Flying Lorises {a modern day leviathan fic}

part xix

written by maddie, beta read by cat

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Vaguely he is aware that the ground is cold, that the sounds around him are loud, and that his friend is leaning over him. Mostly, though, he is aware that his head is throbbing enormously. Alek tries to sit up, putting a hand to his head but it falls back to the pavement.

The face above him is blurry, but he can make out sharp features and a mop of blonde hair. Next to it, another blonde-headed person.

No, not person. That’s a dog, isn’t it? Yes, it must be. No one has hair all over their entire head. 

What is its name again? Some sort of food; no, drink.

“Hello, Meat-Tea,” Alek slurs. “Dylan is right, that is a cruel name. Sorry, Meat-Tea.”

“What?” The blonde head(the human one) swims in his vision. “Alek, are you alright?” 

Alek can barely hear him. He’s too busy looking at the strobe lights around the stadium. Whoa. Where is he? Loud noise, kind of catchy. Must be music. Some concert, maybe. Whose? His eyes cross again and he struggles to focus them. 

“Alek!” Somebody’s calling him and he concentrates on his friend, who’s shaking his shoulders roughly. “You’re loopy. Focus! You know who I am, right?” 

Yes, he believes he does. “’Course,” he tries to yell, but his voice is hoarse and it cracks. “Mr. Dylan Sharp, that’s who you are.” Alek does a fake salute and chuckles crazily. 

The boy’s eyes widen and he looks at Alek like he’s a foreign creature. “You’ve hit your head, you daftie!” he shouts. “Dylan doesn’t exist!” He raises his head, looking around like he’s searching around for help. No one pays them any attention, though, all eyes are glued to the band. They must be really good.

“Yes, you do.” Alek’s words are garbled up. “That’s you, dummkopf.” He smiles goofily and pokes his face, but Dylan grabs his hand and forces him to meet his eyes. 

“Alek.” His friend’s tone is forcedly desperate. “Look at me. Really look at me!”

He does, and as his sight returns with lucidity, the happy buzz fades, giving away to frightful clarity. Dylan is gone, replaced by Deryn Sharp. That’s all there really ever was. “Yes,” he says, soft enough that Deryn has to read his lips to understand. His head, swimming, rests on the pavement. “I see it now.”

Deryn’s breath lets out, relieved. “Good.”

“Don’t lie to me again,” says Alek suddenly, and loudly. 

“What?”

“You heard me! You can’t ever lie to me again. Promise me. Deryn.” His breathing is irregular, waiting for her response. He can’t see her face, so his eyes close; he doesn’t want to know what he’ll see if he does. 

“You know what this means, right?” she says, her voice is closer to his ear that he thought. “No secrets?”

“No secrets.”

After a pause, she speaks again. “Aye. I promise.”

Alek closes his eyes and relaxes, assured by the promise of an honest friendship. Then he feels the unmistakable softness of lips pressing onto his mouth, trembling fervently with nervousness and feverishness and something else he can’t think about because Deryn Sharp is kissing him right now and by the gods it feels good. Hands on his face, rough skin against smooth skin. 

Deryn pulls back and looks away, and he could try to pass the redness of her cheeks off as a result of the crowd around them but that’s not it, and they both know it. He has to remind himself where he is and what’s going on and what his name is. He sits up abruptly. 

“Well,” Alek says, and Bovril barks. 

“Well,” Deryn says, rubbing his golden fur awkwardly.

Out of the three of them, it’s hard to believe the dog is the only one in his right mind.