How It Goes - Part 19
#20 of How It Goes
I had a lot of fun writing his part, even though most of it is out-of-context.
Also. Drama.
The madness of the scriptures have drained Langdon of all energy.
His spell weaves back and forth, fingertips dancing, twiddling, shaping all the letters he can find. His additions to the Atlantean language confuse him. They feel both right and wrong, and he knows he is on the verge of the truth! - but it is a path alongside the edge of a sword, for it might result in his demise as it might his answers.
"You really should sleep," Umbra purrs behind his ears. The spell dissipates as Langdon leaps out of his chair. His desk is knocked over, his candle tumbling to the floor. Cursing under his breath, Langdon silences the flame with a flick of his hand before he turns to the panther - as dark and deadly as the darkness of the room.
"I have told you before, Umbra," Langdon shudders with sharp, angry breaths. "I don't want you sneaking up on me."
"It's almost dawn," the panther murmurs, unfazed. "You really should sleep. How goes your pet project anyway?"
"Poorly," Langdon grumbles. "I'm almost there, almost there, but I can't..."
His body almost keels over. Umbra grabs him firmly by the chest, and the raccoon grunts into the mane of his chest. "Damn you," he yawns. "Damn you for being right about everything."
"I'm flattered. Come on, Langdon, you need rest. I worry for you."
"Like hell you do," Langdon murmurs bitterly. He pushes away from the panther and shakes his head. "I'll go to sleep, just... just leave."
"Very well. Sweet dreams."
"You convinced him to get some sleep?"
"Of course I did," Umbra purrs. "You doubt me too often, Remiel."
"It's in my nature to distrust Guardians, and you know it."
"Yet you Arrows depend so heavily on our intel and guidance." Umbra blows softly on the surface of his teacup before he pulls out the sagged teabag. With his claw he dances over the surface. "And frankly, I'm wounded. I would never go behind your back. Lie and cheat and betray we do, but never our own. Never our own."
"No, I suppose not. Sorry." Remiel finishes her stretching before she unleashes a flurry of punches into empty air. "Will be leaving at the light of first dawn."
"Where to?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Umbra," the badger frowns.
"I ask sincerely," the panther replies. "I respect you - or more accurately, your punches - too much to pry into your personal affairs."
"Keep it that way, then." Remiel glances out the window, and her eyes long for the sun to touch the city. "How's your tea?"
"Simple," Umbra replies as he takes a sip. "As I like it."
"That's good." Her demeanour softens as she reaches for her jacket. "Which reminds me... have you heard from Mordio?"
"I have. His flight was delayed, but he expects to be home tonight."
"Why didn't you just teleport him here?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Remiel," he grins back at her. "You know how important public appearances are to our beloved Mordio. If he were to return so suddenly to our part of town it would draw too much attention. That, and I did ask him. He said no."
"Right." Remiel perks up as a small beam of sunlight pierces through the minuscule gap of the black curtains. "There's my cue. If anyone asks, just...just tell them it's personal business."
"Which it is, of course," Umbra smirks. Remiel glares at him as she grabs her leather jacket.
"See ya." She bounds out of their sanctum in a hurry, and the door slams shut behind her.
"Grumpy as always, isn't she?"
Small and quiet as always, Dumbledore glides into the room in his nightgown rubbing his eyes. Umbra looks up with a smile.
"Ah, Dumbledore," he purrs. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough, thanks." The hamster sits down by the table. "Fix me a cuppa, why don't you?"
"Of course," Umbra replies. He glances over at the kitchen counter across the room. "What flavour?"
"Green, if we got any left."
"Certainly." He drags a teabag out of thin air, and then a teacup, which he places in front of Dumbledore. He then repeats the spell, fetching the still-warm teapot.
"Thanks," he yawns. "And a spoon".
"Demanding this morning, aren't you?"
"You're showing off," he replies with tired eyes, and he scrutinises the panther carefully. "You're excited. I wonder why..."
"Perhaps not a spoon," Umbra replies flatly. "Perhaps a brick would be better."
"I can't help my curiosity," he chuckles. "Besides, I don't need magic to tell what you want. Now give me a spoon, or I will peek."
With rare embarrassment, Umbra snaps his fingers and hands Dumbledore the spoon. He stirs the contents of his cup and mutters softly under his breath, an arcane invocation in the Atlantean tongue. "A peaceful day today for us," he murmurs. "Well, not for me, but..."
"You have personal business?"
"Yes. If you promise not to pry, I promise I won't either," he smiles. He sips and smacks his lips. "Oh, morning tea, what would I do without you?"
"Likely be as grumpy as a certain badger, I suspect," Umbra purrs.
"Oh, goodness, I hope not," he laughs. "What a nightmare that would be."
"Speaking of which," Umbra folds his fingers, his black eyes analysing the hamster carefully. "Do you still suffer your night terrors?"
"It's half seven in the morning, what do you think?" Dumbledore replies weakly. "Yes, I do. Their lucidity fades, and I can't shake them off. I worry sometimes it mightn't be nightmares at all, but sleep paralysis... and if that is the case..."
"That prospect frightens even me," Umbra says seriously. "If only you would let me..."
"I trust my life to you, Umbra, but not my mind," Dumbledore sighs, with a shake of his head. "I do appreciate the offer, but I decline."
"Libertines and their pride," the panther smiles sardonically.
"A bit rich coming from you," Dumbledore retorts cheerfully. He finishes his tea and rises from his seat, and then he winks. "Thanks for the talk. Good luck tonight."
Langdon stumbles out of bed, his cheeks wet with terror and his body trembling. The darkness of the room seems more prominent before, and he whimpers when his attempts to conjure light fails. Then there is a flick of a switch, and the ceiling lamp flashes brightly, painfully.
"Who's there," he whimpers.
"Just me," Umbra replies. "You look terrible. Bad dreams?"
"Shit dreams," Langdon sighs. He still shivers as he moves towards Umbra, but when he tries to make his way past the panther, Umbra blocks his path. "Get out of the way."
"You're distressed," Umbra purrs softly.
"Where's Remiel?" Langdon looks over his shoulder, but sees only the empty hallway of their second floor.
"Out. Personal business."
"What about Dumbledore?"
"Also out. Personal business." Umbra grins as he levels his face with Langdon's. "It's just you and me."
"Oh fuck no", Langdon growls, though it is a pitiful, quiet rumble. "Just let me shower."
Umbra still blocks his path. "Why do I make you so uncomfortable?"
"You know why," Langdon grunts. He tries to push the panther away, but his frame is weak and his stature small. "You're a warlock, you always toy with people's emotions. My emotions."
"Oh, it is well within my grasp, yes," Umbra replies softly, "But you are attracted to me."
"No, I'm not," Langdon flushes angrily. The raccoon tries to leave his room more forcibly, and this time Umbra steps aside.
"You should stop lying to yourself," the panther calls after him as the raccoon races towards the bathroom.
"Lying to myself?" he retorts furiously, and he turns around. "You're the one who made me attracted to you!"
"Made you?" Umbra chuckles, though it is a cold, hollow laugh. "I don't create. Creation is too obvious. Too blunt." The raccoon, frozen, watches the panther approach slowly, with dangerous gold eyes. "Creation leads to questions. A grieving widow, suddenly happy? A joyous child, filled with inexplicable grief? No, Langdon. I don't do that. I see what's there, all the doubt and the joy and the fear, the surface of that vast ocean of emotions, and I tug on one string, the string I want, and I amplify it."
The panther towers over Langdon, who clings to the wall with cold, hard defiance in his eyes. "Fine, you're amplifying," he sneers weakly. "Just... just stop using your magic on me, stop fucking with me."
Umbra kneels down so their faces are level. The smile on his lips is mischievous, yet solemn, almost pitying. "I haven't used a single spell today after Dumbledore left, Langdon. Three hours ago. I watched television. Law and Order. Oprah. Glee. Then it was four o'clock, and I figured that you should get out of bed soon. I find you alone, and terrified. I don't need magic to read you. I don't need magic to see what you want."
Langdon bites his lower lip, and his glare is ever-defiant. He opens his mouth to speak, but only an angry hiss escapes his throat.
"You are attracted to me," Umbra whispers softly, one black paw resting on Langdon's shoulder. "And I feel the same way."
"Fine! You're right! You win!" Langdon shouts, as he pushes the panther's paw off his shoulder. "What do you want with me?"
"A bit of fun," Umbra whispers, licking his lips. "You and me. Alone. Passion. Raw desire, hard fucking with you on top or bottom, don't really care which is which. I want you, Langdon. Is that so terrible?"
"You're lying," Langdon says automatically as he presses harder against the wall. His voice is suddenly trembling. "You're a guardian. That's what you do."
"I lie a lot, yes," Umbra replies slowly. "It is what I do. It's what I have to do. But I would never betray my cabal. I would never betray you. You guys are my rocks. And I happen to be very fond of the rock right in front of me. What good would it do me to lie to you?"
"You'd get laid," Langdon replies through gritted teeth.
"That would do me good," Umbra agrees, "But it would break you. We Mastigoi do delve in secrets, yes. We relish our power over the mind. The thing is, a warlock can break you, snap, like a twig. It is fucking terrifying, I know. Trust me, I know. However, I don't want to break you. If I had wanted to do that, I could have forced your hand so often, so dangerously. You couldn't handle what happened last week. You couldn't pull the trigger. I did it for you to spare you the pain. I did it so you wouldn't break, Langdon."
Langdon only stares into the golden pools right in front of him, his arms weaker than before. Umbra doesn't smile, doesn't sneer, simply returns the look with every furrow intent on convincing the raccoon.
"I don't want you to break, is that so hard to understand?"
"How do you know this won't break me?" Langdon replies as angrily as he can, yet his voice cracks.
"Because you keep lying to yourself," Umbra whispers. "You need to be true to yourself, or you really will break. I know you won't trust me, and that's fine. Those are the consequences of my actions. But please, please, trust me on this. If nothing else in the world, this."
Langdon opens his muzzle to speak, but no words come out. His lips remain parted and his body calms down, yet he still trembles. Umbra very gently places one of his jet-black paws on the raccoon's cheek, and when Langdon doesn't flail or pull away, he leans forward, slowly, until their lips touch.
"Yeah, okay, let's end the scene," Bax interrupts hurriedly, almost angrily.
"Yeah, please, just..." Scott mutters, his cheeks afire. Cecil and Duke are both laughing. Franz looks exasperated, hand on his forehead and head shaking slowly. Bax rolls his eyes, but Scott's gaze is fixed on Oscar only. The white bear looks embarrassed, with a face plainly saying he wished he was elsewhere.
"Dude," Franz says as his hand limply hits the table. "I know I missed the first session and all, but that's just... you are creepy."
"What can I say," Duke chuckles, "I thought I'd give you a treat. It was worth it just to see Scott's face."
"Yeah, thanks," Scott replies flatly.
"Seriously though, I wanted to try something new," Duke laughs. "Just felt that chemistry between Umbra and Langdon. Sorry if I took it too far."
"Maybe a bit, but..." Scott replies slowly. "I enjoyed the idea. I like it."
"Sounds good, then," Duke nods. Cecil snickers next to Scott still. "So, what next?"
"Think we'll call it," Bax says with a sideways glance at Oscar. The bear nods and rises from his chair, and scurries out of the living room into his own room. "Anyone need a lift?"
"I'll walk," Scott shrugs.
"If you could," Cecil grins.
"Count me in, yeah," Duke agrees.
"Sure," Franz nods. Scott surveys the dormouse with some fascination. The bright sunshine fur was almost enough to distract from the more prominent feature: his size. When he had followed Duke into the apartment, Scott had not failed to notice that Oscar was, despite Franz's rodent ancestry, the shortest guy in the room.
"Right. Need a piss first, so be right back." Bax closes the toilet door behind him; the rabbit gets up to stretch his feet, while Franz and Duke start discussing their characters. Scott too gets on his feet, his rear rather numb, and he looks over at Cecil.
"Was fun, though, right?" Cecil asks as he sways on the balls of his feet.
"Yeah, I guess..."
Scott looks over at where Oscar left the room, and splays an ear.
"You busy this weekend?"
"Huh? No," Scott replies absently as he snaps back to Cecil. "Why?"
The bunny pulls Scott away and says, in hushed tones, "Why not throw that party this weekend?"
"I... I guess?" Scott replies, now anxious.
"Invite the guys here, and your mates, see what happens." Cecil winks.
"I suppose now's a good a time as any..." Scott pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I'll ask dad."
"I thought you had your own apartment," Cecil whispers.
"Shenanigans with Brian happened," Scott replies quietly. He dials his father. "Not been there since Sunday... Okay, hold on."
The wolf makes his way over to the front door, and steps out into the warm evening wind. He calls his father.
"Hello?"
"Hey dad."
"Everything okay?" Charles asks immediately, and Scott can tell from the background silence that his father muted the television.
"Yeah, everything's well. I was wondering," Scott feels hesitation creep up his voice. "Could I maybe host a party at home?"
"A party? Here?" Charles's tone is incredulous. "Couldn't you just do it at your flat?"
"Things haven't been great between me and Brian lately," Scott admits, and his other ear falls. "Been with Theo this week, actually."
"I'm sorry to hear. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, but thanks." Scott's eyes wander down the street, which carries quite a few other people, couples or otherwise.
"So, this party," Charles carries on. "What kind of party?"
Scott contemplates for a moment. "Dinner, snacks, maybe a film?"
"Sounds innocent enough for me. I'll take the trip up to Atherton for the weekend so you'll have the house for yourself."
"Thanks, dad."
"You have a good weekend. Love you, son."
"Love you too, dad."
They hang up. Scott buries his phone in his pocket and heads inside to find the others putting on their coats.
"Oh, there you are," Bax says as he looks up. "Thought you'd forgotten your coat."
"Had to make a call." Scott looks at Cecil, who cocks his head, and then away. "I was wondering if you guys would maybe want to come over tomorrow for a... a party?"
"Party?" Duke replies enthusiastically. "What kind of party."
"Dinner and snacks, I guess? Never really had one before." Scott looks up and grimaces. The four of them all look at him. "I mean..."
"More of a mellow thing, I suppose?" Franz nods, thoughtful. "Not much drinking either, right?"
"I'd prefer not, to be honest. I mean, I guess a beer or two is fine, but..."
"Sign me up, don't like it myself," Franz smiles. He zips his jacket.
"Could I bring my girlfriend?" Duke inquires as he bends down to tie his shoes.
"...Girlfriend?" Cecil remarks as he looks at Duke. Scott looks at the deer, his pink shirt suddenly out of place.
"Yes, girlfriend," Duke replies with the weariness of somebody who has answered the question a hundred times before. "I might come off as a bit queer, but, well, Bax turned me off men."
He winks at Bax, who simply shakes his head.
"Well, I'd planned on getting wasted tomorrow, so I dunno..." Bax says as he slips into his own jacket. "When were you planning on starting anyway?"
"Six o'clock?"
"Sounds good, means Bax can drive and then fuck off to the Ox," Duke gives Bax a friendly shove, to which the lion responds with a death glare.
"Careful," Bax hisses.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry and all that," Duke shrugs. "That's what you were planning on anyway."
"Yeah, okay, fine, guess I'll show up then," Bax grunts. "Where?"
"In Wolvercote. 6thEmery's Close."
"Right. If I'm driving any of you, you meet up here at five." Bax sighs and he produces his keys from one of his pockets. "Right, best be on our way. Talk to you tomorrow, Scott."
There's a murmur of thanks and farewells until Scott is left alone in the hallway of Bax and Oscar's flat. He waits until he hears the car drive off before he awkwardly makes his way to Oscar's bedroom door. Then he knocks. "Oscar?"
"Who is it?"
"Scott."
"Oh..." The creaking sound of a bed is followed by footsteps, and then the door opens. Oscar's mismatched eyes peer out at him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Oscar says as he stifles a sniffle. "I mean... no, not really."
"Can I do anything to cheer you up?"
Oscar opens his bedroom door slightly. Scott enters to a dimly lit, somewhat cosy if not cluttered space. A single lamp lights up the room through a red shade. A laptop on the desk - inactive - sits next to Oscar's heavy headphones. The walls are draped with several posters; Scott recognises them all: a poster of Aigis; the demi-fiend surrounded by the four Riders, Hell Biker, Trumpeter and Mother Harlot; Serph and Sera's fusion; a painting of Koromaru...
"Who painted that?" Scott asks as he points to the painting above Oscar's bed.
"I did," Oscar mutters. The bear sits down in the bed and looks away, his fingers twiddling. Scott sits down too, and finds himself mimicking the bear. "I'm not very good."
"I think you are," Scott replies as he glances up at the bear.
"You're just saying that."
"Do you really believe that?"
Oscar looks up, and their eyes meet. The bear's smile is grim. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," Scott replies softly. He reaches for Oscar's hand, and the bear eagerly reciprocates, his fingers wrapping tight around Scott's. "Listen, I'm having a party tomorrow at my place, and I would really like it if you could come too."
"A party?"
"Yeah... I invited the rest of the group as well."
"I've never been to a party before..." Oscar looks away again.
"I think it's probably going to be more like...hanging out with friends, except I cook food?" Scott hums. "I have no idea, I never hosted a party before. I want to hang out with you all, though... and introduce you all to my other friends."
"Will your boyfriend be there?"
"I think so," Scott replies uncertainly.
"I don't..." Oscar shakes his head. "I don't want that rubbed in my face."
Scott lowers his head. "I want you to meet him. I want to know if you two get along, if... If there's any chance that I can... that maybe we could... ugh, this is so messed up."
The wolf looks at the bear, with not a word on his lips. Oscar raises his head every now and then to look at Scott, but the moments are short-lived. Eventually...
"You really want me to come?"
"Yes. I really do." Scott squeezes Oscar's hand tighter.
"Okay," Oscar sniffles. "Okay, I'll come."
"Thank you." Scott smiles and pulls the bear into a hug, which Oscar reciprocates with equal fervour. Scott gently pushes the bear onto his back, at first to protests, but then to inaudible whispers, into silence. Oscar strengthens the hug as they roll to the side. Their foreheads touch and Oscar's breath washes over Scott.
He doesn't let go.
"You slept with him?" Theo asks bitterly. Scott shakes his head in the gentle morning rain, desperately trying to cover his phone.
"Feel asleep with him," Scott repeats heavily. "He was sad, I was sad, we hugged, we tumbled over, before I knew it I woke up at six..."
"Jegus, Scott..."
"I'm sorry." Scott sits down in the bus shelter. Across the road the trees and their leaves dance with the wind, a sombre duet. "I'm so sorry, Theo."
"I'm scared, Scott," Theo whimpers. "I don't want to be that guy, but could you not..."
"I'm having a party tonight," Scott interjects sombrely. "I invited the group. Oscar too. I want you to come. I want you two to meet."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Theo mutters.
"Please. I... I need some answers. I'm so confused, Theo. It's cruel, what I'm doing to both of you." Scott kicks away the nearest pebble on the ground, and watches it slip into the gutter. He bites his lower lip. "I wish I never met him."
"Scott... Look, it's okay," Theo sniffles for the last time. "It's okay. I trust you, I do. I'm just scared. I don't want to lose you."
"I don't want to lose you either, but I..." Scott grits his teeth. "But I'm being an idiot."
"A bit of one," Theo laughs weakly. "Okay, so... about that party..."
"It's at my dad's, they're showing up sometime before six o'clock."
"Should I come earlier?"
"I could use some help with the cooking..."
"I'll try." Theo's voice is steady. "You had a practise exam today too?"
"Yeah. Psychology." Scott stares at the pavement, and watches ants crawl towards the lawn behind the shelter. "I'm nervous."
"I know what you mean," Theo replies, his voice still steady. "I got law. I should've studied harder, but..."
"My bus is here," Scott says sadly as he looks up. No. 21 rumbles up to the shelter, devoid of people but the driver. "Good luck with your exam."
"You too, Scott." There's a moment quiet as the bus doors open. "I love you, Scott."
"I love you too, Theo," Scott replies. "Fucking hell I do."
There's a chuckle from the other end of the line. "See you later, Scott."
The bear hangs up, and Scott flashes his ticket to the driver. He picks a window seat in the centre of the bus, and once seated, searches his phone for another number.
"Hello?" a yawn responds on the other end of the line.
"Oh. Tom. Hey."
"You woke me up." The otter yawns and sighs.
"I'm sorry."
"You sound down."
"We can talk about it later. Look, I'm having a party tonight at my dad's, and-"
"You? A party?" There's a short bark of a laugh, stifled by a loud, long yawn.
"Yeah, well, just... friends and food and snacks." Scott gazes out the window, at the passing cars: green, white, grey, gold. "Lamest party in the world."
"Sounds like it," Tom agrees with a heavy sigh. "Fuck I am so tired..."
"I want you to come, Tom," Scott pleads quietly. "I miss you."
"I've work, you know that..."
"Just... one night? Couldn't you take a night off? Or... or a later shift?"
Tom remains quiet for a long while. The bus stops and a mother guiding her son enters, chatting frantically in a foreign tongue. "Yeah, I guess I could take a later shift. I miss you too, y'know."
"Really?"
"Of course I do, you idiot," Tom groans. Then he sighs, and what seems like the inevitable question is asked. "Will Brian be there?"
Scott's lips tighten. "No. I'm not inviting him."
"Huh? Not that I'm complaining, but why not?"
"I'll tell you about it tonight."
"Yeah, okay." There's another moan, followed by a loud crack. "Sorry, stretching... listen, can I bring a workmate?"
"I... yeah, I guess?"
"Great. Look, I need sleep. I'll try to be there at five or something."
"Okay. Sleep tight."
"Yeah, thanks... and good luck with your practise exam." Scott stops for a moment as Tom hangs up, and gazes at the screen. Its illuminated surface darkens momentarily, and as Scott watches his own reflection his thoughts wander.