Week Six: Monday - Narrative
Night time. The days had become a bane to Bastian for more reason then just the inability to stand the light. Each day meant that he'd have to lie. Each day meant Maggie would worry for the fact that he didn’t seem willing to get out of bed. Each day was another excuse, a pathetic attempt to deny having to speak the truth as to why he couldn't join them for breakfast in that well lit dinning area. His father helped in the excuses now and that only made Bastian feel that much worse. The old man...he wasn't even willing to believe it until he saw what the light could do to him. Of course he'd apologized for not believing, for making it go to such extremes to prove it. But Bastian had seemed unphased by that slight pain...maybe that more then anything was why his father had apologized so greatly. A reality more then just what he was beginning to sink in.
He knew he had to tell them. He planned to. With his old man on his side he thought maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to take. No matter how it was done it wouldn't be an east conversation. If he could go the rest of their lives never speaking it he would. He didn't want to see the way they'd look at him. He didn't want them to realize what he really was now. But he had to tell them. He couldn't hide forever. Tonight wasn't the night for it though. There was too much going on, everyone separated. Tonight he and the old man would be running the bar. A start to a week where Bastian was damned determined to keep the place open everyday.
With the fall of night Bastian met up with his father and headed to the Barking Spider. At the least that place hadn't changed. But the place wasn't quite as John had left it the night before. No as they pulled up Bastian saw the flowers left. Flowers that the old man tried to jump out of the car first to get to. The fact that he did made Bastian react even quicker. Getting to them before the old man could grab them up and toss them out. "What's the deal?" Bastian questioned, making a face at his father as he grabbed the keys from his pocket, opening the place up and flicking on the lights.
"Nothing, sure they are just for Sophie or something. Giv'em here and I'll get them in some water." Bastian arched a brow at his dad "Who's Sophie getting flowers from?" he questioned, grabbing the card and handing the flowers to his pops like the man asked. He could hear his heart rate pick up. Could hear that subtle sigh. It wasn't a reaction made if it all meant nothing. Bastian opened up the card, reading it....once...twice...and again.
“Who’s Daren dad?” if it wasn’t for that tension he could feel coursing through his fathers veins he might have been able to get away with the story he tried to spin. “Friend of Sophies, told you boy. Kid doesn’t seem to get the picture is all. Keeps leaving crap here for her. She just throws it out most of the time.” He nodded, but Bastian could almost smell the lie. His old man was trying, really trying, to keep this meaningless. Nothing big, don’t even worry a bout it. But the blood…it always gave people away. As much as Bastian hated it, as much as it made him sick that he could notice it…
“Dad…” the word held a slight edge, one that made John’s eyes narrow to match Bastian’s own. “If it was just some kid you wouldn’t be sweating right now. I couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest as you try to pick the right words….” The words seemed to take John back a little. He knew what Bastian was but it was still new. Too new. And that sort of statement just sealed how real it was that he wasn’t human. That he was something else. Something that John knew nothing about.
“Boy it isn’t my place to say…” he tried to start but Bastian was up to the counter in a second, closing that distance in a blink of the eye. “You know, what is this all about? You think I can just brush it off now?” he knew…he knew without even having to be told. The tension, the worry, he knew his father too well. All these years had passed and he could still read the old man. He didn’t want to say, he didn’t want to hurt him. But Bastian couldn’t just ignore it.
“Bas…you were gone a long time and all. He…” he didn’t finish the statement, his words paused as he looked at Bastian. His fingers were white where they curled around the bar counter. His eyes were narrowed…it was a side of Bastian that John hadn’t seen before. A side that made his heart race all that much more. “Boy you been keeping your own share of secretes you know.” They were the wrong words, a chair near to Bastian suddenly was thrown across the room, shattering to pieces. “Don’t. Don’t even try to tell me this is the same.” His words held warning, a sharp tone that took the older man back.
“I have been here for two weeks nearly. Two weeks back in their lives and this man still send gifts? He hasn’t been told? He still sends flowers to this fucking bar? He still thinks himself a part of their lives?” John had a hard time trying to get a word in about it. He couldn’t say he’d been happy about it all either but eight years was as long time. They all had to try to move on. Even if he’d never really liked the guy.
“Son…” Bastian shook his head, pushing away from the bar roughly and grabbing up his jacket that had been tossed to a table when they first came in. “Bastian where are you going?” Bastian didn’t respond, he just moved for the door. John quickly got between him and his destination. “Move.” Bastian needed out of here, he needed space to move. Bastian had known there was chance of this. He had known that they would move on. That she would move. Why wouldn’t she? There was no reason to think him alive. No reason to keep hope or wait. But did that mean it didn’t hurt? That he wanted to fucking see flowers left for her from another man? That he wanted to know that the man still was sending them. That he could take seeing the word love written upon the paper?
John stood his ground for a moment until Bastian took a step forward, his features twisting just slightly “I said move dad.” The words were edged with a growl. A growl that made the man back up. No…the lies weren’t the same. This was why Bastian didn’t want to tell them. Because deep down…he was fucking like this.
Deep down he could make them afraid.
John moved and Bastian quickly made his way out into the stormy night.