The Break of Day: Chapter 1-8
May. 13th, 2011 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: At last, after four weeks, I have brought you another chapter of The Break of Day, and it's a direct continuation of the previous chapter. It's also HILARIOUS, in my opinion, so be careful when you drink. *grins* Warning for het kisses and kisses between men. Enjoy!
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
azardarkstar for the beta work!
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
December 22, 1978 (continued)
Azriel wasn't surprised when the others caught up to them in less than twenty minutes. Isley looked completely annoyed, while Tegan and Miss Dryden kept exchanging shy, lingering glances. Apparently, they'd known Kieran as well as Azriel did and assumed his next destination would involve lunch.
They plopped themselves down at the table Kieran had chosen – bread bowls in hand – and immediately started in on each other. And to think, Azriel had been enjoying the companionable conversation between himself and Kieran. It wasn't that he disliked the others, just that he would always prefer a certain measure of quiet.
Ironically enough, Kieran could provide that.
“Yonah got us lost,” Isley complained as she spooned a vegetable stew into her mouth, hair mussed and robe torn. “She chose the wrong door.”
Misae sniffed imperiously, the kohl around her eyes smudged and her painted lips smeared. “How was I supposed to know it was a riddle?”
“I thought it would be pretty obvious,” Isley retorted, scooping her soup with a vengeance. She was probably reconsidering her decision to help Tegan and Miss Dryden on their quest toward true love.
Kieran shook his head. “We didn't exactly beat the time limit either,” he said around a mouthful of bread. “It wasn't as fun as it used to be.”
“We're not children anymore,” Miss Dryden replied. She was the only one of them who had elected for a toasted sandwich instead. “Some things just don't hold the same appeal.”
Disappointment flickered in Kieran's eyes. His emotions were as changeable as they were simple to discern. Sometimes, Azriel envied him for that openness. Other times, he thought he'd better warn Kieran of the dangers of being so easily read. Someone might take advantage of that one day.
“We all have to grow up eventually,” Isley added, now nibbling on her own bread.
‘And sometimes, we mature sooner than everyone else,’ Azriel thought but kept his comments to himself.
They wouldn't understand. Perhaps Tegan did, but he never seemed to care what others thought of him or the consequences. He forged ahead without hesitation and dug out his own path. It was almost enviable, except that Azriel couldn't fathom being that reckless.
Kieran's lower lip jutted out in something that Azriel called a pout. “Now, you sound like my father.”
Miss Dryden shuddered visibly. “Heaven forbid any of us sound like Lord Azura. I still remember that one time we broke a vase and the look in his eyes. Colder than a glacier, I'd say. Thought he do us all in.”
“That wasn't just any vase,” Kieran corrected, though his eyes twinkled in remembrance. “That was my great-great-grandmama's urn.”
Misae looked horrified. “Is that why it spilled dust everywhere?” she asked as though suddenly connecting the dots.
“Not dust, ashes,” Kieran corrected and tore apart his bread bowl without any manners whatsoever. “Father didn't care that it was an accident. He was furious. It took Mama ages to calm him down.”
Miss Dryden shook her head. “No wonder he was so angry.” She paused, one finger to her chin. “Come to think of it, we didn't spend much time together after that.”
“... Father was really furious,” Kieran repeated, and there was an odd quality to his tone, old anger and resentment mixed together. “I started private lessons a month later.” He made a face.
Azriel wiped his fingers with his handkerchief and carefully tucked it back into his pocket. “How old were you?”
“Seven or eight.” Kieran shrugged. “I don't really remember exactly. After that, it was a blur of tutors and teachers and books. Not that I minded. Writing and reading and math theory and chemistry and biology were interesting. It was the other stuff I could have done without.”
There were times Azriel was grateful for his upbringing. Looking around the table at the others who nodded in sympathy – Tegan excluded – made now one of those times. His mother had arranged for Azriel to have tutors for the basics but choosing to study anything else had been his choice at his own pace. Azriel had challenged himself by soaking up any bit of knowledge he could get his hands on, but the decision had still been his.
Isley tilted her head to the side. “That was around the time of the Hobbs Rebellion wasn't it?”
“History's not exactly my strong suit,” Kieran said.
“It's recent history, Kieran!” Misae exclaimed. She sounded personally offended. “How could you forget?” She stabbed her spoon into her bowl, nearly splashing the stew everywhere. She had only been nibbling on it like a particularly picky bird.
Kieran shrugged dismissively. “Didn't seem important.”
“Didn't seem imp—Professor Hadley, could you please fill this ignorant child in?” Miss Dryden asked, waving a hand through the air.
Azriel idly twitched his spoon through what was left of his own stew. He remembered the Hobbs Rebellion all too well. He'd only been a child at the time, but it had still affected him. Not personally but on an entirely different level.
“Hobbs was one of the farming villages just outside of Meropis,” Azriel explained with a glance to see if anyone around was listening, but they were being ignored by the other diners. “And I say was because the Brigade took control, and it's now an outer district to Meropis. It's no longer owned by the people of Hobbs.”
‘If any of them even still lived,’ but Azriel kept that detail to himself. He didn't think any of them cared.
Tegan, interestingly enough, kept silent on the matter. His eyes darted to Azriel, but he also kept his comments to himself.
“Why?” Kieran asked, and there was something odd to his tone.
“Because the ungrateful peasants decided they were done paying their dues,” Misae answered with an imperious sniff that made Azriel's blood go cold. “They revolted. Complained about all sorts of ridiculous things.”
Azriel worked his jaw. “It was hardly ridiculous. Meropis was demanding more than three-fourths of their crops. They had nothing to live on.”
“Not to mention the taxes,” Tegan added, popping the last of his bread into his mouth as if pretending nonchalance. “All they wanted was a little more independence, a chance to feed their own first. His Kingship didn’t like that.”
“So they sent in the Brigade,” Azriel replied, fingers tapping a nonsense rhythm on the table, the facts of the situation all too clear in the back of his mind. “They never stood a chance, not against trained soldiers.”
Misae rolled her eyes. “It's not like it happened to you. Why are you so offended? His Lordship was doling punishment as was appropriate. They should have never stepped beyond their station.”
It was times like these that Azriel really hated his companions. Perhaps not all of them. But he was solidly reminded of the difference in the way they had been raised. At least, he wasn’t alone in his disgust. Souya had a thunderous look on his face, like he'd been raised not to strike a woman but was seriously reconsidering that lesson.
“Everyone has to pay taxes,” Isley commented, her voice softer than usual. She was just making a point and not trying to be contrary. “Even my family does.”
“Yes, but the difference is, you can afford them,” Souya said.
Azriel admired his restraint, the way his face twitched but he managed to keep the venom from his voice.
Souya rose to his feet, movements jerky but not violent. “I've finished mine,” he stated then. “Anyone else?”
He hadn't even eaten all of it, a rarity for Tegan, but perhaps his stomach was churning like Azriel's own. Or maybe he'd just lost his appetite.
Azriel bit back a sigh and handed over his half-finished bowl. “Same here.”
Tegan kindly collected the leftovers, except for Isley and Kieran who were doggedly determined to finish every last bite of soup and bread, and made for the trash can. Shoulders stiff and set in place. He had to be used to it by now – by the gods Azriel wished that he weren't. But still, it was harder to take when he had to hear it from those he considered friends.
Tension hung over the table. Azriel was in no mood to try and dispel it. Misae looked confused, as though she couldn't fathom why everyone was suddenly quiet and moody. Miss Dryden simply glanced after Tegan, while Isley sunk into her seat.
“Anyway,” Kieran inserted loudly, and Azriel barely kept himself from startling at the sudden burst of noise. “I'm thinking we should play some of the games next.”
Misae wrinkled her nose. “Why? We’re too old for that.”
“But it’d be fun,” Kieran insisted, and there was a note in his voice that dared Misae to argue. “I'd like to win some prizes.”
Isley waved a hand of dismissal. “Those cheap toys that you could easily buy for yourself if you wanted?”
“That's not the point,” Kieran retorted with a winning grin. “The meaning's different when you win them.”
“You used to love the goldfish game,” Miss Dryden commented idly, planting her chin on her palm. “You were the only one of us who could win at it.”
Kieran pulled his lips into a pout. “Father never let me keep them though. He always said that the decorative fish we had in the garden pond were good enough.”
“We could play the sack game.” Isley suggested. “You know, the one where we toss bags through the targets?”
Tegan returned then, plopping down on Kieran's other side and far from Misae. “Those are easy,” he put in, seeming more composed now. But his eyes purposefully didn’t go in Misae’s direction as he looked around the table.
“Maybe for you.” Isley stuck out her tongue.
And just like that, the tension was dispelled. As though Kieran had waved some magic wand of his own and made it happen.
Miss Dryden cleared her throat noisily. “Games are all well and good,” she inserted once she had everyone's attention. “But the sun's setting, and they are about to announce the winner of the ice sculpture contest.”
Misae arched a brow. “And we care why?”
Miss Dryden's cheeks turned a healthy pink .
Kieran just grinned. “Because Lady Dryden made Lyra enter it this year.”
Everyone's gaze swung to her, and Miss Dryden hastily looked away.
“She thought it would help me learn our culture,” she replied, fingers tapping the tabletop. “I have to at least see if I get an honorable mention.”
Isley snorted into her bowl and rose to her feet, still nibbling on the remnants of it. “You all go on ahead then. I have to stop by my family's spot.” She winked. “Dad says he has something for us.”
Kieran perked noticeably, not unlike a puppy with ears cocked and tail wagging. “Is it what I think it is?” he asked, eager stars practically dancing in his eyes.
It was almost... cute. If a bit odd for a boy his age.
Grinning mischievously, Isley passed behind Kieran and gave him a friendly tap to the shoulder. “You'll see,” she replied as she waggled her fingers over her shoulder. “I'll catch up with the rest of you later. I'm pretty sure I can find you.”
Azriel was certain of that as well. They were a large, often noisy group. It couldn't be too hard; just follow the sounds of Kieran's insatiable stomach.
“I hope it's Rozlin,” Kieran said, almost dreamily, his legs kicking under the table.
Souya chuckled. “Do you honestly think her dad is going to give us liquor?”
“A guy can dream.” Kieran sighed dramatically and then all but leapt from his chair, energetic and ready to move on per his usual flurry of activity. “Up and at them, troops. We don't want to miss the sculpture judging, now do we?”
“Joy,” Misae said sarcastically.
For once, Azriel was slightly in agreement with her. He didn't have much interest either, but it was for a member of their group, so he’d tag along.
They gathered themselves together, getting rid of trash that hadn't been collected by Tegan, and as one bundle trudged through the snow toward the corner of the grounds that had been set aside for the contest. A small crowd had already begun to form near the platform where the awards would be issued.
“Which one's yours?” Kieran questioned, rising on his tiptoes and craning his neck to see through the crowd.
Azriel, slightly taller, was having an easier time of it. Many of the entries were boring, displaying little taste or aesthetics. But he did see a few that were impressive. There was one of a multi-armed woman dancing with swirls of water curling around her form that was rather exquisite. He hoped it was the winner.
“Over here.” Miss Dryden pointed. Hooking her arm around Kieran's – much to Tegan's annoyance – she proceeded to drag him through the sea of entries toward the back where hers had been shoved, as if forgotten, into a corner.
Azriel wondered if she had planned it that way on purpose.
Still, as they all crowded around her statue, Azriel had to do a double take. Of all things to carve, Miss Dryden had chosen the image of a crane. It stood gracefully on one leg, eyes turned regally toward the sky.
“It's beautiful,” Tegan breathed, voice filled with a sort of love-struck awe.
Miss Dryden blushed and cleared her throat. “It's plain compared to the others, but even this tiny thing took me hours. I suppose if I were more water-inclined like Kieran, it would’ve been easier.”
Kieran thumbed his chin. “I'm not really artistic like that, but you have a good point. I ought to try it someday when I'm really bored.”
“I like it, too,” Misae said approvingly. “Why did you choose to do a crane though?”
At this, Miss Dryden actually looked embarrassed. “I wanted to do a swan, but I ended up with a crane.” She chuckled and gave a shrug. “My mother liked it at least.”
“It's still beautiful,” Tegan insisted, his own cheeks staining red.
By the gods, it was almost embarrassing to watch the two of them as Miss Dryden murmured a thank you and they shyly looked at each other.
“Well, look at that,” Kieran loudly interrupted, looking amused. “They're announcing the winners! We'd better go see which prize Lyra's taking home.”
Miss Dryden was his friend, but even Azriel would admit that he didn't believe she’d be winning an award. Her crane was well done, but it didn't have the same vibrancy as some of the others Azriel had seen.
As one, they trudged to the judging area and lingered at the back of the crowd, listening for each announced prize. Azriel only gave the judges half an ear as his eyes wandered to the sky, where the setting winter sun had painted the clouds in shades of red. Stars were already peeking over the horizon, and he knew the moon would soon be following soon enough. With the setting of the sun though came an onset of chill that made Azriel pull his coat tighter and dig out his gloves. He'd taken them off to eat, but now, his frigid fingers demanded their return.
By the time the grand prize winner was announced, they learned that Miss Dryden hadn't won anything. She didn't seem too disappointed, shrugging her shoulders and turning away.
“At least Mother can't be angry that I didn't participate,” Miss Dryden commented as Misae squeezed her shoulder consolingly.
Kieran yawned openly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. It was like the moment he escaped his father's presence, he purposely forgot his manners.
“They're going to have fireworks in a bit. We should pick our spot now,” he stated, stretching his arms up over his head with a creak and crack of bone.
“Now?” Misae sounded aghast. “We'll freeze!”
Kieran rolled his eyes. “Not if we light a fire,” he retorted and then added a mischievous smirk. “Besides, if Harper brings what we all hope she's bringing, we'll warm up soon enough.”
“Lush,” Miss Tegan accused playfully.
“I like to enjoy the simple things in life,” Kieran corrected with a twist of his wrists and a faint bow.
First-years had no business touching alcohol, but Azriel wasn't going to be the wet blanket. Even if a part of him was a bit leery of what an intoxicated Kieran might be like. He was already clinging and emotional when sober. What would he be like drunk?
“And I suppose you already have the best spot picked out?” Misae asked, burrowing deeper into her fur-lined jacket. Her nose was already adopting a rosy glow of chill.
“Naturally,” Kieran replied, almost indignant that Misae had implied otherwise.
Azriel wondered if they would notice if he quietly snuck away. They were so wrapped up in their banter, and really, Azriel wouldn't mind a moment to himself during his winter break. He'd been dragged from one end of the festival to the other since early this morning.
He took a cautious step backward as the others started after Kieran's lead. They were always willing to fall into his whims without a second thought.
Azriel had a test to study for, one he knew was going to be sprung on them the day they return to class. He also had a paper due a week later, and Holmes was threatening to require a demonstration to prove what had been learned. Azriel was going to graduate; he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
Another step backward.
As if he'd stepped on some tiny object and made a noise, Kieran whipped around.
“Coming, Azriel?” he asked with his eyebrow cocked and confused.
Azriel, unable to deny anything the younger boy asked of him, sighed and inclined his head.
“Sure.” He tucked his chilly hands into his sleeves and hurried to catch up.
It was for the best anyway. Knowing Kieran, he would’ve discovered Azriel's disappearance and probably sent out a search party. Or, worse, he would’ve marched everyone to Azriel's house to check on him. In that regard, it was much better to stay.
As Azriel caught up to the others, Kieran locked their arms together as though he'd known just what Azriel was trying to do and wasn’t going to allow another attempt. He smiled, held onto Azriel firmly, and like that, the brunet was caught once again.
Despite himself, Azriel smiled, too.
o0o0o
The spot that Kieran claimed he had already chosen was remarkably similar to their favorite spot for lunch. It was a patch of ground mostly cleared of snow beneath a large tree with huge branches. But since it was winter, the tree had been stripped of its leaves by the autumn fall; they had a clear view of the sky above them.
Kieran whipped a large blanket out of seemingly nowhere, perhaps a pocket of non-existence tucked away in his thick coat, and spent ten minutes laying it over the ground and obsessively straightening out every last wrinkle. Azriel thought this a moot point since they were going to sit on it and wrinkle it up again, but when he tried to open his mouth and say as much, Miss Dryden nudged him.
Azriel was graciously allowed first pick of where to sit, something that should’ve embarrassed him if he weren't already used to Kieran's favoritism. He just chose nearest the tree trunk with a vague smile. After that, the rest of them piled on, and Kieran snuggled against his side, claiming loudly that he was cold. Azriel probably would’ve blushed if the young boy hadn't also grabbed Tegan and pulled him against his other side, effectively shielding the breeze and pinning himself between the tallest of them.
Dusk had fallen while they were getting settled. Azriel watched as workers rushed to and fro to light small torches all around the festival grounds, which would still be open a few more hours.
“I hope Harper hurries up,” Kieran said. Though of all of them, he looked the warmest. “I'm starting to get hungry.”
Tegan laughed. “When are you not hungry?”
“I think I have a couple biscuits left. You want them?”
Misae was already rooting around in her pocket for the handkerchief-wrapped snacks she'd bought earlier in the day. They were nothing like what Azriel was used to, glazed in honey and topped with crunchy things like cinnamon-dusted almonds or a crumbling icing. To Azriel, a biscuit was plain. Nothing like these half-desserts that the nobles claimed.
Kieran perked up like an excitable dog, and had he a tail, Azriel was sure it would be wagging.
“Yes, please!”
Misae gamely handed them over with a hint of red in her cheeks that could possibly be due to the snow, and Kieran fell on them with his usual lack of manners. Miss Dryden shook her head, while Tegan watched with an odd sort of fascination.
“Ah, I knew I'd find you here!” Isley's distinctive voice poured into the celebratory atmosphere as she came into view, arms loaded down with what was indeed two bottles. “Kieran always picks the biggest tree he can find.” She waded into the middle of the circle they'd made on the blanket, dropping her load with a relieved sigh.
“And what did you bring us?” Miss Dryden questioned, peering at the bottles with interest.
Kieran's imaginary tail started wagging again. “Is it Rozlin?”
Isley laughed. “Do you really think my dad would give us his best stuff?” she asked, arching a brow. One shaped fingernail tapped the dark bottle. “This is the next – no, the third best thing.”
“Lotmer!” Kieran exclaimed with a sort of childish glee that Azriel should’ve expected. “Did I ever say how much I love you, Harper?” he added as he grabbed the bottle and expertly twisted off the top with a loud pop.
She looked amused. “Not lately. I didn't bring any cups though so you'll have to get over that.”
Kieran wafted the bottle under his nose, eyes fluttering. “It smells delicious. I'm surprised your dad let you leave with it.”
Isley slipped back into the circle, wriggling herself in between Tegan and Kieran, one of the warmest spots to be found. “To be fair he only let me leave with one,” she said with a wink. “But I knew that wouldn't be enough to sate your appetite.” She reached for the second bottle, opening it with her own deft twist. After taking a swig, she passed it to Tegan, who looked uncertain after he accepted it.
“Drink up!” Isley put in with another one of her manly back-slap. “It's not often you get to drink Isley liquor for free. Enjoy it while you can.”
“Well, when you put it that way...” Tegan shrugged and tipped back the bottle.
Kieran had eagerly taken a drink of the bottle he'd claimed, and he only passed it along when Isley poked him in the side with her finger. With much reluctance, Kieran handed it to Azriel, who examined the label. Despite Isley claiming it was third-best, it was still high-end liquor. It was something Azriel would probably find in his uncles’ cabinet but never at his own home.
Azriel took a cautious sip and was surprised by the light, fruity flavor that danced across his tongue. It was as if someone had pressed strawberries and peaches and made them light and airy. Sweet things weren't usually to his taste, but he actually liked this. He supposed that was what he should expect of the high-end alcohol.
Licking his lips, Azriel passed the bottle to Miss Dryden, who didn't hesitate. “This is my favorite,” she murmured over the mouth of the bottle. “Kieran can keep his Rozlin.”
“Anyone know when the fireworks will be starting?” Misae inquired, surprisingly Azriel with her willingness to drink after Miss Dryden. Though admittedly, she wiped the bottle with her handkerchief.
As if her words had called them into being, the night sky suddenly lit up with sound and color, prompting their entire group to look upward. Not that it stalled the liquor as they continued their circulation around the friends.
Azriel leaned back against the tree, watching the bright colors explode across the sky, and had to admit to himself that staying had turned out alright. He sipped at the bottle, watched as Kieran started giggling – he couldn't hold his liquor, no surprise there – and enjoyed the fireworks show. It had been a good idea to attend the festival for once.
o0o0o
Several hours later, the fireworks over, the two bottles completely emptied, and their bellies full of fried dumplings rolled in honey – courtesy of Miss Dryden – they gathered themselves together to leave. Azriel collected the blanket, shook it out and folded it, watching with much amusement as Kieran stood unsteadily, swaying a little back and forth. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes like a little kid fighting back yawns.
It was almost cute.
Misae had parted almost an hour earlier, citing a need to catch up on beauty sleep. Isley had sniggered loudly at this, causing Misae to storm off in a huff, cheeks pink from too much drinking. Now, Isley and Miss Dryden were leaning on one another, faces just as red but lips wide with identical grins.
Azriel felt like the long-suffering adult stuck watching a group of grade-school children. He sighed as he tucked the folded blanket under his arms.
“The workers are getting annoyed,” he said, trying to herd his slightly inebriated friends toward the exit. Indeed, those trying to clean up after the second night of the festival were shooting hostile looks in their direction. “Time to go home.”
Kieran made a noise better suited to a sulking child. “I don't want to go home.” He latched onto Azriel's side, fingers squeezing as he looked up imploringly. “I'll just go home with you. I don't think Miss Neorah will mind.”
Of course she wouldn't. Azriel's mother had taken quite the liking to Kieran. He'd seen them plotting on more than one occasion, and she'd already spilled some embarrassing things that Azriel would’ve liked to keep secret.
“Why don't--”
Miss Dryden giggled, latching onto Kieran's other side, poking his cheek with her fingers. “Sounds to me like someone made dear daddy angry again,” she put in a sing-song voice. “What did you do this time?”
Azriel grunted, nearly tripping over his own feet at the added weight. Kieran was leaning on him and Miss Dryden on Kieran, and it felt like he was carrying both of them.
Kieran reddened, eyes bright with intoxication. “It was an accident!” he declared stubbornly. “Father just doesn't know how to forgive.”
Laughter echoed around Azriel, who sighed and struggled to drag his uncooperative friends toward the exit gate.
However, just to make things more complicated, that was when Tegan decided to drop down on Azriel's other side, heavier and less helpful than Kieran and Miss Dryden combined.
“You know what,” he said, a touch too loud, words a bit slurred. For such a large person, he couldn't hold his liquor any better than Kieran. “You're such a good guy, Azriel. I don't care what they say about you.”
Azriel blinked. “Thanks... I think.”
Was that a compliment?
“I mean it,” Tegan imparted loudly, weight a little heavier, a little warmer, his warm breath smelling of Lotmer and sweet dumplings. “You work really hard. You're a good guy. A great one even!”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Tegan,” Azriel responded, quite certain that the taller boy would remember none of this come morning, though he might hate himself for the headache that was sure to strike. “Let's go to the exit. Hurry now.”
He felt like their father then. Azriel wasn’t sure he liked it.
Tegan made a frustrated sound, and Azriel turned to address him once more, thinking he might even need to grab onto Tegan to keep him standing. But warm hands suddenly cupped Azriel's face, and his eyes widened as a pair of lips sloppily landed over his, pressed against his mouth in a drunken parody of kiss. Azriel stiffened, unable to respond, his mind stuttering to a complete halt.
Tegan. It had to be Tegan. No one else was this tall.
His mind stuttered to a halt.
Tegan was kissing him. Tegan. Was. Kissing. Him. On the mouth. Mouth to mouth. Kissing him.
Kissing.
Him.
Something in his soul crumbled away and died, and in his shock, Azriel didn't think to defend himself. When the tongue joined the party, he tasted the sweetness of Lotmer once again.
The kiss ended rather abruptly. His first kiss at that. And given to Tegan no less. If he were a different sort of person, Azriel would’ve found himself responding by force, possibly a knee to the crotch, and definitely a punch to the face.
Instead, he could only stare in utter bewilderment.
“You... your tongue was in my mouth!” he declared as Tegan blinked drunkenly at him, and the girls broke into amused titers. “Why was your tongue in my mouth?”
Tegan scratched at his chin. “It seemed like you needed it.”
He said it completely nonchalant. Like he randomly kissed men all the time or just whoever happened to be conveniently nearby. Perhaps he did for all Azriel knew. But that thought was vaguely disturbing and made his stomach give a distinct twist.
“Oh, way to go, Souya!” Kieran grumbled, sounding half-outraged, his grip on Azriel's arm tightening. “Slobber all over Azriel, why don't you?”
“No, that's not really the issue here,” Azriel said weakly, completely baffled.
Tegan, however, just squared his shoulder and rose to his full height. “I bet you can't do better,” he shot back, wobbling in place, as though he was going to fall over at any moment.
“Of course I can!” Kieran exclaimed, indignant.
“But--”
As though he hadn't spoken at all, Kieran whirled around and sealed their mouths together in a kiss even sweeter than Tegan's had been. He took his time with it, mouth a careful peck, then applying more pressure before his tongue slid across Azriel's lips as though trying for a quick taste. The kiss deepened, and Azriel just knew that everyone was staring. His entire face felt hot, his ears burning. Then, Kieran's tongue slid into his mouth, and it was a whole different experience.
In the background, someone whistled. It had to be Isley.
The noise was enough to startle Azriel into pulling away. Kieran rocked back onto his heels, too. His eyes were shining mischievously, tongue dragging over his lips as though savoring a taste.
“Man, that almost makes a girl jealous,” Isley inserted with another appreciative whistle. She tapped her mouth with two fingers. “Come on, Kieran, where's mine? Share the love!”
“If you insist,” Kieran said, and right then and there in the street, the two inebriated friends started kissing.
Azriel felt a sudden jab behind his eyes. He wondered if his sanity had just died.
Miss Dryden sighed. “And that's another reason Kieran should never drink. He turns into an affectionate monster.”
But her eyes kept skipping between Azriel and Tegan as she chewed on her bottom lip. Azriel, for his part, was trying to both keep Tegan on his feet and remain as far away from him as possible in case he got any more ideas.
One of the workers approached them then. She looked tired and irritated, the skin around her eyes pinched.
“The festival is now closed ladies and gentlemen,” she said tightly and performed a shallow bow. “Please depart quickly and carefully.”
Azriel gave a rushed exhale; it was just the break he needed. He grabbed Kieran's arm, threw the blanket over his head, and then pulled Tegan along, too.
“Come on, you two. I don't envy your headache in the morning.”
Surprisingly docile, they allowed his manhandling, and Isley and Miss Dryden latched onto their other sides, more coherent and balanced.
They left under the watchful, glaring eyes of the workers, giggles spreading amongst the inebriated, and Azriel bit back another exhausted sigh. He'd chosen this, if he'd recall correctly. It was too late to walk away now.
*****
a/n: I do hope that put a smile on your face! I'm hard at work at more chapters so we'll see you again in two more weeks!
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Thanks to
azardarkstar for the beta work! Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
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The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Eight
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The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Eight
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December 22, 1978 (continued)
Azriel wasn't surprised when the others caught up to them in less than twenty minutes. Isley looked completely annoyed, while Tegan and Miss Dryden kept exchanging shy, lingering glances. Apparently, they'd known Kieran as well as Azriel did and assumed his next destination would involve lunch.
They plopped themselves down at the table Kieran had chosen – bread bowls in hand – and immediately started in on each other. And to think, Azriel had been enjoying the companionable conversation between himself and Kieran. It wasn't that he disliked the others, just that he would always prefer a certain measure of quiet.
Ironically enough, Kieran could provide that.
“Yonah got us lost,” Isley complained as she spooned a vegetable stew into her mouth, hair mussed and robe torn. “She chose the wrong door.”
Misae sniffed imperiously, the kohl around her eyes smudged and her painted lips smeared. “How was I supposed to know it was a riddle?”
“I thought it would be pretty obvious,” Isley retorted, scooping her soup with a vengeance. She was probably reconsidering her decision to help Tegan and Miss Dryden on their quest toward true love.
Kieran shook his head. “We didn't exactly beat the time limit either,” he said around a mouthful of bread. “It wasn't as fun as it used to be.”
“We're not children anymore,” Miss Dryden replied. She was the only one of them who had elected for a toasted sandwich instead. “Some things just don't hold the same appeal.”
Disappointment flickered in Kieran's eyes. His emotions were as changeable as they were simple to discern. Sometimes, Azriel envied him for that openness. Other times, he thought he'd better warn Kieran of the dangers of being so easily read. Someone might take advantage of that one day.
“We all have to grow up eventually,” Isley added, now nibbling on her own bread.
‘And sometimes, we mature sooner than everyone else,’ Azriel thought but kept his comments to himself.
They wouldn't understand. Perhaps Tegan did, but he never seemed to care what others thought of him or the consequences. He forged ahead without hesitation and dug out his own path. It was almost enviable, except that Azriel couldn't fathom being that reckless.
Kieran's lower lip jutted out in something that Azriel called a pout. “Now, you sound like my father.”
Miss Dryden shuddered visibly. “Heaven forbid any of us sound like Lord Azura. I still remember that one time we broke a vase and the look in his eyes. Colder than a glacier, I'd say. Thought he do us all in.”
“That wasn't just any vase,” Kieran corrected, though his eyes twinkled in remembrance. “That was my great-great-grandmama's urn.”
Misae looked horrified. “Is that why it spilled dust everywhere?” she asked as though suddenly connecting the dots.
“Not dust, ashes,” Kieran corrected and tore apart his bread bowl without any manners whatsoever. “Father didn't care that it was an accident. He was furious. It took Mama ages to calm him down.”
Miss Dryden shook her head. “No wonder he was so angry.” She paused, one finger to her chin. “Come to think of it, we didn't spend much time together after that.”
“... Father was really furious,” Kieran repeated, and there was an odd quality to his tone, old anger and resentment mixed together. “I started private lessons a month later.” He made a face.
Azriel wiped his fingers with his handkerchief and carefully tucked it back into his pocket. “How old were you?”
“Seven or eight.” Kieran shrugged. “I don't really remember exactly. After that, it was a blur of tutors and teachers and books. Not that I minded. Writing and reading and math theory and chemistry and biology were interesting. It was the other stuff I could have done without.”
There were times Azriel was grateful for his upbringing. Looking around the table at the others who nodded in sympathy – Tegan excluded – made now one of those times. His mother had arranged for Azriel to have tutors for the basics but choosing to study anything else had been his choice at his own pace. Azriel had challenged himself by soaking up any bit of knowledge he could get his hands on, but the decision had still been his.
Isley tilted her head to the side. “That was around the time of the Hobbs Rebellion wasn't it?”
“History's not exactly my strong suit,” Kieran said.
“It's recent history, Kieran!” Misae exclaimed. She sounded personally offended. “How could you forget?” She stabbed her spoon into her bowl, nearly splashing the stew everywhere. She had only been nibbling on it like a particularly picky bird.
Kieran shrugged dismissively. “Didn't seem important.”
“Didn't seem imp—Professor Hadley, could you please fill this ignorant child in?” Miss Dryden asked, waving a hand through the air.
Azriel idly twitched his spoon through what was left of his own stew. He remembered the Hobbs Rebellion all too well. He'd only been a child at the time, but it had still affected him. Not personally but on an entirely different level.
“Hobbs was one of the farming villages just outside of Meropis,” Azriel explained with a glance to see if anyone around was listening, but they were being ignored by the other diners. “And I say was because the Brigade took control, and it's now an outer district to Meropis. It's no longer owned by the people of Hobbs.”
‘If any of them even still lived,’ but Azriel kept that detail to himself. He didn't think any of them cared.
Tegan, interestingly enough, kept silent on the matter. His eyes darted to Azriel, but he also kept his comments to himself.
“Why?” Kieran asked, and there was something odd to his tone.
“Because the ungrateful peasants decided they were done paying their dues,” Misae answered with an imperious sniff that made Azriel's blood go cold. “They revolted. Complained about all sorts of ridiculous things.”
Azriel worked his jaw. “It was hardly ridiculous. Meropis was demanding more than three-fourths of their crops. They had nothing to live on.”
“Not to mention the taxes,” Tegan added, popping the last of his bread into his mouth as if pretending nonchalance. “All they wanted was a little more independence, a chance to feed their own first. His Kingship didn’t like that.”
“So they sent in the Brigade,” Azriel replied, fingers tapping a nonsense rhythm on the table, the facts of the situation all too clear in the back of his mind. “They never stood a chance, not against trained soldiers.”
Misae rolled her eyes. “It's not like it happened to you. Why are you so offended? His Lordship was doling punishment as was appropriate. They should have never stepped beyond their station.”
It was times like these that Azriel really hated his companions. Perhaps not all of them. But he was solidly reminded of the difference in the way they had been raised. At least, he wasn’t alone in his disgust. Souya had a thunderous look on his face, like he'd been raised not to strike a woman but was seriously reconsidering that lesson.
“Everyone has to pay taxes,” Isley commented, her voice softer than usual. She was just making a point and not trying to be contrary. “Even my family does.”
“Yes, but the difference is, you can afford them,” Souya said.
Azriel admired his restraint, the way his face twitched but he managed to keep the venom from his voice.
Souya rose to his feet, movements jerky but not violent. “I've finished mine,” he stated then. “Anyone else?”
He hadn't even eaten all of it, a rarity for Tegan, but perhaps his stomach was churning like Azriel's own. Or maybe he'd just lost his appetite.
Azriel bit back a sigh and handed over his half-finished bowl. “Same here.”
Tegan kindly collected the leftovers, except for Isley and Kieran who were doggedly determined to finish every last bite of soup and bread, and made for the trash can. Shoulders stiff and set in place. He had to be used to it by now – by the gods Azriel wished that he weren't. But still, it was harder to take when he had to hear it from those he considered friends.
Tension hung over the table. Azriel was in no mood to try and dispel it. Misae looked confused, as though she couldn't fathom why everyone was suddenly quiet and moody. Miss Dryden simply glanced after Tegan, while Isley sunk into her seat.
“Anyway,” Kieran inserted loudly, and Azriel barely kept himself from startling at the sudden burst of noise. “I'm thinking we should play some of the games next.”
Misae wrinkled her nose. “Why? We’re too old for that.”
“But it’d be fun,” Kieran insisted, and there was a note in his voice that dared Misae to argue. “I'd like to win some prizes.”
Isley waved a hand of dismissal. “Those cheap toys that you could easily buy for yourself if you wanted?”
“That's not the point,” Kieran retorted with a winning grin. “The meaning's different when you win them.”
“You used to love the goldfish game,” Miss Dryden commented idly, planting her chin on her palm. “You were the only one of us who could win at it.”
Kieran pulled his lips into a pout. “Father never let me keep them though. He always said that the decorative fish we had in the garden pond were good enough.”
“We could play the sack game.” Isley suggested. “You know, the one where we toss bags through the targets?”
Tegan returned then, plopping down on Kieran's other side and far from Misae. “Those are easy,” he put in, seeming more composed now. But his eyes purposefully didn’t go in Misae’s direction as he looked around the table.
“Maybe for you.” Isley stuck out her tongue.
And just like that, the tension was dispelled. As though Kieran had waved some magic wand of his own and made it happen.
Miss Dryden cleared her throat noisily. “Games are all well and good,” she inserted once she had everyone's attention. “But the sun's setting, and they are about to announce the winner of the ice sculpture contest.”
Misae arched a brow. “And we care why?”
Miss Dryden's cheeks turned a healthy pink .
Kieran just grinned. “Because Lady Dryden made Lyra enter it this year.”
Everyone's gaze swung to her, and Miss Dryden hastily looked away.
“She thought it would help me learn our culture,” she replied, fingers tapping the tabletop. “I have to at least see if I get an honorable mention.”
Isley snorted into her bowl and rose to her feet, still nibbling on the remnants of it. “You all go on ahead then. I have to stop by my family's spot.” She winked. “Dad says he has something for us.”
Kieran perked noticeably, not unlike a puppy with ears cocked and tail wagging. “Is it what I think it is?” he asked, eager stars practically dancing in his eyes.
It was almost... cute. If a bit odd for a boy his age.
Grinning mischievously, Isley passed behind Kieran and gave him a friendly tap to the shoulder. “You'll see,” she replied as she waggled her fingers over her shoulder. “I'll catch up with the rest of you later. I'm pretty sure I can find you.”
Azriel was certain of that as well. They were a large, often noisy group. It couldn't be too hard; just follow the sounds of Kieran's insatiable stomach.
“I hope it's Rozlin,” Kieran said, almost dreamily, his legs kicking under the table.
Souya chuckled. “Do you honestly think her dad is going to give us liquor?”
“A guy can dream.” Kieran sighed dramatically and then all but leapt from his chair, energetic and ready to move on per his usual flurry of activity. “Up and at them, troops. We don't want to miss the sculpture judging, now do we?”
“Joy,” Misae said sarcastically.
For once, Azriel was slightly in agreement with her. He didn't have much interest either, but it was for a member of their group, so he’d tag along.
They gathered themselves together, getting rid of trash that hadn't been collected by Tegan, and as one bundle trudged through the snow toward the corner of the grounds that had been set aside for the contest. A small crowd had already begun to form near the platform where the awards would be issued.
“Which one's yours?” Kieran questioned, rising on his tiptoes and craning his neck to see through the crowd.
Azriel, slightly taller, was having an easier time of it. Many of the entries were boring, displaying little taste or aesthetics. But he did see a few that were impressive. There was one of a multi-armed woman dancing with swirls of water curling around her form that was rather exquisite. He hoped it was the winner.
“Over here.” Miss Dryden pointed. Hooking her arm around Kieran's – much to Tegan's annoyance – she proceeded to drag him through the sea of entries toward the back where hers had been shoved, as if forgotten, into a corner.
Azriel wondered if she had planned it that way on purpose.
Still, as they all crowded around her statue, Azriel had to do a double take. Of all things to carve, Miss Dryden had chosen the image of a crane. It stood gracefully on one leg, eyes turned regally toward the sky.
“It's beautiful,” Tegan breathed, voice filled with a sort of love-struck awe.
Miss Dryden blushed and cleared her throat. “It's plain compared to the others, but even this tiny thing took me hours. I suppose if I were more water-inclined like Kieran, it would’ve been easier.”
Kieran thumbed his chin. “I'm not really artistic like that, but you have a good point. I ought to try it someday when I'm really bored.”
“I like it, too,” Misae said approvingly. “Why did you choose to do a crane though?”
At this, Miss Dryden actually looked embarrassed. “I wanted to do a swan, but I ended up with a crane.” She chuckled and gave a shrug. “My mother liked it at least.”
“It's still beautiful,” Tegan insisted, his own cheeks staining red.
By the gods, it was almost embarrassing to watch the two of them as Miss Dryden murmured a thank you and they shyly looked at each other.
“Well, look at that,” Kieran loudly interrupted, looking amused. “They're announcing the winners! We'd better go see which prize Lyra's taking home.”
Miss Dryden was his friend, but even Azriel would admit that he didn't believe she’d be winning an award. Her crane was well done, but it didn't have the same vibrancy as some of the others Azriel had seen.
As one, they trudged to the judging area and lingered at the back of the crowd, listening for each announced prize. Azriel only gave the judges half an ear as his eyes wandered to the sky, where the setting winter sun had painted the clouds in shades of red. Stars were already peeking over the horizon, and he knew the moon would soon be following soon enough. With the setting of the sun though came an onset of chill that made Azriel pull his coat tighter and dig out his gloves. He'd taken them off to eat, but now, his frigid fingers demanded their return.
By the time the grand prize winner was announced, they learned that Miss Dryden hadn't won anything. She didn't seem too disappointed, shrugging her shoulders and turning away.
“At least Mother can't be angry that I didn't participate,” Miss Dryden commented as Misae squeezed her shoulder consolingly.
Kieran yawned openly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. It was like the moment he escaped his father's presence, he purposely forgot his manners.
“They're going to have fireworks in a bit. We should pick our spot now,” he stated, stretching his arms up over his head with a creak and crack of bone.
“Now?” Misae sounded aghast. “We'll freeze!”
Kieran rolled his eyes. “Not if we light a fire,” he retorted and then added a mischievous smirk. “Besides, if Harper brings what we all hope she's bringing, we'll warm up soon enough.”
“Lush,” Miss Tegan accused playfully.
“I like to enjoy the simple things in life,” Kieran corrected with a twist of his wrists and a faint bow.
First-years had no business touching alcohol, but Azriel wasn't going to be the wet blanket. Even if a part of him was a bit leery of what an intoxicated Kieran might be like. He was already clinging and emotional when sober. What would he be like drunk?
“And I suppose you already have the best spot picked out?” Misae asked, burrowing deeper into her fur-lined jacket. Her nose was already adopting a rosy glow of chill.
“Naturally,” Kieran replied, almost indignant that Misae had implied otherwise.
Azriel wondered if they would notice if he quietly snuck away. They were so wrapped up in their banter, and really, Azriel wouldn't mind a moment to himself during his winter break. He'd been dragged from one end of the festival to the other since early this morning.
He took a cautious step backward as the others started after Kieran's lead. They were always willing to fall into his whims without a second thought.
Azriel had a test to study for, one he knew was going to be sprung on them the day they return to class. He also had a paper due a week later, and Holmes was threatening to require a demonstration to prove what had been learned. Azriel was going to graduate; he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
Another step backward.
As if he'd stepped on some tiny object and made a noise, Kieran whipped around.
“Coming, Azriel?” he asked with his eyebrow cocked and confused.
Azriel, unable to deny anything the younger boy asked of him, sighed and inclined his head.
“Sure.” He tucked his chilly hands into his sleeves and hurried to catch up.
It was for the best anyway. Knowing Kieran, he would’ve discovered Azriel's disappearance and probably sent out a search party. Or, worse, he would’ve marched everyone to Azriel's house to check on him. In that regard, it was much better to stay.
As Azriel caught up to the others, Kieran locked their arms together as though he'd known just what Azriel was trying to do and wasn’t going to allow another attempt. He smiled, held onto Azriel firmly, and like that, the brunet was caught once again.
Despite himself, Azriel smiled, too.
The spot that Kieran claimed he had already chosen was remarkably similar to their favorite spot for lunch. It was a patch of ground mostly cleared of snow beneath a large tree with huge branches. But since it was winter, the tree had been stripped of its leaves by the autumn fall; they had a clear view of the sky above them.
Kieran whipped a large blanket out of seemingly nowhere, perhaps a pocket of non-existence tucked away in his thick coat, and spent ten minutes laying it over the ground and obsessively straightening out every last wrinkle. Azriel thought this a moot point since they were going to sit on it and wrinkle it up again, but when he tried to open his mouth and say as much, Miss Dryden nudged him.
Azriel was graciously allowed first pick of where to sit, something that should’ve embarrassed him if he weren't already used to Kieran's favoritism. He just chose nearest the tree trunk with a vague smile. After that, the rest of them piled on, and Kieran snuggled against his side, claiming loudly that he was cold. Azriel probably would’ve blushed if the young boy hadn't also grabbed Tegan and pulled him against his other side, effectively shielding the breeze and pinning himself between the tallest of them.
Dusk had fallen while they were getting settled. Azriel watched as workers rushed to and fro to light small torches all around the festival grounds, which would still be open a few more hours.
“I hope Harper hurries up,” Kieran said. Though of all of them, he looked the warmest. “I'm starting to get hungry.”
Tegan laughed. “When are you not hungry?”
“I think I have a couple biscuits left. You want them?”
Misae was already rooting around in her pocket for the handkerchief-wrapped snacks she'd bought earlier in the day. They were nothing like what Azriel was used to, glazed in honey and topped with crunchy things like cinnamon-dusted almonds or a crumbling icing. To Azriel, a biscuit was plain. Nothing like these half-desserts that the nobles claimed.
Kieran perked up like an excitable dog, and had he a tail, Azriel was sure it would be wagging.
“Yes, please!”
Misae gamely handed them over with a hint of red in her cheeks that could possibly be due to the snow, and Kieran fell on them with his usual lack of manners. Miss Dryden shook her head, while Tegan watched with an odd sort of fascination.
“Ah, I knew I'd find you here!” Isley's distinctive voice poured into the celebratory atmosphere as she came into view, arms loaded down with what was indeed two bottles. “Kieran always picks the biggest tree he can find.” She waded into the middle of the circle they'd made on the blanket, dropping her load with a relieved sigh.
“And what did you bring us?” Miss Dryden questioned, peering at the bottles with interest.
Kieran's imaginary tail started wagging again. “Is it Rozlin?”
Isley laughed. “Do you really think my dad would give us his best stuff?” she asked, arching a brow. One shaped fingernail tapped the dark bottle. “This is the next – no, the third best thing.”
“Lotmer!” Kieran exclaimed with a sort of childish glee that Azriel should’ve expected. “Did I ever say how much I love you, Harper?” he added as he grabbed the bottle and expertly twisted off the top with a loud pop.
She looked amused. “Not lately. I didn't bring any cups though so you'll have to get over that.”
Kieran wafted the bottle under his nose, eyes fluttering. “It smells delicious. I'm surprised your dad let you leave with it.”
Isley slipped back into the circle, wriggling herself in between Tegan and Kieran, one of the warmest spots to be found. “To be fair he only let me leave with one,” she said with a wink. “But I knew that wouldn't be enough to sate your appetite.” She reached for the second bottle, opening it with her own deft twist. After taking a swig, she passed it to Tegan, who looked uncertain after he accepted it.
“Drink up!” Isley put in with another one of her manly back-slap. “It's not often you get to drink Isley liquor for free. Enjoy it while you can.”
“Well, when you put it that way...” Tegan shrugged and tipped back the bottle.
Kieran had eagerly taken a drink of the bottle he'd claimed, and he only passed it along when Isley poked him in the side with her finger. With much reluctance, Kieran handed it to Azriel, who examined the label. Despite Isley claiming it was third-best, it was still high-end liquor. It was something Azriel would probably find in his uncles’ cabinet but never at his own home.
Azriel took a cautious sip and was surprised by the light, fruity flavor that danced across his tongue. It was as if someone had pressed strawberries and peaches and made them light and airy. Sweet things weren't usually to his taste, but he actually liked this. He supposed that was what he should expect of the high-end alcohol.
Licking his lips, Azriel passed the bottle to Miss Dryden, who didn't hesitate. “This is my favorite,” she murmured over the mouth of the bottle. “Kieran can keep his Rozlin.”
“Anyone know when the fireworks will be starting?” Misae inquired, surprisingly Azriel with her willingness to drink after Miss Dryden. Though admittedly, she wiped the bottle with her handkerchief.
As if her words had called them into being, the night sky suddenly lit up with sound and color, prompting their entire group to look upward. Not that it stalled the liquor as they continued their circulation around the friends.
Azriel leaned back against the tree, watching the bright colors explode across the sky, and had to admit to himself that staying had turned out alright. He sipped at the bottle, watched as Kieran started giggling – he couldn't hold his liquor, no surprise there – and enjoyed the fireworks show. It had been a good idea to attend the festival for once.
Several hours later, the fireworks over, the two bottles completely emptied, and their bellies full of fried dumplings rolled in honey – courtesy of Miss Dryden – they gathered themselves together to leave. Azriel collected the blanket, shook it out and folded it, watching with much amusement as Kieran stood unsteadily, swaying a little back and forth. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes like a little kid fighting back yawns.
It was almost cute.
Misae had parted almost an hour earlier, citing a need to catch up on beauty sleep. Isley had sniggered loudly at this, causing Misae to storm off in a huff, cheeks pink from too much drinking. Now, Isley and Miss Dryden were leaning on one another, faces just as red but lips wide with identical grins.
Azriel felt like the long-suffering adult stuck watching a group of grade-school children. He sighed as he tucked the folded blanket under his arms.
“The workers are getting annoyed,” he said, trying to herd his slightly inebriated friends toward the exit. Indeed, those trying to clean up after the second night of the festival were shooting hostile looks in their direction. “Time to go home.”
Kieran made a noise better suited to a sulking child. “I don't want to go home.” He latched onto Azriel's side, fingers squeezing as he looked up imploringly. “I'll just go home with you. I don't think Miss Neorah will mind.”
Of course she wouldn't. Azriel's mother had taken quite the liking to Kieran. He'd seen them plotting on more than one occasion, and she'd already spilled some embarrassing things that Azriel would’ve liked to keep secret.
“Why don't--”
Miss Dryden giggled, latching onto Kieran's other side, poking his cheek with her fingers. “Sounds to me like someone made dear daddy angry again,” she put in a sing-song voice. “What did you do this time?”
Azriel grunted, nearly tripping over his own feet at the added weight. Kieran was leaning on him and Miss Dryden on Kieran, and it felt like he was carrying both of them.
Kieran reddened, eyes bright with intoxication. “It was an accident!” he declared stubbornly. “Father just doesn't know how to forgive.”
Laughter echoed around Azriel, who sighed and struggled to drag his uncooperative friends toward the exit gate.
However, just to make things more complicated, that was when Tegan decided to drop down on Azriel's other side, heavier and less helpful than Kieran and Miss Dryden combined.
“You know what,” he said, a touch too loud, words a bit slurred. For such a large person, he couldn't hold his liquor any better than Kieran. “You're such a good guy, Azriel. I don't care what they say about you.”
Azriel blinked. “Thanks... I think.”
Was that a compliment?
“I mean it,” Tegan imparted loudly, weight a little heavier, a little warmer, his warm breath smelling of Lotmer and sweet dumplings. “You work really hard. You're a good guy. A great one even!”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Tegan,” Azriel responded, quite certain that the taller boy would remember none of this come morning, though he might hate himself for the headache that was sure to strike. “Let's go to the exit. Hurry now.”
He felt like their father then. Azriel wasn’t sure he liked it.
Tegan made a frustrated sound, and Azriel turned to address him once more, thinking he might even need to grab onto Tegan to keep him standing. But warm hands suddenly cupped Azriel's face, and his eyes widened as a pair of lips sloppily landed over his, pressed against his mouth in a drunken parody of kiss. Azriel stiffened, unable to respond, his mind stuttering to a complete halt.
Tegan. It had to be Tegan. No one else was this tall.
His mind stuttered to a halt.
Tegan was kissing him. Tegan. Was. Kissing. Him. On the mouth. Mouth to mouth. Kissing him.
Kissing.
Him.
Something in his soul crumbled away and died, and in his shock, Azriel didn't think to defend himself. When the tongue joined the party, he tasted the sweetness of Lotmer once again.
The kiss ended rather abruptly. His first kiss at that. And given to Tegan no less. If he were a different sort of person, Azriel would’ve found himself responding by force, possibly a knee to the crotch, and definitely a punch to the face.
Instead, he could only stare in utter bewilderment.
“You... your tongue was in my mouth!” he declared as Tegan blinked drunkenly at him, and the girls broke into amused titers. “Why was your tongue in my mouth?”
Tegan scratched at his chin. “It seemed like you needed it.”
He said it completely nonchalant. Like he randomly kissed men all the time or just whoever happened to be conveniently nearby. Perhaps he did for all Azriel knew. But that thought was vaguely disturbing and made his stomach give a distinct twist.
“Oh, way to go, Souya!” Kieran grumbled, sounding half-outraged, his grip on Azriel's arm tightening. “Slobber all over Azriel, why don't you?”
“No, that's not really the issue here,” Azriel said weakly, completely baffled.
Tegan, however, just squared his shoulder and rose to his full height. “I bet you can't do better,” he shot back, wobbling in place, as though he was going to fall over at any moment.
“Of course I can!” Kieran exclaimed, indignant.
“But--”
As though he hadn't spoken at all, Kieran whirled around and sealed their mouths together in a kiss even sweeter than Tegan's had been. He took his time with it, mouth a careful peck, then applying more pressure before his tongue slid across Azriel's lips as though trying for a quick taste. The kiss deepened, and Azriel just knew that everyone was staring. His entire face felt hot, his ears burning. Then, Kieran's tongue slid into his mouth, and it was a whole different experience.
In the background, someone whistled. It had to be Isley.
The noise was enough to startle Azriel into pulling away. Kieran rocked back onto his heels, too. His eyes were shining mischievously, tongue dragging over his lips as though savoring a taste.
“Man, that almost makes a girl jealous,” Isley inserted with another appreciative whistle. She tapped her mouth with two fingers. “Come on, Kieran, where's mine? Share the love!”
“If you insist,” Kieran said, and right then and there in the street, the two inebriated friends started kissing.
Azriel felt a sudden jab behind his eyes. He wondered if his sanity had just died.
Miss Dryden sighed. “And that's another reason Kieran should never drink. He turns into an affectionate monster.”
But her eyes kept skipping between Azriel and Tegan as she chewed on her bottom lip. Azriel, for his part, was trying to both keep Tegan on his feet and remain as far away from him as possible in case he got any more ideas.
One of the workers approached them then. She looked tired and irritated, the skin around her eyes pinched.
“The festival is now closed ladies and gentlemen,” she said tightly and performed a shallow bow. “Please depart quickly and carefully.”
Azriel gave a rushed exhale; it was just the break he needed. He grabbed Kieran's arm, threw the blanket over his head, and then pulled Tegan along, too.
“Come on, you two. I don't envy your headache in the morning.”
Surprisingly docile, they allowed his manhandling, and Isley and Miss Dryden latched onto their other sides, more coherent and balanced.
They left under the watchful, glaring eyes of the workers, giggles spreading amongst the inebriated, and Azriel bit back another exhausted sigh. He'd chosen this, if he'd recall correctly. It was too late to walk away now.
a/n: I do hope that put a smile on your face! I'm hard at work at more chapters so we'll see you again in two more weeks!
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
