Hello3 This was supposed to be a one shot, but I need more words to tell this story about some moments of Nightingale's life. It will manly focus on his relationship with David, but we'll have soe Starlingale later!
I hope you will like it! We begin with a little memory of his teenage years. Have fun!
Chapter 1: Discoveries
1915
It thunders loudly and Thomas decides that he wouldn't be able to finish the math homework today anyway. There's something very satisfying about closing the old tome loudly and leaving behind all the stupid formulae for calculating for that night. Again, there is thunder outside and Thomas glances at the window. The rain has been drumming relentlessly against the glass for hours. Now he looks around in the dormitory, none of the other boys seem to worry about the raging storm outside, in fact nobody even takes notice when the next lightning bolts across the sky.
Thomas is not too surprised about this. Today they wrote a Latin exam, something for which most of the boys had spent the last few nights with memorizing vocabs and endless translations, so the joy that learning was finally over is great at this moment.
He lets his gaze wander. He's sitting on the floor with the others. They lit the fireplace for the evening, as autumn has finally displaced summer with the first cold days and the cold storm outside. One of the oil lamps and a few candles also illuminate the room. Walty talks about something and his voice trembles with excitement, but the words do not fully reach Thomas as his eyes wander further and discover a figure apart from the others. David sits on one of the beds, closest to the lit lamp, staring at some papers. He instantly frowns and seems to be very dissatisfied with what he has just discovered, because he begins to massacre a paper with his pen.
Thomas is suddenly curious and wants to ask what the boy had discovered, but someone shakes his shoulder vehemently. He follows the movement and finds Walty beside him who looking invitingly.
"Uhm sorry, Walty. What is it?" he asks, noticing that the rest of the boys are staring at him.
"Not paying attention, little bird?" Richard says mockingly, and Thomas tries not to curse his face because of this ridiculous nickname. Determined to not give Richard what he wants. "If the dean knew about this!"
"I just told them about how we stole Mr Danglepot's toupee. Don't you remember, Tommy? When he fell asleep in the library". Walty puts on a bitter look, which no one ever bought, because he is far too kind to have an intimidating effect. "They don't believe me!"
"It's true", Thomas jumps in quickly, because his friend's voice sounds a bit desperate. "It was a bet at first. I thought it was his real hair and Walty did not. There was only one way to find out."
Nigel bursts out in laughter and Walty looks satisfied for a moment, but Richard raises his chin and Thomas knows even before he opens his mouth that he would express further doubts. Not because Richard thinks that Walty is a liar, but because he currently enjoys questioning everything Thomas says or does.
"And just by chance, there are no witnesses and since you haven't been caught, there's no evidence either. Really, guys", Richard smiles into the circle and Thomas can see how the others start to second question their story. "That doesn't prove anything, Walter. I'm so sorry. Honestly, I might have believed you if you hadn't involved our little bird in this."
Walty gives Richard a nasty look that doesn't fulfill his function in the slightest, but Thomas appreciates the gesture. Walty opens his mouth, perhaps to defend him, but Richard continues to talk unconcerned. "It's just a fact. We all benefited from Nigel when he was able to steal the script for the last test in magical theory and we all know what Leon got when he tried to do the same for Latin yesterday. How many did you got, Leo? Seven with the belt?"
"Eight", Leon says. There's also a scratch on his cheek and dark rings under his eyes. Leon learned the most last night, because he had relied too much on getting the right answers beforehand. "Eight with the cane."
A wave of compassion runs through the group and manifests itself in the collective grimacing.
"See? Everyone here often dares something, to help all of us out, or just to prove one's bravery", Richard says, leans back and smiles. "But that's just the way it is. Some here have courage and some seem to prefer to wheel the teachers."
"Not true", Thomas protests and raises his hand. The mark left by the hit with the ruler is still clearly visible. "I just don't like getting caught, Richard."
He pretends to not have heard the latter and continues: "That hardly counts. Nigel gets this in every physics lesson."
Shortly, the eyes wander to the rather short boy, who only shrugs his shoulders and murmurs something of "Who is seriously paying attention in this hour?"
"It's all right, little bird", says Richard in a conciliatory tone and puts on a patronizing smile. "Just admit you're afraid to break the rules. Aren't you?"
Thomas wants to point out that he could say the same about Richard but forces himself to remain silent. It's not like he was the model pupil Richard portrayed here. He usually plans the group actions, and he regularly stole snacks from the kitchen for evenings like these. Everyone in the room is aware of that. But Richard really seems to find pure satisfaction in this weird rivalry thing and Thomas desperately tries not to respond to it.
"So, let him prove himself."
For a moment the dorm goes silent. Almost in synchrony everyone stretches their head to look at David. The boy still holds the notes he's been studying. Scientistic papers, as he explained to Walter about an hour ago.
"How?" Richard askes, his tone is just a bit condescending. Still undecided how he should react to the sudden intervention of the boy who otherwise rarely interacts with anyone here.
Thomas meets David's eyes. The boy is pretty tall since this summer but seems to be more interested in physics than rugby...or any kind of sports. David is rather quiet and prefers to be alone. Thomas can't blame him at all. Their classmates can be really annoying especially since Richard started to see in any class some sort of competition. Silence is also very rare if you grow up in a boarding school for boys. Knowing that, it is no big surprise that Thomas likes to read a book in the library from time to time, to find himself in the calmness again. But David rarely reads, well, not novels at least. He likes to do what he's calling experiments... Things that eventually cause explosions sooner or later.
But still: His current look doesn't suit Thomas' impression of his classmate. It's almost provocative as he stands up from his bed to join the other boys on the floor, explaining himself calmly: "Well, he is supposed to be smart, according to the masters, right? I'm sure he will figure something out."
If someone else would have said that their tone would be hostile, but David didn't sound like that. On the contrary, there was a hint of recognition and Thomas feels his lips deform to a small smile. David grins back wide, as if it is some sort of inside joke that they both share.
Richard says something undoubtedly awful again, but Thomas couldn't care less. Now, this is something between him and David. Who would have thought that? The best in class likes to prove himself to the weird one. The Nightingale and the swot – what an odd constellation.
Strangely enough, Thomas is much less averse to the idea of making an idiot out of himself than minutes before.
He is still motivated as they chase him out of the dormitory and he sneaks barefoot over the cold stone floor of the sleeping building, still determined as he stands in front of the bedroom door after half an hour and knocks gently. His smile fades quickly when it is Richard who opens the door.
"Disappointing, little bird", he says, sounding not in the least disappointed, but very, very satisfied with himself. Thomas wants to explain himself, but he is grabbed by the shoulders and dragged into the middle of the room. He half-heartedly tries to escape Richard's hands, but the older one won't let go.
"Gentlemen, I have the honor to present you what we call a coward," he says, and Thomas finds David. His head is slightly tilted and raises one of his eyebrows hardly noticeably as if he is asking a question. Thomas grins halfwa and a small smile flushes over David's face.
"Not at all," Thomas says and gets the whiskey out from under his clothes.
The boys growl and Richard releases his grip after a few confused seconds with a quiet dissatisfied sound.
"What is this, Tommy?"
"It's whiskey, isn't it?"
"How did you get that!"
"The liquor cabinet was open", he says. "I think someone forgot to lock it. I did after I found the bottle."
"Smart."
Something in Thomas' stomach twists when David says that. It's a strange feeling, and he can't decide whether to classify it as unpleasant. He looks at him, finding appreciation in his eyes and something indefinable, then he reaches out in a slow controlled movement and Thomas hands him the bottle... His trophy.
David waves it gently back and forth before he looks around and a broad grin appears on his face. It was strange to see that. David just seems so sociable in the moment, that nobody would have thought he is usually just the guy who practiced physics around the clock. The swot, who had set fire again and got twelve stripes for it. Odd, but not enough to become Richard's newest centre of attention. No wonder. David was not a challenging rival in anything but physics. He would bore Richard. Speaking of which, the older boy looks more dissatisfied with every second. He catches Thomas staring, something angry mingles into his face for a moment before it distorts with a malicious smile.
Richard pulls the whiskey out of David's hand and there is a dull sound as he briefly loses his balance and the glass touches floor.
"Time to fly, little bird," Richard puts the bottle in his hand and his voice defies with triumph. "The honour of the first drink is due to you."
Thomas screws around the lid almost immediately. He has never tasted alcohol, probably like most of the others in this room, but finds that under the circumstances fourteen is a good age for it. Still, when he feels the eyes of the other boys on him, he can't help but feel nervous.
Thomas leads the opening to his mouth. The bottle is heavy enough that he has to hold it with both hands and probably as expensive as a month of his education.
The whiskey smells somehow woody and a little bit like smoke, it reminds Thomas of a signare from one of his classmates, but he can't exactly assign it. He forced himself to take a sip and it took his most iron determination not to spit it out right away. It burned in his mouth, his throat down, and even in his stomach a fire is kindled.
Thomas removes himself energetically from the bottle and is shocked to find that tears are forming in his eyes when he can no longer suppress the cough.
Richard laughs at him, but when Thomas catches himself and looks up, he finds mostly understanding in his friends' faces and a grin on David's lips. Thomas gets the hint instantly.
"You're next, Richard," Thomas flutters with his sweetest smile and hands the bottle to the older boy. The demand had put a proper damper on Richard's winning spirit, but as he drinks, he manages to hold himself more together than Thomas did. He gives him that much. However, Thomas no longer cares. It is much more interesting to exchange knowing glances with David as Richard pretends to yawn while his chest tightens treacherous with a suppressed cough.
Again, Thomas finds them smiling at each other, as if they've done nothing else for years, as soon as the boys start passing the bottle around. There is no burning in his stomach anymore, but a pleasant warmth remains.
It stays there for the next hour as they continue to get drunk. Well, not really drunk. They are too young to dare drinking much and this is their first experience with alcohol after all. But the few sips each of them takes and the burning sensation the whiskey creates in their bellies and cheeks is enough to make them feel like they are really drunk. Everyone is saying things they will regret later, some of them, more than the rest, but Thomas knows they will make a silent agreement to never talk about it in the morning and lets his guard down even in front of Richard. But that's alright. Apparently, the more he drinks, the nicer he gets.
In Thomas memories, that night would consist of Richard's silly jokes, Nigel's strange niche knowledge and Leon's frighteningly accurate imitations of the masters, but someday in a very distant future, all of that would fade. Something else would come to Thomas's mind when he remembers of his first drink.
Eventually, in fact, the laughter faded away and Thomas realises that next to him and the gradually dying fireplace, only David is awake.
Thomas must blink for a moment. He had only noticed in passing how more and more of his friends had taken their leave. Curtains of the four-poster beds had been drawn now and then, but Thomas had always been so engrossed in the present conversation that he hadn't noticed that all of the sudden, he is standing there almost all alone. Did he talk to David for a while now? Or had Walty just gone to bed five minutes ago? Thomas has lost his sense of time.
But now being completely alone with David, a boy he has hardly spoken to before, makes him strangely nervous and the silence that just spreads between them seems heavy. It causes him to wander his gaze to David, only to find that he is watching him, so intensely that Thomas briefly fears he is reading his mind then continues around the room, looking for a topic of conversation.
His eyes linger on David's bed, or more precisely on the notes still lying on his blanket, and the curiosity from earlier returns.
"Can I see what you are working on?" asks Thomas, his voice ringing strangely in his ears. David's face at first shows the expression of astonishment and then his expression becomes thoughtful. He eyes him and what are probably only seconds feel like hours. The crackling of the fireplace is suddenly muffled in Thomas's ears and his hands sweat, then David breaks the spell and turns away.
They are both sitting on the floor, somehow closer than Thomas remembered, but David is turning his back on him now. It seems, he is reaching for something. Then he twists around, a grin on his face.
"Only if you will take one more drink," David says, handing him the bottle.
Thomas doesn't bother to hide his discomfort this time and screws up his face. There is nobody here he needs to prove a point to. He looks once more at the papers on the bed and at to David, who is watching him in joyous expectation.
This is a stupid decision, he thinks as he opens the whiskey. On the other hand, many stupid decisions have already been made this evening, what would be one more? So, he forces himself to drink.
It burns just as bad as the first sip, if not more, as Thomas tries to take more this time. He needs to cough, and David takes the bottle from him. One hand rest on his shoulder, a gesture of sympathy.
This is what irritates Thomas the most as he lifts his gaze. There is no mockery in David's expression, no malice. He is clearly amused, but more in the way you laugh at something in common. His eyes are gentle... almost caring, and in the light of the fireplace that slowly dissolves into embers, they are almost the colour of whiskey.
David brings the whiskey to his own mouth, keeps eye contact and drinks slowly. He doesn't cough, doesn't seem to be suppressing it either, and Thomas dimly remembers that David had reached for the bottle a few times before. The only movement is the minimal contortion of his face, but then he gulps and the spell breaks. Thomas no longer looks him in the eye, he can still feel the burn.
"Show-off," he mutters after a brief silence, and David has to laugh. It's melodic and deep and preserves a hint of what his voice will sound like when he grows up.
"What's a deal is a deal," he murmurs finally, standing up and picking up the papers. Glances at them again briefly before he hands them to Thomas.
At first glance, no sense is apparent and though David must have written everything without putting much effort into it, his handwriting is neater than Thomas had expected. The notes seem to be out of order, there are many sub-sentences formulated as questions and under each of these are bullet points and individual equations. A few he recognises from class, but there are also variables that are completely unfamiliar to Thomas.
His incomprehension must be plain on his face because David clears his throat. There' s a look of discomfort on him.
"These are just... I'm sure it will bore you..."
"Can you try to explain it to me?" asks Thomas, as David tries to withdraw the notes again. His eyes regard him warily, as if he expects some kind of trick, but Thomas simply tilts his head in curiosity.
"Okay," David says with half a sigh, and frowns. "We learn the subfields of physics in class. Mechanics, thermodynamics, electrodynamics, Newton's laws etcetera... do you understand what I'm on about? Good. However, there are events, especially those concerning light, that speak against these principles or cannot be explained with them. Last year in Germany, for example, a theory was put forward that extends Newton's law of gravity. It's based on the fact that light can be deflected by massive objects, which can't be explained with what we're taught, but can with this theory."
"That sounds... complicated," Thomas says, then watches as David bites his lips while staring at his hands, realising he had said something wrong. "Please," he attempts softly. " Continue. I'll do my best to follow you."
"So," David says, taking a little moment to catch himself. "All I'm saying is that science is evolving. Everything is change and if there is one constant in our universe, it is change. Still, the laws of nature exist. They stand in contrast to the view that natural processes are influenced by effects that originate outside the system understood as nature."
"But we know of beings who are capable of changing them," Thomas ponders aloud. "The Old Man and-"
He forces himself to close his mouth as he realises that he is talking. Of course, what he said is complete nonsense; surely David thinks he's stupid now.
David's expression is not judgmental or mocking, he looks very pleased.
"Yes!" he says, a little too loudly, dropping his voice with a chuckle. "Yes. That's exactly how it is. And I had to think about that too! Then I kept thinking and thinking about the High Fae that Mr Danglepot once talked about, remember? There were testimonials from practitioners who once encountered a Fae and suddenly found themselves briefly in another place - their world. What this means is not only that there must be one or more realities - worlds! - besides our own, but also that there exist connecting points in this world that lead to them! And there, all the dimensions we know - space, time, spacetime, could have functioned completely differently or been replaced by others and - oh, you look overwhelmed."
Trying to follow David, Thomas has started to look at his notes, hoping to keep up better that way. He looks up and the other's expression is now a mixture of concern and embarrassment.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. This is probably boring as hell and anyway it's just-"
"No! It isn't. Not at all," Thomas interrupts, glancing at the notes again. "Just... how do you know all this? I mean the stuff you said about the rivers and the Fae. Is that from a book?"
"No, I just- It just came to me when we were talking about the Fae in class."
Thomas stares at him, stunned.
"Just stupid ideas, really." David grabs his notes from him, only to toss them carelessly on the floor next to them. Thomas watched them for a moment, speechless, before turning back to the other boy. David tries to laugh, but it's a sound that breaks something inside Thomas. "You know now why the others are calling me swot."
"What?" asks Thomas, as though in a daze.
"That's all I do," David says, gesturing wildly, pointing at the papers spread between them. "Making up some crackpot assumptions for myself. It's pretentious. I can't even manage to have a bloody normal conversation. I should have just got on with my work instead of interfering. Best, I get rid of this rubbish now."
He grabs one of the papers, and starts to roll it up, but before David can destroy it further, Thomas stops him, clasps his hands with his own, and takes the paper from him. He takes the time to smooth it out briefly before gently placing it back with the others. Then he grasps David's hands again, doing his best to be comforting, thinking of the time his youngest sister, Elizabeth, came home with a skinned knee because one of the neighbourhood boys was teasing her.
"It's not rubbish," Thomas says, trying to give his voice the seriousness it needs. It's hard to stay calm, though, with David staring at him in such eerie silence. "What you said there is... Although I don't completely understand most of it, it's brilliant and I can't believe it just came to you." He tilts his head and points to David's' notes. "You were even trying to formulate a theory from it, weren't you?"
"I was... But I'm not good enough to do that and anyway, that theory is probably bullshit."
"No, it's a logical explanation."
"But I can't prove it!"
David looks immediately shocked by his outburst. Thomas is sure that he is now trying to find the right words to apologise for having shouted at him. There is no way he can let that happen. They had more important things to focus on here.
"Well," Thomas says slowly. "You can't refute it either, can you?"
It makes David smile. It's small and insignificant. He's not at all the very social boy who got on so well with everyone earlier, now he' s himself, insecure and afraid, and showing off now when he has nothing to worry about. Thomas knows this all too well from himself. But David is apparently bloody brilliant. There is no reason for him to feel like this. Even so, the fact that David is showing him his real feelings again causes something in his stomach to twist. Not unpleasant, but it makes him nervous all the same.
"You need to keep doing what you're doing," he says in a firm voice and begins to collect the papers. Thomas neatly stacks them on top of each other and reaches out to hand them to David, keeping hold of them for a moment as their eyes meet. "You will accomplish something great one day. More than any of us."
He immediately feels silly as the words are out. However, to his credit, David doesn't laugh about it.
"That means a lot. Hearing you of all people say that."
He smiles warmly and looks at Thomas filled with meaning.
"We better get some sleep," he says quietly, letting go of David's notes. But this is the only thing he manages, because still he stands motionless, caught in the other's gaze. David's face, on the other hand, is anything but fixed. He is studying Thomas' closely, the papers resting quite carelessly in his hands, and every now and then his lips or eyebrows twitch briefly so that you can literally hear it working inside his head.
"I suppose we should," he says. His words are slow to get through to Thomas.
For a split second, as David averts his gaze, something in his chest tightens. The boy looks back down at his notes, with a similarly interested look, as if he had discovered everything there was to be found in Thomas, solved every puzzle and equation of his, and moved on to the next subject.
"Good night," Thomas murmurs, feeling like a book page turned. He goes to pull away, but David lowers his notes and catches up with the first step Thomas took to move away.
"Did you mean what you said, Thomas?"
It's strange to hear his name come out of David's mouth. He is even closer now than before. His eyes are large and the colour of whiskey, but Thomas still recognises the doubt that has driven him to ask this question. Before he was able to find words, however, David seems as if he had found his answer. Suddenly Thomas can feel the other's breath on his face. He tilts his head slightly, expecting David to whisper something to him, but a hand gently grasps his chin and then a butterfly-like touch is on his cheek. When David's lips move away, Thomas' eyes are wide and before his brain processes what had just happened, clearly David is already several steps away.
"Good night," David now says, again with a smile on his face. Still hanging back a few seconds, Thomas raises a thoughtless hand and runs it over his cheek, then forces himself to meet David's gaze. The other boy makes an elegant movement with his head, points at something, next to Thomas. The whiskey bottle, he realises.
"Don't drink so much anymore, birdie," he says with a wink, before disappearing behind the curtains of his bed.
