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Dagda is exhausted. And he thinks Custas is as well. He’s trying, Dagda knows, to smile and not burden him anymore than necessary. Anytime Dagda tries to talk to Custas, he just waves off his concern.
“You’ve got money to worry about, Dagda! I’ll be fine!” Custas would say.
Yes, he has money to worry about. It’s running tight and the jobs he’s taking are getting more risky, more dangerous. He doesn’t feel guilty about that though. He has a son to take care of. If he can’t get a normal job because he can’t read, he’ll find other means to make money.
Custas disagrees though. It’s the one time the mask of his breaks. He’d cry out, folding into Dagda’s arms, telling Dagda to just leave him. To go somewhere else.
To summarize, the past few weeks have been hard. On both of them.
The main thing Dagda wants, most of all, is to see Custas’s happiness again. To see him smile wildly, genuinely when he comes home from work. It hasn’t happened yet, and it might not happen for a long time. But god damn it–he’ll work towards making it happen. For his son.
However, he’s surprised when the start of that happiness appears without him even doing anything. He enters the hospital, checks in, and heads up to Custas’s room. The sun is just starting to set, and as he opens the door it illuminates Custas’s black hair in a golden hue. He’s laying in bed, feet propped up and bandaged. His magical chair is off to the side.
He’s humming a tune though he stops when he hears Dagda’s footsteps. His face lights up when he looks up, propping himself up on his arms. “Dagda! Guess what!”
Dagda pauses, surprised. There’s a real lightness to Custas’s eyes, though his smile still looks fake, there is warmth there.
Dagda smiles, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He scoots closer, placing a kiss on the top of Custas’s head. “What?” he asks.
Custas crosses his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I made a friend today!”
Dagda tilted his head, curious. “Oh?”
Custas nodded, eyes sparkling. “I was using the chair and a bunch of kids came over, they were magic thieves!”
Dagda furrows his eyebrows with alarm, “they were trying to steal your chair?” He looks to the unharmed chair on the bedside. “Clearly they didn’t get it.”
Custas held up a finger, “see that’s where my friend comes in! They pushed me and the chair fell and one of the legs broke!”
Dagda notices Custas is not telling any of how he was feeling in the whole encounter, though Dagda imagines that Custas was quite upset, having his way to move and walk taken away from him. It saddens him to see that Custas refuses to open up about this. He wants to support Custas, though it’s hard if he doesn’t know what the boy is thinking.
Custas continues, “so the kids were going to attack me because they were pissed, and I mean pissed. But right before it happened, my friend came in like ‘I’m a witch! And if you continue there’ll be consequences!’”
A witch? Like the ones that saved Custas?
“He saw that the chair was broken, and came up and fixed it! He helped me up, going ‘By the way, my name is Tartah. What’s yours?’ And I went, ‘I’m Custas’. He was sooo cool, Dagda! I want to see if I can hang out with him again.”
It sounds like an adult. Please don’t be an adult.
Instead of expressing his worries about Custas hanging out with an adult male witch, he just says, “that’s great, Custas.”
Custas’s answering smile was blinding.
Custas hung out with this Tartah the next day. And the next. It was all he ever talked about. At first it was all about how cool it was that he was a witch. Then it was about how knowledgeable he was. Apparently he worked in a stantioners, so he had tons of knowledge on herbs and plants.
Dagda listened to it with a smile, still worried about who this Tartah was, but glad to see Custas smile genuinely and with stars in his eyes. It seemed like Custas really looked up to Tartah.
If only he could meet him.
Every time Dagda asked where he was, Custas shrugged, “don’t know. He comes to me. He left like 30 minutes ago.”
Dagda could only sigh.
After a week of Custas talking about Tartah, things get even more interesting.
Custas was writing when he entered the hospital room. Dagda paused on the threshold, staring. Really, he didn’t mean to, but also, Custas didn’t know how to write. Or read.
Neither did Dagda, neither did anyone from the slums. It was a part of life you learned to live.
Dagda walked over and sat on the bed. “Since when could you write, Custas?” He ruffled the boy’s hair, taking delight in the way he giggled and squirmed. “Even I don’t know that.”
Custas looked up at him, smiling. “Tartah is teaching me! Alongside with the local herbs and their prices, and all that stuff! It’s so much fun!”
Dagda was beginning to think that this adult male witch thought there was no one else for Custas which is why he kept coming back to hang out with a 12 year old. Hopefully.
Dagda smiled though. Even if it was a random adult pitying a child, Custas was having fun. Also, he was learning to read! He shifted closer, pulling Custas next to him to rest. He kissed the top of his head. “My smart boy, that’s amazing!”
Custas grinned, leaning back against Dagda’s chest. “Mhm! That’s me! Ultra smart Custas!” He looked up. “That way, with all this studying, maybe I can help! Help us get back on our feet! So you don’t have to worry so much!”
“Custas…”
Custas crossed his arms, moving his face away where Dagda couldn’t see his expression. “What? You’re here, ruining your life by staying here with me. The least I could do is help.”
Dagda held in his sigh. It would not help things right now to argue or be stern with this. He could be understanding though to his son.
“I know you want to help,” he started. “But all I want for you is to rest and to slowly get better. To hang out with your friend, Tartah. Let the money problems be for the adults.”
Custas huffed, clearly disagreeing. “Yet, I’m still the one affected too. If I can help, then it’ll go faster for the both of us. The fact that I'm helping is me getting better. It is me hanging out with Tartah!”
Dagda didn’t have a counterargument to that. He just sighed.
When he went to visit the next day, he was turned away from seeing Custas.
“What?” he exclaimed. “Why can’t I visit?”
Please don’t let anything happen to him. Please.
The woman sighed, “he went off with that friend of his! Going to hang out around the town now that he’s cleared to leave the hospital grounds.”
“Oh.”
A bit weird and concerning that Tartah was an adult man, but well…
Maybe Dagda should work on meeting the man before he judges what he’s doing with his son. Considering Tartah is teaching Custas to read.
Dagda is waiting in Custas’s hospital room when he gets back. His expression brightens when he sees Dagda, a mask filtering on from the previous blank expression.
“Dagda!” he says. “I finally went outside! He also told me about his house! It’s so cool! They have an entire tree in there! I didn’t know witch’s had basic jobs like making ink and all that, but apparently someone's gotta do that job somewhere, am I right? I thought he would be a full blown magic witch but he’s only starting his training to know magic!”
It was interesting to learn about witch society. Dagda didn’t know you could start learning magic as an adult. He thought it was intuitive, like something you always knew about yourself.
“That’s nice, Custas,” he says, lifting him out of his chair and onto the bed. Custas’s hands latch onto Dagda’s shirt as he’s situated comfortably into the covers. “Say,” he says, not sure how to start the conversation of maybe you shouldn't be going alone outside with a grown and also who is this guy??? to his already flighty son who has gotten his very first friend. He doesn’t want Custas to close off but also he is quite concerned about it. “What’s this Tartah look like?”
Custas hums and looks at the ceiling, “he’s kinda pretty, ya know, in that odd way people are sometimes. He’s got the shortest, curly, red hair and big gray eyes. His outfit is all green too and so is his witch’s cap. Maybe he’s my fated witch, ya know? Doing all these kind things for me without any payback.”
He’s kind of pretty. Oh god, oh boy. Okay so don’t freak out. Kids find adults pretty all the time. As long as it’s one sided it’s completely fine.
“Maybe he is,” is all Dagda is able to strangle out of his throat.
Two days later, when Dagda visited, Custas was in the room. It surprised him, considering that it was earlier in the day and Custas often hung out with Tartah right about now. He was curled up on bed, face smushed into his pillow. He didn’t raise his head when Dagda entered, just groaning and curling further into the bed.
“Custas?” Dagda asked, sitting on the edge, placing his hand on Custas’s side.
“Go away.”
“Can I ask why? Aren’t you supposed to be hanging with Tartah?”
Custas groaned again. “Everythings ruined with him.”
Dagda felt alarmed. How was it ruined? What could Custas possibly have done? He shifted closer to see Custas’s face. “What happened?”
Custas’s face was beet red. Ah. “It was so stupid! We were hanging out as normal and the ground was slippery and so I crashed, except I didn’t because he caught me. And it felt so nice and he was staring at me with those big silver eyes! My face heated up! I stammered! I never do those things! And he got so concerned too and I just ran away! Ugh!”
If Custas could kick his legs back and forth in frustration, then Dagda is sure that’s what he would be doing right now.
Dagda rubs Custas’s back, unsure what to do. How do you comfort a 12 year old with his first crush? How does that work? How does that work when the crush is a grown man?
Dagda really needs to meet Tartah.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he tries. “You’ll meet again tomorrow and it’ll be like you never ran.”
Custas sighs, face still red, “man, I hope so.”
The next day they meet up and seem to take a while to hang out. Dagda was able to take a job and clean off the blood before Custas got back to the room. He practically sprinted into the room, if for lack of a better word, with stars in his eyes.
“Dagda! Everything’s fine now!” Custas says, throwing his arms in the air. “I apologized for running off and he was like ‘It’s okay, Custas!’. And then I held his hand and his face got so red, it was so funny!”
Now it’s gotten weird. Even more weird. Adults should not be blushing at kids.
“Er–Custas?”
Custas pauses his rambling, from how more red Tartah got when Custas hugged him, and looks up at Dagda. He tilts his head. “Yeah?” he asks with a grin.
Please have mercy.
“I think I should meet your friend. You’ve been talking about him for weeks now, haven’t you?”
Custas pauses, then narrows his eyes at Dagda. “And you won’t embarrass me? Or tease me?”
Dagda laughs, “of course not. I just want to meet your friend.”
And lecture him not to be weird with kids like that. And that Custas has a father too, no need to pity the kid like that.
Custas shrugs, “yeah sure, then. He’s coming over with some books to read to me so you could meet him then.”
Oh finally.
Dagda nods, “I’ll be there then.”
Dagda makes his way to the hospital, walking in the brisk morning after his job. He managed to clean himself up. After all, he doesn't want to horrify the guy by coming covered in blood. There’s a kid in the doorway, holding a stack of books, trying to balance them. Dagda looks around, seeing no one help the kid. He sighed. Guess he’ll help him before going to see Custas.
“Hey, kid,” he says, coming over. “Do you need help with that?”
The kid looks around his stack of books, silver eyes locking with brown ones. “Aye! That’d be grand. Thank you, sir. I’m just trying to see a friend.”
Orange short hair and silver eyes…there's no way he was that wrong right?
If he was wrong, he would sing to the clouds. My son doesn’t have a crush on a grown man! He’s been hanging out with a boy his age!
“What’s your name?” he asks, just to check, taking some of the books from the boy’s hand.
“Oh! Well, I’m–”
He’s cut off with a familiar cry of “Tartah!”
The boy–Tartah–looks behind him only to get rammed over by an excited Custas whose arms are immediately wrapped around Tartah’s middle.
“You came!” Custas cried.
Tartah tries to stabilize himself, but fails, with the books toppling over. “Oi! Hey! Be careful!” Tartah scolds, though the effect is ruined by his red face.
“I was careful! You’re just clumsy!” Custas says.
“No, I’m not!”
“Yes, you are! Remember that time you tried to walk around me and fell right–”
“Okay!” Tartah cuts in, before turning to Dagda. “So sorry about that sir, my friend can have a lot of energy sometimes. You don’t need to help pick up the books.”
There was a moment of silence before Custas burst into laughter, shoulders shaking as he hid his face into Tartah’s back.
“I missed something, didn’t I?” Tartah said, turning around to Custas.
“Ha–you sure–haha–did! Oh man! Tartah, that’s Dagda!”
“Oh…Oh!” Tartah’s face turned more red, in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were Custas’s…Oi stop laughing! This isn’t funny!” Tartah pushed Custas off him, crossing his arms.
Custas tilted his head, smirking. “What? You flustered that Dagda saw me hug you, hm? Don’t be so silly, Tartah!”
Oh. Oh!
It was Custas leading the flirting the whole time, then.
Watching them interact made Dagda feel warm and happy. Though Custas may never have a smile come easily to him again because of the accident, seeing him laugh genuinely and have a smile and a blush on his face, made the worry of this whole situation worth it.
Dagda sat in the chair, watching them work while in the hospital room. Tartah had set the stack of books at the end of the bed, while Tartah propped himself up by the pillows, Custas burrowed in his chest. Tartah was reading aloud the book, at some points encouraging Custas to read along with him. It was so cute, with Custas looking up at Tartah with barely constrained adoration.
Soon time passed and Tartah ended up falling asleep, kept there and warm under Custas’s weight. The two of them–father and son–sat in silence for a while before Dagda broke it.
He felt himself grin, “so gorgeous red hair and silver eyes is your type, ey?”
Custas’s face got so red so fast as he whisper-shouted in outrage, “Dagda!”
Dagda laughed.
He hoped they stayed friends, even if one day Custas and him become travelers again. After all, meeting people more than once on your travels was fate, was it not? They seemed like the fated kind of friends, anyhow.