AN: Hey, first official fanfic on here. I present to you, the Esme/Tristan friendship fic that absolutely no one asked for. One random guess that I have is that it happens sometime during the winter break in between seasons, although that's just a random bet on my behalf.
It's was pouring outside, the rain falling in sheets of grey water against the indigo landscape of the street. Esme's car drove cautiously, creeping along as the window wipers swished around furiously. Next to her phone, a technicolor umbrella sat in the passenger driver's seat, and her eyes flashed to it occasionally to try to assess how much protection it offered.
When she arrived at her destination, she let out a sigh of relief. The lights were on, emitting a golden orange glow from the windows of the house. Esme smoothed down her hastily thrown on t-shirt and shorts, and grabbed her phone. She checked her text messages, and only found the one that was sent to her. It was from an unnamed contact, and by the amount of emojis, she assumed that it was Tristan who sent the message, which spoke in what had to be the barest definition of English about how Zoe was in trouble and Esme was the only person who could help.
As confused as Esme was by the idea that Zoe needed her specifically, she had to admit that she had grown fond of her. Though Esme knew that fondness was a useless emotion, especially when feelings like lust, or detachment existed. Both were the norm for what was often coined as "love", which she refused existed. While Esme definitely wasn't in love, she at least liked Zoe to some degree, which was as far as she would let herself get.
As she pocketed her phone and grabbed her umbrella, she jumped out of the car like an action hero in a B-movie and ran as carefully as she could, to avoid slipping. When she was finally safe under the awning of Zoe's doorway, she knocked. Tristan opened the door, a frown on his face that quickly lifted when he saw Esme.
"Esme. Come in, we need you," Tristan stated, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside with a strength that slightly surprised Esme. Once she was pulled into the much warmer house, she could hear the soft sounds of crying coming from upstairs, and sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs, her instincts taking over. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she tried to locate where the crying was coming from, and she tried to channel the spirits of her cave woman ancestors to find her. At a standstill in a random hallway of the house, further away than she started, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around at lightning speed, only to find an out of breath and apathetic Tristan, his eyebrow raised.
"Well, Speedy, I was planning to lead you to her, but apparently you had better plans?" Tristan asked sarcastically, and Esme resisted the primal urge to slap him.
"Sorry, blame the adrenaline," Esme responded, the icy coolness of her voice broken by the waver at the end.
"Do you want me to lead you to her room, or are you having too much fun with the marathon?" Tristan asked, his hand resting on his hip.
Esme rolled her eyes and nodded, forcing a cool facade. Tristan dropped the hand on his hip and began walking at a fast pace, the kind that Esme's mom favored whenever she was walking across the street to pick up her most recent boyfriend from the bar. Esme remembered this image with a snigger, and adapted to the "mom walk" pace.
As Esme traversed across the labyrinth of Zoe's house, noting certain pictures of her childhood, she tried to commit the path to memory, as it proved relatively simple. Her mind began to calculate and map out the house, but the machinations stopped when Tristan opened the door to Zoe's room.
Esme had never been in her room before, but she could almost picture what it should've looked like. She knew that the mirror shouldn't have had a spiderweb of cracks in it, and dents along the wall where things had been thrown. She could tell that the girl in the center, crawled into a ball on the perfectly groomed carpet as tears seeped out of her eyes was supposed to be anywhere else.
Esme rushed to Zoe and crouched down to her spot on the purple carpet, attempting to wrap her thin arms around her. At this, Zoe opened her eyes which had been clenched shut.
"Wh-why are you here? D-d-did Tris invite you? Why?" Zoe stuttered, trying to get the words out through her sobs.
"I'm sorry! It's just that, one time, Miles said that she talked him through some sort of anxiety or panic attack, and I figured she could help you," Tristan explained, slowly creeping to the edges of the room.
Realization dawned on Esme, as she held Zoe tighter.
"I-I don't need h-h-help," Zoe struggled to say.
"We started talking about-"
"Don't tell her!" Zoe burst out, interrupting Tristan's nervous explanation.
"Okay, so we were talking about something, and she started having some kind of breakdown," Tristan described vaguely, cringing against the wall when Zoe let out a particularly loud sob.
"Okay, okay, Zoe. Just let it out." Esme clung to Zoe, trying to calm the girl.
Esme wasn't used to the feeling that followed, the feeling of wanting to take care of someone, along with flashes of fondness. She looked at Tristan, who had changed from the sarcastic mess of earlier. Now, he looked pale, as he stared at Zoe, fear in his eyes.
"Clean up the mess," Esme mouthed to Tristan, who seemed to be practically shaking with nervousness for his friend. At the command, Tristan began lightly picking up some of the wreckage from whatever Zoe had thrown at the mirror. Esme smiled at him, and then returned to rubbing Zoe's back. After a few more hefty sobs, Zoe began to quiet, and eventually fell asleep, emitting soft snores.
"Tristan, could you get her in her bed?" Esme whispered softy. Tristan turned to her, the fear wearing off as he crept over and slowly pulled Zoe into his arms before setting her on top of her neatly made bed. Esme smiled at Zoe, then at him, as she reclined onto the fluffy carpet.
"So, should we talk about what just, you know..." Tristan trailed off, looking uncertainly between Esme and Zoe.
"Make me some hot cocoa, and we'll talk," Esme stated, pulling herself up and slowly getting into a standing position.
Tristan nodded and made his way down the hall, soon to be followed by Esme. As Esme followed his path, she started to get a better feel for the halls, and tried to map out the paths of the house.
As they arrived in the kitchen, Esme looked around in confusion. The kitchen was particularly nice, and insanely clean for a kitchen. The oven appeared unused, and there were almost no dishes in the sink.
"They only have the microwaveable hot cocoa, is that a problem?" Tristan asked rifling through the cupboards.
"Sure, sure. I just have one question. Why is it so-"
"Empty? Zoe's mom is often off at god knows where, auditioning, so Zoe usually orders in. Well, takeout and frozen dinners," Tristan replied flippantly, as he spotted the hot cocoa mix and began the preparations.
"So, how does her mom feel about your sleepovers?" Esme asked, changing the subject with all of the subtlety she could manage. Along with this question, she made the motions to sit on the granite counter, and crossed her legs casually.
"Doesn't know, would care. For some odd reason, she is convinced that I'm desperately in love with Zoe. Doesn't want me taking advantage of her, according to Zo," Tristan began to mix the water with the brown powder, using a coffee stirrer.
Esme let out a snort, before an easy silence overtook them. Tristan finished making the cocoa, and handed her a mug emblazoned with the logo of an insurance company as he grasped the one that had the word "Tristan" painted on it's surface with glitter glue.
"Nice mug," Esme stated, as Tristan began walking through the archway into the dining room. She took a seat across from him as she began blowing on her drink.
"Yeah, we made it during our arts and crafts phase," murmured Tristan fondly, turning the cup so he could see his glittery name.
"So, Zoe," Esme began awkwardly, remembering the reason she had come.
"Zoe. Thanks, by the way, for the, you know," Tristan fumbled awkwardly.
"I've handled worse. You've never seen a breakdown until you've seen my sister after a bad breakup," Esme lied, as she lamented her single child status silently.
"Huh. It's just, Zoe's having a lot of things going on right now, so I was kind of expecting this. At least her mom wasn't here, then things would get worse," said Tristan, attempting to sip his drink, but putting it down quickly at it's burn on his tongue.
"Coming out woes?" Esme guessed, remembering the extreme tension between her and the hacker girl with blue hair.
"How did you-" Tristan sputtered.
"Call it intuition. Or basic common sense. Couple coming out with the stress of high school, and maybe a fight with the girl she's crushing on, haven't seen the gay biker around recently," Esme reasoned, trying to grasp at all the information she knew about Zoe.
"Her name's Grace. And she's straight, apparently," Tristan said bitterly.
"Really?" Esme asked, eyebrow raised as high as she could manage.
"But she only figured this out after the sex," Tristan seemed to forget all inhibitions, Esme noticed, as he delved into the full story. Esme responded properly, with raised eyebrows and eye rolls. As Tristan continued further, over-emoting, Esme began to feel a strange fondness for him, something that felt like friendship.
"I say you get her a rebound. Find some young fan girl for her to date until Grace is far from her mind," Esme stated, taking a sip of her chilly "hot" cocoa.
"No, no. I've had a rebound, and it ended terribly," Tristan replied, his eyes flashing with bad memories. It dawned on Esme, and she began to giggle.
"I remember! Vijay! That was hilarious," she said in between laughs. Tristan tried to glare at her, but eventually broke down into laughs too.
"Wait! Wait! I need you to promise that everything in this conversation never leaves this room, okay? If Zoe knows that someone else knows about her sexuality-"
"Chill. I can keep secrets. Just, avoid rebounds for the rest of your life. Please," Esme responded, falling back into her laughs.
Tristan rolled his eyes, and picked up his now-empty mug, and held his hand out to get Esme's mug. She handed him the mug, smiling wide.
"So, are you going to sleep over or leave?" Tristan asked.
"Well, I told my mom that I was sleeping over at a friend's house, so why not? I can set up camp on the couch so you can have girl time with Zoe," Esme stated as Tristan walked back into the kitchen to rinse the mugs.
"You can come upstairs, if you remember to follow me, of course," Tristan began walking, as Esme began to follow, eyes rolling.
"Wait, so are we, I don't know, friends?" Esme asked, trying to remain calm through the awkwardness.
"Friendly, I'd say. Still salty over Miles," the venom in the comments was overridden with Tristan's smile, and Esme took the answer as a tentative "yes".
As Esme followed Tristan to Zoe's room, she smiled softly, officially accepting the fondness for the pair that overtook her.