07.5 Fic: Secret 3

"ANOTHER!"   The shout was almost as loud as the crash of the minotaur's (mostly) empty tankard slamming onto the bar.   Cypher watched the bartender scurry to refill the oversized cup with something dark and foamy, grateful for the distraction. It smelled great. Not worth it though. Never worth it.   He was seated a few stools away. One of them had been filled by Cri, but she had turned in already. He wondered if it would be a good idea to copy her.   Probably.   He glanced sideways, at the rest of the pub. It was a quiet night, aside from in the literal sense. Only a few other patrons lingered at tables.   And what were the odds but that Varin, the half-elf he’d been recklessly flirting with all week, was among them.   To be fair, Varin started it. To be fairer, he continued it.   Stupid. Indulgent.   Brightness on his other side. He turned to find Mirage grinning at him, her incandescent hair a wild tumble around her beaming face.   “Hi Cypher!”   He took in a slow breath, reaching for his glass.   "Mirage."   The genasi continued to grin as he took a slow drink of particularly disappointing water.   "Whatcha looking at?" She asked, tilting her head in a show of innocence that fooled him not for a second. He felt his face heat, darkening.   You know damn well.   He didn’t bother to answer, draining his glass instead.   “Thirsty?” he could hear the smirk without looking.   “Apparently,” he muttered, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the bartender to ask for a refill. No good. She was very busy keeping up with the increasingly-enthusiastic drinking game between their fighter and paladin.   He gave up. Looked to his right. Mirage was still smirking at him. Dodged to the left. A mistake; Varin looked over at the same time. Fatal eye contact.   He looked at the bar. Too late, he’d already seen hopeful recognition flicker over the half-elf’s face. He searched the wood grain like it might hold a secret door he could flee through.   He knew it from the squeak of a chair pushing back even before Mirage’s meaningful nudges on his shoulder began.   Footsteps.   Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.   "Hey"   He was standing so close. Right behind him. He smelled like the sea, the scent floated over him like a soft net.   His throat was thick. He swallowed. The normal thing to do, he recalled distantly, was to turn around, fake composure, and "hey" him back. But he couldn’t afford that.   Inhale. Exhale. Even without looking he knew how Varin would be standing. Relaxed, with an easy but tentative smile. Freckled cheeks starting to dimple. Loose clothes hiding a swimmer’s build. A vision flashed in his mind that almost made him stammer.   Focus, idiot. You made this mess now clean. It. Up.   "Hey."   Forcing his voice to impassivity felt like strangling something soft. He didn’t turn around.   “Can I sit here?”   A beat. Varin’s face was out of sight, but Mirage lingered in his peripheral. Any port in a storm. He looked at her, trying to plead for rescue with a look.   “Oh don’t worry, i was juuuust leaving” she smiled, starting to stand.   He waited until she was already halfway stood.   “I was going to head out, too,” he said, standing up, himself.   “Oh! Then can I, um,” a soft blush tinted Varin’s cheeks purple, “ can I walk with you to your inn? You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”   The shy optimism in his voice was like needles. Not like it was a presumptuous ask. Not like he hadn’t gone and acted like something was possible for a change. As if his own disappointment was the only thing on the line when reality set in.   So it hurts. Appropriate. Deal with it.   “That’s okay,” he said, shrugging his coat on while mirage contorted her features into what he could only assume were impolite questions about his sanity, “I don’t think I’ll be good company, I’m pretty tired.”   “I don’t mind.”   Of course you don’t. You’re endlessly patient. Mercy, please. You can do better.   He forced a smile as he threw his scarf over his shoulder. “Really, it’s fine, it’s cold out anyway. I don’t want to take you from your friends.” He nodded toward the two others at Varin’s table who immediately resumed their conversation as if they hadn’t been silently straining their ears this whole time.   “Will I see you before you go?” confusion tilted his tone like a torn sail.   This, he reminded himself, is why we don’t do this.   “Probably not, if I’m being honest. We’re heading out pretty early.”   He started toward the door, Mirage scrambling after him. Probably to cut him off.   “But hey,” he turned and clasped one hand on Varin’s shoulder. Eye contact. Confusion, doubt, questions rushing over like a tide, sweeping hope off to sea.   Don’t look away.   Cypher forced his voice steady.   “it was fun.”   “Y-yeah.”   He turned and pulled the door open, stepping swiftly through before anything else could be said. Cold air rushed in to fill the space under his palm. The door stayed closed behind him.   Fair enough.   He hadn’t really expected her to leave with him.   He took in a lungful of cold air, noticed it was starting to snow, and started walking.   Stupid. Knew better. Weak.   He hadn’t made it to the corner when hands on his shoulders made him jump and stifle a yell. He settled for a curse instead as Mirage stopped hovering, landing like a gavel.   "What was THAT?!"   The rogue's exclamation rang in the empty street like a bell.   "A course-correction," he muttered, resuming his steps. Still steamed, she started walking beside him.   "You idiot, he was into you! And don't think I didn't see you chatting him up all week, either.”   He flinched.   “I know we’re leaving but why'd you have to be such a... Such a dick? No wonder you’re such a miserable shit, Cypher. Why do you have to wreck everything for yourself?"   "Can you not just fucking leave it?” he snapped. “...Please."   The please came too late, and he knew it.   Mirage glared daggers colder than the night wind.   "Whatever, asshole, just trying to gauge if you’ve actually lost your mind."   "Not yet.”   “Then what gives?”   “I don’t want to talk about it.”   They’d been travelling together too long for Cypher to think that was satisfying, but it was also long enough that Mirage evidently knew the odds of his taking it back were slim.   They walked in silence for a minute. The snow picked up, beginning to frost the late autumn trees like lace. It sparkled where firelight escaped shutters in streaks on the cobblestone.   He looked aside at Mirage. Her brows were pressed together. For a second, the anger was joined by something that could have been concern if he squinted at it.   Friends don’t grow on trees, dumbass.   He buried his face in his hands, dragging then down his face. What was one more stupid gamble?   "Okay fine, I was an asshole."   That got her attention.   “No kidding. Why, though? He seemed nice.”   Something occurred to her and she cocked her head before he could come up with a decent answer. “You not into dudes?”   He laughed. If only it was that simple. “I’m into whatever, not that it matters.”   "Not if you keep shooting people down for no reason, it doesn’t.”   “...”   He looked at her sidelong. There was still room to exit this conversation without giving anything away.   Give and take.   "Hey Mirage, do you think it's possible to love someone and still have secrets from them?"   She blinked.   "Damn, dude, you fell that hard in a week?"   He held his palms out in protest, shaking his head “no, no, That wasn’t... I’m being hypothetical. Really.”   She studied him for a minute, then shrugged. “Guess it depends on the secrets. With yours, probably not. But that’s easily fixed, you know,” she said, pointedly.   He studied his boots. His secrecy rested least easily with Mirage, he knew. Ta’lok treated it like an inconvenience, Cri like a phase he’d get over with time, and Saeldor, well, he gave everyone a million chances. It was his whole deal.   But for Mirage, his holdbacks seemed to read as a failure to reciprocate her offered hand. He picked his words carefully.   “And if it isn’t that easy?”   She shrugged, “it’s not like that’s the only way to find company. You don’t have to marry everyone you wink at, you know.”   He grimaced. She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like it had never occurred to him.   Puts this slip-up in perspective, at least.   "I don't think I do casual... stuff." He said, face kindling.   "Sap."   Her voice was teasing. A half smile flickered on his lips, but the rest of his face was a bonfire. "Maybe. So what?"   "So I didn't figure you for a romantic."   Next subject, Please.   He shrugged and made a parody of a grand gesture.   "I contain multitudes."   “Yes, yes, you’re very enigmatic and mysterious.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, you're gonna have to tell someone some day."   "You really better hope that's not true."   Mirage glanced at him, trying to read his expression.   "So you just run around breaking hearts instead? He kept asking what he did wrong."   He winced. “That wasn’t... I didn’t... plan on hurting anyone.” He shoved his hands in his pockets like it would stop the chill spreading from his chest.   “This week was a slip-up. An unfair one. I just... I know I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep – implied or otherwise.”   His breath clouded before his face, a long stream.   “It was just... nice to pretend. For a minute.”   “Well you could’ve been less of a prick about it.”   Merciless. Never change.   “Probably. I don’t know, it’s not like I get a lot of practice.”   “So,” she counted on her fingers. Bare fingers, apparently the cold wasn’t bothersome for her. Lucky.   “No dating, no casual hookups, no flirtationships, nothing, ever?”   You think this is a bluff? Adorable.   "None.” he confirmed, eyes studiously forward, “I don’t need to tell you that you can’t keep secrets like I do and expect to be trusted. How do you love someone you don’t trust? And its not like it’s always easy to keep my mouth shut, even sober. Imagine with someone I – no. Not a risk I can take.”   His voice was running away from him, like a river breaking its banks.   "It’s all off-limits. No flirting in a bar, no awkward first dates, no waiting for letters. No meeting the folks, no house, no dog, no quiet nights in, definitely no kids. It’ll never be worth the risk. Bad enough if what I’m sitting on got out to friends. I don’t think I could ever come back from doing that to anyone closer. If going out alone is what it takes to make sure this shit dies with me, then that’s what it takes. All of it goes when I do. At any cost."   All at once, the measure of what he’d said crashed into the stunned silence that followed, and he felt the blood drain from his face.   "Please don't tell the others," he whispered, regrets already clouding his vision.   Silent seconds stretched. The snow crunched under their boots. He didn’t feel the movement, numb. He hardly heard it over his heart hammering.   "Buddy. Of course I won’t."   He exhaled. "Thank you."   "You've thought about this."   "A bunch, yeah."   "Bummer."   "Yeah."   They rounded the next corner, and the inn loomed before them.   "I really am going to turn in," Cypher said, suddenly exhausted.   "Sure."   "Sorry I snapped at you."   "I shouldn't've pushed it."   He shrugged. "I was a dick and you called me out. You going back?"   "Someone has to make sure those doofuses don’t get in trouble," she said mildly.   “Best of luck finding someone up to the task, then.”   He turned to let himself in and froze, shoulders rising involuntarily as the snowball slid, dripping ice water down his coat.   He spun, stooping for a handful but the laughing genasi was already halfway down the street.   Cypher shook his head and went inside. When he got to the room, Cri was letter-writing by candlelight. She asked what he was smiling about.   “Nothing,” he said.   She didn’t press.