I got chapter seven up! Wooh! *punches the air* I'm on a roll! All right! XD So anyways, in this chapter we look into Wirt's past, specifically his father leaving him and his mother, and yeah. This is what I think happened, and anybody who disagrees can just walk on out of here.
A lot of people have their own ideas and theories and headcanons on Wirt's past. I respect that, and I want to contribute to the OtGW fandom. I'm pretty sure there are other kids out there like Wirt who can relate to this. And, uh, well, heh, I don't know. *blushes* I'll be honest, I didn't think I'd be writing Wirt's backstory in this chapter, but here it is.
Well, like always; enjoy the story and don't forget to review. ;)
The late afternoon rolled on as Wirt sat in his bed, a pensive look on his face. He furrowed his brow as he looked at a photograph he was holding. It was an old picture of him with his father. He was seven years old at the time; Greg wasn't even born yet. Wirt remembered that day. He was spending the summer with his father that time, and her, his new wife. He and his father spend time going out to eat, going swimming at the pool, going camping, going out to the movies. He had fond memories of him but that didn't change what he did to his mother, and to him.
Wirt gazed over at the sun shining through his open window. An unfeeling light, that's what it was to him. He wasn't changing his mind and he meant it. He needed to be there for Greg. His father could go another year without him. It's not like he was losing anything.
A tap on the window awakened him from his fog. He looked over and almost fainted. Ereyon was at the window, wings beating and a concerned look on his face. Wirt jumped out of bed in a panic and opened the window.
"What are you doing here?" Wirt rasped, hoping no one would hear him. He looked behind Ereyon, at the street. No one was outside, and if they were, they would no doubt about see an angel hovering by his window.
"I wanted to come see if you were all right," said Ereyon. "You haven't come to see me in two days."
Wirt didn't have the time nor the energy to explain it. He just needed to keep Ereyon from being spotted.
"Come inside," he said, moving inside.
Ereyon stepped on the sill and carefully crawled through the window, keeping his wings folded. Once inside, Wirt closed the door and drew the curtains. He saw that Ereyon still had on his angel outfit. Wirt thought he would've put on the clothes he found for him, but he guessed he wanted to keep wearing them to remind himself of Heaven.
"Did you fly all the way here?" Wirt questioned. "In broad daylight? Did anyone see you?"
"No," replied Ereyon. "I turned invisible before I took off."
Wirt was still upset, but nonetheless appeased. He turned around and walked back to his bed, the photo of him and his father still out in the open. He had to hide it before Ereyon saw it. Sitting down, he sighed as he picked up the photo, not caring if the angel saw it or not. Ereyon's senses picked up his distress.
"Sorry I haven't come to see you." Wirt said, not looking the redheaded angel. "I couldn't keep coming home late and I needed to focus on school."
"It's all right," replied Ereyon. "Your needs come first and I'm glad to see you're doing well."
Wirt nodded, a pensive look on his face. That was when the angel noticed him holding something.
"What's that you're holding?," he asked, pointing at the photo in Wirt's hands.
"This," he began, "it's...uh..."
Ereyon watched him tentatively.
Well, you wanted tell him. Now's your chance.
"It's a picture of me...," he see-sawed with this next part, "...and my real dad."
Ereyon raised a brow, not understanding. Wirt motioned for him to come over and the angel traipsed up to him and sat next him on the bed. Wirt showed him the photo: it was of Wirt when he was a child and a man, his father, who had light brown hair and hazel eyes. Ereyon noted some features between Wirt and his father. Primarily the faces: both angular.
"His name's Derek," said Wirt. "Derek Garner."
"And...he's..."
"Not dead." That's probably what Ereyon would've wanted, but fortunately for him it wasn't. "I should've clarified this, but Greg and I are half-brothers."
Again, Ereyon didn't understand what that meant. Wirt knew it was time to be honest.
"My parents got divorced when I was five," said Wirt. "My dad...he...cheated on mom..."
Ereyon raised a brow.
"It means he fell for another woman," clarified Wirt, hoping he would understand. He saw that it worked, so he continued. "Her name is Sybil, and she's my...stepmother. She has two kids with him, James and Aubrey. They're my half-brother and sister." He felt a lump in his throat, but he had to keep talking. "I don't know what else to tell you, except that I'm probably the only kid I know with a messed up family."
"I wouldn't say you're the first, but...," began Ereyon, but stopped and decided to hold his tongue.
"Aw yeah?" Wirt arched an eyebrow. The redheaded angel didn't speak up. Wirt knew when it was time to call it quits.
"Continue with what you were saying," spoke Ereyon suddenly. Wirt looked at him, flummoxed.
"Seriously?"
The angel nodded. "Of course."
"You really wanna hear me talk about my life story?"
"Definitely."
"Fine. If that's what you want." Wirt breathed in. "I..." He paused. Memories flooded his head and made him feel lightheaded. "Maybe tomorrow. I don't feel up to it now." He sat up straighter, resting his chin on his knees. "Tomorrow's the last day of school, I'll tell you everything you want to know."
"Very well," replied Ereyon. "I'll wait for you tomorrow, then. I don't want to pressure you into talking about something very personal all at once."
"Also, um," said Wirt, "how are you doing over there in the cabin?"
"I'm alright," answered the angel.
"You want me to come over some time?" Wirt asked. "It'll be summer break anyways, so I might as well keep you company."
"I would like that."
"Where do you wanna meet?" Wirt asked. "Do you want to wait for me in the cemetery, or do want me to walk all the way to the cabin or something?"
Ereyon thought about it for a moment. "Why don't I come back here tomorrow?"
"Are you sure?" Wirt reiterated. "Mom's going to wonder why you're here uninvited."
"... Well, you're right about that."
"Listen, wait for me by the cemetery gates, we'll take a walk from there." Wirt explained.
"Grand idea!," hooted Ereyon. Wirt chortled.
"Okay," said Wirt, "we'll meet up tomorrow." He flopped back on his bed, his brushing Ereyon's wings. The angel folded them tightly against his back. "You wanna sleep over, or do you want to go back to the cabin?"
Ereyon chuckled. "No, I'll be fine. I've got the animals to keep me company." He stood up and traipsed towards the window.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," said Wirt, watching him open the window.
"I'll be waiting," retorted Ereyon. He looked at the redheaded angel leap from the window, hearing a flap from his wings. He rose up and walked towards the window to catch sight of Ereyon. Surprisingly, Wirt didn't see him flying overhead of the houses. He must've made himself invisible. And good thinking, too. He couldn't imagine the reactions from people spotting a red-winged angel in broad daylight. Maybe someday, but not today.
Wirt made the silent walk to the cemetery. It was summer vacation. School was over, he should be happy, but having to keep Ereyon's existence a secret was the hard part. While at school he finally came up with a list of believable excuses to tell people they might run into. He planned on showing it to Ereyon once their conversation was over. And that was another thing.
Why did Ereyon want to know more about him? Wasn't knowing his name enough? But when it comes to meeting new people he had to tell them everything. Maybe not everything, just leave out the traumatic parts. Nobody needed to know that. It was none of their business. They didn't need to know. In a couple of decades, everyone would either remember him or forget him. There would be a handful of people who would remember him, including himself. Wirt often wondered who would remember him. If his graphic novelist career takes off, he would be remembered. Thinking logically, his graphic novel ideas were good, but were they best-selling good? He'd heard talk about writers who cheat and plagiarize and there are some who worked their hands to the bone to get to where they are. Wirt was the former. Escaping a near-death experience wasn't something to sneer at. If anyone believed that. He was going to to keep that to himself, and perhaps exercise it through his novels.
He entered the cemetery gates, tearing away from his brooding. Wirt peered inside. The groundskeeper wasn't nearby, but neither was Ereyon. He figured he turned himself invisible and would appear to Wirt when he stepped into the cemetery. Hoping for the best, he walked in.
"Ereyon?" Wirt called out. He made sure not to be too loud to be overheard.
He heard a branch snap in half. Wirt glanced up and spotted a familiar redhead.
"Wirt," uttered Ereyon. His wings were unfurled, but not for long.
"Hey," said Wirt. He watched him roll up his sleeves and remove his silver cuffs. The wings disappeared. Wirt knew the drill, so he removed his backpack, unzipped the pocket and Ereyon dropped them in. Zipping the pocket closed, he and the redhead ambled up the gates.
"Where are we going?" Ereyon asked.
"I've got an idea on that," said Wirt.
They exited the cemetery and the went down the left path. Wherever they were going, Ereyon was ready to see it and was glad his wings were not visible at the moment. There were some children passing by on the sidewalk. None of them noticed or saw Ereyon; all of them lost in their euphoria. His interest piqued when he saw some landmarks that were new to him. He and Wirt crossed the street and continued down that way until they reach an intersection. They headed down the left.
There were no suburban houses here but there were a few shops. Ereyon looked in the windows they passed. He could make out that by looking at them one was a barbershop; the one next to it was a bank; the next one a pawnbroker's shop; and the next one a jewelry store. Wirt and Ereyon walked two more blocks until they reached their destination. The place they reached was a coffee shop. "The Express-O Joint," it said in white letters against a brown plaque above the door. It was moderately busy inside, there were only about seven customers and only about five workers.
"You okay if I order you an iced coffee?," asked Wirt.
"Oh, um, yes," replied Ereyon.
Wirt ordered two hazelnut iced coffee. He and Ereyon found an empty table by the window. Ereyon was wary about trying this drink but after a sip he realized he liked it.
"It's hard for me to talk about this," said Wirt after a moment of thinking. "When I tell people Greg is my half-brother, everyone begins asking intrusive questions. 'What happened to your father?' 'Did he die?' 'He's alive and he has another family?' 'Do you ever get jealous of all the attention your other siblings get?'" He took a sip of his coffee. "It's hard enough waking up knowing what he did to my mother." He looked down at the floor. "I don't know if this matters, but I sometimes get the feeling my stepmother doesn't like me that much."
"What makes you say that?" Ereyon inquired.
"Well," began Wirt, "at first, when I used to visit, she was nice to me. Or maybe she was just faking it for my father's sake and because I was younger then. It's funny how the things my father did to help the family ultimately broke us apart."
Ereyon blinked. He wasn't sure how to respond to that, or to even respond at all. All he knew was that Wirt was deeply troubled by his past.
"I," said Wirt, but paused to sip his coffee. "I...I've been carrying this weight around for as long as can remember." He looked down at the floor before peering out the window. "I used to visit him over the summer. I haven't seen him in four years and he still tries to come up with some excuse to get me to see him, but it doesn't work. I have to think of Greg and his sake."
"That does sound complicated." Ereyon said. "How does your brother feel about this?"
"We told him two years ago," responded Wirt, churning the ice with his straw. "I told him first, then Mom did. Greg's the reason I stopped visiting my dad. He gets jealous. He thinks I like James and Aubrey more than him. But I don't. I haven't seen them in four years, as far as I know, they've probably forgotten me. Either that, or dad still asks mom about me and my grades and whatnot."
"Sounds like he misses you," stated Ereyon.
Wirt shrugged. "I miss him too, but I...I don't want to see him. It's just...now's not the right time."
"Do you want to see him?"
"I want to, but...I've got a lot going on. Not to mention trying to get people off my back for everything they've flung at me. Asking me if I wish things were different. Because I don't wish things were different. I like myself the way I am. I know who I am." He took a long swig of iced coffee. "Besides, I'm sixteen now, two years from now I'll be eighteen: officially an adult. I'll be out on my own then." Then, as a joke, Wirt uttered, "Don't suppose you can go back in time and fix everything?"
"Incidentally, I can," relied Ereyon automatically, "but I can't change your past nor can I rewrite it."
"Didn't think so." Wirt chuckled.
"But I can help you in changing your future."
"Well that sounds promising."
"You have so much potential, Wirt," said Ereyon. "You have such talent. Anyone would be jealous of you."
"Really?" Wirt blushed. "You're not just saying that?"
"Oh no, I am truly honest," proclaimed Ereyon. "There's so much ahead of you. And you'll get there."
"On my own?"
"With everyone who's close to you."
Wirt blushed so hard he had turn away in the hopes that no one would notice.
"Well, now that I've gotten some of that out, I'd to run some things by you." Wirt said as soon as he recovered.
"What is it?" Ereyon took a sip of the hazelnut iced coffee.
Wirt opened his backback and pulled out a spiral notebook. He opened it to the final pages in the back.
"I've come up with a list," said Wirt, skimming through his notebooks. "A list of explanations to tell my friends about you and why you're staying."
"Oh really?" Ereyon was all ears after that. "Mind telling me?"
"That's what it's for." He looked down at his notebook. "The first thing I came up with was telling them that you're a relative from out of town."
Ereyon's smile gradually faded. "That might prove a problem, seeing how I don't look like you at all."
"We'll say you were adopted, then," retorted Wirt. He looked at his notes again. "Okay...how do you feel about being homeschooled?"
"Why?"
"Because I wrote that down as part of the coverup."
"Go right ahead then." Ereyon then remembered. "What about your parents? What if they want to come over to your house and I'm there, what are they going to tell them?"
"That's where you come in."
"Pardon?"
"I know you probably can, but I wanted to ask anyways," said Wirt. Nervously, he asked, "Can angels manipulate people's memories?"
Ereyon fell silent.
"We...we can," he replied after a full minute of silence. "But I don't feel right doing this."
"I knew you'd say that." Wirt sat back, dropping the notebook on the table. The redhead took a peek at the open page. Even upside down he could read what they said. All of them were believable excuses for Ereyon being here. But none of them seemed to go with him. It looked as though eye in would never agree to any lie.
He heard Wirt sigh and he got ready to answer whatever he was about say.
"Well, we're at a dead end," he said, "guess we'll just have to sneak around and avoid anyone who knows me."
The redhead looked away, unable to face him. He could feel the grueling rage boiling inside Wirt. It was like a storm, but he couldn't do anything. He may have been on earth for a few days, but he couldn't stand to see him upset, but he could break his vow as an angel. Ereyon didn't like going against the rules, but he fell from Heaven and he knew it. He wasn't in Heaven anymore, he could change things here if wanted. Even reveal his wings in this cafe. Forgetting all the things he was taught, Ereyon sucked in a breath and spoke.
"I..." He needed to make this sound right. "I'll manipulate your parents' memories in front of your friends...if you promise me something."
Wirt's eyes blinked. He didn't know what to say at first. But there was something in Ereyon's voice that made him see he was being serious. Without another thought he said, "Of course, anything. What do you want me to promise?"
"I haven't thought of it yet," responded Ereyon.
"Well, there's no rush." Wirt said. He picked up his notebook, closing it. "I don't know if we'll need this or not, but I'm going to keep it just in case."
Ereyon forced a smile.
Wirt stood up. "I'm going to order a cannoli. Do you want one?"
"Yes, thank you."
The sun fell asleep, shielded behind the trees. The colors: bold, rich and brilliant. Its rays seem friendly, like a friend waving goodbye. You know they are departing, but you know you will see them again. That was what Wirt thought as he walked alongside Ereyon to the forest. He and the angel, with his red wings folded against his back, walked on the train tracks. He put his cuffs back on as soon as they reached the cemetery. The two reached the end of the train tracks, and this was their cue to jump off.
"Are you sure you'll be alright on you own?" Wirt.
"I'll be fine," replied Ereyon.
"Sorry, I just forget that you're an angel." Wirt scratched the back of his neck.
Ereyon smiled. "It's all right. You care and I like that about you."
Wirt looked to the trail ahead. "Well, I can only go with you until we see the entrance to the forest. After that, I'll have to go back."
"I really wish I don't make you come all this way." Ereyon stated.
"Nah, don't beat yourself up. I actually wanted to come."
"Will you come back tomorrow?"
"Sure, I'll see what I can do."
The two continued on their walk. It was mostly spent in silence, none of them spoke, though Wirt wanted to break the ice, but he ventured he talked enough for today. It wasn't as if Ereyon didn't not want to talk, but there were so few topics to talk about. Most of the things on his mind were human manners and etiquette, the fear of being dragged back to Heaven, and his status of an angel being revealed and how Wirt's friends would react. If Wirt could see into his mind, he would surely be overwhelmed with his head spinning and ears stinging. It drained Ereyon as well.
Fifteen minutes into their walk, Wirt saw the treeline, the path he took to get to the forest that fateful night. This was his cue.
"This is as far as can I go," he said. "You can go on from here."
"Thank you for joining me, Wirt." Ereyon beamed.
"It was my pleasure." Wirt gripped his backpack straps. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"I'll be waiting."
Wirt turned around and waved to Ereyon, who in turn waved back. With a smile, Wirt turned to the road and made his walk back to the train tracks.
Jumping over the stone wall was becoming a breeze to Wirt. He figured he'd be doing it a lot, so he thought he'd better get used to it. He looked all around the cemetery, at the tombstones, in between them, and at the few scattered trees here and there. He decided it was time to do something he should've done a while ago. Retrieve the book he bought for Ereyon.
He usually saw the groundskeeper appear from somewhere in the west part of the cemetery. Grabbing his bearings, Wirt sighed and walked. Wirt never thought of it before, but he thought of the groundskeeper's house being located in the cemetery. He never seen it before, but he might as well brace himself. If he could come up with a good enough excuse, then maybe he'll be lenient in Wirt's punishment. Maybe he'll think he forgot the book, but then Wirt thought the man would see through his lies and call him out. He was stressing himself out with all these manic thoughts and it would just spiral out of control from there until he was dried out.
He saw the house in the distance. Wirt was expecting something more grand, but it was just a normal two-story suburban house painted white with a grey roof. There was an oak tree beside the house's right side. Now that he was approaching the house he might as well get it over and done with. He was ready for whatever the groundskeeper was going to shout at him. Wirt might as well deserve it.
He stepped onto the porch. Breathing in a sigh, he knocked on the door. He heard heavy thudding coming from the other side of the door. Wirt braced himself, balling his fists. The door swung open from the inside and the boy was face to face with the groundskeeper. He looked to be pushing sixty, with a prominent thinning hairline, noticeable bags under his eyes, and his skin wrinklier than any old sheet. He was dressed in his uniform, Wirt figured he forgot to change or he didn't have time. By the look on his face he appeared to be in no mood for company.
"Hi, uh..." Wirt was already enraptured with nerves and he didn't even muster a sentence longer than ten words. "I, uh, you see, I, um..." He paused again, seeing the man's patience wearing thin. He might as well make it quick. "I'm here to get the book you found."
"So you're the one who got into the Simmons' mausoleum?" The man's voice was gravelly and it was enough to instill panic in Wirt.
"Yes!," blurted Wirt, fists balled. His heart was beating so fast it might as well explode. "Yeah. I was there. I was reading to the Simmons and then it got late and—and—"
"Relax, boy," said the groundskeeper. "I'll get you yer book, if you promise not to leave it lying around."
"Oh thank you so much." Wirt breathed out, his heartbeat returning back to normal. He waited for the man to return with the book. Well, that went well. This is actually not so bad.
Minutes later, the man returned with the book in his hands and a serious look on his face. He handed the book to Wirt, but before he could hand it to him, he spout out another remark.
"Don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking around," said the man.
Wirt looked as though he swallowed his own tongue. He thought he was doing a good job of avoiding noticed, but apparently he was caught faster than a fish on a reel. The groundskeeper was getting on in years, but his wit was sharper than any knife he could find in any drawer.
"Just what are you doing sneaking around here?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing my boot. I've seen you jumping over the wall and back."
Wirt grabbed at his backpack straps. A lump formed in his throat. His chest tightened. He looked in every direction, anywhere to avoid looking at the man's judging eyes. Wirt wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
"Tell ya what," said the man. He handed the book to Wirt, which surprised him altogether. "There's a shortcut to the forest behind my house. You can use it, so long as you don't try doing any funny business in the cemetery. I get enough vandalism as it is."
"Thank you." Wirt held the book to his chest. "Thank you so much, sir."
"Call me Lyle," retorted the old man.
"Thank you, Lyle."
"Anytime, lad," said Lyle, chuckling. "Now you go on home, ya whippersnapper."
"Okay."
Wirt turned around and ran. Today hadn't gone so bad: he talked to Ereyon about his last, well for the most part; school was out; and he got The Spellchild back for Ereyon to finish. Everything seemed to be going great.
He had been running like never before. Soon the mausoleum—the Simmons' mausoleum—the mausoleum Ereyon had been hiding in—was in plain view. Wirt knew he wouldn't be coming back here anymore, now that Ereyon hid in the forest. His fears were melting away.
As soon as he raced out the iron gates, something unusual happened. A surprisingly strong breeze blew in, not catching Wirt's attention, who had already forgotten about today's fiascos. From behind one of the trees, a figure emerged. He was dressed in a black trench coat that covered most of his matching black outfit: black top, black slacks, and black boots. His alabaster skin giving off an unearthly glow despite the setting sun. His dominating features were the chestnut wings, the same color as his hair that cascaded down his shoulders like a straight curtain. He looked at the gate through narrow amber eyes.
He knew he would be seeing more of Wirt in the following days to come.
Looks like a newcomer's making their way into this story. I cant wait to start writing chapter eight. ^_^
