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Who You Once Were Isn't Who You Are.

Summary:

“Talk to me about it.”
“What?”
“I said, talk to me about it.”
"I just, there is nothing to talk abou-”
“Talk to me anyways.”
~
Enoch finds Hugh at The Priest Hole after an incident with Fiona. Some well needed talking ensues.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

September 3rd, 1940.

September 2nd, 1940. Another forever day, yet still new.

It had been a few months since the defeat of Caul. A few months since Miss Peregrine and her wards, with a few new additions, moved back into their home. A few months of readjusting to not only what is a life of luxury compared to the horrors they had endured over the past year, but to the newness that September the 2nd brought to the village of Carinholm. Though the faces were all the same, their actions and words were subject to change; it had been well over 80 years since many of them had seen September 2nd, some of them not being a part of the picture until long after the date was but a fragmented memory.

Enoch was one of those few, and he had a hard time imagining this day having anything utmostly spectacular happening. He was right.

He walked through the rocky street, glancing at the villagers around him doing their various mundane tasks with practically empty heads. He supposed everyone had their daily duties to attend to, though he guessed he thought they would have been a bit different going from day to day. It was sunny on the 2nd, something Enoch was strangely accustomed to now that he had to suffer the burning sun state that is Florida. It made him good, as pitiful as that sounded to him. But after seeing the sky pour down ash, bone, and blood for days on end, maybe the sun was alright. The light quickly went out however once he stepped foot into The Priest Hole, being merely lit by small windows caked with smoke and a few fluttering candles. There were less people on the 2nd compared to the 3rd, though it did seem to be more lively as opposed to the future day. Still, the familiar smell of booze, cigarettes, and hard day’s work swirled around the air as Enoch squinted to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden misty darkness. He got the same looks he would usually get upon entering, given his “everything” as some would say: confusion, disapproval, the occasional bewilderment with a look that seemed to express “Hell yeah”. This time around, he’s noticed other types, new looks, that he started to receive upon being integrated back. Those of concern, horror. Disgust. He was no idiot. He knew why. It was…he didn’t like to think about it. He made sure to ignore those new looks with a harsh chip on his shoulder.

A new man runs the bar on the 2nd, someone Enoch has yet to memorize the name of. He will admit, he missed Kev. He quite liked the old chap. This new man is much more monotone, stingy, and unfortunately from what Enoch has learned, tone deaf. Either that, or he simply is a knowless blighter. He asks Enoch practically the same question upon their first interaction, though today he’s prepared for it as New Man glances up from the shot glass he’s cleaning and spots him, coiling back in the process.

“Guh-! Augh, Jesus kid. What, you’d get in an accident?”

Enoch stared blankly at him for a few seconds before answering. “Yes.”

He had yet to think up anything better to say. It is true. Coming up with something snarky for New Man the dalcop here to squeal at was…again, he didn’t like to think about it.

“Ah…Well boy, you still ain’t get no buzz.” Kev would never be covetous against a man wanting a drink. Enoch had money on him, if he wanted a drink he should be free to get one. Fortunately for both of them, Enoch was both not in the mood to haggle New Man to give him a drink and not here for a drink in general.

“Not what I’m here for. I’m looking for someone. He probably…” Enoch looked over his shoulder briefly before facing New Man again. “He is the youngest here. Brown hair, also probably wearing some daft goggles, haha. So. Erm…see anyone of that sort?”

New Man was now the one staring blankly at him for a few seconds before he seemingly sprung back into life, like a literal lightbulb had flicked back on in his head; it almost made Enoch coil this time. Maybe New Man really was just a bit of a downer in the brains.

“Sure sure, I think you’d be talking about the young fellow at the front. He done tucked himself into that there left corner by the door.”

Enoch turned to where New Man was gesturing. Sure was right; there was indeed someone that had tucked themselves into the corner. They were wearing a large coat, though with the hood down, you could see the slight outline of goggles on top of the person’s head. After a quick thank you with a light shrug off, Enoch made his way over to the cornered-up individual. How he hadn’t seen him when he came in, he didn’t know. He supposed the darkness of the pub mixed with his large oversized coat did the trick. He thought about telling him how stupid he looked once he got to him, but with the way things were going with him, he stifled the thought.

“Hey Hugh.”

Enoch heard a breathy sigh before watching Hugh turn his head to him. His eyes were sunken in quite a bit, and they looked slightly red. He put on an unreadable face, however; always concerned, though never the one to feel it.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you didn’t like coming here anymore?”

“I don’t,” Enoch said. For a combination of reasons. “But, I…I heard what happened. Back at the house. Fi-”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t.” Hugh looked down into his hands. “Whatever you came here to do. Drop it.” He turned his head back around and slumped down onto the table.

Enoch sat down in the chair next to him. It was with a small circle table that Hugh seemingly had pushed to face the wall. It was awkward, really. But Enoch knew Hugh well, more so than he would have thought, though he’s learned that over time and most recently. There were a few shot glasses that lined the table, and a few more scattered the floor. 

“I didn’t come here to do anything. But…to say she was looking for you.”

Hugh jerked up, eyes slightly lightened. “She- she was?”

“Mhm.”

“Ha…” Hugh put his forehead against the palm of his hand he propped up on the table. “She still…I thought…” The small spark in his eyes quickly faded. “She shouldn’t.”

“And why wouldn’t that be?”

“I told you, go. Drop it.”

Enoch would usually spew some lighthearted complaints about his fellow loopmates or a couple of the locals around this time, something to get the other to forget about his sorrows or at the very least distract him from them for another time. Though with a new day comes new thoughts; Enoch has had some time to think. To reflect…and, maybe, he’s even learned. As gross as he thought it was, he’s, almost, accepted…talking things out actually can be beneficial. He doesn’t think Hugh has. No, he knows Hugh hasn’t. But, it was obvious it was something he needed. For the second time in just a few minutes, Enoch bit his tongue, and decided to go about things in a lighter way.

“Talk to me about it.”

Maybe not all too light.

“What?” Hugh didn’t look up.

“I said, talk to me about it.”

“No, I heard what you said. But, why-? Why would I do that? What good would that do when talking is what got me here in the first place? And why would you ask?” Hugh finally looked up after his last sentence, a look of shock and slight regret. “Augh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, there is nothing to talk abou-”

“Talk to me anyways.”

Hugh looked confused and slightly agitated at Enoch. Truth be told, the younger one didn’t really know where he was coming from with this, nor did he know where he was going to go after. Hell, he hadn’t really known why he came looking for Hugh in the first place. Fiona did ask about him and his whereabouts, but Enoch wasn’t told to go and find him. He just…did. He did. Out of a buried place of worry that has slowly but consistently been emerging for some time now. What he thought would be surprising to many, he cared. Not that he always has, and not that he had an awful lot. With the events they had all faced…you could say he grew. A bit physically as well. Not enough to get him a quick shot much to his dismay. But, he cared about…them. He cared about Hugh enough, at least, in this moment, to wander around searching for him in a place he no longer saw as somewhere he'd like to be. He expected Hugh to blow him off and tell him the same thing he had before. He expected this to all be worth nothing at the end. But, surprisingly, Hugh did pretty much the exact opposite of Enoch’s expectations.

Tears formed around the older boys’ eyes, a few bees emerging from the large jacket that had been hiding them, swarming around his face. “I shouted. I shouted right at her. She would never, ever, do such a thing to deserve that.” Hugh was looking Enoch dead in his face, the tears now streaming from his eyes, but his expression was a mix of sternness and sorrow. “I couldn’t find her. She wondered off. She- she can do so! I don’t know why I…she…not being able to find her…it worried me. It worried me so, so much.”

Hugh finally looked away, staring down at the table. A few drops from his eyes hit the smooth shine of the wood. “I can’t have her gone again, Enoch. I cannot. I- a world without Fiona…is one I only see in nightmares. When I couldn’t find her…I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you ask someone? One of us, if we had seen her?” Enoch deep down knew the answer as to why, but he didn’t want to believe it until he heard it.

“...I’m sure you know why.” Though the answer wasn’t direct, it was enough to confirm Enoch’s suspicions.

“She came home, about an hour after. She acted as if it was…fine- AUGH!” Hugh suddenly slammed a fist down on the table. “It IS fine! I’m not- I know it is! But, I don’t understand how she could be so…so, normal about it. About it all.” His lines started to slur a bit more as he went on, choking up in the process. “When I saw her, I thought I would be…happy. Relieved. But I- …I was angry. Fuck, Enoch, I didn’t even give her time, I just…I berated her. I even…I said…selfish, that she was. Why would I ever..? She absolutely is not, and could never be, my sweet souled lover…”

Hugh went on, though Enoch had a hard time making out the rest between the hands over his face, the buzzing, and the sob-induced slurring of words. Not a broken man, but a man that had been broken. Enoch had thought, for a moment, Hugh had been exaggerating. He thought this same thought earlier on in Hugh’s sorrows, when Fiona was originally…assumed gone. But this time, that moment quickly fled; it's not as if losing Fiona didn't take a toll on him, or anyone else. But to Hugh, Fiona is an integral part of his life, the reason his heart beats as it does. Enoch could never truly understand or feel how Hugh felt, or even how he felt now. But what he did know, was Hugh wasn't the type to open up, to talk about his problems. When they do emerge, they come out such as an eruption, and with the pain he suffered through alone for months…they've been building up for some time now. Enoch should know. Him and Hugh were much more similar than he had known, come to find out. Maybe that was the reason Enoch went looking for him. For Hugh unfortunately, Fiona was the one to tip the boiling, long overdue pot. Hugh knew better, Enoch knew he did. Alas, a small part of him knew this is what Hugh needed. As much as he regretted it, and as many other ways to go about it that there was, this…was good. In the long run, good. Getting Hugh to understand that was another problem, especially after the consequences he forced himself to endure. Enoch, still learning this about himself, could do nothing but try.

“Hey, hey stop.” Enoch said, as Hugh was still blabbering on (about what anymore, Enoch couldn't say). “Listen, I know you…have a lot. On your mind. And, you might not think that this is a sharp thing to say to you right now but it is so just take it, ok?”

He hadn't meant to sound so aggressive, but it did get Hugh's attention. He had stopped talking and was looking at Enoch again with the same weird expression, one that seemed confused but intrigued with some slight anger behind it. The streaks of tears only partially shined against the dimmed lights. The bees that once swarmed him intensely had mellowed down, resting against his shoulders and the sides of his neck.

“That…your anger in that moment was justified. You know that, right?”

Hugh scoffed. “No, it wasn't.”

“It was! You have the right to feel that way. There-, yeah, I mean, better ways to go about it sure and obviously you wouldn't have wanted to with Fiona of all people, but-”

“It wasn't, Enoch! You think we should all just feel anger towards those we love? We can't all be you!”

…

“Shit. No, no Enoch I- God. See? This is…this is why I can't…I shouldn't…”

Enoch hasn't ever, truly, seen Hugh cry. He's seen him with swollen red eyes and tear stains, but he's never actually been there to witness him crying. Yet here he is. Sobbing into his hands, over something he had said about Enoch nonetheless. Enoch had never really known what to do about someone crying. And Hugh…Hugh was an older brother, a friend. He thought about leaving, he did. He had pushed Hugh too much, perhaps it would be better if he hadn't shown up at all. Yet, a part of him kept him in that chair, watching for a moment in silence as Hugh sniffled and tried to keep his cries contained. Before he knew it, he felt the unfamiliar feeling of tears rolling down his own face. In the past, it would make him feel cowardly, odd, idiotic. He knew now though, that he had more to worry about than that. He let the tears fall from his own eyes as he rested his hand against Hugh's back, letting the older boy weep. He hoped that the pub attendees here on the 2nd would be just as ignorant to their surroundings as the ones on the 3rd. And yet, it wouldn't truly matter, would it?

Hugh’s tears slowly subsided and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked up from his hands at Enoch. “Uh…Tha- …Why did you stay?”

“...I don’t know.”

Hugh gave a lighthearted laugh as he wiped more tears from his face. “I appreciate the honesty. Though I think you know without really knowing.”

He did.

More silence fell between the two as Hugh composed himself, getting some of his bees to go back inside of his coat and using the inside of his sleeve to clean his nose. Enoch thought that maybe now was a good time to spew some goofy antics, but his thoughts were cut off.

“Tell him that you were attacked by a zombie.”

“Uh. What?” Enoch blinked a few times at Hugh, who was now looking at him with a small sincere smile. The tears still partially stained his face, and his eyes were still red, but he looked more Hugh-like now.

“Or wait, better yet, tell him it was a bar fight. With zombies. Ooh, that’s good.”

“What on earth are you on about?”

“Earlier, your brief conversation with the man at the bar. I overheard it. He…asked what happened, if you were in an accident. You just said yes. Very uncharacteristic of you, mate.”

Enoch looked down at the table. “I…hm. I don’t like to talk about it more than I have to.” He hadn’t really opened up about his injuries and his feelings about them with anyone else other than Miss Peregrine. She had truly helped him out; perhaps that is part of the reason he was so insistent with Hugh and understanding his problems. Though, opening up with anyone else was a different challenge. Hugh was right before, he hadn’t shown remorse for those that care for him in the past. He did feel it, but he had never been one to show it. How could he ever expect sympathy when he was never one to give it?

“...Gasúr, everyone deserves sympathy.” Hugh said; Enoch had said that out loud? “Even those who think they don’t. Who you once were, isn’t who you are. And…I believe that is something we both are working on, huh?”

Enoch looked up at Hugh as he continued. “What you said just a bit ago…ha, you were right. I- I have a hard time being so uptight and stuck in my own emotions. I don’t want anyone to worry for me. But…that isn’t a bad thing. People should. That’s how you know when…you’re cared for. My anger was justified. I still regret the way it happened of course. But…it isn’t something I should have hid for so long. I don’t think you should have to hide the ways that you’re feeling either. You’re just as stubborn about emotions as me though, I know.” Hugh laughed a bit, and Enoch couldn’t help but smile a little too. “We can work through it. Slowly, we have been, but we can keep going. You coming in today, telling me what you did, reminding me…just being here. It…really, it means a lot. That shows me already that there has been improvement, in…” Hugh had to think for a moment. “Whatever exactly this “improvement” is, I think you understand.” Enoch nodded. Hugh made a good point; this “improvement” isn’t just for one thing, but whatever it was, Enoch could feel it.

“You making me open up has been an improvement for me too I’d say, yeah?”

“Yeah, it has.” Enoch replied. He knew whatever it was, Hugh felt it too.

“With that, I know how you feel about your injury.” Enoch’s eyes went slightly wide with worry. He wasn’t ready for this conversation yet, especially after Hugh had just finished his. “And I am not forcing you to talk about it now, I can tell you’re not ready.”

…Was Hugh secretly psychic?

“I can tell by your face. You give off your thoughts real easily through your expressions.” Hugh lightly hit his shoulder with a small chuckle. Enoch rolled his eyes but gave a short smile anyway. He…he actually didn’t know that until now. That explains a lot.

“But I wanted to say. When you’re ready to talk about it, however you want to go about it or whatever you want to say…I am here for you. I’ll listen. You don’t have to be alone in your struggles. I myself am still learning, but, we…we’ll go through it. Work through it. Together.”

Enoch stared at Hugh, who stared back at him with a warm smile. His eyes still red, his cheeks still tear stained, but he radiated positivity in that moment. Care. Love.

"Thank you."

“No, thank you.” Hugh replied back. “And, next time you come here, maybe I can help you in thinking of a better comeback rather than “yes”. I don’t know if saying zombies is too stereotypical to you or not.”

Enoch laughed at this. “A little. Uh…hey.” He thought back to his earlier thoughts, to Hugh’s earlier words; he wanted Hugh to know, he didn’t think he did.

“Ay-up?”

Enoch looked down. “I…I do care about you. You know.” 

Hugh was silent for a few beats. He then gave a friendly sounding huff and sigh, and wrapped his arm around Enoch’s shoulder.

“I know, mate. I’ve always known.”

Notes:

"Gasúr": Irish - Boy/Lad, Youngster.

A random fic I had about two nights ago. I only had once, small, central idea, and somehow managed to build over 3,000 words around it. Hugh and Enoch deserve this. The brothers of all time.