternal Library. Eventually he sighed, stopped talking- not that she would notice- and walked over.
“Don,” He put a hand down on her book to get her attention, watching as she whipped her face towards him. There was a glint in her eyes, almost a slow burning anger or panic that made him back up a bit. For so long she was always so controlled, he never saw that look before and it just felt- wrong. But he hid his fear and crossed his arms, “You haven’t even told me what’s so important about this stupid Library to begin with. And when I ask Stripes all he does is talk about his mom or something.”
She stiffened, and for a second Hugo wondered if she was about to give him shit for the nickname. When he had first used it she practically growled at him to not get attached- like he would ever do that. But no sound came from her as she stared off.
‘Donnie, please! Please don’t leave me here! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me- please come here. Let me help you- I’ll take back my curse please just don’t go!’
Blinking, she shook her head like she had to dust off the clutches of the past, cold tendrils that latched onto her shoulders and neck and cheek, threatening to pull her backwards. Resting a hand on her scars, pressing the raised skin down, she shook her head. “It’s none of your concern.”
“I can’t believe you!” He snapped and was shocked at the volume his own voice reached, “What happened to your promise?!” The words broke as he uttered them into the air, “You promised me you wouldn’t shut me out again- you promised you’d tell me things.” She never- she never broke her promises. She never broke her promises.
“Not now, Hugo,” There was restraint in her voice, like she had to stop herself from saying something she’d regret. Because how was she going to explain it to him? That this very Library was the source of it all? No- she wasn’t ready. She was a fool for thinking she’d ever get there, and now the slightest mention of it had sent her back years. “This is something I need you to just do- please.”
A stand-off, two pairs of green eyes holding firm. Her gaze bore into his own with this intensity that almost burned. He turned away and scoffed, stepping towards the door. “Fine,” He muttered bitterly and reached for the knob, “I’m going back then,” Even though he had technically only finished half of his report. Just before leaving, he couldn’t help it- couldn’t hold his tongue, “Since I’m obviously not wanted here.”
Storming out the door, he pushed down that little voice in his head wanting her to run after him. No- he hardened his heart to her completely because she didn’t get to do this! She didn’t get to make him feel the way she did- make him think that he had a future with her- just to leave again. He squeezed his eyes shut, balled up his hands into fists, and hurried forwards. Until-
“Hugo!” Donella called out before breaking into a run, shutting the door behind her before closing the distance he had put between them.
That voice still made him stop in his tracks. Even when he was pissed at her, she was the person he wanted most. Even when thinking about her created this pit of anger in his stomach, her arms were the ones he wanted to melt into. It was like he was a little kid again, and when she was around the darkness couldn’t reach him. And he hated that and he loved that- and he hated her and yet he couldn’t bring himself to keep walking. “Hugo, wait.”
Her tone, it brought memories of someone he was wondering even existed. The person whose gentle touch could make any pain go away, who always kept her promises. Where did she go- and more importantly why did she leave? “Are you going to tell me why you’ve been acting weird lately?”
He muttered and stiffened his shoulders, hunching away from her touch even though he didn’t turn around to see her outstretched hand. Because she always did that, and a part of him just wanted to turn around and be held. Just for a little while.
Opening her mouth, Donella practically choked on air as she thought on his question. Her breathing grew almost heavy, hyperventilated at the mere thought. “I can’t,” She eventually choked out.
“Then I guess we’re done here,” He growled and continued forwards. Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist, gently coaxing him to stop.
“Wait- please,” Stepping closer, she glanced down, wanting to run her thumb along the side of his hand and over his knuckles but she just dropped it instead, “I’m sorry I wasn’t listening before- come back inside, Hugo. You can give me your report over coffee.”
“Why? So you can sit there in silence?” The boy spat out harshly and kicked at the pebbles in the ground, his tone laced with venom, “I spent way too long sitting at that stupid table wanting you to say something. So thanks for the offer but I’ll pass.”
“Hugo,”
He whipped around at the way she spoke because how dare she- how dare she speak to him like that? In this way that was so soft, so gentle he almost wanted to believe that things would be better. But he knew the second they got back to discussing the Library it would all come crumbling down. Because that’s exactly what happened last time. When his green eyes glared at her, there was this glint of mistrust she never saw before. And Donella knew she had done it, she pushed him too far.
“I already fucking told you I don’t want to!” The boy shouted and threw his hands down to his sides in frustration. She reached out again, grabbed him again and he yanked himself out of her grasp, “Just let me go, Mom!”
Both of them jumped back a little, he raised his hands to his mouth as if trying to snatch the word out of the air. But it was already done. He had never seen her caught so off guard before. He took a step back just as she extended a hand. Hugo stared at it, the rough palm that cupped the back of his head when he was in tears, long fingers that expertly fixed up his wounds without pain- small scars and marks received from protecting him. His vision blurred, he turned and sniffed, wiping away moisture on his sleeve and disguising it as if he were rubbing his face.
There was this pain in her gaze- almost this longing to finish the motion and pull him close. But she was frozen, caught in the in-between- there but not. He waited for her, he really did. Nothing. What did he expect?
“Just forget it,” A bitterness to his words as he turned around, “I’ll see you next week, Boss.” He put an emphasis on that title, something that Cyrus would call her though she always told him to just call her Donella. It felt foreign on his tongue, strange in this eerily cold manner. But also kinda good, to be the one doing the pushing.
Splintering in her chest, she had driven him too far. Like she always did. “Hugo,” Her words were almost a cry- nearly a beg- and to her surprise he did stop. What to say? Where could she even start? An apology first but then what? He would want answers and- she blinked and the Library flashed in her vision, Ulla’s blue eyes staring at her from behind the barrier. Gritting her teeth, Donella nodded, letting her hand fall. “I’ll see you next week.”
~~
Sliding the tip of her letter opener underneath the envelope flap, she grinned softly to herself as she recognized the shaky handwriting on the back. Nights spent hunched over their desk, carefully scrawling out the alphabet underneath her watchful gaze- part of her missed it.
The paper slipped out easily, old parchment with weathered edges that she allowed her fingertips to graze over before flipping. Donella leaned back in her chair, a smile dragging across her lips as the words spoke to her in that familiar snarky voice. Chuckling to herself as she read over their antics, her eyes stopped, then read the line again- then a third time to make sure she didn’t need glasses herself.
‘Stripes gets annoyed at me when I organize all our potion ingredients alphabetically. He was joking about it earlier and I said that my mother’s teachings outweigh his.’ There was more hesitation to his penmanship there, as if the blond was wondering whether to continue or whether to scrap the letter and start over. ‘Can I call you mom? Is that okay?’ The ink continued before moving on to something completely different. Which was pretty standard practice in their correspondence.
Propping up the stiff paper in front of her, Donella reached into her drawer and pulled out her own as well as an envelope. She scratched out the familiar name, four letters at the top of the page, and went from there. Responding to his technical questions was easy, then she drabbled on for a bit about how things were going, a little update on Cyrus and the lab- a bit of her life snuck in there as well.
Hovering her quill tip towards the bottom of the page, she sucked in a breath.
‘Yours,’ How she would usually sign off their letters when it wasn’t something along the lines of ‘from that nagging voice in your ear’. She was so used to the motion her hand almost went to sign her name before pausing, changing at the last second, ‘Mom’.
~~
Pacing around the venue, Donella muttered to herself as she went over her checklist. At this point, everyone had given up on trying to calm her down and instead resorted to listening to her orders and completing them as fast as possible lest she exploded.
“It’s Hugo’s wedding, it has to be perfect! I hate weddings- no don’t think like that, Don, it’s his special day. Little over the top with the fountain- no if he likes it then it’s perfect. Oh, it has to be perfect!” She spoke to herself under her breath, methodically going over the clipboard in her hand again and again even though all the boxes were checked. Eventually, Cyrus took the board from her and urged her to go for a walk, saying she could get it back after she wasn’t hyperventilating. With a scathing glare, she was off and wandering down the halls of Corona castle.
To think that another lifetime ago she and Ulla were standing in the town looking up, she remembered how her friend stared up there in awe- ‘I wonder if they need two Royal Engineers,’ she had joked and bumped Donella’s hip lightly. The joke was that neither of them were suited for the royal lifestyle, but it was fun to dream.
What could they have become if only- It was bittersweet, and the ache in her chest reminded her of that- along with the soft smile on her face. Tucking her hand into her dress pocket, she let her thumb run down the uneven seam so lovingly stitched together by her old friend. She was never the best seamstress, but that didn’t stop her from trying- especially when most women’s formalwear failed to accommodate what she needed.
A door opened behind her, “Mom?” She stopped right in her tracks and turned around, laughing out loud at the sight. The blond had his hair gelled down and slicked back, loose tie around his neck and vest unbuttoned, “You know how to tie a tie, right?”
He had seen her do so on herself when they had to attend some formal events. Walking over to him, she sucked in her cheeks to keep from snickering- and while the tough skin there tugged it didn’t quite bother her like it used to. Reaching out, Donella ruffled his hair despite Hugo’s quiet protest and ducking away. “Hey!” He cried out though honestly didn’t seem too upset, “It took Eugene hours to do my hair!”
“And he made you look like this? I’ll have his neck-” The woman joked as her hand went from rustling up his light locks to cupping the back of his head. She grinned and slowly moved to hold his face, running her thumb over his freckles. “When did you get so tall?”
Her voice was soft, a hint of pride sneaking into her tone as she tilted her head in question and she stared up at him. Her gaze changed as she took him in, going over all his features. In her mind, he was still the scrappy child who needed a step stool to reach the sink. Where did the years go? Blinking, she found it strange that her eyelashes were starting to clump together, another and she sniffed softly.
“Mom!” The boy- her boy- whined and turned his face into her palm, “Don’t tell me you’re crying before the ceremony.”
“What?” She bristled and straightened, huffing and snatching the loose tie from around his neck, “Of course not! I’m just- pretty boy’s stupid hair gel got in my eye.”
“Did you just call the Captain of the Royal Guard ‘pretty boy’?.” Hugo teased as she marched into his room, trailing after her and shutting the door before obeying when she motioned for him to come closer. Holding the accessory out in front of her, he watched her keen eye look it over before nodding with approval and looping it around his neck. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, tying it, bringing the knot up to sit properly, and folding down the button-up.
“Good?” She asked to which he nodded, adjusting it slightly around his collar and staring at himself in the mirror. While he did so she buttoned up his vest for him and dusted off his shoulders. Her hands rested there as she brought him closer, tilting her head to take in his reflection as well. “I’m so proud of you.”
She whispered after a moment of silence, squeezing him gently.
“You’re getting mushy again, Don,” Hugo started, afraid that if he addressed her as ‘Mom’ the waterworks would actually start. Bumping him with her hip, she scoffed and shook her head, turning away and quickly wiping at her face for no reason at all. He took her hands before they could fall to her side, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “I’m proud of you too.”
Blinking in surprise, the woman glanced down at their fingers before up into his eyes. And there was no flashing of blue, no memories of grandeur and heartbreak, there was just him- her son. “I have something for you,” She replied and dropped one of their hands, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a neatly twine-wrapped box. Originally she was saving it for after she walked him down the aisle and spoke at the dinner- you know, all the stressful stuff. About to speak, she was interrupted by a rather offended squeaking and glanced down to see Olivia, with a little flower tied to one ear, climb up her skirt and scramble down her arm to the box. Picking up the metal mouse with her other hand, Donella held her in her palm. “Oh don’t be dramatic, Olivia dear. Nothing could replace you.”
She muttered and let her thumb gently pet the little thing’s head before turning back to Hugo who was staring at her with this glint in his eyes. It could have been amusement or laughter or joy, maybe even love, “You don’t have to open it now-”
Her words were cut off as the boy, the second he received the present, started to undo the string keeping it in place. Some things never changed. While he worked, Olivia scrambled back down his mother’s body and went to presumably check up on the rings. He opened the lid, nestled on a white cushion was a silver watch- one he immediately recognized as a product of his mother’s hand. “Woah,” Hugo breathed out and carefully took the gift out of the box, setting the container to the side and delicately letting the band drape over his fingers. His thumb carefully brushed over the face, watching the hand tick.
“So I can nag you about being productive even when I’m not around,” She joked as he looked up, wordlessly pulling her into a tight hug that seemed to squeeze all the little broken pieces of herself back together. For a second her feet left the ground as he held her before gently setting her down. Her arms didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, resting her chin on his shoulder. He melted into her touch, letting his eyes close. It was like he belonged there, in her embrace that was still so strong- so safe even though he wasn't a little kid anymore. The darkness couldn’t reach him when she was there.
“This doesn’t mean you can’t visit- now that I’m married. Promise me that you’ll come around?” He whispered and felt her hand slowly tracing circles along his back and spine. It had been quite difficult to get her to understand that he still wanted to see her after he moved. The first time he came back Donella had asked if he was collecting more of his things. But slowly, very slowly, they figured things out. And they were okay- better than okay actually.
Her eyes widened at that request, shoulders relaxed in utter relief, “I promise,” She replied and felt him sigh with content. Whenever they hugged Hugo was the last to let go, he would be there for as long as she needed. “Promise me you won’t forget about your mentor when you and Varian become big shots?”
He scoffed at that and turned his head into her neck. “Like I could ever do that.” Donella started to pull away, a second longer and he did the same, holding her shoulders. His gaze softened, he was a little kid again and he saw in her expression that she knew. “I think I’ll always need you.”
That smile, it dragged onto her lips so effortlessly, “I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice wavered, shit. She sniffed quickly and wiped at her face in a way that didn’t smudge her makeup. Taking his hand with the watch, she lifted it up. “Check the back.”
A gentle coax, he flipped the face over and lifted the metal up, reading the delicately engraved message. Grinning madly as his green eyes traveled over the words, his hand eventually closed around the accessory.
Hugo, time is the greatest luxury. Don’t waste it.
Yours, Mom.