Quirin sighed looking at the painting. His expression changing from a smile to a frown. So many things he had connected to that painting. Memories, thoughts,... regrets.
No matter how much he wanted to focus on the first two, it was always the regrets that seemed to get the best of him. And how couldn't they, since he was facing them right now at the painting before him? Since he himself had put them there, when he was painting it, in the form of his wife's image?
Quirin would never forget how hard he had worked for it. For the first and last time he painted something without her. One more tiny regret to add to the pile, but it was neccesary for him and Varian. So they would have something to look at and remember her. When he was little, Varian would spend a long time (sometimes hours) staring at the painting like he was expecting something to happen. And he would always ask questions after he was done or while he was still at it.
How did you met her? What was she like? Did she love us? Why isn't she here with us? Where is she now?
Why are her eyes closed?
While the answers he was giving him had touches of truth, they were mainly made of lies and silence, and while he thought they would be enough until the right time, Varian made it clear today that they weren't.
Truth be told, Varian had never really given any signs that he was content with them, but he hadn't made a fuss out of it. The only answer he seemed to actually accept was the one about the reason why his Mother's eyes were painted closed. Quirin had said that it was because he had very few blue paint and it was not enough, explaining also why Varian's image was painted with closed eyes. And even though his son had offered to make some paint himself, he declined the offer claiming that he would have to start from scratch. Not the best answer (excuse), but at least Varian believed it.
What else was he supposed to say? That he had tried to paint her eyes, but he couldn't? That this was because whenever he was trying to even picture them his hand would start shaking and he would lose his focus? And all of this because whenever he was trying he could feel her final gaze of light blue cut through his heart like a knife? Cold and sharp. Full of agony and pain and sadness... and fear.
Bridget had always been brave. Perhaps braver than he, or anyone else or even she herself knew. But still, how brave can someone be when they are face to face with the inevitable?
Quirin would know, for he had been there and back again many times himself and he would be lying if he said that it wasn't scary. But if there was something that was scaring him even more, it was the thought of seeing that very same fear in another beloved pair of light blue eyes.
This thought was always haunting him since that horrible day, the day he told his son that he didn't want to relive. One more lie. He had failed at that a long time ago. He had already relived that day more times than he could count, today being one of them and probably one of the absolute worst.
Today he thought he'd lose his son not one, not two, but three times. Could he be more incompetent than that? Today they were both lucky, they both made it through and Varian was safe in his room in the end, but would they be this lucky the next time?
The next time... what would happen? What was really in store for them now? Where would they go from where this day's events had lead them?
The basement will be off limits... And you will never work with alchemy ever again.
Along with his words, came to his mind the look on Varian's face. Shocked and confused with a hint of hurt and fear. And after that, devastation and despair hanging from a plea in an attempt to make him take these words back.
That was something Quirin really wished he could do, even though he knew that he had no other choice. In all honesty, he was never really suportive of his son's interest in alchemy and many times he had tried to dissuade him from it, but Varian just couldn't let it go. It was a part of who he was, his passion, what allowed him to live. And despite the fact that his experiments were backfiring many times, Quirin had to admit that his son had managed to create some pretty fascinating things. Like some chemicals that could be used as light sources when shaken, and those stickbombs he had crafted to keep pests at bay. But unfortunately, successes like these were not as usual as the accidents. And they would still attract unwanted attention. Varian always believed that things would be easier if they... if he wasn't hiding, that people would be impressed by what he could do, what he had to offer. And Quirin had tried many times to believe it too. But he knew that he couldn't, no matter how hard he would try.
Even if the world would indeed be accepting and impressed by Varian's gift, they'd still have something bigger to face. And with the world knowing about Varian, it would be harder for Quirin to keep him safe from it. He couldn't take any chances with this.
Wrong.
He couldn't take any more chances with this. He had already taken too much, from the day his son showed interest in alchemy until today.
That was strange. On the one hand he was thinking that this was wrong. That since he couldn't dissuade Varian's interest in alchemy, he had failed from the start. But on the other hand, he could see how happy, how complete, how alive he looked doing anything that was about his gift, from creating a chemical compound to simply trying to explain to him with every single detail how he would craft it and what it would do. Though the reason was kinda unusual (since Quirin didn't know many children who would have interests like Varian's), his son was depicting all his life the typical enthusiasm and joy every child was, if not more than that. And this was actually something that the man had promised that he would give to his son from day one: a normal life. Well, as normal as it could be.
But over time, he was forced to change that promise, for he couldn't give him a normal life. Instead, he would make sure that his life would be as normal as possible for as long as possible. Because (unfortunately) he wouldn't be able to shield him from the truth forever. Another big problem.
Varian didn't want to be shielded. He wanted the truth. The truth he had every right to know, but was not ready to. It was too soon for him to know, he was only fourteen. If he learned the truth, like he wanted, there would be no turning back to the way things were until now. Everything would change and they weren't ready for those changes.
They?
You said I'm not ready for the truth... Am I really not ready to hear it... or are you just not ready to tell me?...Why did I expect something more?
Varian's final words before he vanished into his room echoed in Quirin's mind.
He suddenly opened his eyes. He had fallen to his knees, still standing before the painting. When did he do that? When and how did he end up kneeled to the floor without noticing? Did he drift into his thoughts so much that he forgot where he was? And when did he close his eyes? Why did he suddenly feel his body so heavy?
He ran a gloved hand through his dark hair, taking a deep breath, before standing up again. The picture of the baby in the painting the first thing he saw standing up.
The baby was giggling.
That was all he was doing back then. Other babies were crying when born, but Varian as soon as he first came to the world burst into giggling. That was a big surprise. A pleasant one without a doubt.
The baby had a small blue streak in his hair.
He had it since birth and it became more distinctive as time passed. That was another surprise, but it matched his eyes.
The baby was growing up and he was right.
While Quirin was certain without the tiniest doupt that his son was not ready to know yet, he knew that neither he was ready to tell him. He was afraid. Afraid of the changes, afraid of the dangers they'd bring guaranteed, afraid of Varian's reaction...
Normaly, he'd still keep the truth a secret. Anyone who would be in his place would do that. But... aside from all of this... no... next to all of this, another problem was appearing: Varian's trust was breaking. That actually shouldn't surprise the man that much. Varian had told so himself: How could he trust him when he was keeping secrets from him? Still though, this couldn't happen. He needed his trust. Without it, would he be able to convince him to help him pack when it would be neccesary to move again? Would he be able to go to job next time there'd be a problem without having to worry that he would come after him? Also, the fact that some time ago he forbade him from doing the thing he loved to do the most did not help the situation at all.
He couldn't let this happen, but he couldn't think of anything to prevent it either. Except...
No! Not that! He wasn't going to think of that again! It was just too soon! Too soon... Now it was too soon. But if it went for the worst and his son stopped trusting him, then... then it would probably be too late next time.
Quirin let out another sigh, as he turned his gaze to the window.
The moon was hanging into the darkness of the sky. Majestic and bright, shining above the realm, watching over everyone and everything through this time of darkness, the glimmering stars, spread all over the dark blue, assistants to this duty. The moon was a full moon. Complete and clean. Having nothing to hide.
Whether he liked it or not, whether he was ready or not, Quirin had to be like it now. If he wanted to save Varian's trust from breaking... he had to tell him.
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