contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[bouchonne]

[ Of all of the things to start with - of all of the things to say - By wants to weep. He wants to grab Bastien by his collar and shake him until his head comes off. He feels - ]

This isn't some game.

[ The words come out in Orlesian. Country Orlesian; his mother's Orlesian. ]

It wasn't some fun.

[ Because that mild, warm little smile makes him feel afraid. How many people saw that exact smile before they never saw Bastien again? Before he changed his name and disappeared? ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien tilts his head — and here, roundabout, is the betrayal and anger, after all, in the way the mild warmth (like a Spring day, still a little brisk) doesn't recede in the face of Byerly's unhappiness. ]

I'm sorry.

[ Equally Orlesian, urban and urbane. ]

You didn't seem to be suffering, though. [ Less resentful than an attempt at comfort, sort of. At least on its face. Shhh, says his tone; it's fine, it's funny. ] Whoever you dreamed up to own my clothes — was he better looking than me?

[bouchonne]

He was no one. He was you.

[ Byerly isn't often so raw. He's let go of much of what made him a spy, true enough, but he is still a spy. Though he wouldn't be so perfect or so polished as Bastien, he could hold it in. But he doesn't.

He crouches on the ground instead. Gets closer to Bastien. Lets him see the red rims of his eyes. ]

Don't you see that? I couldn't imagine any life without you, and so I invented you.

[cozen]

[ The smile slinks off of Bastien's face in defeat: all right, they won't have a laugh about it. He pushes up onto his knees, earning a grumbling huff from Whiskey when it robs her of some of the warmth she'd been leeching from his side, and makes Rat Red give one of his hands back so he can touch Byerly's face instead. ]

I know. I know. I left a hole and you were trying to fill it. It's okay. I'm only teasing.

[ The shorter hair above his ears. The plane of his cheek. ]

I would have seduced you away from him eventually, anyway.

[ He wouldn't have. He would have kept his distance, the disconnect between their memories of each other a wound that scraped open again every time they spoke, until he lost his last scraps of hope. Then he'd have left. But they don't have to talk about that. ]

[bouchonne]

Don't lie to me.

[ Maybe it's something masochistic in him that makes him push. But maybe not. Maybe this genuinely feels needed.

In Trade, a language a little further from his heart, that doesn't feel quite so vulnerable - ]

You were already half gone.

[cozen]

I was in the Gallows.

[ Sharp. Obstinately overly literal. His hand stays on Byerly's face despite it, for beat, then another, before he pulls that back as well.

Don't lie to me. Bastien's tried so hard to never lie to him. Any other day, any other mood, and that request would stop him in his tracks and make him think about himself. But right now he would rather not. ]

What do you want me to have done? Tracked you down to beg every day?

[bouchonne]

Oh, no, you're right.

[ Bitingly sarcastic. ]

A single visit - That was certainly sufficient effort to exert before you gave up.

[ Whiskey is licking Byerly's hand. In a sign of just how furious he truly is, Byerly doesn't pet her in return. ]

[cozen]

You want me to have tracked you down to beg every day.

[ Bastien will pet Whiskey, scratching at her rump while she continues licking Byerly's hand. He has Rat Red pinned down with the other, letting her try to wriggle free — she loves it. Maybe the effect of Bastien's tense, chilly expression combined with using both hands to entertain the dogs would be funny to an onlooker with no investment in this argument. ]

If I keep having to live without you, Byerly, I am going to learn how to do it without cracking up every time. I'm sorry if that's a blow to your ego.

[bouchonne]

[ A muscle jumps in his jaw. He doesn't clench a fist, but his fingertips at least twitch. ]

Live without me? I hadn't gone anywhere.

[cozen]

You had for me. And you were going to come back or you weren't —

[ No dragons to fight this time. What started angry, full of teeth, pulls back into a more subdued tone. More defeated. ]

— so there was no reason to make us both miserable in the meantime.

[ He pats Whiskey in parting apology for stopping petting her, scoops up Rat Red, and stands up to go to the corner that serves as a kitchen.

At least he's not storming out the front door. ]

[bouchonne]

Oh, yes, fine reasoning. Fine reasoning. I'd certainly fall back in love with you if you were just a ghost in the periphery.

[ He doesn't get up. He keeps crouching just where he is, like a feral animal, furious and harsh. ]

I'd just come back.

[cozen]

[ Bastien pauses his pursuit of coffee to turn back to Byerly and make a wordless gesture that communicates, yes, see? He's come back. Everything's fine now — or would have been, if By hadn't insisted on talking about it like this. Out loud he says, ]

You weren't going to fall back in love with me,

[ with some mocking emphasis, like that's a childish thing to propose in the first place. ]

[bouchonne]

[ His frown turns uglier. ]

And why not? All of this is such an accident?

[cozen]

Yes.

[ Simple. Catty. His rifling through the cabinets and one-handed wrangling of the kettle is quiet and controlled. ]

Everything had to be just right. You had to know enough to think I was interesting and not like me enough to be frightened of it. You had to be afraid of something else so I could be what you needed. I had to throw myself at you for a year —

[ A little hyperbole, as a treat. ]

Maybe I could make it that way again, but I would have been — what do you call it when you know everything about someone who doesn’t even know who you are, and you use it to make them like you?

[bouchonne]

I - Fuck you.

[ He’s straightening up now, standing tall. His lips are white where they press together. ]

Fuck you, Bastien. Is that what you think of me? That I’m so selfish - and so weak - that I had to need you before I could love you?

[cozen]

[ Byerly's certainly never spoken to him like that before. Fuck you is for saying through a laugh. Bastien's still for a moment, looking at him, the briefest stutter in his little performance before he turns to proceed with his coffee as if it's normal. ]

It isn't about being selfish or weak. It's just how it was.

[bouchonne]

So it’s not even worth trying again.

[ Bitter. Furious. Maker, he feels so furious. ]

Better to leave me than to even try.

[ He feels so, so furious. ]

[cozen]

I didn't leave you. You forgot about me.

[ He puts a cup down loud enough to make a noise. That's practically slamming, from him. ]

And I was in the Gallows. We weren't allowed to leave. I didn't have a sending crystal. And you weren't going to fall for a madman waiting for you at the ferry like a puppy every day. I don't know what you want me to have done.

[bouchonne]

I want you to -

[ By stops. He tries again. ]

I want -

[ What? What can he say that can properly capture his rage? ]

Is this how it’s going to be? If I go mad? Are you just going to leave me?

[ That isn’t angry. It doesn’t come out angry. It comes out afraid. ]

[cozen]

[ That makes Bastien slow down, then stop, then turn to look at Byerly. There's a part of him that would like to say — like he always does — that By's not going to go mad. There's an even larger part that would like to be petty: fuck you, is that what you think of me.

But the largest part of the three loves Byerly too much and knows too well how sincere his fears are to mess around. Not about this. ]

No. Of course not.

[bouchonne]

[ He didn’t expect Bastien to say anything else. But that doesn’t make it true, what he’s said. It doesn’t mean that he’ll really stay when things get bad. It doesn’t… ]

If you’d forgotten me, I wouldn’t have left your side until you took me back. Until you fell for me again. Or until there was truly no hope.

[ The anger is ebbing, replaced by fear. By sorrow. ]

I wouldn’t have left you alone.

[cozen]

You weren't alone.

[ It's a gentler argument, at least, his tone softened by rapid-onset feeling-like-an-asshole disease. He doesn't doubt it, what Byerly is saying. If their positions were reversed Byerly would have needed to be pried off of him, however ineffective a tactic that turned out to be.

Rat Red grows restless in the crook of his arm. He jostles her like a baby and gives her a finger to fight with. ]

You had our friends, and our colleagues, and our dogs, and your sister. You had Benedict in here protecting you from me.

[bouchonne]

I didn’t have you.

[ He closes his eyes for just a moment. He tries not to think about that miserable life that could have been - always waiting in vain for Bastien’s shadow to return. ]

I’m sorry. I am sorry. I know - I know it was terrible. [ It comes out as a plea: ] Tell me that it was terrible.

[ So that he knows he’s still worth sharing pain with. So that he knows that Bastien won’t just give a debonair smile and disappear. ]

[cozen]

[ A debonair smile, no. But there is something closed off in the more serious look Bastien levels at him. That’s a choice — to let him see it. To not lie. He could look broken if he wanted to. He could sound less like he’s obediently reading his line to try to move the scene along: ]

It was terrible.

[ Uncomfortable, now that he’s said it. He looks at Rat Red instead of at Byerly. She’s only now beginning to look less like a puppy, but her tiny face and outsized ears also mean she’ll always look like a puppy. She’s thrilled to be allowed to gnaw on his fingers without reprimand. She’s not going to make him talk about it. ]

But it was only a week, and no one was dead. Worse has happened. Worse will happen again. Do you want some coffee?

[bouchonne]

I'd like a drink.

[ He immediately regrets saying it - using his own weakness like that, like a weapon against Bastien. He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face - ]

Sorry. Coffee, please - Yes.

[ The fury that staved off fear and sorrow has all but fled, leaving Byerly vulnerable to those cold and miserable feelings. ]

I simply know that - This is the sort of thing that would make you unhappy. You, more than most. Am I wrong?