FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS | CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JIMMY STOOD IN THE MIDDLE in the middle of Vulpesterra, almost perfectly centered in the kingdom, though maybe a few feet too far from it. He didn't notice Atticus at first, simply waiting and looking around the town square with interest; he waved to a few people who greeted him, a pleased confusion in his movements that only turned confident when he finally saw Atticus approaching.
He flashed Atticus that familiar smile that left Atticus breathless; for a moment, Atticus was sure he was dreaming. The sunlight gave Jimmy a glow that Atticus was sure shouldn't be possible, and the smile that graced his lips was too perfect to be real. Atticus would have even pinched himself, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming, if he didn't want to take himself out of this moment.
Atticus was sourly reminded that this meeting between them would be too short for his liking when Jimmy spared a glance at the watch around his wrist. As far as he knew, Jimmy and Pix were in the final stages of securing an alliance. As proud of Jimmy as he was, Atticus had been hoping to spend more time with him; they hadn't seen much of each other since revealing their names, after all.
"Codfather," Atticus greeted, making use of the alias in public. Jimmy's brows furrowed for a moment before he realized, quickly nodding in greeting. "I was thinking we could stop by Gary's on your way out. I'm sure he'd love to know you're a loyal customer." Jimmy chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement; Atticus took that as a yes.
"I wish I could stay longer," Jimmy admitted, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "I don't know why Pix couldn't finalize this in one meeting."
Atticus shrugged. "He's probably trying to record every moment for his books," he theorized. "But hopefully the paperwork will be signed today. Then you shouldn't need to travel to him every few weeks." He smiled up at Jimmy, who quickly grinned back. "Congratulations on the alliance, by the way."
"It wouldn't have happened without you," Jimmy said. Atticus shook his head, but Jimmy nodded insistently. "We both know the others have looked at me with more respect since you offered an alliance. As nice as Pix is to me, he never would have thought about an alliance without you proposing one in front of everyone."
Atticus knew it, too, but he didn't want to be the one to say it. Thankfully, Jimmy looked pleased about the fact, so Atticus shrugged. "I guess we'll never know," he said lightly. He tilted his head in the direction of Pixandria, signaling that they should begin their walk to the edge of the kingdom. Jimmy took the hint, quickly falling into step with Atticus as they walked in that direction.
"I wonder if Pix will show up for the masquerade," Jimmy spoke. "He didn't seem interested when Katherine announced it, but he might show up just to keep the peace."
Atticus hummed. "I'll speak with Lady Niki and see if she's fitted him. I can't imagine Katherine would be too upset if he didn't show up, though. We all know that he made his kingdom away from everyone else for a reason." Jimmy chuckled, nodding in agreement.
Upon mentioning Lady Niki, Atticus remembered his conversation with Scott and his promise—if you could call it that—to speak with Jimmy about being fitted for the masquerade. He didn't want to let Scott down, and he's unintentionally created a good opening for asking. And if he only had Jimmy for less than an hour, he supposed now was as good a time as any
"I believe Lady Niki is the main tailor the other rulers have chosen," he commented, sparing a glance at Jimmy. Jimmy's brows were furrowed; Atticus took his confusion to be as to why Atticus knew that. "I've asked for her, of course, and I know Scott and Katherine have. She's grown quite a name for herself among the nobility." Atticus paused his walk, turning to face Jimmy; the taller stopped as well, expression turning to one of realization. "Jimmy—"
"Don't," Jimmy sighed. Atticus blinked in surprise at the interruption. "Scott has already given me the whole spiel. Lady Niki is lovely, but I don't need to be fitted."
Atticus frowned. "I think Scott is right," he told him. Jimmy sighed again, looking away. "It could be nice to wear something new, especially to one of Lady Katherine's parties."
Jimmy shook his head, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. "I'm fine with what I have," he said, more sternly than before. He turned away from Atticus, as though he wanted to walk away but found himself stuck in place. Atticus was beginning to realize that he'd dodged a bullet, so he did the only thing that made sense to him—went right back to standing in front of the gun.
"Is it a money issue?" he finally asked, not sure why else Jimmy would be so insistent about not being fitted. "I can pay for her services, Codfather, if you—"
"Just leave me alone about it, will you?" Jimmy finally snapped, spinning around so fast that Atticus was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "I don't need your handouts, you've given me enough already! And I don't need to be fitted, I'm perfectly fine with what I own, so stay out of it!" His skin, normally quite pale, was flushed red—with anger or embarrassment, Atticus didn't know. He did know that he had caused the emotion; guilt prickled along his skin.
"Okay," Atticus said gently, not sure what else he could say to fix this; to go back in time to seeing Jimmy in the square only ten minutes ago. If he could get a do-over for this moment, he would, damn the consequences of the timeline. He would do anything to tell his past self to shut up and smile instead of pushing a topic he had no reason to prod at.
Jimmy's expression faltered, a twist of devastation that Atticus didn't understand overtaking his features. Jimmy had no reason to feel sorry about shouting at him—Atticus had pushed too far. It was something he was good at, annoying the people he cared about; it was only a matter of time before it happened with Jimmy, too.
Atticus didn't know what else to say. He didn't get much of a chance to think about it before Jimmy was pushing past him, hurrying away before Atticus could find his voice. Atticus watched him leave, keeping his eyes on Jimmy until he couldn't anymore. He felt like he was the one stuck in place now, watching something fall apart and being unable to stop the pieces from cracking.
There were eyes on him, now. Citizens that had heard the fight—argument. Because that's all it was. It wasn't the end of the world, even as Atticus felt like throwing up. His chest felt tight, much like it had when he was younger, and wore compressions to soothe his anxiety; the people staring at him didn't help the feeling, so after making sure he truly couldn't see Jimmy anymore, Atticus turned and headed back toward the castle.
Atticus waited to feel anger toward Jimmy; he waited for the awful feeling of shame mixed with resentment to build, to make him never want to see Jimmy again. But it never came, because Atticus wasn't angry with Jimmy. He couldn't even bring himself to feel annoyance at being snapped at the way he had been. He knew damn well that he had pushed too far from the beginning; Jimmy had made his stance clear, and Atticus had kept trying to move him.
Besides, Atticus had a feeling Jimmy felt enough anger toward himself for Atticus to even try to.
As soon as he was in his room, giving only a quick hello to Jane on his way in, he sat at his desk, determined to draft a letter of apology. If he could get ahead of his own feelings and send it out before nightfall, he might be able to win Jimmy's favor once more.
It was hard to concentrate on writing the longer Atticus was surrounded by silence. By this point, he and Jimmy should have been approaching the road to Pixandria together; instead, Atticus had ruined things because he didn't know when to stop pushing.
Atticus ran a hand over his face, glancing out the window toward the Cod Empire. With so much space between them already, he supposed it wouldn't be a bad idea to tell Jimmy that he would leave him alone for a while. He specified that this was until Jimmy wanted to talk again, allowing Jimmy to be the one to reach out first—even if that wasn't for a good while.
After several minutes of finalizing the letter, Atticus decided to sign it with his real name, a sign of trust that he was sure he would regret later.
When Atticus sent out the letter, it was finally noon, and his hand hurt from rewriting his apology so many times. The pain didn't compare to the anxiety he felt over the possibility of losing Jimmy's friendship, though he logically knew he would be forgiven.
It was a bump in the road, not a stop sign. Sometimes people just needed some space.