Chapter Text
You take a deep breath in. A nice breeze cools your skin as you stretch your legs and raise your arms far above your head to pop your shoulders. You feel a sharp twinge in your hip, but it's worth it for the way your joints loosen up with a satisfying pop. There’s a familiar sound of chattering behind you as two sets of limbs attempt to clamber out of the van at the same time. You take a look behind you, the sounds of deep laughter and squeaky swears warming your heart.
You’re met with the faces of the people you’ve been traveling with for the past while now. They all came into your life quite suddenly, snatching you out of the mediocre life you were living and leading you into something new. Something softer, warmer. Something like home, even when you sleep in a different bed every few days.
Odile is the first one to emerge from the back seats of the van. She moves with a type of stiffness that seeps into one’s bones and lingers even after stretching. You always tease her about it, being a good bit older than the rest of your travel group. She always tries to seem unamused by your pestering, but the smile lines around her eyes betray her each time.
Mirabelle is next to climb out of the van, having stayed in the passenger seat for a moment to set up the directions to your next stop. She was very adamant on handling navigation when she had learned how horrible you are at remembering directions. Shortly after you first met her, you had told her that you go where the Universe takes you. She only gave you a nervous glance in response, and has consistently kept a GPS app open at all times. She brushes a few creases out of her long skirt as she stands, and is the first to make a beeline for the small convenience store attached to the gas station you had stopped at.
Amidst the play-fight to be the first out of the van—of which both had failed anyways—Bonnie was the victor. They raised their fists in the air with a satisfied ‘hah!’ as Isabeau followed close behind them and slid the door closed. Instead of idly stretching like you and the others, Bonnie took to running circles around the van as Isabeau chased them around a couple times. Their sunhat would have blown right off of their head with the running combined with the breeze, if not for the strings tied below their chin. It reminded you of the day you all met Bonnie, running wild and free on the shoreline of a beach as their sister watched from a distance. You wish Nille could have come on this trip, too. You miss her. You should remember to send her a postcard once you get to the hotel.
After three laps of chasing after Bonnie, it seemed the stiffness got to Isabeau too. He keeps to watching the preteen burn off their wound up energy rather than participating. He stands near the gas pump almost like a protector, a guardian watching over his own kin. The sight makes something warm stir in your chest, something you can never seem to put a name to each time it happens. Isabeau’s stance is similar to the way you remember him standing by all those months ago, lingering by a register waiting for Mirabelle to finish buying whatever snacks she had in hand. Arms crossed, eyes alert, yet relaxed in a particular Isabeau manner. You didn’t pay much attention in the moment, but your mind clings to that memory as you travel with him. That image of him standing, waiting, guarding. For some reason, you cling to that memory with your entire soul.
As you make your way towards the pump, Isabeau meets your gaze with a grin. He has a plastic card in hand. You raise a brow.
“Gas,” he tells you. You don’t know what face you make, but it makes him laugh. You would much rather pay it yourself, even with your ever-dwindling bank account. You don’t want to be greedy. You don’t want to ask for more than you were already getting by having everyone around you.
“You paid for gas last time, now it’s my turn.” After a brief staring contest, you relent and step away from the pump. Isabeau beams, taking your place and getting right to work filling the tank.
“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” You can’t help but ask. Isabeau keeps his focus on the small screen on the machine, but his grin softens into something more delicate. Still bright, if not a little shy.
“I like doing stuff like this for you,” he mumbles. You barely catch it at first, but the words cause a small twinge to spark in your chest. It wraps around your lungs like wire, squeezing. Tighter and tighter until you feel like you might burst. Tightening, tugging, squeezing, hurting.
You smile back.
“Thanks, Isa.” It’s all you can manage to say. You know it isn’t nearly enough.
You turn your attention towards Bonnie before any more of that sharp, twisting feeling wraps around your bones. They’re sitting on the pavement, thoroughly wiped out from all the running. Their sunhat is now completely tugged off of their head, hanging on their neck by the still-tied strings.
“Frin.” They’re looking at you, now. Staring right at you with a gaze so serious that you find yourself worrying if something is wrong.
“Do you have games on your phone?” Oh.
With the most dramatic sigh you can muster, you unlock your old and slightly busted Motorola and let Bonnie snoop through it and find whatever kind of game piques their interest. Not like you have anything to hide on there, anyways. You hardly use the thing aside from taking pictures and sharing them in your travel posse’s group chat.
As Isabeau is closing the little hatch to the gas tank, Odile settles right back into her seat in the van. She has a small plastic bag in hand, with various snacks and a drink or two that she set next to Bonnie’s backpack on the floor. Seems like she had gone in with Mirabelle while you were distracted by Isabeau.
Distracted? Is that the word? No, you were more… focused on him. Not distracted. Isabeau is very easy to focus all of your attention on, but he isn’t distracting. He’s more like sunlight. Ever present, easy to acknowledge, but not quite distracting.
…Although, the sun can be pretty distracting while driving. If it’s in the right position. Maybe that was a bad comparison.
Before you can ponder a new metaphor, Isabeau is patting the side of the van like he always does as Bonnie climbs into their middle seat. You never knew why he did that, but it wasn’t bothering you enough to ask about. Isabeau had a few quirks like that. Patting the van, resting a hand on furniture when he moves through rooms, dragging the tips of his fingers against the walls of long hallways. The way he picks up almost everything he sees in gas stations, just to hold them in his hands for a moment. Like he’s taking in the texture of it, the weight, seeing if he likes the feel of whatever he’s holding. It was a strange fixation to you, but you kind of get it. Textures can be nice.
“Siffrin? Are you coming?” Odile calls through an open window. She’s smirking to herself as Bonnie sticks out their tongue, Mirabelle merely watching with a slightly confused smile. Even Isabeau has a brow raised in amusement.
…Ah. You’re the only one standing outside the van, now. The others are waiting on you. So much for your ‘not distracting’ metaphors. Maybe Isabeau is a tad distracting. Just a little.
“..My bad,” you mutter, pulling yourself into the driver’s seat and ignoring the dark shade to your cheeks in the rearview mirror. You catch a glimpse of Isabeau leaning closer to the back of your seat, his laughter a little softer than usual. Despite the embarrassment still simmering under your skin, you find yourself feeling a little less flustered.
“All buckled?” You stare at Bonnie through the rearview mirror, watching them grumble and click their seat belt into place. You turn your focus to starting up the van, once you’re sure they’re safe and buckled.
“How come you only ask me if I’m buckled? Why not Za?” Bonnie whined. You hear Isabeau’s laughter over the rev of the engine kicking to life. The familiar feeling of a smoothly purring engine brings you an odd sense of comfort.
“I’m not the one who nearly flew out the window once,” Isabeau deadpans. You don’t think they would have gone through the window, but the sentiment is warranted. You let the two’s bickering become background noise as you pull out of the gas station, giving Mirabelle a glance to make sure the GPS is ready. She gives you a smile and a thumbs up, and gives you the first set of directions.
You center your attention on the road ahead of you, the voices of your companions serving as a comforting white noise. Every now and then, Mirabelle will fiddle with the radio at Bonnie’s request. You can’t quite tell exactly what’s being talked about at any given point, only catching an occasional comment now and then that precedes Isabeau’s laughter. If you tune in a little more, you can almost feel the warmth of his hand that rests on the back of your seat.
(Turn right here.)
You enjoy driving, for the most part. There’s something nice about staying in motion, moving from point A to point B. You can hardly remember a time in your life that you haven’t been moving, haven’t been traveling. Your entire livelihood has relied on it for so long, you get antsy when you’re stuck in one place for too long. Despite not being quite as used to it as you are, your companions are fine with staying on the road more often than not. Still, you make sure to keep hotel stops in mind. Isabeau and Mirabelle wouldn’t mind being on the road longer, but Odile and Bonnie would have trouble with it for entirely different reasons.
(Left turn in half a mile.)
You briefly find yourself wondering what you’ll do once your current journey comes to an end. After all, you and your companions are only travelling together on the way to a convention. After that, there won’t be anything holding you all together anymore. You’ll probably bring them all home, one by one, see them off. Then what? You’ve gotten so used to travelling with company that you can’t seem to imagine yourself travelling alone again, even though you’ve spent more time by yourself comparatively. Will you really be able to go back to normal after this?
(Straight ahead, for the next three miles.)
Oh, who are you kidding? You’ll be just fine. It’s not like you have a right to demand everyone stay with you. You’re sure they have their own lives they would much prefer over being stuck living yours. Stars, Bonnie has a whole sister waiting for them back home! What kind of person would you be, refusing to bring a child back home to their sister? Not to mention Isabeau’s family, Mirabelle’s job, Odile’s research. They all have places they need to be. It would be selfish to keep them from that. You really need to learn to stay in your lane.
(In more ways than one. The driver next to you keeps swerving, just slightly. You veer a little closer to the shoulder of the road, just to be safe. Do not hit another car on Odile’s side. She would not appreciate that.)
You should appreciate this time you have with them all before it ends. Who knows how long you’ll be travelling alone again? They may forget about you entirely once this is all over. Sure, you all shared phone numbers, but you know first hand how little that matters in the long run. Even someone you speak to every day over text can lose interest and just… stop. You don’t know what you would do if that happened again, especially with them. You do know that you won’t embarrass yourself by being clingy. You can do that much, at least.
(Take this exit, then turn right—wait, was this the exit?)
“Ah– Siffrin, our exit was the next one…”
Stars.
“Sorry…” you murmur, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as you scan your surroundings. You’ll have to have Mirabelle find a way back onto the highway. None of the roads immediately nearby go the direction you need. Great, you managed to take a wrong turn somewhere it’ll be a pain to turn back around. Great job, Siffrin. You’re such a good driver, Siffrin. You blinding moron. Can’t even manage to pay attention to anything long enough to know where on this blinding earth you’re going. You’re wasting everyone’s time. You could have been pulling into the hotel’s parking lot by now if you weren’t such an idiot.
…It’s fine. You’ll just need to find a place to park while Mirabelle reorients the GPS. This is salvageable. Quit being dramatic. It’s fine. You’re fine.
You spot a drive-thru a little ways down the road. Screw it, impromptu pit stop.
“Chicken nugget time,” you announce. Isabeau and Bonnie cheer at the same time Odile sighs. You’ll get her a coffee as a peace offering.
“Chicken nug!” Bonnie yells. You can already hear the clicks of seat belts being unbuckled before you even get a chance to put the van in park. Isabeau and Bonnie are chanting back and forth, thoroughly annoying Odile. Mirabelle just giggles along.
This is fine. As long as they're all (mostly) having a good time. You can ignore your screw up for now.
You dart for the door to the fast food place, holding it open and giving Isabeau a half-hearted glare that you hope tells him that he won't be the one paying this time. You watch as he shakes his head with an amused look, his gaze so impossibly soft. Win!
“Do you want fries, Bonbon?” you ask, fishing your card out of your wallet. As you look up, you're a little put off by the lack of contactless order terminals. Crab.
“I got it. Is m'dame getting a coffee?” Isabeau—sweet, wonderful, amazing Isabeau—swipes your card right from your hand. You give him a nod, albeit a little shy, and he takes care of the order himself. Sometimes you really wonder how you made it so far in life like this.
Once the order is made, you give Isa a genuine smile. It seems to catch him off guard a little, his cheeks darkening just a tad. You can't help but think the expression looks good on him. You like all of his expressions, really, but this one is one of your favorites.
Your train of thought is interrupted by Bonnie making an exaggerated gagging sound. What are they ‘blegh’-ing about? The sound seems to snap Isabeau out of… whatever was happening in that head of his. He goes back to being all smiles, so impossibly bright. You raise a brow, but he only shrugs.
You spend a few minutes keeping Bonnie from messing with ketchup dispensers until your order is ready. You don't even hear the number being called, as caught up in the moment as you are. Not like you even knew what the number was. You didn't make the order, remember? Speaking of…
Does Isa still have your card? You check your pockets.
“Isa, do you—”
“Don't worry, I still have it.” Ah. Good. You make a mental note to ask for it when Isabeau doesn't have both hands full. Time to corral the child.
“Come on, Bonnie. Car time. Again..” The preteen huffs, finally leaving those poor ketchup dispensers alone and following you out into the parking lot. They grab onto the fabric of Isabeau's pants, staying close as the three of you cross over to where the van is parked. You trail a little ways behind them. You wonder why Bonnie never holds onto you while crossing a street anymore.
Once you get back to the van, Mirabelle has the GPS set back up and Odile looks thoroughly amused by something. She says something to Isabeau that makes his face nearly as dark as a beetroot, but you couldn't quite catch it. Odile is handed her coffee, Mirabelle is passed a small container of fries, and Isabeau begins splitting up the nuggets into three little clusters. You settle into the driver's seat, taking a deep breath. The hotel is only half an hour away. You can make it.
After you once again ensure that everyone is buckled, you take your nugget portion from Isa and balance the small cardboard box on the center console. You reach a hand back wordlessly, and Isabeau places a cup of barbecue sauce on your palm. You dip a nugget into your sauce of choice and eat it in one bite as a way of mentally preparing yourself to get back on the highway. With another deep breath, you start the engine and get a-movin’.
Isa and Bonnie's mutual chatter have quieted down now, with food in the equation. Bonnie still finds something to talk about, though, seemingly pointing at random things outside the windows and asking questions Isabeau pretends not to know the answers to. Even Odile joins in now and then between sips of her coffee. You swallow down another nugget in one bite.
The road in front of you becomes a bit of a blur. You aren't distracted or unfocused, not really, you just can't quite get fully out of your head today. The texture of the steering wheel under your palms fades a little, and you grip it harder. At least you have your companions around you, something familiar you can latch onto. Something to ground yourself with. This would be a lot scarier if you were alone! That's yet another thing you'll have to get used to again, once this is over.
You can't believe how dependent you've become after such little time. Just a few months ago, you were perfectly fine with wandering around all by yourself. Well, you don't think you were, not really, but you could live with it. Now you don't think you'd be able to go a day without these four, let alone the rest of your lifetime. You can't even remember how you would power through getting all fuzzy-brained on the road before. You'll need to fix that, and fix it soon. You can't depend on them all too much. Get a grip. Get a grip. Don't crash the car.
The rest of the drive seemingly goes by on autopilot. You took the right exit this time, thank the Universe, and Mirabelle seems very pleased. Yay! You're certainly happy to finally be done driving for the day. You can barely feel your hands. Everything you touch feels like cotton. You shove a handful of nuggets into your mouth. They taste like nothing.
“Finally, out of these seats…” Odile sighs. She properly stretches now, more than she did at the gas station earlier today. Bonnie looks up at her for a moment. Then, they mimic her pose, extending their left arm straight out across their chest and laying their right hand over their shoulder. Isabeau joins in the stretch party, mimicking Odile's leg stretches as well. On the final stretch, probably more of a method of cracking her back than anything, Mirabelle follows. You just watch them, still sitting in the driver's seat with your seat belt fastened.
Right. You should get out of the van now.
Your legs feel similar to your hands, with only the familiar jolt in your right hip offering any reprieve from the layer of static coating your nerves. You shake yourself out a little, not trusting your coordination enough to effectively stretch. Just be normal. You can be a functional human being long enough to get to the hotel room.
“Hey, Sif?” Uh oh. Act normal! Nothing is wrong!
“Isa?” you chirp, a little too cheery. Isabeau is looking at you, still smiling despite his slightly furrowed brows. He's onto you.
“Are you… doing okay? You seemed a little distant for a minute.” For a moment, you just blink at him. How are you supposed to respond to that? ‘Oh yeah, no worries, I was just dissociating in the middle of the highway!’ You'll sound crazy!
“I'm fine. Just zoned out, I guess,” is what you settle for. Isabeau's smile falters, leaving a pit in your stomach. You shouldn't have said that. Idiot.
“You weren't zoning out on the road, right?” Isabeau presses, arms crossed and expression serious. You shake your head a little too quickly.
“No, no, just, uh– after.” You're worried that you weren't convincing enough, with the way he keeps that serious gaze. Eventually, his eyes soften. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
“Okay… But you're okay, right?” Stars, you can't handle hearing him so concerned, especially over you. You can only manage to nod, but that seems to be enough. Isabeau gives you one last glance before moving to help Bonnie tug their small suitcase out the back of the van. Mirabelle is out of sight, likely already inside checking in. Odile is standing near Bonnie, making sure nothing falls as they haphazardly drag their suitcase down to the ground. While Isabeau takes the last two cases in hand, Odile looks at you.
“Will you be needing your cane, Siffrin?” she asks. A part of you suppresses the urge to recoil. You shake your head with the most normal, not forced smile you can muster. Odile narrows her eyes, and takes the smaller case from Isabeau's hand. He doesn't bat an eye at the disruption. He merely waits for her to fish the folded up cane from the case and snap it closed again.
Against all thoughts telling you otherwise, you take the cane and unfold it. Sure, it helps, but you really don't need it right now. Oh, well. You really don't want to argue about this with Odile again. Not with Isa's worried eyes already on your back.
You see Bonnie standing at the edge of the parking space, waiting with one hand reaching for Odile while the other rolls their suitcase across the pavement. Trying not to frown, you trail behind Isabeau. You ignore the way he slows a little while walking, making sure to stay next to you rather than ahead. You don't think about what it means. You wouldn't be able to handle the thought.
The walk to the hotel room passes by similar to the last 30 minutes of your drive here. You vaguely recall the elevator being a bit smaller than you would have liked. The five of you could fit just fine, it was just a little cramped. Then, the moment you blink, you're standing in front of a neatly made bed watching Isabeau prepare for a shower. You're at least present enough to slip your shoes off and fold up your cane before flopping right on top of the tucked sheets.
Isa doesn't say anything, but you do hear a soft clatter of something being placed on the little table right by the head of the bed. You glance up and—ah, he moved your cane. Put it somewhere you'll be able to reach easier without standing. How thoughtful of a thing to do for someone who doesn't really need it in the first place. You appreciate the sentiment, at least.
You spare Isabeau one last glance as he retreats into the room's bathroom, bundle of clothes in hand. The sound of running water soothes your mind. You let yourself really rest for a moment, breathing in and out. You close your eye, finally feeling the smooth yet slightly itchy texture of the sheets without a static buffer between your skin and the fabric. It's not the most comfortable currently, but you feel yourself dozing off anyway.
In the moments before you fall asleep, you think about how much you love your companions.