Backdated to April 4
Julian felt sick.
He hadn't been to Dering in weeks.
He hadn't written to Cyril.
He hadn't powered up until now, and it was only out of guilt and obligation that he'd slunk off to the park. He left before dawn, but he didn't pack lunch or supplies, and he almost turned back twice. There was a storm on the horizon, and the air was thick with humidity.
Like Destiny City was telling him to go home, go hide.
It wasn't cold enough for him to be trembling the way he was, but it felt more like winter than spring.
When he made it to the park, it took him fifteen minutes to power up, and towards the end, when he was actually trying, it was like the magic was just out of reach, anyway.
And then, it came to him, in a dizzying rush. Relief went over his head; he desperately clung to the magic, to Dering, and forced himself to his wonder before it could change his mind.
It wasn't the usual relaxing trip he'd come to look forward to.
Everything felt wrong. He was dizzy, and his lute felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
It wasn't raining on Dering, but it felt muggy and cold and dark. The shadows felt sickly and stretched towards him like snakes crawling across the too-tall grass. The wind rushed in his ears, deafening. He couldn't hear anything around him--couldn't hear his own thoughts, and then--
"Julian!"
Cyril was in front of him wearing an expression Julian had never seen before--like he was the one staring at a ghost. He was gaunt, like he'd been wasting away, but there was a spark of relief in his expression, too.
The guilt worsened, so powerful now that the world tilted on its axis. He was on his feet but he couldn't feel the ground beneath them. He thought he said sorry, but he couldn't hear his voice, and he wasn't even sure his mouth moved. He tried again but heard nothing, and unsure if it was his ears or his voice, his stomach flopped, too.
"Julian," Cyril said--so not his ears, but everything felt wrong. Cyril's hand went to Julian's cheek instinctively, and though both of them knew he had no physical form, for a second Julian thought he could feel a strange weight beneath his fingers. It was gone as soon as it registered, but Julian's eyes snapped up. Cyril's hand stayed still.
Their eyes stayed locked. Julian didn't have to speak.
Cyril knew. Not the facts, not the story, but the way Julian was carrying the weight of it.
He was used to reading people, and Julian had never been so obvious. It was like all the walls he kept up had been broken down, and maybe he'd stacked the bricks back up but it wasn't perfect.
Julian's lips were chapped but his eyes were wet. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollow. Every muscle in his face was tight and trembling, from his brows to his lips. He shrunk beneath Cyril, not enough to pull away, but enough that he looked so small.
Cyril hadn't seen him like this. Timid, jumpy, worried.
Of course he wanted answers. He just knew better than to ask.
Julian's mouth opened and closed several times over, so Cyril broke the silence. His voice was even--gentle, and calm, despite his earlier outburst.
"It's good to see you. You look a little green. Come sit down."
Julian nodded, and was so eager to earn favor with Cyril that he nearly tripped over himself while walking to the tree they often sat together. Cyril saw, but pretended not to. He talked the whole way, but it took several seconds for Julian to actually process his words.
"I'm sure you know I was worried about you. It's good to see you, I'm happy you're here. I expected the worst. I hope you'll forgive my anxiety."
"No," Julian said, hardly more than a rasp, but because he realized how poor his word choice was, he was quick to correct, "You don't have anything to apologize for, I mean."
His voice didn't quite sound like his, not really at full volume yet, and not confident at all. Every word spoken was as if bracing for rebuke.
Cyril didn't rush him, nor did he return Julian's anxious energy. He simply absorbed it, and modeled what mood he hoped Julian could adopt.
Calm. Patient. Unflustered.
Julian tried. It was evident in the way he positioned himself in the same way Cyril did, but it didn't take long before he had curled into himself and shrunk into the deep seat of the tree roots.
Cyril waited, not long, but Julian continued absorbing guilt. "I should have come sooner, or written, or--"
"Did you take care of whatever you needed to?" Cyril interrupted, and Julian lost his voice again. A moment later, he shrugged, so Cyril asked, "It was important, wasn't it?"
Julian thought for a moment, and then nodded. His fingers had smoothed the fabric over his knees several times over, and he was picking at it like he could pluck off individual specs of dust.
"Then apologize for nothing. You don't owe me an explanation, and I expect you not to force one. Tell me if you want, but not because you have to. I do not demand it of you. Do you understand?"
No, not really. It didn't make much sense to Julian at all, who was ready to beg for forgiveness, to tear himself open and let every dark secret spill out if it meant Cyril might forgive him, might accept him.
To have that for no cost felt like a trap, so he shrugged. A nod felt dishonest, and Cyril could see right through him already.
Cyril was not upset by this answer. His shoulders eased and he leaned closer, not so much that he was in Julian's space, but enough that Julian didn't have to doubt that the proximity was wanted.
"Julian," he said again, gently, and was rewarded with Julian's eyes on his, "Is everyone at home okay?"
Julian didn't think for long before nodding. Cyril trusted him.
"Are you okay?"
The nod was instant, and Julian's eyes fell. Cyril did not trust him.
"Okay. Do you want to go visit the waterfall today?"
It caught Julian by surprise. Words failed him again, but this time simply because the question was so different from what he expected that his brain hit a roadbump.
Which Cyril anticipated. He knew how easy it was for Julian to get caught up in his thoughts, especially when he spent so long overthinking what he should say. It was getting easier to knock those thoughts a little off track. It wasn't a real reset, but it was close enough.
When Julian didn't know how he should answer, he defaulted to nodding.
"It rained while you were away. I'm sure you can tell," Cyril said, gesturing to the overgrown grass.
"I'm sorry. I'll take care of it."
"Not today, it can wait. This forest grew unchecked well before you were born. I don't mind a little overgrowth. Besides, you're stretched thin. I can see that you haven't been sleeping well."
Panic churned in Julian's gut, but before it could take hold, Cyril stood and gestured for him to follow. "I think there are fish eggs in the river. I can't tell, I need your eyes."
Julian's mouth fell open, then closed, and then confusion replaced everything else. "What?"
"Come on, hurry up," Cyril urged. He didn't look behind him, and found that Julian was quicker to follow when he could trail a few steps behind. Cyril watched his shadow while they walked. Julian didn't try to shrink away so much when there were no eyes on him. Cyril explained, "I've been visiting the waterfall more since we went. Things don't change much around here, so I noticed it as soon as the sun hit the water."
A brief silence followed, but Julian managed to work his voice into something a bit more than a whisper. "Um--but, eggs, that would--I mean, wouldn't something have to hatch them?"
"One would think. But I've seen no fish."
It didn't feel like a trap, but Julian treated it like every step was the wrong one. He waited a moment longer, to make sure he wasn't interrupting Cyril, and then asked, "...Do you think they're hiding?"
"Maybe. I don't know where to look. I don't do so well in the water."
Julian picked up the pace enough that he was only about four steps behind Cyril. "Can you swim?" he asked, cradling his lute to his chest while they walked through the tall, clinging grass.
"A bit, in life. It's harder without a body. I can't wrap my head around it. Can you swim?"
"Um--no. I've never had a reason to need to."
Cyril stepped over a fallen log, not that he needed to, but Julian had been out of it even before he got here. "That's fine. I don't think you'll need to. I wouldn't want you swimming near the waterfall, anyway. The river probably won't go past your stomach at its deepest, but the current might not want to keep you on your feet. We'll play it safe."
"Okay," Julian said, now only three steps behind Cyril. "Um, how do you know they're eggs? It's not--I'm not doubting you," he insisted. "I've just never--"
"Intuition," Cyril interrupted, too eager to drive Julian away from self-reproach to mind his manners. The faster he could curb that train of thought, the better. "And familiarity. I used to see them often, closer to winter than spring. They look like little diamonds, about the size of a pea, all in a cluster."
Julian, two steps behind. "They sound beautiful."
"They are. The fish are even more beautiful."
"What, um, what do they look like?"
"It's their scales that are remarkable. I suppose without them, they'd just look like ordinary river fish. They're called Jewel Fish, and their scales are called River Jewels. They're silver mostly, a bit pearlescent. They've got a peculiar sheen that changes in the lighting, but those scales were highly coveted. Small, durable, beautiful. They could be polished like stones, but they're beautiful on their own."
Only one step behind Cyril, Julian tried to imagine this. He nodded, but was certain the image in his head paled in comparison to what reality must have been. Cyril had a way of talking that made Julian want to listen. Words fell from his lips and painted a picture as well as any brush on canvas. Julian didn't speak for a long moment, and to fill the silence, Cyril described the fish in more detail, and when he'd finished doing that, he described a few other river fish as well.
Julian carried a great deal of tension, but the longer they walked, the lighter it felt. Every few steps he felt a flicker of panic, trying to surge back into place, but Cyril seemed so unbothered that it had nowhere to take root. Though Julian's gaze was mostly cemented to the ground, with the comfortable excuse that he was watching his step, he found the willpower to drag his eyes up to Cyril's face a few times.
Just quick glances. He never looked deeply. Only enough to see that Cyril looked no different than usual. His expression was always somewhat bland, like it was just a little too much effort to express emotion. And yet, Julian watched as Cyril's brows raised, and as he tilted his head slightly.
Was it intentional? Or was he letting his guard down?
Julian couldn't tell--nor could he stare. Not just because it was rude, or risked drawing more attention to himself, but because he stumbled over a knotted weed. The panic was back, and worry, and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Cyril--
Had slowed down. Looked at the plant, not Julian. Waited for Julian to untangle himself. And then, when Julian was free, kept talking like it hadn't happened at all.
It took two more minutes to reach the waterfall. The closer they got, the cooler it was. The trees were less dense here, and a breeze followed the river. The spray cast off by the cascading water created a thin mist, and shimmered like each little drop held a rainbow.
He saw the shimmer in the river almost as soon as he joined Cyril at the river's edge--a pile of pea-sized diamonds, nestled deep and spilling out from a nook between two moss covered rocks.
Julian stared. Probably for a minute. Cyril didn't interrupt it, just let him look. Eventually, Julian crouched low to the ground and looked a little closer.
"...What do we do?" he asked quietly, as if afraid he might wake them.
The waterfall, only twelve feet tall, made more noise than his voice ever could. Cyril looked at it before Julian, and then crouched next to him. "Nothing, I suppose. We wait. I can stay here and keep an eye out. Will you be able to find the path here from the clearing?"
Julian looked over his shoulder, surveying the trees and tangle of wild grass and shrubs that led here. A moment passed before he said quietly, "I don't think so. I'm sorry."
"Why? You've been here twice. The forest has swallowed most of the landmarks. Maybe we should put that on the list of things to do. I'd like to keep bringing you here."
"I'd like to keep coming here."
Sometimes Julian agreed just to be agreeable, but Cyril did not doubt that he meant this. He'd been enthralled by the waterfall his first visit here, and something youthful had been drawn out of him. He'd wanted to splash in it, to play, but Cyril watched how Julian restrained. He'd hoped this visit would bring him out of his shell a little more, but something had happened between the last trip and this one. Cyril didn't know what it was, and might never, but Julian was here, leaning forward and peering into the stream.
A cloud still hung over his head, but with something else to focus on, Julian had devoted himself to that instead. Cyril expected Julian might have anticipated more groveling was required to restore their relationship, but it would have been a waste of time for both of them.
Nothing changed between them.
Julian had worried for nothing. Cyril had worried for nothing.
"Good," Cyril said. "Because the more you're here, the more work I'll find for you. If you're up to it."
Naturally, Julian nodded. "Anything." He hadn't taken his eyes off of the eggs for long, but now he was looking through the water. No fish, no scales. But he looked anyway.
A question was coming. Cyril could see it in the way Julian started twisting his hands, and the way his lips pressed together tightly. Finally, the inhale. "Cyril?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think--could we walk up and down the river a little?"
It was an easy question. Julian didn't need permission. What, could Cyril stop him?
No, it wasn't like that. Julian wanted permission, and he wanted company. He respected this space as Cyril's, and he trusted him.
And he was asking for something. Something easy.
"Good idea," Cyril answered, and flickered back to his feet while Julian pushed himself up.
Cyril had already walked the river a bit in both directions, part to look and part to pace. Being dead with anxious energy to burn was an unfortunate combination, and with his mind elsewhere--
Maybe he'd missed something.
Probably not. But Julian didn't need to know that, and he should be more confident in himself and his ideas. Even now, he seemed like he'd brightened a bit.
It wasn't quite excitement, and not really hope, but it was something.
Cyril would work with something.
