by A. M. Rose
Drew glanced into the dining room and found it completely empty, lights turned off. They walked forward into the living room and there, they found his parents, sitting next to each other on a small loveseat speaking in hushed tones. His father had his arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders, and she held a tissue in hand as if prepared to cry. Drew hoped there would be no tears. Despite everything, he hated to see her hurt.
He cleared his throat, and they snapped their heads up, his mother jumping from her seat and attempting a smile that really did nothing to ease the tension between them.
“Drew!” she exclaimed, almost vibrating, and he guessed she was a step away from rushing to him and hugging him. She held off, and he appreciated it more than she knew.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly. It felt like the night he had first arrived all over again. They’d barely spoken since, and now that a conversation was looming over their heads, the tension was high, and he felt on edge, just like he had the first night. The difference now, though, was Mason by his side. Mason who nudged him forward so he could walk into the room.
“Hi, Mrs. Daley.” Mason flashed her a smile that looked friendly on the surface, but Drew saw the chill behind his baby blue eyes.
“Mason, darling, how lovely to see you,” she said, beaming at him, and Mason nodded back with an ounce of her faux-cheer.
“You too,” he said, walking towards a large sectional and planting himself in the middle of it. No matter where Drew chose to sit, he’d have to be close to him and he had a strong feeling Mason did it on purpose. He settled next to him, closer than was strictly necessary.
“We’re glad you asked us to talk, Drew,” his dad said when the silence between them became deafening.
Drew had run this conversation in his head a million times since he’d decided to do it and every time, he was the one in control of everything. He was calm and collected and he knew exactly what to say. The lump in his throat wasn’t there like it was now. His palms weren’t sweaty, and he didn’t feel like he’d burst out of his own skin.
He drummed his fingers on his knees, struggling to find the words when Mason’s tiny palm covered his and settled the storm. He glanced to him, finding him smiling, his eyes offering silent strength that washed over him in a gentle wave.
“I need your help,” he said finally, turning back to them to watch his parents sit straighter, eager to do… whatever he asked them probably.
“Name it,” his father confirmed his suspicions.
“I’m gonna need the contact of the PI you hired to find me,” he said, and they both stared at him in silent wonder for a few moments.
“Why?” his mother recovered first.
“I need to talk to him.”
“You’re not gonna hurt him, are you?” his mother squawked at the same time his father said, “He was just doing his job!”
“What do you think I’m gonna do?” he asked sarcastically, temper pricked. “Despite everything, still not magic so...”
His mother gasped and clutched her palm to her chest, eyes filling with tears right away. Drew squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as if that would dislodge the release valve on the anger. He didn’t come there to argue with them.
“Drew…” Mason called, voice soft, and Drew knew it was a reminder to keep his calm and not let them get to him.
“I need to find someone, and he appears to be good if he found me,” he said tightly, squeezing Mason’s fingers where they still rested together on his knee.
“Okay…” his father said after a single beat, standing up and walking towards the little address book they still kept by their phone. Any other situation and he’d have laughed at their resistance to modernizing their lives. Right now, nothing seemed funny.
“Here.” His father extended him the small business card and he took it, looking down at the elegant dark gray square. Dominic Parish, Private Investigator was written in neat block letters, with contact information written bellow. “He doesn’t do face-to-face meetings. Text or email only,” he explained gruffly.
“No fear of me hurting him then, is there?” he said through his teeth, refusing to look at him until he settled back in his seat.
“Who are you looking for?” his mother asked quietly into the ensuing silence, and… he knew that question was coming. He knew they would eventually get to the part where he’d have to at least mention Troy and what happened.
It didn’t mean he was ready for it.
He looked to Mason who gave him a subtle nod.
“I’m looking for Reggie and Pete,” he said, and he knew they’d recognize the names if they read the journal.
“Troy’s—”
“Yup. His best buddies,” he cut his mother off.
“Why?” she asked.
“They still have the gr—” A sharp pain stabbed him on the inside of his skull, and he hissed. Mason squeezed his hand and leaned into him worriedly.
“Stop trying to push yourself,” he warned, before turning back to his parents. “They have the grimoire.”
“Or… we think they do,” Drew said, and the shock his parents showed at his words was almost palpable.
“Who… who’s we?” his father asked nervously, trying to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working. His voice was shaking, and he was so much quieter than usual.
“Mason took me to see some people who could help. It’s why I’ve stuck around as long as I have.”
“Lift the spell?” his mother asked, eyes shining with emotion.
He nodded shallowly, not wanting to irritate said spell.
“That… that’s great, son!” his father exclaimed, clutching his mother’s hand.
“I’m not getting my hopes up. Malachi tried, and it didn’t work,” he said, watching as their faces fell under the weight of their guilt.
Mason patted his knee. “It’s because he didn’t have the grimoire. Once he has it, I’m sure he’ll be able to get it done,” Mason said with a conviction Drew just didn’t have.
“So they kept the… they kept it,” his mother breathed out, fingers flying to her lips.
“That’s our assumption,” Drew said coldly, watching as she shook her head, swiping at her eyes with her tissue.
“We never should have bought it,” she whispered.
Mason snorted next to him. “Agreed. You never should have,” he said in a clipped voice.
“Drew… we’re so sorry,” his mother said, and Drew snapped his eyes back to her. It was the millionth time she’d apologized, and as sincere as each of her attempts sounded, he just couldn’t bring himself to forgive.
“Did you really have that big of an issue with me not having magic that you’d resort to using something like that to fix me?” he finally asked what had been on his mind for a decade.
“No! Drew, we never thought you needed fixing,” his mother exclaimed, and he shook his head as he recoiled from her appeals physically, sinking further into Mason’s side.
“Hard to believe. Not really an item on a regular baby shower list.” He was getting angry. He was getting fired up again, and not even Mason’s hand on his thigh was helping anymore.
“We were confused. We were scared your life would be difficult here—”
“And you were right! My life here was hell. But not because of lack of magic,” he said, hating the excuses. They sounded so hollow and fake.
“Drew…”
“It was hell because of it! Because you decided I was lacking. Because you bought that… thing, you put it in his reach, and you managed not to notice anything for YEARS…” he snapped, powering through the resulting pain for getting so close to the truth. He stood up to tower over them, to try and match the height of the hurt and anger which had building for so long and cast them in its shadow.
“We didn’t know…” his father tried, but he fixed him with a look so filled with rage he just wilted back into his chair.
“You didn’t want to know. Let’s be honest, Troy was the golden
child. Magic coming out of his ears, smart… he was going places. He was going to do great things. You worshiped the ground he walked on, and he could do no wrong in your book…”
His father was red in the face. Drew had no idea if it was embarrassment or anger and didn’t care. “We had no reason—”
“No reason to believe me?” he interrupted again, laughing callously. “So your child withdrawing from everyone didn’t raise suspicion with you? Troy lugging his baby brother around constantly didn’t seem weird to you? The fact that I’d try to… I tried… I tried so hard before doubling over in pain, and it didn’t even seem weird to you!” He was to the point of screaming now. Years of pent-up anger and resentment spewing out. Questions that had plagued him were spilling from his lips, and despite his initial apprehension about coming here, he was now ready to get it all out in the open.
“W-we thought…” his father stuttered unnaturally; face now drained of color.
“You thought what? That he loved me so much he wanted me around all the time?” he sneered.
“We didn’t think he was doing something so horrible to you!” his mother finally yelled at him, coming to her own feet.
He snorted another ugly laugh, directing his gaze skywards before settling it back on her. She flinched under it.
“You didn’t want to know. He died because of his own ambition, and yet, you still refused to listen to me. I came to you, I tried… I tried to make you see. But even his stuff was more important to you than me. You wouldn’t let me into his room to show you his journal. The only way I had to let you know… and you turned me away.”
She was crying openly now. “Drew…”
“You’re the reason I left.”
Finally, the words were out, and he felt… deflated.
“You’re the reason I walked away from my home, from the people I knew and the people who saw enough in me to not want to change me.” He looked towards a wide-eyed Mason when he said that, hopeful he’d realize he was talking about him. He was the one person he regretted leaving.
“We’re so sorry,” his father said, but he sounded defeated. Like he knew there was no reason to fight against the accusations Drew laid at their feet. As if he finally realized Drew would let them in if and when he felt like it, and no amount of apologizing or trying would change that.
“I know,” he said, voice losing heat as he looked at both his parents with a bone deep exhaustion. “I honestly believe you’re sorry. But… I don’t know that I’m in a place where I can forgive you just yet.”
“Son,” his mother garbled through tears.
“Things he… what happened to me… left consequences…” he said, trying his best to navigate through the words he wasn’t allowed to say.
They both stared at him. “What?”
“I have blackouts. Sometimes more often and sometimes weeks go by before one strikes. And finding out if that can be fixed is my priority now. I want… I want to be normal again. There… there might be a way for us... somewhere down the line, but... I can't think about it right now. I need to do this first,” he said, offering a hand to Mason who took it immediately. He started them walking towards the door.
“Drew,” his mother called, distressed at him leaving as she trailed them.
“I need you to give me time,” he told her.
She stopped in her tracks, and his dad stood up to curl an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Anything you need,” he said roughly. She nodded, hopeful now that they knew there was a sliver of space for them to find their way back to him.
“I need to put myself first, and I need to not feel guilty about it,” he said and walked out, not waiting for his parents to say anything more.
And then they were standing on the porch again, only this time Mason’s fingers were laced with his. Mason guided them into Drew’s pocket to keep warm and nudged his shoulder.
“Hey…” he whispered, and Drew turned towards him. He was exhausted. “I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, voice shaking and unsure.
“So proud.” He gave his fingers a final squeeze. “Now come on. Let’s do something fun today.”
“I thought you said we were doing something fun?” Drew asked when they reached their treehouse.
“Are you saying being with me in here isn’t fun? How very dare you!” Mason gasped, advancing on him.
“Kidding, being here with you is the best…” Drew retreated playfully.
“You bet your ass it is. But we’re not staying… I just need to get something.” He climbed up the rickety steps and crawled towards one of the plastic boxes he used to store the things he wanted to keep, but not have to see every day.
“What are you getting?” he heard Drew shout from the ground, and he rolled his eyes.
“Would you just wait for five seconds, and then you’ll find out,” he hollered back, digging through the box until his fingers wrapped around what he was looking for. “Aha!!”
“Found it?”
“Yup. Coming down,” he called before he wiggled his way back down the tree trunk carefully. He touched the ground and turned to look at Drew, brandishing the item in his hand triumphantly.
“Look!!” he exclaimed, thrusting the item into Drew’s hands and waiting for his reaction.
“My old camera?” Drew asked, looking into Mason’s eyes, surprise written all over his face. “You kept it?”
“Yeah.” Of course I did. “It had protective magic on it, so I hope it still works. And here…” He extended his hand to give the other part of his gift he’d bought that morning on impulse.
“Film?” Drew asked, taking the little box and smiling as he turned it over in his fingers.
“Yup, apparently old Clive stills sells them down at the convenience store. You get thirty-six amazing shots of whatever you want. So go crazy,” Mason said, trying to play it off as Drew chuckled.
“Oh yeah… I can just snap away with my amazing thirty-six shots,” Drew joked, and Mason scowled at him, turning to walk away from the treehouse and towards the town.
“So ungrateful,” he griped as Drew caught up with him, clicking the film into place and fixing the strap of the camera around his neck.
“When did you buy this?” Drew asked curiously.
Mason shrugged, feeling heat begin to spread to his face. He quickened his steps, but Drew matched them easily with his longer legs.
“Did you… plan this for me? For today?” Drew carried on; eyes fixated on the side of his face and the softest underbelly of a tone lacing every word.
“Taking pictures used to distract you,” Mason said, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “I thought you might need distracting. That’s all.”
Drew smiled down at the camera, beginning to mess with it some more, and Mason’s heart flipped. It was both the best and worst thing. His eyes were lit with excitement, and he had a spring in his step that wasn’t there before as he reacquainted himself with what was once his most prized possession. Mason counted that as a win as he directed them towards the town center.
They talked about insignificant things as they toured around Daydream as if Drew had never been there. Seeing all the casual magic around them - the town mail hopping merrily to mailboxes, not a mailman in sight, trash bags flinging themselves into the truck as the driver ate his breakfast bagel at the wheel - made Mason wonder how it made Drew feel. He was used to it. It was his life and as much a part of him as his own magic was. People said places had souls. But Mason thought it was true for Daydream more so than most places. But Drew had spent so long away from it all he had to wonder if the sight of grocery bags following their shoppers dutifully made things weird for him. Mason looked at him and found him absorbed into taking photos enough to ignore the magic, so Mason did his best to regale him with bullshit, made-up facts about the town just to hear him laugh. Drew's laugh was the most amazing sound, and after the morning he had had, he deserved to be happy.
“And if you look to
your right, you can see the south edge of the Daydream Central Park. Legend says it used to be enchanted, and people who entered would be trapped inside their dreams forever!” He flailed his arms around to emphasize the gravity of the situation, and Drew laughed that beautiful laugh he had missed so much.
“How tragic,” Drew said, fixing his camera and pointing it towards the park. Mason turned to look in that direction too, hoping he’d see what Drew saw through his lens. But he was never the artist. It was just trees and benches to him. Drew clicked the camera, and then they were off again, wandering around, reliving their childhood and basking in the presence of the other.
Mason tried his best to keep some level of distance between them, but their arms brushed as they walked and, every once in a while, Drew would throw his arm around his shoulders casually, unthinkingly. Just like he used to.
Every time they stopped at a sight Mason deemed important enough to include into their tour, he’d hear the subtle click of the camera, and it felt like a countdown of their day. Every click brought them closer to the moment the relaxed feeling between them would end, and it would be time to go back to the confusing reality they have been living in since Drew came back.
The final stretch of their tour brought them back to their treehouse, the logical place to end the day dedicated to remembering good moments and creating new ones. They climbed up the steps and settled in, moves still practiced and coordinated as they settled limbs around each other.
Mason turned to look through the window and heard one more click, snapping his head back to see Drew dropping the camera down, rewinding the film before clicking the camera open and pulling it out to settle it back into the black box.
“Can you even develop these anywhere anymore?” he asked.
Mason shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t think that far in advance. I figured you’d know where to develop them when you got back home,” he said, averting his eyes, heart heavy at the thought of Drew going back to his life outside of Daydream.
“I don’t know… didn’t really do much photography in San Francisco,” Drew said, and Mason’s eyes widened. Apparently, they were talking about Drew’s life now.
