Who: Tristan and Wren What: Sad breakdowns in large apartments Where: Aubade 402 When: Monday Evening? Warnings: Will the sadness ever end??!?
For all his brave words to Alfie in the past, Tristan didn’t handle death well. And now she was gone and for someone that he’d known for such a short period of time, he had no idea how to deal with her not being there any more. When he’d told her that she could live for decades yet, part of him had believed it, had expected it, had somehow thought that she would pass out of his life before he had to deal with her dying. He hadn’t been prepared for it, in any case, and he wished now for her to send him a note, as frustrating and alive as she’d always been.
Instead, he was left with her huge empty apartment, the silence pressing down on him as he typed uncharacteristic things to a stranger on the forums.
As good as her word, Wren had grabbed her coat and left for Aubade as soon as she’d signed off with Tristan. She hadn’t known the woman who died, but she did know that the woman had given Tristan a studio, which Tristan had accepted. That, in her mind, meant the relationship must have been a close one. She didn’t think you left apartments to someone you didn’t love.
It was cold and crisp out, a sort of clean feeling in the air after all the blood and nightmares, and she walked most of the way, only hopping a cab when she reached parts of the city that were being actively cleaned. It looked like when a hurricane came back when she was little, that same kind of chaos and aftermath. It had felt a little like that during, too, listening to the radios and hoping everyone made it out okay.
By the time she reached Aubade, the front doors were already being worked on, and the guard wasn’t at his post. Familiar with the building, thanks to Cassidy and having redesigned Eve’s apartment a lifetime ago, she made her way up to 402 without fanfare, and she opened the door and closed it softly behind her.
It was quiet, and Wren thought it felt like a tomb. “Tris?” she called out.
He’d recently woken from yet another short dream, rising to a sort of half-awake state between each one, but rarely coming to full consciousness until he heard Wren’s voice. He pushed himself slowly to a sitting position with his good arm, legs over the edge of the bed and shoulders slumped. It took another moment before he took a breath and called back. “I’m here.” His voice was quiet, but with nothing else moving in the house, it carried.
She heard his voice, and it sounded like an echo in something hollow, and she walked toward it. The apartment was too modern for her taste, too vast and empty and unlived in, and she wasn’t surprised it made Tristan feel worse. She climbed the stairs, so similar to Cassidy’s, yet so different, and she peeked in seven empty bedrooms until she found him, holed up in a room in the back that looked more like a hotel room than a place where someone lived.
She kicked off her snow boots, and she let her coat fall to the ground, and she climbed up onto the bed with him and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. She realized his arm was hurt, and she was careful of it, but the embrace was the best comfort she could offer, and so she just held on.
It took her a few minutes to reach him after he called out, and he closed his eyes let himself not-think for those moments. When she appeared in the door, he realized how glad he was to have someone else there with him. Her arms were warm, and she felt whole and alive and nearly vibrant after the past few days. Using his good arm, he reached out to wrap it around her, pulling her close and hiding his face against the side of her neck, closing his eyes again and forcing himself to just breathe her in.
If he focused, he could hear the traffic on the street below, still lighter than usual due to the repairs going on in the city. He listened to that and Wren’s heartbeat for a while before finally swallowing hard, not quite able to get rid of the rough grate in his voice when he spoke. “Thank you.” He didn’t pull away at all, his voice barely making it past his lips, caught in the curve of Wren’s neck.
She tangled fingers in his long black hair, gently freeing knots and snarls, the touch a soothing one. “You aren’t allowed to thank me,” she said softly, glad to hear her voice, to hear that he was okay and talking. She’d feared he would be different somehow, that this would have changed him. “Not ever,” she said, snuggling warmly closer.
He sighed, the air ghosting along her neck, shaking his head but still not pulling back. “I am. You’re still here for now. So thank you.” He pulled her closer with his good arm, then carefully arranged his injured arm around her as well, clinging to her as best he could. Part of him wanted to pour everything out for her, ramble his way through what he was feeling, but he simply held on and tried to feel warm again with her in his arms.
“We’ll stay here, if you want,” she said, because she assumed he would want to be close to the person he’d lost. “We’ll make it a good place, somewhere you’re warm and happy. I think she would have wanted that if she left it to you. Not for it to be empty,” she said, and she kept tugging gentle fingers through his hair, her feet tangling with his. “Tell me things. Anything you want to say, anything you need to say.”
He took a moment to breathe and think, recalling his earlier conversation on the forum with someone that had known Alfie. “I think... yeah. Stay here.” He paused, relaxing the slightest bit with the feel of her fingers in his hair. He took a long time to think of what he wanted to say. “I don’t know what to do with the things here. I was never here before she died, but it feels too much like her. But I don’t want to get rid of things either.” He paused, thinking some more. “And the lease for the studio runs for a year, it’s all paid, but there are so many rooms here. I wouldn’t have to leave if I moved my things into one of the rooms. Maybe rent the studio to someone else?”
“I think everything here is owned, not rented,” she said. “I bet it’s yours without anything to pay.” She rubbed a soft-smooth cheek against one of his. “I think she would want you to make it yours,” she said. “We can donate the things inside, if you want, to people who really need it. Start from nothing. The apartment will always remind you of her, even without the furniture inside it,” she reasoned. “And I think renting the studio is a good idea, too. You can work here.”
He sighed into her gentle touch, moving enough so that he could rest his head against hers instead of tucking it against her neck. His thoughts were moving slowly, as if they had to navigate around the grief to get out. “I haven’t had a chance to read the leases at all. I don’t know if it’s owned or rented or... something else. Even if it’s owned, there’s no way I can afford to heat a place this big. Or anything else that goes with living here. I can’t afford to get new things if I get rid of hers.” He swallowed hard, voice rough again. “The only reason I could even pay our heat at Hamartia was because of her paying more for paintings than they were worth.”
“I’ll help,” Wren said, knowing it would mean giving up her Hamartia apartment and not caring, not when Tristan needed help. “It can’t cost more than our apartments, the electricity,” she added, “and maybe we’ll get more work somewhere like this. We can work out of here, maybe?” And there were a lot of wes in that sentence, but friends stuck together when things were hard, didn’t they? “Are you sure she didn’t leave money for those things, though?” she asked, because it would seem if she’d had enough money for this, she would have known Tristan needed money for upkeep, too.
His arms tightened around her a bit at the talk of wes, grateful to her but also guilty. “You don’t have to, Wren. I’ll... be able to figure this out once I can think straight again.” He’d never even thought to check the official information for anything about financial upkeep, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t hiding in there somewhere. He swallowed hard and took a breath, finally pulling back to look at her. “But you could stay here if you want. I know you have your own apartment, but there’s plenty of rooms here. More than I could fill even when Genny’s around. You can make some your own.”
It wasn’t like asking someone you were in a relationship with to move in with you. It was almost a business offer, but with the underlying need for friendship and someone near in that moment. “You would never have to pay rent here if you did.”
“I want to pay my share,” she said, sure of that. “You’re doing me a favor, too, you know. Hamartia is terrible, especially on the lower apartments. And I was serious about bringing my friend. He and my uncle are roommates, and he was shot, and I was going to make him stay in my apartment while he recuperated. But I don’t think I can now.” She shook her head a little. “But I don’t want to take advantage, so we’ll pay our share.” She kissed his cheek softly. “I don’t want you alone,” she admitted softly. “It’ll be harder to feel lonely with all of us around.”
He hesitated for a moment, not liking the idea of her having to pay rent. “How about if you just figure out what to do with the apartment. I like your room in Hamartia. It always felt warm when I visited.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I know what to do with all this space anyway. It would be better to not be alone here, I think.” He looked at her, searching for a moment. “If you trust them, they can stay here.”
She snuggled closer, tucking her head beneath his chin, her arms wrapping tighter around him. “Okay, but I’m still paying,” she said. “I don’t want anyone saying I’m taking advantage, Tristan, and people are really quick to say that if a girl moves in with a man who just became rich,” she said, reaching up and tucking a curl behind Tristan’s ear, comforting and soothing. “I trust my uncle and Hal. They’re idiots sometimes, and they’re like me, not exactly on the right side of things, but I trust them.”
He frowned, but puller her closer, not having even thought about that side of things. He stayed quiet for a long while, thinking more. “Would it not be good for you to move in? Is it... going to be okay if they move in too? I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” He shifted just enough to reach up to rub his forehead.
“I want to,” she said honestly, voice dropping. “Since the kidnapping, being alone in the apartment isn’t very good. If you don’t mind me, and if you don’t mind the kitten and the kind of work I might maybe bring home?” she said the last part unsurely. She wouldn’t work out of there if he didn’t want her to, even if she was paying rent.
He hesitated, knowing what sort of work she was talking about. He’d never been entirely comfortable about her job, but he knew he had no right to say anything about it. Instead, he looked at her and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, mirroring what she’d done for him earlier. “There’s enough rooms... what if you worked downstairs somewhere and up here can be private?” He tried to smile. “Kittens are allowed upstairs.”
She smiled thankfully, and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth softly. “There’s a room in the bottom back that I can use,” she said. “I decorated an apartment here for a friend, and someone I-” she paused. “Someone I cared about lived here, too, once. I know the layout pretty well.” She looked into his dark-circled, haunted eyes. “It’ll be okay, Tris. I know it doesn’t seem it right now, but it will be eventually.”
He held her eyes for only a moment before he leaned in to wrap his arms around her again, careful of his injured one. Hiding his face against her hair, he whispered softly. “Just wait a while before you go thinking of leaving okay? I won’t stop you when you have to go, but... just give me a little time to bounce back, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, wrapping herself warmly around him. “As long as you’re willing to have me here, I’ll be here.”
He sighed, allowing himself to believe her for the time being, even though neither one of them could predict what tomorrow was going to bring. At least he was pretty sure that Wren couldn’t. Instead of replying, he let himself be held for a long time. He knew he was going to fall asleep again. He wasn’t sure that the dreams would be any different, but it was almost better at times than being awake. Though maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with her there.
“You can move in whenever you want. I haven’t had a chance to look around, but all I really want is two rooms. And there should be one for Genny. Otherwise...” He trailed off, the thought never quite reaching its end. He stayed quiet until clearing his throat softly. “I think I’m going to sleep some more now.”
She made a sound that was soft reassurance. “I’ll get my things once we wake up,” she told him, thinking something in the space that wasn’t reminiscent of the woman who’d lived there would be good. She yawned, snuggled closer and closed her eyes, too. “Good night, Tris.”
He settled the covers over them, pulling her close and almost clinging a bit to her. He didn’t know if he would end up in her dreams again like he had in the past with her sleeping so close. The greyness pulled him in quickly once he closed his eyes, guiding him down into sleep and into the dreams of Seattle’s residents. And again the rain began to fall in the dreams.