Work Text:
Lucy
I said I'd rather stay here, and I meant it. There's nothing for me behind the Veil. You're here, Simon.
I like your friends. I'm probably not supposed to, am I? A mother is supposed to think her eighteen-year-old son's friends are bad news. Yours aren't. Penelope reminds me so much of Mitali. She looks a mess, but somehow convinces me it's on purpose. She's always the expert, even when she doesn't know any more than you do.
Basilton is a harder read. I remember his mother. She was terrifying. And she wasn't. She would let us get away with so much. Not just Mitali and I, but all of us. She let us be children when we didn't have to be.
The longer I spend in your room, the more solid it feels. I can stay here, if I want to. I kiss you goodnight, even though I know you can't feel it. I can't feel it either. I want to be able to swear that, even if you can't feel it, it's doing something. I want to see you relax into sleep. You don't.
You relax into sleep when Basilton does. Even your breathing matches.
Oh, Simon, what have you done? You've done your very best, haven't you? You've saved the world. The question is what has Davy done? What has he done to you?
You pulled me to you. I think you pulled the whole world towards you with all that magic. I watched you give that little boy all you had.
Davy should have given that little boy all he had. I did. For a moment, I let myself be angry. You're crying over him. You shouldn't be. He doesn't deserve your tears, Simon.
Your friends don't cry.
I do.
I cry for Davy. I think you and I were the only people to ever love him. I cry for you. Your life was supposed to be different. I cry for myself. I was supposed to give you that life.
What have you done, Simon? You've let him take the world from you. You didn't have anything, and you gave it all away. Will you be alright? I don't know.
You leave Watford for the last time. I don't know where you go.
You come back for the ball. You look so handsome. So grown up. Mum would cry if she could see you in this suit. She'd fuss around you and I would try to look at you with solidarity. I would never be able to pull it off. I'm too proud of the young man you are, Simon.
I wish I could photograph you dancing. I wish I could teach you to dance. Basilton is trying, but it's not going well.
It was easier to be at Watford. The ground was more stable. It was almost always there. So were you. I could stay with you at Watford.
London is made out of gossamer and light. There's nothing to stand on. People fade in and out of my vision.
I don't know how I found you. When I do, I wonder how long you've lived in this flat. It's loud and busy.
You're not.
We watch television together. None of it is any good, but you're fine company. You don't expect me to carry on a conversation.
I talk anyway. I'm proud of you, even now. I'm proud of you for being here.
I touch the inside of your wings. I don't know what they feel like. I wish it made you shiver, or even glance to the side. It doesn't. I'm not sure you would shiver or glance even if you could feel my touch. You've barely moved this week.
You've taken to drinking. I'm sure you drank at Watford. We all figured out how to cast another round at some point. But you wouldn't have done this. It doesn't loosen you. It makes you sink further into the sofa.
Basilton sits next to me. He puts a hand onto your shoulder. You feel that, I'm sure. You don't respond.
You're back. Then you're gone again. It feels permanent, like this isn't your place anymore. The floors don't hold me as well since you left.
I think Penelope has replaced you rather quickly. She talks about you all the time with her new friend, but she doesn't try to get you back here.
Basil isn't so easily convinced. He says your name, says "people don't need space, they need people," and says he knows where you are.
I cling to him as best I can.
I sit with you after he leaves.
What have you done, Simon? Why?
I know why. I don't think you do. You don't know that it's because of me, because of Davy. We taught you that everything good will leave. He taught you that some of the good is a lie.
You can cry. I wish you would. That would be far less worrying than you eating in silence on the floor. You can change your mind. I wish you would. Go find him. Tell him to come back. To stay.
I can't get you to mum, to Jamie, to Mitali. I can't show you your family, Simon. But you found some. You found the two of them. You can't leave them. I can't watch you push them all away. Not when I can't pull you close to me.
I feel it. I feel it the moment you set foot inside. I find you immediately. Mum was right, I suppose. You can always find your way home.
Even in gossamer, it all looks the same. I don't think Mum has touched my room.
You sit in my place on the sofa. I laugh with Basil when you sink to the springs. I was the one who ruined it, always bouncing during tea.
You're here on business, I realize. You'll leave. Please don't leave, Simon. Stay here. Not always, but whenever you want. Whenever you can. Find a way to stand on steady ground. This is the steadiest ground: this house with you in it. I can wander away from you. I see the candles in Mum's bedroom. I cup my hands around the sputtering flame and it glows bright, just for a moment. It dies down before I pull away.
"Jamie!" Mum shouts. "Come and move your sword!"
I laugh. How many times has she shouted at the three of us. Sometimes, Dad would tell Jamie and I not to move it, even if Mum asked. He'd rile her up, just to make us laugh.
"I've got it," you say, and I almost laugh again. No you don't. Only Jamie's left. Except for you. You're left. I'd nearly forgotten why I'm here. I'm not celebrating Jamie coming home. I'm here to tell them about you. I'm here to tell you about them.
They already love you. How could they not? I loved you the second I felt you growing inside of me. They get to see you, Simon. How could they help it? They just need to know.
They both look past you for the smallest moment. Like they can see me. Like they understand.
No. They should be looking at you.
You're confused. That's okay. I can explain. Mum, Jamie, and your wonderful Baz can help me explain.
Mum pulls you up the stairs. I'm only a step behind you. I can feel the stairs under my feet. I only have a few moments left. I'm letting it all out now.
"You're a Salisbury!" Jamie said, before mum pulled you out of the room.
I know you haven't felt anything before. That's okay. I hug you as I go. So does Mum. I'm leaving you with her. With Jamie. With Baz. You'll be alright, Simon. You'll be okay.
I love you.
The flame sputters, dimmer than ever.
I love you, Simon. I never would have left you. But I can leave you with them.