Chapter Text
The train jostled again, along yet another dent in the tracks. A couple of sunrays had managed to make its way through the cracks in the blinds, and it was warm, like on that day from his memory, sometime amidst June or July. It was somewhere around this time of year again, at the beginning of summer. This has always been when some things ended, and others began. It should've been then, that the years turned, Spoke had managed to convince himself. Summer, the time of change.
And yet, the air in the compartment was stagnant. Mapicc was sitting on the other side, arms crossed, earphones plugged in, althought the volume was too loud for others not to hear what it was he'd been listening to. Regardless of how unbothered he would've been if the train was full, it was only him and Spoke. Spoke didn't mind. He'd busy himself mindlessly staring somewhere into the distance, be it the rough floor, rusty walls, or the passing world outside the window. Unfortunately, the sunset served only to blind him as he tried.
The rays illuminated the room with a faint, orange glow, bouncing off tiny specs of dust floating around. By some miracle, the light completely evaded Spoke. It fell onto the metal door beside him, the back of their seats, and the edge of Mapicc's face. Spoke silently wondered how it was that he didn't even care it was all up in his eye. Surely, it must have been uncomfortable, like it was for himself; not burning, not scorching, but certainly obstructing a portion of his vision. He'd much rather follow behind the light, than face it. Especially after the long, long day they had just ended.
Mapicc must have noticed him staring. One of his earphones was hanging down by the wire and he was looking at Spoke with a raised eyebrow, albeit slightly amused. He must have said something just moments before.
"Uh, what was that?" A startled shake of his head and a quick shift in how he was sitting was all it took for Mapicc to notice he hadn't been paying attention to a single thing. He huffed, rolling his eyes.
"Asked why you've been staring," he shrugged, leaning his cheek on the palm of his hand as his elbow rested on the side of the windowsill. The train jostled again, which almost made it slip, but he'd managed to prevent his dignity from taking a hit if he were to let his forehead collide with the glass.
"Oh, that's, uh…" brushing a lone strand of hair from his face, Spoke looked down for a brief second, at their worn-out sneakers where they met the floor. "Nothing, really. Just… zoned out for a moment there."
"Yeah man, I can tell. If you didn't you'd know that's not what I said," Mapicc smirked, that typical of him expression brightening up his face more than the sun ever could. And Spoke couldn't help but huff out a laugh, less at this simplest act of trickery in itself, more at his friend's satisfaction that it hadn't been himself to fall victim to such, for once.
"Oh. That's how it is," Spoke lightly nudged Mapicc's shoe with his own, where they laid close to each other. "Care to tell? I'm not gonna be solving riddles for it, just so you know."
Mapicc was quite silly. He'd been learning from his friend's mannerisms, that was clear as day; he wasn't bad at it, either. A little trick here and there, spontaneously constructed when the opportunity arose. That's what Spoke did best, and it appeared so Mapicc did too — albeit Mapicc had never utilized his advantage the way Spoke would, so he'd noticed. He wouldn't carry on a tiny lie, not more than it was necessary.
"Dude, let me tell you I had such a riddle a while ago," and there he was about to go, on and on about the subject, as if it wasn't the most pointless thing in the world. It was somewhat endearing, really. "I tested it on Zam and she said it sucked ass."
"Oh, pfft. It can't have been that bad, I'm sure," Spoke tilted his head to the right, leaning in a little closer.
"Nah man, I'm saying it was great," Mapicc kept lightly pulling at the earphone wire with his fingers. The music was still playing, although a bit quieter. "But, eh, between the two of us, that's more of a you thing, so. Y'know. It was great because I stole it from your notebook."
And Spoke chuckled again, because he knew that so, so well. They'd always worked best when the idea was his own. So he didn't say a word, waiting for his friend to fill the silence.
"Actually, I've been meaning to ask how that work of yours was going," he admitted, eventually. There laid the single difference between them; Mapicc didn't have a tendency to withold information for long. Something Spoke couldn't really understand. "You haven't really said anything, and it sounds like quite a big deal."
"Uh, it's been fine," he shrugged. Right. The festival was still lingering in the back of his mind. He was supposed to meet up with Jamato the last he'd thought of it; he would have to give him a call about why he'd never shown up. "Why?"
"'Cause, eh," for a moment it seemed like Mapicc was trying to think of some excuse to dismiss the conversation, but ultimately decided against it. That checked out. He knew Spoke could see right through him. "Okay, well, I've just been… let's say hearing some stuff, here and there. Maybe… seen a bit, too."
"…What do you mean by that?"
"Oh my god, I mean that I've found the explosives you've been keeping in the closet," he finally said, bright expression dimming as he frowned. "And like, sure, live your dream, but a heads up would be nice."
So it was about the fireworks. Spoke had gotten them from Jamato a few days before, following Parrot's request for some "impressive visual effects" so he called it. For convenience — albeit he told himself it was for a lack of better option — he stored them in the common room; perhaps not the smartest move, now that he thought of it.
Alas, it was far too late to deny it.
"Oh god, yeah, I remember that," Spoke ran a hand down his face as if it was some enlightening revelation presented in front of him. "Sorry man, I was going to put them somewhere else, but then I got some important call and totally forgot."
There had been no call to distract him. He had no intention of moving them.
"I mean, it's fine and all," Mapicc quickly cleared his throat as he clarified. "But I was going to throw some lighters somewhere in there, and I really don't think we have the money to pay for getting half of the building blown up."
"Why the hell would you drop lighters in our closet?" Mildly baffled, Spoke reclined back as he straightened up.
"You dropped fireworks." his friend countered, returning his arms to as they had been crossed over his chest.
"…Okay, I did," he had no argument for that, truly. He did store counterfeit fireworks in the bottom of their closet, beside all the winter coats, and jackets, and empty cardboard boxes, and plastic bags containing some old trash neither of them wanted to speak about. Out of sight, out of mind, until it wasn't, because Mapicc found it out while he was never supposed to do that.
"Alright, it's whatever, I'll… I can put them somewhere else," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "There should be some space under my bed, or wherever."
"As long as it's not under mine," Mapicc shrugged, turning his head to glance out the window. The empty scenery made of seemingly endless fields was already fading, gradually replaced by the increasing density of buildings. Still, the sun hadn't yet disappeared beyond the horizon.
They sat in silence for a while, not even the echo of the music disturbing the quiet. It felt nice, even if a little awkward this time. It seemed more natural before, albeit nothing really changed throughout these few minutes, save for the recurring thought spiralling in Spoke's head; he has to see Jamato sometime soon. Or call him, at least, since texting typically meant as much as sending a carrier pigeon. Still, he judged it worth a try. One, quick text. There really was no other choice. Personally, he hadn't known a thing about the intricacies of firework systems, and wasn't exactly eager to blow himself up if he were to attempt to mingle with it — but he made a promise, so he had to handle it somewhat. And do it soon.
Because the last thing Spoke could've been called, was an unreliable liar.
"Are we going to grab some takeout?" Mapicc's voice suddenly sounded out, duller than before as he hadn't even bothered to look at Spoke, eyes still glued to the window. Right, they hadn't eaten since lunch, back when they were still in the city. It must have been a good five hours since then, judging by how they were already nearing their destination. The compartment had even lost its glow. "I'd kill for some shrimp right now."
"Yeah, uh, shrimp. Oh, shrimp sounds so good actually…" he mused as he reached into his pocket for the wallet. A quick glance through was enough to bring a frown to his face, which, in itself, was telling enough. "Well, I can pay for the drinks. If we order water."
"…Man, I was kinda hoping it would be your treat," Mapicc sighed, but rummaged through his pockets nonetheless. "I have two bucks, four paperclips, and a bus ticket."
"We could sell the paperclips."
"No way man, they're vintage," he objected, tucking them back into his jacket. "I found them behind the garage five years ago."
Spoke shrugged and it ended at that. His friend went back to looking out into the blurry world, counting buildings left before they reached the train station. He soon followed, finally peeking out from behind the blinds, seeing no need to shield himself from the sun anymore. It was hardly visible anymore.
"We're behind on rent," he thought.
"I know," his thoughts responded.
Again, it ended at that.
It was soon after that the train slowly rolled into the station. It wasn't anything grand, like the one they got off on in the city; one platform for each direction, on which there used to be five metal benches, but only three remained, rusty from the rain falling through cracks in the wooden ceiling. Between two of them, right in the middle, stood an outdated timetable everyone knew not to refer to when checking schedules. Most had it memorized, either way — morning trains to the city were always five minutes late on Wednesdays, and three minutes early on Saturdays. Every other day a freight train passed by, without stopping at the platform. And that was all Spoke cared to know of it.
The station was mostly empty at this point of day, save for the few passengers getting off the carriage alongside the two of them. Even then, they seemed to be in a rush, trying to leave the building as soon as possible; perhaps late for a bus, or eager to come back home after work. Spoke and Mapicc had none of that. They lingered around a little longer, watching nothing and no one.
Mapicc leaned on the edge of the timetable board, which wobbled dangerously, but ultimately didn't topple over.
"So no shrimp for us today?" He asked, only half expecting an answer.
"Nah."
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. He then said something else, and else, and else, but Spoke wasn't listening anymore. A notification lit up the screen of his phone, from a source he hadn't expected to hear. All of a sudden the world shrunk itself to that simple text, Mapicc vanishing from beside him.
"Ok." it read. Just that. Not even a "see you" at the end.
But it was fine. Jamato hadn't left Spoke standing at their last meeting spot for hours out of simply malice, or a sudden change of heart regarding their friendship. He must have simply been busy. That's what it was. That's why he graced him with a reply now, so soon after he'd sent it.
They'd see each other again and it would all be fine.
He quickly tucked his phone back into a pocket and looked at Mapicc again. His friend kept talking, all that time. It was a shame he didn't have anything worthwhile to say.
They left the station once the sky turned dark. The town was easier to navigate under the gentle glow of lamps, than the train had been to sit in with intense sunrays blinding with their light. Above all, it was still warm, as it had usually been in June. The ground hadn't yet gotten the chance to cool off from the afternoon heat.
Mapicc was still talking. It felt a bit strange, since usually it was Spoke who hoarded all the attention, but it wasn't bad. He didn't have to focus on the conversation, at least. A nod here and there. An offhanded comment. Mapicc thought he was listening, while Spoke thought of the meeting spot. A fair arrangement.
They passed the local football field, and the long closed food truck at the corner. If they hadn't taken this path a thousand times before, perhaps they would've gotten lost in the neighbourhood, somewhere on the third or fourth turn.
Taking a bus would have been wiser, had there been any available so late in the evening.
Still, it hadn't been long until they arrived at their street. The street lamps ended at the last crossroads, but it didn't really mean anything. Not when Mapicc was already opening the gate, doing his best to unlock the rusty mechanism inside.
Spoke glanced around, as if expecting to see see something in the darkness. Anything unusual; like the stars reflecting at the surface of the street. It rained earlier, he recalled. The sky was clear as if it never did.
A lone car drove by, splashing some of the water onto the pavement. The stars momentarily dissolved, before slowly wiggling back into shape. Mapicc didn't notice.
"Someone needs to fix this crap," he cursed, fingers reaching behind the metal bars to unlock it from the inside.
Spoke didn't care. He stared at the distant end of the street, where a lone lamp illuminated a bus stop. There, a silhouette. A silhouette he knew, albeit its appearance was unexpected; or, perhaps it was foolish of him not to expect it.
He'd read the text, after all.
"Uh, Mapicc, can you go ahead and open the door for me in a couple minutes? I've just remembered I got something to do," he quickly turned to glance at his friend, who'd finally succeeded in his ordeal, as the gate creaked open.
"What the hell would you have to do at this hour?" Mapicc complained, narrowing his eyes. "Couldn't you've gotten it done earlier? Or, like, tomorrow?"
"I know, I know, but it's a bit urgent," insistent, he moved half a step away. "It's, uh, job-related. You know how these things go."
It took a second before Mapicc sighed with resignation.
"Sure. Do your thing. But you'll be jumping over the fence when you're back, 'cause I'm not keeping this unlocked."
"Thanks man. I swear it won't take long," he promised, even if he'd already turned to make his way over to the bus stop. The silhouette hadn't vanished during the brief seconds he was looking away, but it hadn't been observing his doings, either.
Or maybe it was. He could never tell.
Jamato stood there, motionless, face hidden under a pristine, porcelain mask, hands intertwined behind his back. Waiting. Spoke walked up to stand beside him. Waiting, albeit for something else entirely.
It was by some strange intuition Jamato had always known when and where their paths could have crossed, and used that ability to his advantage. Spoke never paid it much mind. They'd known each other so long, so well, it couldn't have been a nuisance.
"So, you—" he finally spoke up, although it lasted merely half a second before he got cut off.
"I'm not going to do this with you, Spoke."
He blinked, once. Then twice.
"…Do what?" He inquired, expression falling.
"You know what. Those… damn fireworks I gave you," he sighed, lifting a hand to adjust the mask over his face. They both knew there was no need to; Spoke had seen his face plenty times over. "You shouldn't be touching those."
"…What?" He repeated, dumbfounded.
"It's no good for anyone. You're reckless, unpredictable, and it won't end well," Jamato shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. "I don't want to be involved."
That wasn't true. Spoke had never been "reckless", nor "unpredictable".
"You don't— You offered to help, what are you even talking about?" His brow furrowed, posture straightening up. "You said that you can help, that you've been doing this since forever, and now you're just, what. Backing off?"
"Yes. I want nothing to do with this."
It took a moment to sink in. And another. That's why he hadn't shown up the day before.
"Jamato, I— Look, there's no way I'm going to get it done on my own," he pleaded. "I don't know a thing."
"…It should stay that way," he muttered. "Forget about this whole arrangement. Get rid of the box, whatever. I can't be dealing with whatever catastrophe you bring with your hands."
"Literally what catastro—"
"Spoke. These are counterfeits," Jamato cut him off again. "It's just not going to go the way you want it to. It never does."
"That's why I'm asking you for help!" He gestured something incoherent with his hands. "You know this stuff, you're supposed to… make it work. You always do, always did. And you promised."
"...No. I want nothing to do with this."
And Spoke tried, he really tried not to believe it. But the statement was so blatant, so direct, he couldn't even bring himself to deny it; what a betrayal, from his oldest friend.
He took a deep breath, staring down at the pavement.
"…Fine. Fine, you go… get lost somewhere, as you always do. Don't know what your problem is, why you're suddenly… ditching me, and lying, and everything, but sure. It's whatever. I don't need you at all."
Jamato gave him a condescending look; he couldn't see his face, but he knew it was there.
"At no point had I lied."
Spoke huffed, rolling his eyes, because sure he hadn't, that traitor. Jamato gave him one last look before stepping away.
"Goodbye, Spoke. May you… see your mistake sometime soon."
Then he left, and their friendship ended at that.
Spoke stood in his place for longer than he intended to. He couldn't go to Parrot like that, nothing valuable in his possession. What would it even be he'd say to him? Oh, this was no good. None of it was any good.
But there was nothing he could do. It already happened, so it didn't matter anymore. He should go back to Mapicc, he figured. He'd probably been waiting, maybe impatient. Maybe he found something good for dinner at the back of their fridge. Maybe he had a hand for tinkering with wires. Maybe Spoke could ask him for help. He wouldn't deny. He would've never done that. It was Mapicc, his friend. Mapicc would have never done that to him.
He thought of the shrimp they were going to get for lunch the next day, and headed back down the street.