Chapter Text
Titch didn’t believe in god. He was ashamed to admit it. He tried so hard to, but how could he? He wanted to be a good Christian boy he really did. He loved church. He loved the choirs and the open vast halls. He loved the people who always smiled at him and treated him as one of their own. He loved the pastors and their kind words.
Yet, whenever he prayed, he did not pray to god.
There was no divine force, no cosmic being greater than any man on earth, no god in sight. Titch didn’t believe.
If Titch believed then he’d be a fool. And he was no fool. If God was benevolent, then he was not omnipotent. If God was omnipotent, he was not benevolent. Titch didn’t know which reality was right and he was not having it.
Titch prayed to the stars above instead. They were tangible and present. He had always liked them, and Lady Margaery said she got her powers from them. It was enough for him to turn his prayers to them.
Titch wished he believed when he held his father’s hand as he took his last breath. He wish he believed something could save him. He wish he believed that there was somewhere for him to go.
But the cold hard truth was that his father was gone.
If Titch believed, then his father would be in heaven, happy with his mother and the rest of the family. If Titch believed, then he’d know that there would be something good that came out of this death. If Titch believed, he might have been able to stop this mess.
Titch buried himself into his father’s cold cold hands as the doctors swarmed around him, rushing to try to save him. One of the nurses gently pulled him aside into the waiting room and all he could do was hold his head as he waited for the inevitable.
Titch prayed to the stars his father was at peace now.
The next few days passed as a blur. He barely remembered the planning, or the funeral itself. He remembered the church bells ringing as his father’s casket was lowered into the ground. The priest glowed in white as he preached about the divine afterlife. He remembered the bitter taste on his tongue as the sun blazed on and the sweaty, sticky nature of the funeral. Titch remembered digging his nails into his fists so hard he drew blood.
If Titch believed, then this was the moment he stopped believing.
-
Amanda wanted to scream when she heard the news. She wanted to beg, cry and throw a tantrum. Instead, all she could muster was a small smile and placing a hand on her lap.
“I’m so happy for you!”
It was supposed to be her. She was supposed to have confessed to her, to be her partner. Not Mark. She didn’t know why she was so angry this time around. Clarissa had had partners before. It was alright. That was a lie, Amanda knew it. She was angry, so angry and sad and grieving.
But how could she be angry when Clarissa looked so happy?
Growing up, Amanda had always believed in soulmates. Two people destined for each other. She remembers the nights she and Tim would spend by their father’s feet, listening to stories of two strangers falling in each other's arms and knowing they were intertwined. It was beautiful, how the universe knew that two people were meant to be.
Amanda knew she met her soulmate when she met Clarissa. It was just a regular day, when suddenly a much shorter blonde girl barrelled into her, apologising profusely. Something just clicked into place when she met her eyes. They were going to be best friends and more.
But that was a child’s fantasy. She could be mature now. She would. This was her best friend, and she was so happy. Amanda had never seen her this happy. She was practically glowing when she announced it to her, all giggly and smiling. She reminded her of when they were seventeen, with not a care in the world. She couldn’t take that joy away from her, she couldn’t.
So Amanda did what she always did, and supported her best friend.
It wasn’t until later that night, as she sat in front of the open fire that she let herself cry. It was all so stupid. She should be happy. Clarissa had pined for Mark for ages, they were going to be amazing together. Amanda couldn’t help herself as she sobbed, her shoulders heaving under the emotional weight as she fed the flames with the millions of drafts of a confession for Clarissa. The letters burnt beautifully, melting away into embers. The embers dissipated into the air like how the words disappeared in her throat every time she saw Clarissa. Forever forgotten and never to be seen again. She tucked her head into her knees as the tears streamed down her face. At that moment, Amanda realised a fundamental truth.
She wasn’t her soulmate.
It made her cry even harder.
-
“An assistant?” Titch snorted, “James why would I ever need one, you know-“
“Titch, I’m just worried about you,” James sighed, “You work too hard, too much, it’s not healthy.”
Titch snorted. What did James know about working hard? He wasn’t the one who had to run the farm ever since their father got ill. He knew nothing about the labour that went into making sure that everything was in order. He didn’t know anything about the hours their father spent in the field until his hands bled from sowing and ploughing all day. He wasn’t the one who had to call their father away from his desk in the dead of night to make sure that he slept. He wasn’t the one who watched their father scribble away at his desk, hours on end to make sure that everything ran smoothly until his hands started shaking. Until the tremors wouldn’t go away. This was nothing compared to what their father had done. Absolutely nothing.
“It’s a waste of money,” Titch bit the inside of his cheek. Fucking hell did it hurt, but whatever. As long as James could stop worrying, it would be fine. Titch picked at his dinner plate.
“You wouldn’t be the one paying,” James sighed, “I’ve found someone, his name’s Philip and he knows his way around aubergines-”
“And when did I agree to this?” Titch snapped at him. He slammed his hands against the dinner table.
“Titch, please. He’s a good guy. Just,” James sighed. Burrowed eyebrows did not suit his big brother at all. Titch slowly sat back down and crossed his arms. “Just test him out for a day.”
It was Titch’s turn to sigh now.
“I’m giving him a day, and that’s it,” he pinched the space between his eyebrows. The things he did for love. At least James was smiling now.
-
“So you’re Amanda?”
Amanda sipped on her cocktail as she eyed this man up and down. Jacked, bald and a non-existent hair shorter than her? Amanda shook Mark’s outreached hand tentatively. He wasn’t Clarissa’s type. She usually went for much taller men or women, who actually had hair on their heads. Amanda shook her head and scolded herself internally. She would play nice. She plastered on a polite smile and looked up at Mark.
“Lovely to meet you, Mark I assume?”
Mark grinned and clapped her on the back. Amanda cringed internally. This was going to be a long evening.
“Always wanted to meet Suzanne’s best friend,” Mark took the seat next to her, “She talks a lot about you.”
She took another sip of her drink. The strawberry daiquiri tasted far more bitter than she remembered. She eyed the man warily before setting down her drink.
“I hope it’s only been good things.”
Mark clapped her on the back again and she nearly spat out her drink. He belted out a laugh.
“Oh please, she can’t ever stop talking about how amazing you are!” He placed a hand on his forehead, “Really got me curious you know?”
“Oh yeah?” Amanda tried to stuff down the butterflies emerging in her stomach. God, she needed to keep it together. She swirled her straw around her drink, “Well, I suppose I’ve been awful curious as well, about the man who captured Clarissa’s heart.”
They talked the night away. It was nice, having some company. Mark was a really great guy. He was funny, able to hold a conversation and was genuinely interested in Amanda as a person. He seemed like he genuinely cared for Clarissa as well, and although it was too early to say it, seemed like he could really grow to love her. He was a wonderful match for her best friend. She really couldn’t be happier.
So why was Amanda left with a bitter aftertaste when she finally left?
-
Titch tried to ignore that feeling.
Phillip was a good guy. He really was. He was a hard worker and a pleasant guy overall. Just Titch’s type as well, though he’d never say that aloud. Chestnut brown hair, rosy cheeks and a smile as bright as the sun. Titch agreed to hire him after the first day and things had been smooth sailing since. They developed a routine. Titch would wake up early and do the paperwork needed to be done. Philip would finish anything else needed as Titch set out for the farm. He’d join Titch around noon and the two would hunker down in the farm. Then, they’d eat dinner together and Philip would be off home. It was a simple, comfortable routine.
Titch still couldn’t shake off that feeling around Philip though. He couldn’t quite put a pin on it, but something was off. It was like he met him somewhere before.
One day, when the sun burnt its brightest, that comfortable routine was disrupted. Titch wiped the sweat off his brow as he propped his shovel against the fence. It had been a hard day of tending to the crops on the farm, but everything was coming along nicely, especially the aubergines, despite it not being the season. Titch wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth though. He had to force the door to the house open. Damn heat, fucking up the wood, he’ll have to get the door refitted soon. After a little force, the door swung open.
“‘Xcuse me, is this where Philip Wilson works?”
Titch flinched. There was a stranger on his property. A stranger. He reached for a weapon. Anything. Anything to get them out. He swivelled around to meet them in the eye to square them up.
The first thing Titch noticed was his height. The man loomed over him and while Titch was not short by any standard, he felt absolutely tiny. While the tallness might have been threatening on any other person, it really didn’t work on him. Just made him seem really…gangly. Titch snorted. How could anyone be threatened by this elk of a man? His fists unclenched unconsciously as he crossed his arms.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, ugh,” Gangles looked down at his feet nervously. His ears turned pink from embarrassment, “Does ugh, does Phillip Wilson work here?”
“Why do you want to know?” Titch drawled. He couldn’t be fooled by this man, his employee’s life may be at stake here.
“I ugh, ugh,” Gangles turned beet red. What a weak guy. The sun wasn’t that hot. Titch tapped his foot impatiently. He would really enjoy his lunch break right now.
“Derek!”
His assistant excitedly shoved past him, embracing Gangles in a one-sided hug. Derek did not suit Gangles, but Titch kept his trap shut. Derek weakly smiled at Philip, gently hugging him back. Philip turned to grin at him and Titch felt a pang in his heart.
“What are you doing out here Derek? Thought you were busy with your work!”
He softly shook his head, “I came to deliver your lunch, you forgot it at home.”
Philip clapped him on the back and Gangles nearly toppled over. Poor guy.
“Man, I love you so much,“ Philip grinned. A pit formed in Titch’s stomach. Suddenly his head snapped back to Titch and he slapped a hand across his forehead. “I forgot to introduce you to one another! Derek, this is Titch, my boss. Titch, this is Derek, my roommate.”
“A pleasure,” Titch stuck out his hand. Derek scratched the back of his neck and shook it. His hands were surprisingly calloused but unsurprisingly massive. Titch turned his attention back to Philip.
“Lunch?”
Philip excitedly nodded. He gave Derek a quick hug before excusing himself. Titch slung an arm over him as they entered the farmhouse. He glanced over at Derek and thought to himself…
What should he have for lunch?