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Date Posted: 00:14:59 01/25/02 Fri
Author: Tristan
Subject: Trying to put it all together
In reply to: Marz and Tia 's message, "Going and coming" on 18:24:11 01/24/02 Thu

Tristan was practically dumbstruck by Corum’s response. He hadn’t realized the guy could actually speak so intelligibly for so long. He tried to pretend like he didn’t care, because he’d been so certain Corum would realize he was in way over his head, and would just back off to go back where he’d come from. But unfortunately, he kept saying things that made sense. Some of it made a lot of sense, probably because he’d really known all this stuff all along, deep inside, but had just refused to acknowledge it.

At first he thought it was just plain silly that Corum thought how he spoke to Marz sometimes mattered as much as what he said. The point was, he hadn’t said anything bad at all; Marz was just so frigging oversensitive that he always took everything way off track. But as he listened and thought about it…as he really thought about it, he knew that it was true. He already knew Marz was constantly afraid that he would leave him. Not a big surprise that he would jump on seemingly innocent statements and turn them into something that they weren’t.

And I guess it was a bit insensitive on my part.

He quickly brushed the admission aside, and returned his attention to Corum, now no long giving the semblance of not listening. He still frowned at every thing he said, but hey, at least he was paying attention now.

He sighed. So Marz needed affection. I already know that, he thought, biting guiltily at his lip. Obviously, that’s why he had raced off in the direction of the lake when he’d noticed that Jeremy was gone. Didn’t take a genius to guess where the kid had run off to—but anyone who knew Marz also wouldn’t even need to doubt that he’d welcome the attention.

I should have gone after him, he reasoned with himself. A second later, he shook his head angrily. But I was mad at him! And I still am, too! “Damn you, Marz,” he muttered very softly to himself. “And damn me for wanting to put up with you!”

Needing to put up with him was more like it. Tristan sighed again, pausing to glare at Corum when he called him stubborn. Just because he knew what he would and wouldn’t stand for didn’t make him stubborn. He was slightly confused when Corum said he was supposedly older than Marz, and then he realized he was talking about his true age.

He rarely thought about his actual, physical age. It didn’t actually mean anything to dragons, which was why most stopped keeping track of their hatching days as soon as they passed adolescence. Although Tristan was aware that he would be reaching his three hundredth birthday soon, he knew his own kind wouldn’t consider him an adult for another hundred years, at least. He looked, felt, and acted like an eighteen-year-old mortal, nineteen, maybe twenty at the most. Wasn’t his fault these people aged in such a short span of time.

At least Marz was different. Tristan could tell, from the smell and taste of his magic, at least, that he wasn’t entirely mortal. Whether he would age as quickly as a regular mortal was a mystery, but it wasn’t something Tristan wanted to particularly dwell thinking on. Hell, they’d only known each other for a few months anyway. They didn’t need to go worrying over stuff like that.

He returned to listening to Corum, glaring at him once again when he said something about him enjoying being alone. Just because he could do it, and did do it, didn’t mean he necessarily liked it. He hated being alone! But he’d always been alone, and for the longest time, didn’t know how else to be. Now he still did it out of habit. Not because he liked it, or enjoyed his own company, and didn’t like other people. It would probably be fairer to say he was afraid of other people, maybe even afraid of how they’d take to having him. But naturally, that wasn’t something he’d ever admit to anyone aloud, with the exception of maybe Marz.

Finally, the truth was hammered home. Corum was right. They didn’t communicate. Yes, they talked, and stared at one another, and said I love you, or I understand, or It’s okay. But he was pretty sure he’d never sat Marz down, looked him in the eye, and said, “We need to talk about this.” Only after the shouting, and after the accusations, and the stomping away, and ignoring one another for a day, did they finally get to the apologizing. And yeah, sure, making up was pretty fun—okay, make that really fun—but they never would have even had to make up if they’d only tried to talk to one another first.

Well, all right, but that was all a load of crap, really. “Communicate?” he asked carefully, narrowing his eyes slightly at Corum. “All we have to do is communicate more, and that’ll make things better?” Corum simply shrugged and nodded, because it was an easy thing for him to say.

Tristan shook his head. “No way. Sometimes I just get too mad at him to want to sit down and talk.” He scratched at his head, feeling suddenly frustrated. “Okay, I mean, I know you’re right. It’s what I should do. But…but it’s so hard!”

Poor baby! he retorted to himself, snorting slightly. Well, nobody said being in a relationship was supposed to be easy. Hell, and not everyone was fortunate enough to meet up with somebody like Marz, too.

“Thank god it was me,” he whispered, closing his eyes ever so briefly. After a second or two of silence, he turned to Corum again. “I know he’s insecure,” he said quietly. “And I know I’m…sometimes a little insensitive.” He squared his shoulders, tossing the cigarette aside into the dirt. “But you’re right. Getting mad and being by myself won’t solve anything. And I guess I should…I guess I should learn how to be more…well…you know.” He turned a little red, because it was such a humiliating admission. “Like Jeremy.”

He wanted to be affectionate; he wanted to shower Marz with attention. He didn’t want to always hang back, slightly behind him, occasionally reaching out to touch him every so often as if to show everyone around them who he belonged to. But just like his ever-present loneliness, just because he knew it would make him happy didn’t mean it would be easy for him to do.

“I’m going to find him and talk to him, right now,” he said, standing up quickly, as if to prove his point. He started to walk away, but then he turned around and stared at Corum, a rather uncertain look coming to his face. What a weird conversation this had been.

“Thanks,” he added, a real, genuine smile coming slowly to his face. “Thanks for coming to talk to me. I…didn’t know anybody really cared.”

That said, he resumed his course, heading toward the spot he’d seen Marz and Jeremy bathing at. But even before he was halfway there, he saw the kid sitting on a large rock overhanging the pond with Rowan, the two deep in discussion, as if they’d been at it for some time.

Immediately, Tristan felt utterly and completely guilty. Corum had been absolutely right. What he’d walked in on had been Marz enjoying Jeremy’s constant attentions, because he’d been hurt by the one who could probably hurt him the most. But he’d come to his senses, just like Corum claimed he had, and had shooed Jeremy away. In fact, that’s probably what the kid was complaining about right now.

Feeling undeservedly lighthearted, Tristan altered his course and headed for the original camp. However, when he saw no one there put a few of the Jann and Saras the genie, lighting a fire, he paused again. But then he saw him. There, off in the distance, sitting under a tree with something moving in his lap. Probably that disgusting rat he always carried with him. But would Tristan say anything bad about it? No way, never in a million years. Because he was going to start being sensitive, that’s why.

“Hi,” he said, sitting down slowly beside him and flashing him a hesitant smile. Marz looked up from the ferret—no, it was a cat, actually. Whatever—he’d been petting and gave him a dark look. Tristan’s smile faltered, and he reached out and stole the hand stroking the cat, since the other one was feeding it a piece of cheese.

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” he said, holding Marz’s gaze steadily with his own. “About not wanting to touch you. I mean, I heard about the fleas, yeah, and I overreacted a little, maybe. But I didn’t really mean it.”

He pulled Marz’s hand to his chest and hugged it, closing his eyes and smiling ever so slightly. “I saw you with Jeremy, in the water. But it’s all my fault that it happened. I was cold and insensitive to you, and I…I let you run off without saying anything to you, and so…so it’s only natural that you…that you…let him…let him be with….”

He couldn’t finish. If Corum was right—and he knew he was, he just had to be—then he ought to say it. It was his fault, for not communicating, for not giving Marz the attention he deserved. But he still couldn’t say it because…because it hurt! Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to, but it hurt for some reason! He felt his eyes getting moist beneath his lids, so he opened them quickly before he could make an idiot out of himself.

“I know people say I like to be alone,” he mumbled, no longer able to stare directly in Marz’s eyes, for fear of losing control of his emotions. “But I don’t. Not really. I hate being alone. The truth is…the truth is that I just like being with you.”

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