Create your blorbo at the beginning of their saga vs at the end
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Darius on top, Tristan on the bottom, both from my whump fic We Are TroubleD!
I decided I wanted to do the beginning, the middle, and the end, because I'm a sucker for comfort and if the boys aren't mostly okay and able to crack at least a small smile in the end then I'll be devastated.
Tagging: @3-2-whump, @brainrotlesbian, @befuddled-calico-whump, and whoever else wants to do it (no pressure at all; just for fun!)
🎬 &🧣 for Darius and Tristan, if they're whumped together they should also be comforted together
From this game
We Are TroubleD – Extras (ask game edition!) – “Bittersweet Chocolate” (Pre-Capture)
Comfort my characters ask game! | "We Are TroubleD" Masterpost
Prompts:
🎬 An uninterrupted movie night
🧣 – A fluffy blanket
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Content warnings: Crying, emotional whump, fear of a loved one getting sicker, fear of memory loss due to an illness, long-term illness, loss of control of a vehicle due to weather (mentioned, not shown), mystery illness, sick loved one (parent)
Holy Hell it was cold outside. Well, okay, it was the opposite of Hell. Hell would be warm. Maybe Darius would’ve preferred Hell.
His teeth were chattering when he entered the apartment, his nose as bright red and windblown as Rudolph the reindeer. With a shudder, he kicked off his boots and brushed away the snow that decorated his hair and coat.
“It’s getting nasty out there.” he reported, unwinding his scarf and draping it over a hook on the coat rack. “I just made it out of the parking lot before I saw someone sliding in my rearview mirror. They haven’t treated the roads yet.”
A pajama-clad Tristan stepped out of the kitchen to greet him, his face a mixture of concerned judgement and relieved amusement. At least Darius had made it home safely.
“Was it worth it?” he asked, watching as his friend briskly rubbed his hands together to warm them up. “Risking your life to get some marshmallows?”
Darius smirked, then victoriously pulled the bag of fluffy treats from his tote and held them aloft for Tristan to see.
“Absolutely. Again, you can’t just tell me we’re having a hot chocolate night and then not have marshmallows. Come on Tris, that’s sacrilege.”
It had been an honest mistake. Tristan had gotten the idea for a hot chocolate bar from a video he saw online and became obsessed with the concept. During an excited trip to the grocery store for supplies, he found himself so caught up in grabbing fancy fixings for the drinks that he completely forgot about perhaps the most simple and obvious one of all- the marshmallows. In his defense though, that hadn’t fully been his fault. He swore they had a half-full bag at home, but apparently Darius had been snacking.
Darius tossed the marshmallow bag onto the countertop, where it landed with a ‘fwhumph’.
“Yeah, okay, fine… Maybe it was a little stupid to go out there.” he admitted. “Even my car had trouble in the snow.” He stated the observation with such confidence, as if he expected his luxury car designed for city driving to operate like a rugged off-roading vehicle. Still, it was scary to have shaky control over anything in bad weather.
“I’m just glad to be home. Let’s hunker down for a while.”
Tristan peered around him curiously, eyeing a decently sized package that Darius had plopped on the floor on his way in.
“What’s that?” he asked. “You order something?”
Darius’ eyes flashed in realization. “Oh, no, that’s for you. It was waiting outside. Lucky the mailman was still able to deliver it.” he hefted the brown cardboard box up onto the breakfast table and Tristan wandered over. When he read the return address on the label, he cocked his head to the side.
“It’s from my mom and aunt.” he said softly. “Why didn’t they just wait to give this to me in person? I’m going over there next week…” It really didn’t make sense; they lived in the same town. There was no need to waste the postage.
Tristan turned to search for a pair of scissors to cut the box open, but Darius was on top of it. He pulled a pocketknife from his black jeans and sliced through the packing tape like it was nothing. Tristan nodded in appreciation, then lifted the flaps and pulled out a handwritten letter.
Hey kiddo,
I hope school’s going well. We thought we’d send a care package your way to help you get through the winter blues. Yes, it’s silly, but it feels more special when it arrives through the mail, doesn’t it?
Your mom spent months on these but raced to finish them when she saw that it was going to snow. One’s for you and the other’s for Darius. Give him our hellos.
I know life’s been tough recently, but you’ve been a real trooper. Keep your head up, even during the dark days when it feels like the light will never return. Believe in yourself. You’re a strong, capable, smart young man, and you’ll do great things. Remember, everything shall eventually come to pass, and one day the sun will shine again.
We’re proud of you, Tristan. All of us. You’re always in our thoughts and in our hearts. Your family loves you. Don’t ever forget that.
Phew! Maybe that was a little too serious, but it’s always a good reminder!
Please hurry to come see us again! At the time of writing this, you just stepped out the door from your most recent visit, but already your mother is asking when you’re coming back. Honestly, it’s only been five minutes!
Good luck with classes. See you soon.
All our love,
- Aunt Brenda and Mom
The letter alone was enough to make Tristan emotional. To have a whole care package attached to it as well… God that was thoughtful. What nice surprise! Such a thing wasn’t typical for his family, especially so late into his college career. Things had been tight financially for years, so for them to be able to get him anything outside of a holiday or birthday made for an extra special treat. He was happy to be thought of at all, really.
A decently sized collection of items sat in the box, and Tristan started by reaching for the food: There were several bags of microwavable popcorn, an assortment of his favorite candies, and a small envelope containing two gift cards - one to the pizzeria by their apartment and one to the local coffee shop that he frequented. Next came what looked to be wellness supplies: Packets of orange flavored vitamin c drink powder, hand sanitizer, a tube of lip balm, and a bottle of hand cream. Finally, he pulled out one last gift: a small Lego set. It was nothing particular, just a box full of bricks so he could let his imagination run wild and build whatever he wanted.
Tristan’s insides felt mushy as he looked at it all. How did he get to be so lucky? It was a simple, yet thoughtful care package and he was so thankful for it. His family wanted him to stay happy and healthy, and sentiments like that meant so much. He couldn’t wait to enjoy everything that they had sent him.
However, that wasn’t the end of it. Something larger sat at the bottom of the parcel, covered by a strip of kraft paper. Gingerly he lifted the dividing sheet and gasped at what he found beneath it.
“What?! Oh my God— she didn’t!” Suddenly Aunt Brenda’s note made sense. ‘Your mom spent months on these but raced to finish them when she saw that it was going to snow.’
Neatly folded in the box were two crocheted blankets. Tristan stood stunned for a moment before he carefully lifted the first one out. It was long and weighty, made up of soft black yarn patterned into granny squares that centered elegant, maroon roses. It must have taken ages to make. A handwritten tag was safety pinned to the corner that read “Darius” on it. The goth looked equally as taken aback when Tristan handed the bundle to him.
“Wait, this is for me?” Darius asked in disbelief. Reverently, he held the blanket in his hands and ran his fingers over the velvety material. It was stunning.
“Yeah. Mom made it.” Tristan’s voice was quavering. He was trying not to break down right then and there but seeing the level of care and craftsmanship in the present was making it hard not to. Such a piece would be an incredible gift coming from anyone, but to come from Tristan’s mom specifically… that was something miraculous. What an immense undertaking to make one blanket… but two? It was no easy feat for her.
Tristan’s mother had been crocheting her whole life, long before she got sick and needed to be looked after. Her health journey had been a rollercoaster, and sadly it often felt like their family was left with more questions than answers from the doctors. There were times when it was hard for her to do much of anything – to sit up, to speak, to express herself in any way. Like with many diseases, she had her good days and her bad ones, but through it all she kept crocheting, trying to keep her mind sharp and her hands busy.
It was her one constant, even on the days when she found it difficult to get out of bed.
Even on the days when all she could do was communicate through a smile rather than through words.
Even on the days when Tristan could tell that she was trying to hide her pain and keep up a brave face for the duration of his visit.
Even on the days when Tristan spiraled and worried that things could get worse. What if one day she wasn’t able to recognize him anymore?
Despite it all, she kept up her craft.
Tristan lifted the second blanket from the box – the yarn was a gorgeous flow of different shades of blue, teal, and seafoam green. All his favorite colors. Occasional white streaks broke up the gradient, making him realize that the pattern was meant to be waves of the ocean. The bottom was a sandy color, where the water met the shore.
He stared at the object, mystified and moved as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears. Silently he wrapped it around himself and hugged it against his form. It smelled like her. Milk and honey. A light, gentle scent. Familiar. Calming.
His eyes slipped shut and he exhaled wet and shakily.
“Mom…” was all he could manage to whisper.
Darius gave him a knowing and sympathetic look.
“These are beautiful.” he said, and Tristan nodded, snuggling into his blanket as meaningfully as if he was embracing his mother in person. Light glittered off the tears clinging to his lashes.
Tristan buried his face in the cover, trying and failing to get a grip on himself. He knew he didn’t have to hide his emotions, but all the same he wanted a moment to process them privately. Thankfully there was no need to say anything or to try to excuse it. Darius knew and understood. He had been there through years of tests, treatments, ups, and downs in Tristan’s family. He too realized the amount of work that Tristan’s mom had put into the treasures that they now held in their hands. Darius would be lying if he said he wasn’t also deeply touched by it.
As he stroked his blanket, Tristan’s fingers brushed against something poking up off the surface. Curiously he pulled it back a bit to see what the shape was.
A crocheted starfish sat in the sand. A little purple starfish. His parents’ nickname for him when he was a kid.
In elementary school a much younger Tristan had gotten obsessed with space. He had gone all in, visiting the planetarium, getting a backyard telescope, building model space shuttles, and even choking down novelty packets of dehydrated ice cream so he “could eat like the astronauts do”. There were glow in the dark stars on his bedroom ceiling, mobiles of the solar system hanging above his desk, star charts on his wall…
That was why he found a particular sea creature so fascinating when they vacationed on the coast one year. His family had stopped into a marine lab and visitor’s center at the beach, and while his parents were busy getting information about the area, Tristan had become engrossed with an aquarium tank displaying some of the local sea life. Kid Tristan lost his mind with excitement when he discovered a specific echinoderm.
“Mom! Dad! You’ll never believe this! There’s a fish over here that’s shaped like a star! A starfish! A star fish!” to him, that was the coolest thing ever, even after one of the researchers had to break it to him that the animals weren’t from the cosmos.
Like most things Tristan found intriguing, he wanted to learn all about them and wound up not only getting a book from the gift shop, but a color-changing mood necklace featuring a sea star as well. Most of the trip the thing stayed purple, which, according to the slip of paper that came with the jewelry, meant that he was happy. It was right; he was.
Because of his new accessory, his parents joked that he had become their little purple starfish. Tristan didn’t mind and gladly wore the necklace for ages until eventually his next special interest grabbed hold of him and took over. The nickname stuck, however, even after the souvenir had found its way into a drawer somewhere in Tristan’s room.
Tristan’s hand once again drifted over the crocheted embellishment as he recalled the memory. Their starfish. Their little purple starfish…
That was when he finally broke. His face screwed up and he fully pulled the blanket over his head, noiselessly loosing a few tears. Despite what she was going through, his mom still cared so much and had worked so hard on this gift for him. For both of them. Even in her state, all she wanted to do was to keep her son and his best friend safe and warm, to let them know that they were loved.
Darius reached out a hand and lightly placed it on Tristan’s arm as a quiet reminder that he was there for support, even when words failed him. After a moment he retreated and wrapped his own blanket around himself, breathing out a content sigh at feeling of the plush material against his cold skin. God did that feel comforting after being out in the snow.
Tristan sniffled, taking a moment to collect himself before he slipped the cover back down around his shoulders.
“S-sorry.”
How absurd, he didn’t need to apologize for anything, especially given the circumstances.
“I'll tell her thank you..." he uttered, wiping away his tears. With quaking breath, Tristan peered over to the clock on the oven, then made a move toward the kitchen. "Ah, but let’s get to the hot chocolate bar before it gets any later. If we wait too much longer to start the movie then it’ll be too late tonight.”
He didn’t want to talk about things further. Not right now at least. That was fine.
Darius assessed his friend delicately, but his concern dissipated when Tristan’s smile —though wobbly and fragile— returned. Sporting his new flowery blanket cape, Darius followed Tristan, willing to carry on with the night like normal if that’s what he wanted. Whatever Tristan needed to do to cope with those heavy emotions for the time being.
“So, what do we have here?” Darius questioned. His eyes widened in wonder as he scanned the grandiose selection of toppings and mix-ins that lined the counter. Tristan had carefully laid out a myriad of treats and flavor enhancers in ramekins and on a charcuterie board.
He had gone overboard, really. There was far too much spread out before them. Some of the options included caramels, sprinkles (both rainbow and chocolate), cinnamon, raspberries, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, strawberry sauce, toasted coconut, peppermint, white chocolate chips, and crushed up pretzels. Tristan had even considered snacks to dunk into the drinks – pirouettes and shortbread cookies. Oh, and the marshmallows that Darius had run out to get, of course. Couldn’t forget those.
If they consumed even half of what was on the counter, they’d both probably slip into sweet, sugary comas, if their blood didn’t turn into pure sucrose or chocolate first.
Darius huffed out an amused laugh.
“Holy crap... You do know we’re just two people, right?”
Tristan flicked on the stove and pulled out a saucepan, prepping to warm up whatever drink combination Darius chose.
“Of course.” he said. “This is just a test run. We can have the rest of the gang over next week for an actual party if you want.”
That sounded like a good idea… A much healthier one, too. Darius poured over his choices and got to work on his chocolatey concoction.
***
Damn Tristan could make a good cup of hot chocolate. Sure, part of the incredible flavor came from the ingredients they each had meticulously picked out for themselves, but combining them into a smooth drink so masterfully? That was a talent. No, an art.
The movie had started- “Willow”, a fantasy flick from the 80’s. Darius had argued for “Labyrinth”, but Tristan rightfully said that’d be more fun to watch with their friends. They could all sing along together that way.
Both boys sat on the living room couch enjoying their hot chocolate creations, with every sip seeming to warm their bodies and souls. Outside the window snow continued to gently fall, and with luck maybe the next day’s obligations would be cancelled. It would be great to simply relax and have a full day at home.
Throughout the movie, Tristan remained warmly tucked under his dreamy ocean wave blanket. He looked so calm and at ease there, a longing yet blissful look playing on his features. When his hands weren’t cradling his mug, he unconsciously drifted up to run his fingers over the starfish, positioned right over his heart.
Nights like this were so peaceful and meaningful... a way to appreciate little joys. Together the friends were cozy and content, and for the moment, life was good.
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Tag list: @risahraun, @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @generic-whumperz, @morning-star-whump
Wanna be added to the tag list for ask game responses and other extras outside of the main story chapters? Please let me know here!
Darius stood frozen in the school hallway, staring down in disbelief at the grade on his math test. D. A fucking D. His chest tightened, and for a second he forgot to breathe.
“Dair? What’s wrong?” he must have looked stricken, because Tristan’s voice was concerned as he approached him. He was fresh out of his own, more advanced class.
With difficulty, Darius tore his gaze away from the endless red marks littering the sheet. He was about as pale as the rest of the paper he was holding when he finally regarded his friend.
“Failed.” he managed, his voice small and hollow.
“Oh...” Curiously, Tristan leaned over his shoulder and peered at the letter, then cringed. It wasn’t an actual F, but for all intents and purposes… “Oh, ouch. That sucks. I’m so sorry dude…”
Darius was shellshocked. He didn’t say a word as the two walked toward the campus parking garage, ready to head home for the evening. The silence was awkward. Tristan had been in a decently fine mood up until then, but seeing Darius in such a state instantly bummed him out, too.
They got to Darius’ car and sat down, but Darius wasn’t ready to leave. He gripped the steering wheel and stared blankly ahead, festering in his misery for another minute or two before finally speaking.
“Dad’s gonna kill me.”
Tristan shifted in his seat. “It’s one bad mark. Surely, he understands that not every test is going to be an A or B?”
But the words didn’t seem to ease Darius. His brown eyes were glossier than normal.
“He’s the fucking president of the college. If I fail a class, it reflects badly on him.” his mouth fell open slightly as he sucked in an unsteady breath.
“… Everything I do fucking reflects badly on him.”
Oh, oh no. Oh shit. Darius’ voice had gotten all wobbly and wet. Sure enough, tears were pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over his dark eyeliner. Tristan leaned over the center console to comfort him.
“Hey, hey. Dair, come on man, that’s not true.”
Too late. Darius lowered his head, letting out a tight little squeak as a curtain of his hair fell over his face.
“I’m such a fuck up.” he mumbled, and his body began to twitch, accompanying tiny little heaving sobs.
“Dair, stop. Don’t say that. You’re not a fuck up.”
The goth buried his face in his hands, trying to swallow his cries, though he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He was embarrassed and didn’t want Tristan to worry. All the same, Tristan did.
Cautiously Tristan reached out a hand and patted Darius’ arm.
“It’ll be alright…”
Darius wept and shook his head. “It’s been like this all semester. I’ve n-never been good at math and now it’s too late to recover a-and…” briefly he resurfaced for air, inhaling deeply. When he turned to Tristan, his normally gorgeous face was puffy and pained.
Tristan’s expression was soft, his voice gentle, but it held a tinge of hurt.
“You should have asked me to help you if you were having trouble. I could have tutored you or something. Why didn’t you come to me?” It was a perfectly reasonable question to ask. Tristan was a freaking computer science major after all. Calculations and numbers were second nature to him, and it’s not like that was a secret.
Darius cut his gaze away.
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You never bother me.”
There was a beat of silence, and Darius huffed.
“That’s not what you said last Sunday.”
It took a second for Tristan to understand what he meant. He furrowed his brow, confused. Last Sunday? What did that have to do with—
Oh my God… really?
Tristan scoffed. “Are you serious right now?”
He had been making a complicated dinner for them that night – multiple dishes at once that required various levels of prep, cooking times, and measurements. It was a lot to juggle, but he wanted to try something new. Tristan felt like he could handle it…
… That was, until Darius began to inundate him with questions. It started innocently enough- Darius was stuck on a video game that Tristan had convinced him to play: “Breath of the Wild”, Darius’ first Zelda game. Tristan supposed that he had brought the barrage upon himself by introducing him to it; Darius had never been super familiar with video games, and perhaps he was a little out of his depth with that one.
“How do I shoot the arrows again?” “Wait, so I cook the food here? … Oh, fuck! Why does it look like that?! What did I do wrong?!” “WHAT IS THAT?! WHY IS IT CHASING ME?!”
Tristan had answered… and answered... and answered… but the distractions were getting overwhelming. He nearly burned one of the side dishes, and he only remembered to take the main entrée out of the oven in time because his phone alarm went off. The incessant commentary from Darius was making it impossible for Tristan to focus.
“Who is that again? Should I know what she’s talking about?” “What do I do with these plants?” “How can I make this horse like me?”
“DARIUS.” Tristan finally snapped, and his friend paused the game and peered up from the couch, clueless as to the reason behind the sudden shift in tone. “Do you mind?!”
“Wh— Sorry, am I bothering you?” There was a genuine surprise in his voice.
“YES! I need to focus over here!”
“Oh… sorry…” he returned to the game, but shrank into himself for the rest of the evening.
Tristan hadn’t thought much of it at the time, though he later did feel bad about being so curt. He figured that Darius would just laugh it off, realizing that it was nothing more than temporary stress brought on by too many pots on the stove… literally. The dinner was worth it, but he noticed that Darius was closed off and distant as they ate. Tristan just assumed that his mind was elsewhere.
He had never apologized… but was Darius really hung up on that now?
Darius wiped away his tears, smearing his makeup in the process... Something that no doubt would only further upset him if he wasn’t already in the thick of it.
Of course, it wasn’t just about the meal. It was clear that older baggage was being dredged up, and—given how Darius had already mentioned being fearful of his father's reaction—Tristan had a pretty good guess as to what was actually wrong.
Darius had always felt like he was a bother to his parents. He had never been good enough, or so he thought. His grades weren’t good enough. His appearance wasn’t "normal" or "professional" enough. His chosen field wasn’t prestigious enough. His taste in music, fashion, lifestyle… none of it was refined enough for the high society circles that the Astor family ran in. He had been a disappointment to them, and now he was being a disappointment again.
He had always felt like a bother, so to hear Tristan, his best friend, finally say that he was had pushed him over the edge.
Tristan realized his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he said. “You’re talking about dinner, right? I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was overwhelmed at the time and a lot was happening. You’re not a bother, Dair. I was annoyed then, but you don’t annoy me overall.”
He hesitated, thinking about his words for a minute. “Er, that is, you don’t annoy me unless you’re intentionally trying to irritate me.”
Beside him, Darius breathed out a short, amused little hum. Yeah, alright, that was fair. Sometimes he did pester Tristan on purpose, but entirely out of playful ribbing, not bullying. They had that kind of teasing friendship… That was why it had thrown him off so much to have actually upset him.
“All semester you’ve been busy with your work.” Darius said, and somehow, Tristan felt like it wasn’t the first time that Darius had said something along those lines to someone. It broke his heart to think of a younger Darius potentially bringing that glum observation up to his father or mother. “I’ve seen you getting stressed out about your assignments and deadlines. You’ve got enough going on. I didn’t want to burden you with teaching me on top of it.”
He grew mousier. “Plus, it’s— it’s embarrassing to need help… if you’re me…”
With a sigh, Tristan’s shoulders sank.
“You’re not a burden, Dair. I would have dropped everything to help you. I’m serious. I will drop everything to help you if you want me to.” He took a hard look at Darius, who was avoiding eye contact, but seemed to be calming down a bit. Finally, shyly, Darius nodded.
“Would you?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
Gently Darius swept his remaining tears away.
“I don’t know if I can turn this around in time.” he muttered. “But I’ll try…”
“We’ll try.” Tristan corrected him. “We’ll study hard, and you see if you can do a make-up test. I’ve had that professor before; he’s pretty forgiving as long as you make an honest effort.”
“As for my dad…”
“Look, he’s proud of you, Dair. I know he is.” That wasn’t a lie. It’s not like Tristan was super close with Darius' parents, but he and Darius had been best friends for years, and Tristan was no stranger at their house. Both Mr. and Mrs. Astor had spoken to him several times, telling him that they were so glad that the boys were friends, and glowing about how happy they were with how Darius had grown and really come into his own over time. Mr. Astor apparently had a hard time expressing it, but he really did love his son, quirks, eccentricities, and all. He may have been the head of the college with an image and reputation to uphold, but he was Darius' father first.
“He wants what’s best for you, and you’re trying to improve all on your own. That’s responsible. He’s not going to hate you because of a bad grade. Trust me. He’ll understand. He loves you.”
Darius still looked soggy, though a little less dejected. His eyes sparkled as he took in the reminder.
“Yeah…” he said. “He does... I know…”
Darius sniffled and reached for his keys, then turned over the engine, clearly trying to pull himself together.
“Thanks for listening, Tris.”
It really did mean the world to him. Life hadn’t always been easy for Darius… there was a lot of pressure from his successful parents, whether or not they meant to impose it. It wasn’t the first time that he had exposed his insecurities to Tristan. It wasn’t the first conversation they had about his father specifically. It wasn’t the first time that he had felt inadequate. It wasn’t the first time that Tristan had seen him cry. There had been years of venting doubts and fears and worries…
... But at the end of the day, he was just happy to have a friend. God was he thankful to have a friend there to listen, especially one as caring as Tristan.
“Anytime, Dair. I’m here for you.” Tristan started to settle back into his seat, but something stopped him. Darius still had a bit of a sad puppy look about him, like he needed some sort of release.
“… Do you want a hug?”
Darius chuckled and shook his head again, but then sheepishly stretched out his arms as much as he could in the enclosed space. Wordlessly he leaned into Tristan’s embrace, and they hugged it out. It wasn’t a very good hug given the cramped quarters and awkward angles, but the physical contact did feel nice.
They pulled away from each other after a second, then buckled up. Neither spoke anything more of it as they exited the garage. Once they were back in the sunshine, Darius seemed to return to his normal self, as if waking up from a dream. It was a little jarring, but hey, that was Darius.
“Alright nerd, first math problem of the night.”
They were back to playful jabs; that was a good sign. Regardless, Tristan side eyed him in bewilderment. Darius wanted to start his tutoring now?
“If a cheeseburger basket at Mel’s costs $9, I order two, we both get milkshakes for $4 each, and I tack on mozz sticks for $6, what have I got?”
“A simple addition problem… But with tax, the order would come out t—”
“EERRH!” Darius' buzzer imitation startled Tristan enough to make him jump. “Wrong. The correct answer is dinner. I’m taking you out tonight to say thanks. My treat.”
Who was Tristan to refuse a free meal? He wasn’t planning on charging Darius for lessons, but if he wanted to pay him in a pound of greasy diner food, he’d take it. That was one equation they both could get behind.
