Archive of Our Own ^beta

“He’s upstairs, has been since yesterday at noon,” Wilma explained, clearly relieved. “We can’t thank you enough, sweetheart, this really means a lot to us.” 

Adaine smiled, readjusting the tote bag slung over her shoulder. It was heavy, filled with textbooks and papers she thought may come in handy. Though she had never tutored before, she decided this was a worthy endeavor. “It’s really no bother, Ms. Thistlespring. I’m happy to help!” Wilma started to cry, from worry or relief Adaine wasn’t sure, pushing her face deep into Digby’s shoulder. 

“She’s just worried about him,” Digby explained, patting his wife on the back comfortingly. “We don’t want him to get discouraged, y’know?” Adaine nodded. “You are such a blessing, kiddo. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.” Digby’s eyes started to water as well, which was Adaine’s trigger to give him a handshake and run upstairs. 

Gorgug’s room was one of two on the top level, but it was fairly obvious which was his. The doorframe had a dent in the top after nearly a decade of smacking his head into it, and the hinges were close to breaking from accidental slamming. She gave a light knock on the door. “Gorgug? It’s Adaine!”

There was a second of silence, then a quiet: “Door’s open.”

She cautiously walked in, immediately noting the complete disarray. Papers were strewn everywhere across the floor, with pencils and erasers and pens and markers thrown in every direction, seemingly at random. His drum kit was tucked into a corner, allowing for more floor space, and his far-too-small bed was leaning up against the wall, indicating that he either slept on the floor or got no sleep at all. As for Gorgug himself, he was propped up against the wall, his face pressed up against an open textbook. Only the soft rising and falling of his back indicated that he was even breathing. 

Adaine set her tote bag on a small, empty section of floor and gently closed the door behind her. Then, she sat down next to him as quietly as possible, as if he were some kind of rabid animal. “How are you doing?” she asked, already anticipating the answer.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he replied into his book, almost completely muffled. 

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday.”

“Drank water?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Ate?”

He held up a granola bar wrapper. “Two minutes ago.”

“Real food, Gorgug.”

He groaned and smacked his head against the textbook, which Adaine promptly confiscated, placing next to her. The cover of it read ‘ Putting the Art in Artificing - Making Your Creations Creative ’. “Did my parents call you?”

“Well, I called you first. We hadn’t heard from you for a bit, so I got worried,” Adaine told him, ensuring her voice was low and calm. Gorgug looked up at her, almost panicked, and immediately started sifting through the pockets of his jeans. 

“ Shit . I don’t know where my crystal is. Oh, fuck, people have been trying to call me?” He groaned again, leaning all the way back to hit his head against the wall. Adaine grabbed a pillow from his now-vertical bed and placed it behind him. “I’m in over my head. I should just quit.”

“Hey, no, none of that. Look, Gorgug, you’re one of the smartest guys I know,” she began, looking right at him. He took a second to meet her eyes, and Adaine finally saw just how exhausted he really was. There were thick bags under his eyes which accentuated the crows feet he picked up in the arcade, and his hair was wild, greasy, and frizzy, somehow all at once.

“…Really?”

“Yeah, really. You remember the Hangvan, right? You built that. I’ve seen you tinker before, Gorgug. I’ve been where you are, working myself to the bone for a grade above average, and it’s not fun.” She picked up a random paper from the ground, looking over the equations he had scribbled on it. “Look at that! I mean, you’re figuring out plane logistics here! That’s cool as hell!”

“You’re just saying that,” he decided, though he was smiling a bit. “I mean, I’m not you. Or Riz.”

“Riz is clever , and a fucking maniac. You’re a genius, Gorgug. There’s not just one type of smart. I’d like to see Riz do half the shit you’re doing here, I bet he wouldn’t be able to.” Adaine gave him a little punch on the shoulder. “You need to go easier on yourself.”

“Maybe, yeah.” He laughed, and it sounded like he needed to, kind of like it was trapped behind walls of flem. “It’s just… There’s been so much going on. Between Porter and Zelda and Bloodrush and the mysteries and the stress, I’ve had zero time for anything.” 

“You have us. You can always come to us, you know that, right?” 

“I don’t want to bother you.” He picked up a pencil and started to twirl it between his fingers. “You’ve all got your own stuff going on, and I figured the last thing you’d want to do is add more onto that. It’s my stuff, I thought… I thought I should be the one to shoulder it, you know? Besides, I’m the ‘strong’ one. That’s my thing. Maybe all this was just some dream.”

“That’s not true.” He started to talk, but she interrupted him to continue, hellbent on getting her point across. “And you’re so much more than just ‘strong’, Gorgug. You’re kind and caring and brave, and you keep level headed in situations where any normal person would freak the fuck out— For the most part, that is. Without you, we’re lost. You’re like… You’re the glue. You keep us together, right? So we’ll do whatever we can to help you, because we know you’d do the same for us.”

And then Gorgug, the greatest wizard of their generation, started to cry. 

He stayed staring out at the wall, trying to keep his face neutral, but after a few seconds tears were streaming down his face. At first, Adaine didn’t even realize what was happening because he was so quiet, but once she did, she placed an arm around his shoulders awkwardly. It was a place she never found herself in before, especially not with Gorgug. He finally turned to her and smiled. “Thank you, Adaine. I needed to hear that. A lot.”

“My pleasure. Now, what’s got you stressed about this?” She gestured to the papers and textbooks and pencils and markers, just kind of the general disarray of the room. 

Gorgug chuckled again. “Would it be okay if I said ‘all of it’?”

“Got it. I’m no Artificer, but I figured some concepts have to carry over from Wizardry, right?” She stood back up to grab her tote bag, noting the photo wall Gorgug had above his bed as she did. It was around fifteen different group photos of all the Bad Kids, dating all the way back to Freshman Year. She felt herself smiling, and took one of them after prom off the wall, turning it around to show him. “Do you think they knew what they were in for?”

“God, no,” Gorgug replied, grinning. “Better that way, right?”

“Right.”

She sat back down, and they spent the rest of the day working out all the equations and questions that were giving him trouble. Wilma and Digby brought them lunch, which Gorgug admitted was his first real meal in days, and which Adaine realized definitely beat the massive, lukewarm subs she was usually given by Lydia Barkrock (though she appreciated them). When Gorgug drove her home that night, she felt more relaxed than she had in months. Maybe it was the feeling you get when you help people, she decided. 

Or maybe she was being a normal teenager for the first time in what felt like forever. No bad guys, no world resting on her shoulders, just the ups and downs of high school. 

That night, she sent off a group message to the Bad Kids, shamelessly holding the photo she stole from Gorgug of them all after prom, covered in dragon guts, in her free hand. She looked at her young face for hours prior to the text, noting how happy she looked in that moment. It was as if she knew her place in the world, and she found it among these fucking losers. Her thumb moved from letter to letter, before finally hitting the send button.

Basraar’s tomorrow?

Bubbles of recognition, acknowledgment and excitement appeared almost immediately from all of them. Kristen’s message stood out the most to her:

YES?! How fucking long has it been, dude??

Just as she was about to go to bed, her crystal lit up one last time. It was a message from Gorgug, which contained a quick sketch he must have done after she left— A little music box, with a frog that dances in the middle when it spins. The title on top of the schematics read Adaine’s Gift; The Dancing Boggy. She smiled as she read the message of him excitedly explaining how he planned to build it, filled with mechanical terms she didn’t understand. Then, she felt tears welling up in her eyes as she read the final part of the message:

Thank you, Adaine. Really, thank you. If I’m the glue, you’re the compass— I keep us together, you show us where to go.