Quen's NedCan Drabbles

Names: Christian - Luxembourg Odd - Norway

It’s no longer home.

After Daan had walked out into the storm into certain death, Matthieu had raged. First came the denial - it hadn’t happened, or clearly, the other man must have lied to get Matthieu to stop him from trying to save him. After a while, Matthieu had to face the truth: the confession had simply felt too real. Desperate but real.

Then the fury came - roaring against the man who had taken his food and space, and squirmed into his heart, but more than that, it roared against Matthieu himself. Matthieu had saved the man’s life, had decided to share a part of himself on his own. Why was Matthieu always so stupid?

When the fury finally abated, all that remained was a hollow emptiness, and shame. Matthieu had chosen to save a man because it was the right thing to do. Whatever “right” meant anymore in this world. Maybe he truly was stupid, maybe doing the “right” thing was the path to death and pain and nothing else now. Still, Matthieu had long ago decided that he would rather hide from the world than be forced to do things he did not wish to, in order to survive. Here, he learned that doing right or wrong barely mattered - he helped someone, and this was what he had earned.

Matthieu didn’t know how much time had passed that night before he eventually tried to follow after the creature - not for concern but out of anger. He wanted to do the exact thing that it seemed desperate for him not to do. Even though the loupgarou had made a futile attempt to block his door, it wasn’t difficult for Matthieu to open it. But it wasn’t the door or the feeble attempt at stopping Matthieu that actually stopped him. It was nature itself.

White upon white, the wind howled with the same rage that howled through Matthieu’s own heart. He wanted to scream into it but he couldn’t. Spit would freeze before hitting the ground at these temperatures - no sky, no ground. Could he die if we ventured out on some mad quest for vengeance? Absolutely. A great part of him was tempted - cold numbs everything. Before the end Matthieu would finally be numb to all pain, he would no longer feel his flesh protesting his folly, he would no longer feel the tear deep within his heart, the heavy weariness in his eyes, or the pounding in his head.

Ultimately it’s the same fury that saves him. If he’s going to die, it’s not going to be for that thing. Matthieu has done his part. If it dies, it dies. If it...he…no...Leve...oh God.

Matthieu throws his door shut in rage and helplessness and screams. He screams and keeps screaming until there’s no voice left. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t keep feeling, he doesn’t want to be this raw, he has to...he…

There. Matthieu crawls over to his chosen supply chest and pulls out the old bottle of rum - a curiosity purchase he had traded a pelt for a few years back. Usually he only drinks it to help numb the pain after stitching up a particularly painful wound, but tonight is different. Matthieu tosses the bottle back and gulps it down like water after a scorching day. He lets the fire burn through him - through the back of his throat, settling in his belly, but most importantly, it burns through his mind, banishing feelings he wishes were never there to begin with.

Matthieu does eventually try to look for him. After the hangover, after doing all the practical things he can think of doing, by the third day he can stand it no more. Even though it’s going to be useless, Matthieu sets out to find...something, anything. Some hint of a body, or fight or…

“There are many things that can survive a storm like this.”

Matthieu shakes off the chilling hope at the memory of those words and walks.

He loses count of the days that he searches to no avail. He’s also lucky that he’s stored extra with the expectation of needing to feed and house an extra person, but eventually that also runs out. He had even brought along the creature’s hand-drawn map from the many papers he had left behind - Matthieu hates it, but the Loupgarou had mapped the surrounding terrain with incredible detail and it would have been foolish to leave such a useful tool behind.

Purposefully or not, as the weather warms, Matthieu travels farther and farther from his little cabin, setting up traps, gathering food and other needed materials, hunting when he needs to, and sleeping under the temporary shelters he builds from the branches he finds. When he has time, he expands the map as best he can. It’s not as accurate as the Loupgarou’s but it fulfills its purpose.

When the snows have completely melted, he backtracks, circling the cabin from afar and closes in. There’s no body to be found but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Months have passed, the werewolf could have been dragged away or eaten by other hungry animals or humans even, scavenging in the winter. He could have…

Matthieu sighs and looks down at his feet in front of the door. The snows have melted, green has started to show itself in the fresh beginnings of spring, but Matthieu still feels the emptiness of winter howling within him. He looks at the cabin, once the only home he chose, but now it’s just dried wood and something he can’t recognize. Matthieu looks around him and it’s already painful. He feels the absence of Leverett where the wood stacks are piled, all around this now neglected little haven he once had. Now he knows that if he walks inside the ache will be worse, that he’s been avoiding coming back because that means he will have to face reality, no matter how irrational -

It’s no longer a home.

And he knows, he knows that that man (he can’t say his name anymore) that man deserves his curse, deserves his fate. Matthieu thought he had taken in a man in need of help, he was wrong. He had taken in a wendigo into his home, into his-

Not anymore.

Matthieu stands, he doesn’t even open the door, he can’t. He turns, and goes where the wind takes him.

---

Six years later

The full-time wandering lifestyle suits Matthieu. Before (before), as a part-time coureur des bois , he did caught enough to get what he needed to hide and retreat to his cabin for periods of time. Now he has developed a comfort of sleeping anywhere - in the woods, on his canoe, a floor, an inn, it did not matter - Matthieu finds rest in his wandering. It is harder to be an independent coureur these days, regulations were turning most into owned employees of fur trading companies - voyageours . Matthieu did not feel like being owned. He could handle independent contracts between two people, or even small groups, but if he were going to sign himself away, he would have stayed with the Jesuits.

New France was changing once again. Once he would have cared, once that change would have terrified him. Now Matthieu has grown numb. Life is change, New France is simply some idea that the Europeans had come up with, the land had already been here before it was renamed. Tomorrow who knows? They may change the name again.

People changed. The idea of a new name is no longer so significant to Matthieu, people live short lives and they are meant to change. He now knows many people who have had more than one name in their lifetime. Ironically, his own name never changed, but he had.

Matthieu inhales deeply from the pipe again, letting the sweet flavor rush into him before breathing it out. “This is the best tobacco I have smoked in a long time!”

The man sitting across from him smiles just like he does - like his mother did, and her older sister did. Maybe Matthieu is imagining it, but he’s hoping he isn’t. Some things, time cannot change. The Haudenossaunee may have taken his cousin and given him a new name, as was the post-war custom (at least, Matthieu is pretty sure that this Mohawk warrior/trader called Odeserundiye is his cousin), this is the same boy who took it upon himself to always make sure that odd little Matthiue had been included. The same boy who had always been the most adaptable of them all.

Matthieu wonders if he’s right, if he’s imagining it, if Odeserundiye recognizes him, or is playing along for the sake of a good business relationship, or if there’s some kind of funny charade that they’re both going along with here.

“Best batch of the year!” Odeserundiye boasts. “Worth some of your best pelts.” As the bargaining began in earnest, there were forms to be observed - of course both of them were terribly inconvenienced, no the tobacco wasn’t that good, the pelts not that important. Bargaining is a pretty terrible charade at the end of the day, but a necessary part of the process. Shame, because Matthieu is terrible at it, and only gets through it by pretending to be someone else. It makes him grit his teeth painfully, but it kind of works.

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to be toothless before you hit old age.” Odeserundiye laughs. “And there’s no reason for you not to grow ripe and old. I used to think you were an angry wanderer but now I think I’ve figured it out - I only see you when we have business to do and you just hate bargaining so you make that face. Well if that’s the case, don’t bother, just be yourself.”

Matthieu has to laugh back, all relaxed now. “Yes, you would prefer that wouldn’t you? Then I’ll be limping back to Montreal naked and unarmed because I’ve given you everything for a handful of tobacco.”

Odeserundiye smiles fondly, and that familiar face pulls at Matthieu’s chest. “Relax, relax. Just enjoy the moment.” Matthieu inhales another long drag from the pipe and slowly breathes it out. After a long pause of taking Odeserundiye’s advice, Matthieu focuses on enjoying the sound of the river next to them, as they comfortably sit along its banks.

Eventually the other man breaks the silence. “If you’re willing to take advice, I already like doing business with you. I wouldn’t let you limp back anywhere unarmed and vulnerable - it means losing a good trading partner.”

Matthieu snorts. “I can handle myself.”

“I am sure that you can...you’re alive after all. You’re one of the very few independents still around, still thriving. You can probably continue doing this, but the companies are taking over. It’ll be difficult to survive as an independent for long.”

The contented mood is broken, and Matthieu exhales his smoke this time in frustration. “Why do we always have to accommodate them? They come here, with their new things, and they destroy everything. I was perfectly happy living here before they brought their guns, I was perfectly happy living on my own before I had to sell them fur again, and I have been content as an independent agent. What else will they ruin?”

“No you were not.”

Matthieu turns sharply and peers at his smoking partner, who slowly inhales from his pipe and lets the smoke out from his nose. “No one is perfectly happy all the time. I am guessing your father is one of them, you favor him. You still speak with the accent of the People of the Bear, so you must have been raised as a child with your mother’s people. While there are many children among our nations with European fathers, it is rare to favor them as much as you do; blonde-haired and pale-skinned. Perhaps your mother herself had some voyageur blood as well. It cannot have been easy, looking so different from everyone else-”

“I had a family!” Matthieu hasn’t felt this pain in a long time, he’s used to clamping it down. “They took care of me. They would have continued taking care of me, people would have gotten used to me eventually.”

Odeserundiye simply looks at him, assessing and sad. “I have lost three mothers. My first died of the pox, so my first mother’s sister adopted me. She was killed in the war, and I was given to a new mother in place of the son that she had lost. My third mother was killed in a retaliatory raid. Clearly they succeeded, but it never brought any of my mothers back. Matthieu, there has been war for as long as I can remember. If business is the price of whatever form of peace we have now, I will take it.”

Matthieu does not know where his temper had come from, he usually controls it well. Maybe Odeserundiye is right, war would have come sooner or later. Even before the Europeans had appeared his nation had struggled to keep the peace with the Haudenosaunee. He’s not going to imagine everything would have been perfect, but he likes to imagine that the conflict would have been less imbalanced - a series of small conflicts and skirmishes, but with his people and nation still existing. Not the aftermath of a genocide that he lives with now. “So, you want to keep me around as a business partner, and somehow this means I must join a company?”

Odeserundiye shrugs. “They would hire you. I could be your business partner. They wouldn’t hire me.” He says matter-of-factly. Matthieu knows he’s right - other than a European appearance, another thing that he inherited from his unknown French father was papers. Either that, or the Jesuits invented them for him. These ridiculously fragile papers gave Matthieu rights he never would have dreamed of being denied in his own birthplace - they mark him as a recognized citizen of New France. In these papers, his name is written as Matthieu Gellone. His father’s name is Francis and his mother’s name is written as Marguerite. He knows that’s not the name she used when he was a child. He sometimes wondered if she was actually baptized out of a real sense of faith or out of convenience to have her child with this ‘Francis’ recognized. Either way, he has saved these papers for no other reason than to have this tiny shred of evidence of her existence. The papers have been more useful than he had ever imagined they could be. The entire time he lived in the cabin he mostly forgot about them unless he was especially homesick for the past. Since he’s left the cabin and New France has grown, they have become more important.

Matthieu lets out a sigh. “Is this advice or is this a proposition to form a business partnership?”

“You could start your own company, don’t look away Matthieu I am serious! We could pool our resources, and start a company, have the protections afforded to a company! Under you, we would be protected from European advancement.”

What madness is this? “Protection? The companies go to war as much as our nations used to! I’ve seen so many dead tradesmen I leave them well alone. Staring up a fledgeling company is to put a target on our backs, on the backs of your family!”

“And what happens without risking this? We become enslaved to the companies that remain after the dust settles?”

Matthieu shakes his head. “You have the wrong business partner. I don’t have the brain for it. I don’t like it.” He knows who would have...once upon a time. Matthieu forces the memory of a tall man, straight-backed and lost in his world of calculations, out of his thoughts.

Odeserundiye places a comforting hand on Matthieu’s shoulder. “I would prefer you, but I will ask more. Think about it at least. Here, this is your tobacco. As agreed.”

Matthieu hands over the pelts and gathers up the tobacco. Before they part ways they embrace briefly.

“I am serious Matthieu, think about it.”

Matthieu doesn’t want to, but nods anyway.

---

On the way to Montreal, Matthieu thinks about the man who either looked and acted a lot like his former cousin, or was his cousin. If he is his cousin, this company formation is another act of his older cousin looking out for him. Matthieu cannot deny Odeserundiye’s read on their situation. And really, Matthieu is long past the point of pretending that he only needs his own company to survive. Ever since setting out again on his own again, Matthieu had to put aside enough of his aversion to other people to build a solid network for himself - reliable trade partners, customers, and bases of operation. Still, he likes being on his own. As much as he likes some of the people in his network, it’s easier to bargain with himself - put up with the social niceties and haggling, and reward himself with months of solitary travel.

“Still holding yourself back.” A familiar voice sounds in his head, it’s not accusing, it’s sad. Matthieu narrows his eyes and pushes on, focusing on the path.

Matthieu’s pelts and tobacco earn him good money at Montreal, he’s become familiar enough with the town that it is a comfortable base for now. It’s big enough that no one wants to know too much, it’s close enough that he’s treated to meals when he arrives. Odeserundiye’s words echo in his mind and he thinks deeper than his own instinctive aversion to the idea - objectively, Matthieu does well for himself, he has a small network spread across New France and among the Confederacy. Starting a small company is not inconceivable, and wouldn’t it serve to use his European face and name to afford some protection over this network? There’s a part of him, still a child, that is somewhat averse. Odeserundiye belongs to the nation that killed his family. But he has more in common with them now than to the Europeans.  

Speaking of the Europeans, Matthieu has become adept at imitating them too. Right now he’s sitting comfortably in his favorite inn - not too fancy, not too bad. It’s owners are honest immigrants who try a little too hard to marry him off to their daughter, but he knows how to avoid that for the most part. Instead, he observes.

There were newcomers to Montreal all the time, it was the center for fur trading, and it attracted more and more people. Then … there! Out of the corner of his eye.

Matthieu freezes, then he cannot help but look. Nothing. He looks again to make sure then laughs at himself in relief.

It doesn’t often happen now. In the early years just after he walked away from his cabin, Matthieu always imagined the Loupgarou just out of sight - in that corner, in the turn of that man’s face, in the shadow before a man moved. But it was never him. He thought he felt the other man’s familiar company on lonely walks for months on end in the woods, before realizing that he was only imagining a travel companion in the silence to keep loneliness at bay. It shamed him that of all the companions he could have imagined, it was still him.

He waits for his heart to calm itself then continues drinking. Still, he can’t help but turn around to get another glimpse over his shoulder, just in case.

It happens again. Matthieu thinks he sees a familiar head walk into a hidden corner.

‘I will put this idiocy to rest once and for all.’ He tells himself and stands to confront his imagination, where he is sure he will find nothing.

He turns the corner and finds a knife threatening his gut, held by an unknown man who is sitting across from a very very familiar face.

“Turn around now. Find another boy.” A deep voice advises with a bored tone - accented, Scandinavian? Those Northern settlers were usually more competent than the others, taking to the woods and surviving in them like second skin, almost as well as Matthieu himself.

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said! I’m not here for…” Matthieu looks at the boy with the very familiar face again and is horrified at the resemblance. But it’s not him. The boy, no young man, is shorter, his hair wavier and loose. His face however, is recovering from shock and settling into a familiar look of concentration.

“Odd please!” The young man suddenly smiles, all amiable as if he owns the Inn and is trying to attract a guest. “Let our new friend sit. I know what men look like when they want me, this one...isn’t looking at me like that. But, that’s not important. Sir...you look like you’ve seen me before.”

Matthieu looks between the young man with the Loupgarou’s face, which is trouble enough for him and his memories, and the other man...Odd? Who is putting away a very large knife. The latter has sharp, almost feminine facial features, very light blonde hair, a long walking staff strapped to his back, and there was just something about him that put Matthieu on edge. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but there was something...more about that man. Too much trouble. Nope.

He tries to turn around and finds that he can’t. Now instead of holding a knife to him, the man... Odd , is holding his arm. Matthieu has to fight an odd compulsion to stay and easily twists his arm out of the grip. Odd looks somewhat surprised at that.

“Look you two,” Matthieu says, “I can’t imagine what kind of unsavory characters have come after you since you’ve arrived here but if you -” He looks at the younger man with the too familiar face, “insist on looking like a bag of gold with legs, I would do something about not looking like that. Meanwhile you -” He looks at Odd and pauses, what did he want to say? “You ah, clearly have skills as a woodsman and you can teach him how to look less…” polished? Rich? “Obvious, but if you insist on pulling a knife on everyone who looks at him the wrong way, it’s not going to help you both stay hidden. None of these things gives either of you the leave to manipulate me or manhandle me. That’s all the help I can offer, I’m going now.”

“Wait!” The younger man runs in front of him with an earnest look he has never seen before but he can’t quite ignore either. “Sorry about that, we started off wrong. Let’s try again please? My name is Christian, and I’m looking for my brother!”

The world condenses right then and Matthieu has to take a deep breath and let it out.

And do it again, and again. Matthieu has to keep doing it….this boy is looking for his brother. Of all the brothers, could it be? Memories comes back, a too familiar voice sounds in his head - ‘somewhere my sister and brother are laughing and they don’t know why…’ the warmth in those eyes whenever he spoke about his siblings, then ‘I bought...my mother her retirement and my siblings a future out of a whorehouse…’

Matthieu looks away.

“You know him.” Christian declares. It’s not a question. “He’s alive then, I knew it. I wasn’t wrong, I couldn’t be. Please tell me where to find him. I can find him myself eventually but it will be so much faster if you-”

“I can’t help you!” He didn’t mean to be so threatening, but Christian shrinks away from him and Odd is standing in front of Christian protectively, looking ready for a fight again. Matthieu takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. I know you must have come a long way, but people arrive here all the time and disappear. Our land is much bigger than yours.”

Slender fingers take his hand, there’s a strange...tingle to them. “Is he dead?” Odd asks softly, almost a whisper. Matthieu did not expect that strong pull to answer...

“I…” Why can’t he answer? “I…” He looks Christian, at those familiar green eyes and that eager face. He doesn’t want to break it, he doesn’t...he knows what it’s like to lose someone he loves, and to search, and search...and search. It would be cruel to let that search continue, this young man should live his life properly - too many had died just for this boy to live a happier life. “I once met someone who looked like you. He’s dead. A winter storm took him.”

And for a moment it happens - Christian’s face goes slack with shock, before twisting into a look of such pain it’s too achingly familiar. Matthieu tries to steel himself from it, to remind himself of what the Loupgarou had done for the sake of this younger brother. He looks at his young man who is falling apart - is he worth everyone and everything that Matthieu’s ever loved?

As Christian folds into himself in grief, and Odd goes to comfort him, for the first time Matthieu allows his thoughts to fly where he’s never allowed them to go - at the volatile age of fourteen when he almost ended his life on this world...if someone had brought his mother back to him, but with a knife held to her throat...promised her freedom if only Matthieu agreed to something that could kill everyone on some nameless nation he didn’t know, across the sea, would he have at least tried?

‘It’s not the same’ Matthieu tells himself. ‘It can’t be compared.’ It didn’t happen that way. “I am sorry for your loss.” Matthieu says, surprised to realize that he actually means it.

Christian shakes his head, but his voice is breaking. “No. No it can’t...he’s a fucking cockroach! Nothing can...he can’t....” Odd’s face is soft and sympathetic, he envelopes the younger man in a hug. Christian grabs onto him, sobbing into his shoulder.

Matthieu turns and sighs - three men arguing then one young man losing all composure is attracting too much attention. “We should leave. I have a room upstairs.”

---

Well...this is awkward.

Once again, Matthieu finds himself sharing his personal space, except this time with two strangers. His sympathy for a young man who has just suffered a great loss has led Matthieu to let Christian sleep on his bed. Tonight, he will make do with the floor, together with another man he barely knows, and who had greeted him with a knife.  Perfect. Why does he keep doing this?

‘You’re not even here, you’re dead…’ Matthieu speaks to that all-to-familiar memory in his head. ‘Why is it that I can STILL blame all the strange things in my life to you?’ Why could he not turn away a boy with that familiar face? Why does he feel a churning inside?

Odd sits on the bed, leaving a steadying hand on heaving shoulders until exhaustion finally takes the younger man into dreams. Once Christian is softly snoring, Matthieu finally speaks.

“You have younger siblings don’t you?” He whispers.

Odd looks over and nods, suddenly appearing far more tired than Matthieu initially thought.

Matthieu now wonders about the Loupgarou’s European life, about this strange place called Europe in general, and how terrible it must be for so many of its people to willingly leave it. “Did you know his brother?” He has to ask. There’s a part of him that tries to imagine Odd in the Loupgarou’s embrace, but it is gut churning. Matthieu chases the image away and looks down, cheeks burning - what’s wrong with him?

Odd settles down next to Matthieu on the floor and shakes his head. “No, Christian was already looking for him when we met. Or rather, when he met my brother. Those fools had originally planned to come here, just the two of them, without telling anyone. I managed to stop my brother in time and make sure he stayed but I had to come here anyway, with Christian, to make sure he didn’t get himself killed.”

Matthieu looks back at the slumbering young man. “That...must keep you very busy.”

“Yes,” Odd agrees with an exasperated sigh. “It does. Though he’s not without his skills, they’re just completely misplaced. Put that boy in the middle of a thriving city like Amsterdam and he would keep us alive. Here, he has a lot to learn.”

Matthieu could see that. “So that means...who did your brother come here to look for?”

Odd’s face takes on a wistful look, lips turned into a reluctant smile. “An idiot. A ridiculous, self-sacrificing idiot who tries too hard, and if there’s even the smallest chance he’s still alive, I’ll find him. If he’s not, I’ll gather whatever remains and bring him home for a proper burial.”

Matthieu’s stomach calms itself and he finds himself smiling with sadness and admiration. It’s a nice sentiment, but he shakes his head all the same. He can tell just by looking at him that Odd knows what he’s just sworn - a lifetime to this other mysterious idiot who managed to get lost in Matthieu’s home. For heaven’s sake. “You may never find any remains either. Is there really nothing else you’d rather be doing than wandering around my homeland for the rest of your life?”

Odd’s only answer is a scoff. He gives Matthieu and unreadable look then shrugs and lies down on the floor. He’s asleep in no time, and Matthieu wonders about why these two strangers have decided he’s not going to kill or rob them.

Softly, Matthieu knocks his head against the wall. He’s the fucking idiot. A sap. He never learns. Still, he can’t help but stand and silently make his way over to the slumbering young man and drink in his familiar features. Why is he doing this to himself?

It’s torture to see Christian lost in the world of dreams, relaxed from care, just like Leverett had been in those few precious days after learning how to sleep. Matthieu thought time would erase Leverett’s face from his mind, turn it blurry, but even if that had been true, it’s not now. Looking at Christian, Matthieu remembers everything. He remembers enough that he can see where the brothers do not resemble each other, and aches for the familiar even as he detests what he sees.

He reminds himself - Matthieu’s entire world, gone, for this little brother.

---

“Where did you last see him?” The boy asked the moment he realized Matthieu was awake.

Matthieu looks around the room. Odd is not there. With a sigh, Matthieu hauls himself up and stretches. He stands, ignoring Christian for a moment and pours himself a drink, his mouth is feeling dry. To the young man’s credit, he doesn’t push or ask again, waiting as Matthieu walks around the room, loosening the kinks in his neck. Finally, with a sigh, Matthieu realizes he is curious enough to answer some questions, just to see where it leads. He pulls over the lone stool in the room to sit next to the bed. “Christian, the man I saw...that was six years ago. Six. By now there are no remains to be had.” Besides there was one other sibling the Loupgarou had mentioned. Matthieu hoped this sister wasn’t running around here too. “You should go home.”

Christian nods, thinking, and Matthieu is filled with dread. There is no grief in the boy’s eyes, only determination. “Was he alone?”

Matthieu wonders if Christian knew about the curse. “Yes. He was. Look Christian, the man I saw may not even be your brother. For all I know, you all look the same over there.”

Finally, Christian focuses on Matthieu, his eyes searching. It’s mildly disturbing and yet Matthieu can’t really separate himself from staring back. When Christian is calculating something, like he is now, he looks even more  like the man Matthieu knew. Finally, Christian relaxes, “When you saw me, my face, you recognized it. You looked broken, then you looked like you wanted to kill me. You gave me a bed to sleep on instead.”

Well he was certainly just as straightforward as his brother had been. Why is Matthieu here? He may have loved Leverett the Loupgarou, but he knew he hated Daan. This boy sitting on the bed in front of him was part of Daan’s world and acting like who Daan had been - throwing himself into places he had no business being in, spearing through things he didn’t understand. Christian would kill to find Daan, just as his brother had been willing to do the same to give this little brother a different life.

Matthieu stands. “I know what it’s like to lose family. Go home to the rest of yours before you can’t.”

As he’s striding out from the room, Matthieu feels a small sense of satisfaction that he’s just going to pay and leave. This is all the closure he’s going to get - Leverett and Daan dead, his family now knowing about it.

Maybe a different man would seek vengeance on Christian. The thought crosses his mind for a moment and Matthieu angrily dismisses it. It wouldn’t do anything - certainly not bring his family back, just like how a retaliatory raid had not brought back any of Odeserundiye’s mothers. Punishing Christian would not change what Daan did. It would be a waste of energy, time, and peace for nothing.

---

He’s left the confines of the town and is well on his own trail by the river when he senses he’s not alone…he’s also not surprised. Matthieu slows his pace, and Odd matches step with him, as if they were both sharing this journey together all along from the beginning. Maybe they had been. “Why are you so amused?” He stops to ask Odd..

“It’s not amusement.”

“Then?”

“Just trying to complete this puzzle. His brother. You loved him, you hate him, but not enough to really leave Christian behind. You knew we’d follow.”

Matthieu frowns. Is he this easy to read? What was it about Odd that was just so...well, odd? In the distance he can see Christian finally catching up, eyes locked on him in a familiar grim determination. Matthieu looks back to Odd and he voices out his suspicion. “You’re a shaman aren’t you?”

“I promise, other than assessing your intentions when we first met to find out how dangerous you are, and to find out where his brother went, I’ve done nothing else. Your thoughts and decisions are your own.”

Mattheiu thinks he can believe that, other than those first two times, Odd hadn’t touched him. Still, he wasn’t quite sure how to act around this European shaman. He’s partly fascinated by the existence of one - they had struck him as a people so far removed from their earth that he figured they didn’t have any shamans. Not to mention, the Jesuits seemed especially adamant against such practices. Still, there’s difference enough, Odd does not look like any Shaman that Matthieu remembers.

“You walk fast.” Christian pants when he finally reaches them. “And Odd, how could you leave me?”

A slight smile plays at the edge of Odd’s lips as he answers “You were going to be fine. Besides, this is a life you’re going to have to get used to if you insist on going through with this idea of yours.”

Matthieu cannot help but smirk as well. “Dare I ask?”

Christian squares his shoulders and looks directly into Matthieu’s eyes. Matthieu somehow feels like he is about to hear a sales pitch.

“Alright Monsieur Matthieu, you’re right. This land is big. It’s so big it hasn’t even been mapped. Who knows what is out there? I am just one man, I’ll never find my brother, or figure out if he’s still alive, simply by physically looking for him.”

Stubborn boy, but smart at least. “Yet, it sounds like you won’t go home.” Matthieu replies.

Christian frowns. “If he’s alive, I know how to find him, but please Monsieur, I will need your help.”

Curious, Matthieu has to ask. “I’m not agreeing to anything, but what do you propose to do?”

Odd sits down on a nearby rock, indicating that this is going to take a while. Meanwhile, Christian smiles in relief. “It’s a last effort but if I can’t find him this way, I’ll give up the search. I know how my brother’s mind works...strategically. I used to think the world of him, he was never really an affectionate older brother but he did his best by trying to teach me important lessons. You said my brother perished in a winter storm. I know he got on a boat and crossed here in late summer. Either he survived on his own in this strange land for months before running into you and somehow making enough of an impression in that short time, that you now keep looking at me as if you can’t decide whether to cry or to kill me...OR, he stayed with you and traveled with you for months and you cared for him until winter.”

Matthieu frowns and looks at Odd. Odd’s hands are up defensively. “I told you he has different skills.”

Matthieu really wonders how obvious he is, and realizes how lucky he is that his business partners must be fond of him. If he’s this readable he truly must be a terrible businessman. “Fine, I met your brother, we know this. What does this have to do with your plan?”

“My point is, if he stayed with you for months, you know about his curse.”

Matthieu freezes. “I did not mention it because I was unsure if you knew about it.”

“Fair.” Christian shrugs. “And I thought maybe you killed him, except you seemed genuinely sad when you told me that he was lost to a winter storm. So if he survived the storm, and was doing his usual idiocy of running away from the few people he cares about so he doesn’t hurt them, there’s only one way he would have survived!”

Matthieu thinks the answer should be obvious but he honestly doesn’t know it, “How?”

“Change his name and start a trading company of course!” Christian exclaims while jumping in excitement. “I’ve been reading about all the new trading companies that have been exploding in New France in the past five years! It’s easy to hide in one of those! Also, a new territory? Easy to have papers made up for you if you have the right connections and price. My brother wouldn’t disappear into the woods or anything like that, he’s a city man, an entrepreneur. The only place he could hide would be in business! And if he’s hiding in business, I can find him!”

Matthieu shakes his head, thinking of the thousands of trading companies, some so small they only last less than a day. “How could you possibly find him through business?”

Christian grins, “I know how he thinks. Let’s start a company. You’re the local expert, Odd could help us with intelligence gathering behind the scenes, and I’ll handle business. Give me a few years to understand how things work here and I’ll figure out which companies have been around long enough to have possibly been started by my brother - there can’t be that many that have survived for what? Four or five years?. Then I’ll figure out how each of those are run, the history of growth and purchases. I don’t need his name to find him, but trust me, I’ll recognize how he runs a company! He can’t hide that from me!”

This? This is the plan? Matthieu cannot be as enthusiastic as Christian clearly is. He’s also wondering why everyone is after him to form some kind of company lately. “Christian, by some miracle, if you start up a company, and it survives, and you manage to come up with a list of potential companies, and um...all that you said...it’s been six years. Let’s imagine your brother is alive, you may still never find him because people can change a lot in six years.”

The little brother’s grin turns mercenary. “Then I find nothing and I sell you my shares in the company and go home. Then you can sell them and retire and do whatever you want, and not have me bothering you anymore.”

Matthieu groans and looks up at the sky with a frustrated expression. “I was just telling someone yesterday that I don’t want to start a company.”

“Oh great! Who? I sense a new business partner. The more locals the better, most of these places will fail because they won’t have local expertise and networks as its foundation.”

In the end, Matthieu accepted his fate. Which apparently, was to register a trading company. Himself, Odeserundiye, Odd, and Christian were equal partners, with Matthieu and Odeserundiye having the local network and exclusive area knowledge to find resources where most companies didn’t know where to look; Christian handling accounts; and Odd handling...information and intelligence gathering. The deal was, if Christian found his brother, or decided the search was over, he would keep a percentage of his earnings to live comfortably back in Europe, and divide the rest of his shares equally between Matthieu, Odeserundiye, and Odd. As for Odd, as it turned out, the man he was looking for was afflicted with the same curse that Christian’s brother had, so finding one Loupgarou  would hopefully provide a strong lead to the other.

Matthieu for his part, found himself on a new journey that he never expected. Part of his life at first was mostly unchanged. He did the same things he used to do, traveled, built networks, caught beavers; except now he also trained other people to do the same occasionally, and he did all this while...being an owner of a company and having earnings be stored in several banks - Christian took care of those details. The other part that surprised him was that Odeserundiye was right, there was protection to be had under the cover of a company, and as a person with European paperwork, Matthieu did find himself having a little more power than he ever felt before, to protect the parts of his home that he had always seen as under attack. He bought land so that native nations would not be forced to move from it, he used his position to try to warn people of harmful new policies when he learned of them. Of course, Christian would catch wind of it, tsk, shake his head and go straight to the Governor with gifts and flowery words to completely distract him from implementing such boring and unimportant new laws.

Odd’s words from that first day “In a city, he would keep us alive” were truer than ever. Montreal was slowly becoming a city, and it was Christian’s oyster.

Matthieu was no more comfortable as an owner of a well-to-do company than he had ever been before. Change still came too fast, and he wasn’t sure if it was serving his home for the better. He also learned that he would never really be fully accepted among the original nations, even though he was born one of them. It pained him, but he also could not blame them for this prejudice when he obviously gained so many advantages simply for favoring his European father’s looks. And anyway, Matthieu held onto his own prejudices so tightly, even with Christian and Odd as colleagues and eventual friends.

They were a strange group, but they were his group. There’s no time now to imagine he can hear the Loupgarou speaking to him in his head. There’s no time to sit for hours, lost in the memories of the dead, or to listen to the wind howl. He doesn’t know if this is better or worse, but it certainly is different.

Matthew is about ready to stop fucking crying already. But it’s therapy, so all he gets is a break until the next session, he supposes. Dr Laurinaithis is not fussed, he must have a closet full of tissue boxes in this job, and seen a few swimming pools worth of tears. Matthew doesn’t know how he feels about that, but he does feel like going through two boxes of tissue papers is too much, no matter how kind Dr. Laurinaithis is about it.  

It's a relief to leave the building, though he wishes that the lightness he’s supposed to feel after a huge cry was actually there. It’s not. Because he’s forced to talk about things out loud that he usually tries to hide from himself, he’s feeling raw. It occurs to him that he may need emotional support to even get through therapy. His mind jumps to Lukas, just because it had been his idea in the first place, and immediately dismisses it.

Sometimes the hard thing about a breakup wasn’t the breakup itself, but breaking the habits that had been formed before it. Matthew and Lukas had moved slow, but he had always been aware of him in a strong sense, and knew that Lukas was a reliable man and a good listener. Maybe that was why Lukas was the first person he had called when he panicked about Arthur. He feels embarrassed about that now, Arthur is a grown man who doesn’t need anyone to be regulating his drinking, and when did Matthew care about drinking this much? It wasn’t the drinking he had responded to, he knows that now, it was the realization of the loneliness Arthur would have had to have been experiencing to over-rely on a bottle. If Arthur were still his direct Manager, Matthew would have found him and kept him company. As it was, not he never really knew where Arthur was in the world at any point of time, or if he would be welcome, or if Arthur the Partner would have any time for him, so he tried to get other people to make sure that Arthur was cared for. It’s a strange thing, Matthew doesn’t even do this for his own father, and his mother has never needed help. He’s always felt like the soft and vulnerable one in his family, but Arthur respected that, somehow teaching him how to succeed in this firm despite wanting to hide from the world sometimes.

Maybe it’s time to visit Mom. Except he feels bad for burdening her with his insecurities, and moving to the city and thriving here is supposed to be proof that he’s grown up now, all her hard work was worth it. She would see right through him the moment he walked through the door.

As he climbs into his car he looks at his now terrible reflection in the mirror. Not good, Arthur's farewell do is in a couple of hours. He really didn't plan this out very well, but Dr Laurinaithis‘ first available appointment had been today and sometimes Matthew was a little too efficient with getting through his to do list. He pulls out the wet wipes he keeps in the glove compartment and runs it over his face, hoping the cool and damp cloth will do something about the obvious swelling around his eyes and nose.

He can blame it on allergies. Yeah why not. They were going to a park after all.

But first, time to pick up Shell.

He knows the way to her place so he drives there almost on autopilot. She wouldn't be fooled by the “allergies”excuse, so he'll probably have to come clean to her about therapy. The idea makes his stomach clench, he knows objectively that Michelle wouldn;t judge him, but therapy is still something intensely personal. But still, shouldn’t he give her a chance? Friendship was also about vulnerability. Then again, she was also a colleague, and he doesn’t want their friendship to make her work more difficult. She just saved him from a terrible meeting earlier in the week, and now he wonders if she'll question his ability to work and lead, if his lack of promotion somehow pushed him off an edge.

Matthew takes a deep breath and decides to get on with it. She’ll notice or she won’t.

He drives up and sees her standing in front of her apartment, grinning at him in a light blue dress, and waving excitedly at his car. He cracks a smile at that. He's just thrown on an old red t-shirt and a pair of jeans, it's a barbecue after all and he'd rather not have his better clothes stained with fat and smoke.

The moment she gets in the car, her face drops. Yep, no fooling Shell. He opens his mouth to try to explain but finds he can't really.

Michelle squeezes his shoulder. “Matt… are you…” but maybe because he couldn't say anything, she opts not to either, and just leans in to hug him.

There's a moment of guilt where Matthew feels terrible for bringing her mood down, guilt that he can't admit something that is nothing to be ashamed of, but he appreciates the hug and leans into it all the same. Somehow it’s a little better.

“Sorry to worry you Shell, I just had a rough morning, I'll be fine.” Her hair smells like coconuts and there’s some part of him that thinks of warm island breezes and white sands, far away from his problems here.

When they pull back, she tilts her head, pondering. “Matt I didn’t want to bring it up earlier because I wasn’t sure if it would help and you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and I’ve always looked up to you. But I feel like I have to say something. You’ve been through a lot lately, and you've been holding it together really well. Sometimes I don't know why you're still even in the team instead of running off to a well deserved island break. Francis would deserve it. And Lukas I mean… have you had a chance to talk about Lukas? And you invited him today so...Look Matt, no one will think less of you if you’re selfish for-.”

“I don't want to talk about it right now Shell.” He’s exhausted, he's talked all morning. “Thanks, really. It’s just that… trust me I'm talking a lot.”

She doesn’t press, and Matthew is glad, but she does pat his arm. “That’s great, but...I’m here too if you need me you know. Also, I would totally make up a good excuse for you if you decide you need to leave early today. You’re the one who told me that rest doesn’t mean weakness, it’s just strength in the long run.”

How did he come up with these things? “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” He repeats out loud, but in his head he hears Arthur say it, because that’s who he had learned it from. Sure, Arthur wasn’t great at living by the occasional wisdom he managed to say out loud (and read in a book somewhere), but that didn’t mean it wasn’t wisdom. It was Arthur who showed him that you trudged on, no matter the difficulty or tears. He’s seen Arthur fight through insecurity and frustration with little to no guidance to rise on his own.. It’s another reason why Matthew has to turn up, has to celebrate his day with everyone. Arthur was the first person whom he felt had really seen the value in him and invested time into him. He’s a big reason why Matthew is the professional he is today.

“Yeah.” Michelle replies with a worried smile.

First they stop off at the florist to collect the flowers that Michelle had ordered. Gardening was one of Arthur’s passions, though Matthew wasn’t sure how many people remembered that anymore. These flowers wouldn’t imitate a garden, but they would be the closest they could get to recreating a happy space for Arthur.

Under Michelle’s guidance they had outdone themselves. Somehow, Michelle had secured two barbecue pits in the park. Jack and Gerard  from Daan and Arthur’s team were cooking up a storm, and as far as Matthew could figure out - took barbecues very very seriously. But it’s exactly what Matthew had previously envisioned - children ran around on the green, playing with each other. The open air and casual atmosphere made everyone relax, the flowers they were setting up made everything look that much more festive. Although, the lack of beer at a barbecue was perhaps a little obvious and noticeable.

“Juice?” Ha strolls up with a grin, holding two cartons of orange juice in hand.

Oh man...they’re never going to hear the end of this.

“Or…” Ha grins “Are we holding out for the sparkling juice?” The alcohol-free ‘champagne’ - still get the pop, but no kick. For the purposes of the day, Michelle branded it “child’s wine.”

Matthew grins, “No reason not to have both.”

All the Partners are late, which doesn’t surprise anyone. It seemed to be a regular code of conduct to allow the rest of the staff to enjoy each other’s company before the bosses came in. What was surprising however, was who arrived next.

“How come there’s no music at this party?” Mathias grins as he walks in with Emil, rolling in a cart of danishes and other delicious foods. Just how much were they going to eat today?

“Mathias? Hi.” Matthew waves. Why was he here? Was it weird to feel like he and Mathias were kinda friends? Even though they didn’t know each other very well and had met under very convoluted circumstances. “Oh wow these kids are going to be on a sugar high all day today.” He doesn’t know how Arthur will feel about rowdy children - he knows the man loves kids but generally in an unrealistic way.

“That’s the plan!” Michelle laughs.

Matthew nods and walks around, greeting everyone but ultimately he’s just looking for a bench to sit on while everyone else is occupied. He lets the sound of happy children trill behind him as he takes in the view of people simply enjoying their lives on the green. He breathes in deeply, and lets his breath out, calming his mind and thinking about nothing in particular. When he finds his empty bench, he sits and muses a little. He realizes that he’s not changed as much as he thinks - he’s generally known who he is. But at the same time, he feels born anew, like he’s stumbling to figure out the world all over again for the first time. He thought he had it figured out, he’s been doing what some invisible societal book out there tells him he has to do, that Arthur had mastered, and the book wasn’t wrong per se, but it was wrong to deny him himself. As Dr Laurinaithis (Toris, he had told him to call him Toris - Matthew can only imagine how he must have butchered the man’s name) gently told him this morning - it’s about learning to rephrase, to be present, to be conscious and aware. Matthew is focused on what he hasn’t achieved, and not so much on what he has.

Easier said than done really. It’s one thing to understand the logic of doing that, it’s another to be personally sold on it. So he’ll start with baby steps - if he doesn’t feel comfortable with something, he won’t just push down that feeling, he’ll process it. Maybe Shell is right, maybe he needs a trip…

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to judge a party without alcohol.”

Matthew is jarred out of his thoughts by a somewhat concerned looking Daan, who’s holding a cup of orange juice in his hand.

Daan looks like he’s about to say something with his trademark dryness but stops. His expression shifts from glib to concerned. “Hey…” He doesn’t finish his thought though, Daan casts a nervous look behind at the party for a moment, then looks down with a sigh. He silently comes over to sit next to Matthew on the bench.

Matthew tries to saw something to dismiss the concern, some greeting, to steel himself to stand and join the party. But he’s just too tired. Instead he asks “I look that bad huh?” It’s not much of a question.

Daan doesn’t bother to voice the obvious, and offers the orange juice instead. “I haven’t had any.”

“No thanks.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Matthew is glad. He’s glad he doesn’t have to explain himself, but he’s not happy that Daan has seen him like this. There’s nowhere to escape in a park though, so he may as well just sit here. Anyway, Daan’s presence has its advantages, like giving him a further excuse not to go back to the party. And now that he’s free to just return to his silence, Matthew finds himself observing Daan when the other leans over, resting his arms on his knees, sipping from his cup. He remembers what Lukas said, about Daan having to give away a project, about Daan going through a weird transition right now.

He can’t see a shred of evidence of it anywhere.

Matthew takes a breath “How do you do it?”

“Hmm?”

“Arthur drinks, I...well I work out and occasionally go hiking, but I’m obviously not dealing with my troubles well because you took one look at my face and decided it’s better not to drag me back to the party. But you, you’ve never looked weak, no one would look at you and go ‘hey...maybe I shouldn’t promote him, I don’t want to be guilty of manslaughter.’”

Daan let’s out an annoyed huff. Matthew observes him as Daan sits up and straightens himself. “I’m pretty sure you saw me during a pretty rough patch at least once. Like that night you brought Emil to Mathias’ cafe. Man...that was a really shitty time. I was doing a pretty good job at denying just how shitty it was just two days before that, but there’s nothing quite like enforced quiet solitude on a 24-hour flight to make you realize how much you’re not going to be able to lie to yourself about this one.”

Daan’s voice is filled with so much...regret? Matthew doesn’t realize he’s reached out until he’s squeezing Daan’s arm in reassurance. They both tense with the contact, and Matthew quickly withdraws his hand. Stupid stupid stupid. “Sorry.” He mumbles, though he’s not sure what exactly he’s sorry for.

Daan doesn’t move, he just stares at the grass. “I trust my people.”

Matthew screws up his face in confusion. What did Daan’s team have to do with anything?

“Arthur drinks; you work out and hike; I have pets, a sister who can’t ever stop mocking me to remind me that I’m not that great, a baby brother who somehow looks up to me enough that it balances out her mocking, a friend who makes sure I’m fed and will drag me out of my door kicking and screaming if needs be to just...cycle somewhere, a…” Daan stops suddenly and frowns, squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, which he lets out. “You get the idea. I have people that I trust, to see me like that, like this - the way you saw me when I forgot my keys. I didn’t always have them, I didn’t always appreciate them, but I get by because I have them. I’m not a particularly social man, but I have a community that’s mine. That’s how I do it.” Daan stands from the bench and Matthew’s eyes can’t help but follow him, looking up and Daan turns. “You do too. And so does Arthur to be honest, neither of you are the lone wolves you try to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Lone wolf? Me?”

Daan shrugs. “We never really knew each other until recently, but I remember seeing you around before. Always in a group with other associates, usually with either Michelle or Ha, or…well, leaving birthday cupcakes on Arthur’s desk in the early hours of morning...”

Matthew’s eyes widen, Daan had seen that?

“Made me jealous to be honest,” Daan continues. “No one’s ever left me cupcakes.”

Matthew laughs. “Your housemate makes damn good danishes.”

“Well yes, but let’s be honest here, he’s never really made them for me, I just happened to be around. Besides, is a danish a cupcake?”

Matthew shakes his head and rolls his eyes fondly. Honestly.

“My point is,” Daan adds pointedly. “You have a community. Let them help you. Not saying hiking isn’t a good coping mechanism though.”

Matthew finds himself feeling a little lighter, and able to stand to return to the party. He looks up at Daan’s concerned face and smiles. “Thanks for the pep talk.” Daan is really really good at his job - who knew that this guy could give good talks like this? No wonder his team did so well.

Daan nods and looks behind him. “You want to join the party? Or should I make up an excuse?”

Matthew turns and observes the party too. It’s happy, pleasant and perfect - Michelle’s magic in full displace. “I don’t want to ruin it by bringing down the mood, Shell worked so hard. But I haven’t quite reached the point where it’s polite to leave yet. I should at least speak to Arthur. It’s crazy, I haven’t really talked to him at all lately.”

Daan’s tapping his fingers on the back of the bench, and Matthew doesn’t look at him, expecting him to leave at any moment. But instead, Daan surprises him.

“Want company or to be alone? Lukas will text me when they’re about to arrive, no one’s going to hold it against you if you sit out here. You’ve already greeted everyone.”

“I…” Both? Matthew wants Daan right next to him, a solid presence on a day when Matthew feels cast out at sea, riding on tumultuous waves of his stamped down emotions. He also doesn’t want to be a burden.

“Right, don’t worry. Take your time.”

“Wait!”

Daan pauses in his stride surprised. He must have presumed that Matthew’s reluctance to speak was out of politeness, not indecision.

“I don’t mind company I’m just not great company myself right now so, it’s really up to you. I’m sure you have schmoozing to do.”

Daan casts a skeptical look at the party. “I see them practically everyday. I don’t mind some quiet. They’re all in love with Mathias anyway, I’ll give him a chance to keep charming his regulars, uninterrupted.”

Matthew can’t help but laugh. “So he knows everyone?”

Daan shrugs. “Well whenever we have a party we tend to buy food from him, so by now, yeah.”

“I distinctly remember him telling you that night at the cafe, that PKDE was your life, not his.”

Daan lets out a snort and a little laugh. Matthew likes that little laugh, a little too much. He churns inside because no.

No. No. No.

Nononononononono…

“Sometimes when I piss him off he says things yeah, but he’s such a softy now you have no idea.”

For lack of anything else to say (because he’s afraid to say anything), Matthew just replies, “Tell me.”

So Daan does, and Matthew looks down at the grass seeing nothing because he knows he’s gone and done something even more irrevocably stupid. It was inevitable really, just a matter of time, and he had been in so much denial because he hadn’t wanted to stop himself. But was there really any other way that this was going to go for him? He can’t even hide it from himself anymore.

As long as no idiot went about trying to do something like...be a party to a Libor fixing scandal, or siphon off money into their own pockets solo, or any of the other scandals that were easy to fall into as a trader, their bonuses would be excellent this year. Good enough perhaps to put down on a place, or some other big project, Christian wasn’t sure yet. He spent his free time browsing properties and reading up on property ownership. There wasn’t much free time - it was mostly snuck in between other tasks - a few minutes here and there. He got the feeling that he needed to actually dedicate time to his thoughts and plans, maybe set aside a whole day - a Saturday preferably, since Sundays were now family days, but it was easier said than done. Outside of work, Christian found his mind easily distracted if it even wanted to work at all.

So there it was - fragmented images put together like odd puzzle pieces in his head of a dream home that wasn’t quite complete yet. The yard from one house, the interior design of another, the lure of a tiny home versus the temptation of more space than he would ever know what to do with for the imaginary dog he still didn’t own. He thought of volunteering at the closest animal shelter but held himself back because knowing him, he’d end up adopting 10 dogs and who knew where they would live?

Maybe it was because he was so distracted that he missed the signs. Emil had been quiet, which he had a habit of doing sometimes - Emil occasionally needed a break from the world, where he would disconnect, stay in his room and not touch a computer or phone unless he absolutely had to. No, Christian should have noticed something because Leon was different. While already madly ambitious before, now Leon lived in the trading room, he was still there when Christian left, and he was already there when Christian entered in the mornings. He didn’t even think of it when he comments, “I know you’re too smart to be risking it all on some number fixing so what is it? Saving up for a house? Sleep is for the lazy?”

Leon freezes and scowls at Christian for a moment, before he seems to catch himself and relax. That surprises Christian. Leon had never done that before.

“What the fuck Leon?” Christian shoots back with an amused tone. He’s not really amused, but traders work in a small team and he doesn’t want to unnecessarily ruin the camaraderie here because he’s annoyed.

Leon just stares at him, bleary-eyed for a moment. He really hasn’t been sleeping. Now Christian is just worried.

“I need a break.” Leon announces suddenly.

It’s a hint, so Christian shrugs and says, “Sure I’ll come with you.”

Downstairs, Leon presses a cigarette to his lips and inhales deeply. Many bankers smoked, it relaxed them, and gave them an excuse to catch ten minutes to themselves and network while they did it. Who knew how much the world had been changed thanks to verbal deals made and sealed during these cigarette breaks? Relatively confined places where men and women had to share an ashtray, as most the world glared at them askance for being idiots. Around these areas, they shared their vice and usually saw each other several times a day. So why not talk while they did so? As they shared lighters to light their drags and cynically joke about what a terrible habit smoking is? Christian doesn’t smoke, but he knows that his brother used to. Daan managed to kick the addiction, mostly because cigarettes were obscenely expensive. Daan simply didn’t see the value in them anymore when there were other cheaper ways to calm down. Also, Mathias had played a big role in reminding (strong-arming) Daan to seek breaks in other ways - literally pulling him away from his computer on weekends to go cycling, or generally being a pest until Daan was forced to drop what he was doing and make sure Mathias didn’t accidentally kill himself while trying something that sounded really fun, but was perhaps very stupid. In Daan’s case, when he mountain biked through woods and trees, he didn’t need the false relaxation that came from nicotine, he got the real thing. Still, Christian saw the weed in his brother’s room, sometimes his brother still needed the additional help just to sleep.

So...Christian simply stands there outside, traffic going by and pedestrians walking around them on the street in front of their office building. He muses while Leon slowly burns his way through the cigarette, also deep in thought. It then finally occurs to Christian that he should be checking up on Emil, because what if this is connected to him? As he pulls out his phone, Leon all but confirms it.

“How is Emil doing?”

Christian freezes and raises an eyebrow. “Sometimes Em needs quiet time and goes off the grid. Is that what’s stressing you out?” It’s possible that Emil simply disappeared on Leon, and Leon, not knowing Emil as well, had assumed bad things.

“He seemed upset when we last talked and he hasn’t responded to my messages. Is that normal?”

Oh for...Christian rubs his face with his hands and tiredly faces his colleague. “What happened?”

Leon narrows his eyes and takes another long drag. “Has Emil ever dated anyone before? I mean like...actually dated, not just you know, stand around and be admired and respond to it for however long that can possibly last when one party just doesn’t talk?”

Christian doesn’t like the tone and feels rather defensive of his best friend. “Not everyone needs to be surrounded by people and making noise all the time Leon.”  

Leon deflates a little and leans against the column. “I’m sorry, yeah I just…” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t know he liked me. But now that I know he does I don’t know how to handle it, and I know that makes me a shitty friend, so maybe I don’t deserve like...friendship.”

Christian really can’t see the whole picture here but he can guess at what happened. “Not that this is any of my business but I feel like in order to help...what exactly did Emil say to make you...come to this conclusion?” He wasn’t going to confirm or deny the truth of what Leon said, it wasn’t really his place to.

Leon stubs out the cigarette and turns to face Christian. “He said ‘I like you Leon’, it was hard to miss.”

Christian should have known better, he really should have, when he advised his friend with ‘TALK’. Though he also had said ‘prod’ and ‘find out’. Christian hadn’t meant this flat out statement. In retrospect he should have given more directions, knowing who he was talking to. He had thought that Emil was getting better at the whole ‘talking’ thing since they’d grown up though.

“What did you say? I promise you Leon, I know Emil and he’s not the type of person to force himself on someone who doesn’t want him. But with how he’s gone quiet and you’re a wreck, I get the feeling something bad was said.” Christian can’t help his tone darkening at the thought of his sensitive friend being hurt, even though it’s impossible to avoid hurt in this world. But Emil has gone through so much, and feels so much intensely. He voids up his feelings sometimes because the alternative is too painful.

Something must show on Christian’s face because Leon puts his hands up briefly, as if to defend himself, before dropping them again. “I got defensive right like, and I kinda laughed and said ‘Like yeah I figured, I don’t think you’d spend this much time with anyone you didn’t like’, then he asked me out on a date and I was like, shit he really went there! So I, yeah I mean I actually said, ‘oh crap, you mean that kind of ‘like’?”

This column looked hard enough, made with granite. Christian wanted to knock some heads into it.

Leon continued. “So yeah like...then we just looked at each other and it was really awkward and really quiet because I had...dude I had no idea what to say. That’s never happened to me before! And it must have been really awkward for a really really long time because Emil eventually just gets up and says ‘forget I said anything’ and leaves.”

Seriously? “And... ?”

“And I was still in shock okay! I sat there for a really long time, then when I started messaging him, he wouldn’t answer!” Leon pulls out his phone and shows Christian a screen full of ‘read’ messages. “He still hasn’t answered!”

Christian waves the phone away. “Look I don’t know what to make of this. Do you like Emil that way or not?”

Leon waves his arms around in an almost panic. “I don’t know! I’ve never thought of being with a dude or basically anyone who wasn’t born female okay? That was the expectation! I’ve never stopped to question it or think about what it means! I think a lot about how to be financially secure by the time I’m 30, not this stuff! I just kind of thought the other stuff would just happen or fall into place? That I could give my parents the grandbabies that would look like them to play with and carry on our name once I made my fortune! Not like ‘Wong’ is the most endangered name in the world or anything, but yeah! Call me an idiot or a bigot or whatever, I never thought about it until now alright?! I don’t know and I wish that I did!”

Christian feels like he can go home right now, trading day be damned. “Did you tell him this?”

“Dude, did you read the messages I sent to him?!”

Christian rolls his eyes. “No I didn’t, how is that any of my busine-” Leon shoves the phone in front of him again and Christian reads Leon’s many panicked messages explaining what he feels or confusion and general state of not knowing what he feels. Each statement seems to contradict the previous one, some of them are downright unintentially insulting, and poorly worded in panic. No wonder Emil is ignoring him...but hasn’t blocked him. It also appears that they’re equally idiotic at speaking to each other. Just now Christian had wanted to scream ‘damnit Emil, you didn’t have to say it like that’ but now he’s barely restraining himself from strangling Leon. “You...couldn’t have waited till your thoughts were clearer before you tried saying anything to him?”

“Who knows how long it would take if I wait that long?! Wouldn’t I make it worse by just being silent?”

Christian throws his hands up in the air. “How do you have this many friends and still not know how to talk to people?!”

Leon is pulling at his hair with one hand now. “Dude! My friends and I are friends because we like money! I talk to them about cars, phones, cameras, movies, gambling and the latest fashions! None of them are like Emil! I don’t know how to talk to Emil! Emil is fucking deep okay, he’s different! I tried to figure it out for months but he doesn’t really like talking unless he’s really interested!”

Christian is now rubbing his face in his hands, this is a disaster. “Cars, phones, cameras, movies, gambling and fashion...seriously? That’s what you’ve been talking at Emil about for the past few months? Fuck me, he must really like you, though I have no idea why.”

“Hey! No you aren’t listening. I said that’s what I talk about with my other friends! Emil and I mostly talked about art.”

Christian freezes and drops his hands. Something clicks in his brain. “Art?”

“Yes, art. That’s what I spend my bonus money on sometimes, I buy and collect art, usually contemporary Chinese stuff but also stuff from Japan. I kind of dabble occasionally with the stuff that’s starting to come out of Southeast Asia but that’s just beginning days. Sometimes I sell my stuff too, but usually I buy. Emil has a good eye, I mean of course he does, his mother was an artist right? We talk about art but we also talk about how art influences like everything! What do you think they use to design cars? Safety sure but like, you can’t just have an ugly safe car! And phones, they have to be aesthetically pleasing you know? You think the designers pull all this out of thin air? No they’re inspired. Arguably, I mean, there hasn’t been a truly beautiful car since the-”

“Leon! Shut up! You speak to Emil about Art?”

“That’s what I just said!”

Christian forces himself to take a mental step back. Traders develop impatient personalities - because their work moves at such a fast pace they develop a habit of not being able to wait for anything. They want the delivery now, they want the call to come back now, they need the response now, they need that taxi now...well, ‘now’ is generous, traders need everything ‘yesterday’, but that’s a problem because Emil doesn’t work by the rules of ‘now’ and ‘yesterday’. Most people don’t actually. There’s so many things to unpack here.

Traders also crave effective solutions. Okay Christian, step-by-step.

“Leon...do you want my advice?”

“Yes! You’ve known him all his life!”

“Why?” It has to be asked. If Leon can’t talk to Emil without making Emil feel like he’s unwelcome, if Leon doesn’t know how to talk to Emil without accidentally causing hurt or silencing him, if Leon didn’t know himself what he wants...why should Christian help him? It would be better for Emil to forget about Leon for now, and let Leon do the growing up he needed to do.

Leon deflates at the question and leans against the pillar, which he slowly sinks down against until he’s awkwardly leaning against the lower end of it, arms resting on his legs. He stares down at the floor. “Because he’s my friend Christian. I think he’s the only real friend I have. It scares me. You have no idea how much it scares me. What kind of person reaches our age and only has one real friend outside of family? A person like me. Here I am. I’m everything I was raised to be - successful, rich and getting richer, I know powerful people. Yeah, meeting Emil was a case of mistaken identity and then I got to know him. He’s even better than the mistaken identity...so here I am, some kid with no real friends. What have I done to deserve like...someone else’s real feelings? I never expected to be liked for the sake of being me, I thought that whole thing would be a business transaction like anything else - a merger you know? Like everything else in life, why do you think I work so hard for money? I mean, don’t relationships sound like mergers to you? Like, similar ambitions and resources coming together into partnership to make something stronger?”

What a fine mess this is. Christian leans against the pillar, looking down at Leon in thought. They’ve been away for a long time now even by the standards of a cigarette break but who cares? Once upon a time, Daan may have said something similar about relationships -  but even then, Daan would say these things but scribble poetry that betrayed his actual thoughts once he thought no one was looking. Call Christian a nosy little brother, he’s snuck in and had read some of these poems before, when he was too young to fully understand the importance of how private these thoughts were. He stopped after Belle caught him and gave him a long lecture about it. To her credit, she never told Daan, and she placed the journal back on the shelf. Now, for the first time in years, Christian thinks back to the words he read, that his brother had written from the depths of his heart - locked away from outside eyes because he never felt that he should be vulnerable. Christian feels invisible fingers squeezing his heart in his chest - the longing, the desire, the cry for someone to want to understand, to be worthy of someone to cherish - freedom to love, freedom to live by one’s own rules, not that of anyone else. Most of all, the simple beauty of those wishes. Maybe Christian had always believed more of his brother because he had read those words and knew that more rested underneath Daan’s otherwise hard demeanour even back then.

“Do you actually believe that?” Christian asks softly. “I know some people do and it makes sense. Marriage started out as a business or political tradition more than anything else, but this isn’t medieval times. We’re all encouraged to be romantics now. So have you always believed that?”

Leon shrugs. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I never thought about it. Now I am. It’s a lot of thinking to make up for more than two decades of living and not thinking about why people come together despite not really matching up on paper.”

“Have you ever liked anyone?” Christian asks, suddenly curious about what it must feel like.

“Yeah, at least I had thought so. Usually people like me.”

Sounds about right for what Emil had mentioned. “And why didn’t those work out?”

Leon shrugs. “Because sometimes, no matter how good you are on paper, or jointly-ambitious, it doesn’t necessarily mean compatibility. Sometimes I don’t know why it didn’t work out - as I said, great on paper just isn’t good enough sometimes.”

Christian nods. “Well Leon, I can listen but that’s basically all I can do. I can’t be the one who makes a decision on what you want from Emil, or if Emil should even want you now, that’s up to you two to figure out separately. To me it just sounds like you want Emil to be your friend, because he’s your only friend. Man...that’s not a good reason. I think you need to take what you’ve learned here and go out and find more...as you call it, ‘real’ friends.”

Leon sags even more. “So I’ve well and truly fucked up with Emil huh? I never wanted to hurt him I just...I just did.”

Christian has never seen Leon look so...raw. Raw, guilt-ridden, and young.  “I mean...regardless of whether Emil feels comfortable enough to talk to you again, it just sounds like you need to figure out if you actually like my best friend or if you just don’t know what having a real friend is like. Maybe going out there and making more genuine friends may help you determine the difference, then you can figure out if you ever liked Emil the way he liked you to begin with. No guarantees that he’ll still be around or available though. That’s honestly up to him. Leon man, there’s a big difference between liking someone, or just fearing their absence.”

Christian can’t help the small grimace at that. He may not have his own romantic experience to draw from, but he knows that both Daan and Belle have made that mistake - holding on because of possession, because of fearing the unknown, because they didn’t want to lose someone, rather than holding on because they had actually loved them.

“Yeah.” Leon breathes out. “You’re right, totally like...yeah just right. I need to figure myself out, sometimes I’m not sure if I’m like unfairly uncomfortable at the idea of being with Emil because just being his friend already makes me question all this stuff. If I hadn’t met him, maybe it would be easier, like I’d have been happy just living as I was, but like...once you start demanding and expecting more from things and people, you can’t just stop. And it’s not fair, it’s absolutely not fair to think that. On the other hand I’m like...grateful. But I feel like I need to grow up again when I already was supposed to have finished the process and figured shit out.”

Christian grins humorlessly and sinks down next to Leon, slacks be damned. “Seems to me that it never really stops right? We’re supposed to change and grow.”

Leon lets out a huff. “I thought adulting would mean having all my shit together. Fine. Anyway, if Emil wants to cut me out because I hurt him, I totally get it but I don’t want to end it just like this.” He lifts up his phone. “Shit ton of incoherent messages? Dude, this friendship deserves more than that.”

Christian laughs. “I know that we like getting things done like...now right now! But take a break. Do something else, wait at least a day or something and if you figure out what you actually want to say to Emil, and I mean it, the actual message, not something you’ll want to change a few minutes later, then send that to him. And you know, be honest, tell him kind of what you told me - you’re grateful, you respect him, knowing him has made you want to figure yourself out, and you want to be his friend when you deserve to be...or I dunno, that’s basically what you told me in all your rambling. Also very important because Emil feels nervous about this stuff - tell him that he’s in no way obligated to-”

“Respond, yeah yeah, or like, take me back as a friend or like, I dunno, more…maybe, I don’t…” Leon’s cheeks go pink. “Man this is so hard! Can I pay you to write the message for me?! You’d be so good at it!”

Christian doesn’t dignify that desperate question with a response.

“Fine! Sorry I’m an idiot! Ugh. I’m just...I get nervous over important stuff. I may never write that message because I don’t want to get it wrong!”

Over important stuff. Christian has to smile a little at that. “That’s something you two have in common with each other. Good luck.”

“Chrisman!”

Christian takes a deep breath. “Take a day to yourself, and tell him exactly that, say you get nervous and say the wrong things when it’s something very important to you, be honest. Trust me, Emil will understand if you tell him that. I don’t think he knows how nervous you get. You both just...express that same anxiety differently.”

Leon swallows a nervous gulp. “Yeah?”

Christian shrugs.

“Fine, okay.” Leon sighs. “Time to get back to work I guess.”

“Get some sleep too, take a melatonin if you have to. I don’t think the lack of sleep is doing anything good for your brain.”

Leon nods and they walk back to their desks.

It’s a Friday night when Christian finally makes it over to visit Emil and Lukas has let him in with a look of relief in his eyes.

“Christian, come in. Rough week.” It’s more a statement than a question. Lukas is also a trader by trade (heh), but he trades energy while Christian trades financial investments. It’s different specialties but Lukas is of course, much more senior and aware of all the numbers. He knows what they’ve been like this week, he can guess what kind of week Christian has had.

“Yeah, but I think we’re starting to see it stabilize. I haven’t had a chance to check in with Emil and he’s pretty quiet even by his standards…?”

Lukas narrows his eyes. “That kid who works with you-”

“Has also looked like hell this week. Think it’s okay to check on Em?”

“For you? It generally is. Anyway, you two have fun, I think Emil needs space right now so I’ll let you two have the apartment, I’m heading out, but I’ll be back with Mathias later. You want anything? Chocolate? Snacks?”

It’s kind of cute sometimes, how the older ones still spoke to them as if they were twelve. Emil didn’t really like it but Christian milked it as much as he could. “Maybe not chocolate but if there are leftover danishes from the shop, it would be a waste to throw them out?”

Lukas smiles as he wraps his scarf around his neck. “We’re up to our ears in danishes, but it’s winter, we need the sugar. See you later. EMIL! Christian’s here!”

“Bye!”

Christian follows the echo of Emil’s voice to the study, not to his room, interesting. He opens the door and his jaw drops. Emil is covered in paint, there’s plastic covering the furniture and desk, it’s just Emil and a large canvas on an easel, with some interesting music that sounded like a combination of folk song and metal screaming from the laptop.

“Hey.” Emil nods at him. “Careful, there’s paint on the floor.” Christian looks down and sees the plastic covering there too and gingerly places his laptop bag down against the wall outside. It’s interesting once he’s in, there’s several canvases lined up against the walls, one looks like a futuristic cityscape, all dark blues, a blurry suggestion of neon lights and other artificial lights surrounded by a green sea. There’s a vague impression of swirls that imply something more natural throughout, almost like those mosaics of images that make up a larger image but not quite. Christian isn’t sure if the swirl is the sea, or a fish, or something else, but it’s curious. Now Emil is smearing blue onto a new canvas, on top of the white he’s already painted on it. The paints smear together, forming a pleasant light blue shade, but he adds more different shades of blue and specs of green to it.

“Emil this is cool!” Christian grins. “When did you start painting? I don’t remember you doing this since well...before the accident.” Which was now a long time ago.

His best friend shrugs. “Yeah. I just remembered it. I don’t know, you reach a breaking point sometimes right? Then I remembered playing with my mother’s paints and felt like doing that again. I’ve been doing that every evening this week, whenever I get back from work. Actually I didn’t bother going in today, I worked remotely, but actually I didn’t do anything. I guess I’ll need to catch up tomorrow. Whatever.”

“Did you just buy paints?”

Emil smiles, it’s bittersweet. “No. These are Mama’s. I thought we tossed out a lot of stuff but somehow her paints, easel and canvas stayed. At first I thought I didn’t want to touch them unless I had a masterpiece in here, then I figured...well, she’d be upset if they just kept collecting dust so...and the paints surprisingly, were sealed well enough that they didn’t dry out. I will run out soon though, I just ordered some online.”  

“What are you painting now?”

Emil shrugs. “I have no idea, I’m just playing around. Have you had dinner?”

“Nah, thought I’d see if you were in the mood to eat with me. If you’re in the artist zone though, I can help myself.”

Emil laughs at that. “Artist zone. I’m in the kid’s zone honestly, just playing around. I should make time to do this, it would help with my stress levels. I guess I just need to worry about paint fumes.”

With the amount his friend was suddenly smiling, Christian had to nod. Emil did seem a little high. “Yeah the study seems kind of small?”

“Lukas keeps telling me to leave the door open but I also kind of want to do this privately. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can rent space somewhere, there’s so many community spaces I just need to look. Food?”

They dig up whatever is in the fridge and make do with leftovers. It’s nice to relax here at the end of a long week. “When you’re working tomorrow I can hang around and work here, with the VPN.” Christian adds between bites. Emil meanwhile, looks like he’s very far away, but nods.

Christian wonders if he should bring Leon up at all. Since their conversation earlier in the week, it looked like his colleague was doing better but Christian hadn’t pried about things like whether or not he ever sent a message he was happy with.

“How’s Leon?” Or sometimes your best friend just read your mind.

“Well, he was terrible earlier in the week but by the latter part of the week he started looking like a man who understood what sleep was again.”

Emil nods and takes another bite.

Christian shakes his head. “Em... how are you?”

Emil chews and thinks on the question. “You know, if you had asked me earlier in the week, I was feeling so shitty I didn’t want to see anyone, not even you, barely even Lukas. But as I said, sometimes you hit a breaking point. Right now I feel strangely…well, not good, but not as bad as before and...not as bad as I thought I’d be. I knew Leon wasn’t interested and wasn’t expecting anything. I think what bothers me more is the idiotic back and forth - just tell me ‘no’ damnit and get it over with. The more awkward it is, the less bad I feel about things. That, on top of my usual feelings about work.” He shrugs.

Christian nods, feeling a relief of sorts, he’s not quite sure how to appraoch this. “Did he...send you any coherent message at any point?”

Emil snorts with some laughter, but it’s still exasperated. “Eventually, yes. Did you know that Leon gets nervous? I mean, it sounds stupid to hear me say it now, everyone gets nervous, but I thought Leon was immune for some reason - crush goggles probably. I got a message that finally wasn’t shit and contained a proper apology, but he needs to figure shit out and frankly, so do I.”

Now the relief is full blown and Christian feels a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. “I’m so glad to hear that Em. You know what this calls for?”

Emil raises an anticipatory eyebrow, and Christian knows that the tables are about to be turned on him. It’s confirmed when Emil calmly answers “Brennivin.”

Yeah, that’s a little smirk. Christian looks around when Emil gets up to retrieve the drink from the fridge - if they were going to get drunk, well there were worse places to do it than here, already at home. It’s also worrying though, because Emil usually wouldn’t choose to let go this much at home. He never had actually. Christian sends off a quick text to Belle letting her know that he’s not likely going home tonight. Even if he isn’t going to keep up with Emil with the shots, he’s not going to abandon him either. And maybe if it was at all possible, he could prevent too much insanity.

Christian knocks back the first shot though, of course he does. They’re celebrating the better end of a shit week, but he’s also hoping that Emil opens up about...well anything he needs to open up about. It’s good to let the caraway burn down the back of his throat - it’s cold out and the Brennivin relieves that despite being chilly itself. But to his surprise, it’s Emil who takes charge of the conversation while he’s contemplating life and Brennivin.

“You look like you’ve had a stressful week too,” Emil sighs, leaning over to refill Christian’s shot. “But you know, I had an idea. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve dreamed up about your dream home and I’ll paint it. You can hang it up in your room so you won’t forget about it.”

Christian feels warmth in chest as grins ruefully, “You think I’m that forgetful? It’s been the only thing I’ve been thinking about when I’m not working.”

“Yeah but you’re not going to have a painting of your work.”

There’s some kind of artist’s logic there, and Christian expects Emil to explain it to him. Instead, Emil raises a second shot.

“Are we drinking to the fact that no one paints the concept of stock exchange?” Christian asks because really, but Emil just laughs.

“No, because that’s not true, there are paintings of everything, and that means there are also lots of paintings of the stock exchange.” He says with a thoroughly unimpressed tone.

Christian has to laugh, he knows that Emil would never forgive him if he spent money on a painting of the stock exchange.

“Okay, how about this,” Christian lifts the shot glass for the next toast. “Let’s drink to the fact that you’re like my brother too, and I love you so much that I’ll never buy a painting of a stock exchange, or money, stuff you hate. To art Emil won’t hate!”

Emil looks like he wants to say something but just downs the shot instead.

Christian doesn’t know how many shots they had in total, but before he completely loses it he remembers to turn on the mic on his phone to record them because he knows, he just KNOWS that their conversation is actually mindblowing and out of this world. It’s going to answer all the problems of everything that was ever everything. They’ve gazed off the edge of the world and saw the wisdom over the falls.

Except...

“Toast to Pelutze!” Christian cries - it’s all chill and warm and spice now, nothing else.

“Who?”

“My dog!”

And because Emil is his best friend, he nicely doesn't mention that Christian doesn't have a dog yet. Nope, he just shrugs and cries “...to Pelutze!”

Somehow they’ve happily stumbled back to the paint room, green bottle in Christian’s hand as Emil decides to paint Christian’s dog. It’s a masterpiece.

Then Christian tries to make the words to describe his dream home but it’s morpheous and keeps flitting around, but there’s a nice big yard but it’s so so empty that Christian suddenly wants to cry so he tells Emil to cover it in Pelutzes instead. But no he’s crying, the Pelutzes are too late. What is the point of a beautiful home and a big dog when it’s just him? What happens if he moves out on his own, when his best friend actually falls in love and leaves and dilutes himself from his life, when his brother needs to wander again and runs to the other side of the world? When his sister’s guilty heart does the same and just like before he’s left with an empty apartment or the trading room - but at least he has company in the trading room. What’s wrong with him? Christian finally has his house but there’s no one there, nothing but bunnies and dogs and the poetry of the numbers and the predictable confusion of human whims that controls the numbers he trades. They’re beautiful and wonderful and cuddly to him - the bunnies, the dogs, the numbers, yes even the numbers. But they’re not his family. Why is he crying? There’s nothing to cry about, seriously why…?

And now Emil is crying, Christian is fucking contagious. He glares at the bottle of Brennivit as if it’s all its fault. And because they may as well be brothers, they hold each other, while Emil still tries to paint his dream house and its many dogs. Christian dips a finger in some paint and draws a stupidly wobbly stick figure, then another, and more happy things. It’s starting to look familiar, so Emil stops and gives up, letting Christian continue his elementary finger painting.

Oh...it looks a lot like the Kohler home. That makes a strange sense, he had spent a lot of time there, Emil lived there and it was always warm no matter how cold in life or outside. No matter how uncomfortable Christian had felt as a young boy with his hand-me-down sweaters and a family fractured all over the world with three babies from three random hookups. Here it was how it was supposed to be, here he was just another member of the family. Here, fire always crackled in the fireplace, here, even his brother smiled. It was…

“I’ve been looking the wrong way. That’s it, that’s…” He looks around but Emil has fallen back on the carpet. It’s dark in the room, there’s only one lamp on, and the trails from Emil’s previous tears. Previous? Christian decides to falls over backwards and realizes just how plush and comfortable the carpet is, but now that he’s right next to him, he can see how broken his friend looks. The house...he’s an idiot. “Oh Em I’m sorry.”

Emil shakes his head and Christian reaches out. They hold each other in the dimness and Christian holds Emil against his chest, resting his chin on soft hair. It’s comfortable on the carpet, and Christian can feel himself sagging into his dreams. Somewhere in between this world and the land of dreams, he thinks he hears Emil say something.

It’s warm here. Matthew breathes in the salty sea air and takes in a view he hasn’t seen in many many years. He loves Cuba already, he’s nineteen and ready for his first adventure outside of Canada, and there’s a part of him that’s not so secretly satisfied that he’s set foot in a place that his brother cannot go…

There’s a part of him that scoffs at that now, but then? You can be forgiven for making sweeping conclusions at nineteen.

He had gone for a special language course at the University of Havana, at least, that was the excuse. It was the summer before he would start his year abroad in Houston (and the disaster that was his personal experience there even if he held the city no personal ill will). Everyone had been yelling at him for years to do something crazy. Well here he was, this was it for him.

Travelling to a new country wasn’t exactly most people’s definition of “crazy” but it was still significant for Matthew. Up to that point, he had played it safe, preferred the quiet, his own company, and the cold. He fell sick whenever the temperatures teased their way to thirty degrees, he swam in the snow just for fun. So yes, running off to Cuba was “crazy” enough. The beginning of Havana had been wonderful - stepping into a new world of warmth and experience. Why had he forgotten it? Maybe because he had set forth for adventure outside of his vast country twice, and both times had made him vulnerable in a way that Canada never forced him to endure. It was easier to choose to forget.

But right now, he’s dreaming of it - he’s dreaming some fantastical, magical version of his early days in Havana, and he can’t bring himself to wake up even though he knows it’s a dream - or maybe it’s a memory springing forth because there’s no resistance to it.

The warm buzz from the wine has taken him back to a different warmth - a warm night. The humidity had turned his hair almost frizzy with curls but he hadn’t cared. His glasses smudged often with grease, humidity, and sweat, but he just wiped them clean with the cotton on his shirt and continued smiling anyway. When someone pressed a cocktail into his hand, he drank from it happily. In that warm haze of happiness he allowed himself to sway to the music - badly probably. That’s when he saw him.

Everything Matthew had wanted to be when he was nineteen, still, actually - confident, charismatic. When Carlos Garcia laughed and danced, he owned the room. And somehow on that evening, Carlos Garcia had decided that he wanted to teach Matthew how to dance as opposed to sway like a dead man thrown into a river.

Somewhere buried in the back of a book that Matthew no longer opens, but can’t get rid of, is a picture of him and Carlos lying down on a beach in Gilbara. Matthew is sitting down, looking out at the water, and Carlos is lying on the sand with his head on Matthew’s lap. The funny thing about something ending is that sometimes your mind blocks out the happier stuff from before. But now that Matthew is allowing himself to remember Cuba again, he remembers Carlos. For Matthew, Carlos is Cuba, there’s no separating the two.

Physically, Carlos and Daan are as different as night and day. Daan is long and lean, while Carlos was a little shorter than Matthew, strong and heavyset. Daan’s hair is short and styled to clean and spiky perfection - not a strand out of place. Carlos’ hair was long and free, twisted into dreadlocks. Looks were shallow though, because both possesed a familiar solid charisma, old-world charm, and frightening honesty that partnered comfortably with an easy confidence that lent well to leadership. Qualities that Matthew desperately wished he had.

Now he wants to wake up. He knows what happens after he leaves Cuba.   

And when he does…

The light through the curtains tells Matthew that he’s overslept. Fuck.

Not overslept actually, it’s just that he tries to wake up before sunrise three times a week for a run. He needs to run to burn off his excess energy, to manage stress, to make sure he doesn’t fall too far behind Alfred physically or his brother will walk all over him by habit. Besides, Matthew isn’t naive enough to overlook the fact that he’s been treated better at work since he’s gotten fit so…Wait, where is he? It takes a moment to adjust, simply because it’s not what he’s used to seeing. Eventually his brain catches up with him and Matthew jumps out of bed with a yelp.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...” He’s not exhausted and cranky anymore - just a moment ago he was warm, happy, worried, now he’s all over the place and out of sorts. Shit shit shit why did he think about Cuba? What on...forget that. He has to shower, he has to change, he doesn’t have his clothes he has to iron them and he’s late!

Matthew throws his bedroom door open, and sees Daan and Lukas look up at him curiously.

“Good morning.” They both greet in unison, and Matthew stands there frozen for a moment at the shocking domestic normalcy. Daan is sitting at the table, pouring chocolate sprinkles on a slice of bread and Lukas is ironing in the back of the kitchen near the washing and dryer machines. They’re both already dressed, though Lukas is wearing office attire and Daan has his bicycle-riding getup on with a fitting highlighter-orange shirt. Pretty darn fitting. Shit. It’s too early in the morning for this. Too late, but too early. He tries to step forward but instead walks into something.

“Ow! What the-” Hopping slightly and holding his pained toe, he looks down at a...a Roomba? It’s the slimmest Roomba he’s ever seen though, and Nijntje is sitting on it as it carries on, cleaning up the apartment.

“You okay?” Daan is half standing from the table and Matthew desperately waves him away.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just uh...ugh.” He limps a little to the breakfast table, while desperately trying to think of a way to distract them from his embarrassment. “Uh...where’s Mathias?” Why was that the first question out of his mouth?

Daan looks at him with concern and...that look again, that stupid Partner look like they’re reading your mind. Then it seems, as soon as the scrutiny starts, it stops. Daan instead sips coffee from a...a dick mug, of course. “He operates a food place.” He responds after he swallows. “He left hours ago to open up and catch the morning office crowd.” Breathe Matthew. Breathe.

“Oh...right. Uh...I’ll just change quickly and I’ll drive you guys to work? It’s the least I can do, you let me stay the night.”

Lukas and Daan look at each other with amused looks on their faces.

“It’s okay Matthew.” Daan smirks. “You didn’t exactly stay the night by choice.”

“So you’ve already done us a favor.” Lukas adds. “Here, I ironed your clothes.” He turns off the iron and walks up, holding a hanger with Matthew’s clothes, looking even more crisp than they did yesterday. How did he do that?! Matthew can only look at Lukas in astonishment and wonder for a moment again, how he ever ended up being able to date this guy. Or really...any guy he had ever dated, come think of it. At least with Lukas it ended before he could get truly hurt.

“Right, well, time for me to go.” He turns to see that Daan is leaving the table and heading to the door, carrying a light backpack.

“Wait Daan, you don’t want a ride?”

“Today’s a cycling day. I want to fit in as many of these in while the weather’s still good, which also means I need to leave now.”

As Daan takes down his selected bicycle from its place on the wall, Matthew remembers that sometimes, Daan cycles to work. Good thing there are showers in the office. “Oh, okay. Uh, be safe.”

Daan barely shrugs and opens the door.

“Wait!” Matthew calls out, it finally hits him, what’s wrong with this picture. “You don’t wear a helmet?!”

Daan looks back at him with a straight face. “I have a hard head.”

Matthew doesn’t answer because he can’t. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, and he’s tired and out-of-sorts enough that it must show on his face because Daan throws up his hands in annoyance and stalks to a nearby closet.

“Oh fine! Is the auditor happy?” He asks, holding up a helmet and strapping it on.

“I...don’t know why you’re annoyed, I’m clearly the one who’s right here…?” Matthew responds with genuine confusion.

Matthew can’t read the deadpan look on Daan’s face but he isn’t sure it’s all that great. “I bet that’s your response whenever you turn up every year for the scheduled audit. Bye.” He waves at both of them, then leaves.

Matthew waves too, but once the door is closed he turns to Lukas. “Is it just me or was that weird? That was kind of weird right? Wait...ugh priorities, I need to get dressed. Damnit, I really did wake up late.”

Lukas just looks at him, then at the door in concern. Finally he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Matthew, do me a favor. Breathe with me okay.”

What?

But that’s all Lukas does, stands in front of him quietly, with a little roomba working in the background, breathing deeply. Finally Matthew follows and after an initial period of feeling like an idiot he actually just focuses on breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out...breathe…

Eventually the world comes back into focus again. He still needs a shower, but it’s not life or death. Lukas seems to note the change too and nods. “Good. You have time, your clothes are ironed and you drive to work. Anyway, I’m not addicted to cycling, so I’ll take you up on that ride.”

He’s right. Matthew allows himself a smile “Where’d you learn that?”

Lukas scoffs a little. “From two different people - didn’t listen to the first one, then when I learned it from the second one I felt pretty dumb for ignoring it the first time. Simple but effective though. Why don’t you eat breakfast? It’s right there on the table, yoghurt, cheese and milk are in the fridge.”

Matthew looks at the table and notes that everything he would need for a cold breakfast is there. On weekdays he generally grabs something hot on the way into work leaving himself to cook his favorites on weekends. “Okay...cold it is.” He didn’t mind cereal, he just usually preferred something warm.

“You want...eggs? Something more filling?” Lukas guessed.

“No,” Matthew smiles, “I mean I’m used to warm things in the morning but the chocolate on bread thing looked good.”

Lukas nods, looking thoughtful about something before walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some coffee, how do you like it?”

The coffee did wonders for Matthew’s mind. He remembered why he was here in this apartment in the first place instead of his own. Now that he’s more awake and there’s more light streaming into the apartment through open curtains, he notices more than he did yesterday - there’s a balcony with a healthy collection of lush green plants, and colorful flowers. Hitam is drinking water in her open cage, Nijntje is still riding around on the Roomba, and Maple appears to be asleep. It’s such a cheerful place, that clearly had a lot of thought put into it that Matthew feels sorry for Daan that he likely doesn’t spend much time in it.

“Your clothes.” Lukas says randomly, taking a seat across him at the table.

“My? Oh heh yeah. I’m amazed they don’t have anything inappropriate written on them. I suppose there was a limit to the gag gifts?” Matthew jokes.

Lukas smiles slightly. “No, because those are Mathias’ clothes. Makes sense I guess. Daan may be tall but he’s lean. Probably figured you wouldn’t be comfortable if he loaned you his clothes.”

Oh...that made sense actually. Speaking of Mathias, “You know it’s not my place to pry but…how are you doing? How is...I mean you seem tired but overall is it...good?” It’s a little awkward once it leaves his mouth, and Matthew doesn’t quite understand why he’s just asked his ex how it’s going with the first ex, but...well Lukas was the one who had brought him here. The two of them didn’t seem to interact much the previous night.

Matthew can see Lukas think of the answer. “It’s better.” He acknowledges. Lukas’ eyes flicker to his and stops.

“I can take it.” Matthew mutters, not quite sure if it’s true but he’s the one who asked, and somehow it’s less frightening than thinking of the fact that he’s in Daan’s home, dreaming of Carlos and his own mistakes. “Or I wouldn’t have asked. I’m...glad. I mean, is it still raw? Yeah, but it was nice to see the three of you last night, reminiscing and getting along. It was warm and...thanks for making sure I was never left out.”

Now Lukas looks surprised. He nods with a small smile and shrugs. “Thanks for coming here. I’m glad that you felt comfortable. I realize I must have put you in an awkward spot bringing you here.”

Matthew runs a thumb on the handle of his cup, and takes a deep breath. He looks at his mug while he does - a plain thing painted with a cheerful orange color - more orange, there’s a clear running theme here. There’s a lot of splashes of orange in this place. “Thanks for acknowledging that.” He eventually lets out. “But I’m the one who called you, so...I’m not entirely blameless. Did you two manage to talk about Arthur at all?” Matthew still doesn’t understand why a simple request to a friend of Arthur’s to check in on the man led to this but who knows? Maybe Lukas didn’t even know why he came here - maybe it was some unknown childhood dynamic thing - have a problem? Where do you go?

Lukas yawns and nods. “Daan will send me a message if he notes or hears that Arthur has been particularly bad, or is looking forward to a stressful time...which actually will be coming up soon. Daan gave me the heads up that has to hand over a large project to him today.” Lukas looks somewhat disappointed but doesn’t say much more. “He’s right though, a lot of what has to be done well...I’m Arthur’s friend. I have to do it, and I’ll start by taking him on a hike this weekend.”

Matthew smiles at that. It’s apt and appropriate. He’s also glad that even though they probably won’t be hiking together in the near future, that Lukas will still be able to give himself a reason to go.

“Speaking of, I’m helping to organize Arthur’s Partner party. I was planning on inviting you, and Belle, and well, Arthur’s friends basically in addition to my department and his current one. Could you do me a favor and think of anyone else who ought to be there while I finish up and get ready for work?”

“Sure.” Lukas shrugs, relieved and happy that they’re back to the topic of a common goal. “It’s basically one other guy, a friend of ours from the MBA. I think I can convince him to come on over. We can discuss the rest on the road.”

Matthew freezes a little standing up. “About that I...uh. Well I guess it’s a compliment that you trust me to drive so...thanks for that. But honestly it never occured to me until last night that being in a car is something that potentially uh, terrifies you so...if you’re ever in my car and uncomfortable you can-”

Lukas lets out a  sardonic laugh. “I’m terrified in very specific circumstances, otherwise it’s fine. But thanks.”

There’s an awkward beat where neither moves and they smile at each other, but it doesn’t last long. Matthew has a meeting to get to.

Before they get into the car though. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Matthew has to ask again.

Lukas just rolls his eyes with a smile. “Ask me anything else. Yes! I’m fine. It’s not like visibility will be terrible in rush hour traffic. At worst, someone may bump into you.”

Matthew laughs and pats his car with reassurance. “Well she may be old but she’s solid. Part of the fun about driving a pick-up in the city is that people generally avoid you. So no bumps.”

Of course, later he realizes that he’s now kind of stuck in a car in rush hour traffic with his ex and even though things were amiable in the morning, it’s a little awkward. He doesn’t know why he ends up asking about Daan, but it was natural to be curious right? He had just woken up in the man’s home. “Was it just me? Or did Daan seem annoyed with me this morning? Did you guys...talk about me last night? If it was an inconvenience having me over, I…”

Lukas snorts, which surprises Matthew, so he shuts up. “Oh God Matthew.” Lukas takes a breath. “Sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m not laughing at you, and I shouldn’t be scoffing at Daan, there’s nothing funny about his situation, I’m just...anyway. Look, Daan isn’t annoyed with you, at all actually. He’s going through a transition right now, so there will be days he’s annoyed with everyone, but mostly himself. There will be days he’s not himself at all. That being said, if he gives you shit, don’t take it. What he’s going through isn’t your fault.”

A wave of worry and concern washes through Matthew for his newest friend, but if Daan has chosen not to share what’s happening with him, well, he’s not going to pry. Something occurs to him and since there’s an oddly open atmosphere between them right now, and he can’t really help but wonder, so he decides to ask.

“Back when I thought they were dating, it’s just hit me right now that you didn’t question me, you accepted it right away as if them together was really believable?” It is rather striking, now that Matthew thinks about it, that Lukas had accepted that scenario. If he had known those two for most his life and thought it was realistic that Daan and Mathias were together, well Matthew couldn’t really be blamed for having the wrong idea either.

Lukas nods slowly with a rueful smile. “Yeah, silly me. Mathias and I only became a thing when I moved back to Canada - after he had already done so much for Emil and my family, but that didn’t mean that I never...liked him before you know? Stupid teenage crushes. But back then I was just a weird neighbour that he knew and was nice to. But he and Daan? They’ve always been very close. Mathias could convince Daan to do all kinds of reckless or stupid things. Anyway, trust me, I know what it’s like when Daan actually is annoyed with someone. He really isn’t annoyed with you. Don’t let him scare you. Besides, you have it in you to be far scarier than he could hope to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Wait, what?! Where did that come from?” Lukas grins and shakes his head. “Matthew, green light.”

“Oh, right! Thanks. You know that’s not going to spare you from that. How am I scary?! Especially compared to Daan, that guy has made people cry with just a glance! I would never do that!”

But Lukas only laughs. “Have you seen this crying thing? Or is it a rumour?”

“It’s! Well...it’s…hmmm.”

Lukas just smirks and shakes his head at some internal thought. “How long have you and Daan been friends by the way?”

Matthew feels a worm of nervousness squirm in his stomach and tries to ignore it. “Took me by surprise to be honest, but the day after we...had dinner, I nearly got run over by a car and Daan was the Partner who was around and made sure I went to see a doctor. We’ve been ...I guess you could say friends since, but it still feels...I dunno, making friends is different when you’re not in school.” He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that he never told Lukas about the stupid crush. Well it would be really stupid to bring it up now. What would be the point? “When he’s not being a Partner he’s not that hard to speak to.”

Lukas nods but Matthew can’t see his expression because he has to focus on driving. “That hasn’t been very long.”

“No. Which is why I felt kind of awkward last night, this morning, and all but…” He shrugs. “Everyone was so nice about it, so...thanks again. I mean it, I’m especially grateful, you made sure I was never too out of place for too long. Sometimes it can be kinda lonely when you’re sitting with a group of people who have known each other forever you know?”

Lukas shakes his head and simply says. “No. Thank you.”

It’s the worst meeting he has ever managed in a long time - remotely or in person. Michelle throws him a worried look from her desk and Matthew decides it’s better to hand the meeting over to her instead. She’s technically a manager now, even though she had started this project before that promotion. Anyway, isn’t this the benefit of having more than one manager? If one is having a no-good ‘I’m stupid’ day, there’s a backup? Michelle reads the look on his face and takes over seamlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew mutes his phone and lets out an exasperated sigh. He can’t leave the meeting, but he wishes he could.

Waking up in a different place, Arthur’s problems, his own weird life and weird morning...Daan seemed to be irritated with him, and when Lukas left the car he felt something a little off there too. Or maybe he was just tired, paranoid and anxious, or maybe Matthew just wasn’t good at having his routine messed with.

Michelle handles the meeting with aplomb, there’s not much that he has to do thank goodness, but he’s angry at himself because it’s basic and easy stuff! He spent years of effort into learning how to lead meetings! He had always known it was a potential weakness of his so he’d practice and practice and practice until the freezing nerves mostly became butterfly nerves, but today the freezing nerves had come back. He choked. No matter what sweet words Francis had for him, it appears that there was a good reason why he wasn’t promoted, and Francis could tell. Partners are their magic psychic voodoo when it came to assessing people, shit.

What good was Matthew? No wonder Daan was annoyed with him, no wonder he wasn’t promoted, no wonder Lukas-

“HEY!”

What the?? “Michelle you gave me heart attack!”

Michelle looks down at him in front of his cubicle with a knowing look. “No Matt.” She says softly. “You were doing that to yourself. Come on boss. Early lunch.”

“Wha?”

“Come on! We’ve barely caught up lately and I want to have lunch with you!”

Technically it wasn’t against the rules, if they ate lunch now that just meant packing food and eating it at their desks when they got hungry again since they were eating at an odd hour. Matthew just didn’t want to be irresponsible after this ridiculous two-hour long walkout the last week he was at work before almost getting hit by a car and getting sick. The time away was supposed to have reset everything, this week was supposed to be him returning to normal.

Michelle waves at Francis and points at the door, Matthew doesn’t look because he can’t bear to at that moment, he’s still too raw, and all too happy to let Michelle take the lead. Which she does. She whisks him out the doors into sunlight and fresh air. City people doing their things, even city birds were different from their non-urban cousins. Everyone and everything with a purpose. Except him.

Michelle asks him questions about what he prefers, but thinking is too much effort right now. Maybe he’s just too slow after the enforced holiday. That’s it. Thankfully, Michelle doesn’t point it out, and before long, he’s seated outdoors across from her at a cozy cafe. It’s nice he supposes, but he can’t wave away the guilt building within for making her worry in the first place, or making her take over his work.

“Matt.” Michelle sighs as she slides a cheerful looking rainbow colored cake towards him. “Remember last year when you rescued me?”

What? It must show on his face because Michelle gently reminds him. “Run of the mill, presentation to department heads, I knew all of them, I knew my work, I knew my own findings. Then I just couldn’t explain them. And the more I couldn’t explain, the more I talked, the more I talked, the less sense I made, the less sense I made, the worse it got. Then you stepped in. You have this power Matt, you calm everything and everyone down. You’ve always been able to do that, but it’s just gotten better over the years. Today was just my chance to repay you, at least once. I also remember you telling me afterwards that it happens to all of us.”

Matthew shakes his head and smiles at her kindness. Good ol’ Michelle. “Shell, you had just found out right before you were about to present that your father had been admitted to the hospital. Your family is an 18 hour flight away. We’re only human, of course under such pressure we all need a little help from time to time.”

“Exactly! So...Let me help you! Are you okay to share what happened to you this morning? You came in kinda...out of sorts.”

Matthew can’t help how hot is face is getting, he can only imagine how red he looks right now.

“Oh. My. God! You got laid!”

“What?! No! N-” Matthew whips his head around. Yes it’s not exactly peak hour but there’s still people around damnit! “No, I didn’t get laid!” He whispers urgently, but he doesn’t know if his whisper is actually soft. “How could you-No!”

“Oh Mattie, is that why you’re upset? You didn’t get laid?” Michelle laughs

“NO! What?? Why would I?? No I didn’t-”

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! Still, that flush is the same flush you used to have over Mr. 7th Floor. I’ve kinda missed seeing it.”

Matthew throws his hands up in the air. Fucking Mr 7th Floor. This is never going away. “Okay I’m not in the mood to put up with the teasing that is the fucking 7th floor. But who I am ready to talk about is Arthur.”

“Arthur?!”

“Yeah.”

And that was how “Project: RESCUE KING LEAR” was born. Why? Because it was Arthur, and as long as they were dealing with him, they were going to use his ridiculous naming conventions.

Perhaps, sensing his raw mood, Michelle decided to stay by his side for the rest of the day. By the end of the day, she also did something else that was magnificent - she took a load off his shoulders.

From: [email protected]

To: <[email protected]>

Subject: PARTY KING LEAR

Okay everyone here’s the deal - Arthur may have left us for greener and noisier pastures but he still started with us and he’s gotten the big promotion. So...just to be clear, I’M PLANNING THE PARTAY!

There will be kiddies, so no alcohol but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna remind Arthur that we’re better than any of those 7th floor loudspeakers (we’re hotter too ;) ;) )!

Keep your evenings clear - you’re all getting instructions from me soon.

It’s quiet and dark out when Matthew finishes up for the day. He only found his focus and stride halfway through the afternoon so he decided to stay to get caught up on everything. It was easier after everyone left - as much as he liked them, it was peaceful. He didn’t want to bring work home anymore.

Matthew isn’t the last person out of the building. There are other stragglers on his floor, but his team is tucked in a corner, so Matthew feels comfortable and left alone with himself. He stretches and yawns without care because no one is looking, making sure that he feels and hears the pops and little cracks in his back as he does so.

“Ugh...that feels good.” He’s been too fucking stiff lately. Matthew places his feet up on his desk and stares at the ceiling unseeing for a while. It doesn’t hurt to breathe a little and close his mind off from work before driving home. Of course, it’s at the very point that he feels the most comfortable that his stomach growls. Of course.

Matthew lets out a sigh. He doesn’t feel like cooking, and he’s a little too hungry to wait for takeout. He would prefer to just go home. Looked like it was going to be a vending machine dinner once he actually got the energy to -

“You’re not actually supposed to sleep here you know.”

What? Matthew reluctantly turns his head away from the white ceiling and - oh fuck. “What are you doing -” He knocks some books off his desk as he tries to get his feet off it - shit “here?” Smooth Matt. Real smooth. He sighs and doesn’t bother picking them up, he’ll do that after. Instead he looks up.

Daan looks tired. “You look tired.” Well it’s 9pm and the man is still in the office as well, so of course he is. “Well, it’s-uh...nevermind.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

Matthew really can’t be surprised by the awkward silence that followed. He’s awake enough to be grateful that the second time Daan turns up at his desk is when none of his colleagues are around. That puts a smile on his face.

Somehow, Daan is smiling now too. Objectively speaking, tired Daan smiling is a good look. It’s not like he’s grinning like a fiend or anything, it’s just that with his eyes a little bleary and the corners of his lips have moved up, it’s enough to just soften him a little.

“Anyway, what brings you down here? Well, up here?” Matthew finally lets out.

Daan shrugs. “I saw your status online, still logged into work. Realized you didn’t sleep well this morning, so if you were in, I thought I’d deliver some goods.” He says as he lifts both hands.  

It’s just two plain paper bags but damn, Matthew can smell the goodness from where he is. “How? Where?”

“Ordered delivery. For a couple of months now, I’ve made sure I order extra to make sure that Emil eats dinner too. Well he’s not working late today, so I figure. my mattress sucks or I need to tell my brother to shower more often. You did not look like a guy who slept well this morning.”

That makes Matthew laugh too much, he doesn’t know why. “Oh my God, don’t. The bed smelled fine, the sheets were nice. The mattress was firm, there was nothing wrong with your hospitality. Hell you even fed me, I haven’t been so pampered, ever! Stop being so nice, I’m alive, I’m thriving. But thanks.”

“So you don’t want-”

“Fuck yes, give me the food! ...please. I was just about to go home anyway. You  need a ride? Or are you going to cycle back? If not, I drive a pickup, your bike will fit in the back.”

Daan seems to chuckle as he rolls over a chair, picks up Matthew’s books, and settles down. “I shouldn’t cycle back when I’m this tired. Anyway, I’m not done yet, I actually have to get more shit down after this, need input from Japan, but I’ll call an Uber home. My bike is safely standing in my allocated parking spot. Everyone knows it’s my bike. No one fucks with it even when I leave it overnight. If they fuck with it-”

“Okay I get it. So your bicycle gets its own parking spot. My pickup is jealous.” Figures - Matthew can just imagine that orange bicycle proudly standing between Porsches and BMWs.

Daan looks up with mock disappointment. “Matthew really. You’re not going to let me boast about what happens to anyone who fucks with my bike?”

“Dude I’m hungry.” He was about to say ‘and I’m tired’ but it wasn’t quite as true now as it was just a few moments ago.

Daan shoves the bag over, shaking his head. “Eat up then. Even the young’uns aren’t here. So it’s just us old fogies.” He says, as he tears open his own paper bag.

“You’re eating at my desk?!”

Daan is trying his hardest not to grin now and barely manages to shrug. “What, did you think I was going to mess up my desk?”

“I can’t believe you.” Matthew rolls his chair over to hit Daan’s in revenge - what good are wheels for if you can’t use them for a little bumper chairs once in a while?

“Hey! Do you want a clean desk or not?!”

Matthew has to turn away because he’s grinning too hard. “You’re cleaning up my desk if it gets messed up-”

“What?”

“I swear, because you’re the one who-”

“That’s a great ‘thank you’ for bringing you food. Holy fuck Matthew Williams, after everyone said you’re the ‘epitome of what a gentleman is.’ I’m surprised.”

He shouldn’t be laughing this hard. “Excuse me you’re giving me Emil’s leftovers! Fine, I’ll go easy on you. But you need to tell me what people say about me in return. And that...was so totally Arthur omg. What else do they say?”