Second (History Plays, Book 1)

12: unto the forest

Edward

"I still have no idea how you move that fast," I say, as I lie on the bleachers in the fencing court, idly watching Teddy and Gaveston spar. It's a lazy Saturday. I'm done with hockey practice. Tomorrow morning, we have the hike team activity thing. We've tried to cry off that after the events of Thursday night. It didn't work. The good news is, while we may not have gained any friends, the entire school is now absolutely terrified of my boyfriend. So. That's a win, I suppose.
"We are going slow," Gaveston laughs, taking off his helmet. They're practicing Sabre, at Teddy's request. Coach is supervising us  from the weapons room, where he's fixing spare weapons and trying to find Gaveston a replacement pistol grip, as he's not gotten his sword back after the fight.
"I understood the others, not this," I say, shaking my head.
"Epee and Foil are much slower, it's all about scoring with just the tip," Gaveston says, "Sabre is completely different, it's much quicker, professional bouts go maybe four or five seconds each round, that's how quickly you accumulate points."
"Which is how good you are, obviously," I say, reseting my head on my current book.
"Not really," he laughs, coming to touch my face with his right hand, the only part of him free from the uniform. He has his helmet under one arm. They wear gloves on the sword hand, then the other hand is usually free, though some wear a glove on it as it is technically a target I think. I don't know? I just know sometimes they wear gloves and occasionally he'll get cuts on that hand he wears no glove on. Don't look at me like that I never said I was clever let alone about this.
"It's fun though, different, I don't think I'd switch though," Teddy says.
"Good, your talents are a waste on the speed of it, you're much more suited to the cleverness of Epee," Gaveston says.
"Is that why Mortimer is bad at Sabre?" Teddy asks.
"Mortimer is bad at Sabre because he's too emotional," Gaveston says.
"That's why he's bad at Epee."
"Well it's why he's bad at Sabre too, want to go again?"
"Sure!'
"I am all for you boys practicing additionally, but don't you have other places to be on a fine Saturday?" Coach asks, coming out carrying a couple of grips, "Here, try these."
"We aren't exactly popular on campus," I say.
"Yeah, which is bullshit, when it isn't our fault," Teddy says.
"Also, he hasn't slept since he got back," Gaveston says, pointing at me.
"I have to look after you both! I leave once— look what happens," I sigh, pathetically. "I happen to feel more comfortable when surrounded by weapons Gaveston knows full well how to use."
"Neither, my fingers are too long," Gaveston hands back the grips, "You sure you can't get mine?"
"Yeah, they won't give it back, some bullshit about it being evidence, fuck it, I'm just gonna order you a new one," he says, going back to put them away.
"That's ridiculous, nobody is pressing charges," I sigh. Nobody is pressing charges because then their sons might be implicated in the crime they were committing, breaking into the room and kidnapping people.
"It's a ridiculous world," Gaveston says, "Go again?"
"Yes!" Teddy bounces, happily. They're fencing with Gaveston's spare sabres, but in regular uniforms since they don't need the score kept and they don't have a wired set that fits Teddy.  I'm meant to be keeping score.
I'm not doing that very well, though, it's hard to see their blades and I'm not smart. Nor am I good with numbers and adding things and remembering numbers.
"Maybe—? I have no idea, you move way too fast," I sigh.
"No, a hit, a very palpable hit," Teddy says, tapping his arm as they walk back to their ends of the lane.
"You've got him quoting classics at me now?" Gaveston laughs, then they advance on each other again. As usual, I don't see his blade flick in for a point.
"You're being gentle aren't you?" I ask. I've seen Gaveston's bruises from this sport, fine black lines on his left arm and chest.
"Yes, I only get bruised by Mortimer because he doesn't like losing," Gaveston assures me, "You don't need to worry about me. I'm not fragile."
"Yet my heart is," I say, quietly.

Gaveston

Edward's melancholy all evening, we eat with the girls then retreat to our dorm to play cards and act like a storm isn't brewing. We're all well aware Kent won't take this lying down. We just don't know what he'll do.
Edward tugs me to his bed wordlessly, just burying his face in my back and kissing my shoulder blade quickly. I don't deny him, happy to be locked in his warm arms. We've never spent the night like this, yet I'll hardly question it. Teddy reads, we curl up together in perfect silence. Eventually we all drift off, Edward wrapping me in his arms, his face in my hair, my face in his neck inhaling the smell of him, peaceful and warm underneath the blankets. He doesn't even kiss me, just holds me. Like he's terrified one day I'll be jerked from his arms like I was from my bed that night. Everyone is perplexed at his protectiveness, they all know I won, and well. Clare and Mannix, who know how he truly feels, don't understand why he should fear for me.
I do. I know what he thinks. I always have. I know his thoughts like I know my own. He's not afraid that I can fight. He's terrified of the fight that one day I will not win. And he now knows I will die fighting. I'm a fighter. A warrior. And he knew it, but he wanted to pretend that when the fight I couldn't win came, I would run. Now he knows that that's not true. I don't run. I fight. And one day I will lose. And I'll be stolen from him again. And he can't bear that.
I can't either. But I think we both know he'll survive and I won't. Me, I'll be lucky to make it to senior year. He's enough of a survivor to know when to run. Or he wouldn't have lived this long. In the dark, I kiss him. The lines of scars on his arm, his throat. He quivers, tense and taught at my touch. Then I kiss his mouth, nose, cheeks, lips, eyes. And in the weight of my love he finally sleeps. I hold him. We have no words because I can't promise I won't leave him. He knows I probably will. This world wasn't made for quiet boys who like to kiss other boys. It was made for boys of steel, that it dearly loves to break. And we'll no sooner change our fates than re arrange the stars.
Morning comes at an ungodly hour. We collectively forgot that hike thing was at dawn.
So, when the sun is just coming up, all who signed up, which is half the school, are sleepily assembled on the Dover house lawn, in hiking attire. My only consolation is that the faculty don't want to do this either. Father Thomas shows up ten minutes late still looking barely awake with the dog leaning on his legs. Coach Marlowe shows up fifteen minutes late carrying two 24 oz cups of coffee, wearing a t-shirt that reads 'sorry I'm late. I didn't want to come'. He's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy and drinking from the coffees intermittently.
Mr. Ambrose is disappointed we all don't care about his historical hike thing he planned that relates to a historical thing. He's so sad Teddy asks questions and listens to why it's historical. Nobody else does. We stare around evaluating our life choices.
"You all will have partners—yes you may choose your own," so tiredly, when Edward and I cling to each other's shirts.
"Well?" Izzy asks Edward, "Are you going to hike with me?"
"No, you can go wherever you like seeing as I have Gaveston," clinging to me possessively.
"Do you want to hike with me?" She asks Mortimer, who was trying to take Coach's cigarettes as he couldn't stop him with the coffee in his hands.
"Um—yes," he says, literally shaking with fear and surprise.
"All right, let's begin, you've found your partners—,"
I don't honestly know how long he expects us to follow him.
"Want to go make out someplace?" I ask Edward.
"God, yes," he says, as we and every other group slip off in opposite directions into the woods.
"What were we supposed to do with this?" Edward asks, looking at a map they gave us.
"Don't know or care."
"You know? Me either."