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Life is complicated. Abbey Road is complicated too. That’s why Prentice reaches for it today.
Lennon starts describing old flat-top, and Prentice spreads out on the couch – the floor would have been preferable, but if Wylie or Idiot came in they would definitely find that concerning – and stares up at the gabled log ceiling and tries not to think.
It’s not too hard a task – the album pulls Prentice into its various scenes, about students-turned-killers and an octopus’ garden and the rawest depths of frustration and longing Prentice can imagine. It’s nothing like the White Album – his second favorite – which invites him to bring his worries and find comfort in shared experience. No, Abbey Road is its own alternate dimension. It’s no cure for the depressive episode Prentice has found himself in since Idiot moved out, but it doesn’t make him feel worse, and that is a win.
Still, Prentice isn’t safe from his worries, as the medley starts up, after Prentice has turned to Side 2, and the lullaby-type song starts with gentle vocals, and he’s reminded of Idiot – Tiergan, that is.
How his stiff posture had softened that first time he’d played this album for Prentice – post-healing, anyway – and this song had come on. His eyes getting a faraway look as McCartney reminded them that there once was a way to get back home.
But as quickly as it begins, the lullaby is swept up into the next song, other voices shouting in an oddly comforting manner that he will “carry that weight a long time.” Idiot had cleared his throat and explained that the climactic ending to this album is likely because it was the last they made altogether.
Now, Prentice can’t help but wonder if he’s at the end of a sort of golden era too. He doesn’t understand how the Beatles can be so upbeat about it. Perhaps they just didn’t want to upset the fans too much.
It’s been days since Idiot visited – so much for “I’ll come around all the time.”
Just out of the blue one day, he’d announced he’s moving out.
A final decision. A single day’s notice. No fond words about the weeks they’d spent together – quite the opposite, actually – he’d seemed relieved.
The Beatles declare some positive message about love that Prentice can’t understand, and he stands, crossing the room and shutting off the record before the hidden track can scare him out of his socks again – Idiot had gotten a good laugh out of that, the bastard.
The silence is thick.
It just didn’t make sense. Idiot had been expressing care – in his own way, but in a real way nonetheless – for weeks. He’d moved in at the drop of a hat when Wylie told him he was concerned Prentice shouldn’t be left alone so much of the day. And though it wounded Prentice’s pride a good deal, Tiergan being here was truly what he needed.
Ensuring he ate and got to sleep and got out of bed, was annoying but necessary. But Tiergan did so much more than that.
He listened. Made Prentice’s darkest thoughts and feelings not seem as monstrous as he’d thought they were.
And Tiergan would fill him in on the past in a very Tiergan way – gently, and completely incapable of remaining objective, but self-aware enough to note his own prejudices.
Even just Tiergan being here, working quietly at the table, making meals, listening to music, complaining about annoying members of the nobility – Prentice found purpose and consistency in observing, attuning himself to Idiot’s patterns and idiosyncrasies.
And of course, how much Idiot loves Wylie.
Wylie is… like the sun. There’s not a better kid out there.
And Tiergan gets that. The pride in his eyes is painfully obvious. And Prentice can breathe easier – because at least his son was never truly alone through everything.
And things were on track to keep getting better.
I don’t need you to be okay, Dad, Wylie had said that night, the three of them in the living room, Prentice too lost in the darkness to do much else than trace the patterns on the rug with his gaze. I know I wasn’t okay for a while after Mom died.
Most sons don’t have to see their dad cry every day, Prentice had mumbled.
Wylie shrugged. At least I got you back.
And Wylie had scooted closer and put his hand on his shoulder, and Tiergan quietly added, there’s a strong prejudice in our world against those who mourn. I think some of us find ourselves turning those beliefs on ourselves.
And Prentice felt understood. Almost like they were a fa—
But then…
And now… well, the house feels a little colder. The world a little scarier. And he knows he’ll feel a little better when Wylie comes after classes. But that’s not for hours.
The monster coos at Prentice to get back in bed, with a glorious menu of losses and failures and shortcomings to ruminate on.
Shut up!
But if you lose Tiergan –
I’m not losing Tiergan.
But if you do –
I’m not!
Then you’ll be alone.
Prentice smacks himself gently in the face.
The monster doesn’t seem intimidated by that. He whispers that Tiergan probably is sick of him, resents him for needing so much help, on and on and on and…
Okay, Prentice, time to change the situation.
Thankfully, he and Tiergan had worked out a list of ideas, things to do when the monster was louder. He’d already tried listening to music… hailing someone?
Prentice reaches into his pocket and pulls out his imparter, clinging to it like a lifeline. And not totally sure why, the name he whispers is “Alden Vacker.”
—
Prentice probably wouldn’t have agreed to Alden’s proposal of lunch in Atlantis if he’d given it more than a split second of thought.
But he’s starting to have a bad feeling as he and Alden appear on a small bluff, alone in the middle of the vast ocean.
“How do we get down there?” Prentice says loudly over the wind.
Alden’s got that annoying I’m-Alden-Vacker-And-I’ve-Got-This-Covered look on, with that easy, almost demeaning smile that Prentice is determined to crack. He knows he can, too. He’s managed it the couple of other times they’ve met post-healing.
For now, though, Prentice’s stomach churns as Alden pulls out a vial of wind from the worn-wood cupboard and tosses it into the sea.
“You jump in. The whirlpool does the rest,” Alden replies as the wind gets louder and the vial stirs up the sea, spinning a pool faster and faster. He smooths his already-smooth hair, gazing at the water, and offering, “I could go first, but…”
“But then I’d be left up here alone. No, no,” Prentice sighs, leaning a smidge over the edge and taking a closer look at the water below. He does not want to get all cold and wet and jostled around, but it beats being home with his thoughts, so he decides, “I’ll do it.”
“I’m right behind you,” Alden says, offering him a smile.
Prentice glances at him suspiciously.
He doesn’t trust Alden – not one bit.
He’s certain Alden has an agenda here, and moderately certain he’d sell Prentice out again if he thought he had to. This whole “innocent guy” act is just veiling all the harm he does.
And yet… there’s something about Alden. Something receptive and sensitive. According to Idiot, he’s sacrificed his reputation and esteem to understand and eventually join the Black Swan.
Maybe that’s why Prentice senses some warmth in his controlled smile.
And also why Prentice has an intense urge to poke at him and see what happens.
“I know what you’re doing, Alden,” Prentice tells him. Alden tilts his head all innocent. “You’re trying to push me out of my comfort zone. I don’t need a care plan from you.”
And then, Alden cracks!
His eyes go a little wider, and he glances away, smoothing his hair again. “You really haven’t changed, you know that?” he says with a chuckle.
Prentice gets that comment all the time, and he can’t stand it.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Jump in and I’ll tell you down there,” Alden counters, meeting his eyes again.
Prentice can’t help but smile at the challenge.
He takes a deep breath. Then, he jumps.
The wind whips at Prentice’s clothes and his fancy cape he’d put on for the outing, and his heart is pounding ad the water is getting closer and he squeezes his eyes shut…
SPLASH.
And then there’s water all around and it’s just as cold and wet and horrible as he expected and he finds himself folding his arms tight around himself and it’s fast, fast, fast, and strange, and he does NOT LIKE THIS and does NOT like Alden!
And Prentice just waits and waits for it to be over, and when he’s alone like this, nothing to say, nothing to do, he always thinks of Cyrah.
He wonders if she liked this part.
He can imagine her laughing and squealing like it was a fun ride.
Then, the water gives out from under him, and Prentice is falling.
He forces his eyes open and the sandy ground is rushing toward him, and how he hasn’t thrown up is a mystery…
THWOP.
A giant, squishy sponge breaks his fall, and Prentice wobbles there on his back, all dry and safe and on solid ground again.
Prentice laughs. A big one, that shakes his whole clammy body, staring up at the deep blue sea above. And slowly he catches his breath.
Alone.
He could stare at the sea above forever. Watch the dim sunlight peek through and the ripples flow and shift…
When he spots another figure plummeting down – Alden, presumably.
Prentice jerks, trying to roll out of the way, but he’s still on the sponge when Alden thuds down next to him, and while Alden rolls swiftly and is soon standing on the ground below, Prentice is left bouncing and flailing around.
He hates feeling out of control. It’s a common occurrence these days.
“Ugh. You could have warned me,” Prentice complains.
Alden is standing over him, smiling breathlessly and offering a steadying hand.
Prentice takes it.
His legs are wobbly but he finds his footing as Alden drops his hand and says, “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
And with another Alden-hair-smooth, they’re off into the city.
Prentice can’t take his eyes off of those shiny, silver buildings, glowing majestically. Atlantis is stunning. Pristine and quiet and surprisingly not tight and stuffy like he’d expected. But there’s something too perfect about it. Or maybe it’s the crowds of people, light and airy, dressed in all sorts of colors, fancy and pristine, milling around them, chattering all perfectly, like their genes were special designed to make them efficient, beautiful, powerful members of the nobility.
Prentice grips the Endal crest on his chest, in part to have something to hold on to, part to hide it.
Exiled elves do not belong here.
Alden glances at him, looking him up and down, and to his credit, he does offer, “why don’t I hail us a carriage?”
Prentice just nods.
And Alden puts an arm around his shoulder – which is a little much, but Prentice will take it today – and leads them over to a canal, where a carriage driver seems unfazed by Prentice’s existence – apparently that’s generosity at this point – and agrees to take them to the cafe Alden names.
“I… feel I should apologize,” Alden says, his brow creasing, as the carriage gets moving. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Prentice huffs. Because now the Alden-Elitism is giving way to Alden-Guilt, which isn’t much better.
Prentice could point out that it’s a lie, that Alden was trying to get Prentice out in the world, which is basically the same thing, but instead he says, “I said yes, didn’t I?”
Alden smiles a little.
“Look, Alden…” Prentice says, as he watches Alden gaze out at the city passing by. “We’re good, okay? I just want to let go of the past and get to know you again.”
Alden’s smile turns a little realer, but also sadder. “I would like that too.”
And Prentice is surprised to find that he really means what he told Alden.
Prentice thinks of people like rooms he can step into. A little world, a way of life he can live in for a while. And he likes Alden’s room. It’s comfortable and many parts of it are safe, and it’s filled with curtains, that are easily lifted, and what’s underneath is usually good.
And there’s something else. The way Alden approaches everything… calmly. Like no problem is too big to be handled.
That’s a worldview Prentice could use more of.
“So… what did you mean when you said I haven’t changed?” Prentice asks.
Alden gazes up at the domed ceiling. There’s something adorable about Alden, that sort of guileless look he gets sometimes, when he’s not so much in mission-mode.
“You never let me get away with speaking indirectly,” Alden finally answers with that sad smile of his.
Prentice raises his eyebrows. “Oh.”
Prentice is used to being told he hasn’t changed, more so in a way that people don’t understand that he could keep living after everything, their eyebrows all scrunched up, keeping a healthy distance away like madness is contagious.
But that… is actually a good answer.
“And… you liked that?” Prentice asks.
“Usually I didn’t in the moment,” Alden says with a chuckle. “But in the end, you were the most honest person I ever knew.”
“Even though I was secretly in the Black Swan?”
“Especially because of that.”
Alden-Room is a powerful place. Prentice feels the despair at the Idiot situation melt away as he chews on Alden’s words. It’s like he’s tucked into bed as a child — safe, warm, cozy.
What???? What was that last part??
Get a hold of yourself, Prentice!
The carriage driver stops, and Alden helps Prentice down, and Prentice stops to give the eurypterid a pat on the head before they cross the road toward a small, blue-toned cafe. There are round silver tables out in the patio over looking a plaza, but Prentice keeps catching passerbys doing double-takes at him, and so he quickly asks the hostess to seat them inside. Inside is small, just a handful of tables and other patrons chatting quietly.
He studies Alden as he sits across from him. He’s cracked the guy open alright. Alden looks right at him, something sad, something humorous in his eyes.
Those eyes. So bright and teal and piercing and honest. They reflect exactly how Alden feels. And there’s something behind them that Prentice can’t place. So he asks –
“Alden… were we friends before?”
Alden twists his fingers together. A long deep breath passes before he answers, “We… were at one point.”
“But then we weren’t?”
He nods. “It was complicated, even before I…” Alden gestures weakly to convey the end of that sentence — got you convicted for treason and helped break your mind.
The waitress brings over a bowl of roasted nuts as Prentice sits on that.
He is faced with a now-all-too-familiar situation. He’s on the precipice of an Information Overload. And at first, after waking up, when met with a big question about the past like this, he’d ask every question, study every photo in the photo albums Idiot reluctantly brought over, trying to piece everything together. But he is often left confused, exhausted, overwhelmed, and most of all, frustrated.
Prentice sighs.
“I suppose patience is important,” is what he decides to say, popping one of the green nuts into his mouth. It’s salty and crunchy and rich.
“What do you mean by that?” Alden asks.
“Well, I have so many questions, all the time, every day,” Prentice explains. “And I’m learning that I’m not ready for all the answers. Sometimes it feels like… why can’t I just get better. But I’m learning that life is slow now. And I’m trying to be okay with that.”
“Well said,” Alden muses. “That’s something I’ve never been good at.”
Prentice raises an eyebrow. “You’re saying you can relate?”
Alden stares down at the bowl, chewing his lip.
Prentice has apparently taken the poking-at-Alden thing pretty far, if he’s not filtering his facial expressions anymore, but Prentice is not backing down now. “What is it Alden?”
When Alden doesn’t answer, Prentice reaches forward, putting his hand on his.
Alden looks up at him with a wary smile.
“I may not remember you… but I do care,” Prentice tells him. “And I can tell you from experience, talking helps.”
Alden holds his gaze. Prentice stares right back for several seconds.
Until Alden sighs and says, “I might need a drink for this.”
WHAT???
Prentice tries not to laugh, in case it isn’t a joke. He hadn’t taken Alden for a drinker. But to Prentice’s shock, Alden is waving over the waitress, ordering something he’s never heard of with the confidence of a seasoned one.
Is this how we used to be? Prentice wants to ask.
Instead he says, “make that two.”
The waitress comes back quickly with two glasses of something clear, and Alden downs his in two gulps, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Prentice tries a smaller sip, and it burns his mouth and his throat and he tries not to make a face.
“I suffered a broken mind,” Alden finally says, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know if Tiergan told you —”
“Tiergan doesn’t tell me anything,” Prentice blurts.
He clamps his mouth shut.
WHY did he say that???
Alden’s looking at him with amusement or pity or some other expression Prentice is not happy to be on the receiving end of, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Prentice clears his throat. “Uh, but, he did actually, uh, mention that,” he mumbles.
Idiot had said little on the subject, just the headlines, and Prentice didn’t even really know Alden. And Alden was healed anyway, so it was easy to file away as Unimportant Information.
But now, as Alden’s eyes turn glassy, Prentice feels like the real idiot.
Because Alden was subjected to the same torture he was. How had he never put that together before?
The monster supplies him with memories of the sharp echoey darkness of those days, and Prentice takes a gulp of his drink. And it does distract him for a second, burning as it goes down and making his head spin.
“Are you okay?” Alden asks.
Prentice nods, steadying his breath before saying. “Sometimes I still remember what it felt like.”
Alden nods. “The dreams are the worst.”
“Oh thank the stars you get those too,” Prentice gasps. Then he flinches. “I mean, sorry, that came out wrong.”
“It’s quite alright,” Alden says with a chuckle. He gestures at the waitress, who goes back behind the bar to retrieve more drinks.
Prentice is drinking in Atlantis with Alden at noon on a weekday. Tiergan is gonna lose his mind when he finds out. The thought brings Prentice a smile.
“It’s unsettling to know I let that happen to me,” Alden goes on, looking like he’s trying very hard to maintain eye contact. Prentice quickly drops the smile. “That at any moment, if I’m not careful enough…”
Prentice nods. He has the same fear about himself. “But you haven’t?”
Alden shakes his head. “I’ve come close… but so far, I’ve always pulled myself back.”
Prentice recalls a situation Tiergan had mentioned — one of Alden’s sons had helped kidnap Wylie recently, having been with the enemy for years, and is now in Black Swan custody. He wonders if that situation is what Alden is referring to, but it’s too loaded with emotion for Prentice to ask.
Prentice sips down the rest of his drink, meeting Alden’s gaze.
No smile just… Alden.
Prentice is wonders if he’s seeing the real Alden for the first time.
Prentice has a thousand questions, but a misstep would be easy to make here, and Alden’s uncharacteristic candor feels fragile, so he decides to tread carefully.
The waitress comes back with more drinks, and Alden thanks her and places a lunch order of something Prentice also hasn’t heard of. Then she’s gone.
“Do I…” Prentice chews his lip, choosing his words carefully. “Does seeing me… when I’m not 100% sunshine and rainbows… does that make it worse?”
Alden sips his drink slowly. “Sometimes,” he admits. “But… I figure you don’t want more guilt from me.”
“I don’t,” Prentice agrees.
Alden nods. “So… I’m just trying to be better now.”
“And how is that going?”
“How is trying to be a good person going?” Alden asks with a smile.
“Yeah.”
Alden shrugs. “It’s a hard question to answer.”
Prentice takes another sip of this terrible drink. “Well how about this. What do you do differently now?”
Alden opens his mouth to answer, then he chuckles and shakes his head. “How do we always get on the deepest subjects so quickly when we talk?”
And just like that, the Alden Shield is back up. Well, we had him for a little while, at least, Prentice concedes.
“I’ve learned that secrets and euphemisms hinder what’s really important,” Prentice argues.
“Perhaps they do,” Alden says. “Speaking of which… are you ready to tell me why you called?”
Prentice smiles. “Here I thought you were letting me keep my secrets because you felt bad for me.”
Prentice freezes, nervous that he’s taken the teasing a little too far, but Alden actually smiles back. “Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.”
Prentice finishes his drink a little too quick.
Now he’s coughing.
“Ugh, why do people like this stuff?” he complains between coughs.
“You didn’t have to drink it, you know,” Alden comments.
“Solidarity,” Prentice rasps.
And because Alden is merciless, he doesn't even let Prentice catch his breath before he says, “You’re in a fight with Tiergan, aren’t you?”
Prentice’s alarm must be apparent, because Alden shakes his head sadly and says, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Prentice clears his throat. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. You had that look when you hailed. The one you always had when the two of you were in a fight.”
Always?
Fight?
The relationship Alden is describing is unrecognizably different from the one that they have now.
Prentice wishes he and Idiot were actually arguing, instead of this strange game of chess they are currently in.
He finds himself running his thumb over the bracelet on his wrist – square emerald jewels all around, the one Cyrah had given him, the one he’d had on when he was arrested.
Because it was usually Cyrah who called him out for getting stuck in his head, reminded him that he was an elf with a heart and not just a tortured genius. You always make things more complicated than they actually are, Cyrah often said, and had said the night before he was arrested.
And now…
Prentice gazes out the window, at the Atlantis shoppers milling around.
Maybe that’s why the Cyrah memory is stickier than usual. Her shop, the one he’d seen in the photo albums, must be nearby. The one he’d visited over and over just to get to talk to her. According to the stories, at least, because he didn’t actually remember.
“Prentice? Are you okay?” Alden asks.
Prentice forces himself to focus in on him.
Because the thing is… Cyrah isn’t here. Any sense of proximity… the monster likes that, wants him to feel her absence and recognize it as a reason to lose hope. And he hates the monster turning his grief into another one of its weapons.
But right now, that’s what it is.
So Prentice tucks some of his dreads behind his ear so his shaky hand has something to do, and he speaks.
“Tiergan and I aren’t in a fight, but… we are in a bit of a weird place.”
The monster’s voice gets a little quieter.
“How so?” Alden asks.
The waitress returns with steamy bowls of dark, brothy soup before Prentice can answer. The rich smell brings Prentice down into reality. Prentice’s stomach isn’t too interested, though it does look delicious.
“He… hasn’t been coming to see me. I just can’t help but feel like I did something wrong and he’s not telling me. And he doesn’t make it easy to bring up.”
Prentice doesn’t feel better. No, he actually feels much worse saying all of this out loud, like maybe this is a bigger problem than he’d realized.
Alden’s eyes are kind as he nods.
“And it’s fine,” Prentice finds himself saying. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. I just… hate not knowing what’s going on. And it feels like I’m losing him.”
Alden shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. Tiergan adores you.”
“Maybe he used to,” Prentice complains bitterly. “Maybe it was easier when I was gone. But I can tell. I’m a massive burden on him, and he’s glad to be rid of me.”
“You really think that?”
Prentice remembers how Idiot hadn’t even looked him in the eye when he’d said he was moving out.
“Yes. In fact, I take back what I said. I’m not sure it’s going to be okay. I’m actually very sure this is the beginning of the end.”
Some horrible part of Prentice actually hopes that’ll feed into Alden’s guilt and shut him up. But Alden seems unfazed. That smile in the corners of his eyes is back.
“Well, okay,” Alden says. “What exactly happened?”
“I told you. He stopped coming.”
“Well, he was living at your house for a while, right? How did he leave?”
Prentice stirs his soup, because food is unappetizing and eating is unpleasant, but it’s better than facing the painful memory head on.
“He just said one morning that he’s leaving tomorrow and that I’ve gotten better and he knows I can handle it.”
Prentice looks up at Alden, who nods as he takes a sip of the soup.
“And he never mentioned moving out before that?”
Prentice shakes his head, and the sloshy feeling makes him realize he’s tipsier than he’d thought. “We didn’t really talk about that kind of thing. The future.”
Alden seems to consider this. “What do you think would happen if you tried to talk to him about it?”
Prentice huffs. “He’d probably light leap away as fast as possible.”
“Really? You really think he doesn’t care that you’re upset by this?”
Prentice takes a spoonful. It’s rich and salty and the squishy vegetables inside melt in his mouth. As expected, swallowing is an effort, but he does it.
“I’m sure he cares…”
“There you go,” Alden says with a shrug.
“But –”
“Why is there a ‘but?’ Listen, Prentice. Tiergan is… he and feelings are like oil and water.”
Prentice giggles more than he probably would if he hadn’t been drinking.
Alden goes on very seriously, leaning forward, “When Tiergan gets overwhelmed by emotion, he just hits his limit and he leaves. That’s how he is. And that worked fine for him while you were gone, because most of us… weren’t very good friends to him.” Alden says that part with some sorrow in his voice. He takes a deep breath and goes on, “But that doesn’t mean he doesn't care. Quite the opposite. I think he cares more than he knows what to do with.”
Prentice takes another tentative sip of his soup. “So you think I overloaded him somehow?”
“You tell me.”
Prentice replays that night. The night Wylie had said those things.
And then…
After Wylie had gone back to his dorm, and he’d followed Tiergan out on the porch so Tiergan could have a cigarette…
“I just told him I liked having him around,” Prentice mumbles.
Alden nods emphatically. “That absolutely is what did it.”
Prentice rubs his forehead. “So I tell him I love him and he leaves? Cause that makes a ton of sense.”
“It does if you’re him.”
Tiergan had gotten all darty-eyed when Prentice got sappy. But how is that any different from all the other times they’d shown affection?
“You seem to know Tiergan pretty well,” Prentice notes.
Alden nods slowly, staring down at his bowl. Prentice realizes the restaurant has cleared out and its just them and the staff. Whether it’s Prentice’s conviction status, or the very serious conversation they are having, or something else, he can’t be sure.
“I once considered him a good friend,” Alden says. “And then, I made the worst mistake of my life, and for a long time he didn’t forgive me. Now… I suppose I thought after everything, that things might go back to normal. But I think he still thinks less of me for it.”
Prentice can’t believe how spot-on this guy’s analysis of the situation is. He’d thought Alden the clueless type.
And as Alden stirs his soup, Prentice wonders how many close friends Alden even has. Quinlin doesn’t seem like the type for heart-to-hearts. Grady does more so, but Prentice still can’t picture it.
“These things take time,” Prentice says. His chest aches with guilt, because deep down, he knows Tiergan will probably never respect Alden all that much. But sometimes those cliches are true, even when it doesn’t feel that way.
“I could say the same to you,” Alden counters.
Prentice smiles. His bowl is still mostly full, but his body is heavy, the monster is winning out, and Prentice decides he might just have to admit this outing has run its course.
“I should get going,” he mumbles.
Somehow, it doesn’t feel like defeat.
“Of course,” Alden answers.
Alden goes to pay the waitress, bringing along Prentice’s plate so they can box it up for him, and Prentice wonders if Tiergan really was scared off by love.
I love having you here, he’d told him.
And Tiergan had stood frozen, his cigarette burning, forgotten in his hand, as Prentice said, This last month has meant a lot to me. And not just because you helped me. You make everything better, just by being you.
And Tiergan had sort of glanced at him quickly and then mumbled that it was getting late and he should get to bed.
Which was fine. Prentice didn’t need him to say anything.
But why? Why did that scare Tiergan so much?
Prentice is determined to find out.
He and Alden walk out of the restaurant together, and grab another carriage, and Prentice watches the buildings go by in silence, his eyes getting heavy. Outings are a lot for him these days. Socializing and taking in information is exhausting when everything is new and antagonists are around every corner.
Alden leads him off the carriage and toward the small lake that seems to be the exit point, his hand back on Prentice’s shoulder. He can dimly hear some tense words shouted, and Alden shouting back – someone must be yelling at him? Prentice doesn’t really notice or care. Alden will take care of it.
“Are you alright?” Alden says as he levitates them up through the bubble-film. His Alden-the-Emissary face is back, the concern colored by duty. “That was a little intense.”
Prentice shrugs. “Carrying that weight.”
“Huh?”
“You just… had to be there,” Prentice mumbles.
The bubble forms around them, Prentice leaning back on the bouncy edge of it. They seem to be waiting for something.
“I’m proud of you Alden,” Prentice says sleepily.
Alden tilts his head. “For what?”
“For letting life be complicated.”
Alden’s smile is just about the saddest Prentice can imagine as they’re launched into the sea above.
—
Prentice’s much needed post-outing nap takes him well into the afternoon, but when his eyes open, he jolts right up, to the monster’s chagrin, and texts Wylie that he’ll be at Solreef and to meet him there when he gets out of class.
Then he’s calling down the Solreef crystal from the humble Leapmaster 25 Idiot had installed – and Tiergan had, annoyingly, been right that fewer places would make it less overwhelming – and stepping into the light.
Prentice bounds up the stairs, not even minding the distance or the wind this time, and he gets to the top, breathless and heart pounding, and he gives himself a moment to gather himself before pressing the doorbell and hearing “Here Comes The Sun” for the second time today.
This fucking guy.
Who loves the Beatles because they sing about feelings and frustrations that make him feel alive.
Who lives at the top of this ridiculous mountain for security reasons, but takes pleasure in the fact that it also means nobles arrive disheveled and breathless when they come to bother him.
Who invited Tam and Linh to live here before Wylie begged him to, and has been just as welcoming to them as he was to Wylie.
Then, the door opens slowly, and Idiot’s eyes go wide.
He clings to the door handle and stands there very stiffly. “Uh, hi.”
“Hey,” Prentice says, smiling uncontrollably.
Idiot, meanwhile, is glancing every which way, hanging on tight to that door handle. Finally he settles on staring at his socks and mumbles, “Alden hailed me.”
Prentice presses his lips together.
That fucking…
WHY? Why did Alden have to do that?
Why had all of Prentice’s suspicion gone out the window the moment Alden had started opening up?
Wait - focus, Prentice! We’re losing him!
“What did he say?”
Tiergan rolls his eyes, that tone where he’s annoyed with Alden coming out. “That he took you to Atlantis, which is dangerous and absurd if you ask me. And…” Tiergan finally looks him right in the eye and asks, “that you had a hard day?”
“Oh, it wasn’t too bad,” Prentice assures him, which a lie, but not the worst lie about his mental state he’s told, so it’s not so bad. “Going out is tiring.”
“Out of ten?”
“Uhhh like a six?”
Tiergan nods down at his socks, otherwise not acknowledging the six, and Prentice can just tell Alden made some remark about Tiergan’s withdrawal. However nice he put it or subtle he had tried to be, Prentice promises himself he’ll tell Alden off for it later, because it’s not okay.
But then again, it’s a little comforting that Alden is still Alden at the end of the day. And… Prentice doesn’t find himself discouraged.
“I don’t want to talk about Alden,” Prentice says. “I don’t want to talk about how I’m doing. I just missed you.”
Tiergan frowns at the floor. “I know. You want to talk about how I le –”
Prentice shakes his head. He’s just not getting it!
“I don’t want to talk, Tiergan. All we do is talk these days. I just wanted to hang out with you.”
Tiergan stares at him. His eyes are all wide and big and he’s tilting his head and…
Ohhhhhh…
How did Prentice miss it before?
Of course Tiergan adores him.
It’s almost painful to look at.
“So let’s put on a record or something, right?” Prentice asks.
Tiergan turns away, blinking hard.
“Are Tam and Linh around? They can join us.”
“They’re… at school,” Tiergan answers.
“Well, that’s fine, then we can put on the White Album and nobody will complain about how long it is.”
Prentice smiles at his joke, but Tiergan doesn’t seem to notice. He turns back to face him. “You know, you don't have to –”
“Tiergan,” Prentice interrupts. “Let’s just go in, right?”
Tiergan hesitates.
Then he smiles a little.
He opens the door wider. “Well, come in, then.”
And Prentice does.
—-
The next morning, Prentice hesitates over his imparter. He’s gotten a text from Stupid.
ALDEN:
I want to thank you for yesterday. It’s a pleasure to see you again.
Prentice feels a touch guilty for all the shit-talking he a Tiergan had done about this guy last night. After all… he’s doing his best. Aren’t we all?
Prentice finally types a quick answer. He doesn’t even reread it. It’s probably not perfect, and it’s alarmingly candid to the point that Alden might ruminate over it all day, but it’s at least honest.
PRENTICE:
The pleasure was mine. You are kinder than you know.