The Book of Firsts

Forty-Nine

The trip with the Nichols made me miss my parents. Every Nichols family joke, minor squabble, or simple discussion over whether to take a break at the next rest stop were a constant reminder of similar trips, and brought home the fact that I had stopped in this one place, and my parents would keep moving.

I don’t often feel lonely, but the last few days of the week-long break made me reconsider my accommodation options for next year. Perhaps the dormitories or a share house might bring more benefits than annoyances. It wasn’t something I could arrange until after the exam results, so that remained the priority. Winning a place at Helios U meant I’d be starting a new school with pre-existing friends. A novel experience.

The atmosphere at Corascur was definitely shifting now that winter was almost over. There was a Sports Carnival and a concert sometime this half-term, but then the serious business of the final consolidation of years of study, followed by an exam prep break. I had been wondering how the Three Kings planned to help me de-stress during exam week, given the challenges would run out well before then, but decided it wasn’t worth raising at this point. I had, as I’d expected, reached the point of shying away from the inevitable end to this game. But I’d learned years ago to properly enjoy the things I liked while I had them, rather than focusing on departure dates and goodbyes, and refused to spoil my own fun.

All that avoidance left me unsure which of the three I’d most like to see, but when I reached the top of the wall on Tuesday and spotted Bran sunning himself on the picnic table, I found I was pleased. Even though the challenge wasn’t one of my favourites, I was always happy to spend time kissing Bran.

"How was China?" I asked, plumping myself onto one of the table benches and smiling at him.

"Near to overwhelming," he said, turning his head to look at me, and then back up at the sky. "Smoggy. Brilliant food. Too much to see. We didn’t even get out of Shanghai."

"Did Rin get his guitar?"

"Rin added two guitars, a thing called a pipa, and a variety of bamboo flutes to his collection. And a massive wind chime, taller than he is, which produces superbly low notes, and is destined for the new office rear courtyard."

"The dance studio place? Did you manage to buy it?"

He shrugged minutely. "Our offer’s been accepted, and we’ve exchanged contracts. Settlement date’s in a few weeks, and then we can start renovations."

"Is that the fun part, or tedious?"

"Probably both. We expect to have this place for at least a decade, and we’ve been dream-designing it for about the same amount of time, but the fine details of home renovation could go die in a fire so far as I’m concerned. I’m in charge of the tech spec, and Rin will take care of the rest. He likes that sort of thing."

Propping my chin on a fist, I gazed down at Bran’s face. Despite his tendency to bask in the sun, his skin remained improbably clear and white. Meggan’s frustration and ultimation had come about because Bran’s life plans were focused on best friends, not girlfriend. Would it have worked out if she’d decided to adapt to semi-permanent housemates, or would they always be getting in the way of each other’s relationships?

"Do you think you three will live together even after you get married?"

"Haven’t thought that far ahead. But that’s part of the advantage of an office with living space—even if you have a home outside, the shared building has purpose. We can overnight there when needed. For now, it’s walking distance to the university, and close to the tram line, so it’ll be convenient for both study and employees coming to the office."

"You have employees?"

"Part-timer at the moment. When we ramp up to Echoes, we’ll need larger premises to cope with the numbers, but next year we’ll only take on a staff of five to ten, depending on how quickly our development on One Step More progresses. We’ll start hiring after we’ve settled in at Helios U, and have some estimation of how much of our energy we’re going to have to reserve for our course load."

"Are you planning on multiple degrees as well?"

"Bachelor of Computer Engineering and Bachelor of Computer Science. I haven’t decided whether to go on to a PhD after that."

"Helios doesn’t offer degrees specifically focused on game design?"

"It’s not a pre-eminent university for it, but their offering isn’t bad. We’ll probably pick up some electives, but we’ll probably get more out of the internships we’ve arranged than we would out of a degree. I want to polish my software engineering skills, since one of my goals is my own game engine."

"We might be in a few classes together," I said, thinking about how awkward that could be if this particular game ended badly. "Some of the maths and physics."

"Possibly. I’m skipping the intro levels. If you do take more C++, you might come across Kyou or Rin. I’ve taken them through the basics, but they want to get a better understanding, even if it’s not their primary role." A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth and he turned his head just enough so he could look at me again. "I hear you’ve a talent for languages."

I laughed. "That was so much fun. Turns out I love French poetry."

"Or hoisting Kyou on his own petard." Bran snorted, but then added: "When the rest of us are all decrepit, he’ll still have that voice. Before puberty hit, he used to be this squeaky-voiced wisp, but then he suddenly shot up and started talking as if every word was buttered."

"While everyone around him started melting."

"People who are easily moved, at any rate," he said, dismissively, but then reached out a hand to me. "Come over here."

"Do you think I’m easily moved?" I asked, relocating to straddle his lower abdomen.

"Only so much as the wind is easily moved," he said. "I’ll be away next week, so you’ll have to rely on Rin and Kyou to move you."

"An extra holiday?" I asked, surprised.

"Surgery." He gestured vaguely at his throat. "Polyps."

"New ones?"

"Same ones, just larger. Impacts my breathing when I’m lying like this."

So naturally he chose to sprawl out on the picnic table to properly appreciate shortness of breath. Bran, I suspected, was feeling Complicated, and not quite able to hide it.

"Is there any risk?"

"Surgery always has some risk. Since I’m not concerned about losing my singing voice, the major one is a bad reaction to anaesthetic. And losing my patience with the recommendation not to talk for a week afterwards."

"What was your voice like, before you wrecked it?" I asked, keeping my own very level. "Speaking, I mean. Rin showed me you singing."

"No butter involved. Don’t go expecting you’ll get a second Kyou."

I tilted my head a fraction. "How are you at French poetry?"

He croaked out a few lines of Mignonne, allons voir si la rose, prompting me to roll my eyes.

"Yes, all roses fade. But will reminding me of my mortality win you this challenge?"

That brought out a crooked smile. "Well, we haven’t fully explored your tastes. Take off your top, Cheshire."

"Checking me for signs of deterioration?" I said, but shrugged off my pullover and tunic and dropped them on the bench.

"You’ll probably age quite well," he said, judiciously. "What does your mother—no, your grandmother—look like?"

My backpack was on the far end of the bench seat, and I had to lean back almost flat to grab it.

"Yoga is a bonus," Bran observed, after I straightened.

I pulled out my phone and found a family album, showing him my mother.

"Looks just like you."

"This is my paternal grandmother," I said, changing the picture. "I can’t show you pictures of my maternal grandmother, since she threw my mother out of the house for getting pregnant in high school." I adjusted my position slightly. "Teens, so horny, so careless."

"No wonder your mother looks so young. But this isn’t the 1800s—a little teen pregnancy isn’t that big of a deal. And no reconciliation after twenty years?"

"Because of my dad. This dirt-poor bi college kid who was always front and centre at every rights march, and whose only career plan involved writing frantically until something sold. It worked out for my parents in the end, but my mother’s family made everything a lot harder, so Mum has no interest in reconciling. Not that my maternal grandparents have ever tried to reach out or anything." I shrugged. "There are few perfect families. Will yours be waiting to see if your voice is worth something after the surgery?"

He laughed, a rough sound full of scorn. "They don’t know I’m going in. But, no, they’ve also moved on from the idea of me being the key to the circles they care about. That’s what my brother’s for."

"Your parents don’t know you’re having surgery?" I stared at him. "They’ll get a shock if the hospital needs to call next of kin."

"They would. But Kyou and Rin have Power of Attorney, and will be the ones getting any calls."

For a moment I was truly speechless. "When you three decide to start a company together, you really commit."

"We don’t want any of them making decisions for us."

I’d responded lightly, but struggled to hide my shock. While I was regretting moving away from my family, Rin, Bran and Kyou could not wait to escape from theirs. Bran I could understand, since his parents seemed to have pressured him to the point of breaking down, but what had Rin and Kyou’s done beyond regarding art and music as hobbies rather than careers? Of course, if my parents treated my bridges as a hobby, I’d want to cut them out of my decision-making as well.

"This is a very depressing conversation," I said. "How about we either play Tyranny, or you take off your clothes and try to make me not laugh at wheelbarrow?"

I knew which one he’d choose because I was sitting in the ideal spot to be sure where his thoughts had strayed. Rather than take his own clothes off, he sat up and plucked my bra free, tossing it aside so that it ended up dangling from the ivy covering the nearest wall. Then he ate my breasts thoroughly, followed by the rest of me, stripping my tights and pants off and sucking me until I could barely take it anymore.

Then, wearing a mildly triumphant expression, he picked me up and transferred me to the grass, leaving most of his own clothes on while giving me a thoroughly emphatic rendition of butterfly.

"Okay, I didn’t laugh," I said, a long time later. "I might need to cry mercy, though."

"Do that in game," he said, helping me up. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure."

Since the day was still quite warm, I walked around to the outside tap to wash up while Bran went into the summer house. Then I regretted the decision, since the water was two steps from ice. I collected my scattered clothing, wrapped myself in a towel followed by a blanket, and curled on the couch. We drank, and played Tyranny, and Bran seemed to be in a far less dour mood than before, stroking my arm between games, and occasionally nuzzling my throat. When it was time to go, he sat watching me dress, smiling lightly. But an alert from his phone made him frown. He glanced at the screen, and put it down again.

"We managed to get Tomas' phone," he told me. "There was nothing we could use to prove his involvement, but we can track him now, which will help for any future attempts. Take extra care, and let us know if you see him around you."

"Okay," I said, though with the private caveat that this meant more than the occasional glimpse that was usual for people in the same year.

Putting on my backpack, I looked at him, frowning just a little myself. Then I bent down and very lightly kissed him.

"Take extra care yourself," I said, very seriously, and left.