A/N: Based on a challenge game from tumblr, the picture that inspired this story is linked in my profile. It was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but the second chapter is sort of a follow up oneshot from an unrelated challenge.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
Flynn hefted the scepter that was to be part of his Prince Crescendo costume. Estelle had just finished it, and it had turned out really well. Gently, he touched the surface of the large, blue gem on the end of it. That hadn't been there when last he'd seen her painting the dowel gold.
They were in her cosplay room. Estelle was sitting at her sewing table before the silent machine. Layers of fabric were bunched up in her lap being pinned together just so in preparation for when she'd stitch them together. Against the opposite wall were drawers full of odds and ends—pins, bobbins, ribbons, buttons, and a hundred other little components. One corner was devoted to clear plastic storage bins full of fabric. Normally, Estelle kept the room perfectly tidy. They were a little over a week out from a convention, however, and drawers stood open, chalk and pins littered the table, fabric spilled out of bins, and Flynn had spotted four pairs of scissors lying around since he'd come in.
On the plus side, things seemed to be going relatively smoothly. There'd only been three mad dashes to the craft store, and Estelle's wig had been easily located online, and successfully modified. She really was getting very good at what she did.
"How did you make the crystal?" Flynn asked her.
"Clear casting resin and dye. Judith gave me some tips."
"She's your cosplay friend? The one you met online?"
"Yes. She's taught me a lot. Without her, I couldn't have done half so well on my cosplays."
"You don't give yourself enough credit." He set the scepter down much more carefully than he probably needed to, but he'd learned his lesson about underestimating the fragility of props. "Do you need help with anything?"
"We'll need to do one last fitting for you soon, but I'm almost done. I'm so excited about next week! I finally get to meet Judith in person! Thank you again for going to the con with me."
"My pleasure."
He turned around to see where the cosplay he would be wearing hung from a little hook over the door. The detail Estelle had been able to recreate in it was amazing. It was hard to believe she'd done it all on her own.
"Where is Judith from, again?"
"She used to live near Mount Temza."
He nodded. That was clear across the country. It was no wonder Estelle was excited to get to meet her at this convention.
"Just recently, though, she moved to Dahngrest."
Flynn dropped into the driver's seat of his car, pulled the door shut, and slotted his key into the ignition. For a minute, he simply sat there, staring straight out the windshield without actually seeing the fluorescent-lit parking lot beyond. When he finally moved, it was to lunge suddenly to the side, yanking open his glove box and rifling around inside until he pulled out a postcard.
The photo on the front was of a rather unremarkable view down a deserted city street to where it spilled out onto a busy one. The only features of note were the brilliant but chipping layer of turquoise paint that coated the side of one brick building, and a pot trailing bright purple flowers off of a fire escape. Begonias, he thought idly, though he was fairly certain he wouldn't know a begonia from a carnation if asked. 'WELCOME TO DAHNGREST' was printed in the bottom right-hand corner of the postcard in a cheap, Word Art effect.
He studied the image. There were people passing by in the off-center intersection, but they were blurry and hard to distinguish. There was no one familiar. He'd checked.
He flipped the postcard over.
Hey
That was all it said, just: 'Hey.' No comma to pause and turn it into the introduction of a letter. No period to end the thought. It was nothing but an impulse. Flynn was surprised it had ever even been sent, but on the other half of the card was his address written in that same, familiar handwriting, and above that, a smudged stamp and the seal of the Dahngrest postal service. The message, if it was actually supposed to be one, had made it into the mail and been delivered to his door four years ago.
To be fair, the card's very existence was a message in and of itself, or it had been back then, back during all the confusion. It had been mostly his confusion, he remembered, his worry, his anger. He'd been the one raising a fuss at the police station even though it hadn't been his place to do so.
'I'm alive,' the card had told him when it had arrived. That had been three days after Yuri's eighteenth birthday, and almost two months after he'd disappeared.
The convention was being held at a large hotel in downtown Dahngrest. Estelle had taken care of booking the room and pre-registration. Flynn drove. The two hour trip went by in no time.
In the city, Flynn scanned the crowds. It had become a habit whenever he came to Dahngrest. As they neared the downtown area, he saw increasing numbers of other people obviously in town for the convention: people with neon hair, Lolita dresses, and in full cosplay. There were familiar characters, but no familiar faces.
Gamers and anime fans were swarming about outside the hotel and in the lobby. Flynn stood guard over their luggage while Estelle got them checked in. Signs next to the elevator bay pointed the way to Registration. Tempting, but the suitcases and garment bags had to be put away first.
In their room, Flynn took longer than Estelle liked getting everything put away. He smiled as he carefully hung up the outfits she had made for them in the closet. Maybe they would change and go down as Prince Crescendo and Polka in a little while. At the moment, however, Estelle was practically bouncing in her eagerness to get registered and begin enjoying the convention.
Back down on the ground floor, they took their places in line along with people dressed in anything from t-shirts and jeans to ball gowns. Estelle watched the crowds, excitedly pointing out cosplayers. Final Fantasy, Mario, Metal Gear, Street Fighter, Team Fortress, Mortal Kombat—representatives from dozens of games and franchises filled the hall in the form of cosplayers.
Flynn watched them go by, quietly impressed by some of the craftsmanship and surprised to see a few characters from old or niche titles wander past. Though he cosplayed mostly for Estelle's sake, he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. However, the main draw of the convention for him would be the game and dealers' rooms. He was making up a list of titles to look for when Estelle pointed out someone from the crowd.
"There's Judith!"
She was easy enough to pick out. She and Estelle had both agreed to create Eternal Sonata cosplays. Judith had to be the girl dressed as Viola. Even from halfway down the hall, Flynn could see that she had an eye for detail. She'd need it to manage any of the characters from the game, really. He'd heard that some of the more talented cosplayers could sometimes be elitist, but Estelle had only ever spoken well of Judith, and Flynn was glad of it. As she made her way towards them, having spotted Estelle waving, Flynn caught sight of the person following her and went still.
A young man his own age shadowed Judith. He was dressed as Jazz, all browns and cream, a simpler costume compared to the others, and he was watching the crowds to either side of him with interest. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He'd grown it out. His eyes would be gray, Flynn knew.
As they came within earshot, Estelle grabbed Flynn's arm. "She's got a Jazz with her!"
The sound of his character's name caught his attention, and he finally looked right at them. The grin that had been spreading across his face winked out, erased, as if he needed to build the smile that replaced it from scratch. It was a shallow mask, but an opaque one. He looked Flynn right in the eye.
"Hey," Yuri said.
Yuri hadn't quite been eighteen when he'd disappeared during the summer before their senior year in high school. Once he'd realized that Yuri was gone, Flynn had been frantic. He hadn't believed at first that Yuri had run away. He'd left behind his phone and his wallet. His foster father had claimed that nothing else was missing, either, not that the old drunk would have known even if he'd actually looked. He'd only filed a missing persons report because Flynn had kept after him to do so, and even then, Flynn had had to continuously keep after the police to be sure they were following up. Yuri hadn't exactly been a stranger down at the precinct.
Nothing had ever turned up and, on the day of Yuri's eighteenth birthday, he had been declared legally an adult and the case had been set aside. Nothing Flynn had said had changed their minds.
Then, three days after that, he'd received that postcard from Yuri, an awkward greeting with no return address. He'd waited for Yuri to contact him again, but there'd been no further word. Finally, one Sunday late that autumn, Flynn had gotten sick of waiting. He'd driven to Dahngrest and searched its streets for the turquoise building and the purple begonias. Eventually, he'd found a souvenir shop that sold the postcards. No one in the store remembered Yuri, but they'd told Flynn how to find the street in the picture. He'd gone there wondering if the postcard was a clue, some stupid game Yuri had been playing. He'd been furious and so anxious that he'd felt sick to his stomach.
He had found the street. The turquoise building had been repainted in a color that was a little too pink to be terra cotta, and there had been no sign of the begonias. Flynn had spoken with the office staff of the apartments pictured, he'd checked the tenant directories next to the doors. No one had recognized his description of Yuri. None of the names had been his. There hadn't even been a set of matching initials. If Yuri had been sending Flynn a clue, either it had been too vague, or Flynn had waited too long to follow it.
People did not make way for Flynn as he strode down the hall. At least they weren't asking for pictures anymore, though. His wrath might have its limits, but it was of some use. He tightened his grip on the scepter, wanting to hit something with it. Hit someone. Yuri. He wanted to hit Yuri with it, wanted to beat the hell out of him.
Currently, Yuri was following along behind him. He wasn't saying anything, but Flynn knew he was there. He kept catching glimpses while turning corners. It was an aggravation that was quickly approaching infuriating.
Numb didn't really describe how he'd felt during that first meeting in the registration line. It was almost the opposite of what he'd gone through. Everything from back then—his friendship with Yuri, the shock of his sudden disappearance, the anger, the fear, the years of worrying and wondering—all of it had come back to him all at once. He hadn't known what to feel, hadn't been able to express anything past the crush of memory and emotion. He'd just stood there, blankly, while Judith had introduced Yuri.
Estelle had recognized the name, of course. There had been an awkward moment where Judith had realized that something was up and no one had known quite what to say. Luckily, she and Yuri had been called away to be photographed, and Estelle had promised to get in touch with her a little later. With that, they'd gone their separate ways.
Immediately after registering, Flynn and Estelle had gone back up to their room. It had been a strategic retreat. He'd needed to regroup.
Estelle had been apologetic. She'd had no idea that Judith even knew Yuri, much less that he would be attending with her. She had asked if Flynn was all right. Something about his answer must have confirmed for her that there wasn't going to be a joyful reunion. She'd told him that he didn't have to cosplay with them. She'd said that if he didn't feel like staying the weekend anymore that she wouldn't mind if he went home and just came back to pick her up on Sunday. She'd even offered to pay for the extra gas.
He'd told her that he didn't mind staying, she'd worked so hard on the costumes, after all, and besides, he'd gotten over all of that long ago.
She hadn't quite believed him, but she hadn't argued. She'd just taken her costume, wig, and makeup bag into the bathroom to get changed as Flynn had pulled his outfit out of the closet.
Every time he had put on the costume before, he had felt a little thrill of excitement at becoming a character from one of his favorite games. He hadn't felt that when he'd changed then. Prince Crescendo wasn't strong enough to overcome the emotions and memories that were steadily eating away at his protective barrier of shock.
They'd gone back down to the convention floor and found Judith and Yuri surrounded by a small crowd of photographers. As they'd joined in and posed for pictures, Flynn had kept sneaking glances at him. He saw the familiar old grin that promised mischief, the smile that dismissed the unimportant. Yuri posed with his sword, feet apart, leaning forward as if prepared to lunge, and Flynn saw him five years ago during a game of flag football in gym class. Yuri licked his lips, and Flynn remembered him sitting in a booth at a restaurant and gesturing with his spoon as he talked, a parfait on the table in front of him. When he looked down to adjust his gloves, Flynn saw him bent over a book. He turned away, and Flynn saw him asleep on the couch in the Scifo living room. All those fragments of memories came back, but he couldn't picture Yuri the way he'd last seen him four years ago. Had he missed something? Should he have known what was about to happen?
As soon as he was able to break away from the group, he had. The girls hadn't even noticed. Yuri had, of course, but Flynn hadn't expected that Yuri would come after him.
They hit a relatively empty expanse of hallway and Flynn stepped off to the side and turned to face him.
"Why are you following me?"
"Because you're walking in front of me."
"Is that it? Then please, be my guest." He waved Yuri on in the direction he'd been heading, intending at that point to simply turn around and go back to his room.
Yuri shrugged. "This is where I was headed."
They stood in a bend in the hallway empty of panel rooms or even booths. Flynn snorted.
"I forgot what a pain you are to deal with. I didn't miss that." Lie. Once he'd realized that Yuri was gone, he'd missed everything.
"So then there were other things about me that you did miss?"
"Leave me alone, Yuri. As I recall, you're actually pretty good at that."
As he turned to go, Yuri grabbed his wrist. Rounding on him, fist already raised because he'd been looking for any excuse, Flynn was caught off-guard by a shriek.
"Oh my God! You guys are, like, my OTP!"
A girl had come around the corner and was beaming at them, a camera clutched at the ready. He felt Yuri's grip loosen.
"OTP?" Yuri asked.
"Lemmie get a picture! Jazz, can you, like, kiss his hand?"
"Oh." There was a sudden understanding in the sound, and Yuri smirked. "Gotcha."
Turning his smirk onto Flynn, he knelt with a mocking 'Your Highness,' and kissed the knuckles of Flynn's hand. The girl actually squeaked just before the camera flashed. Flynn could feel his face heating up, and it only worsened as Yuri raised his gaze to meet Flynn's eyes without taking his lips from where they were pressed against the glove.
Flynn tried to yank his hand back, shoved Yuri hard enough to knock him to the floor when he wouldn't let go, and fled.
How many times had he been back to Dahngrest since that first trip? How many days had he wasted driving around the city, passing the streets in the photograph two, three times a trip? How much hope had he burned away? How many chances had he given Yuri to come out of hiding?
How many hours had he spent wondering what could have driven Yuri to disappear the way he had? What could have been so bad that he hadn't even been able to tell Flynn about it? They'd been best friends. Yuri had been….
Flynn sat in his car in the hotel parking garage, staring at the postcard. It was a reminder of a huge failure, maybe a collection of many small failures on his part. What hadn't he noticed? Why hadn't he been someone Yuri could turn to? Even with those questions hovering around it, surrounding the absence in his life the postcard highlighted, it was still the last, tenuous link between them. Yuri had left everything behind when he'd come to Dahngrest, but he'd kept Flynn's address. So why had he never said anything?
Someone knocked on the passenger side window. He didn't even need to look to know it was Yuri. The doors were already locked, but he hit the button anyway, just to make a point. He heard Yuri try the handle.
"Come on, Flynn. Open the door."
His voice was muffled, but easily understandable. Flynn didn't answer him.
"I know you've got a thing or two to say to me."
When he still got no response, he started to turn away. That was when Flynn threw the postcard onto the empty passenger seat.
"Explain that," Flynn demanded.
"You gonna let me in?" When it became obvious that the answer was no, he sighed. "I didn't know what to write."
Typical Yuri answer. The bulky cosplay slowed Flynn down as he struggled to get out of the car. Yuri watched him as he came around the front, stripping off his gloves. He threw a punch as soon as he was in range, and, although Yuri tried to block, he was too slow. He hit the pavement and Flynn loomed over him.
"Don't give me that! What about where you were staying? What about why you left?"
Yuri swept his feet out from under him. "Not really something I could commit to paper."
Flynn picked himself up, watching as Yuri did the same. "You could have told me before you left! You could have come back or called! You could have done something!"
"You wanna talk about this, or do you wanna fight? 'Cause right now—"
An access door opened, and a group of people spilled out into the garage, chatting. Flynn straightened up and fixed his cosplay. He took a deep breath. He'd needed the distraction.
Yuri was straightening his outfit. His mouth was twisted in distaste. This had to be uncomfortable for him, too. He could have just lost himself in the convention, but he'd sought Flynn out. He had to have known forgiveness wouldn't just be handed to him.
"Why did you disappear?" Flynn asked quietly. "I was…. I thought your foster father might have—"
"Mind if we leave the heavy stuff for later? It's been a while, right? I know a place nearby that makes great parfaits. They even offer discounts to cosplayers."
He cocked his head to the side, smiling wryly, and, once again, Flynn felt like he was suddenly back in high school. He wondered how much had really changed over the years.
"I haven't forgiven you."
"I know." Shrugging, he looked away. "I wasn't asking you to. Just figured it'd be easier to catch up over dessert."
Flynn watched him for a long moment before finally tearing his eyes away and gesturing to the car. "Get in. You're treating."
They got into the car and buckled up. Yuri stared out the window as Flynn drove them out to the street.
"Hey," Yuri said. "I missed you."