Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non
"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for ( Read more... )
Miliband Minor - and it’s not bad to think of Ed in those terms, it’s just for the purposes of distinguishing between Eds - is staring back at David, adoring. It’s unnerving, Andy’s always thought, the way Ed looks up to David so completely. The things his own Ed has told him, from their days together at the treasury, left him uncertain as to whether he should laugh or cry, the misplaced devotion they revealed.
He wonders if Ed Miliband would be so impressed if he knew what David was really up to. If he’d so ardently defend his brother’s inability to act like a diplomat, and the way he’s so proud to be a champagne socialist, spending money like water.
Miliband told him once, under the influence of a single pint of lager, that David could do anything, and that he was the perfect brother. Ed had stood behind him, making retching motions, and when Andy couldn’t keep a straight face, Miliband had frowned at him, confused, and said,
“But he really is, Andy.”
Diane is meeting them there, so it’s only Ed they’re waiting for. He saunters in just when Andy’s almost given up on seeing him before they get started. Ed snags some toast, and butter and jam, and when David glances over, he grins pointedly and picks up a banana.
Ed looks over to him at that, his eyes asking ‘hey, see what I just did?’ but Andy doesn’t smile. In fact he doesn’t even acknowledge it. He stares down at his cereal instead, and his copy of the Mirror, and fumes silently, wishing that Ed didn’t have so much power over him.
Because he isn’t just angry, the way he was back when his girlfriend at university cheated on him. And he isn’t just humiliated, though that’s certainly a big part of it. He’s hurt. It’s tearing him up inside; he hasn’t slept, can’t eat, doesn’t want to do anything but find a corner and start sobbing.
He’d known he was in deep, before last night, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. It had made it easier, to think that he wasn’t really an adulterer. He and Ed were just scratching a mutual itch - a bit of tomfoolery between friends - and there wasn’t anything more to it. This morning, with his chest aching, he can see that he had been an idiot, for ever allowing himself to believe that.
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“Are you alright, mate? You’ve got a face longer than a list of Gove’s cock ups.”
All he hears in that sentence is the Education Secretary and genitalia and his stomach squirms, because maybe it’s not even just him and David. It makes him feel pathetic, that, because he’s thinking about it like some lovesick school girl, his mind caught up on ‘but I thought that what we had was special’.
The day passes in a blur - the speeches themselves, and the packing, and then piling onto a train, destined for London. Ed sits next to him, uninvited, and Andy knows he’s acting like a pillock but his eyes are burning and he doesn’t want to speak to him any more than is necessary so he buries his head in a book, and pretends that he's busy.
Ed tries the softly softly approach. Then calls him an ignorant wanker and storms off to the other carriage. He returns twenty minutes later, when Andy's bitten his lip raw, with a stubborn set to his chin, but a polystyrene cup of tea in one hand, and a muffin in the other, by way of a peace offering.
“It’s obviously something I’ve done,” Ed says, dropping back into the seat beside him. “So why don’t we just bypass all the silent treatment bollocks, and get to the part where you just tell me.”
Half of him wants to snort in laughter, so he accepts the tea though he doesn’t drink it, just stares at it as it gets cool, and grows a skin across the top of it.
“You could have just told me,” he says eventually, in the most reasoned tone he’s capable of. “I understand that you didn’t have a duty to. It’s - it’s just that we’re friends.” He closes his eyes, pinches at the bridge of his nose, because being reasonable has taken it out of him. “At least, that’s what I thought we were.”
When he looks up again Ed is staring at him, brow furrowed.
“Andy, what the fuck are you talking about?”
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*(im)patiently waiting for next part*
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I loveee it <3
All he hears in that sentence is the Education Secretary and genitalia - I laughed out loud |D
Can't wait for more!
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