July 13, 1178
Sparron set down the tankard and slumped over. He wasn't drunk but it wasn't for lack of trying; his father had a decent collection back home, but nothing Searle kept seemed to be strong enough. Not that Searle had ever needed liquor.And yet, if Searle knew that Sparron had taken to turning in moderately intoxicated for the sheer vanity of blaming any nighttime scares on the alcohol, the whole room and the one beside it would have be stacked to the ceiling with wine that could kill an elephant. God, he made that boy stupid. He'd hoped Lettie would have been better for him. Maybe she had been, before it had come to this.
"There you are."
Certainly no one did him any good now."What are you doing in here? You should be in bed."
"So should you." And yet, he picked up the tankard and slid over so they could both sit comfortably without any risk of head-to-tap collisions. No one did Sparron any good either--except maybe his father. Should've just gone to bed when he'd been told.
"The kids are pretty cute, aren't they?" Searle took the open spot, just as bad of a judge as he'd always been. "Does the boy have a name yet?"
Sparron raised the cup to his lips and took in the last swig of weak ale. "Prior."
"What, like a monk?"He shook his head. "No, like... 'before'..."
Before he'd gotten sick. Before his stepmother's ill spells had become so frequent. Before his sister had gotten stuck with her asshole husband, before this whole thing with Searle had ever started. Back when he'd been happy. He'd thought the name a compliment, but maybe it was an undue burden.
Searle snickered. "What kind of a name is that?"
"My son's name."
"Right." Searle must have picked up on the connotations. That wasn't surprising. He wasn't as stupid as he seemed, most of the time. "Sparron?"Or maybe he was. And maybe Sparron was too. "What?"
"Why did you say it was your idea?"
Should've saved that last swig. "I thought my father would go easier on me."
"Why?"
He shrugged. It was insufficient even by his standards, but if Searle knew the half of it, he'd never hear the end. "Just a thought."
"Oh." The word hung suspended between them like a spider lowering from the rafters. Searle's eyes were wide with an uncomfortable self-pity; awkward, Sparron tried to focus on the door. "You're sure that's it?"
"I'm sure."
But as always, Searle wasn't.
"Shh." He turned and crawled over, knees on either side of Sparron's thigh, one shaking hand resting tentatively on the shoulder. He was so damn gentle it was too much to bear. "Sparron...""Don't."
The word went unheard and soft fingers played with his hair and brushed along his jawline. Thank God for the weak alcohol. Anything stronger and he would have had to lean forward. "We can't..."
"Shh." The line of that perfect nose rested against his forehead, the knee between his legs dragging nearer, a steady stream of blood pooling in his groin. "I miss you."I wish you didn't. "Searle, don't."
The nose slipped to his own, sapphire eyes sparkling in front of his own, lips like silk just a tilt of the chin away. The eyes pulled away as the mouth inched nearer. Nearer... nearer...
That was it. He couldn't take this any more. "Enough!"
His hand flew to Searle's side and shoved him off, a little harder than intended. Searle stared up at his like a dying animal, pretty lip trembling, starry eyes startled, even scared. For a second, Sparron let himself be horrified, but it was an indulgence he should have resisted. It had to be done.
"Why do you keep pushing me aside?"
He couldn't look. He stood, back toward Searle, eyes on the wall. There was too much blond and blue in the drab olive wood. "What do I have to do to make you go away?"
Silence.
"Just leave me alone, Searle."
He couldn't even add 'for your own good', not when Searle had a history of treating that as an invitation. He couldn't even apologize for shoving him. All he could do was walk away, return to his guest chamber and lock the door and douse the candles, then spend the night sobbing into his pillow and praying he didn't wake his father in the next room."Sparron--"
He'd hoped they could be friends. But Searle didn't do friends, not when he wished said friends were something more. Sparron couldn't do something more. It was a weakness he could not handle, and a strength he did not possess.
"Leave. Me. Alone!"
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