The watch pleading on Lancer's wrist twinkled in his eye, a tear reflecting it. But whether or not it was a tear of laughter or a tear of blackened regret at the prospect of going home, he didn't know. He didn't quite want to know. But his smile grew wider, wider than the depths of the Fountain, the same Fontaine of his childhood. He'd been baptized in that fountain when he was a baby, not shying away the dark for anything. He'd played in that babbling fountain with Rouxls, back when the both of them had nothing better to pass time with. He couldn't count the times he'd ran his fingers down the banisters, clutching the soft fabric with the spades design to his chest. When his father developed one of his moods, that was all. The flag was the only gentle thing.
He knew it was dinnertime, but his stomach was overflowing with laughter, overflowing with the prospect of new visitors, silent "Alleluia"s bouncing all over his brain, cracking, fermenting in the kaleidoscope of his mind.
Susie came, racing towards Lancer, perhaps meaning only to tap him, but toppling him over instead. All of the cuts, all of the whips covering his body stung again, the bees returning. The commissioner had ordered "safe materials", but cement and stone? Stone and cement?
"Hehe… gotcha, Lance."
Lancer was motionless. Being motionless was better than curling up, better than rolling over and letting Susie see the fugitive tears gathering near his eyes. Besides, the Church had already taught him about situations like this, that suffering was redemptive. That suffering was one of the best things anyone could undertake. It was the Darkners yearned for in small spoonfuls. Maybe, maybe, if his cuts hurt just enough, his father could be even happier… His father deserved to be happy. Ruling a kingdom left dinner plates under the King's eyes and his steps trembling a little, and Lancer couldn't help but imagine the merry-go-round of the King's mind…
His father deserved to be happy.
The bees stung.
"Lance? God, ya wimp…"
He heard a chuckle afterwards, which was more than a good enough sign for him to rise up, limbs shaking, to smile back. The foundations were still skewed in his smile, the stinging still there. There she was. Susie Williams, in all of her glory. Ready to take down anyone in her path, all the while carrying a baby on the top of her head. He loved her for that. Maybe that was how an older sister was supposed to be…
"Hey, Suze, I took pictures of what we did today, wanna see?"
"Hell, yeah." Susie scooted on Steed, almost knocking over the kickstand. She toppled backwards before catching her right hand on the handlebar, Lancer almost knocking his phone down to reach her. Pushing herself up with one hand, extending the other in a "no, that's alright" gesture. She smiled in her own unease, and it was then and only then that Lancer saw her smile, how it glinted in the light of Lancer's phone. Of course, it'd been bought for him when he was at the ripe old age of four, replaced every year with the newer model. Not that he'd asked for, or desired for, any of that, of course. Susie leaned forward, purple hair dangling over Lancer's shoulder, craning to see...
…
"Hey."
"Hey, what?"
"I'm gonna thrash you."
"Oh, yeah? I wanna see you try, small fry."
"Small fry?! Small fry?! I'm gonna show you who's-"
All of the rest was drowned out by attacks, by a flurry of autumn leaves, by spades flying in the fringes of the perpetual night, met by Susie's axe, Ralsei's songs, and Kris' utter nothingness. A poem, one of Ralsei's, in perfect harmony, all backdropped by the cacophony of the sky.
If only Ralsei could be here to write a poem about this.
…
Ralsei drifted, back and forth, hanging off of one of the trees. Lancer had taught him that move, a terrifying spat considering Lancer's acrophobia. In a fit of giddiness, Ralsei let himself, his wizard's-hat hang upside down, eating the candy off of the tree, one by one. Lancer knew he couldn't have any… he knew how fat he would get if he ate even one of those… and so he planted his MP3 player, the only antique, battered, item he owned, loaned from an ordinary seller from an ordinary duchy.
Led Zeppelin screamed, for all the world to hear, and Ralsei's paralyzed glance of shock was enough for the rest of his body to fall off the tree.'
Lancer was there to catch him, though, as reluctant as Ralsei was to admit it.
But it was Krid who actually caught him.
What was the word Susie had taught him?
Reticent.
Maybe it was a good thing to be that way.
…
The two of them were alone. The Fun Gang had officially split into two, although a dangerously giddy knowledge stayed that the gang was still united. Lancer tried to be intimidating, and there was still no harm in trying…
The two of them were...scared , somewhat, although what they were afraid of they couldn't quite tell each other. Lancer knew this in the way both him and Susie bit their lips in the same way, rocked back and forth in the same way, darted their eyes left to right in the same way. Lancer knew the secret, eating up the both of them, each secret too terrible to tell. Practically everyone was taught how to tell a lie, how to see when someone else was telling one, for "political purposes". But most importantly, they were told how to tell a secret.
So Lancer tried to ask one of his own.
"Hey, you…"
Susie nodded. Tried sharpening her axe on one of the stones dislodged, scattered about from the royal roads, even though she did little more than bang the poor axebit against the stone. Lancer almost said something, but bit his tongue. Susie didn't, although her voice was a perpetual mumble.
"Yeah, Lance?"
"You…
youwannajoinmyfanclubiknowiknowit'sawkwardandiknowishouldstopohjeezohjeezi'msorry-"
"Stop." For the first time, Lancer could hear her smile, hear her smile in a different way then when she was just laughing. Smiling in the way that… a mother could. Of course, the only mother Lancer knew was the Holy Mother Catholic Church, but there was always this impression he would feel whenever he saw a baby being held, a teenager and her mother going out for ice cream.
"Alright, Lance. Start from the beginning. I don't speak Mumble." The words were clearer than this time, not as muttered, as if they'd been… practiced before. In front of a mirror. Lancer knew how it sounded. He'd been to far too many royal plays to not know how it sounded.
"Suze."
A deep breath, the cuts only complaining at the breath's peak.
"Suze, I… you know how, um, some public schools have a fan club, and it's all around one person? Well, I have that sort of club. It's called...um… the Lancer Fan Club. And I don't have any members other than me. But it's fun, and spacious, and we can listen to MP3 songs, and you'll get to enjoy thrashing me, and I'll get to enjoy thrashing you right back!"
Susie laughed, deeper than she did ever before, scaring one of the poor insects into running down a crack in the road. Or that could have been because of her as axe, dropping to the ground in a chin-ANG! "Well...yeah. I'll join. 'Thrashing' you, Lancer? What exactly are you implying there, 'bud'?"
Lancer stuck his tongue out, curled his face as if eating a lemon, making the loudest "Bleaaaaaugh!" he could possibly muster. He was only twelve, and although he wasn't hidden from topics such as this, he wasn't quite exposed to them on a daily basis, either. He squirmed, moved away from Susie, who snickered and punched- no, she slowed down her fist. She tapped him.
"Sorry, Lance. So much time in a public school, y'know? I'm in the seventh grade, so kids aren't exactly squeaky- clean. Except for this one kid...not Kris...she… ah, forget about it. Anyways, if people see a boy and a girl together, no matter what in the world they're doing, they'll think it's some sort of 'deep, lovey- dovey, smooch- smooch' sort of thing."
"Blech" was all Lancer could say. "Blech, blech, blechy- bleck. Ick." (He let his French roam free here, making it more of a, "Blake, blake, blakey- blake. Eek.")
"You're damn right, Lance." Susie set down her axe, looked into the grass as if trying to find its inner workings. "Blechy- ick."
…
"Sun's setting, Lance."
The phone died, and the icon that was the Chaos King's phone number, ringing in to call Lancer at this time of day, faded. All of the anticipation in Lancer boiled to a halt, and the phone became a ghostly, ghastly weight in Lancer's hands. Steed begged Lancer to start, but the nausea screamed for him not to.
"Y- yeah, Suze, I know."
"You sure you don't need a walk home?"
That voice was deeper this time, deeper than Susie's voice could ever hope to achieve. The son of God himself, Sahn the skeleton, appeared on the other side, the eye a flashlight again. Susie hissed, put the axe in front of her face. Before anyone could say anything, the bones lit up in a studded, stunning array around Sans' body, the anger ridding his eye of any trace of friendship Lancer saw in him during that day in the hotel. Blue and yellow danced in the cracks of the road, Sans' panting drowning out Susie's. Lancer yelled, darted. His voice carried all of the power of the Chaos King, but none of the fury.
"Sahn, stop. She's not going to attack you. She's just...scared. Just like you."
The bones were a foot, only a foot away from the axe by the time Sans found the weight inside of him to force his hand down. Lancer could see him shudder, although he wasn't sure what he was shuddering about, what time in his life he was shuddering about. Perhaps he was shuddering about the fact that people would beg for heaps of paperwork for a fight out in public- no. Lancer wasn't that high-minded...or naïve.
But Susie wasn't stopping, not if any of her dedication could help it. She lunged. Bounding towards him, the axebit resting on his chest. Before anyone could breathe, she started to put weight on the axe. The flashlight-eye stayed unwavering.
"Susie! Susie, listen to me, you have to stop!"
Lancer could barely feel his hands lunging, grabbing the axe. He could see the flashing eyes darting- gazing- a child in the eyes of a brazen mother, a veritable Jesus, carved as a babe in the arms of Mary back at the cathedral near the castle. Sans' own eyes froze, paralyzed...but cleverness, a fleeting, unflinching sluff of cleverness, mixed with a fair bit of calm, lifted his hand that lifted the axe off of his chest.
"Woah, woah, woah, guys. I like fights, but everybody needs to calm... down. Nobody who's a part of my fanclub gets hurt, and the son of God definitely doesn't get hurt."
"Wait, son of God, Lance?"
"Wait, 'fanclub'?"
Lancer sat down, face twisting, as if a string webbed across his mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, the bees stung even there. Even there, and the nights came back for a moment, only a moment, and the faces of Suzie and Sans' slept away, swept away, for a moment, only a moment. The nights with Lancer and the Chaos King together, hand in bruised hand, summoned a monster even Sans himself couldn't contain.
"Lancer? Lancer, what fanclub?"
Reality punched him in the face, but it refreshed him so he was almost eager to go back, just so he could feel that punch again.
Back to reality.
"Alright. Alright. Let's start from the beginning. Susie, Sahn is from...I don't know where...but he's super cool! He's the funniest guy you'll ever meet, and he loves Led Zeppelin! He's a whiz! And Sahn, this is Susie. Also super cool in her own way. She's super strong, and she's very, very purple. She also loves being evil, and she also loves to have fun, and fight, and-"
Susie's hand, gloved, covered with alligator- scales from her great grandfather, a soldier, shook Sans' hand. There was no whoopie cushion this time, nothing that defied or deviated.
"Not bad, Susie. Not bad fighting at all."
"Some son of God you are. But nice style. I can keep you around."
But the night couldn't keep Lancer around. They couldn't keep him any more than the traces of the day, the slight brevity in the darkness that lifted the fog from the roads. The "see you guys tomorrow" became less of a promise and more of a thread hanging in the air as home, as the castle, came around the edges, the telltale light being open in the throne room's window.
His father was home.
