Re: By the bonfire: Holly/Trav
Holly hadn't believed a single weird thing at first. But then he'd been inundated with them, right? I mean, he couldn't name one person he knew who didn't have some massively weird thing going on, and so now he just went with it. Holly was amazingly good at developing survival instincts, and this was just one of them. If he fought everything weird that he came across? He'd go completely nuts, and he wasn't interested in going completely nuts. So, yeah, he accepted. Some people on the other side of the fire were arguing, and we can blame that on Holly's suppressed emotions about new weirdness, but he was unaware of that entirely. He just looked at Travis, and he waited for the explanation of what he, Travis, had seen. I mean, it helped that he liked Travis? Even if the guy wanted to go back to a place Holly absolutely did not want to go back to, he liked the guy. In spite of it? In spite of it.
So, he watched as Travis rubbed his jaw, and he swallowed down his own surfacing, active memories of his dad. Look, his dad wasn't a bad guy. Holly constantly told himself that, you know, throughout his lifetime. His dad had lost something he couldn't live without, and he'd replaced that person with booze. And the guy wasn't, like, violent when he wasn't drinking. When he wasn't drunk? Dad was sad, crying, and constantly talking about Mom and her love for the store. It was like two different people, and he always said the booze made him sick. He was always apologetic, and that would be good for a day or two, and then shit would hit the fan again. Anyway, he blinked too quickly after Travis explained, and then he held out his hand, because if Travis had a memory? He wanted one in return. It was kinda like making things even or something.
And maybe he wasn't actually expecting it to work. Even Travis had seemed unsure at the offset, right?
But it did work, and Holly understood what it was like to, like, experience something rather than see it.
He'd never felt like this. Like, adrenaline and shock and happiness and pride. The roar of victory, and this insane feeling of belonging to something was overwhelming and new. New, because Holly had never been on any team. He'd never had close friends. He'd pretty much skated through life as a loner, and there had never been success, not like this. Even the tiny wins had been enjoyed alone, and this was nothing like this. He pulled his hand back, still feeling the texture of the ball and the silent hush of the crowd waiting, his own heart in his throat and please go in.
But there was something that was familiar to him, and that was the sour feeling of not having anyone there for him... for Travis. He knew that feeling. God, yeah, he knew that feeling, and he rubbed his palm on his thigh and looked at the guy. "Were your folks not there because you weren't, like, from there? Or was that here, before? Or...?" And then he realized Travis might not realize what he, Holly, had experienced. "It was a game, a big one, and you won, but your people weren't watching," he explained, and Holly being Holly? There was no pity in his voice. Just a kinda, hey, this is how it is tone, and that was it.
And, lastly, "could you do this before?" This, and he waggled his fingers.