Chapter Text
The chair groaned alongside him as he shifted, back sore after far too many hours slouched over. Glancing at the clock on the board, the analog read 3:17. Iridescent dials, buttons, and slides glittered across the board in front of him, and a vinyl player whirred, an old jazz tune hardly able to be heard playing quietly as he leaned back. Hopefully she isn’t much later than she already is, he thought, bones and joints aching with his shift in posture. Even as the thought ran through his mind, the chime on the front entrance tinkled and the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled, and thoroughly soaked, woman. A small grin appeared on his face, a chuckle spilling out of him. He (finally) stood from his rickety chair, and left the small, windowed room he’d been sitting in.
“And just what happened to you?” he asks, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the lobby to meet her, drawing his wand. “You look like a drowned kneazle” he said, muttering a drying charm as she shivered from the cold. “You aren’t the replacement I was looking forward to tonight either. What happened?”
“Jen decided to take a shortcut through a cloud,” she squeaked, teeth still chattering. Her dark, curly hair bounced as she shook her head. “I don’t know why. She said I wouldn’t make me late to work, but didn’t say anything about freezing me to death flying through a cloud in the middle of the night, I guess. That’s not why I’m here though.” She walked into her office, settling behind the desk that takes up the bulk of the small side room. Fiddling with a stack of old papers, she muttered. ”I needed to talk to you.”
“Yeah? What’s up, then?” he asks, hopping up to sit on her desk. She rolled her eyes, exasperated, but doesn’t say anything. She sighed.
“I’ve…. I’m moving back home. To Europe. England, specifically. To another studio.” She grimaced, clearly tongue tied. “England and the ministry have had a go of it, after all they’ve been through the last year, and they offered me a position as head of a British studio that…lost…quite a few members after everything that’s happened. They want me to recreate the success we’ve had here and try and build a community to help heal us after the war” she says flatly, before taking a deep breath. “Thomas, I know it’s sudden, but I didn’t want to leave you high and dry by yourself trying to run the station. I asked one of the other directors to find someone to cover my position for WHIZ for a few months until they can find a proper replacement for me. I’m supposed to head back home after this week ends, well before my original contract was supposed to end but...” She folds her hands in front of her, before immediately running them through her hair, anxiety clearly coursing through her. “I couldn’t give up the opportunity, Tommy, it’s such a big leap for my career an-“
“Kait, I’m not mad.” Tom cuts her off, then looked at her guiltily. “Sorry. I know you’ve worked up this big speech about how upset you think I’m gonna be that you’re going off back to Britian, and probably for good, but really.” He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m happy for you. I get wanting to go home. Merlin knows I don’t get back enough as much as I should.”
Her eyes swam with tears as she leapt out of the chair and embraced him, choking out a sob. “Oh Tommy… I didn’t want to go, but I’ve been gone too long as it is. Mum is getting older, and with Dad so sick who’s going to take care of her? I don’t…” She sobbed again, wracking her body. “I didn’t know what to do so I just went for it, I made the decision right when the department head asked me if I would transfer back. My parents don’t have much time left, so…” He pulled her closer to him, letting her grieve for what was to come for just a moment, gently rubbing soothing circles into her back. Hiccups and tears streamed out of her. “I’ve got to go be a good daughter and take care of them, squib or not. I can’t leave them alone.”
Tom nods. So, that’s the real reason. Can’t really blame her. “Kay, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to take care of your folks. The new station back in England just gives you that opportunity. Don’t feel bad about that. It’s just the next great adventure, yeah?” She looked up at him, a small smile on her face, before she choked up and the tears start to flow again. He pulls her into another hug, squeezing her. “I know, I know…”.
He’ll miss her. Kaitlyn had been a huge part of his life since she brought him on as a trainee deejay at WHIZ, the bridge wizarding radio station that covers the area between the east and west coasts of the continental US that the other major stations didn’t care to claim. Teaching him how to spin endless magical vinyl for the masses, building his radio voice and repertoire, and listening to Tom’s endless hopes of becoming the next big Quidditch play-by-play commentator. She’d done a marvelous job, and not just in making him a passable deejay. Even as a squib from an entirely different country, and with little experience in magical radio herself, Kait managed to hold her own and create a powerhouse of a station in the last three years, building listenership across the midwest, and making WHIZ the best place for new and upcoming magical bands to stake their claim. Not to mention the time they spent together outside of the studio, at live shows they’d traveled for, muggle film, music and food festivals (she’d irrevocably changed his vocabulary just by saying ‘no-Maj’ felt prejudiced against squibs), Quidditch games, art exhibitions, and so much more. They had become the best of friends.
Her leaving for England, permanently, would change all of that.
His eyes stung.
“How are you planning to get back? Figure a plane but you’ve got a ton of stuff stashed in that apartment of yours.” Tom laughs lightly, forcefully blinking away a tear or two. Not that he’d admit to having them. “Not sure how well my undetectable extension charms hold up at altitude, but I’m sure we can make it work. Can guitars even go in those bags? The neck might break with all the junk you’d have”
Dabbing her eyes, Kait leaned off and looked up at him, scowling. Even with him sitting on her desk, she’s still shorter than Thomas by quite a bit. Not that it makes her any less scary. “It’s not all junk! You gave me half of it, anyway. Who even needs a self-tuning kalimba that sounds like a cockatoo?” She grumbles, before looking up at him. “I…was hoping you’d portkey with me? Apparition is too dangerous as far as England is from here, and the Ministry had already arranged a portkey from Fallscrest to Ilvermorny, and from there on to my parents’ cottage to make things easier for me. Robert asked if you wanted to travel to England to meet your new station operator, and I said yes.” Kait shrugged guiltily, a watery smile with fresh tears forming. “I thought you might want to see a new station, get some fresh ideas… and I might have wanted to spend some time together before we break the greatest duo ever up.” Kaitlyn sniffed. “If you don’t want to go, I can tell them you’re too busy if you like?”
Tom smiled, pulling her into a hug as she tried to keep from collapsing into a fresh wave of tears. “I’d love to. You know me best, Kay; I’ve always wanted to go to England! I bet you all have some great magical bands out there. Oh, and fish and chips! Does anywhere in Hogsmeade even make fish and chips, or is it just a muggle stereotype? I’m going to call them fries anyway, that’ll be such a fun nuisance. Does wizardkind like soccer over there? I know hosting both World Cups here was huge for my dad but-“ He continued rambling on about nothing as he knew she expected he would, trying to make her laugh. Thomas was just enjoying holding her close for what might be the last time… and trying to keep utter heartbreak at bay. Just a little while longer, then.
* * *
Kaitlyn had left the studio before too long. With an apartment that needed to be packed and a lack of magic, things were a bit more difficult than they rightfully should be, and she’d need the extra time to wrangle the odds and ends scattered across her apartment. He’d head over after his shift ended and help pack up the rest of her things before she left on Friday. The time could’ve been better spent together, he thought, queuing up another vinyl on the third record player. He shrugged to himself. She never outwardly complained about it, Tom knew, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was unfair. Why should he, a halfblood from the near magicless midwestern United States, have any more ability with a wand than a pureblood from one of the most magical countries in the world? Fairness was a foreign concept in genetics, he supposed. Random luck of the draw. Not that that would ever stop Kaitlyn Tofty, he snorted.
As the last notes began to fade, Tom looked at the clock. 7:53. He’d started his shift at midnight and had just enough time for one more song. He paused, flipping through a few dozen vinyl covers before selecting one with a violent looking ocean throwing a mermaid across its surface. An advertisement for Brewster’s Magical Brewery (Hank Brewster’s career must have been chosen the moment his mother gave birth) rattled on about their newest Dragon’s Breath Bourbon sale as Tom casually waved his wand, sliding the last vinyl of the show into place and setting the boom arm down on the second song of the album.
Tom clicked the microphone’s button, turning the volume up with the slide, before speaking smoothly: “And that was Witches These Days by the Common Canadians! Many thanks to them for slinging us their newest record, The Human Animagus, just in time for the summer. If you’re love them as much as I do, you’ll be glad to hear they’ll be touring the states for the first time in a few weeks in August, so whether you’re listening from Ilvermorny, Fallscrest, Charmbridge, or Andropogon, they’ll be playing near you! Up next, stay tuned for Rocky Chriss’ ‘Quidditch and Camping Kits’ coverage, where the upcoming American Cup will be discussed alongside the best practices for those attending the Cup. Wouldn’t want to rehash when the Detroit Dragonflies lost in the finals of ’88, would we? Ha-ha! But before Rocky takes over, I’ve got one last song for you: This one goes out to WHIZ’s manager Kay Tofty, whose last show will be later this week. She’ll be heading back across the pond to help out the English Ministry and their expanding post-war radio program, so give her a call this Thursday during The Witching Hours and let her know you’ll miss her! I-that is, we, know we all will. Here’s I Don’t Think About You, by The Selkiads!” He clicked the microphone off, listening to the delay on the radio as it went out to the wizarding world.
Life was about to change.
It already had, once.
He pressed ‘play’.
* * *
And who am I kidding?
Oh, Merlin
Cause I,
Always think about you.
I do it on the daily
And everything you do,
It still drives me crazy.
Yeah, I still love you,
And everything you do,
It always drives me crazy
But Baby I love you
Even after you’re gone.