“Fucking Kaz,” Emre snorted, but the smile on his face couldn't be contained, or even dimmed. He sounded more coy than annoyed, but Emre kept quarreling to himself, “Course he’d be patting himself on the back for cozying up to you all these years innit. Teleports open and of course who else would the girl hand over all her credits? Right to him. Bloody clever sod.” As if Kaz could’ve predicted the teleports opening, or using credits for perks, or strategically befriending little bouncy Wren. None of these things were true; Emre was just muttering, and he was half-chortling to himself as he whinged.
Emre was very, very good at feeling sorry for himself. It was the desi-parental way, to guilt-trip the child, then grieve over one’s own hard life and sacrifices for said child. So he delivered his complaints about Iyaz’s purported ‘cruelty’ to him, almost hoping for Wren to lambast Iyaz for being so selfish and mean to Emre. Wasn’t that her argument before? Maybe, in this moment of slef-pity, Emre wanted to lean into that point. Feel bad about himself, then feel noble for loving Iyaz despite all of Iyaz’s faults.
Instead, Wren pointed out about her own parents, blasting all that petulance out of Emre’s mind. He’s eyes rounded out, expression dropping in muted sympathy and realization. Once again, Wren shared a common experience; but in her situation, it was more distressing. “No contact at all?” Emre murmured, ducking his head to peer at Wren, try to meet her eyes. They were dead. That was Emre’s immediately conclusion. Where ever the pair went (for Wren’s birthday gift, no less, poor little thing), they’d died there. He couldn’t imagine any other reason for parents not doing everything they could, to reach out to their precious little girl. “I’m - I’m so sorry, darling.”
He looked up at all the monitors, screens showing people out in the world, doing random things. News reports. Social media videos from past or present, Emre wasn’t sure. So many lives; finding Cornell and Milana was a needle in the haystack. Emre was preoccupied thinking about Wren’s missing parents, that he didn’t balk or prickle when Wren pointed out his own hollow life.
“I can do whatever I want. Yeah...” Emre stayed staring at the monitors, using the buttons and dials to switch feeds on the screens. “What’s that even mean, when it’s at home. He looked over his shoulder at Wren. “Without your parents, what do you want in your life, then? What’s the point of it?”
Her reticent reply about Tamyra translated to Emre: so her and Tamyra together wasn’t the ‘point’ of it, then. Fair enough, if a little disappointing. Emre’s need to matchmake everyone and envision perfect happiness, crumbled a bit. “Sort it out, yeah? I’m sure you two can sort anything out.”
Wren made the statement, plain as day: And if I ever do want to go somewhere, I’d want you with me. Always. Emre licked his lips, considering. Then he turned to Wren and took her hand, kissing her fingers roughly. “Deal. Don’t ever leave this island without me, Wren. I mean it.”
That irrepressible smile returned, and Emre slumped lazily across the dashboard. One hand supported his head. He kept a hold of Wren’s hand, now just toying with her fingers, all her pretty little rings. “He’s always saying lovely things about you. Can’t shut up. ‘Wren’s a little angel’ and ‘I can’t function without Wren’, that sort of thing. Regular Kaz-things innit.”
A pause, and then Emre continued. “Maybe if he’s not your fam but you’re close, it can be like that for you and me too, innit,” he suggested, unaware that Wren and Kaz had messed around. He was just thinking about their closeness; at least, a closeness that Wren loved to gush about, and Kaz occasionally implied. “Unless everything’s got to be unique and special for you.”
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