Queer Sort #3
Cornelius had never worked such an efficiently run excavation, nor one which such a pleasant team.
That wasn’t to say everyone got along all the time, but issues were communicated and dealt with immediately instead of leaving to fester and deteriorate morale.
Despite having been here for over a year, Joaquim’s team was just beginning to understand what lay beneath their feet.
Deep within Cornelius’ heart, he believed it was the place Fawcett had been looking for.
That to go any further looking for it, or him, was folly, because the man was dead and the city he was looking for was right here.
There was another part of Cornelius that liked the way Watt was here.
Relaxed, and happy. Cornelius still found it hard to decipher how the man was truly feeling for he was more excellent at putting on masks than Cornelius was, but he thought it was true.
Watt was happy here. He had a routine again, a daily purpose and people who wanted to listen to what he had to say.
Would that happiness last though, if they gave up on their quest?
Watt beheld a certain type of honor and pride, and begrudgingly Cornelius did too.
A man did not go back on his word, and if they did, it could haunt them for the rest of their lives.
“Cornelius?”
Cornelius blinked. Benedito and Ant?nio were exchanging a look.
Watt stared at him, worry creasing his brows.
Cornelius shook his head a little. “Sorry, I—I’m a bit tired.
I think I’ll turn in for the night.” He pushed away from the table, standing a little uneasily.
He hadn't been using his cane for a few days now, and acutely wished he had it.
“I’ll come with you,” Watt said.
“No, stay. It’s early yet.” Cornelius gave Watt a reassuring smile, effectively stopping the man in his efforts to get up as well.
“If you’re sure.” Watt relented.
Cornelius patted his shoulder, then nodded to Ant?nio and Benedito. “Night fellas. See you in the morning.”
Cornelius left the canteen behind, wandering down the path back to their tent.
The night was crisp, and the stars bright.
The moon was just beginning to rise over the broken canopy, a waxing crescent that shone with all its might.
Cornelius swatted at a vague insect, grumbling as he dove inside the tent for shelter.
The grumbling soon transformed into a curse.
Andrea was sitting on his cot, hands clasped between his knees and head bowed. Upon seeing Cornelius he stood, looking a bit sheepish. “There you are,” he said quietly, then took a step towards Cornelius.
Cornelius didn’t budge from his place just inside the tent flap. “What do you want, Andrea?”
Andrea ran a hand over the back of his neck and tried on a smile. “Easy, I only want to talk.”
Cornelius fought the urge to cross his arms. He kept his stance easy, but his feet were planted.
Andrea stood before him now, his shoulders hunched and dark eyes big and shining in the dim light.
“We have nothing to talk about. There is nothing you could say that I want to hear, and nothing I—”
“I’m sorry, Cornelius,” Andrea whispered.
Cornelius laughed.
The man who had once been his lover, his friend, had the audacity to look affronted. “I am,” he insisted.
“Do you even know what those words mean?”
Andrea flushed. He reached for Cornelius’ hand, but the warning look in Cornelius’ eye stopped him. His fingers curled into a fist, which fell to his side. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true. What I did, it’s unforgivable. The behavior of a man spurned and threatened.”
“Threatened?” Cornelius laughed again. He hadn't drank in over a month now, but he felt drunk with fury and delirium. "When did I ever threaten you? When did I ever do anything but support you and care—” Cornelius jerked his gaze away from Andrea’s pleading stare.
He whispered, “I trusted you, Andrea. And you betrayed me in a way that no one ever has. "
Andrea ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”
Cornelius glared at him. “Is that why you’re here? Are you going to warn me this time?”
“Yes, actually. But not—I wouldn’t do that to you, Cornelius. Not again. I’m here to apologize for then, and how I acted when you arrived, and to ask you to stay.”
Cornelius blinked, uncomprehending. “And why in the hell would I do a thing like that? Why would you?”
Andrea smiled tentatively.
Cornelius scoffed in disgust. “Do you really think I’d take you back?”
Andrea quickly looked away, brows pinching in concentration.
Cornelius tracked his line of sight, but it appeared the man was simply lost in thought, staring at the canvas of the tent.
Quietly, and without looking at him, Andrea said, “No. But I thought maybe you’d have some common sense.
You like it here, I can see it. And this quest you’re on, it’s pointless.
You know it, and I know it. We all do. Things may be …
broken, between us, and I admit my part in that.
But that doesn’t mean I want to see you search after certain death.
It is dangerous country, and for what? Skeletons? ”
Cornelius sighed. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I made a promise, Andrea. And I always keep my promises.”
Andrea swallowed. He finally met Cornelius’ gaze and said, “I’ll leave. If that’s what it takes to get you to stay, I’ll do it.”
And this. This gave Cornelius pause. He searched the other man’s eyes, and found nothing but honest truth.
He believed that if he asked Andrea right then to leave, he would.
Unfortunately, this meant that Andrea had somehow changed.
While he was still Andrea, there was a facet to him that had emerged in their time apart.
He also knew that he wasn’t obligated to forgive him.
“Not everything is about you, Andrea. It’s like I said. I made a promise.”
Andrea flexed his hands open at his sides, then nodded jerkily. He exhaled and said, “As stubborn as ever, Cornelius Sawyer.” He extended a hand to Cornelius, as if to shake. “I’m glad to have known you.”
Cornelius pulled back the flap of the tent. “Goodnight, Andrea.”
Andrea left, giving Cornelius a sidelong glance as he passed.
Once he was gone, the tent was oppressive.
Too quiet. His lungs itched for a cigarette, but he'd finally gotten the darts back down to a sane number. He paced the small area between his and Watt’s cots, running his hands through his hair and the conversation through his mind over and over again.
How dare he.
How dare Andrea come in and tell Cornelius exactly what he’d wanted to hear for years upon years, when it no longer had any effect at all?
The part of his heart that used to be saturated with anger and grief now felt empty, an endless wasteland colder than Lake Michigan.
It was disorienting, like he’d been carrying a great weight only to realize he hadn't really been carrying anything at all and was now off kilter without its burden.
After ten minutes of pacing and fretting, Cornelius realized he was waiting for Watt.
This infuriated him. He’d put his heart into another man’s hands, again.
And what was worse, this time he knew the outcome would result in his heart being broken, and welcomed it.
He knew that Watt didn’t love him back, and yet he wanted him anyway.
He wanted his quiet presence, his reassuring wisdom and endless friendship.
After twenty minutes, Cornelius couldn’t take solitude any longer. He escaped the confines of the tent and lit up a cigarette, doing his best to forget about his troubles for a little while.