Work Text:
Riz had let her know he was at his office when Sklonda had prompted. Writing essays, he’d said when pushed. It’s 12am. He’d ticked all of his essays off the list stuck by his bed last night. She sighs, tossing her briefcase onto a kitchen chair. Of course he is, she didn’t really need to ask. High heels slip off to be replaced with beat-up blue trainers—their laces haven’t needed untying or tying for years—and Sklonda’s in the hall locking the door behind her and sliding her keys into her slacks pocket alongside her quick-grab notepad Riz had gotten for her birthday to match his.
There’s no one else in the lift at this time. It trundles down, cables clicking as she passes the third floor as they always do. The doors open at the bottom with a start as though surprised by moving, as they always do. The car takes a few turns of the key before the engine realises and the pistons disgruntledly whir to life, as they always do.
Aside from the flickers of a rogue streetlamp she’d noticed on the way home, the world is still. It’s sleeping, as Riz should be.
Sklonda yawns, lips curling around her teeth. She’d be sinking into bed right now if it wasn’t for Riz’s gods damn friends. They’re good kids, she has to suppose: they care about the world. Selfless on the large scale, not so much on the small. Unfortunately, her job isn’t to worry about the large scale when her son is the small.
Sklonda pulls into the parking lot. The handbrake groans, and it sounds like her brain. She pulls her pass for the building out of the glove box. Streetlight slumps over still rain on the tarmac. The front doors click open.
Incredible. The lift’s out of order. Exhaling through her nose, she makes her way up the stairs. The lift isn’t the Bad Kids’ fault, she knows, but it’s late. Maybe she should move him schools. No, he’s only got another year after this. It’s silly, wishful thinking. They won’t be able to keep up when Riz goes soaring in a year anyway, she just wishes she didn’t know how it would break his heart, even if temporary. It’ll be for the best that they fall behind him. They’re all tearing him up while they’re around. He deserves better than any of them.
“It’s me, Riz,” she calls as her spare key clicks in the lock.
“Hi, Mom,” he says. He doesn’t look up as she opens the door. He’s hunched, shoulders tight, over his desk. Three mugs sit beside him. An empty tub of ice cream is discarded on a pile of paper. There’s another in the paper bin. Huh.
His eyes are alert, but dark purple hangs under them. His hair is tousled—he’s run his hand through it a hundred times. His jaw is clenched as it does when he concentrates, like it always has. Pok’s had been the same.
Sklonda shuts the door behind her. “Riz—”
“Hang on,” he mutters, looking up but not at her. “Do you think this sounds enough like Fig?”
He chucks a piece of paper. It drifts pathetically to the ground a foot in front of the desk. Sklonda frowns. “W—”
“Let me finish proofing this or I’ll lose my place.”
Her head snaps round. Slumped into the beanbag in the corner is Adaine, eyebrows knitted as she squints at the paper she holds inches from her face. She’s gripping it like her life depends on it. Bags identical to Riz’s are under her eyes.
Sklonda bends down and picks up the paper thrown by Riz. He holds his hand out for it. She ignores him. “Riz Gukgak, you cannot be doing this again. Kids struggle enough with one round of homework, never mind six. Or—” she glances to Adaine, who she can’t tell if is avoiding eye contact or just incredibly engrossed.
“Three,” Riz says. “Sometimes two, Gorgug does his own quite a bit.”
Oh, Adaine…
That’s better, she supposes, that at least he’s not alone in doing all of the group’s essays.
She takes a deep breath. It’s not Adaine’s fault if the others are loading their responsibilities onto Riz.
Riz yawns widely. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Adaine’s face scrunch awkwardly.
Their faces are too soft-featured to have such exhaustion woven so deeply into them. She looks at Riz. “Whether it’s six or three or two, none of those are the amount you should be doing.” She glances at the empty ice cream tubs again. “I’m glad you made a stop for a treat, but you also need sleep.”
She glances at Adaine pointedly. “Both of you.”
Adaine gives her a sheepish smile.
Riz pipes up, “We always have ice cream. Adaine brings it from work.”
Any frustration she still had towards Adaine for not having an equal amount thrown on her by their friends dissipates. She sighs.
“Bedtime. Let’s go.”
Riz huffs. “Some of this is due tomorrow. I can’t.”
“That’s not your job, sweetheart.”
And Adaine finally speaks. “Go, Riz, it’s okay. I’ll finish up. I only need four hours' rest.”
“Not when you look like that,” Sklonda says before she has a second to wonder if she should be saying that to someone else’s kid. Oh well. “I meant it when I said both of you. Come on. I’ll drop you home, Adaine.”
Neither moves.
“Kids…”
“Mom, we can’t—”
Before he can finish, Sklonda has rounded the desk and grappled him. He’s light as a feather, as she knows. He doesn’t struggle. Adaine stares blankly.
“I don’t need to pick you up too, do I?”
Adaine smiles softly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, getting to her feet and gathering up the papers strewn around her. Sklonda smiles back.
Riz yawns again in her arms.
“Right. Come on, then.”
Riz gets down at the top of the stairs to scamper unsteadily his own way down.
Adaine almost stumbles more than once. Each time, Sklonda instinctively jerks her hand out, but Adaine’s holding the rail, and she’s fine. She’s grateful for how nimble Riz is on his feet.
Both kids get in the back of the car. She doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know Riz is asleep within a minute, his snores filling the car. She looks anyway, though. He’s slumped against Adaine, who’s sat up so straight but very clearly struggling to keep her eyes open.
Sklonda has made the drive to Mordred tens of times, so it’s easy even in the dark, though she debates circling around to put off needing to wake Riz.
But she doesn’t. She pulls into the gravel driveway, up the hill. There’s a single light on in the kitchen, and she wonders who’s in there but doesn’t dwell on it. Twisting to face the back, she smiles at Adaine. “Thank you.”
Adaine’s brain looks like it’s slowly whirring, forehead creasing with the effort of it. “…You’re welcome..?”
Sklonda nods and watches as Adaine attempts to manoeuvre her way out of the car without waking Riz. She doesn’t succeed, of course, and so she murmurs a ‘goodnight’ to him. He nods. “See you tomorrow.”
And off she pads up to a window, Misty Stepping inside.
Sklonda starts the car and reverses, looking over her shoulder. Riz’s head lolls against his chest. He snores. Good.