Feeling caged by the conversation had caused Leo to do what they were accustomed to, running away from their problems. Though it typically came in snarky remarks during counseling sessions, defensiveness, and most commonly humor, this time Leo had felt a physical need to be removed from Soren and Uncle Phin’s heavy attentions. They felt dirty, icky, and itchy not only from the thought that what they’d convinced themself for years could be wrong, but that they had instigated riffs with two of their favorite people on Earth. They weren’t sure if they wanted to be followed, they didn’t expect it, usually being left to calm down after what might be categorized as a ‘temper tantrum’. As they struggled to find balance on their bike, too mentally flushed to tap into muscle memory from the day prior, they feared what they had usually flaunted: genetics.
Being a Thorfinn filled Leo with a sense of pride. They couldn’t imagine a single person meeting Uncle Phin and not thinking he was one of the bestest guys out there, nor meeting their father and not thinking he was cool and filled with wonder. Octavius was a library decked to the ceiling with stories, the kind of library that lets you talk as loudly as you please, one with an echo that offers the illusion of conversation. He had traveled to countries Leo couldn’t pronounce and cities they still weren’t sure actually existed, even after countless hours tracing their finger around an iridescent globe, wondering if they were so obscure not even modernity could locate them. Genetically, Leo had always hoped to be like their father, happy and free with skin the walls of a library, but one with an intercom instead of an echo. What they feared now was that they had gained the worst traits of both of their parents, the instinct to run.
The faster they rode the harder the wind hit them on the way up, a physical force to push back any lingering thoughts and a good reason to blame the irritation in their eyes on. By the time they reached a green enough side of the grass, they were out of breath. In their usual fashion the bike fell clumsily behind them, rusted metal hugged by the tall uncut blades, and Leo sat cross-legged for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only ten minutes or so. The sound of crunching grass disrupted their stillness, turning to look behind them and lingering for a few quiet seconds before facing forward again. Their head fell just enough to keep their eyes low, only seeing the rubber soles of Soren’s shoes as he sat across from them. Leo didn’t feel the need to defend themself, to start a riot before Soren could speak, they didn’t want to. Fighting with someone you love was exhausting and they wondered how adults did it all the time.
Eyes fixed on Soren pulling the grass and it seems once again they’ve swapped temperaments, Leo’s hands strictly resting on their scabbed knees. Soren’s admission instantly drew Leo’s eyes, shooting up without moving their head, and they stayed fixated on his face as he spoke. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Their voice small, knowing how Soren bringing up their father made them feel and not wanting to have struck the same nerve in their friend but apparently doing it anyway. Their gaze slowly lowered as Soren continued, unable to look at him and think critically at the same time. Trying to absorb his monologue all at once was difficult, eyes reading the grass around them like a cheat sheet. Where they once found it impossible to address their own issues, hearing Soren put it into his own situation and trying to understand that in this way they understood each other, only meant Leo had to recognize their issues were the same.
If Soren missed his father, Leo missed their father. If Soren felt a temporary excitement at the slightest inch of effort from Malekai, then Leo felt the same with Octavius. Hearing Soren explain his situation only gave words to their own. Looking at their own reflection couldn’t clear their path the way looking at Soren’s reflection seemed to, Leo more themself in him than even their own body. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” A quiet, soft voice that felt the way Leo imagines the wind feels to the grass, like a whisper that’s nostalgic before it’s even finished passing through. Swallowing down potential tears, they finally looked up at Soren for some kind of relief, their best friend always having this inexplicable power to steady them.
“Why doesn’t he want to be around me?” Leo assumed there must be something more exciting and powerful and lovable out there in the world that Octavius was on a never ending search for. Sometimes they wished they could remember what made their mother so special but then they do, and then it made sense, and they hated when it made sense. “I do everything right, I do, I try. And I know that he…but he just…” Leo struggled to find the wording, unable to reroute the part of their brain that idolized their father. “He’s the best person in the world but sometimes he really sucks.” They rubbed the back of their hand against their cheek aggressively, hoping to erase any evidence of tears.
They sat quiet for a few beats, a heavy exhale finally relieving some of the pressure in their chest. They didn’t understand what’s up with Malekai, why Soren felt the way he felt since they had such different upbringings and his family seemed picture perfect upon arrival. All they could make out was that Malekai was always around and still never around. “No offense,” their voice hadn’t held an ounce of surety until now, even if still hushed “Your dad sounds kind of dumb.” They sniffled, back slumped. “He gets to spend all that time with you and doesn’t appreciate it.” Leo thought maybe, just maybe, if Octavius spent a little more time with them then he would see what he was missing. They can’t imagine someone, Malekai, seeing what he’s missing every day and not wanting to be around Soren persistently.
Each of his facial muscles, tensed from the moment he rose that morning, relaxed inexplicably to hear that Leo hadn’t meant to attack him so directly. He didn’t even care to ask how exactly Leo had meant it, if not to poke holes into his fragile charade of adulthood. Just to know Leo hadn’t lashed out to him in such a low blow was enough. He was tempted to tilt his chin, crane it lower to try and hold Leo’s eyes even as they fell but he decided to bite back the craving for now. They would have plenty of time to sit close and memorize each other once this was all over with- he had to believe they would.
Though he had never experienced a romantic heartbreak before, Soren was no stranger to the overall feeling, able to recognize it instantly creep up his sternum and seize his chest with heat upon Leo’s frail admission. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Words he could have sworn he’d spoken himself to his therapist, to his mother, to any sturdy adult at all who would listen, on countless occasions. It was a desperate, desolate sensation and he had meant it when he said it was one thing for him to feel such a thing but an entirely different thing for his closest friend in the world to experience the same. He was angrier about one than the other and he was alright with that.
Soren hadn’t realized how deeply furrowed his brows had grown until Leo looked back to him a touch glossier than they had been a moment ago. He was struck for a moment, having to remember which body he belonged to as he confused Leo’s expression for his own. Logically, he knew there was no way for him to replicate inside himself the exact same feeling that Leo housed, but he found logic hard to believe at the moment. Why doesn’t he want to be around me? The words hammered down on Soren’s surety; if it wasn’t possible to be the same person and feel the same things, then they were whatever came next, beside one another when everyone else only fathomed how to be ten feet behind.
“I don’t know, Leo,” Soren found himself speaking without his own permission. He licked his lips in confusion for a second as to how that happened, though he wouldn’t take it back. Now it was his eyes that were lowered, glued to Leo’s hands still gripping at their knees. They were dirty and sweaty and coarse, just how Soren recognized them best and he lifted his own cautiously. The two most hurtful things to happen to him as of late were the perceived accusation that he was projecting his issues with his own father onto Leo and Octavius’s relationship, and Leo’s abrupt yanking away of their hand when all Soren wanted was to feel togetherness between them. Turned out, one of those things was just a misconception, easily dispelled, so it was easy to go out on a limb now, hoping the other was too.
Soren’s fingers pried between Leo’s and their knee, one at a time, slipping in until he could press his palm to their knuckles. “I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t wanna be around you. I don’t know what out there could be better. I- well, I can’t think of anything. But even if I could... you’re more important anyway.” He took a deep breath, unsure that he was making any sense amid the heaviness that was settling in his lungs to speak so candidly in ways he wasn’t sure Leo would accept from him.
“Sometimes it’s not about us. I think...I think I’m doing the absolute best I can with my dad and there’s still just something…” Soren shook his head slightly, emphasizing his own utter lack of understanding. “Something invisible that holds him back and I’m not responsible for that thing. I know I’m not. That thing’s been bothering him since before I was even around. Renee tells me so. And I think maybe it’s the same with your dad. I think you’re doing everything right too. But maybe it’s not about us. I know it doesn’t sound very fair out loud but...it makes more sense than it being your fault.” Soren sounded adamant about that last part and to hear Leo at long last say a single negative word about Octavius, be it still in somewhat gentle words, was a weight off his chest. He squeezed Leo’s hand once before peeling them off their knee and bringing both their hands to rest on the grass instead.
Soren couldn’t help the small laugh that sputtered out of him at the bold-faced insult to his father. From where they rested, curled in the space between Leo’s thumb and index finger, Soren’s fingers clutched slightly, needing to plant himself somewhere as not to get carried away. With such a juvenile description slapped onto the face of his austere father, there was no choice but to laugh; Leo often robbed him of all other choices. “Maybe,” Soren chuckled quietly, blue eyes touched with sunlight as they met Leo’s again. “But anyone who doesn’t take the time to do this kind of stuff,” he gave their hands a little wiggle as his gaze panned all around them, “with you is dumb too.”
