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The second day of junior year, thankfully, had so far been much less eventful than Fabian’s first. There were no Ratgrinders to encounter and seethe over, no waking up on three hours of sleep at most, no telling Missus Skullcleaver that he had eaten a sandwich out of a trash bag—which, he did do today, he just managed not to let it slip—and all in all, it was a pretty average day.
Though, during a short break in his bard class, his crystal pinged. It wasn’t the Bad Kids group chat, nor was it Riz; it was notably uncommon for him to receive one-on-one texts from anyone besides him.
FIG 🔥: hey u dont have practice today right?
He combed through his crystal to check his school schedule he'd written down and never remembered, and, no, he did not. Tuesdays were their off-days.
You: no
You: why do you ask?
FIG 🔥: i know we said at lunch we couldnt make it to ur place after school today but could i just talk to u real quick when class lets out?
FIG 🔥: dont worry tho its nothing bad
You: Well, now i am kind of worried
You: but sure ig
You: wanna just come home with me on the hangman? i can drive you home quick whenever you have to go
A pause.
FIG 🔥: yeah ok!
FIG 🔥: see u after school :)
You: see you !
When class let out, Fabian briefly met the other Bad Kids to say their byes for the evening—they were all too preoccupied with other extracurriculars or school things to come by the Manor today—then Fig feigned leaving with the rest of them before she Dimension Doored to where Fabian was.
Magic crackled through the air and grazed Fabian's skin as she appeared on the Hangman’s back. Okay then. Alright.
He turned to her. "So… what was that all about?"
"Um. Nothing. Um—" Fig sputtered, "Just—you know. Like I said, I just wanted to talk. To you. Is all. You know?"
"Uh, sure. Okay...? Like, here? Or, do you want to go to my place, or, uh—"
"Yes, I wanna go to your place, obviously! And I don't really wanna scream over the Hangman tearing down the streets either so let's just—go there! That'd be cool!"
"Alright, alright," Fabian said, dumbfounded. As the Hangman began to move, he looked over his shoulder to shoot a look at Fig. "Fig, are you okay?"
"Yeah! Um—I’m all fine. Fine enough. Now take us away, Hangman!"
To Fabian’s displeasure, the Hangman began to speak aloud before he could tell it to stop. "As you wish, Miss Infaethable. What a pleasure it is to have you in my seat once again. Master frequently ignores my pleas, sometimes foolish as he is, to bring you along with us on our trips. None of the members of Master's party are as infernally magnificent as you, Archdevil."
"Hey, thanks Hangman! Who's a good puppy?" Fig said at the time Fabian exclaimed, "Bike, stop! Just stop! We don't—we don't do this!"
Fig burst first out into giggles, and then guffaws, as Fabian awkwardly glanced over his shoulder at her; while mortifyingly embarrassed and saying absolutely nothing. And as the bike began to speed across Elmville, he just barely laughed too, because how could he resist Fig's contagious joy?
He could still feel Fig's tense muscles as she hugged him from behind, but the air felt lighter, then, and the drive to Seacaster Manor was easy and calm. He wished he could come home with Fig, or someone, anyone, every day. But he knew Fig, and he knew this was not his normal Fig, so for now, he decided to simply enjoy the opportunity for company. He hoped she was alright, and what happened next would come as it was.
"So, uh... what's up? What's, you know—what's, um, going on?"
Fabian and Fig had slumped onto the floor at the foot of his bed, their backpacks thrown haphazardly about the room and spilling their contents about the floor. He would've asked Fig if she wanted anything, but then she'd definitely need to help him find the damn thing first. He just didn't think that was a good idea right now.
It’d been some time, as a result of their hellish summer, since Fig had come over without any of the other Bad Kids. Throughout sophomore year she would visit frequently to see Gilear, which sometimes ended up more as just Fabian and her hanging out and forgetting Gilear entirely, or Fig forcing attempted stepfather-and-son bonding activities between him and the horrible man.
So despite the circumstances—Fig’s slouched posture and her unusually anxious demeanor—it was nice to have her around. Not having to worry about a grand adventure or the defeat of the next eldritch enemy, just her, here, like they were normal friends. Friends who never had to worry about the continued existence of the world as they knew it.
"I just..." Fig sighed, resting a hand over her face. "It's like... so, I wanted to ask about this all of yesterday and today, but a lot happened yesterday, and I never got a chance to see you one-on-one today, either, and I know I was literally here yesterday but it's still been bugging me and I wanted to ask—or, clarify? So, like…"
She turned to him, "Gilear... left? Like, you saw it? He told you? He just left on a cruise with your mom? For a year?"
Fabian's heart sank, then sank even more at the hurt in Fig's expression. "Uh—ahem—uh—yes. Him and Mama were actually leaving, uh, just as I got home yesterday. Or—early yesterday morning. Mama said it was their honeymoon, and Gilear won the trip in the lottery, or, something like that."
Fig nodded, her gaze boring holes into her beaten up doc martens. When she didn't say anything, Fabian gulped and continued. "Uh—he didn't say much, and it um, surprised me too. I'm sorry, I—I should've told you first, or told you it better, it's just, it was so late, and I was so tired, and school yesterday was such a—"
"No no no, it's—it's not you, you did everything fine, Fabian, it's okay, dude. I just... I just wanted to ask you about this, cause I didn't... I didn't..."
Fabian tilted his head. "Didn't believe it?"
Fig's nod was so small Fabian was surprised he even saw it. "Yeah. Didn't believe it."
She shifted to hug her knees to her chest, and how small she looked was abruptly hitting Fabian like a truck, her eyes fixed away from him onto the ground and head dipped downward. A moment of silence dragged on as Fabian reached out a hand to comfort her, then pulled it away, then tried to say something to her, but every word seemed to fizzle out on his tongue.
It was a long moment before Fig broke the silence herself. “...Did he say anything about me?”
Fabian winced. He looked away. “...No. No, he—he didn’t. I’m sorry. …I would’ve told you first thing if he did. I promise.”
She went quiet again, and it felt like it took all the strength in Fabian’s body to make himself turn back to her, so intensely unprepared for the hurt his friend was feeling. When he did turn back to her, Fig was looking at her crystal, half-heartedly scrolling through her and Gilear’s text messages.
“He was texting me just last week,” she started. “A day or two before we spotted the Night Yorb. He was asking how it was going, and—and saying he missed me. Said he found some money on the ground, and picked up a cool chain someone dropped that he—he was going to give to me.”
Teeth grit and a small growl now having entered her voice, Fig spat, “And now he didn’t even tell me he was leaving for a fucking year?”
“Yes, I… I don’t understand it either. I was confused too. I’m sorry,” Fabian said uselessly.
“Just—what the fuck. What the fuck?” she dropped her crystal with a hard thunk and incredulously moved her hands about, “Why the fuck would he do that? Is he mad at me? But that wouldn’t make any sense, I haven’t done shit, and he was just talking to me. Even in eighth grade he would always tell me if he had to leave me alone to go somewhere. But—but, did I do something? I just…”
Fig dropped her hands with a sigh and folded in on herself, crossing her arms. Her hair had become disheveled from her repeatedly running her hands all through it, and her crimson eyes were large and glossy in a way he had scarcely seen before.
The realization came to Fabian that he was looking at the Archdevil of the Bottomless Pit, one of the most powerful adventurers to ever set foot on Spyre, endlessly brave, supportive, and confident, who has absorbed probably an incalculable number of souls. And this, in the present moment, may be the most hurt he’d ever seen her, the smallest he’d ever seen such a grand person.
He wished he could give a scolding to Gilear himself right about now. Or some minor to major bodily harm, perhaps, as long as they had a diamond to Revivify him if things went south, like everything always went for him—but, somehow, not this time. Well, better give something a try then.
“Well, Fig, listen, I… I—okay well, I’m not very good at this,” Fig almost laughed at that, which he took as a good sign, “But there is absolutely no way you did something wrong. That just—it just wouldn’t happen, honestly. I really don’t understand why he did that, either. I have no idea. But I don’t think it’s your fault, not at all. I mean, you’ve been nothing but cool as fuck and badass as hell all summer. We can all attest to that, actually.”
“Aw, well, thank you. I do like to think I’m pretty badass, honestly.” She sniffled and a tear escaped one of her eyes, so Fabian said, “Oh, hold on, I’ll get you an—um—yeah—” and shot up to grab a tissue from his bedroom’s bathroom. Both of which being things he does know the location of, thank you very much.
Fig gave him a “Thanks,” as she took the tissue, and when he sat back down he placed himself shoulder to shoulder with her, one hand tentatively placed on her other shoulder. But she seemed to be alright with the contact, for the stiffness in her body quickly subsided.
He let her finish wiping her face before thinking about saying anything else, and after a moment the tissue was incinerated in a bout of fire.
Fabian felt Fig leaning into his shoulder as he began to speak again. “Just, uh… You know. Like what I just said, I’m so sorry about all this. It’s—it’s really unfair to you. It sucks. But whatever’s going on, it definitely wasn’t you, or your fault, or anything like that.
“And, I mean, if it’s any consolation, I do kind of think something weird is going on with Gilear. It’s just so not him, to do that, we both know that. There’s a lot of weird ass shit going on right now, I’d be willing to bet this is also some weird ass shit.”
“You think so?” Fig looked up at him hopefully. “Like what?”
“Wh—I don’t know. Anything? Like, the spectrum of weird dubious shit that can go on with people, especially around us, it seems, is like, basically infinite. Maybe some sort of possession, or, uh, a curse that’s been put on him, or some type of devil or demon that’s doing something with hi—”
“Or what about that thing Aguefort mentioned in the video with Ayda?” Fig cut in. “The Time Gargler or whatever?”
“Yes, it could be that too,” Fabian replied, noticing how Fig had jumped in just a little bit too quickly to be brushed off there. He quickly remembered the bits of yogurt and creamed corn that have been getting caught on her shirts, her complaints of smelling yogurt and a strangely upset stomach, and the way she narrowly avoided walking straight into a pit of cement just a singular day ago.
But Fabian waved those thoughts away. Sometimes, you have to pick your battles. One topic at a time.
“My point is,” he continued, “something is definitely up, and, I don’t know what, and it could be a lot of things—but something is definitely weird. And… I’m so sorry he did this. But none of it was you. And, we’ll, uh, figure out what happened. Somehow. Yeah?”
“Yeah…” Fig nodded, with a little more surety this time. “Yeah.” Her eyes still had a shine and a sadness to them so unbefitting of her, but even Fabian was comfortable in saying she seemed at least a little better, now. Seeing her so hurt was something he did not want to see again; it reminded him of how she was after she had been possessed to trap Gorthalax in that ruby.
God. This poor girl and her dads.
And Fabian wasn’t sure himself if he fully believed some outside circumstance was actually messing with Gilear in the first place, but he just wanted to help her, and what else could he say? At least it was a possibility, nevertheless.
“Thank you, man,” Fig said. “Really, thank you. You know—I don’t know. It’s still all… bad. I still don’t really get it, I still don’t really get how that all could even happen, I’ve tried—I’ve tried to call him, but the calls aren’t going through, so—I hope you’re right. You’re probably right. Thank you for listening, man. And for just being here.”
“Of course—uh, any, uh, anytime.” Fabian gave her a very unconvincing nod, and she responded with a smile that reached her eyes.
“Though, I will say,” Fig leaned back and held up a finger, “I promise my plan was not to just come over and cry on your bedroom floor. Like, I was thinking more, like—I’d just come over, and ask you about what the hell went on with Gilear so I could get some closure, or clarification, and then I’d be all fine and good and all satisfied but, ah. Well, this just didn’t really go as I’d planned, if you couldn’t tell.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I really don’t mind at all, it’s just—ah, you can come over any time, you know? I mean, obviously. But, still. It’s just—always—nice to, uh, have you around.”
Fig laughed softly and quickly, gently elbowing him in the side. “Thanks again, man. It’s always nice to have you around, too.”
Their conversation found itself in a comfortable silence, then, but after a moment Fig’s smile subsided. Her face turned a bit more serious. “But like… Again, these days have been crazy as shit, so I didn’t really get a chance to say it, but, I’m really sorry that your mom and Gilear left you all alone like this. Like, that’s significantly fucked.”
Fabian, shook his head. “Hm? Oh, no, it’s—it’s fine, there’s no need for that. I’m, uh—the man of the house now, y’know? It’s about time, and, they, uh… they should have their fun. Mama’s been down on her luck ever since my father, uh, you know—she deserves to be happy now that she, um, has Gilear, so, uh, it’s—it’s quite alright.”
“Your mom literally started dating Gilear, like, at your Dad’s funeral.”
He blinked. “...Oh. Well. I, uh, guess that’s right, yeah.”
“And like, that is like, all wrong, by the way, just so you know. Fabian, you’re a kid! How can they leave you here all alone for a fucking year after we all went through so much this entire summer? And, I mean, if anyone’s ‘the man of the house’ here, it’s Gilear.”
“Hey now, no no no, we’re not—”
“Anyway!” Fig clapped, “my point is: this is fucked. And wait, where’s Cathilda?”
“...Oh, Cathilda. Yes, she was inducted as an elder of the Ramble in Leviathan. I’m… very happy for her. I’m sure she’s doing a great job over there and, um, everything.”
“What? Since when?”
Fig was looking at him with such an incredulousness and intensity, and Fabian now felt very discomfited with the conversation being focused on him. “Since, um, a little bit after Spring Break, I believe?”
“So she doesn’t know your mom did this? Okay! Let’s go to Leviathan and get her! We can use Ayda’s portal at Mordred! We can literally go do it right n—” Fabian was about to protest when Fig stopped herself, and let out a frustrated groan— “Actually, no. No. Ayda’s the only one who has the key to the door and she’s being fucking— dragged through time. ”
She slumped back with an “Ugh,” dragged her hands over her face, then sighed. “Okay. So, um, nevermind. But we can just take a normal trip to Leviathan! What’d it take to sail there with the Hangvan last time? Two days? Maybe three? It’d be a walk in the park!”
“Now hold on, I’m, uh, appreciative of the support, but I just… uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Cathilda is surely very busy with all her duties as an Elder, Leviathan, uh, it’s not an easy place to run, as I’m sure you’re aware of. Also, I’m… really not sure if you can afford to miss any more school…?”
Fig groaned again. “God damn it. You’re right again.”
“Yeah. Just think of The Ball’s reaction, if anything.”
“Yeah. Okay. Okay,” Fig sighed deeply. She propped herself up from where she was slouching and opted for a more normal seating position.
She clicked her tongue, “Well… I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But do know that the offer’s there.”
“Thank you,” Fabian said wobblily. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Fig.”
She hummed contently, and reached over to gently squeeze his hand. The touch was more cherished and savored than he would probably ever admit to anyone on Spyre. No one needed to know that.
“Your mom really does suck, though,” she said abruptly, yet as plainly as if she was reading out the weather.
“Hey! Do not say that, that is not true. My Mama… loves me, and she is lovely, she is a wonderful and powerful woman. She trusted me enough to know I would take care of the house and be fine on my own.”
Fig looked at him like he had a thousand heads. “Okay. Okay, sure. But she also thought it was a completely fine and normal thing to do to completely disappear on you for a year. Wait— actually, why did Gilear think that was an okay thing to do? I know he doesn’t think of himself as your dad, but he wouldn’t do that! He’d know to not leave a kid by himself like that! Why is he even still dating your mom! What the fuck!”
Well, Fig was saying a lot of things right now that made him feel several different emotions, but the bafflement and hurt in her voice still hurt him most of all for a moment. “I don’t know… I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t think there’s an answer right now, um—I’m, so sorry about that. Uh—”
“No, it’s, ugh, it’s fine, it’s just… Like, I know there’s no answer right now, but every time I think about that it just gets worse. Whatever, just—I was trying to say, I’ve been over here so many times, dude, I’ve always thought your mom was… wack. And I knew you wouldn’t like me saying that, but like—seriously. Would she even have told you if you didn’t come home at just the right time? Did she even, like, offer for you to come with?”
Oh. Alright then. Fabian coughed, and let her words hang in the air like a toxin. “...Um. She said they could arrange that, I believe.”
She pursed her lip. “That’s it?”
“...Yeah.”
There was a part of Fabian in total stunned disbelief that Fig would say such a thing, say all those things to his face, even, that wanted to clap back at the total disrespect of his mother’s honor, grace, and care, but there was another part of him that felt Fig’s warm hand still clutching his own, and the care she’s always shown him, and her shoulder pressed up against his, and he wondered if he could ever remember a time where his mother spent time with him like this. If his mother ever held his hand. If his mother ever held his hand and meant it like Fig did.
“...Okay,” Fig said, her eyes focused downwards, “Well, I’m realizing this conversation got really depressing, and I promise again that I did not mean for that to happen. But uh… yeah. I think your mom sucks. And I’m not gonna change my opinion, but you don’t have to agree with me.”
“No, it’s—it’s alright. Um… she… she’s—well. She’s just—she…” Fabian sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yes, you can think that. …But could we maybe just, move on from the subject of my Mama being bad?”
“Of course! Of course. I’m sorry. Damn, I honestly just keep blundering today.” Fig shook her head, likely more to herself than ever to Fabian. “I’m sorry, I promise I never wanted to upset you, or to cry on your bedroom floor. I still swear I never was planning on doing that.”
“It’s quite alright,” Fabian replied, and it came out trembly and small but he hoped it still sounded sincere. He took a long deep breath in and out, and only realized his hand was shaking when Fig squeezed it again. One thing’s for sure, he certainly did not expect anything like this to end up happening that day.
Fabian looked at Fig. Every word she had just said to him rang in his head, loud and emanating but with little sign of fading away, like a gong that had only just been hit. He remembered all the times he didn’t see his mother for an entire day, or two, or three, because she was in her sensory deprivation egg, or because she randomly went on an expensive trip or to a lavish party.
He thought about when he didn’t see her because she had passed out from the wine she was constantly drinking. He thought about how she almost always gave him presents while she had a wine glass in hand, and he thought about learning Halfling from Cathilda and all the hugs Cathilda gave him while his mother was nowhere to be found. He thought about how she sobered herself after his father died (his father, who he killed), and then left him.
He thought about the multiple times his mother said she loved him before she walked away into the night.
Fabian felt a tear suddenly stream down his face and now it was Fig’s turn to get him a tissue. There were only a few tears—thank God (Cassandra?)—but the embarrassment still flooded his cheeks, and he tried, and failed, to hide his face from her.
“Sorry,” he said, resignedly.
But Fig only shrugged. “Eh, it’s only fair, yeah? Two-for-two bedroom floor crying.” She turned his tissue into ash again, and then continued, “but if you really wanted to make it even, you could come cry in my room at Mordred!”
Fig said that with such earnestness that Fabian could not help but laugh, and Fig followed suit for a short, but sweet, moment.
When it ended, Fig leaned back, her hands on the back of her head, and Fabian did the same.
“God. What a day,” she sighed.
“What a day. What a year, even.”
“What a year.”
Fabian turned. “We’ll figure out what’s up with Gilear. Somehow, or someway. I—I promise.”
Fig smiled. “Thank you, Fabian. And we’ll…” she eyed him, “I really don’t know what we’re—I’m—gonna do with you. But, something. We’ll do something.”
He huffed a laugh, “Hey, I mean. Sounds fine by me. I appreciate it. ”
Fig replied with a quiet, but kind, smile, and leaned into his shoulder. She didn’t say anything following Fabian’s response, and he realized after a moment he felt content with that.
His house was massive, completely colossal, even, and no sound was being made besides the ticking of a large clock rooms and rooms away and the subtle sound of him and Fig’s breathing. But even so, it didn’t feel quiet. It didn’t feel suffocating, or isolating, a being much too small in a place much too big for their own good, but comforting. And though he wished they didn’t have to have gone through the gloom they experienced leading up to this, the quietude with Fig was simply… nice. Fabian needn’t not describe it in any other way.
He hoped she stayed. Either exactly here, or in the house in general. The things she’d given him to think about still felt like a heavy weight. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had no distractions, nothing to do besides his mind-numbing homework or doom scroll on his crystal.
He wanted company besides his own cacophonous mind, with its looming thoughts of his mother and her suitcase full of vacation goods. Or, company besides whatever the hell could possibly be going on with Gilear. Most likely, he’d ask The Ball about it sometime soon.
And if there wasn’t something weird up with Gilear, something that affected his personality or his willingness to go on that vacation, Fabian might just cause his five hundredth near death experience himself. He was never going to see Fig in pain like that again.
But surely, surely there was a tangible explanation. There just had to be.
He and Fig had sat there at peace for a good long while before Fig spoke again, stretching her arms above her head and leaning forward with a glint in her eye. “You know,” she started, “there is one good thing I’ve realized has come out of all this. You said your mom and Gilear are on their honeymoon, right?”
Fabian raised a brow. “...Yes, I believe so. Why?”
“Because,” she cheered, “you’re my brother now!”
Fig threw her arms around him and hugged him so tight, and Fabian only hugged her back with a considerable delay and another sudden bashfulness. “Oh. Oh! Um. Yes, that’s right, um, that’s how these things work, um. Yes!”
Fig gasped, “What, are you not excited?” But there was nothing but mischief in her gleaming eyes and grin.
“Well, uh, sure I am, but, my Mama and Gilear have already been together for—a while? And we’ve been friends for years? Uh—”
“Oh, but you don’t understand,” Fig threw her arms up, and released him from the hug to hold one of his hands in the air. “It’s about making it official!”
“Sure, sure, uh, but, also, uh—Fig, you’ve already been related through our parents to every single one of us besides Gorgug for a while. Actually, wait, yeah, yeah it is everyone besides Gorgug. How— how does that happen? How has this happened to you?”
Fig cackled like a madwoman and he just had to smile at her antics. “Two things, brother. I knew ever since I met Gorthalax that as long as I stuck to it my family was only gonna grow and grow—and because, well, it’s all in a day’s work of having three parents who all have incredible charisma.”
Fabian grimaced. “...Incredible charisma? All of them?”
“No! D on’t say that! I know it’s a little awkward to say this now because of what happened literally yesterday but Gilear has been in such a good place recently and I will not let you be so mean to him!”
He thought he would be at the mercy of her pointing out the next bombshell, but alas, he was not. Fig gasped again and covered her mouth, “Oh my God. He’s your dad now, too!”
“Stop! Stop! Stop! Do not— no! We’re not doing this!” Fabian stood up but his protests were useless, as Fig tackled him into a headlock as she continued to cackle maniacally.
“Fig—no! No! We’re not—that’s not happening! I don’t care what the legality of it all says, he can be my father if I say I say he is my father! And I am not going to say that!”
She tightened the headlock and feigned hurt in her voice. “ Gasp! So am I not your sister unless you say I am?”
Fabian paused. “Um, you—you can, no, it’s—it’s not like that. You—um, you can be my sister.”
Fig seemed to ponder his response, then let him go. “I’ll take it,” she said, satisfied.
Their conversation found a short pause and she scratched the back of her neck, averting her gaze ever so slightly away from Fabian, but her smile wide. “And, I mean… all jokes aside… I did always want siblings when I was growing up. I pretty much got my sisters already, so… I’m happy I finally got my brother.”
“Oh. Uh, well… I’m, um, happy for you as well. Or, I’m happy too, I mean! But, uh. Yes, you—you understand what I mean. This is… this is good. I think this will be really nice.” His words all felt extremely useless, but the utter glee on Fig’s face truly was warming to him.
And, well, he was Fabian Seacaster. The thought of wanting siblings never even occurred to him while he was growing up. But he couldn’t say having Fig as a sister, even if through only legal bindings, didn’t sound, in technical terms, cool as hell.
“Hell yeah to that, man.” Fig rested a hand on his shoulder.
“What about The Ball, though? Because of Sklonda and Gorthalax?”
Fig waved her free hand, “A fair point to bring up. But I say let my pops work his magic. You gotta let these things happen naturally. And then! When Sklonda and Gorthalax get married you’ll basically be Riz’s brother too because I’ll be both of yours’ sister!”
“I don’t think that’s how that works? Literally at all?”
“Don’t be such a pessimist. You’ll understand what I mean when it happens.”
The joyful air hadn’t gone anywhere, but with that lull in conversation Fabian detected the slightest hint of a finality, and Fig shifted ever so slightly, and he realized she might be thinking about leaving and his heart dropped to his stomach.
“Uh—do you want to stay over?” he rushed out.
Fig tilted her head, a slight worry coming over her face for a short second before it either subsided or she successfully hid it. But honestly, that was fine. Things were pretty alright overall so Fabian would take that, that was fine. “Sure,” she said, to his relief. “Why not? But I like, really should do the homework I have, or else Riz will be really mad at me.
“Or else you’ll probably get expelled.”
“...Yeah.”
“That’s alright though! I obviously have homework, too, um. You get all that, uh, set up, or, do whatever you need to do, you can do anything you want here, it’d just be nice to have you, uh, stay the night, and such, is all.”
“Of course, of course! I’d love to. As long as you don’t mind lending me some of your pjs. And, oh it’s only fitting, actually! Cause we can use today to celebrate you being my brother!”
Fig utterly beamed, and Fabian hoped she could see how he, in truth, felt the same. “Okay, okay, sure, alright! Um—oh, I don’t think I have anything for a party right now, per se, oh, wait, I have music, kind of. Do you, um, would Happy Birthday be a fitting song for this?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh. Um—”
“Wait, hold on, let me go call my mom and Kristen and Adaine real quick!” Fig scampered into the hallway, leaving Fabian at the mercy of not having to explain all that to her, but she popped her head in one more time before she made the call. “Or, hey, do you wanna come sleep over at Mordred.”
“...Oh.” Fabian blinked. “Um. If you really want to? But, uh, I don’t know, I was planning on just staying here, I could like, find some movies for later or something if you want, too, you know? Uh—”
“Yup, that’s fine! We’ll stay here, then.” Her eyes gained a softness to them, her mouth in a small smile. “But Mordred is always open for you, you know that, right? We’ve got more than enough room, Ragh’s there, my mom and Jawbone and Lydia would love to have you. Like, you don’t even need to tell us, you can just show up anytime, honestly.”
“Sure! Sure, yes, thank you. But I’ve, ah, got to keep the party house occupied and in tip-top shape, don’t I? Can’t let all the hype here go to waste!” He ended his words with a short, awkward laugh, only realizing how awkward it was when Fig just kept smiling.
“Sure dude, I get it. You do what you wanna do! But just know that we’ve already got a room and then some open for you.” Then she disappeared into the hallway, and Fabian heard her on the phone from far away as he got out his homework, and a few minutes later Fig joined him to do the same.
Things were good. But Fabian still could not shed the thoughts of his mother, no matter if he consistently tried to tell himself he’d grapple with all that later. Of her and Gilear, of him growing up with her, of the wine glasses that would fill the sink. Or of just Gilear, the strangeness in his voice, the image of him leaving for so long without saying a word to his daughter who loves him so much, that he had worked so hard for, without even saying a single thing to her.
The uncertainty was less than desirable. He hated the way it made him feel—small, lost, listless. But for that evening, every time such a thought bubbled into his head Fig would snap him out of it with a loud laugh, a clever comment, or a giggle at an incomprehensible joke that maybe even Fabian hardly understood. But if she came up with it, then no matter what, it was hilarious.
They finished their homework, went on a sleuthing mission through his house for food, watched a shitty movie, then another, and Fabian didn’t even realize they had fallen asleep until they both awoke on the couch next morning to the sounds of their crystals shouting at them to wake up for school.
Soon enough she had hopped onto the Hangman behind him. Fabian thought back to how tense and uncomfortable she was on the Hangman yesterday, and how relaxed and at ease she was today. She was a fantastic source of warmth, in the slight autumn chill, and he figured wouldn’t mind doing this all the time.
Before they walked into Aguefort, Fig gave him a hug. A hug less chaotic than their hug yesterday, but warm and comforting all the same. “Thanks again, for, well, everything. You’re the best, dude.”
Fabian hugged her back. “Anytime. Now, please actually go to Bard class.”
The previous evening was one of the best evenings Fabian had felt he had in a long while, and it was all thanks to her. One of the members of his incredibly powerful adventuring party, one of his best friends, and now, apparently, his sister. Or, step-sister, as the law would call it; but if there was one thing Fabian knew he did not give a single shit about, it was the law.
So somehow, someway, Fabian and the Bad Kids would find out what the hell was up with Gilear. That was a promise. Fig deserved an answer more than anything else in the world, and Fabian would make sure she got one.