Chapter Text
“Checkmate!”
Unable to contain their excitement, Past bounced up and down in their seat. The flame over their head hissed exuberantly. They’d carved a gruesome path across the board, their tactics dizzying, their tricks underhanded, until Ebenezer was left with nothing but a single white king surrounded by rooks and pawns.
He stared at their handiwork, dumbfounded.
Past leaned across the table and grinned smugly. “Want to have another go?”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Don’t understand what? That you’re awful at chess?”
“I’m not.” Ebenezer’s brows were knitted with frustration. “That’s what baffles me. I did everything I could, and I still lost… to you, of all people.”
Thanks, Past thought.
Ebenezer rested his chin on one hand, looking pensive.
“How on Earth,” he began, “do I have fewer pieces than I started with?”
Oh.
They hadn’t thought he would notice.
Past shrugged and tried not to laugh aloud. “Dunno! If you were any good, you’d be able to keep track of them, now, wouldn’t you?”
“Past, have you been taking them?”
“What?” They cackled, unable to restrain themself anymore. “Me? Stealing? Pfft! No! No! What do you take me for? I’m an Entis, remembe—“
His eyes locked intensely on theirs. “Show me your hands.”
Past left their stolen chess pieces on the seat beside them and placed their hands, open, on the table.
“See?” they said, their voice warmer this time. “Nothing. You trust me, don’t you?”
They crossed their legs absentmindedly, and the pieces clattered to the floor.
Rats.
“Oh, my!” Past dipped under the table and pretended to be shocked. “How did these get here? Scrooge, look! Are these yours? My goodness! I was wondering where they’d run off to! No wonder you lost!”
“I knew it,” he said, once they’d put every piece back in its rightful place. Past grinned sheepishly at him.
He smiled back. “You rascal.”
“Erm…” Averting their eyes, Past played with a waxy lock of hair. “Well, now we have to rematch, don’t we? Seeing as I had an unfair advantage, and all that…”
“Don’t mince words, Past.” Ebenezer fiddled aimlessly with a rook. “I’m not falling for your tricks again.”
“No tricks this time! I promise!”
“Do you?”
“I do,” they said, nodding. “In fact, to prove it…”
Past grabbed two knights— one Ebenezer’s, one their own— and pushed them together until their snouts touched.
“There!” Their flame waved excitedly. “A peace treaty. I swear I’ll play fair… so long as you do.”
Ebenezer scoffed, but didn’t separate the knights. “If we needed a peace treaty, we wouldn’t be playing chess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You dare disrespect the sacred bond between two horsies? Two star-crossed lovers? Soulmates? Two horses, both alike in dignity—“
“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Ebenezer shook with laughter. “No tomfoolery, then. Shall we begin?”
“I don’t believe it,” they said.
Ebenezer looked up from Spiritual Tribulations. “Hm?”
“You— you— you’ve got me cornered.” They pointed at their king, flanked on either side. “Look. You could easily move a knight here, and then…”
“Well, don’t give me any ideas,” Ebenezer teased. Surely he hadn’t won. Even without their scheming, they’d gotten the upper hand three times in a row now. He leaned back, dismissed this as yet another trap, and continued reading.
“I’m serious. Look here.”
When he did, Past was sliding one of Ebenezer’s knights into the remaining uninhabited square. They glanced expectantly up at him, then back at the board, then back to him.
Ebenezer stammered. “So… so that means I…”
“You win.”
“Ah,” he said, trying to look vaguely pleased and ultimately indifferent all at once. Inside of him, however, joy was flourishing. Warmth rushed to his face; his heart swelled with excitement; the more he fought the urge to grin, the stronger it became, until—
In rapid succession, Ebenezer slammed his hand against the table several times. The pieces jumped, as if startled. Past leapt back in their seat, making a frightened noise, flame hissing with dismay.
The high of victory wore off immediately.
“Past, I— I’m sorry,” he said, his voice becoming soft and bashful. The gleeful presence in his chest deflated. Now it was Past’s turn to smile; he didn’t know why. Were they laughing at him? They must have been. His reaction to winning was far from conventional. If anything, it was horribly undignified. That wasn’t how a gentleman behaved— wasn’t how any grown man he knew behaved. “I don’t know what came over me, I…”
He hadn’t acted that way since he was a boy.
Ebenezer’s face heated further; this time, though, it was with embarrassment. He withdrew his hand and shoved it into a trouser pocket, as if fearing it would behave independently of him. Past has seen far stranger, he thought, trying to reason with himself. And you’ve done far worse. Surely a little outburst like that wouldn’t—
“What do you mean, you don’t know what came over you?”
“I— well, I— I suppose I got a bit too excited. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just…”
In a second, Past was next to him, playfully slapping him on the shoulder. “Ah! Well, where’s the harm in that, then? Anyone would be excited after beating the afterlife’s chess champion!”
Ebenezer chuckled and gently pushed them aside. “That is true. It’s only, well…”
He sighed.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was… happy, yes. But that isn’t a normal way to express happiness, is it? Most men I knew didn’t do that. Most— most boys I knew didn’t, either, come to think of it. It wasn’t until I was coming of age that I realized it was inappropriate. At least, I thought I did. And here I am, doing it again.”
Past squinted, and Ebenezer’s chest tightened with dread. He knew that look.
“When, exactly, did you reali—“
“You’re about to show me something, aren’t you?”
Past shrugged. “Do you want me to?”
“No!” he answered, a bit more desperately than he would have liked. He avoided their eyes. “Please. Don’t. Whatever you want me to see, I’m past it now.”
“Doesn’t sound like you are.”
Ebenezer glowered at them.
“Alright, alright,” they said. He hadn’t expected them to drop it so quickly. “I won’t show you anything, then. But I would certainly like to know what you’re so ashamed of.”
He stared at his lap.
“Scrooge? Are you alright?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you, someday,” he said, the memories already making him feel ill. “When I’m ready.”