Tales of Vesperia, "Future Tense"
As children, they had always known that for Yuri's birthday, he would want to go to the bridge. And for Flynn's birthday, he would want to go to a certain field...
Written for areyougame@DW, to the prompt Yuri/Flynn: familiarity - can read you like a book.
Contains fluff and angst wrapped into one friendshippy bundle with more than a bit of UST.
.future tense.
Something like a birthday didn't mean all that much to lower quarter orphans. Boys who lived off the charity of others could not afford a party, or presents, or even a slice of cake when that same amount of gald could buy enough bread to last them for days.
Yet even children with such meager means were eager to celebrate whenever they had the excuse, in whatever way they could, and for Yuri and Flynn, they had agreed upon a simple pleasure: the pleasure of deciding where they would play for the day. Two small and opinionated boys would often bicker over where to play, and technicalities of who decided yesterday and who likes what better; that tiny thing gave first Yuri, and then Flynn three months later, something to look forward to each year, a day that felt like it belonged to them.
Yuri had usually chosen a low bridge that ran over a street towards the edge of the citizens quarter, a rarely-traveled area where only a child could be short enough to stand fully underneath it. It was just a shadowy alcove where water trickled down from the gutters and interesting animals sometimes turned up, and there were just enough corners to make for fun games.
And when he turned twenty-two, somewhere trawling through long-deserted valleys in Yurzorea, he had thought to himself, Happy birthday, me, and, I wonder if Flynn went to that old spot under the bridge. And then he grinned to imagine the mighty commandant of the imperial knights huddling in a too-small overhang under a bridge.
Flynn's special spot was a small stable just outside of Zaphias. It was run by a wealthy merchant of the citizens quarter, one of a very few in the city who didn't chase away two bedraggled lower quarter boys whenever he saw them lurking at the edges of his property, and whenever Flynn had his way they tumbled and tussled on the fringes of his land and played outdoor games, knights and brigands or guildsmen at war. When they were tired, panting for breath and worn out from the sun, they would lean between the slats in the fence and stare wistfully at the quiettas that grazed at pasture, whispering, Someday, when we're knights, we'll have mounts like those.
Even at play, Flynn had always been dreaming about the future, and Yuri had been more interested in finding different kinds of frogs.
Yuri rested his forearms on the top of the fence, leaning over to look at the monsters. They were still as fine as he remembered them being, as well-bred and as healthy. The knights really did buy stock from this merchant; he wondered if the man ever thought about those two bedraggled boys.
He heard the footsteps behind him, the soft crunching of the grass, and said without looking up, "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered," Flynn said, with some amusement. Yuri could hear, unspoken in his tone, the addendum, It's my birthday, after all, and grinned to himself in response. "I'm more surprised that you actually came."
Yuri lifted his eyebrows. "You thought I'd be that heartless, huh?"
"Let's just say that you were always a little more interested in your birthday than mine," Flynn said with a laugh.
"That's a fine way to talk about your oldest friend," Yuri said, straightening and tossing his hair back over his shoulder. "Like I'm some sort of villain always out to further my own greedy ends..."
"That's not what I said, Yuri."
Despite the harassment, it felt like things were easy again. Natural. They were two friends hanging out together, sharing a laugh just outside of Zaphias in the fields where they used to play, just like old times. Yuri hadn't felt this comfortable, this -- content in the months, years since he'd left the knights.
They had never stopped talking, but when Yuri had walked away from the knights, he had walked away from Flynn. He had chosen to sacrifice their dream, in Flynn's eyes, and for ages thereafter their friendship had been in a strange place. It existed in limbo, never quite defined, impossible to tell whether they were at peace or falling apart.
But at some point in the last several months, things had fixed themselves, and Yuri had gotten his best friend back.
"I didn't bring you a gift," Yuri said airily. "So sorry. I'm sure your fancy friends at all the other parties you've been to today gave you enough loot to make up for it, though, right?"
Flynn stepped up beside him, a rueful smile on his lips, and leaned against the fence with him. "Three parties," he admitted. "One at the palace with His Majesty the Emperor, one at the barracks with my old brigade, and another one at the lower quarter with Hanks."
Yuri snorted a laugh, darting a sidelong glance at the blond. "You're the belle of the ball these days, Commandant," he drawled.
"You said you didn't get me a gift," Flynn returned, his voice laced with amusement. "But look at all this lovely sarcasm you've given me."
It was difficult to keep himself from laughing; instead Yuri ducked his head, hiding his smile, and looked up again when the urge had passed. It was still strange, only a few weeks after the whole incident, to look up at the sky and see only endless blue. There were no distorted tendrils stretching across the horizon; no hazy violet glow tainting the clouds; and, perhaps most strangely of all, no rings of ethereal white blastia barrier, shielding the city from the outside world.
The wind ran through his hair, combing it out and dragging it back, letting the cool breeze stir the back of his neck. Comfortable was a good word for it.
"I was surprised to hear from Mina that you're still living in that tiny room above the inn," Flynn said.
Yuri glanced back at him, frowned slightly. "What's wrong with that tiny room?" he asked.
He must've sounded more defensive than he'd thought, because Flynn's eyes went a bit wide, and he said, more mildly, "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant that -- I was surprised. With everything that's happened, I thought you'd want to be with your guild. Maybe find a place in Dahngrest... You like it there, don't you?"
Maybe he sounded defensive because the line of questioning was irritating him, for whatever reason. Yuri flipped a hand at him, dismissing it out of hand. "It's a nice enough place," he said. "I can respect a town made of people who decided they weren't going to live under anyone else's thumb."
Flynn's features shifted, souring but subtly, that saint's expression still somehow on his fair face. He always managed to make Yuri feel like some sort of evil spirit wearing away at his calm surface, just creating an endless series of trials, one right after the other.
"I know your opinions about the Empire, Yuri. That's why I thought you would like it there."
Yuri made a noise in his throat and straightened up, pulling away from the fence. "But that's why I've got to stay here," he continued reasonably. "Take care of Hanks and the others who aren't able to look after themselves. I don't want them getting walked all over by some entitled noble."
"And you don't trust me to do it...?" The stiffness was slowly turning into amusement.
He said, "You're only one man," and shrugged.
Flynn turned his head up, watching the clouds drifting over the field. "You know... I've read that even when offered the opportunity, and given incentive, the majority of people stay near the place where they grew up."
"Is that so?" Yuri put a hand on his hip, following Flynn's gaze to the white shapes that they used to watch go by and murmur wistfully beneath. Rita and Karol and the others had talked about it more than once; how much they preferred their hometown, of all the places they'd been. He'd never really thought twice about agreeing. "...sounds about right to me."
He didn't even have to look at Flynn to know that he was smiling again, faint and sentimental and warm. He could hear it in the blond's voice. "Will it really be okay? You living so far from them."
"Ba'ul can come pick me up anytime there's a job. I can be in Dahngrest in hours." He shrugged, and challenged in return, "What about you? You're still living in that pathetic room in the castle, aren't you?"
"Pathetic? It's three times the size of your room!" Flynn protested.
"Pretty meager accommodations for a Commandant. Don't you deserve something fancier?"
There was a silence. Flynn flexed his fingers, for once unencumbered by the weight of plate armor. Without his gauntlets, his hands looked small and his fingers chapped. Carrying around all that armor for years had given him a slightly more solid frame than Yuri, but without it he seemed smaller and frailer than Yuri remembered, as if the polished silver plates were a defense mechanism that made him seem bigger, stronger, more authoritative than he really was.
Then he said, "I could get a house, I suppose. But they'd expect me to live in the royal quarter."
The idea turned Yuri's stomach, and he barely kept his lips from twisting, pulling back from his teeth with emphatic distaste. All that kept him from doing so was Flynn's tone, contained and carefully neutral in a way that spoke almost as effectively about how little he wanted to be there.
Which was reassuring, in a way; settled his irritation; and clicked the last piece into place. That was why the question about Dahngrest had rubbed him the wrong way. Flynn had the same uncertainty about him that Yuri had about him.
His best friend lived in a castle, surrounded by nobles, attending the Emperor, and commanding hundreds -- thousands -- of knights. The Emperor himself had thrown him a fabulous birthday party, where he'd probably been lavished with gifts and sipped at extravagant wines and danced with eligible debutantes. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, it was rare to see those fleeting traces of the lower quarter boy who didn't have the time of day to give to the glorious aristocracy that lived so finely above them; and despite knowing Flynn as well as he did, there was always the nagging doubt in the back of his mind that Flynn was going to change (or would be changed) and become someone he hated.
And Flynn had been wondering, too, Is Yuri still that person I remember? Or will he change now?
Stupid doubts like that. Things they never should have questioned. They knew each other better than they knew anyone else alive.
Yuri said, easily, "But maybe next year we should make some new plans. I don't know about you, but I don't think squatting under that bridge in the citizens' quarter is gonna cut it the next time my birthday comes around."
That surprised Flynn for a beat, but he recovered quickly, even smirking. "Is that so? Look who has fancy taste now."
"You could say my tastes have changed, I guess."
"Then what would the fine sir prefer to do on his twenty-third birthday?"
Yuri thought about it, but only for a heartbeat, and then felt a grin stretch across his face. He knew what he wanted to do. "I heard the expedition that went over to Weccea after we scouted it encountered a giant monster that slaughtered half the team before the rest could escape. Your men described it as being like a huuuge Blade Beak, but way stronger."
That made Flynn burst out into laughter, light and airy and ringing in the clear sky. He even leaned against the fence with one hand. "Are you serious? For your birthday you want to hunt a giganto monster?"
"You bet I do." It'd be a good fight. The two of them alone would probably make it a real challenge, too, but he'd trust no one at his back more than Flynn. Though of course Repede would go with them -- and Judy, Yuri thought; she'd be so disappointed not to be invited -- so he'd have to give the matter some consideration.
Flynn was still laughing. Yuri eyed him, amused. "You in?" he prodded.
When he was able to stand again without the support of the fence, Flynn looked up and tossed him a smile, brilliant and pure and genuinely happy. His eyes were as clear as the blue sky above them. "--I'll go wherever you like, Yuri," he promised.
It almost hurt to look at him. Yuri pulled his gaze away, feeling winded by that smile.
Damn, Flynn. Tone it down a little.
He was so easy to read. He always had been, but long familiarity and deep personal investment had made his emotions even more transparent. So it hadn't exactly been hard for Yuri to figure out how Flynn felt about him. It was written all over his face.
But someday, Flynn was going to meet a nice debutante at some fabulous party, and this -- this self-destructive thing that he thought he felt for someone who was no good for him, and not really good for anyone -- would be long forgotten. He'd have a new best friend, a new love he wanted to spend his days with, a new person he wanted to change the world to please.
She'd better be good enough for him. Yuri wasn't going to let Flynn settle for anything less than the best.
"Think about where you want to play for your birthday," Yuri said, tossing him just a quick smile, in case he was still wearing that look, and then starting to move away. Sensing that the meeting was about to end, Repede got up from where he'd been resting on a low flat rock, shook himself off, and started to drift into Yuri's wake.
"Yuri!"
He paused, but didn't look back.
Flynn hesitated, just a heartbeat, and then asked, "--Do you want to race?"
They stole (in Yuri's terms; borrowed, in Flynn's) two of the quiettas and raced until they couldn't see the city anymore.
Written for areyougame@DW, to the prompt Yuri/Flynn: familiarity - can read you like a book.
Contains fluff and angst wrapped into one friendshippy bundle with more than a bit of UST.
.future tense.
Something like a birthday didn't mean all that much to lower quarter orphans. Boys who lived off the charity of others could not afford a party, or presents, or even a slice of cake when that same amount of gald could buy enough bread to last them for days.
Yet even children with such meager means were eager to celebrate whenever they had the excuse, in whatever way they could, and for Yuri and Flynn, they had agreed upon a simple pleasure: the pleasure of deciding where they would play for the day. Two small and opinionated boys would often bicker over where to play, and technicalities of who decided yesterday and who likes what better; that tiny thing gave first Yuri, and then Flynn three months later, something to look forward to each year, a day that felt like it belonged to them.
Yuri had usually chosen a low bridge that ran over a street towards the edge of the citizens quarter, a rarely-traveled area where only a child could be short enough to stand fully underneath it. It was just a shadowy alcove where water trickled down from the gutters and interesting animals sometimes turned up, and there were just enough corners to make for fun games.
And when he turned twenty-two, somewhere trawling through long-deserted valleys in Yurzorea, he had thought to himself, Happy birthday, me, and, I wonder if Flynn went to that old spot under the bridge. And then he grinned to imagine the mighty commandant of the imperial knights huddling in a too-small overhang under a bridge.
Flynn's special spot was a small stable just outside of Zaphias. It was run by a wealthy merchant of the citizens quarter, one of a very few in the city who didn't chase away two bedraggled lower quarter boys whenever he saw them lurking at the edges of his property, and whenever Flynn had his way they tumbled and tussled on the fringes of his land and played outdoor games, knights and brigands or guildsmen at war. When they were tired, panting for breath and worn out from the sun, they would lean between the slats in the fence and stare wistfully at the quiettas that grazed at pasture, whispering, Someday, when we're knights, we'll have mounts like those.
Even at play, Flynn had always been dreaming about the future, and Yuri had been more interested in finding different kinds of frogs.
Yuri rested his forearms on the top of the fence, leaning over to look at the monsters. They were still as fine as he remembered them being, as well-bred and as healthy. The knights really did buy stock from this merchant; he wondered if the man ever thought about those two bedraggled boys.
He heard the footsteps behind him, the soft crunching of the grass, and said without looking up, "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered," Flynn said, with some amusement. Yuri could hear, unspoken in his tone, the addendum, It's my birthday, after all, and grinned to himself in response. "I'm more surprised that you actually came."
Yuri lifted his eyebrows. "You thought I'd be that heartless, huh?"
"Let's just say that you were always a little more interested in your birthday than mine," Flynn said with a laugh.
"That's a fine way to talk about your oldest friend," Yuri said, straightening and tossing his hair back over his shoulder. "Like I'm some sort of villain always out to further my own greedy ends..."
"That's not what I said, Yuri."
Despite the harassment, it felt like things were easy again. Natural. They were two friends hanging out together, sharing a laugh just outside of Zaphias in the fields where they used to play, just like old times. Yuri hadn't felt this comfortable, this -- content in the months, years since he'd left the knights.
They had never stopped talking, but when Yuri had walked away from the knights, he had walked away from Flynn. He had chosen to sacrifice their dream, in Flynn's eyes, and for ages thereafter their friendship had been in a strange place. It existed in limbo, never quite defined, impossible to tell whether they were at peace or falling apart.
But at some point in the last several months, things had fixed themselves, and Yuri had gotten his best friend back.
"I didn't bring you a gift," Yuri said airily. "So sorry. I'm sure your fancy friends at all the other parties you've been to today gave you enough loot to make up for it, though, right?"
Flynn stepped up beside him, a rueful smile on his lips, and leaned against the fence with him. "Three parties," he admitted. "One at the palace with His Majesty the Emperor, one at the barracks with my old brigade, and another one at the lower quarter with Hanks."
Yuri snorted a laugh, darting a sidelong glance at the blond. "You're the belle of the ball these days, Commandant," he drawled.
"You said you didn't get me a gift," Flynn returned, his voice laced with amusement. "But look at all this lovely sarcasm you've given me."
It was difficult to keep himself from laughing; instead Yuri ducked his head, hiding his smile, and looked up again when the urge had passed. It was still strange, only a few weeks after the whole incident, to look up at the sky and see only endless blue. There were no distorted tendrils stretching across the horizon; no hazy violet glow tainting the clouds; and, perhaps most strangely of all, no rings of ethereal white blastia barrier, shielding the city from the outside world.
The wind ran through his hair, combing it out and dragging it back, letting the cool breeze stir the back of his neck. Comfortable was a good word for it.
"I was surprised to hear from Mina that you're still living in that tiny room above the inn," Flynn said.
Yuri glanced back at him, frowned slightly. "What's wrong with that tiny room?" he asked.
He must've sounded more defensive than he'd thought, because Flynn's eyes went a bit wide, and he said, more mildly, "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant that -- I was surprised. With everything that's happened, I thought you'd want to be with your guild. Maybe find a place in Dahngrest... You like it there, don't you?"
Maybe he sounded defensive because the line of questioning was irritating him, for whatever reason. Yuri flipped a hand at him, dismissing it out of hand. "It's a nice enough place," he said. "I can respect a town made of people who decided they weren't going to live under anyone else's thumb."
Flynn's features shifted, souring but subtly, that saint's expression still somehow on his fair face. He always managed to make Yuri feel like some sort of evil spirit wearing away at his calm surface, just creating an endless series of trials, one right after the other.
"I know your opinions about the Empire, Yuri. That's why I thought you would like it there."
Yuri made a noise in his throat and straightened up, pulling away from the fence. "But that's why I've got to stay here," he continued reasonably. "Take care of Hanks and the others who aren't able to look after themselves. I don't want them getting walked all over by some entitled noble."
"And you don't trust me to do it...?" The stiffness was slowly turning into amusement.
He said, "You're only one man," and shrugged.
Flynn turned his head up, watching the clouds drifting over the field. "You know... I've read that even when offered the opportunity, and given incentive, the majority of people stay near the place where they grew up."
"Is that so?" Yuri put a hand on his hip, following Flynn's gaze to the white shapes that they used to watch go by and murmur wistfully beneath. Rita and Karol and the others had talked about it more than once; how much they preferred their hometown, of all the places they'd been. He'd never really thought twice about agreeing. "...sounds about right to me."
He didn't even have to look at Flynn to know that he was smiling again, faint and sentimental and warm. He could hear it in the blond's voice. "Will it really be okay? You living so far from them."
"Ba'ul can come pick me up anytime there's a job. I can be in Dahngrest in hours." He shrugged, and challenged in return, "What about you? You're still living in that pathetic room in the castle, aren't you?"
"Pathetic? It's three times the size of your room!" Flynn protested.
"Pretty meager accommodations for a Commandant. Don't you deserve something fancier?"
There was a silence. Flynn flexed his fingers, for once unencumbered by the weight of plate armor. Without his gauntlets, his hands looked small and his fingers chapped. Carrying around all that armor for years had given him a slightly more solid frame than Yuri, but without it he seemed smaller and frailer than Yuri remembered, as if the polished silver plates were a defense mechanism that made him seem bigger, stronger, more authoritative than he really was.
Then he said, "I could get a house, I suppose. But they'd expect me to live in the royal quarter."
The idea turned Yuri's stomach, and he barely kept his lips from twisting, pulling back from his teeth with emphatic distaste. All that kept him from doing so was Flynn's tone, contained and carefully neutral in a way that spoke almost as effectively about how little he wanted to be there.
Which was reassuring, in a way; settled his irritation; and clicked the last piece into place. That was why the question about Dahngrest had rubbed him the wrong way. Flynn had the same uncertainty about him that Yuri had about him.
His best friend lived in a castle, surrounded by nobles, attending the Emperor, and commanding hundreds -- thousands -- of knights. The Emperor himself had thrown him a fabulous birthday party, where he'd probably been lavished with gifts and sipped at extravagant wines and danced with eligible debutantes. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, it was rare to see those fleeting traces of the lower quarter boy who didn't have the time of day to give to the glorious aristocracy that lived so finely above them; and despite knowing Flynn as well as he did, there was always the nagging doubt in the back of his mind that Flynn was going to change (or would be changed) and become someone he hated.
And Flynn had been wondering, too, Is Yuri still that person I remember? Or will he change now?
Stupid doubts like that. Things they never should have questioned. They knew each other better than they knew anyone else alive.
Yuri said, easily, "But maybe next year we should make some new plans. I don't know about you, but I don't think squatting under that bridge in the citizens' quarter is gonna cut it the next time my birthday comes around."
That surprised Flynn for a beat, but he recovered quickly, even smirking. "Is that so? Look who has fancy taste now."
"You could say my tastes have changed, I guess."
"Then what would the fine sir prefer to do on his twenty-third birthday?"
Yuri thought about it, but only for a heartbeat, and then felt a grin stretch across his face. He knew what he wanted to do. "I heard the expedition that went over to Weccea after we scouted it encountered a giant monster that slaughtered half the team before the rest could escape. Your men described it as being like a huuuge Blade Beak, but way stronger."
That made Flynn burst out into laughter, light and airy and ringing in the clear sky. He even leaned against the fence with one hand. "Are you serious? For your birthday you want to hunt a giganto monster?"
"You bet I do." It'd be a good fight. The two of them alone would probably make it a real challenge, too, but he'd trust no one at his back more than Flynn. Though of course Repede would go with them -- and Judy, Yuri thought; she'd be so disappointed not to be invited -- so he'd have to give the matter some consideration.
Flynn was still laughing. Yuri eyed him, amused. "You in?" he prodded.
When he was able to stand again without the support of the fence, Flynn looked up and tossed him a smile, brilliant and pure and genuinely happy. His eyes were as clear as the blue sky above them. "--I'll go wherever you like, Yuri," he promised.
It almost hurt to look at him. Yuri pulled his gaze away, feeling winded by that smile.
Damn, Flynn. Tone it down a little.
He was so easy to read. He always had been, but long familiarity and deep personal investment had made his emotions even more transparent. So it hadn't exactly been hard for Yuri to figure out how Flynn felt about him. It was written all over his face.
But someday, Flynn was going to meet a nice debutante at some fabulous party, and this -- this self-destructive thing that he thought he felt for someone who was no good for him, and not really good for anyone -- would be long forgotten. He'd have a new best friend, a new love he wanted to spend his days with, a new person he wanted to change the world to please.
She'd better be good enough for him. Yuri wasn't going to let Flynn settle for anything less than the best.
"Think about where you want to play for your birthday," Yuri said, tossing him just a quick smile, in case he was still wearing that look, and then starting to move away. Sensing that the meeting was about to end, Repede got up from where he'd been resting on a low flat rock, shook himself off, and started to drift into Yuri's wake.
"Yuri!"
He paused, but didn't look back.
Flynn hesitated, just a heartbeat, and then asked, "--Do you want to race?"
They stole (in Yuri's terms; borrowed, in Flynn's) two of the quiettas and raced until they couldn't see the city anymore.