22. Inconvenient Truths #3
Scholars leaning eagerly over their desks, Alistair on his feet, the teacher by the board. It’s not like in a film, with people arrested mid-movement; it’s more like they all decide to take a collective pause, a breather, their eyes suddenly vacant. Bastian stands. ‘Come on.’
Briar doesn’t understand who Bastian’s talking to until he seizes them by the wrist and pulls them away from the board, towards the door.
‘What are you doing?’ Briar says, trying to shake him off. They’re meant to be standing by the board.
‘Just - come on.’ Once they’re out in the hallway, Bastian drops Briar’s arm, but keeps walking. ‘There’s not much time, and Buck’s in a foul mood. Is there some . . . cleaner’s office you can go hide in?’
Briar is struggling to keep up. ‘What?’
‘In about five seconds class will be over and he’s going to come out here and tell you to go with him, and I’d rather not have to duel him in the corridor. He knows your dorm, he knows all your . . . friends. He’ll just come and find you, and then - it makes things very complicated for me.’
‘Well, don’t bother, then,’ Briar says.
‘Shut up,’ Bastian says dismissively. ‘Where can you go? Just until I can get him to calm down.’
‘I know a place,’ Briar says. They take the next left and find the corridor full of scholars; they have to duck and weave to get around them, and by the time they’re in clearer territory, they’re surprised to discover that Bastian is still keeping pace.
They take another left towards the IT suite, two rights, then down the end of the long corridor they finally reach the locked door to the tower.
‘What’s this?’ Bastian asks. ‘It says it’s out of order.’
‘It’s a room,’ Briar replies. ‘How could a room be out of order?’
Bastian sighs. ‘Just open the door.’
Briar does, wondering if they’re about to discover Tate knitting by the fire or Westby hunched over his revision, but the room is blessedly empty.
They lock the door behind them and, as their heart slows, watch as Bastian drifts over to the desk, running his fingers over the personal photos still pinned to the wall.
‘Whose office is this?’ he says.
‘Some guy called Parker,’ says Briar. ‘I assume he doesn’t work here any more, but he was here in the nineties.’ They take a breath. ‘What the fuck happened back there?’
Bastian picks up the school newsletter from ’98 and peers at it. ‘You don’t know what you said to Alistair?’
‘No,’ Briar says, frowning. ‘I remember, I just don’t see the - oh, shit.
’ Now that they’re replaying the conversation in their mind, they do see the problem.
It had seemed perfectly normal, not worth a second thought.
There hadn’t been a hint of shame, not even the lingering conversational hangover that sometimes occurs after oversharing at a party.
‘Exactly.’ Bastian puts down the newsletter and squares his shoulders. ‘Right. Stay here. Might be wise to sleep here tonight, too.’
‘I do have a job, you know.’
Bastian is already halfway to the door. ‘Well, it’s your job or your life. Your choice.’
‘Wait,’ Briar says. Hadley’s plan. There’s no better time, now that the two of them seem to be at a tentative truce. ‘I wanted to . . . apologise.’
‘Apologise?’ Bastian goes still.
‘Yeah,’ says Briar. ‘I’ve been . . . pretty hard on you, I think. It’s just been difficult. Seeing you again, after all this time. Brought up a lot of stuff that I wasn’t expecting.’ So far, so true. ‘You’re just very . . . different.’
Bastian leans against the door, eyes on the floor. ‘I’m not that different.’
‘Okay,’ Briar says slowly. ‘Well you seem different to me.’ This isn’t what Bastian wants to hear. He turns to leave again, groping for the key, and Briar adds, ‘But you saved me. Again. So, thank you.’
Bastian glances up, and the expression Briar catches on his face feels like an invasion of privacy, something they weren’t supposed to see. He looks completely and utterly vulnerable - laughable, really, considering the balance of power in the room.
‘You said you loved me,’ he says suddenly. Briar’s face heats. They want to look away, but find they can’t. ‘When we were kids, I mean.’
Briar swallows. Why does this feel so hard? It’s true. They already said it, in front of an entire classroom. And yet, this is almost worse. ‘I did love you.’
‘You did,’ Bastian says quietly, nodding, like this confirms something he’s been wondering about for a long time. When did he start to doubt it? It had always been hard for him to believe Briar actually liked him, even back when they lived in each other’s pockets.
When Briar stopped coming to the door or answering the phone after the acceptance letter, Briar decides. That was probably the moment that really shook his faith.
They think Bastian’s done, the conversation over, but then he adds, quietly, ‘I loved you so much.’
Some long-abandoned chamber of Briar’s heart flares painfully, tender from disuse. It feels like some of Alistair’s thaumaturgy must still be working when they ask, too honestly, ‘Then why did you go?’
Bastian just shakes his head, and finally turns the key in the lock so that he can make his escape.
Briar is left alone in the empty office, the question lingering like a hot stone on their tongue.