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They say you don't really know your partner till you've lived with them for at least a couple of years. So, yeah, it sounds stupid that Agustus once ran off with a guy he'd only just met, but how else was he supposed to get to the part where he learned what he didn't know?
Things he didn't know then, in order of increasing importance:
- Thomas is a loud snorer. Honk Mimi Mimi Shoo.
- Thomas is stupidly stubborn over the most ridiculous things.
- Thomas spends way too much time daydreaming about cowboys, and not in a sexy way.
Agustus wasn't thinking very clearly that day when he packed up all his belongings, grabbed Thomas, and shook the dust of Paradise City from his feet. But what did he have to lose? His campsite?
Okay, he does still feel sorry for his campsite. This evening, the shreds of his tent lie mouldering in a muddy puddle in the middle of an overgrown clearing. Meanwhile, Agustus is whispering soft nothings to the veranda of a sturdily built tree house overlooking the hillside farm and its lava moat.
His old campsite is a home spurned by its own creator, doomed to yearn hopelessly for his return. It’ll drive mad the unfortunate traveller who comes upon it in the woods. It’ll drain their life and soul until they rot into the soil where Agustus once spent his time bed-rotting.
Silly? No, this is a good idea. It'll make an excellent bedtime story for Timothy. The kid likes horrific tales like that. The gorier and the creepier the better. Forget Thomas and his “I don't think that's appropriate to a four-year-old’s level of psychological development.” Why even bother acquiring a kid if you don’t get to terrorize them a bit with the harsh realities of life?
If people don't do that, you know how you end up? You end up like Thomas, and there's only room in this world for one Thomas at the best of times.
At the worst of times, one Thomas is way too much, and yet here Agustus is. Seven years later and somehow not actually unhappy.
You'd be proud of me, Fortsy.
This isn't exactly the home he wanted to make with Thomas. It had been perfect after they'd left Paradise City, a honeymoon period: just Agustus and Thomas, together without any outsiders to disturb Agustus' happiness. Then one day, Agustus came home from hunting and found a random homeless family sleeping in their cabin. Thomas was grinning ear to ear as he explained he’d recruited new members for their community.
That day was the closest they’d ever come to breaking up.
But you can't have everything that you want in life. If Thomas had gotten his dream life, they'd all be living in a cult led by Mr. Flux. Instead, they have some neighbours who love and respect Thomas and know never to bother Agustus unless absolutely necessary. It could be much worse.
Then, there's Timothy. Because what Agustus really needed in his life was another vulnerable person to worry over. But Thomas had desperately wanted a kid of his own. So, instead of handing the orphaned toddler over to someone who knew what they were doing, Agustus has resigned himself to being as terrible a parent as he is a friend and partner.
You would laugh at me. And you'd be right. Keeping a kid alive isn't as hard as I make it out to be. I'm sure you would have been great at it, you could do anything you set your mind to. But I don't know if you'd have wanted kids. I never got to know you as the unc you'd be now.
Thomas' voice floated out from the snug little bedroom where their poor little tyke was listening to one of his Dad’s brain-rotting bedtime stories. Another von Kruger special, by the sounds of it
Thomas had been so enthusiastic about naming their son Timothy. It was a nice name! Didn't Agustus think so? Oh, he had thought so. He hadn't known Thomas was obsessed with Timothy von Kruger, a banker who allegedly made his money hunting down bandits and financing both sides of World War I.
Six years, they'd been together six years and Thomas hadn't mentioned the von Krugers once! But then, one day he started telling Timothy a story about the man he was named for, and it all spilled out. Being a hero of the Wild West was still what got Thomas out of bed every morning. (In retrospect, the bandana should have been a hint.)
That was Thomas for you. He'd thought he'd known him seven years ago. He was naive and sweet and caring, and Agustus had see-sawed between wanting to protect his optimism and rip it to shreds. But he'd underestimated how actively delusional Thomas was. The man lives in a fantasy world where he’s always the good guy in the white hat. He expects adoration from the people he saves. His passing fancies become important necessities, and he’s hurt if you disagree with him. He can't believe that you are being so selfish.
Is that fair? No, of course it isn't. But you have to let me vent now. You can’t exactly offer me a thoughtful alternative perspective. I used to know exactly what you'd say . . . But that was when you were talking to another me. I don't think you'd really know Papa Gus. I hardly do.
Agustus isn't unhappy, he's just become . . . uneasy. Maybe it's time to go exploring again. There's nothing like being alone to rediscover how much you want to be with Thomas. You can't get coffee in bed every morning in the wastelands. Actually, you can't get coffee at all in most places. Thomas has mastered some arcane multi-stage trade route to import large dusty tins of Folger’s Instant Coffee in exchange for vials of Doctor Lyra’s All-Purpose Curative. (If Lyra or Stella is still alive out there, they have a good case to come after Thomas for royalties.)
“KaBOOM! The bus exploded!” Thomas’ loud announcement intrudes on his thoughts. What sort of bedtime story - wait . . . wait . . . that bus?
On their way out of the city, Agustus had seen the pieces of the bus strewn across the freeway. And Thomas had cheered up when he saw that. Thomas had been happy to see that the bus and the bridge were destroyed.
Happy that no one else could be lured to the city, right? That's what he'd told himself then.
Timothy was mimicking the explosion sounds, as Thomas continued his story, “But everyone was safe! Nobody got hurt! And do you know why?”
“They all runned away from the bus!”
“Yes, you got all your friends off the bus. Because you're a smart cookie, Timothy, you knew exactly what to do. Do you remember what I told you about the gasoline?”
Timothy doesn't, so Thomas continues the story. “You found out that the bad guys were going to blow up the bus, so you stopped the bus first. You pumped the gas out. A bus can't keep driving without gasoline.”
No, it couldn't. A bus without gasoline would end up stranded on the freeway. It’d be a sitting duck for whoever came along to destroy it.
He's heard this story before. He's heard this fucking story before.
Agustus takes a step towards their front door, then decides against it. Time to flee. He should do some digging in the garden. It's a perfectly normal time of evening to till the soil. He isn't trying to avoid confronting Thomas. He certainly isn't trying to stop thinking through the implications of that crazy bedtime story.
Yeah, I'm a coward. You should know that by now. And look what it's got me! You'd have to approve! I'm a respectable citizen now! I have a real home and a family and I can wander around in the dusk with a big iron shovel and people just think I'm eccentric, not scary!
Wow, there's a lot of soil here to till! Tilling the fields, that’s what farmers do! They don't have to think about the secrets their partners might be keeping from them because they're so busy doing honest hard work.
“Agustus, are you all right?” Thomas has at long last come out to find him. It's too dark to make out his features but his tone is as concerned and kind as ever.
“I’m just fine. Look at me. I'm tilling the soil in the dark. You know how farming goes.”
“You're upset.”
“You know what? Yeah, I am.” He throws his shovel to the ground. “Why do I keep fucking pretending I'm okay? Because it would make you feel bad. And you don't deserve that.”
“Agustus, if you're feeling depressed again-”
Agustus cuts him off. “You're going to be understanding and supportive. I know. You say all the right things.”
“I don't just say them.” There's that hurt in Thomas' voice. It always makes Agustus sick to his stomach to know he's causing Thomas pain. “Just tell me what you need me to do, Agustus.” And then, when Agustus doesn't reply immediately. “Come inside with me, please.”
He lets Thomas lead him back to their house. And then they have to be quiet because a little kid is sleeping in the next room and he doesn't deserve to hear his dads fighting.
Do you think I'm overthinking this? No, probably not. You jumped to your own conclusions almost immediately. You didn't give me any time to explain, but I guess there really wasn't any explanation I could give you that would have changed your mind.
But Thomas?
Thomas is softly chattering away, pretending it's a normal night. But his hands shake a little as he pours Agustus a soothing cup of chamomile tea.
“Thomas, is this enough?” Agustus asks.
Thomas’ brow scrunches up. “There's more in the pot.”
“No, not the tea. This.” He motions vaguely around them. “This house, this village, do you need more than this?”
“You and Timothy are all I need.”
“Fibber.”
Thomas' cheeks flush pink. “It's true. If I lost everything else, I could rebuild if I still had my family.”
“All right, not really what I asked -”
“Literally what you asked,” Thomas says sulkily.
Agustus ignores that. “This is your dream, Thomas. You're the Lord of the manor, you have your own villagers-”
“They're our friends!”
“They love you, Thomas. Everyone loves you. But you know I don't fit in so well. I'm scared you're going to just keep building and recruiting and end up becoming a politician or something.”
“We have a duty to our community.”
“Our community? Do you know how uncomfortable I've already made myself to let you live out your dream?”
“Our neighbours care for you,” Thomas says stubbornly.
“I don't care if they do. I don't want them fussing over me, anyway.”
“But I can fuss over you, right?” Thomas pulls him into an embrace.
Well, that's unfair. This is how Thomas avoids hearing him out, it's so stupidly effective. You can't complain too hard about feeling left out of your partner's life if he's like this all the time.
Still, this isn't a good night, and he's annoyed with Thomas, no matter how well he cuddles and kisses.
“I heard your story about the bus.”
“I was running out of stories. Just borrowing a few things from our old adventures.” Thomas speaks carelessly, but he is suddenly very still, his hands resting against the small of Agustus' back.
“Kinda bad taste, don't you think? You didn't tell Timothy about the blood and the body parts strewn across the freeway.”
“There weren't any body parts!”
“I definitely saw a mangled leg.” He hadn't, but he wants to make Thomas squirm. “One of the bus drivers, probably. You said you never saw them again. They waited with the bus after it got stranded, right?”
Thomas lets go of him. “You know, back in college, I learnt there's a thing called Karma. They couldn't have been very good people if they drove victims into Paradise City for the sponsors.”
“So Karma killed them, not the person who made sure they'd stop there?”
“Agustus, I don't think I like what you're implying.”
“It's your story, man.”
“It’s a bedtime story, Agustus. That's all.”
The worst thing about this? Thomas could be telling the truth. Then, Agustus is the crazy one and Thomas is the long-suffering victim here. That's already how the neighbours think of them, isn't it?
There is not a hint of guile in those big brown eyes. Thomas holds his gaze until Agustus has to look away.
“I'm sorry,” Agustus mumbles. “I’m not good for you. You know that, don't you?”
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
You said that once too, Fortsy. But I proved you were wrong.
It's hard to believe again in something so preposterous. But Thomas chose him when no sane person would want his sorry ass. He chose him over the Hostel. It's been seven years and Thomas has never stopped loving him. So, he has to believe in Thomas, no matter what lies Thomas might be telling him. No matter what ghastly industrialized city Thomas plans on building. No matter how many times he starts on about Timothy von Kruger. No matter what happened to that stupid bus.
“I don't want to lose you, Thomas.”
Thomas brightens immediately. “You can't lose me. I'm an expert at sticking closely to my lonely grumpy Agustus.”
So he is.
This time Agustus welcomes his embrace.