Over the next week, Bartholomew makes stops between the mail office and Wicker’s house, as well as spending time with his family. His father’s condition, as they expected, hasn’t gotten any better in this time, but he is still able to hang out for meals as he used to. Wicker is there for Bartholomew to lean on during particularly bad times, as well as Horowitz, who helps his family with buying and making food.
The brothers often find themselves at the dining room table, sitting in a mutual silence after the work they’ve done together. On this particular day, Bartholomew excuses himself to visit Wicker again. His friend is happy to see him and decides they could take a refreshing walk around the town of Aedelbark that day.
Wicker and Bartholomew pass many people walking, both alone or is pairs or groups. Shops have pretty, homemade “OPEN” signs hung in their windows or on their doors. Every so often, a large cart led by a horse or other large animal will roll down paths, travelling to further destinations.
Bartholomew quietly watches the ground as he walks. Wicker sympathetically puts a hand on his shoulder, “Still stressed, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s been kind of hard to think about anything normal.”
“I’d say wanting your dad to be healthy is normal! Listen, sometimes when I’m upset, I like to think of the first thing I want to do and just do it. No matter how crazy it seems. What do you want to do right now?” Wicker stares at Bartholomew with an intense smile, awaiting his response.
“Uh,” Bartholomew hesitates, not usually being put on the spot like this, “I’ve kind of wanted to get my ear pierced since I was a kid.”
Wicker claps his hands together, “I’ll pay if you wanna do that, maybe we can get matching ones!”
“You don’t have to do that,” Bartholomew smiles.
“If it’ll make you happy, I want to!”
Wicker eagerly leads him to a shorter building about 15 minutes away, set up for piercings and tattoos. A kind drakian fellow greets them; some of their naturally dark green scales are dyed brighter colors and their face has shiny, clean piercings. The drake helps Wicker and Bartholomew get planned and situated. They’re each given a gold-colored ring, neatly pierced into their left ear.
The drake presents a handheld mirror to Bartholomew, who takes it and grins. His eyes fixate on his new earring, watching it shine, then looks over at Wicker’s.
Bartholomew hands the mirror back to the drakian, then hops over to hug his friend.
“Thank you so much, Wicker!”
Wicker puts a hand on Bartholomew’s furry head, “No problem. I love you, Mewmew.”
Bartholomew’s eyes start to water and he holds Wicker tighter. His tail waves back and forth, gently signalling his elation.
“Actually,” Wicker adds, pulling away, “I’ve got one more surprise for you.”
Bartholomew follows Wicker out the door and the two stroll down the path, coming across another new building. Beautiful potted plants and colorful glass potion jars are displayed in the window. A bell rings as they enter through the door, alerting a brown-winged radiant that the two are entering her store. The three meet at the girl’s counter.
“New friend, Wicker?” she asks.
“You know it,” he replies, leaning against a shelf near the register.
“Who’d you find?” She glances at Bartholomew, tilting her head to the side.
“My name is Bartholomew! I’m from the Vacus District!”
He extends a hand out for the radiant to shake and she obliges, “I’m Kipper.”
Wicker silently walks away to look at the shelves of potions. Bartholomew glances at the products around them, but Kipper catches his attention again.
“So what are you doing out in Aedelbark?”
“Wicker’s been showing me around! We’ve been hanging out since we met when the Toy Store was around.”
Kipper sets her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her hands, “That’s nice, hope you’ve been having fun.”
“I have!”
Bartholomew jumps when Wicker comes back to stand beside him and sets a round bottle on the counter. Kipper fluffs up her wings and straightens her back.
“Ten gold, dude.” She states plainly.
“I know,” Wicker sets a handful of gold coins on the counter.
She simply nods in return, then turns her gaze to Bartholomew, “Have a nice day.”
“You too.” He turns around with a flick of his tail and leads Bartholomew outside.
Wicker picks up the orange potion and walks out with Bartholomew close behind. He stops outside and holds the bottle to his friend, smiling for the first time since they initially entered the shop, “This is for you!”
“Really?” Bartholomew gently takes it, “What’s it for?”
“It’s a potion of health! I know there’s not a lot you can do for your dad right now, but it should at least make his cough feel better.”
Bartholomew opens his mouth, but can’t find any words for his feelings. He bounces in place, then leans into Wicker for a hug. Wicker wraps his arms around him, sharing an embrace.
“Thank you so, so much,” he whispers, “I love you.”
Wicker kisses Bartholomew on the head, filling his stomach with butterflies, “You have to get home with that, huh? I’ll see you another time.”
Bartholomew nods happily, thanks Wicker again, and they part to go to their own homes.
Bartholomew stands at his kitchen counter, reading the tag tied to the neck of his potion’s bottle. It tells him the proper serving is one spoonful daily, either directly consumed or mixed into a drink or dish. Bartholomew lights the woodstove and grabs the kettle, filling it with water and hanging it over the fire. While the water comes to a boil, he grabs a porcelain container and removes the lid, carefully setting the lid down. He takes a small spoon and scoops up the tea leaves inside, and dumps it into a small teacup. He pops the cork out of the potion bottle, and using the same spoon, measures out the elixir, and pours it on top of the tea leaves.
A hiss starts to sound from the kettle, which quickly becomes a piercing squeal. Bartholomew removes the kettle from the stove and fills the tea cup. He picks it up, sets it on a plate, and carefully carries it up the stairs- balancing it perfectly to make sure it doesn’t topple off the saucer.
At the top of the stairs, the first door on the right is open, revealing his parents bedroom. Manx is laying in bed while Apri sits in a chair beside him.
Manx sits up and smiles at his son, “Hey, bud! Whatcha doing here?”
“Just bringing you tea,” Bartholomew replies, handing it over, “My friend bought us medicine that should help with your cough.”
“Oh, would you please thank him for us?” Apri instructed.
“Only if you get some rest,” Manx chimes in.
Apri sighs, shifting in her seat, “I wanted to stay to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll stay with him tonight,” Bartholomew puts a hand on his mother’s shoulder, “Go sleep in me and Horowitz’s room tonight.”
She hesitates for a moment, then reluctantly agrees. Apri stands up from her chair and kisses Manx on the forehead. Bartholomew takes her place in the chair and she ruffles his hair before saying goodnight and going downstairs.
Manx takes a sip of tea, then looks at his cup, “Your friend’s really kind. I’d keep him close if I were you.”
“Of course.”
“And Percey- Keep in touch with the ol’ mailman, will you? They basically raised me when I was a kid.”
Bartholomew nods, fiddling with his paws while his dad continued drinking his tea. He mumbles, “I don’t really like that you talk like you’re dying.”
“I understand,” Manx assures, “but accepting that it will happen can make it less scary.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you spend every day not wanting to die, you’re basically wasting all the time you have until you do. But, if you learn to live with it, you can do whatever you want without having to stop and worry.”
“You’ve had a lot of time to think about this since you got sick,” Bartholomew quietly laughs.
“I thought about it long before now, bud. Even if you’re not in Expiry’s view, it can make your life feel a lot more fulfilling.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Manx takes another sip, “That doesn’t mean it has to be soon, though. We’ve still got time.”
“Yeah, I know. I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, bud.”
The next day, after delivering letters and getting lunch, Bartholomew finds himself smoking at Wicker’s house. Both of them are seated on the couch, Bartholomew lazily leaning on Wicker as they take turns with the blunt.
“Can’t wait for this to be easier,” Bartholomew sputters, warm grey smoke swirling out of his mouth.
Wicker chuckles, “Healthy lungs are more in season anyway.”
Bartholomew chokes on a mixture of smoke and laughs, kicking his feet in amusement, “I guess they are!”
He watches the same smoke rise out of Wicker’s mouth, focusing intently on the way it flows through the air. As it dissipates, he sighs and darts his eyes around the room, trying to find something new to focus on.
“Mewmew?”
Bartholomew snaps out of his desperate search and looks Wicker in his pretty, yellow-green eyes. He waves his tail and patiently waits to hear what his friend has to say.
“You’re really out of it, aren’t you?”
He smiles bashfully and nods.
“That’s alright,” Wicker affirms, “I was talking about our party in a few days. Maybe you can try something less cough-y?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Something that makes you cough less?”
“Not coffee.”
“Fair enough.”
Bartholomew looks, enjoying comfortable silence. He stares at a blurry lantern sitting near the couch; the room is too dark for him to make out whether it’s lit or not. He then looks to the closed curtains, wondering if it would be easier to tell if they let some sunlight in. He decides that he can see well enough in the dark room to care and shakes his head, which fills his head with what feels like static and fog.
“Hey Mewmew,” Wicker interrupts his thoughts again.
“What’s up?"
“You remember that we both said ‘I love you’ yesterday?”
Bartholomew feels his face heat up, “Do I have a crush on you? I mean… you like... me?”
“Do you?”
“I like me, but not in that way. You’re weird.” Bartholomew frowns.
“No, silly,” Wicker laughs, “Do you like me?”
“I do!” His eyes light up.
“Woah, we’re not getting married, slow down.”
Bartholomew looks at his hands awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He holds them together, feeling as if they should be able to go through each other.
Wicker pats his shoulder, “That was meant to be a joke, I like you too. I think dating comes before marrying, though.”
“We can be dating?” His words slur.
“Sure!”
Bartholomew purrs happily and rests closer to Wicker, who keeps an arm around him. They continue to sit and talk playfully.
After some time passes, Wicker glances at the clock on the wall and nudges Bartholomew, “It’s 12th moon, do you need to get home for dinner?”
“Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Bartholomew replies, trying to keep his balance as he stands up. His legs felt as if they were zigzags.
“You gonna be able to make it home alright?”
“Yeah! I’ll be alright.”
“Alright, be safe. Love you!”
Bartholomew smiles, “I love you.”
He walks through the paths of Aedelbark with a spring in his step, staying focused on where he puts his feet and occasionally looking at the buildings around him. He travels up the hill that separates Aedelbark from Vacus Trium and makes his way back home, where he sees Horowitz standing at the kitchen sink across the room.
“What’s up?” Bartholomew greets, his head spinning.
“Just finished making dinner,” Horowitz reported, turning off the sink, “I’m taking Mom and Dad’s food upstairs, we can hang out at the table, though.”
“Sounds good!”
“Alrighty, grab a plate then!”
Horowitz takes a filled plate in each hand and carefully makes his way to their parents’ room while Bartholomew starts to set up his own. He scoops rice onto his plate, then a mix of vegetables. He carries his food to the table and sets it down, staying up to prepare himself a glass of water. By the time he’s situated at the table, Horowitz makes his way back down the stairs.
“My friend invited me to a party in a few days,” Bartholomew starts, “You think that’s alright?”
Horowitz nods, getting his own dinner ready, “Sure! Mom and I can handle one night without you dude.”
“I figured, just wanted to be sure.”
The brothers sit at the table together. They start eating their food, not minding the silence between them. The occasional cough is heard from upstairs.
“Saciron starts tomorrow,” Horowitz states, “You ready to see all of Tepia’s crazy decorations tomorrow?”
Bartholomew laughs, “For sure, I don’t even know how she manages to put it all up so fast overnight.”
“Saciri’s followers find a way! Though I’m not sure why she hasn’t been chased out of town.”
When they finish their food, Bartholomew takes each of their plates to the sink. Horowitz thanks him as he stands and stretches out his arms.
They finish cleaning up the kitchen together, and head to their room for the night. Bartholomew takes his glass of water with him, setting it next to his bed and laying down. He picks up the book he’s been working on, struggling to remember what page he left off at. Once he finds his place, the words appear too hard to read despite not changing at all. Bartholomew sighs and closes it, takes a drink of water, then decides to go to sleep early.
“Night, Horowitz.”
“Goodnight.”
Bartholomew closes his eyes, finding it extremely easy to settle into his blanket. Almost no time passes before he’s asleep.
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