Meliora - Extricate - 18

[lady_mab]

Lysander Stavros

I've only been to the college campus once before, and that was for the exact same field trip last year. A cluster of third years trail along behind me, eyes wide as they watch the university swirl around them in a cloud of activity. Zoné sticks close to my side, alone.

All of his friends are in different groups. He sulked about it at first, but then the sulking turns to something different and he walks in silence.

I don't know how to handle him when he's moody. He's normally so loud and cheerful that it's hard to keep up with him, even though I've been his teacher for a few months, and his Informant to boot.

When we've been dismissed for lunch, he doesn't automatically pull out the small black lacquered box that Jun brought him earlier in the day. He tries to say something, stops, then tries a second time.

"I want to talk about Glen," he finally manages, which isn't what I expected.

I stop walking to face him. We're in the middle of one of the many quads, having been left to our own devices for forty-five minutes. "Is there something wrong?" I don't know Glen that well -- he's a quiet kid, keeps to himself, even though he sits with Beat in the back corner and I can always count on Beat to be talking in the middle of class about something unrelated.

He shuffles his feet, looking down at the ground. I'm not that much taller than him, but he somehow manages to make himself look a lot smaller with his shoulders hunched up to his ears. "I think he's participating in Meliora."

I stare at him.

I keep staring at him when the words fail to make sense.

"You think he's what?" I ask, certain that I heard him wrong.

"Meliora. Participating. Well, no. Informant. I don't think he's a Participant like Jun and myself." He kicks at an invisible pebble and glances up at me. "Did you see him at the meeting?"

I think back to the Informant meeting that we had back before the game officially started. Kaito and I made it a mission to try and talk to almost everyone, and the teenagers definitely stood out in the crowd. But I don't know if I saw him there. I didn’t know him at the time.

Slowly, still uncertain, I shake my head. "There's a chance he might have been avoiding me if he noticed me but... I only just met him at the start of the school year in class. He was taking maths over the summer, wasn't he?"

Zoné nods, despondent. "Yeah. I think he asked Ayu to install the Meliroa app on his phone."

So that must have been what his outburst on Friday had been about. He avoided my questions at the time, and brushed off my texts later to see if everything was alright. "Then is Ayumu on his team?"

He shakes his head this time. "No, the app was screwing with his OS. He took it to Lio to try and see what was wrong with it."

I run a hand back through my hair, thinking this over. If Glen is an Informant, then I definitely need to take him aside to talk to him about it. His grades haven't started to suffer, but it's obvious that his health has. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

Zoné stares at me with his wide, pale green eyes and looks like he's seen a ghost. "Fuck no. I can't just casually bring that up in conversation. Besides, I need to talk to Jun about it first."

A frown tugs at my lips before I can stop it. "You might just be better off... jumping right into it, you know?"

He balks at the idea. "Nope, can't do that. I'm not prepared. I need to mentally prepare myself."

"For talking to your friend?"

"For cornering my friend." His lips purse and he taps his foot impatiently against the ground. "I don't know. How am I supposed to bring it up?"

I wave a hand in the direction of the rest of the campus. "I don't know, Zoné. Just sit him down and ask 'are you participating in Meliora?"

"What if he isn't?"

"Then make something up."

He chews on his lip, but doesn't seem to be any closer to an answer.

I sigh and shake my head. "You can't beat yourself up over this. From the standpoint of a concerned teacher, Glen looks like he might need someone to talk to. But that's just what I've noticed in class. I don't know if he's always like that, which is where you come in." I reach out and clap a hand to his shoulder.

Zoné looks so crestfallen that I feel like I might have said something wrong. "There's something else--" he starts, but then his gaze settles on something over my shoulder and his eyes go wide as saucers before immediately narrowing with annoyance. "Oh. It's you."

"Hello, Zoné," a pretty voice says, posh and bright. "Remember me yet?"

"No. Go away."

I am about to tell him to stop being rude to strangers, and I turn around to apologize on his behalf, but I'm caught off guard by the redhead that stands behind me.

She's slight, with a well-built frame beneath casual clothes. Her eyes are round and a brilliant blue, and I realize that I recognize the way that they pinch in the corner as she smiles. Her gaze shifts up to me, and the grin falters, then slowly drops away.

"I thought I said go away," Zoné butts in, moving to stand beside me. "C'mon, Lysander, I said there was something else--"

I nudge him, hard, and he grumbles.

She reacts physically to the name, retreating back a step as if struck and putting a hand to her mouth. "Oh," she says softly.

"I'm not going to introduce you, if that's what you're asking," Zoné cuts in, but I ignore him.

"Ayn?" The name slips out before I can stop it.

"What?" Zoné says, glancing between us. "Wait, what? You know her?"

Her smile flickers a degree at Zoné's continued questions. "Lysander. It's been awhile."

That's an understatement. That is one hell of a fucking understatement. I try several times to say something, but my voice keeps drying up and faltering in the back of my throat. I tug at my sleeves, even though I never wear anything short in order to cover the marks. Even though it's been years since I've last used, I feel like she can see straight through me. Her eyes have always had that effect.

I finally manage a strained, "It's been, what, six years?"

"I believe that sounds about right." She lifts a hand and tosses her bright red hair over her shoulder. "How strange to see you here."

"Strange," I echo, and she tilts her head to the side in question. "How do you know Zoné?"

"We--" he starts, but she pins him with a look that I can't interpret and manages to stop him in his tracks. He swallows down whatever he was going to say.

"We used to be neighbors,” Ayn cuts in, her smile dazzling but edged.

I glance at him, watching him struggle with a war that barely makes it past his surface level expressions. “You lived in New Ox?”

“Yes,” Zoné grits out, though it takes a considerable amount of effort. That’s all he offers. He doesn’t ask how we know each other, and I’m thankful for that.

I don’t remember Ayn being friends with many people, but to be perfectly honest, my memories of my time in New Oxford are a bit hazy. There is the possibility that she spent time with someone other than her mother or myself.

Or perhaps this was after I left. After her mother kicked me out.

“I was friends with his brother,” she explains when nothing else comes from Zoné.

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and looks away.

“Oh.” I feel hopeless and lost, adrift in a way that I haven’t in years. She does a remarkable job of appearing in control. Is she even as affected by this as I am? “Small world.”

Ayn’s expression shifts, barely discernible, but I’ve spent hours watching the minute ways her face changes with her emotions. “It’s been six years.” For a moment, it feels like she wants to say more. The sentence isn’t finished. She holds her breath, and I wait.

Then she exhales and my shoulders slump.

Her gaze drops from mine, and a shiver goes through me. This is where she says goodbye, where she’ll walk away and I won’t get to see her again. Not that I know how I’m feeling after all these years.

I remember her, despite everything. That has to count for something, right?

“Wait--” I say, reaching out and catching her elbow.

Her eyes widen, flick to where I’m gripping her, then switch to my face. They narrow just a degree, and I feel her go tense.

But I don’t let go.

“Your birthday is in a few weeks, isn’t it? November first?”

There’s a beat, then a second, and then her expression softens and a blush turns the swell of her cheeks a dusty pink. “You remembered?”

“I definitely remember the way your mother yelled at me for about a week after.”

She laughs, which catches me off guard. “I turned thirteen and you gave me some of your whiskey. You told her that you thought it would be funny.”

“Well, it was.” I grin, and she returns the smile with one of her own. “What’s your number?”

At my size, Zoné makes a gagging sound and I nudge him again.

Ayn gives him an eye roll, but her face is serious when it turns back to me. “And what guarantee do I have that you’ll actually text me?”

It’s a fair question, considering the fact that I left without telling her.

I pull my phone free and hand it to her. “Put your number in.”

She hesitates before reaching for the phone. “It’s the same as it was before,” she says as she keys it in.

“I got rid of my phone. I never keep them long.” As long as I’m in one place. I lived with her family for a year, which seemed long at the time. But here I am, two years in Eminence, and with a steady job. I feel like a completely different person.

I take it back and send her a message. Do you want to get coffee next weekend?

Ayn jolts in surprise as her phone rings, but she doesn’t reach for it. “Alright, you’ve proved your point. I have to get to class.” She takes a step, hesitates, then pivots to face me. For several, silent seconds, she studies my face with an unreadable expression.

Then she turns and gives Zoné a cheerful grin and walks on.

He gives a frustrated sigh. “She keeps acting like she knows me.”

“Or maybe you just forgot her.”

Zoné glares up at me, but then it’s his turn for his expression to crumble and I’m not too sure what I missed. “Small world,” he murmurs, echoing what I said not too long ago.

I reach out to him, but he shifts subtly enough to avoid my reach. “Earlier, before Ayn. What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He shakes his head and starts walking. “It wasn’t that important. Besides, you’re right: I need to concentrate on Glen.” His tone offers no room for further conversation.

I give him a few steps before following after. I’m not used to this. Being responsible is new. I just hope that I don’t mess it up for those looking up to me.

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