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“I’m sorry.” And Stefan was smiling, dear goddess, and this was all going to be awful. Soren just knew it. “Could you say that again? I need to preserve it in my memory forever.”
Soren gritted his teeth. “I wanted to ask for your help. On approaching reading the Vanguard’s lover as Branded.”
Stefan cheered; Soren’s heart sank a little more. “So you do think it’s important!”
He knew where this was going. Ugh. “I maintain for the moment that beyond the fact of being long-lived, being Branded did not have a significant impact on the lover’s work. I’m interested in expanding my interpretive framework for his personal papers.”
Stefan chuckled— it was good-natured, but it still stung a little. “I’m glad you’re finally interested. Where do you want to start?”
It was a good question, and Soren wished he had a good answer. He knew his basics — he couldn’t not, because holding Stefan’s needling off for so long had required at least enough knowledge to know why he didn’t want to go that route beyond the personal ones. At the same time… well, he had been avoiding it on purpose for a very long time. He probably wasn’t all that much better at this than an undergrad after a term of a beginners Branded Studies school course.
It was hard to admit that, especially when Stefan looked so damn pleased with himself. Yes, Soren had been wrong. Was probably still wrong about many things, actually! And yes, he had been perpetually unwilling to learn. He’d known as much for a long time, staked far too much of his life on not letting himself be put into that box.
He’d been foolish. Admitting that was hard even to himself, let alone Stefan.
“You’ve acquired your now-willing student,” he said, trying and failing not to sound like he had a stick up his arse. “I’m taking your advice. What do you think I should be looking into?”
Stefan laughed again. “You could say it like I’m not holding a gun to your head. I know you didn’t want to end up here.”
“If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn’t be here at all,” Soren noted. “I think you know how impossible it is to get me to do something I don’t want to.”
Stefan snorted. “Yes, I rather think I do. So what was it that changed your mind when I couldn’t?”
Soren knew, clear as day, that Stefan was fishing for information. They’d been colleagues for years, and Soren knew how they all felt about him — he was the grumpy trans academic who didn’t do queer studies, the Branded who didn’t attend any of the outreach events. Heavens forbid if they learned he was a care leaver, once upon a time.
He was their little mystery, the staff room gossip that only stayed employed (in spite, of course, of all the free labour he refused to do and the meaningless culture he refused to participate in) because of his research output. Soren knew what his niche was, and he was loath to give it up.
Stefan thought something had changed, and he was right; everything had. But at the same time, Soren was still the same person. He still grew up hiding a brand behind a fringe. He still grew up with social workers needling him about whether he might be special, and maybe he wanted to consent to a DNA test to work out where he’d come from, and maybe…
That was a long history. The history of the lover as Branded was even longer, and Soren was prepared to get over himself for the sake of it.
That didn’t make any of this easy.
“The papers held by the Goldoan Research Institute, the ones they weren’t letting anyone see,” Soren explained. “The papers include details as to why they had them in the first place.”
“No.” Stefan’s mouth dropped open. “No, he’s not—”
“He was,” Soren confirmed. “Royalty, at that, or at least we think so.”
“And it took you until now to talk to me about it?” Stefan was practically hopping up and down on the spot. Whether it was from anger or excitement, Soren didn’t know; all he knew was that it was like Stefan was sapping all the energy from him. He really didn’t want to be here anymore.
“Yes.” There was no hiding it, and no dancing around it. He’d avoided this conversation because he didn’t want it to be significant. He just wanted it to be a part of the lover’s history, irrelevant to him in a way Soren’s own heritage had almost always been the same.
But somewhere in all those decades the lover was alive, it became important to him that there was someone else out there for him other than the Vanguard. Someone who’d look to him in his old age, preserve what he’d once owned and keep it all safe. And he chose his birth family, which meant Soren had to know things about them, damn it.
“No wonder you needed a hand.” Stefan was grinning now, the excitement evident. Soren had handed him the kind of information that would change the shape of Stefan’s discipline in relation to the lover, and admitted that Stefan was right the whole time all in one. For Stefan, it was probably like the solstice had come early. “Whatever you need, I’m offering.”
Soren could see it in front of him: an hour, easily, talking it all through. Stefan bouncing on the edge of his seat, notebook in his lap as he wrote down scores of notes on things Soren would never have known to think about. An hour or more with this sick feeling in his stomach and throat, choking him with all the—
“Right now, I need to go,” he said, shooting a glance up at the clock. He had nowhere to be; he just needed to not be here. “Sorry to cut this short. I’ll— email you.”
Stefan frowned, but he didn’t call him on it. He knew, though. Soren was sure of that. “Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”
Soren just tried not to run for the nearest bathroom. He hated this.
“Ike.” Soren had been turning it over in his mind all evening; how was he even meant to talk about this? How could he pose it in a way that wouldn’t make him look terrible?
It wasn’t like Ike wasn’t aware of his flaws; perhaps he was more aware than anyone other than Soren himself. But laying it out in a way that would actually help Ike help him…
Damn it, he was trying to be honest about all of this with Stefan, and he couldn’t even manage it with Ike. This was hopeless.
“You finally wanna talk about it, huh?” Ike turned over, setting his phone aside to face Soren. Soren wanted to burrow under the blankets and just not come out, actually. “Don’t look so surprised. Of course I was going to notice. Is this about the meeting from earlier?”
“You’re far too perceptive,” Soren grumbled.
“And you’re transparent.” Ike’s tone was fond, though. It didn’t sting as much as it would have with literally anyone else. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“It was about the meeting,” Soren confessed. “I— I tried. It’s about the book, I… I realised I needed to. Talk about the lover as Branded to understand his personal life and papers.”
“Stefan,” Ike surmised. Soren nodded. “It didn’t go well?”
“He wants to help,” Soren said. He was meant to feel good about this — he and Stefan had been practically feuding for years. He would have been totally within his rights to refuse to help Soren, tell him to learn how to study Branded like the rest of them did ten or more years ago. He definitely wasn’t meant to feel like this. “I… don’t know if I really want it.”
“Why not?”
This was Ike’s whole thing— he wanted Soren to get most of the way himself. He always made Soren do the work, and Soren was glad for it! Except for now, when these were emotions he’d been clawing back for years.
Soren sighed. “Because I was wrong. I avoided this for years, I was wrong, he was right, and he’s gleeful about it. But I never avoided it for academic reasons, it’s just…”
Ike’s eyes drifted up towards the brand on Soren’s forehead. They snapped right down instantly, but Soren saw it and Ike knew it. He pulled a slightly guilty face. “It’s complicated for you,” Ike said. “Like everything else with you.”
The wry grin on his face almost tricked Soren into smiling back. “Yes, I suppose so. But Stefan isn’t you. And he doesn’t know he’s jumping up and down all over my feelings.”
“Soren.” Ike moved to hold Soren’s cheeks between his hands, and that told Soren everything about exactly how much he was about to be rightfully teased for being absolutely terrible at this. Ike got all the emotional intelligence in this relationship and he knew it. “I say this with love, but…”
Soren just about managed to hold back his laughter when he rolled his eyes. “Hit me with it,” he said. “What obscure social cue did I miss this time?”
“Nothing like that,” Ike promised. “Just… this is a really radical one, so brace yourself.” He paused, mostly for dramatic effect. It was a little ruined by the fact that his only witness was Soren, whose cheeks were squished between his hands, but it was the thought that counted. “You should try talking to him honestly about how you feel.”
Soren snorted. Yeah, that would do it. If only it were so easy. “You know, I’d never considered that.”
Ike squished his cheeks harder; Soren scrunched up his nose. “I mean properly. You told me plenty of feelings! And yes, it’s hard, but you respect Stefan, right?”
“Of course.” Stefan had been his colleague for years. Even if he was infuriatingly set on a particular subject area he rightfully invested a lot of himself into, he was good at what he did. That was why this was so frustrating.
“And Stefan respects you — he would have long since given up on you if he didn’t.”
“Thank you for the glowing vote of confidence.”
“You’ve been trying to get him to leave you alone about the lover being Branded for years!”
“…I have. Make your point, Ike, so I can go back to not thinking about my emotions again.”
This time, Ike removed one hand from Soren’s cheek to flick his nose. “You respect each other, but you’ve said hurtful things to each other. He hasn’t abided by your academic and personal boundaries, and he’s a bit of a sore winner. You were cruel about his academic passions, which is a dick move but that’s exactly why you did it.”
“I thought you were telling me to get a therapist, not volunteering to be one.” He knew Ike didn’t hear any annoyance in his words, though; they’d been through this one before. Soren was listening, and Ike knew it.
“I’m nearly done, then I’ll leave you to your repression,” Ike said, his smile as close to a shit-eating grin as Ike generally got. “Like it or not, Stefan is literally an expert in the kinds of complicated things you’ve been feeling. It’s literally his job— and it’s probably why he’s put up with your attitude for so long. Play nice for a bit, give him the benefit of the doubt, and see how it works out. If it doesn’t, you can come back and say ‘I told you so’.”
“The greatest incentive.” Something in Soren felt a little lighter saying it, at least. Or maybe just from being in Ike’s presence; it wouldn’t be the first time.
Talking, though, laying it out clearly… that was hard. As much as he hated to admit it, Ike was completely right here. Soren just had to work out how to give it a shot without leaving his dignity in pieces.
“You should sleep on it, though.” Ike pressed a kiss to Soren’s temple. He very rarely kissed the brand at his forehead, and Soren had always appreciated that he knew to do that without asking. He was definitely glad Ike didn’t do it now. “It’ll all make more sense when it’s not nearly midnight.”
Soren snorted. “Most things do.”
Ike cheered, very quietly. “Goodnight then, Soren. I love you.”
Soren smiled — to himself, more than anything. Ike seeing it was a bonus. “I love you too. See you in the morning.”
‘Dear Stefan,
Thank you for speaking to me the other day. I’ve thought it over and I think you’re slightly overdue for an apology.
This is not my area of expertise; it is yours. I have repeatedly rebuffed your efforts to get me interested in this area of study for many years, and while I stand by my general snappishness on the subject and in the conversation in general (I think if it bothered you overmuch, we would not still be on speaking terms — there are some things about myself I think are unlikely to change, no matter how many articles on post-brandism academia I read), I have been rude.
I have my excuses — I’m sure you can gather what they may be. In the interests of my apology appearing sincere, I will inform you of a little of it. I am, as you well know, Branded. While my initial origins are obscure, it seems likely that my upbringing without my parents was near-entirely determined by this heritage. When I began my studies and then research in earnest, I saw that every teacher in the relevant department of my undergraduate institution was Branded, and wished not to be put in a box with the rest of them for the rest of my career. It was this desire that led to my resistance towards pursuing any Branded Studies.
I know, obviously, that this is hardly a good excuse from your perspective. I must have seemed prejudiced and close-minded. In a way, perhaps I was. But I hope that we can move forward from that. I simply ask, out of respect for the fact that I have my own experiences that engendered my hesitance towards engaging in the subject, that you are sensitive to that. I am otherwise, as always, welcome to all your dry humour.
We’ve been doing this dance for a while. I hope we still have things to say to each other; though if we do not, I do not blame you. I await your reply, but I know that these things take time. Thank you for considering my perspective anyway.
Kind regards,
Soren.’
‘Dear Soren,
That’s quite an email you sent me! In the interests of both brevity (I know, amongst all the other collections of your quirks I’ve picked up on along the way, that you do so hate it when your time gets wasted) and sincerity I’ve tried to strike a balance between length and actually responding to you without any kind of dismissal here. I hope it lands!
Thank you for your honesty, and of course for the apology — I accept it, naturally. There were parts I knew — you’re not as secretive as you seem to think, I suspect — and many I didn’t, and I’m glad for the chance to have been able to get to know you a little better. Were you perhaps anyone else, I would refer you on to a mailing list for a half dozen oral history groups who might want to hear about you, but I feel like that would lose me all of the goodwill I’ve spent so many years attempting to win from you, so I won’t. Just know it’s an option!
You’ve always engaged far more with my work than someone with a true prejudice against the field would, and I think you do know that. I would be insulted by the implication that I wouldn’t catch on, except you’re usually direct enough that if you actually thought I wasn’t capable of reading between the lines, you probably would have just said so.
With all of that out of the way, let’s take this from the top, shall we?
Thank you for your inquiry into my research and how you might better incorporate the ideas I work with into your study of the lover of Tellius’ Vanguard. As I know you have a fairly decent grounding in the theory already, I want to recommend some more practical collections of texts — there are some sourcebooks that I usually work with my graduate students on. As they’re arranged thematically, I’m sure you’ll catch on to the kinds of themes you’d be looking for in the papers.
See those attached in the list I’ve sent; I’ve also suggested a handful of works on the lover himself, though I know very few people have done extensive work into the Goldoan Papers yet (please tell me how you get them to answer your emails. I’m desperate, and if you tell me it’s because you happen to have Goldoan Branded heritage I may cry). A fair few of these focus more on the poetry, which I know is entirely your field of expertise and you’ve already dismissed the framework for studying his poetry, but I ask just this once (for the hundredth time, I’m sure you’ll think) for your tentative reevaluation of your views.
I’m sure I’ve invited you before, back when we first knew each other, but it’s been such a long time that even though I know your response, I’ve forgotten it. So, I’ll ask (again, most likely): there’s a student and staff Branded social event on the last Friday of the month. You would be very welcome and I’d love to see you there. Feel free to dismiss the idea at speed, but I’m nothing if not persistent.
Your friend,
Stefan.’
“I must also offer thanks to Stefan Hideo, a valuable colleague and remarkably stubborn friend. The chapter on the lover’s Branded heritage would not exist without his input and patience. When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, sometimes they do go to faculty dinners together.”
-An extract from the acknowledgements of Lover, Poet, Would-Be King: The Unnamed Lover of Tellius’ Vanguard by Dr Soren Daer.