A/N: I'm loving the curiosity in the feedback I've gotten for this thus far! This is my first AU, so I'm happy to see people are on board with the concept I'm presenting. I'm so looking forward to being able to write these characters differently from how we see them on the show. Really, I'm just looking forward to writing this story in general.
One thing I forgot to mention in chapter one is that this story will switch from being told in Miles' POV to being told in Tristan's. So, look out for that to avoid confusion! :P Like always, I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts on this chapter!
Chapter Text
Tristan's POV
"The eyes are the window to the soul, Hollingsworth."
I continued cooly as I walked past him, letting the outer edge of my shoulder brush ever so slightly against his as I moved. Of course I left no time for him to answer my question. I didn't need to yet. There was no doubt he was going to follow, and sure enough the sound of his shoes padding against the concrete started behind me. My words were obviously not my own, but if there was one fact I was sure of in this world that was it. And knowing that was true, the window leading inside Miles Hollingsworth appeared to have been shattered long ago.
His eyes reminded me of a watercolor painting - various shades of green speckled with a rich brown like the few beautiful flowers in the dreariest of fields. Despite his badly repressed misery the kid didn't seem all that bad from first glance. His fashion sense was a bit too uptown for a teenager in our little Canadian town and he was awkward as hell. But he was pretty cute if you go for the dorky chic, 'so far into the closet they're prancing through Narnia' type. Which was proving to be more attractive by the minute. He trailed after me with this dumb, crooked smile that was just faint enough that if you blink you might miss it. I caught it in a glimpse when I turned around to ensure he was still there and it was impossible not to return.
"So, what all does a fictitious motorcycle accident leave a guy with anyways?"
I called out over the commotion of the chaotic health service traffic as I lead him out of the parking structure. We hung a right at the exit, crossing directly in front of a waiting vehicle stuck at a stand-still. The path behind the building was like an entirely new setting. You'd never know where you had just come from if it wasn't for the nearby wail of the ambulance sirens. So long as you were thin enough and didn't mind being ankle deep in the crisp autumn leaves that collected after being abandoned by the gnarled trees on the other side, you could walk single file between there and the rusted chain link fence with ease. The path was so long and narrow all you could really see ahead of you was the way the sunset blended in with the temporary orange and gold blanket that coated the ground. It was pretty in the most simplistic of ways. Especially considering that once winter hit, there would be a huge contrast in the way the ice blue sky met the dirt.
"Broken wrist and a mild concussion." Miles answered flatly, probably the most confident sentence he'd uttered all day.
"Dammit. Well, I guess fence hopping isn't in your future. We'll have to take the long way around."
"The long way to where, exactly?"
"Somewhere." I teased, doing a complete 180 so Miles could see the cheeky grin on my face.
He had been watching his own feet as he walked. But when I turned he peered up at me with a small laugh - light and airy like the current fall breeze. When he lowered his head again I caught glimpse of the bruise peeking out from under his disheveled bangs. I had noticed it when we met but in the outside light the combination of black and blue against his skin appeared in more detail. The brunette stumbling about the uneven surface turned out to be a lot more amusing than the view of going forward, which lead me to continue backwards for quite some time. It wasn't until a rustling noise that wasn't one of our own met my attention that I stopped in my tracks. Miles seemed apprehensive, and I suppose in such an unfamiliar circumstance I would have been too. But I knew what - or rather who - was coming, and grabbed on to Miles' arm to pull both of us against the rusted fence so she could pass.
"Hi Tristan." She barely lifted her frail hands to wave, her fingers limply piercing through the air.
"Hi Grace. Do me a favor and don't tell my mom you saw me here?"
"I won't if you won't." She offered with a friendly smile that assured my safety before her presence moved on to get lost in the shadows.
"Wouldn't have pegged you as a mamas boy." Miles tried his best at a playful jab, leaving me to roll my eyes in response.
"She volunteers at the hospital. If I get caught causing mischief on the premisis I won't be the only one in trouble."
"Oh." By the way Miles spoke, I knew he wasn't finished. But it took a long pause for him to vocalize his next thoughts. "So then that girl. She knew her. Does that mean she's..."
"Leukemia." I knew his question before it was even asked. "But was that really your first clue that she's sick?"
It wouldn't have taken a genius to know Grace was unwell. Although the artsy pattern of the do-rag on her head was beautiful, there was no mistaking that it was there to cover up her lack of hair. Her skin was as pale as paper except for the deep discoloration underneath her tired eyes. Even the way she moved was more cautious than the average teenager out for an evening stroll.
"No." He admitted shyly, as if the conversation had suddenly grown uncomfortable. "But then why is she allowed out here? Isn't that bad for her?"
"Not necessarily. She snuck out. Grace has never really been one to follow the rules. She's like, the resident bad-ass...used to have a crazy colors in her hair and a crap ton of piercings before she had to take them out. The way I see it, she's making the most of things while she still can. No use being cooped up in a hospital room counting down the minutes you have left, right?"
"I guess. Man, I fucking hate hospitals. Do you come with your mom often?"
"Yeah, something like that."
By now we had stopped at a gap in the fence that we had to step sideways to squeeze through. Miles did so without question, giving me yet another reason to appreciate his existence. We had to duck underneath the low hanging branches of trees to make our way through the darkness that had fallen. Twigs snapped underneath our steps as we stumbled about through the decrepit, overgrown grass. I heard Miles gasp when we finally came out the other side and caught sight of where our destination had been all along. There was really nothing special about the abandoned park - which, was probably why it had been forgotten about in time. It was the kind of place that made you wonder if just being in its presence required a tetanus shot. All of the playground equipment was either decaying or already broken. It had probably been years since a kid had been there to play on any of it.
"Whoa. What happened here?" The amazement of how a place expected to be so cheerful could be so morose was heavy in Miles' tone as he scanned the surroundings wide-eyed.
"Life." I only shrugged as we settled atop an old plastic picnic bench that wobbled and moaned under our weight.
We faced each other, sitting cross-legged atop the peeling tabletop. I dug deep into my pocket and retrieved my favorite red lighter along with an almost new packet of cigarettes. The turquoise and white design across the box was the prettiest thing I'd seen since we arrived. As Miles did the same I noticed his pack only had two remaining. Judging by his impression so far, he certainly seemed like the guy who would need one again in the near future.
"You ever smoke Menthols?" I questioned as I picked the most alluring stick from the crowd and wiggled it out.
"No. What's the difference?"
I audibly chuckled, shaking my head in amusement. His cluelessness made me wonder if the one he had been smoking earlier was even his own or if he'd just stolen a pack off of his parents on a whim.
"They taste like mint." Placing the cigarette between my lips I lit the end, taking one slow drag with an even slower exhale. "Kinda soothing. Makes your mouth cold and tingly."
I raised a flirtatious eyebrow in his direction before taking one more puff to feel it myself. The icy sensation ran smooth down my throat, sending chills throughout my insides. I shut my eyelids to absorb the feeling as I released a billowy cloud of smoke before me. I could feel Miles' stare on me the entire time, so it made it no surprise when his skepticism broke my concentration.
"Really?"
"Mmhm. Wanna see?"
I scooted closer to him until our knobby knees were touching. An inhale so deep it lifted my posture brought me upwards, leaning over his lap. His eyes flew shut as my short nails met his cheek, lightly tracing down the bone to cup his jaw. The goosebumps formed under the pad of my fingers as they trailed his hairless skin. The action urged his mouth open, allowing me to blow the smoke directly into the open chamber. I pursed my lips to control the direction of the smoke, bringing them as close to his as I was able without letting them touch. I could hear his breath hitch before he sucked in, inhaling the substance into his own waiting lungs. Though it was incredibly gentle, the out breath tickled as it misted my skin.
Our chests were so close I could nearly feel the vibrations from his rapid heartbeat competing with my own. Anticipation hung thick in the air like a canopy as we waited in the silence - barely thinking, barely moving, barely breathing. The entire scene was hot and heavy. I admired the new found calmness on his face for a moment before returning my ass to the hard surface of the table. By the time he reopened his fallen lids I was already back to finishing my cigarette, using my free hand to pull one out of the pack for him. He took it without any more questioning, using my lighter for the second time that day to fuel his supposed addiction. He was visibly flustered, and although I was much better at hiding it I would be lying if I'd said I left unaffected.
"You got a phone, Hollingsworth?" I inquired with my last puff before ashing out the butt onto the peeling plastic of our seat.
He nodded, taking the sleek black iPhone out of his front pocket and tossing it my way. I punched in the ten digits, leaving the name space empty for him to fill with whatever he desired. When I handed it back it took a moment of him mashing buttons before I heard the muffled melody coming from my own. Retrieve, open, type, send, and...
"5:30?" He read my text aloud before looking at me quizzically. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Something wonderful."
I informed him matter-of-factly as I untangled my legs and let them swing over the edge of the table. I hopped to my feet and brushed the dust off the back of my pants upon landing. Miles was quick to mimic my movements.
"And what might that be?"
"Well. Unfortunately I didn't tell anyone where I was going and it is getting kind of late. So I'm heading back to where I came from. You'd better get some sleep, because I expect that head injury to be healed enough for you to remember the actual story of how you got the crap kicked out of you...tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" He repeated as if he hadn't heard me clearly.
"Tomorrow. Right here. At 5:30."
It wasn't a question rather than a demand. But I was nearly positive he would have no opposition to it. I began the trek back through the playground, knowing exactly which direction to turn to take me back where I needed to go. I would have waited for Miles, but truthfully I didn't want him to see the apple red color beginning to blossom on the appropriate section of my face. So I zig-zagged between the old seesaw and around the empty sandbox, hopping over gopher holes inconveniently placed underneath the tall grass. The sound of his muttered curses and occasional run-ins with things he couldn't see ensured that once again Miles had come after me without prompting.
"And what's so wonderful about that?"
He finally asked once we were in the clear. I finally waited for him as he slid through the gape of the fences after me and we were on the straight and narrow path that lead us there in the first place. With only one direction to go from there, it would be pretty difficult to lose him. Luckily, that wasn't my intention. I knew he wouldn't be able to make it out in the darkness, but I flashed him a cheeky grin anyways.
"I know your concussion hasn't made you that stupid, Hollingsworth."
'He said Boy can I tell you a wonderful thing'