Groundlings

A week had passed since Mobreigh had made his miracle shot in class. He hadn’t been able to replicate it since. Part of him knew he’d need to submerge himself in his memories again, to just let everything wash over him and flood his senses.
But that was dangerous. Very dangerous. How long would it be before he got too involved, too lost in it and killed someone that was still actually alive? Unthinkable. He had to figure out another way to do this. He was back at square one, with no skill to speak of.
Except something that could get out of hand really easily. And that was not a fun thought.
I’m not a murderer. Who’d have thought he’d have to tell himself that? Then again, he’d never thought Selsdon would ever die. But here he was.
Class was more stressful than ever. Having made the shot, Miss Maria knew he could do it, and had cracked down on him much harder than ever before. She was pushing him far too hard, did she not see it? Probably not.
He hadn’t told her how he’d done it. He didn’t think he’d be able to.
Mobreigh had a trip to prepare for, though, and he needed every edge he could get. Tika was all set. She’d always been good at these sorts of things, and she didn’t exactly look like someone you’d want to mess with. She was tall, probably around five foot ten or so, with broad shoulders and thick muscles she’d worked hard for.
And what was he? Short even for his age. Scrawny as hell. Got winded every time he climbed stairs. He was a complete wreck, and not only that, but he was completely useless.
Come on, Mobe. Snap out of it, you have homework. Math was his strong suit, at least. It was nothing but cold hard logic, there was no room or forgiveness for anything else. Once you knew the rules, everything made sense. What he would not give for life to be like that.
Or really, for anything else to be like that.
He hunkered down, scribbling answers here and there, his pen scratching away at the empty spaces. Mobreigh hated wide open empty space. It was more useless than he was. He hated leaving blank answers when there was so much room for improvement.
Someone knocked on the door. Tika was out at work, patrolling and maybe bagging bad guys, as she was every day. She wouldn’t be home for hours. And she wouldn’t have knocked at her own door. But Mobreigh had no friends. He had no one who would come out here to see him.
Must be some kind of official business, then. He tucked his hair behind his ear on the side he wore it long and stood up, the chair loudly scraping across the floor. He leaned back and his back cracked in a few places and rolled his shoulders.
Okay, Mobe. You can do this. You can answer a goddamn door.
How in the hell was he going to survive out there?
Mobreigh unlocked the door, then pulled it open, plastering his best attempt at a welcoming smile on his face. He probably looked like he was in terrible pain and desperately trying to hide it. After all, he kind of was.
Toby Hawthorne stood outside, looking at one of the little potted plants on their windowsill. He heard the door creak open and his head swung around, golden hair catching the sun like some kind of beautiful candle. He smiled awkwardly.
“Hi,” Mobreigh said. What in the hell was happening?
“Hi,” Toby said. “Are you busy?”
Mobreigh weighed his thoughts for a minute. Technically he was, he was doing mindless busywork for school, but it could wait for another time. But something about that smile Toby flashed him seemed off, and it was weird to be visited like this completely out of the blue. But then again, Mobreigh needed his company. His heart ached from his loneliness. “No,” he decided. “No, I’m not. What’s up?”
Toby blew a sigh of relief, and his shoulders relaxed visibly. Why would he be nervous about seeing Mobreigh? “I, uh. I wanted to check in on you. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” Mobreigh said, suddenly self-conscious. He and Tika hadn’t been cleaning as well as they should have. What kind of house did Toby live in? One as perfect as himself? Stop it, Mobreigh. Stop it, the guy’s here to help you. He stood awkwardly staring at Toby before it hit him that in order to let his guest in, he kind of had to get out of the way first. He did, shuffling backwards into the coat rack.
Oh lord, this was going to be horrible.
Toby came inside, looking around in silence for a minute, taking it all in. “I like this,” he said.
“What,” Mobreigh said.
“It’s nice. Feels cozy,” Toby explained. He shrugged. “I like it.”
Well, alright. “Thanks,” Mobreigh said. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Toby Hawthorne, perfect golden Toby Hawthorne, Adonis himself, felt comfortable in Mobreigh’s house. Holy fuck. “Oh,” Mobreigh said. “Hey, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Sorry for all this.” He swept the paper strewn about the table into a messy pile and dropped one of his books on it. It’d have to do.
Toby sat down, an amused smile playing on his mouth. “Thanks.”
“Do you want some water?” Mobreigh asked hastily. This was too much. He didn’t know how to do this.
Toby waved his hand. “No, I’m okay for now. Go on, sit. You look like you’re gonna bolt out the door.”
“I do?” Aw, fuck. Mobreigh’s voice had broken at the worst time. He’d squeaked indignantly. Toby was right, maybe it was time to escape. But that would just show weakness yet again, wouldn’t it? Mobreigh sat down in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. His entire body was tense.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Toby said, laughing a little. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, huh?”
Well, Toby Hawthorne, congratulations on your understatement of the year. Here’s a medal.
“Yeah,” Mobreigh said.
“I’m sorry,” Toby said. “I kinda feel like I should’ve reached out sooner.”
“What?”
“You don’t have many friends, do you, Mobe? Is it okay if I call you that?”
Mobreigh nodded, his throat dry. “I don’t.”
“Well, I’m here if you’ll have me,” Toby said. His face screamed earnest concern. He cared. He cared! Oh my god!
“I… Okay. Thanks,” Mobreigh said. What now? He had literally nothing in common with Toby. What would they even start talking about?
“So,” Toby started, leaning his elbows on the rough table. “This is a pretty small place for a whole family.”
Oh god. Toby didn’t know. “Well, uh, it’s actually just me and my sib- my sister!” He’d almost slipped.
Toby’s face fell visibly. “Oh. No parents?”
“No,” Mobreigh said.
“I’m sorry,” Toby said. “I didn’t mean to go there.”
Mobreigh shrugged. “They haven’t been around for a long time. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Oh. Uh, well, hey,” Toby started. He was floundering. “Are you hungry?”
Mobreigh started. “What?”
“I could buy you lunch,” Toby suggested, shrugging.
“I could go for that, I guess. Yeah.” Was this really happening? Mobreigh really hoped Toby couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. It was, like, crazy fast. Crazy, crazy fast.
Oh god, Mobreigh had a crush. Now? When he was going to leave forever in a few months? Good god, he literally couldn’t do anything right, could he? Unless… Unless Toby was going too. But how exactly did you ask someone a question like that? Hey, are you signed up for that crazy suicide mission the government is sending everyone on? Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?
Stupid.
“You ready?” Toby asked. He glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Mobreigh said. “Absolutely ready. Yeah.”
This was getting worse and worse by the second. In the end, they had walked in silence to Toby’s food stand of choice-- one that served lots of chicken and steamed vegetables, which Mobreigh found he really liked-- in silence. Mobreigh excused himself early, citing the need to finish his homework. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
But he’d left Toby with a weak promise they’d do this again sometime, and that they should make an appointment for next time. Toby had agreed, waving his hand and telling Mobreigh he’d see him in class tomorrow.
Well yeah, dumbass. Of course you will.
But even as Mobreigh burned away with embarrassment, a small part of the flame that consumed him was comfortable. Comfortable and nice and nourishing.
Well. He’d just eaten. It had been good food.
And he’d finally, after so long, gotten a real break from everything else.
It was really nice. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed it.

He was still hunched over the table scribbling at his work when Tika came home, sweaty and exhausted as always. Her heavy boots thunked on the planks, dulled only a little by the rug on the floor. She stretched, arms high above her head, and touched her fingertips to the ceiling for a brief moment.
“Showoff,” Mobreigh called without looking up.
Tika spun on her heel to face him, frowning, then puffed her chest out and flexed.
“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny,” Mobreigh said. Completely deadpan.
“What’s gotten into you today, kiddo?” Tika asked, plopping herself down in the chair across from him and tilting it back, one of her raised legs propped against the table to keep her balanced. “Did you grow a sense of humor while I was gone?”
He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. “So what if I did, huh? Big surprise?”
Tika raised her hands in the air. “Hey, easy, kiddo. I’m just playing with you.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Kid, you’re smiling,” Tika said. “What’s going on?”
Mobreigh shrugged. “Had a good day, I guess.”
“You never have good days, Mobe.”
“Well, maybe things are changing,” he shot back. “Maybe I’m starting to feel better. Is that so hard to imagine?”
Tika stopped, setting her chair back on the floor properly. She leaned forward and studied him. She could see something was different, otherwise she wouldn’t be teasing him this relentlessly. Could she guess what had happened?
Frankly, Mobreigh himself didn’t really know what had happened. But either way, he felt good about it. He hadn’t felt good about anything in months.
“Let me guess,” Tika said. “You figured out how to duplicate that miracle shot?”
Way over your head, sis. Classic. He shook his head. There was no point in lying to her, especially when she’d find out sooner or later anyway. “No, I didn’t. I’m telling you, T. It was just a lucky one.”
She crossed her arms. “The ones around it weren’t. If you’re firing within the lines that’s significant improvement on your part, Mobe. You should be proud of yourself,” Tika said. She smiled at him.
“I don’t feel proud,” he said weakly. She was right. He hadn’t been fully immersed when he’d made those shots, though he still hadn’t fully registered where they landed until it was all done.
“I know,” she sighed. “Oh, Mobe, I know. I know it’s been hard for you.”
Well, he wasn’t going to deny that. “Well, I’m not going to deny that,” he said. Life had been getting pretty difficult lately.
“I know.” Tika went silent again, then started and stood up. “Oh! Crap, Mobe, you poor thing!”
“What?”
“You’ve gotta be starving, huh?” she asked.
“Uh, actually--” Mobreigh started, but Tika cut him off.
“I need to get on that. What do you want? What do we have?” she took wide confident steps toward the kitchen, walking like she was still at work.
“Tika, I--”
She stomped a foot on the floor. It was loud. “Bread? We still have some bread, right? Mobe, did I do the shopping this week?”
“Yes,” he said weakly.
“Of course I did the shopping this week. When do I not do the shopping?”
“Tika.”
“Okay, so we have bread. We have some vegetables and things, but do we have any meat left over? A hawk?”
“We haven’t had a hawk in weeks,” Mobreigh said.
“No? Then what the hell--”
“Tika,” Mobreigh said, a little louder this time.
“What?”
“I already ate.”
The sound of metal hitting metal came from the kitchen, stupidly loud in the awkward silence. “Oh,” Tika said finally. “What?” More clattering.
“I got something on the way home from school,” Mobreigh said.
“Mobe… That was hours ago. You sure you’re not hungry?” Tika asked, concern plain in her voice. She wasn’t buying it at all.
“Yeah. I’m fine, I promise,” Mobreigh said. He paused, writing in the last answer on his assignment. “Take care of yourself, T. You’re even more of a wreck than I am.”
Tika’s boots thunked closer and closer, until she appeared in the doorway, tripped herself on purpose, and leaned against the frame. “Oh, am I?” she asked, grinning.
It was so good to see her smile. “Yeah,” Mobreigh said. “You big doofus.”
“That’s rich, coming out of your nasty mouth,” Tika said.
“Yeah,” Mobreigh agreed.
“Hmm. At least you know it,” she said. “All right, well. I guess I’ll take your word. I’m just gonna make myself a sandwich. I’ll leave one out for you if you change your mind?”
“Tika, I’m old enough to make a sandwich myself,” Mobreigh said.
“They grow up so fast,” she joked. “All right, fine. Promise me you’ll do it if you get hungry, though.”
“I will, T.”
“Good. If you need anything, I’ll be in the bath for the next day and a half or so and then you can pester me however much you want.” She turned around, boots clomping away again.
Mobreigh rolled his eyes. “Good to know. I’ll keep it in mind,” he called after her.
Lord, he was tired. It had been a long day. Without lingering too long, Mobreigh set about preparing for bed, much earlier today than usual. The warm feeling he’d gotten earlier still burned comfortably in his chest, having ditched the nausea that accompanied it when it began. He lay awake thinking of tomorrow and Toby Hawthorne, and Toby followed him into his dreams.
It was the first time he’d slept soundly in months.