Of Encounters and Trysts (first draft/try/thingy)

### **1 – If only I’d known**

He knew that she existed, but only vaguely. It’s like – she registered as a physical presence, but that was about it. It’s not like they interacted. They had no friends in common (though considering Aaron only had one friend – maybe two, if he was really stretching it – that wasn’t really saying much). They might have even shared classes, in hindsight, but even then, it was the same sort of thing. They had just… never met. Hell, even when Hayley was talking about which girls she found hot, she never came up. So… yeah. He didn’t really know anything.

The only thing he remembered about her – that he knew for sure – what that she always carried a bunch of folders with her. It was a very specific detail, yes, until you considered the fact that those folders were *enormous*. Very conspicuous, too. She was hard to miss with what looked like actual boxes piled up in her arms. They were all different colours, too, which he thought was… actually kind of neat. Colour-coding, he assumed. It’d probably be useful.

Those folders had been super cumbersome, though. If he remembered correctly, he could recall one occasion where her glasses had slipped off her face and fallen on the floor – it had taken tens of agonisingly long seconds for her to balance the folders on the ground, pick up and put on her glasses, and then pick the folders *back* up without dropping anything else. He remembered thinking that it had all looked overly-complicated for school, and that he was glad it wasn’t him trying to lug those things around.

But aside from that? Yeah, that was just about the extent of his interactions with Plue Abernathy.

That is, until the *phone call incident*.

o0O0o

In all honesty, he had barely even been a metaphorical blip on her metaphorical radar. It had been about as close as one could get to not knowing someone without being wholly unaware of their existence. If you had asked her “what does Aaron Wilder look like”, she wouldn’t have been able to give much more than an unsure declaration of “brown hair?”. Even then, the only reason she would have recognised his name was because of how many times she had seen the list of people in her year.

When she thought about it, she only remembered once instance of ever interacting with him – and even then, she probably wouldn’t have been able to place his name to his face. He had just solidly walked into a doorframe whilst looking behind him to make a joke in the direction of another boy who had been wearing a hat. As he had sat on the ground, bemused expression on his face, she had been unable to resist offering him and hand and helping him up. He had stood on wobbly legs, looked not at her face but past her shoulder, and said “thanks” in a voice far meeker than she had expected. And then, just like that, she had had to get to class, and the incident had been more or less forgotten by the end of the day.

There were a couple of other instances of him doing things, like running too fast in the halls, but the truth was that they were something Plue was thoroughly disinterested in. Between academic studies, physical fitness, and her lessons with her uncle (not to mention the writing she did as a hobby), she had never had the time to worry about socialising with people – least of all some boy who had run past her in the hallways a couple of times. There had never been any reason for the two of them to interact.

That was, until what she came to dub the “incident of the overheard phone call”.

### **2 – Caller ID: [CLASSIFIED]**

By the time her uncle called her, Plue was (thankfully) a good few streets away from the school. After scanning her surroundings and seeing no-one, she pulled the phone out in front of her, caught sight of the caller as “classified”, and swung the device around to her ear, where she spoke into it crossly.

“If you had called me a few minutes earlier, it could’ve been really difficult to explain.”

“*The “if” makes me think we both have something to be thankful for.*” Her uncle remarked in response. She rolled her eyes – despite knowing that her uncle wasn’t there in person to see them, she couldn’t suppress the reflex.

“That we do. I’ve told you this before, but I’ll tell you it again – your caller ID literally doesn’t come up. It’s just the word “classified” and then a bunch of pixels. How the hell am I supposed to explain that to anyone who sees it? Especially seeing as I can’t tell if it’s you or not, so I *have* to check.”

“*Tell ‘em it’s a glitch*.” He, she noted, sounded as nonchalant as he always did. She scraped her free fingers against the arm holding the phone in agitation. “*Or get a special ringtone or vibration sequence. That way, you’ll know it’s me without having to pull your phone out and check.*”

“That’s not something you can pass off as a glitch, Duke!” She hissed. “And my model can’t. Do. Customisations like that. It sucks, I know, but that’s what happens when… I don’t know. That’s just how it is.” For a moment, the other line was silence. Then, she eventually heard a sigh.

“*Sorry, kiddo*.” Duke said. “*Nothing I can do about my team’s creative flair. I bet it was Hill again, he’s always been… well, never mind that*.”

The tense atmosphere began to lift itself away and off of Plue’s shoulders as she listened to her uncle talk. Yes. They could have the conversation about his over-zealous security team later. The focus in the here and now was their time spent talking. Conversing. Catching up. After all, they didn’t get to talk to each other more than once a week.

“*How are you doing?*” He asked her. She shrugged.

“Not dead, at least. That’s something.”

“*Oh, what a surprise*.” He said. “*I would never have deduced that from the fact that you answered your phone.*”

She smirked. “They say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

A cold wind blew through the street, sending fallen leaves toppling over one another. She blew a bang our of her eyes as she adjusted her grip on the phone. The sky was beautiful, she dully noted. The evening sky, with its layers of colours, had always been one of her favourite things. The fact that she was staring at it as she talked with maybe her favourite person? That was nice.

“*Sarcasm is the bastard child of a ludicrous wit*.” Her uncle responded to her saying with his own. “*Try to get me to abandon it, and I will have no choice but to face the Gods and walk backwards into damnnation.*”

“Okay, I’m going to have to stop you right there.” She said. “Ham acting, way too overdramatic for the scenario. 3/10, and the only reason it’s that high is because I’m staring at a sunset and thus in a good mood.”

“*Tough crowd*.” Her uncle lamented, even as she began to laugh.

o0O0o

Bad enough to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation. Worse that the conversation sounded like a private – well, maybe not private, maybe more like intimate. Yeah, an intimate one. Worst that the only reason Aaron was doing it was because the voice of the man over the phone had sounded like Duke Abernathy, the leader of the Bulwark, and some of the stuff that he and the girl he was talking to had said – about a security team and about answering awkward questions – supported the idea.

Man, his conscience was gonna be strangling him in his sleep tonight.

At the very least, he could say that he hadn’t planned it out. He had been walking home from school, trying to mentally plot out what food items he was going to buy that afternoon, when he had passed by this girl so engrossed in conversation, standing and staring at the sky, she hadn’t noticed him. (Well, he *had* passed her by, technically, but he had stopped and gone back to within earshot after realising that he recognised the voice over the phone from the television broadcasts he had seen so many times).

As it was, he found himself awkwardly standing sort-of behind a telegraph pole (which made him a bit less visible) and wondering what the hell he was doing. A part of him wondered if it was sad, that he could go to such great lengths just to interact in some way with his idol. Actually, scratch that, he wasn’t even going to interact with the Duke! That was the worst thing about it! He gritted his teeth and slapped his palm against his forehead a couple of times. Nope, that did it. It had been a pretty dumbass impulse to begin with, but he couldn’t just listen in on a private conversation just because his hero was one of the people talking. Well – he couldn’t any longer than he already had been, of course.

Steeling himself, he took a big step forward and promptly tripped over a slab of pavement that was jutting upwards. He stumbled, waved his arms, regained his balance, felt a significant throb of pain from the foot that had caught the pavement, and, forgetting that the girl wasn’t really supposed to know he was there, practically screamed:

“Son of a motherless goat!”

o0O0o

The yell brought her back to reality frighteningly quickly. Upon the realisation that she was, in fact, not alone, she blanched and took a couple of shaky steps backwards. A person. There was another person. What did they hear? What did they know? What did she say within their earshot?

She was vaguely aware of her uncle saying something. Trying to get her attention. Suddenly feeling *extremely* uneasy, she managed to choke out a “I’ll call you back” before hanging up. (Never mind the fact that part of his security was that he couldn’t actually be called.) She then turned to examine the person, who was busy cursing to himself and rubbing his foot – too preoccupied with that to notice her. She focused and – oh. Oh no. He looked familiar. Vaguely so, yes, but she knew that he went to the same school as her.

He looked up at her. His eyes were slightly square, and had large bags underneath, and were a dark blue that, if she were being fanciful, reminded her of a deep ocean.

Their eyes met.

o0O0o

Upon realising that a.) the girl was still there, and b.) he had probably given away his presence with his yell, he looked up at her. Her eyes were roundish, and her irises were green. Also, her eyelashes were *fantastic*.

Their eyes met.

o0O0o

“How much did you hear?”

She tried to keep her voice light while asking, as if nothing particularly important hinged on the answer when, as a matter of fact, it really sort of did. She had kept her uncle’s identity a secret for years – they had agreed on it. After all, if it ever became common knowledge that she was related to Duke Abernathy, leader of the Sentinel faction and the Bulwark, living legend and champion of humanity – well, she’d never get a moment’s peace.

She’d run through all the worst scenarios in her head before. People asking her to let them into the Bulwark, to give them some kind of privilege, because she knew and was related to the man who ran it. Journalists hounding her and her family for details, insights into the life of one of the most famous men in the system. People angry with the Bulwark, or something it had done, either taking their complaints to her or taking them *out* on her.

And now it was probably all going to happen. Just her luck.

The boy didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he stood up, brushing down the leg of his trousers and hissing as he pressed his foot back on the ground. Right, yes, he had hit it. That had to hurt. Plue felt a wave of sympathy towards him, until she realised that he was probably moments away from irreparably changing her life. And just like that, it was back to priority one. Remaining calm. She could do that, she could do that-!

“That was…” He said, drawing her out of her thoughts. He was talking. And… oh no. “That was Duke Abernathy?” The statement sounded less like an actual statement than it did a question, but…

“Yes.” She offered, because there was honestly no point in denying it. Well, there technically was, but Plue had never been one for lying. It was unenjoyable, and she was absolutely terrible at it. Better, she thought, to rip the plaster off now than eke things out for any longer than necessary.

“And he…” He paused, as if he couldn’t quite believe her words. “He’s your… he’s your dad?”

“Uncle.” She corrected automatically. He blinked several times, then slowly and dumbly nodded.

“Didn’t know he had family…” He muttered. She folded her arms, not sure what to do next. This was the doom scenario. The “secret’s out” scenario. The “I might as well exile myself from civilisation now because Gods know I’m not going to get another moment’s peace from this point onward” scenario. And the boy. He was still standing silently, staring at her. Who even knew what he was thinking?

o0O0o

This was easily the most toe-curling conversation Aaron had had in a good few years. What was he even supposed to say in this scenario? That Duke Abernathy was his idol, and could he please have an autograph? That this whole thing was unintentional, and all he had wanted to do was buy groceries? That he was sorry?

Actually, that last one was a safe bet.

Holding out a hand placatingly, Aaron spoke. “I – I’m sorry!”

The girl’s face, which had previously been tense and pursed, relaxed slightly. Her head tilted to one side as her brows furrowed in confusion. Obviously, whatever she had assumed he was going to say, she hadn’t been expecting that. Suddenly bolstered by the attention, he blundered on.

“I was just on my way back from school trying to get *groceries*, and I wasn’t *planning* on eavesdropping, I just passed by and I realised that that was Duke Abernathy’s voice, and he’s kind of my idol so I stayed around here for a bit, but then I realised how weird that was, so I was just going, and – and I hit my foot, and… yeah…” He trailed off. Had that done…? Anything…? Nope, the silence was just more awkward. *Excellent job Aaron*, he thought to himself. *Because a verbal freight train is the best way to go about this whole situation.*

To the girl’s credit, she didn’t look overly confused or bothered by his rushed explanation. Instead, she ran her gaze over him a few times, mouth twitching as if she wanted to say something, before finally actually speaking:

“Could you… could you not tell anyone?”

Considering that he had never before heard anything about Duke Abernathy having a family, it should have been obvious to him what she was talking about. However, of course, classic Aaron behaviour was to say:

“About what?”

You know, like an idiot.

The girl stuttered for a moment, before raising one hand to her forehead and rubbing her temple. “Y – you know!” She managed. “The bit about me being… about me being related to Duke Abernathy!” She glanced around, as if to make sure there was no-one else around to eavesdrop on *them*, before turning back to him with a frown. “Honestly, I’d really truly deeply appreciate it if that never got out. To anyone.”

Right, yes, of course, it was a secret. Okay. That made sense. No mention of Duke’s family in the media, that made sense. To keep them out of the spotlight, or something. It *did* seem like the sort of thing you’d keep on the down-low – provided, of course, that you weren’t looking for attention.

“Cool.” He said. “Right. Yes. Coolio. Sound, uh… sounds like a plan. I can do that.”

She fixed him with a quizzical look. What, did he not look reliable? No, of course he didn’t. Worn old chinos and a shirt that had actual holes in it? He probably looked like a homeless businessman. He sighed.

“Honestly.” He emphasised. “I like to think of myself as a reasonable person… and I’m not going to give anything away! It obviously means a great deal to you.” He tried to make eye contact with her, but her gaze seemed to flit away whenever his drew too close to it. Damn! How was he supposed to convey his earnestness? Eventually, he settled for cheesily laying a palm over his heart. “I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re-” Now, in a little twist of irony, he was the one looking around for anyone else. There was no-one. Coolio. He turned back to her. “I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re Duke Abernathy’s niece. Swear on my life.”

o0O0o

Those words – “I’m not going to tell anyone” – filled her with an almost unbelievable amount of relief. It was okay. The secret was safe. Things wouldn’t change. She let out the breath she had been holding in deep sigh of relief, rubbing the back of her neck as she did so.

“Well… uh, thanks.” She managed to say. “Really. I really do appreciate it.”

He nodded. “No biggie.” He said. “Like I said, I can tell it’s important to you. And I can kind of see why you wouldn’t want anyone knowing anyway.”

“Right, well… yes. Thanks.” Having said that, she began to walk forwards, passing the boy by and heading down the street. “And now I need to go, so, uh... bye!” Waving over her shoulder without looking back, she began to head to the nearest bus stop, where she knew she could get home from. What she didn’t count on, however, was the boy beginning to walk to – and, for that matter, walking by her side. She shot him what she hoped was a quizzical glance, and he shrugged.

“Store’s that way.” He said. “I need food.”

She nodded assent – food was a typical human need, after all – and the two of them walked together for several streets more, never speaking a word.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Over the course of the entire walk, they exchanged precisely five words:

“My name’s Plue.”

“I’m Aaron.”

### **3 – Life as it is now**

Aaron was welcomed home by his younger sister, Ana, hugging his legs. It was a regular occurrence – heck, he’d probably call it a daily routine – but that didn’t mean he’d grown to appreciate it any less. Surprised that she had arrived back before him, he ruffled her hair.

“Hey, you little gremlin.” He said, squatting down to meet her gaze. “How was today, huh?”

“Boring.” Came the dismaying – if accurate – response. Once again, Aaron had to resist the urge to rake his hands through his ever-lengthening hair. It was so *very* frustrating that he couldn’t stay with Ana himself while he was at school – work was one thing, but if he showed up at an institution of education with a five-year-old in tow, someone whose job it was to ask questions would start hounding him. Which wouldn’t lead to anything good.

Trying to ignore the negative feelings for now, he listened to what his sister was saying – something about how the Adalwins weren’t as fun as he was. Ah, the Adalwins. As much as he was loath to admit it, he just wasn’t capable of raising a child by himself. Physically, perhaps, he could provide for his sister, but he had recognised that she needed some kind of adult presence in her life. So twice a week, while he went to school, he let his sister stay with the Adalwins, who had been good friends of their parents. Their son, Will, was Aaron’s best friend. In truth, they were the closest thing he had had to a family for a while.

“Well, you have to stay with them every now and then.” He said slowly. “Besides, I’m not less boring than them. I go to school, and I work, and I do all sorts of boring adult stuff.”

“But they don’t know all the right games to play!” Ana protested, as if that were the be-all and end-all of the conversation. Hell; to her, it probably was.

“If you wanted, I could *teach* them the games.” He offered. How hard could it be, he wondered. He made a note to himself: *Tell Adalwins that Ana likes to play Warriors and Dragons*. He considered for a moment, before tacking on: *Teach Adalwins how to play Warriors and Dragons*. Ana, however, shook her head.

“They wouldn’t play it as well as you do!”

Unwilling to turn their little discussion into anything close to an argument, Aaron settled for ruffling Ana’s hair again before standing up and carrying his bags through to the kitchen.

“It’s shopping night!” He called out. “You know what that means…!”

“Cake!” Cheered Ana, sprinting through their apartment on her short legs. Her choppy brown hair (Aaron kept it cut himself) flew behind her as she ran. Aaron grinned as he began to fetch ingredients for their once-a-week treat – a small traybake that they’d share. Over the months, Ana had learnt to eke out her pieces so that she’d be able to have cake in the days *after* the actual thing had been made. Aaron, meanwhile, had yet to teach himself that sort of self-control. He envied his sister, in that regard.

In a bag by the hob, Aaron was pleasantly surprised to find some more food. Attached to the bag was a note in the clean cursive that he recognised as Jacob Adalwin’s handwriting. He smiled. They must have left it there while dropping Ana back at the apartment. Normally, he’d have been there to both receive Ana, and thank them in person. Today, however, he had run a bit late, finishing up some work he had been set.

As he thought, his mind drifted to the *other* thing that had been caused by his lateness – his overhearing of the conversation, and the subsequent promise he had made to… the girl. What had her name been? Blue? No, Plue. Yeah, that was it. Plue. Man. Weird enough to find out that Duke Abernathy actually had some kind of family – it had never before been brought up, and he had just assumed that the guy didn’t have anyone left he was related to – weirder to think that he had actually met one of them. Not that he was gawking out over it (it wasn’t like it had been Duke Abernathy *himself*), but it had been… surreal. Like something that just… shouldn’t have happened to him.

Oh, well. It had happened. And that was that on that.

He hummed to himself as he began to work.

o0O0o

As per routine, Plue let herself into the house with no real ceremony. Slipping through the door and shutting it with a thud, she wordlessly doffed her jacket and shoes. She looked up to see that the television was on, playing some program she wasn’t familiar with, and that sister was vacantly sitting in front of it. A couple of empty packets of crisps were scattered on the floor. Plue sighed.

“Hello.” She greeted. The lack of reply from her sister was expected, but it still stung slightly. How much effort, she wondered, would it have taken to turn around and say hello back? Thankfully, at that moment, *a* voice called from a floor above.

“Plue? Is that you?”

“Hey, dad!” She yelled. “I’m back.”

Without any further ado, she began to stride up the stairs, shoulders aching under the weight of her bag as she walked. Flicking the lights installed in the stairway on as she walked, she eventually made it to the sanctuary of her room and dropped her bag unceremoniously onto the floor, showing – in hindsight – scant regard for the notes and the computer that were contained within. A moment later, her door opened and her father walked into the room. Bespectacled and blonde, tripping over his own feet as he entered the room, the fact that they were related was apparently obvious.

“You’re back!” He said, parroting her words. “How was your day?”

“It was alright.” She said in a noncommitted response as she began to unpack. “Nothing special happened, I’m afraid. Nothing to, ah- nothing to report.”

“Right.” Her dad said. “Okay. Sounds good.” He gave her a hug. “What’ll you do now, your homework?”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” She managed to smile at him as she spoke. Simple interactions they may have been, but she could still appreciate the fact that her father, at least, was always willing to spare some effort for her. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” He said to her, before leaving the room. The door closed with a click before popping open once again, the hinges worn down from years of use. She sighed. She loved her dad, she really did, but she was always frustrated at both herself and him for the way their interactions never lasted very long. It wasn’t that they were *insufficient*, they just seemed to be missing something sometimes. Still, she reasoned, it was better to have awkward conversations with someone who was trying to show they cared than to just be… blanked. Her thirteen-year-old sister, was, it seemed, doing her societal duty as a teenager. More than *doing* it. *Owning* it. Really giving the whole ‘surly and uncommunicative’ thing one hundred and ten percent.

To be fair, they had interacted better when they were both younger. When they hadn’t fully grasped the fact that Plue was just… different. Nobody had cared then if the younger of the siblings had actually done the majority of the talking – children, after all, were allowed to be quiet and loud. Well, not always “allowed”, but it was kind of expected that a kid would be super shy or super outgoing when they were young, and then mature and grow into themselves as they were older.

Of course, the fact that Plue had never really found any confidence while growing up had become something of an issue. Fifteen years of age, going on sixteen, and speaking to strangers was still almost paralyzingly terrifying. Eye contact was uncomfortable, social situations were physically exhausting, and the fact that communication itself was often more of a struggle than it was worth were all things that had come to cause Plue their fair share of grief over the years.

It was as she squandered in this self-pity that her mind drifted to the stranger she had interacted with earlier that day. The boy. She couldn’t remember his name, which was embarrassing, but in hindsight, she was actually surprised at how well the conversation had gone. Of course, it had still been uncomfortable, but a lot of that had been more due to Plue’s fear that her secret would be revealed than it was her own faux pas’. She had managed to remain… well, calm enough to get her point across, at any rate. And he had agreed to keep it a secret! She was amazed at that. *And* thankful.

Well, she had procrastinated long enough. It was time to get to work. She turned on her laptop and waited for it to load, staring out of the bedroom window all the while. Looking at the stars. She loved the night sky, she had decided a long time ago. Something about the view was just ineffable. The majesty and infinity of the universe. The natural beauty of the world above them. Yes, she decided, thinking once again to her interaction with the boy *hadn’t* resulted in utter disaster, it could have been a lot worse.

o0O0o

Aaron sighed fondly at the realisation that Ana had, once again, fallen asleep in front of the TV. Manoeuvring silently, he slid the empty plates off of their laps before experimentally ruffling her hair. Nope. She was absolutely dead to the world.

It was as he sat on the threadbare sofa beside his sister, thinking back to how he had learned a secret that he had every intention of keeping (because how could he betray that girl’s trust?), that he decided: things could really have been a lot worse.

o0O0o

However, as it typically did, her brain ultimately reminded her of the underlying awkwardness between her and her father. The fact that her relationship with her mother was no better. The fact that her sister seemed to have stopped caring for her.

Yes, she was hard-pressed to admit it, but the truth was-

o0O0o

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop himself from remembering the fact that it was them and *only* them. That if things were better, he wouldn’t have assumed such a large responsibility by (almost) himself.

It sucked, but-

o0O0o

things could have been better, too.

### **4 – Awareness**

She saw him… a couple more times.

Given that they went to the same school (and that it wasn’t even a particularly large one), she had expected to see him more frequently than she ultimately did. He was only ever there on Tuesdays and Thursdays – the other days, she never saw him. Coincidence it may (technically) have been, but it just seemed… unlikely to her. Far more likely that he was only in school on those particular days. Which really begged the question: why?

o0O0o

It was probably because he’d actually *talked* to her now, or whatever, but he’d actually noticed Plue around school a couple of times. Well, he figured he had before, but now that there was a name to put to the face and a conversation to boot, he was actually able to identify her. Like, his brain recognised that she was a familiar person. Or something.

o0O0o

Logically, it just seemed… strange for someone to only rock up to school two days a week. It wasn’t like it was impossible – it could have been extenuating circumstances, or a medical condition, or something like that – but it was definitely an oddity that served to further her interest.

o0O0o

Of course, it wasn’t like he saw a whole *load* of her, considering that he didn’t spent a whole load of time in school anyway. But it was surreal whenever he did. Most of the people in his year he’d barely interacted with (the only exceptions being Will and Hayley). But now? Now it was like… they’d pass by one another in the hallways and just nod without saying anything. Sometimes. Sometimes they’d not just do anything. It was weird! He was pretty used to not interacting with people outright, and he also knew what it was like to have close relationships with people – this middle-of-the-road acquaintance business was something he knew less well.

Hell, should they have been acquaintances or actual friends? He knew a big secret of hers, right? The fact that she was Duke Abernathy’s niece? It made sense that knowing something like that wouldn’t automatically boost him to friend status or anything, but Aaron was sure that he wouldn’t be able to trust essentially a complete stranger with something so sensitive.

(He later realised that it wasn’t as though she’d had much of a choice anyway.)

o0O0o

Of course, it wasn’t just the fact that he was absent from school so much of the time that garnered Plue’s interest. There was a part of her that didn’t quite trust him, and that wanted to be sure in whatever way possible (besides actually talking to him, because that just wasn’t an option) that he wouldn’t give away the secret that he’d inadvertedly found out.

o0O0o

One interesting thing that he ended up noticing was her strange social standing. Of course, there were the typical social hierarchies. The popular people who were idolized, the people who had precisely no friends or people to interact with at all, and then everyone in between. He *himself* was somewhere quite near the bottom, with exactly two friends. One close one, and one more casual one. Could have been better, could have been worse. It wasn’t like he was worrying too hard about it either way. But the girl? Plue? She was an interesting case.

He’d initially taken her for someone near the bottom of the pecking order, based on her lack of interaction and general demeanour (there was an underlying nervousness to her that seemed to always be there). But a bit of casual observation had revealed almost the opposite. As it turned out, the people as their school seemed almost impressed or intimidated by her, and it took him a moment to realise why. Whilst there *was* that cheeky aforementioned nervousness that he’d picked up on, it was clear that not everyone else had picked up on it. She also acted with deliberation. It was clear that whatever she did, she did with a purpose – and she carried herself with purpose too (good posture, whether she was really trying or not). One way or another, she had carved out a strange sort of niche for herself.

He’d even overheard a conversation a group had had about her one day. It was one of… *admiration* was probably too strong a word. More like curiosity. “What’s her deal?” (Except they were less hostile than that.) The mysterious girl that never talked to anyone. The resident enigma. Or maybe the resident cryptid.

The thought made him snigger.

o0O0o

It was concerning, to go through he days and catch no sight of him. Even as the weeks passed, and she became convinced that he *wasn’t* about to reveal her secret to all, there was still a concern that spawned whenever she couldn’t see him. A gradually more irrational concern, but a concern nonetheless. What if someone else *did* know? Could she really trust him? Where did he go, anyway? It became less a question of personal security, and more a question of inane curiosity. Once her mind fixated on it, however, that was that. It had become a point of interest. *He* had become a point of interest. It was a bit like trying to keep track of some elusive endangered creature – concerning, an arduous process, and generally unrewarding.

There was the constant temptation to talk to him – to ask him directly about her concerns, to ask him whether he *had* kept what he knew to himself. But whenever she had the idea to do so – even if he was right there – she hesitated. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Stupid brain.

o0O0o

Whoever she was, she was… interesting.

o0O0o

Whoever he was, he was… different.

o0O0o

…There was something he wanted to ask.

### **5 – Question one**

“You think you would be willing to offer me some tips?”

Plue turned to the boy whose name she wouldn’t quite remember. The one who knew. Why was he bringing it up in public? It took a moment for her to calm down and register that he hadn’t addressed her uncle by *name* or anything, which helped to soothe her a little. It was then that the question properly hit her:

“Offer you tips?” She was forced to repeat, trying to hold back her incredulity and yet suspecting by the look on the boy’s face that she being somewhat unsuccessful.

“You know…” The boy said. “Like, your uncle knows about… how *things* work.” She could only presume that he was being euphemistic, and she could only presume that the euphemisms were referencing the fact that her uncle was in charge of the Bulwark, and she could only presume-!

Too many presumptions. This was one of the things that made talking to people so difficult.

“You mean… *the Bulwark*?” She whispered the last part. It may have been risky, but she wanted to confirm it for herself, because if it turned out that he had been referring to something else, she probably would have curled in on herself and disintegrated from the force of her own embarrassment. Thankfully – *thankfully* – he nodded.

“Yeah, that. He’s… in charge, so he’s gotta know how everything goes on, and I want to get in. I want to join someday.” She forced herself to look at his eyes for a bit, but ended up feeling overwhelmed. She looked at his ear instead as he continued to speak. “Has your uncle ever told you about how it works, and if he has, do you think you’d be able to help me?”

Even though her interior monologue was mostly just screams of *aaah shit someone’s talking to me* and similar phrases, she managed to keep up a cool exterior as she thought about his question. He wanted to join. Interesting. Though, to be fair, a lot of people did…

Negative side: he wanted her to do things, they barely knew one another, she had a lot going on already, she didn’t want to interact more than she already was, she didn’t have the time to spare to essentially tutor someone, she wasn’t being offered any compensation.

Positive side: he wasn’t forcing her to do anything.

Conclusion: decline.

“I’m… sorry.” She said. “I’ll admit, there’s probably knowledge I could offer you, but my schedule is very busy as is and I don’t have to time to essentially tutor someone for free.”

He frowned (!!!!*ohfuck*) but then leaned back and sighed.

“That’s fair.” He said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s okay.” She said, almost too quickly. He grinned before turning away, throwing her a two-fingered salute as he sauntered away and left her standing in the hallway, not quite sure what had happened or how to feel.

Well, if he’d asked her a question, he was obviously okay with interaction and question-asking in general. And there was something she wanted to ask *him*, so…

### **6 – Question two**

“Hi.” Aaron heard her say, just as he saw her. Stopping himself from shouting (he’d been just about to yell to get Will’s attention), he turned to face her. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead staring at her hands and pulling at the straps of the watch she was wearing. A nervous tic?

“You alright?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips and trying to lean back, make himself look unthreatening. She looked up at him for the first time. Absent-mindedly, he noted that there was a pair of round-lensed glasses propped up on her forehead. Huh. Neato. How’d he not notice that before?

“No, I mean- Yeah, I’m okay.” She nodded. Her gaze flitted back down to her watch strap. “I was just… curious about something, is all.”

“Oh?” He asked. Hmm, that was odd. Did it have something to do with the whole “she-was-Duke-Abernathy’s-niece” thing? Or was it something else? They hadn’t *really* interacted beyond that… he’d talked to her once or twice, he knew, but he wasn’t sure why-

“I feel like you’re not in school a lot?” She – Plue – said, in a tone of voice that made the statement sound more like a question in its own right. “I was just… curious as to why? If it’s not, like, intrusive to ask, or anything.” Her speech sped up, obviously losing confidence. “I mean… I- it’s, uh, I was just wondering.”

Oucho, right for the jugular. He tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously as he tried to think.

“Well, I, uh…” he said. “I have, like, other commitments? I dunno how to phrase it. It’s like… family responsibilities and stuff, you know?”

To his… maybe not *eternal* gratitude, but certainly to a fair amount of gratitude, she nodded acceptingly.

“Right.” She said, after a moment’s borderline awkward silence. “Okay, that makes sense. Sorry again-”

“It’s fine.” He said, but she kept speaking anyway.

“-but I was curious and I, uh, yeah.” She stopped and flapped her arms a bit before stuffing them back into the pockets of the jeans she was wearing. “Yeah. Okay.”

She turned and walked away with a hurried “Bye!” before he could say anything else. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He would have maybe pondered it, but he turned around to see not one but two faces staring at him intently. Will, his best friend, son of the closest people he had left to parents, he’d known for as long as he could remember. Hayley, his second-best friend, daughter of… some people he’d never met, he’d known for about ten months after he’d accidentally hit her with a pen he’d thrown at someone else and she’d declared blood feud. Whilst these two friends of his had radically different personalities, they were currently super in sync in how they were peering at him curiously.

“…Is there something on my face?” He asked. Partly to let them know that their staring was super blatant, and partly because- well, it was always a possibility.

“Who was that?” Hayley responded to his question with another question, which was honestly pretty typical. She quickly peered over his shoulder, presumably to try and look at Plue, but her crestfallen expression told him that she’d already disappeared to somewhere else.

“Uh. Plue, I think.” He said. Moment’s panic – that *was* her name, right? But yeah, he remembered now, yeah it was.

“The resident cryptid. I’ve seen her around.” Hayley said. “I swear, like, she never talks to anyone, though?”

“Weird if that *is* the case, considering she approached him.” Will added, looking like he wasn’t super invested in the conversation but – if the slight smirk on his face was anything to go by – he was enjoying the show.

“Oh, *she* approached *you*, eh?” Hayley echoed, peering at Aaron – who held his hands up like a man staring down the barrel of a gun. “What did she want? You guys working on a project? Are you friends now? Was she asking you out?”

“No, nope, and nah.” Aaron told her in what he hoped was a defensive tone (her certainly felt like he had to be pretty defensive), still holding his hands up. “She just… had a question about something, is all.”

Both of them peered at him for a moment longer, before Will turned to Hayley with a mock-solemn look on his face. “Obviously,” he said, “she asked him out and he had to turn her down in order to retain his status as our school’s number one semi-absentee bachelor.”

“Oh no!” Hayley’s reaction was so over-the-top, Aaron would have believed that that was what had actually happened. “The price of success!” She put her hand over her forehead and bowed her head low, making like an ancient statue. “It’s tough at the top.”

Will patted Aaron’s shoulder solemnly. “We’re here for you in these tough times.” He assured him, although the image was somewhat ruined by the fact that Will couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

Aaron waved both of them off.

“It’s nothing!” He assured them, trying not to laugh himself. “Nothing at all.”

### **7 – Low points**

“We’ve been thinking of moving away.”

The words were not a *literal* hammer blow, but they may as well have been. Plue paused, fork in hand, stunned into stillness.

Her mother, who had said the words, looked mostly nonplussed, continuing to eat as though she had made a mild comment on the weather (instead of saying something as important as what she had). Her father looked a little twitchy, eyes flicking from her to her sister like he was waiting for one of them to react violently. Her sister actually looked up from her phone, which was… unexpected.

“Where to?” It was her sister that asked the first question.

Her mother shrugged like it didn’t really matter to her. Maybe it didn’t. “Away from Nimbus Station, certainly. Perhaps somewhere that isn’t just all cityscape.”

o0O0o

“Where…?!” Aaron was cut off as the fork was thrown at his head. “Oh crap-!” Darting forward, he scooped all of the remaining cutlery away from his tantruming sister. It was plastic, obviously, but he didn’t want to get hit in the face with it all the same. Sighing, he started down as his sister, who wouldn’t stop cooking up a fuss. About what? He wasn’t even sure anymore. She’d been at it all day. He’d had to leave work early because she hadn’t stopped screaming at him – which had been embarrassing *and* frustrating, because of course he wouldn’t get paid for a full days’ work.

What had he tried? Only negotiating, bargaining, shouting… he’d been tempted to give her a noggin, or something, but he figured that roughhousing with a five-year-old wouldn’t have been a good idea under any circumstances. And obviously she was upset by something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

She screamed again, and he clapped his hands over his ears.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, “she could hurt someone with that scream.”

Was it his fault? She was supposed to be, like, more mature by this point, right? But this wasn’t mature! This wasn’t- she was behaving like a toddler! Was it because he wasn’t raising her right?

o0O0o

“Do we know where we’re going for sure?” Plue asked. She herself was still hoping that this wasn’t actually happening, but as it seemed to be, she figured that the best course of action would be to get some definite information. Unfortunately:

“No. We haven’t gotten that far.” Her mother said slightly snappily. Trying to effectively end the conversation.

Plue opened her mouth to say something again, but then thought better of it. It wouldn’t have been worth starting a discussion that would probably evolve into an argument that she wouldn’t win anyway.

She tried to draw comfort from the situation – that she was at least aware of what was likely going to happen ahead of time, instead of finding out nearer and having less time to adjust. But she couldn’t use that fact to make herself happier about the proposed move. She’d lived in Nimbus Station her whole life; almost everything she’d ever known (or, at least, everything she’d ever *experienced*) was here. How was she supposed to adapt to somewhere new? Suddenly overwhelmed with an uncertain yet strong emotion, she looked around the kitchen she was eating in. She *liked* this kitchen, for the most part. And her bedroom. The whole house in general, really. Leaving it would be difficult.

o0O0o

Maybe this was all training, or foreshadowing, or something. Maybe when Ana got older, she’d become an opera singer or something equally ear-aching. That was the only real explanation for the hell she was putting him through now, *that* much was for certain.

Well, it was- was she too old for this? Maybe not? Like, *he* felt like tantruming sometimes, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t relate. He really, *really* hoped that this wasn’t because he was a bad brother and role model, or whatever. But the problem was! He! Couldn’t! Know!

“Stop screaming!” He screamed. She screamed louder. What was she even saying? Something about a- a hand?

Wait.

o0O0o

And what about her uncle? Not only did they get on well, and moving away from him would suck, but she had-! She had a duty, to him and the Bulwark. How could she train if she was living far away? He wouldn’t be able to get ahold of her outside of the city, would he? Would the signal even work? She glanced down at the pocket that her phone was stowed away in, half-heartedly. Considering the way the isfet interfered with technology and radio signals, it was… unlikely that they’d actually be able to keep in touch if she left Nimbus Station.

She tried to rationalize it in her head. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She could work through it. But the more she kept silent and dwelled on it, the more she began to struggle. To feel ill, trapped, helpless.

All she could hear as she ate was her own chewing, and her own heavy breaths.

She finished eating quicker than normal.

o0O0o

“Okay, okay, that’s it…” Aaron whisper anxiously, cooing as he consoled his sister.

Her hand had been hurting again. Really, it should have been obvious. No discernible reason for the fuss? It, well, it made sense.

The same night that their parents had died, Ana had had her right hand badly burnt in a fire. A big portion of the back of the hand had a red burn mark on it, and the scar stretched over to her palm, which was burnt and calloused. (He could feel it whenever he held her hand.) It felt like the hand of a professional sportsperson, or a warrior, or someone who spent all their time holding things. Only difference, obviously, was that it was a five-year-old kid.

And sometimes that scar would flare up. And Ana probably didn’t quite understand yet *why* it hurt so much, or how to vocalise it. Well, she sort of had. Whatever.

She sniffed. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He managed to say, hugging her tighter. “Never your fault.”

o0O0o

Before Plue knew what she was doing, she was-

o0O0o

After Aaron had managed to get Ana to fall asleep, he was-

o0O0o

-out the door.

### **8 – Do-over**

They saw each other on the street.

Aaron had bags of cheap food in his hands. Ana had only just finally gotten to sleep. He’d figured he’d still be awake from the stress, so why not take the chance to get the next session of shopping out the way? Less to worry about in the morning.

Plue didn’t have anything in her hands. She’d almost never gone for a walk just impromptu and by herself before, only a couple of times when she’d been really stressed out, and she hadn’t actually brought anything with her on this occasion. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her thin jacket to deal with the biting cold of the night. She hadn’t put on any shoes before leaving; her bare feet stung as they made contact with the frigid asphalt.

He glanced up to see a figure illuminated by the light of the nearest streetlamp. She – at least, he thought it was a she – was hunched over, staring at the ground. It took a moment to realise what bothered him about the picture, but then he realised that she was *barefoot*. What the hell.

The shadow of another person forced her to look up and actually look in front of her as she walked. It was a boy – a man, a stranger – with bag on his arms. His face sent a jolt of recognition through her.

“Plue?” He asked.

He *thought* that was what her name had been, anyway. He was pretty sure. She’d stopped and looked at him when he’d said it, at least, so it was probably that. He waved a little bit.

Ah, right, it was that guy. The one who knew that Duke Abernathy was her uncle. …She didn’t remember his name. *Shit*.

“Hi.” She said.

Aaron quickly checked- yep, still barefoot. On a random pavement in the middle of the night...? “You’re not wearing any shoes.” He pointed out. She glanced up at him.

She glanced up at him. Of course that was the first thing a person was going to point out. It hadn’t really been a super conscious decision, more like a spur of the moment thing.

“I know.” She acknowledged. No idea what else she could have said, ought to have said. To make her look less weird. To her surprise, Aaron looked to just shrug the information off.

“Well, I mean, as long as you know, I guess.” He said.

She looked surprised.

What even *was* this conversation?

“Well, thanks.” Plue said. Still not sure what else to say, but at least knowing that she felt grateful to him. For not making a fuss. And that she wanted to say thanks.

Now he was doubly confused. But, hey, when life gives you (quirky blonde) lemons, you roll with it. Yeah. That always worked.

“You’re welcome.” He chirped.

They stared at one another a while longer. Plue, for her part, still had no idea how to approach the situation. It was a no-win situation, specifically, because she didn’t want to stand still and stare at this person, she didn’t have a destination in mind to keep walking to (she’d thought about just kind of going around the block, maybe) and the normally comforting presence of her home had felt stifling – that’s why she’d left in the first place. So, she was at a loss for what to do.

Aaron had no real idea why this weird girl was out wandering the streets at night, but he wasn’t gonna question it. Besides, he had to get back to the flat with the spoils from his supply run.

“I’m gonna… head off.” He dipped his own head, unable to do much else because he was using his hands to carry the bags. Plue, meanwhile, almost looked like she was disassociating; at the very least, she seemed completely unresponsive. A big contrast to how she’d behave the last couple of times she’d talked, where she’d been nervous but at least she’d looked like an alive person. Right now, she looked almost like a cadaver someone had propped up and left on the street. So… not great.

“You doing alright?” He asked, before he really knew what he was doing. Then: “I mean, come on, that *must* be cold- you got, uh, shoes somewhere, or do you want to borrow mine?”

He was a bit hung up on the shoes, wasn’t he? Not that she could blame him. She looked down at her feet, saw them shivering on the bitingly cold pavement.

“It’s okay.” She heard herself saying. “I… I have some at home.”

“Oh, good.” He remarked. “Because that looks practically soul-destroying.”

…had he made a pun? Sole=soul, sole-destroying, bare feet… he *had*-!

In the midst of, like, mentally scolding himself for just blurting out puns at this time of night, Aaron realised that Plue was laughing. A giggle that soon erupted into full-blown laugher, as she rocked backwards where she stood and folded an arm over her stomach. It took several seconds for her to calm down; when she did, she sniffed and then looked at him with an entirely different expression on her face.

“Sorry.” She muttered, still smiling. “I don’t- sorry. That was a pun, right?”

“…Yes.” He said.

“It was a good pun.” She complimented him, in a bold step, before kind of sighing and shoving her hands into her pockets. “Whew. That was nice.”

“To laugh?” He sounded… confused. She shrugged.

“Nothing wrong with a good laugh.” She said, wincing at how defensive she sounded. But he didn’t look as though he was really bothered by it. Instead, he stuck his chin out like he was straining to look at something, pursed his lips a little bit, and then nodded crookedly. She had no idea what the mannerism (was it even a mannerism??) meant, but then he turned to her and- well, she could recognise a smile, at least.

“You’re right!” He smiled. “Good laughs are great.”

“Wouldn’t they be called “great laughs”?” She asked.

Oh, he hadn’t even thought of that! He felt like a bit of a goof for calling something “good” “great”, or whatever, but she clearly meant it in like a jokey way, and he could get behind wordplay.

“Eeh, close enough.” He tried to make a hand-waving motion, but then he and his body both kind of remembered that he was supporting large bags of food on his arms, and he ended up almost overbalancing as his tired arm teetered.

Without really thinking about it, Plue stepped forward and grabbed a bag; by the straps, just under where it was hanging off his arm. Then she thought about it, and it was like getting hit over the head with a bat. Why’d she done that? Was she encroaching? Or something? Personal space?

“Sorry.” She blurted out.

“It’s fine. Thanks.” Aaron sounded… relieved, almost. Well, she guessed it made sense.

“Do you want me to take it?” She asked. She saw him, after a long moment, nod.

“Thanks.” He said again. She grabbed the straps of the bags on his arm and tugged them off, slipping them over her own wrists, twisting her arms around as she adjusted to the new weight. She heard Aaron sigh, and he slipped one of the bags on his *other* wrist onto the first one, evenly distributing the weight.

“Thanks.” He said.

She glanced at him. What happened next? Was she going to help him take the bags to… wherever? Did she want to? Could she? (Her feet were still *really* stinging, to be fair.) Aaron caught her eye, and then, inexplicably, he grinned again.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to help me carry them all the way.” He said. “I’m just… taking a break.” He stared up at the sky, and suddenly he looked so blatantly wary that even *she* had been able to pick up on it.

“Take as long as you need.” She offered. Hoping, a little bit, that as long as he needed wouldn’t be that long – but meaning it, anyway.

Well, that was certainly nice of her. He wasn’t unobservant, though – he could see her shivering.

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” He said. “Probably.” And really, he would be. Something about talking to this girl – still a stranger, basically, but already on, like, the fast track to friendship – had loosened up the knot of tension in his stomach. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. Either way, her offer sounded genuine, and it touched him.

“If you’re sure?” She asked. He nodded.

“I’m sure.” He confirmed, before holding out his hand. She glanced down at it, and seemed to kind of stop and pause for a good few moments before giving the bags back to him. Like she hadn’t had any idea what to do with himself immediately.

He peered at her.

“So, do you always find puns that funny, or…?”

Oh, she’d laughed too long? Or something? That wouldn’t surprise her. But-

“I mean, I do, but I… I don’t know.” She considered the open-ended question. “I heard that laughing is an emotional release. It was probably just me getting over some stress.” The explanation sounded more and more right to her as she went through it. Without really thinking, she added: “Not like I’m not short on stress tonight, anyway.”

“Huh. That sucks.” Aaron said. She looked up at him, and though she couldn’t be sure, she thought that he looked sympathetic.

“Thanks.” She said. He shrugged.

“Hey, I know stress.” He revealed. “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And I don’t even know you well enough to call you a worst enemy, so…”

She… didn’t get it.

She didn’t get it. Her face was blank. Whoops.

“That was a joke.” He explained. Her eyes widened and mouth opened in a small “o” as she realised (and man, she was actually way more expressive than he’d initially thought she was). Then she sighed.

“Aaah…”

He waved her off, ignoring the sting in his wrists (he probably should have gotten moving again long before this).

“Nothin’ to it.” He said. “Sometimes jokes don’t hit, is all.” He gave it a moment, before saying: “Okay, this is nice but I need to head back. Before my arms drop off.”

She nodded, swallowing the news that the conversation was coming to an end fairly quickly.

“Same with my feet, probably.” She said.

Aaron nodded. That was fair.

“Cool.” He said. “Cool, cool, cool, cool. I, uh- seeya!” He waved, and then began to walk back home.

She watched him stride off. Well, that had been interesting. But also, nice. Sort-of.

…she probably ought to head back too.

### **9 – Progress**

The next time she saw him, he actually stopped to say hello.

“Doing better today?” He asked, as though they’d talked the previous night and not three days previously. Still, she nodded.

“Yeah.” She said. Then, feeling uncharacteristically bold, she blurted out: “I’m wearing shoes today.”

He threw a glance down to the ground before coming back up to look at her.

“That you are.” He confirmed, before smirking. “Nice job.”

His eyes were intense. He kept trying to catch her gaze, and she had to keep avoiding it. They’d made eye contact for a moment, and she’d felt overwhelmed almost immediately. Like they were sending out constant streams of noise and information. (Not *literally*, but… it felt that way.)

“You’re still not in school regularly.” She pointed out, trying to distract him. It looked like it worked.

“Nope.” He confirmed. She wasn’t really looking at his face, so she couldn’t tell if his expression had changed at all, but this voice sounded different. Oh. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to talk about that.

“I mean- it’s fine, if you don’t want to talk about it.” She hurried to correct her foot-in-mouth statement. “I wasn’t trying to… I was… I was just making an observation, is all.”

“Nothin’ to it.” And his voice sounded different again. She looked at him for the first time. He was smiling again. “It’s not really the done thing; I know that much.”

“Nah, but that’s okay.” She suddenly felt a bit empathetic – it wasn’t as though she could really associate with “the done thing” (or “things”), herself. “Nothing… there’s nothing wrong with not quite fitting in.” She’d, in all honesty, tried to keep that in mind for her own sake, for a long time. Sometime it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But it was always worth a try.

Aaron smirked again, and she thought to herself that maybe this time, it had worked.

“You’re right.” He said, softly. “Nothing quite wrong with that.”

The two stood in front of each other for a little while, with nothing else really being said. Plue eventually checked the time.

“Ah-! I should go, I have literature studies.” She said, readjusting the heavy backpack on her shoulder (it was heavy because she had everything she could possibly need during the school day and them some stuff she didn’t – maybe it wasn’t practical, but she found the weight comfortable).

“You do that as well?” He asked, deftly leaning his shoulder a little to let someone walk past them. She nodded.

“Yeah, I really like it. It’s one of my favourite classes?”

“The stories are fun, aren’t they?” He asked. She nodded, beginning to enjoy the conversation even as her leg began to bounce up and down anxiously.

“Yeah!” She breathed. “I- I mean, I- well, I think it’s really interesting to, like, take in how authors create their works. What they were thinking of, what points they were trying to make. I love all that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even though they probably didn’t mean to imply most of it?”

“Yeah!” She nodded. To be honest, she’d thought about the fact that symbolism and stuff in novels was often unintentional herself before; but she’d also figured that she’d throw herself behind the idea anyway. “It’s not like we know for *sure* whether or not the author meant something without asking them, and I think that even if they didn’t mean to put it in there, it’s interesting that there’s still stuff that people can uncover based on how they perceive something. In some ways, that’s *more* interesting, because you have people coming at a story from totally different perspectives and pointing out stuff that, like, not even the author thought of originally.”

Aaron looked a bit dazed, and she realised abruptly that she’d begun rambling. “Oh, shit-!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry! Sorry, I went on about that.”

“It’s fine.” He said. “It’s not like it was, like, a bad point. Just new to me.”

“Oh, right.” She forced a giggle. “That’s fair, then. New is scary.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” He asked.

She wasn’t sure how she would have responded to that if she hadn’t realised the time.

“Oh, right, lesson.” She began to run down the hallway, absent-mindedly waving over her shoulder. “Seeya later!” She called.

She heard him say something after her.

It was only after she was in the lesson, only half-paying attention, taking in literature analysis with half of her brain while reading through a document her uncle had sent her about stratocracy with the other, that she realised she’d enjoyed that conversation.

Did this mean that Aaron was, like, her friend now?

Neat.

### **10 – Five things, one thing**

After befriending Plue – at least, he would consider them friends, he wasn’t sure if it was mutual – the first thing that Aaron really noticed was that she seemed to be writing, like, *all* the time. Not in a literal way, of course (that didn’t even seem physically possible), but it sure seemed like she always had a pen in her hands or behind her ear, or a laptop in front of her. She typed super-fast, as well, and he quickly came to associate a *clack-clack-clack* sound with her presence.

Some of the time, if he asked about what she was writing, she’d get flustered and not actually tell him. Which was an interesting little detail. But most of the time, she’d just tell him. It was, basically, a load of essays. Anything from “list and evaluate the defences used by the outer sectors against the isfet” to “how is the theme of “the other” presented in “Home” and one other novel”. She’d always sit back, click her fingers, plug some headphones into her ears, and then track her fingers so quickly across the keyboard it sounded like a machine-gun.

Sometimes he wondered just what she was learning – as far as he knew, their history syllabus wasn’t so in-depth on the formation of the Bulwark as some of her writings got, and he had no idea where her more political essays (such as the one that was essentially a comprehensive list of all the flaws and respective solutions found within the Order of Champions) actually came from. But he’d never give it much thought, always remembering after a moment or two of thinking about it that he didn’t actually spend as much time in school as everyone else, so he was probably just missing all of that stuff.

Ah, well. It didn’t really bother him.

Even if she wasn’t typing, there was every chance she’d be writing something in a small notebook with her pen. Scribbling down words in a handwriting that he’d seen once and been *completely* unable to decipher, she always wrote with a frown, like she was glaring at the words intently and forcing them to work in her mind. Or something.

He’d asked her about it, after they’d been friends for about a week. Well, “asked” hadn’t really been the right phrase. More like “commented on it”, really.

“I feel like you never stop writing.” He’d said. She’d looked up from her computer (an essay on the ins and outs of the bastion militia) with a sort-of smile on her face.

“Yeah, people have said that to me before.” She’d said. She’d sounded very over-it. “My uncle once told me that I write like I’m running out of time.”

“Let’s hope not.” He’d joked. She’d chuckled, and that had been the end of that particular conversation.

o0O0o

The second thing Aaron had noticed about Plue was that she basically didn’t have a consistent way of wearing her glasses. Sometimes they’d actually be in front of her eyes (where, he figured, they were supposed to be?), but other times they’d be perched on her forehead – OR she wouldn’t wear them at all! It was weird.

He eventually bit the bullet and asked her about it – and ended up more confused as she proceeded to explain that she wore (or didn’t wear) her glasses based on specific circumstances. He got the general gist of it, but the actual circumstances themselves went over his head. It was… it was weird. But hey, whatever, it seemed to work for her, at any rate.

o0O0o

The third thing he’d noticed was the fact that she always carried a lot of random objects around with her. As the two of them spent more and more time together (not that it was ever really a *lot* of time, but they’d quickly taken to chatting in-between classes and before school began), he saw her with stranger and stranger things. A bent-out-of-shape paperclip. A pocketwatch. She’d once pointed and fired a laser pointer at the ground, before starting and putting it away when he asked her about it. She’d explained in an awkward rush:

“Well, I mean, I- I guess I just thought it was cool. Makes me feel kind of sci-fi, a bit.”

“Can I use it?” He’d asked, before he could really stop himself. She’d chuckled nervously.

“I’m, ah, I’m afraid not.” She’d said. “I mean- it’s nothing *personal*, but I try to be responsible with it, and the one time I lent it to someone I lent it to my sister, and our dog was chasing it, and she pointed it at me and the dog ended up hitting me in- between the legs.”

For everything that he’d found out in that small shpeel, the first thing his garbage brain commented on was not the fact that she had a sister (or a dog), and not the fact that he was sympathetic, it was:

“Doesn’t that not hurt for girls as much as it does for guys?”

She’d gone red at that.

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, I wouldn’t know.” She’d blustered. “But it’s still- I mean, I-”

“It’s okay!” He held up his hands in what he *hoped* was a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry. Just me being an idiot. Ignore that.”

“…Okay.” She’d said after a while.

There had been no further conversation that day. (And Aaron had spent the next period of his free time mentally kicking himself for putting his foot in it like that.)

o0O0o

Thing number four? She was actually always physically moving. He thought that was cool: she was like him, like that. Well, sort of. He, he was always very active, sort of walking everywhere quickly and never sitting still for long and just generally being productive and doing *things*. With her, it wasn’t so apparent (which is why he hadn’t noticed it straight away, probably), but after a while he’d noticed that if she *wasn’t* writing something at the speed of light (and even if she was, sometimes), she’d be moving in some way. Her foot or leg would routinely bounce up and down as she sat, and she’d twirl her pen or drum her fingers if she was thinking about what to write next.

He never commented on it, figuring there was no real reason, but his brain insisted on keeping the information in mind. Maybe it was a solidarity thing: “*hey, look at us, both of us can’t sit still for five seconds*”. He didn’t know. But it didn’t really matter.

o0O0o

The last thing he’d noticed – and, really, he wasn’t sure why he’d processed it sooner, because in hindsight it seemed really obvious – she was just so… *expressive*. Not as though everyone else in his life was a close book, or whatever, but he could always tell exactly what she was thinking at any given time.

He’d assumed during their first meetings that she was just nervous, or uneasy – and, well, she had been, he supposed – but as he’d gotten to know her, she’d never stopped being very visibly emotive and very transparent. She seemed anxious a lot as well, which kind of stuck in his mind, but mostly it was just interesting to be able to tell how she was feeling at a glance. Her whole body kind of scrunched up when she was concentrating (head angled forward, shoulder’s hunched, eyebrows furrowed), for instance. And though she never met his eyes, she’d always look in his general direction when she was paying attention to him. She could even do it while she was writing, looking up at him while still typing out coherent sentences on the keyboard. (He had no idea how she did that.) All of her emotions came with big tells like those ones, and though it may not have been very long since the two of them had really met and become friends, he hadn’t looked very hard to pick up loads of them.

It was interesting, and it was different, and it meant that he quickly came to enjoy his interactions with her – even if they were fairly one-sided.

o0O0o

if there was one thing Plue could say she’d noticed about Aaron, it was… well, he dressed weird.

The first times they’d met, he’d looked fairly normal. In retrospect, his shirts had been a little brightly-coloured, and his socks had been mismatched, but whatever. But as she really got to know him, she noticed him wearing weirder and weirder stuff.

One day, he came in with a shirt that looked, like, mesh-y. Like a fishnet. A mesh shirt. And he’d also been wearing socks that had come up to above his knees, that had been neon pink.

Another time, he’d been wearing an oversized orange hoodie, and short sports shorts (which seemed inconsistent).

She’d also seen him wear sandals, one glove, a holographic skort (sports skirt), and shorts that had been so psychedelic she’d gotten a headache just by looking at them.

As if that weren’t enough, none of the clothes even looked to be in very good states of repair. There were a fair few tears and, though they weren’t *dirty* perse, a lot of them looked washed out and aged, if not a bit grimy. Like they were old.

What was up with that?

### **11 – Conflict of interests**

“You said you wanted to join the Bulwark?”

Aaron turned around to look at her, and Plue quickly averted her gaze, unwilling to make eye contact with him. Still she shrugged off any nerves and kept talking.

“Sorry, that was abrupt.” She admitted. “But you said that you wanted to join the Bulwark, right?”

“I- yeah.” Aaron nodded. Plue focused on him.

“You know, a lot of what we actually study in school is supposed to be beneficial to, uh, to a career in that.” She told him. “Like, okay, it doesn’t give you any specialised knowledge, but an education is definitely going to help you leaps and bounds if you want to join. It’s not all front-line warfare, you know – there’s a lot more politics and semantics and statistics than you’d think.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I want to do.” Aaron argued. He’d folded his arms. “I want to be on the front lines.”

Plue resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was a common opinion she’d heard – a large amount of people who hoped to join the Bulwark did, indeed, want to join for the sake of fighting directly against the isfet, on the “front lines”. What they failed to realise was that the Bulwark was actually a much more complicated system than they would have initially thought. The struggle against the isfet had gone on for such a long period of time, that by this point, most if not all of the planets and settlements in the Erde system submitted to the Bulwark as its authority. This meant that the force had evolved over time from a one-purpose military organisation to the Erde System’s uniting ruling structure. Consequentially, there was more to joining the force than just being a soldier. Even members of the popular Order of Champions (the branch of the Bulwark most dedicated to actual combat) were just as likely to be used as law enforcement in places where it otherwise lacked, or used to guard important individuals, as they were to actually be allowed to take the fight to the outer edges of the system, where the isfet was at its strongest.

“Everyone wants to be on the front lines.” She said, before adding bluntly: “Not everyone actually ends up there.”

“Well, then, how is schoolwork going to help me get there?” Aaron asked. Plue couldn’t help but wonder if he sounded peeved. She couldn’t quite tell – but assumed so.

“Hell,” Aaron continued, “if I have less book smarts, that might actually put me at an advantage, because then I’ll be more expendable, and they’d be more willing to send me out there.”

Plue stepped back in shock. Was he insinuating…? “Do you *want* to die?” She gasped.

“What? Oh, oh, no! No, of course not!” He replied. She saw him drag his hand down his face. “Yeesh, that’s not what I was getting at all…” He removed said hand from said face and looked back at her. She forced herself to meet his gaze – at least for a moment. His eyes were intense. She looked away again.

“Then what did you mean?” She asked.

Aaron sighed.

“I mean that I’d look more expendable in the eyes of the Bulwark.” He said. “So, there’s a higher chance that they’d actually let me fight. Not that I’d consider *myself* more expendable, or, like, actually try to die.” He laughed a laugh that even Plue could tell was forced.

She sighed.

“Again: not how it works.” She said. He glanced at her. He looked curious.

“Okay.” She sat down on the lunch hall bench he’d been sitting on and she, until then, had been standing beside. “Basically, the Bulwark has a lot – a *lot* – of political influence now, right?” She asked. Aaron now looked confused.

“Does it?” He asked.

Plue was torn. Part of her was exasperated and worried – how could someone *not* know this? – but the other part of her didn’t really mind. She liked explaining things like this, and it wasn’t as though she’d had anyone to just talk at for a while. She decided to embrace the positives of the situation.

“Okay, so, uh, basically.” She stammered with her words as she tried to discern how best to phrase everything she wanted to say. Aaron, she noted with something akin to glee, looked as though he was paying close attention. “Before the isfet, the Erde System was a bunch of rudimentary settlements, right? Well, not all of them were “rudimentary” in that sense, but like, they were all separate based on stuff like what planet or landmass they were on.”

Aaron nodded. “Okay…”

Plue nodded back. “But when the isfet came along, the Bulwark was created to combat it. And because it became, like, *the* authority on handling and fighting the isfet, these local settlements and their governments came to rely on them more and more, and they gained more and more power. Eventually, everyone sort of decided that the best thing to do was to just hand the reigns over to the Bulwark entirely. So now it’s, like, *technically* in charge of everything, I guess.”

“That’s weird.” Aaron said softly. She turned to him, curious. What part of it did he think was odd. He turned to her, probably sensing that she’d began paying more attention to him, and spoke. “I mean, it’s weird that everyone would just kind of agree to be ruled over by the Bulwark. People normally are really stubborn about leadership, yeah?” He pointed out.

Ah, that. To tell the truth, Plue had been confused about it as well. But she’d thought it out since then.

“Makes sense, but my best guess is that everyone was made desperate by the isfet.” She reasoned. “The best way to get people to unite is to put them against a common enemy, right?”

Aaron nodded, stroking his chin like he had a beard (he didn’t). “I guess…” He mused.

“Necessity is the greatest motivator.” Plue said. “Obviously the isfet became everyone’s number one priority.”

“Yeah.” Aaron nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” Then, he smiled. ““Necessity is the greatest motivator”. I like that. Did you come up with that?”

“I, uh- yeah.” Plue admitted. It had kind of come to her one day while she’d let her mind wander, and she’d come to really like it as a phrase.

Aaron’s smile grew wider. “Nice one.” He complimented her.

“Thank you.” Plue said.

Aaron leaned back against the lunch table the two were turned away from. “Anyways, continue.” He said after a moment’s silence. “How does this connect to me having to stay in school to join the Bulwark?”

“Oh? Oh, right!” The original topic of conversation came to Plue in a flash. She flushed. Hopefully, Aaron didn’t think she was some kind of doofus for forgetting about what they’d originally been talking about. That was how conversation worked?

Aaron blinked at her. She realised with a jolt that he was still waiting. Her shame grew.

“O- okay, so.” She managed to say. “So, the Bulwark is pretty much in charge of everything. That means fighting, sure. But that also means politics. It means local security and law enforcement. It means government. It means basically everything that comes with being in charge of stuff. Not to mention how all the moving bits and bureaucracy actually work. The Order of Champions and the Pathfinder’s Guid have different colour schemes and surface-level functions, but they also function in super different ways internally. So, if you want to join the Bulwark, you *have* to know about all of that. I don’t think they’d let you in otherwise.”

Aaron was frowning now. “So, where can I learn all of that?”

Plue shrugged. “Well, for you, there’s good and bad news I guess.” She turned to face him. “The good news is they opened this place a while ago called the Bulwark Training Academy. Basically, you go there for a year and it’s like a crash-course in everything you could ever need to know about the Bulwark and all of the aspects in it.”

She spared Aaron a look – he still looked unhappy. “And the bad news…?”

Oh, right.

“The bad news is that they won’t let you in until you pass the entrance exams.” She said. “There’s a physical one, which you have to train for, but there’s also one that you need to have academic knowledge in. And from what I know, it’s fairly high-level.” She tried to force her expression into something that looked, like, apologetic. “Basically, seeing our education system through to the end is the only sure-fire way to get that knowledge in. So you need to stay in school.” A moment’s silence. Then she tacked on: “Also, I don’t think they’ll consider your application if you’re not a legal adult.” And then, for good measure: “Sorry.”

Even she could tell that Aaron was unhappy with this information. He slumped back over the table (almost hitting the half-empty glass of water he’d been drinking from with his head), and stared at the ceiling in a morose fashion.

“Are you… okay?” She ventured to ask. He stayed still for a moment, and then turned to look at her. He looked- well, actually, he looked completely unperturbed now. Somehow, he’d turned his face back to an enthusiastic sort of beam without her even noticing. How had he done that?

“I’m fine!” He proclaimed. “Just, uh- in hindsight, I really should have researched that for myself and found out earlier.”

Plue blinked as he spoke.

“But of course,” he proclaimed, “y’know, I won’t let that stop me. I’ll find a way to get in either way.”

“You mean, you’ll be here more regularly?” She asked him. He shook his head and let out a small laugh.

“Nah, can’t.” He revealed. “But I’m sure I can get in another way. Maybe if I talk to someone-”

“But that’s not how it works!” Plue interrupted, before stifling a squeak of shame as she realised that she’d just cut into what he’d been trying to say. “I mean- I’m sorry, it’s just, I really don’t think it’s possible.”

Aaron looked confident as he turned to face her.

“I’ll find a way.” He said, sounding very self-assured. Plue almost would have been inclined to believe him, if she hadn’t known the system in such depth. As it was, she knew his quest was fruitless.

Before she could say anything, though, Aaron stood up and cracked his knuckles.

“Right!” He proclaimed. “Nice talking to you, Plue, but I should… *probably* go. Things to do, ya’know?”

Wordlessly, Plue did nothing more than wave him off as he strode confidently away; looking for all the world like he was about to make it all happen through sheer force of will.

She couldn’t help but envy him a little.

### **12 – A quick detour**

“Oh my Gods.”

“Oh. Uh, hey.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Plue could only stare.

She hadn’t really been planning on meeting Aaron anywhere in general – whenever or wherever they interacted, it was fairly random – but encountering him halfway into a vent outside the fast-food place right by their school? Hadn’t been her plan.

“What…” She hesitated, even though she actually knew what she was planning on saying for once. Maybe she was just in shock. It *was* a sight to behold. (And the fluorescent pink shorts weren’t helping the whole appearance.) “Actually- not “what”. *Why*?”

Aaron hummed. “I get the feeling that no answer I give is going to make this look good.” His voice echoed from within the vent.

Plue, suddenly feeling self-conscious about staring at him for so long (specifically for staring at his… hindquarters) turned around and began wringing her hands, not sure what else to do with herself. “Probably not.” She admitted. “But I like to consider myself an open-minded sort of person.”

“Lucky me.” Joked Aaron.

She stood with her back to him for a few moments longer.

“Well?” She eventually encouraged him.

“Pancakes.” Was Aaron’s answer.

Plue blinked. “…I’m sorry?”

“This place.” There was a shuffling noise, and suddenly a loud slap. Plue wheeled around to see that Aaron had shuffled back out of the vent and landed on the ground behind her. As he talked, he dusted himself off. “It makes great pancakes. I wanted some.”

“So you… you were just trying to, what, sneak in through the back vent?” Plue folded her arms, mentally reassessing her view of this guy. He’d seemed nice enough so far, but if he was an actual thief, she’d have to reconsider this whole… whatever they had.

Aaron scoffed. “I wasn’t *trying* to. I was.”

“Semantics!” Plue gestured wildly. “You weren’t- you’re not stealing, are you?”

Scuffing his shoes against the ground, Aaron looked up at her.

“I mean,” he said lowly, “what if I was?”

“I-” Plue cut herself off, trying not to say anything too judgemental or hasty. She didn’t want to- well, stealing was obviously illegal, but she remembered a something her uncle had once told her: ‘*there’s a lot of leeway between legality and morality*’. A person breaking the law didn’t necessarily mean they were a legitimately bad person, right?

Aaron tilted his head to the side, and it dawned on Plue that he was waiting for an answer. Quite intently, by the looks of things.

“Well, I’d ask why.” She replied off-the-cuff. “Bearing in mind you’re obviously not supposed, to steal-”

“It’s hardly one of life’s unwritten laws.” Aaron interrupted her coolly. Was he trying to get her to say something damning?

“Because it’s a *written* one.” She retorted, before clearing her throat. “That is- I’d… do my best not to judge. And I’d do my best to keep an open mind.”

Aaron stared at her for a few moments more. She wondered what he was thinking – but then, he laughed.

“I- huh?” She tried to figure out where the mood swing was coming from. Aaron just shook his head.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m messing with you. No theft here!” He held up his hands. “At least, technically speaking.”

Plue didn’t actually say anything out loud, but the confusion must have shown on her face, because Aaron laughed again before pointing up to the vent.

“Okay, so,” he explained, “technically the employees aren’t allowed to give way leftovers, right? But I’m friends with them, and we’ve all agreed that I can take said leftovers for myself.” He smacked his stomach. “Delicious pancakes. But, like I said, they’re not allowed to give ‘em away. So instead, I’ve got to sneak in and get them. They’ll bundle them up and leave them out, but they don’t actually hand them over to me directly. That way, if I get caught, they get plausible deniability, you know?” His face softened. “They’re good people. I don’t wanna drag them down with me if worst comes to worst.” But then, he shook his head a little, and his face un-softened. (Hardened?) “But, that won’t happen. Not to brag, but I’m kind of a professional.”

Stumped, Plue rested her hands on her hips as she tried to process the situation. “So… it both *is* and *isn’t* theft?”

Aaron made finger guns at her. “It’s only bad if I get caught.” He winked at her; but then his face fell.

“Hmm?” Plue let out a questioning tone.

“Why are you even here?” He asked. “I mean, here in this alleyway.” His eyes widened. “Are you, like being followed?” He took an energetic step towards the alleyway entrance before Plue held out a hand to stop him.

“Whoa! No, none of that. I’m not- wait, why would I be being followed?”

Aaron paused. “Well,” he said, “the- you know.” He pursed his lips, before saying sotto voice: “The whole Duke Abernathy thing.”

Well, Plue had to admit, that *would* probably do it. Fear of unwanted attention as the Bulwark Supreme Commander’s niece was part of the reason why she wanted to keep her identity a secret, after all. But…

“I’m not being followed. No-one knows, remember?” She reminded him. “I wouldn’t have sworn you to secrecy otherwise.”

“Right, right.” Aaron nodded, backing down as he accepted that logic. “But then, why *are* you here?”

Plue raised an eyebrow. Seriously?

“I’m here,” she explained slowly, “because I was walking home from school, and as I was walking past this alleyway, I saw someone – specifically, I saw their *bright pink shorts*-” she gestured to the offending article of clothing. “-and I came over to see what was going on for myself.”

“Huh.” Aaron sounded nonplussed, but she saw him look down at the shorts anyway. “And how’d you know it was me?”

“Because it’s- the shorts are a very *you* article of clothing She said, truthfully. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that there’s apparently no end to your strange fashion choices.”

Even as she was saying it, she felt like curling inward – had she been too confident, too cutting? Would he be genuinely upset by that comment? – but Aaron just snorted.

“You got me there.” He admitted. “And, well, hey- now we both know secrets about each other. Evens stevens.” He turned away from her, and leapt up to grab onto the edge of the vent – clearly intending to pick up where he’d left off. “So, yaknow, I guess if you ever want insurance against me giving your secret away-”

“I don’t need any.” Plue had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at how ridiculous this whole situation was. “I… I trust you.” The admission was almost a surprise to her, but as she said it she realised that it made sense. She *did* trust him. And he hadn’t let her down yet, had he?

Halfway through hauling himself up onto the ledge, Aaron paused and stared back down at her. There was something in his gaze; something Plue couldn’t put into words, but knew was there nonetheless.

“You’re good people too.” He said, suddenly, like he was telling himself as much as he was telling her. Then – before she could respond in many meaningful way – he was gone. And she was standing alone in the alley, wondering when life had gotten so complicated.