bambi eyes || tradley

9. the past is a maze

Tristan locked his fingers around the shorter boy's wrist and dragged him towards the direction of the staircase, the frustratingly long journey back to the light barely visible to the two boys. He wondered what Bambi had found so fascinating in his basement. Sure, there were many unknown things hidden inside of it that'd probably catch the curly-haired boy's attention, but his curiosity still scratched at him nonetheless. Even though he most likely was attracted to something shiny or colourful, which would make a lot of sense, hence the glass the boy somehow managed to break.

As they finally made their way out of the basement, the light-haired man slammed the door close and sighed of relief. He slowly turned to the brown-eyed boy, scrunching his face up in disgust as he casually sucked the crimson fluid lightly flowing from a small cut on his finger. The item tightly held in his left hand didn't fail to catch his attention either. It was a small and shiny photo album that Tristan wasn't surprised caught Bambi's attention, but he'd never seen it before. Not that Tristan actually went into the basement, which would probably explain why, but either way, it confused him why he'd never seen it.

"Hey," Tristan softly said, like he was attempting to lure a child away from their favourite toy, "can I see that?"

"This?" Bambi asked of the photo album as he looked down at the pale line across the pad of his index finger. The man nodded, causing him to freely hand it over. "I found it!" he proudly said. "It's silver! See?"

"Mm-hmm," the blond hummed. He stared at the silver cover reading: Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart. Tristan furrowed his brows at the quote and flipped the book open to a newborn baby photo. A baby picture he'd never seen before.

"Is that you?" the small boy asked, his curls blocking Tristan's view as he took in the photograph.

"I think so, yeah." He couldn't peel his eyes away from it. The more he took in the features, the more he believed it was himself. Tristan wondered why he had never seen this before. As far as he'd ever known, there was only one photo of himself as a child, and it was in his suitcase. He wasn't that young, anyway. At least, not as young as the newborn photo he was looking at.

Bambi giggled. "You have a big head, Tris."

Tristan rolled his eyes, but there was still a ghost of a smile on his face. Turning to the next page, he scanned his eyes over the six little photographs stored inside. A gasp left his mouth at a woman he'd never seen before holding him in her arms.

"I think that's my real mum," Tristan quietly assumed. She was looking at the baby, like he was the world, causing the twenty-one-year-old to wonder what had ever happened to his biological parents. He was never given an explanation in his life why he was given up for adoption, or why they were no longer able to take care of him. When he was little he'd create scenarios in his head why he wasn't living with his biological family anymore, and sometimes he found himself as a twenty-one-year-old man falling asleep to making up more. But as he became older and more aware of the world, the scenarios became harsher, like they just didn't think he was worth it. But looking at this photo, he wasn't sure.

"Your real mum?" the boy questioned. "So, your mum here is an impostor?"

"No, she's not an impostor." Tristan chuckled at the assumption. "She's more real than my biological mum. My foster mum is here with me whenever I want her to be. I can hug her when I want, and I can talk to her when I want. Sometimes I feel like my biological parents are just a figment of my imagination. I don't know, but I don't like to think about my real parents. My mum and dad are either dead, or they're jerks."

"Oh," Bambi replied, nodding understandingly, "I am sorry, Tris. Everything will be all right. I do not know my mum and dad at all and I don't have fake parents to substitute, but I turned out just fine, don't you think?"

The blond watched the shorter boy with his intriguingly innocent eyes that evidently weren't even aware of the reason of his existence, and he smiled to himself. "Yeah," he said, "something like that."

They both plopped down on the couch while Bambi excitedly choked down a bowl of strawberry and cream trifle, watching a mesmerised Tristan flip through the many newborn photos slid into the page flaps of the baby book. He wondered why his parents never informed him that they had his baby photo album, or at least knew of its existence. He couldn't believe he'd went his whole life oblivious to the sight of his mum and how he looked as a child.

A frown captured his excited features as he sadly flipped to the ending page. It was just another photo of baby Tristan, but this time he had on a little birthday hat as he happily inspected a skinny slice of cake with a number one candle pushed into the center. The twenty-one-year-old smiled to himself and carefully eased the photo out of the flap with two fingers, turning it over to the back to read the neat handwriting on it in black marker: August 15, 1995 // TRISTAN - 1 YEARS OLD.

The twenty-one-year-old smiled widely before it gradually fell into a confused frown at the tiny, red print written on the bottom in different handwriting reading: Blackery Waters. Turning the photograph back to one-year-old him, his confusion increased at the setting of the photo. It wasn't taken anywhere near a water. Nonetheless, the title sounded oddly familiar.

"That sounds rather strange," the curly-haired boy commented. Tristan glanced over towards Bambi slowly pushing two strawberries into his mouth. He licked the cream off his fingers before speaking again: "Have you ever heard of a Blackery Waters?"

"No... At least, I don't think so."

"It's probably a place. We should search it up and visit it," Bambi suggested with a shrug. He extended his arm out to Tristan, showcasing his empty bowl. "I want more, please."

"You ate it all," he informed him, causing the boy to pout and sadly set his bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch. Tristan slowly lifted his mug from the table and let out a sigh as he sipped his steaming raspberry tea. "And anyway, tomorrow probably isn't a good time."

"What is wrong with tomorrow?"

"I have to visit my doctor." Tristan rolled his eyes at the realisation. He could've easily made the choice whether he wanted to visit the doctor or not, but he'd only agreed to it to make his parents feel better, and to prove to them he's definitely not going insane.

"Doctor," the brown-eyed boy snarled in a very Bambi way. "I do not like doctors."

The blond furrowed his brows before setting his mug down and slowly turning towards the small boy. "What do you remember about doctors, Bambi?"

"Check-ups," he slowly replied. He stared hard at the mug in Tristan's hand, like he was trying his best to concentrate. Suddenly an incomprehensible expression flashed over his face and he brought his hands to his head. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Tris."

"Hey," Tristan softly said, carefully pulling his hands away from his face, "it's all right. We're going to figure all of this out together, okay?"

Bambi reluctantly locked eyes with the blond and slowly nodded. "Okay."

Tristan smiled brightly, wondering if it were strange that he was holding the brown-eyed boy's hand, and he also wondered if it were strange that he didn't bother making a move to let it go.