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tenshinoakuma) wrote2007-09-10 06:54 pm
tenshinoakuma) wrote2007-09-10 06:54 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic] Secrets
Title is the prompt, Trian/Tyler POV
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Kind of realised Tyler has no concept of age, and how people get all wrinkly and stuff when they get old. It's not like Trian and Tyler get noticeably old.
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"You never change, do you, boy?"
Tyler paused, knowing the comment was directed at him but not quite recognising the voice -- though there was something familiar about it. He didn't reply, patiently waiting for whoever it was to explain himself; and the stranger was a him. After a long moment, there was a weary sigh, and he could hear the exhale of smoke.
"To think you would forget your own teacher. But then, it's been sixty years." There was a slap of a hand against a wooden bench. "Sit down for a moment, will you?"
Tyler did so, slowly easing himself into the bench-seat, the metal rod he used to pick his way all over the streets of Yuno half-dangling from his lax fingers. They sat in silence, Tyler leaning forward to rest his arms across his knees, and the other quietly smoking, probably from a pipe. Tyler could smell the graininess of the cheap tobacco, the kind of stink that clung stubbornly to the insides of his throat and nostrils.
"I've seen you with that brother of yours," slowly said the other, "heard the rumours too. Have you taught him everything I taught yo-"
"It's illegal," Tyler cut in, a frown crossing his face. It was hidden by his blindfold.
"Or is it?" Tyler could almost feel the smirk on the other man's face. "It's not a crime if you're not of blood."
"Don't try to convince me otherwise." He didn't mean it, but a hint of disapproval crept into his tone.
"My feelings are hurt." There was a long pause, punctuated by the slow exhale of smoke. "Do you hate us for it?"
Tyler let a small smile crawl across his face. He knew what they had done to him was wrong, he knew other people had expected him to be angry, hurt, depressed vengeful hatefulmistrustfulscared, they assumed he would be. But he hadn't been, wasn't. It was just something that had happened. He didn't hate them. He moved on.
"I forgave both of you long ago."
"That's good to hear." Tyler felt a strangely gnarled hand on his -- full of creases, odd, because he remembered that the other was never like that -- and felt the burn of ashes against his forearm, and he moved to brush them away. The other man's voice was low and secretive as he whispered in his ear, hot breath against his neck. "Do you want to do it again, for old times' sake?"
Tyler gently but firmly pushed the other man away, feeling knobbly bones underneath clothing and flesh -- but they were so unlike Trian -- and so unlike how he remembered the man to be. Tyler rose from his seat and turned to leave.
"Do they know know what happened? Does he know?"
He paused. "No. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Fair enough." Tyler could hear the long suck on the pipe, and the slow exhale, and sat back down beside the other man.
They spent the next two hours in thoughtful silence.
Tyler paused, knowing the comment was directed at him but not quite recognising the voice -- though there was something familiar about it. He didn't reply, patiently waiting for whoever it was to explain himself; and the stranger was a him. After a long moment, there was a weary sigh, and he could hear the exhale of smoke.
"To think you would forget your own teacher. But then, it's been sixty years." There was a slap of a hand against a wooden bench. "Sit down for a moment, will you?"
Tyler did so, slowly easing himself into the bench-seat, the metal rod he used to pick his way all over the streets of Yuno half-dangling from his lax fingers. They sat in silence, Tyler leaning forward to rest his arms across his knees, and the other quietly smoking, probably from a pipe. Tyler could smell the graininess of the cheap tobacco, the kind of stink that clung stubbornly to the insides of his throat and nostrils.
"I've seen you with that brother of yours," slowly said the other, "heard the rumours too. Have you taught him everything I taught yo-"
"It's illegal," Tyler cut in, a frown crossing his face. It was hidden by his blindfold.
"Or is it?" Tyler could almost feel the smirk on the other man's face. "It's not a crime if you're not of blood."
"Don't try to convince me otherwise." He didn't mean it, but a hint of disapproval crept into his tone.
"My feelings are hurt." There was a long pause, punctuated by the slow exhale of smoke. "Do you hate us for it?"
Tyler let a small smile crawl across his face. He knew what they had done to him was wrong, he knew other people had expected him to be angry, hurt, depressed vengeful hatefulmistrustfulscared, they assumed he would be. But he hadn't been, wasn't. It was just something that had happened. He didn't hate them. He moved on.
"I forgave both of you long ago."
"That's good to hear." Tyler felt a strangely gnarled hand on his -- full of creases, odd, because he remembered that the other was never like that -- and felt the burn of ashes against his forearm, and he moved to brush them away. The other man's voice was low and secretive as he whispered in his ear, hot breath against his neck. "Do you want to do it again, for old times' sake?"
Tyler gently but firmly pushed the other man away, feeling knobbly bones underneath clothing and flesh -- but they were so unlike Trian -- and so unlike how he remembered the man to be. Tyler rose from his seat and turned to leave.
"Do they know know what happened? Does he know?"
He paused. "No. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Fair enough." Tyler could hear the long suck on the pipe, and the slow exhale, and sat back down beside the other man.
They spent the next two hours in thoughtful silence.
--
Kind of realised Tyler has no concept of age, and how people get all wrinkly and stuff when they get old. It's not like Trian and Tyler get noticeably old.