Chapter Text
For all that Caleb’s life revolves around cars, he’s really starting to hate private cars. He’s ushered into the third row with Verin after they make sure Essek’s buckled into a seat in the middle row. Essek stopped mumbling while they were carrying-dragging-helping him, so Caleb’s pretty certain he’s asleep.
Is it weird if he wants to quickly check if Essek’s still breathing? That’s weird right. It’s a little weird. Definitely not something that’s covered by Race Engineering for Dummies. Next to Essek, Dr. Thelyss is occupied with her phone, the soft glow of her screen providing the light that Caleb needs to confirm Essek’s chest is rising and falling.
He settles back in his seat and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes until he sees dancing spots behind his eyelids. This entire night was a bad idea from start to finish. If he’d had the guts to draw a line between yesterday when Essek had first asked (no, the little voice in his head says, it was more a demand than a request), he wouldn’t be going to the Thelyss home on a random Wednesday night.
Oh, shit. He’s not going to be at his apartment.
Caleb digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his text thread with Veth. While it had been on mute for the event, Veth had nothing short of spammed him with messages asking of his whereabouts and if he needed an escape plan.
[TO VETH BRENATTO, 10:07] I am alive and ok. Please feed Frumpkin for me. Home late tonight.
His phone dies as soon as her typing bubbles pop up. At least his cat will be well taken care of in case something happens.
Essek is dangerously still for a few heartbeats and Caleb tries to work out the logistics of car CPR when Essek coughs and turns his head in the other direction, asleep again.
Hell. Caleb wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. He’d probably be less nervous if he was actually being kidnapped.
Verin gets a quick call from Nizana with whom he shares a few syrupy sweet words and a promise to meet for lunch tomorrow. Caleb can hear her tinny responses from the other end, and from Verin’s unfallen smile, he surmises that their relationship is more serious than Essek had made it sound.
Or maybe Verin is just like that. It wouldn’t be proper etiquette for Caleb to type Verin Thelyss dating history into a search engine, and it would definitely be worse etiquette for him to replace Verin with Essek.
Must suck that the brothers had their entire lives documented by strangers, but it sure does make Caleb’s job easier. Everything from Essek’s first go-karting experience to first significant other is plastered all over the internet. It’s telling how little information there is about him during the years he was absent from racing; Essek is more than capable of becoming a ghost and disappearing if he wants to. Anything that’s available is because he wants it to be, a carefully curated image for the world.
There were photographers and reporters, though limited to a select few that he assumes are under Kryn Industries' control, that certainly captured most, if not all, of Essek’s speech. Caleb has no idea if the Kryns will give the okay to release anything regarding that. On one hand, Essek’s speech was highly anticipated, and on the other, he came incredibly close to ruining the company’s reputation along with his own. It’s more likely to hurt Essek than it is a multi-billion dollar company.
Worrying about someone else to this degree takes time and generally a greater intimacy or shared affection than what he has with Essek. He worries about Veth and Beauregard a healthy amount because they are his closest friends and have been with him during his worst days. It’s a reciprocated concern. He fears that whatever he feels for Essek is visible only to himself. If only he’s seeing it, then it’s a fabric of his imagination, and he should be able to write it off.
He still finds himself waiting for movement indicating breathing from Essek at regular intervals.
The car pulls into a long driveway leading to a house that can’t possibly be called just a house but Caleb struggles to find the vocabulary to describe the architecture in front of him. When he was very young, his mom would spend hours upon hours simply reading to him, and in many books there would be a character that lived in a home so grand that it would be the main setting for the story. They would get lost in the house, open a wardrobe that leads to another world entirely, or find a hidden door to secrets buried deep for centuries. He finds it difficult to imagine Essek running around playing hide-and-seek here.
Everyone piles out once the car stops, Essek held up with his arms around Caleb’s and Verin’s shoulders. Dr. Thelyss opens the front door and lets the three of them in first.
“I’ll go put Essek to bed,” says Verin.
Caleb ducks out from Essek’s other arm and Verin takes his full weight with a quiet grunt. Verin takes a moment to jostle Essek awake enough to help on the way up the curved double staircase. Caleb averts his gaze and focuses instead on what he’s supposed to do now.
Dr. Thelyss shrugs out of her jacket, draping it over one arm. “I’ll show you to a guest bedroom.”
Caleb tries to not gawk as he’s led up one of the marble staircases and down a seemingly never ending hallway. He half expects talking portraits of every member of the Thelyss family lining the walls, but it’s surprisingly empty. Dr. Thelyss stops in front of a heavy wooden door and opens it to reveal a room bigger than his entire apartment with a canopy bed and a door opening to an en suite.
“Necessities are in the bathroom cabinet, feel free to use whatever. If anything’s missing let me know. Spare clothes are in the dresser. Come downstairs when you’re settled.” She rests a hand on his shoulder for a brief moment and gives him a warm smile before leaving him on his own.
He closes the door behind himself and cautiously explores the room. Off in one corner is a large desk with a fine layer of dust. The room hasn’t been used in quite some time, but it’s been kept in great condition. He pulls back the curtain over the window and looks out into an expansive courtyard under the moonlight. Beautiful, sure, but eerie just like the rest of the estate.
Caleb rummages through the dresser and finds the promised extra clothes. Unfortunately, it’s all Essek Thelyss merch. He sighs and blindly grabs a set and pretends that the ET66 emblazoned on the front and the THELYSS 66 on the back of the shirt that he tugs on is completely normal. Here’s the thing: he spends almost every weekend in team colors. Is it so bad to not want to wear something with Essek’s name and number on it when he’s off work?
Verin’s standing by the door fiddling with his phone when Caleb steps out, and Caleb wastes no time in trying to peek over his shoulder. “Nizana?”
Verin startles, dropping his phone in the process. “No,” he says. Definitely a better actor than a liar. He pockets his phone and crosses his arms. “Nice shirt.”
“The suit would be difficult to sleep in.” He tugs on the shirt and shrugs.
“Merch with his name on it is better than a suit he bought?” Verin’s eyebrows do a ridiculous dance, hammering home his baseless insinuation. “Let’s go. Ma’s waiting with tea.”
Caleb’s assumption of the house being a maze was correct. He’s scarily good at keeping track of directions, but the hallways and doors and stairs test his limits. Verin motions for Caleb to step into a lit room somewhere on the first floor and he does so with an abundance of caution.
This is by far the most lived in area of the house he’s seen so far. A comfortable arrangement of couches facing each other takes up the floor alongside end tables with perfectly circular water stains. One wall is a ceiling to floor bookshelf filled with an arrangement of trophies and picture frames separated by well loved children’s books. All the trophies are for menial achievements, a collection of participation awards and friendly gestures. It’s sweet, he supposes, to show off unremarkable awards given to two people who are anything but mundane. A frame obviously decorated by a child—colorful little trinkets and Scrabble letters spelling out ESS-K—displays a picture of a grinning boy with a missing front tooth engulfed in a purple and black driving suit.
There’s very few photos of Ryltar, but this isn’t the best night to point that out.
“That’s from his sixth birthday,” says Dr. Thelyss from behind him. “He and his friends pretended to be Formula One drivers, and since it was Ryltar’s first year in F1, of course Essek put on his gear.”
“The missing E?”
“He needed an E to make a bingo while playing Scrabble a few years ago. The argument it causes during the holidays when Verin found out… unbelievable.” She laughs, shaking her head, and takes a seat in the armchair.
“Not my fault he’s a liar and a cheat!” Verin pouts his way onto the couch, sprawling across the cushions.
It’s obvious that there’s unsaid assigned seating here, which means Caleb awkwardly shuffles to the loveseat, pauses on one end to gauge Verin’s response, and sits when there’s a lack of innuendo in his expression.
The coffee table in front of him has a kettle of hot water, three mismatched mugs, and a large box with various teas and hot chocolate mixes. Dr. Thelyss pours herself a generous amount of water over a chamomile tea bag, while Verin helps himself to two packets of hot chocolate with the freeze-dried marshmallows. Caleb hesitates, he’s a coffee person through and through.
“Try the mint one.” Dr. Thelyss sets her mug down and pours the last of the kettle into a mug that’s shaped like a cat, the tail forming the handle and the ears in the perfect position to poke someone’s eyes out. Adorable but highly dangerous, as most cats he’s met.
He dips the suggested tea bag into the water and lets it steep.
“My son likes you.”
If he’d been holding his mug, he would surely have third degree burns on his thighs by now. As it is, he simply stares wide-eyed at her while Verin snickers loudly. “Excuse me?”
She shrugs, takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t understand what I said that was so shocking. He very rarely makes real friends, and he certainly doesn’t have many that he’d invite to this particular event, yet he put great effort into bringing you. Thus, Essek likes you.”
“We spend a lot of time together at work,” Caleb rationalizes. “I sure hope he likes me.”
“That’s exactly what I am telling you, dear.”
Verin watches the exchange like a tennis match and Caleb has to kill the urge to throw Scrabble letters at him with deadly accuracy.
To save himself from having to continue on with this conversation, he drinks the tea, careful of the ceramic ears pointed directly at his eyes. It’s pleasant, making him feel alert and calm, lifting the tension from his shoulders.
“Good, isn’t it?” Dr. Thelyss asks. “It’s Essek’s favorite too.”
“Of course it is.”
Dr. Thelyss smiles and Caleb dies a little. “I wanted to thank you for looking after him.”
“You asked me to.”
“Not only today.” She stares contemplatively into the distance. “You do it every time he’s in that stupid metal death trap. Guiding him isn’t an easy task, trust me, I did it for eighteen years.”
He wonders if her concern of the high risk sport was always present or if it was agitated by her husband’s death. Caleb remembers watching the 2014 Bazzoxan Grand Prix on Eadwulf’s laptop in Astrid’s room and the stunned silence that followed. The crash shook them to their cores, and they still woke up the next morning and got into their karts without question.
“It’s quite literally my job, and I am happy to do it.” Caleb holds the mug in both hands to warm his palms. “I should confess, now that we are talking, that I do have more experience in this career than I let on earlier. I just didn’t think I would ever be back.”
Dr. Thelyss hums. “There was a while where I thought Essek wouldn’t be racing again either. He seemed more determined to win after Ryltar’s death and went on to prove it, but things started going downhill later. Has he told you what he did during his extended break?”
“No, not yet.” This subject is one that he hasn’t had the guts to broach, though it has kept him up late on more than one night, diving into gossip columns and forums that have tried and mostly failed to figure out what exactly Essek was doing. He’s found himself about to comment on inactive threads, preaching about how inappropriate it is to pry, and had a sudden realization that what he’s doing is no better. “I’m more concerned about what he does on the grid rather than off it.”
“You were quite concerned tonight.”
“He was digging a hole for himself, and Verin was signaling me to go help.”
“And you did!” Verin chimes in. “Because you were concerned!”
Caleb bristles. In retrospect, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten along with a sibling if this is what they’re all like. “I’m sorry, Dr. Thelyss,” he says with a strained smile, “what’s the purpose of this?”
“I wanted to get a better understanding of who my son was spending time with, that’s all.” Her expression is one of relaxation and surety. “He’s a grown man, but he is still my family. Anyone who he befriends is also part of this family.”
“Oh. I see.” Caleb always knew that Dr. Thelyss had an impressive presence, but this was nothing like he expected. She’s confident and often speaks in partial riddles that lead her conversation partners exactly where she wants them. It’s admirable, really. “Well, uh, thank you again for letting me stay the night.”
“It’s not a problem. And don’t feel bad about using the kitchen in the morning.” She places her empty mug on the coffee table. “I’ll clean up, you two head to bed.”
—
He wakes up in a cold sweat two hours into sleep. The mattress is very soft and much bigger than he’s used to when he typically sleeps unmoving on his back. He pulls off the long sleeve shirt and is glad that it’s too dark to see Essek’s name stare back at him when he tosses it onto the floor. He’s found it easier to fall asleep next to other people, but being alone in a room of an unfamiliar house is nothing short of terrifying. Very briefly, he’s traitorously reminded that Essek Thelyss is sound asleep a few rooms over.
Caleb turns onto his side and pulls the sheet up over his head.
—
“I’ll bring Essek breakfast,” Caleb says.
It shouldn’t be a controversial sentence, but the height that Verin’s eyebrows reach suggest otherwise. Dr. Thelyss is much kinder and agrees, helping him put together a tray to bring up to Essek’s room. He ignores any lingering stares from Verin and appreciates the chastising Verin receives from Dr. Thelyss as he turns the corner and leaves.
He knocks on the door he was directed to and it creaks open, the room dark and still.
“Keep the lights off.” Essek’s voice is thick with sleep.
Caleb does his best not to get too imaginative with that as he steps in, closing the door behind him and finding his way to the bed guided by the slim column of sunlight pouring in from between the curtains.
“Good morning.” He sets the tray on the nightstand and picks up the aspirin and water from it. “This should help.”
“Caleb?” There’s a rummaging from the tangle of pillows and blankets, and Essek’s head pops up. He’s bleary eyed and grimacing and still in last night’s lace shirt and dress pants from what Caleb can tell. “I thought I dreamed you.”
Well. Caleb doesn’t know what to do with that so he ignores it completely, pushing the glass and painkillers towards Essek, who takes it without question. Essek moves backwards and pats the spot beside him.
“Sit. We should talk.”
“You should eat,” Caleb counters, but perches on the edge of the bed. “I have done a lot of talking with you and your family in the past twenty hours.”
Essek must have gotten up a little earlier because he smells like toothpaste and the collar of his shirt looks damp, but he’s groggy and his hair is in a silk headwrap and he’s very, very kissable in this dimly lit room.
Caleb should go. He brought Essek food and completed his task and has no reason to stay longer but Essek’s vast brown eyes stare at him with a sort of curiosity that Caleb can never pinpoint, freezing him in place.
“I’ll eat if you agree to talk.”
Caleb nods and places the tray on the mattress. Essek carefully shuffles towards it and smears one slice of toast with butter, the other with strawberry jam, and sticks them together.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asks, affronted.
“Eating.” Essek bites into the crust and chews, swallowing before he speaks again. “What does it look like?”
“Like you’re committing a crime.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never had a butter-and-jam toast sandwich?”
“You’re mixing them!”
“It’s a good balance of salty and sweet.” Essek holds the abomination out to him. “Take a bite.”
“You’re insane.”
“Do you trust me or not?”
“I find myself not trusting you more often than not recently,” Caleb jokes. He leans forward to take a small bite of the sandwich and wrinkles his nose as he processes. “Yeah. It’s not for me.”
Essek shrugs. “Your loss.”
“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”
Essek nods and points to where his phone is plugged in, covering his mouth as he says “go ahead,” between bites.
Caleb pulls Essek’s phone off the charger.
“Are you wearing my merch?” Essek asks as Caleb is turned around to plug his own phone in. He feels warmth through his shirt, Essek’s fingers tracing the name and number on his back, and his heart stutters against his ribcage. The warmth leaves and Caleb straightens up, facing him again.
“Not that different from race weekends.”
“Well this makes you look like a fan.” Essek takes a sip of the orange juice. “Are you?”
“A fan of yours? Never,” Caleb deadpans.
“You’re right, a fan wouldn’t do what you did last night.”
Caleb exhales and fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. “I won’t apologize for stopping you.”
“And I don’t want an apology, because I’m not sorry either. I made a conscious decision to go off-script from the speech that Leylas approved.”
“Why did you do that?”
It’s rare that Essek looks uncomfortable, and this is definitely one of those times. He’s not making eye contact and is taking long pauses between sentences. “I’m tired of playing second fiddle. They’re pushing VaSuun the same way they pushed Ryltar. After so much literal sweat, blood, and tears I’ve put into this, it feels like a slap in the face. This is all I have, Caleb. Those years I wasn’t racing, I was lost. I’m fine with losing as long as I know I have done my best.”
“You are doing your best.”
“I can’t accept that,” Essek says after a long while. “I need this win.”
Caleb reaches across the tray and squeezes Essek’s forearm. “You will win. I promise.”
“Thank you.” Essek finally looks at him, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. “I have something to give you, actually.” He slides off the bed and takes the tray with him, placing it on the night stand again as he goes to his dresser, bringing back a medium black velvet box that he hands to Caleb.
Caleb holds it gingerly, like it’ll grow teeth and attack him if he makes the wrong move. Essek flips a light on, stands beside where Caleb’s sitting, and nudges his shoulder. “Open it.”
He slowly opens the box and his jaw drops. A small amber pendant necklace is on display. Caleb shifts it to make the gem catch the light and it glimmers back at him. The gem is set in gold and attached to a chain of the same metal. “I thought I lost this months ago.” He runs a finger over the amber and stills. It’s the same amber, but with a new setting and chain. Caleb looks over his shoulder to find Essek watching raptly.
Essek rubs his jaw. “I found the pendant on the floor in the driver’s room the day of the Ank’harel GP. I hope you don’t mind that I had this done. It’s by the same jeweler that did my amethyst necklace in a similar style.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I wish you would have told me that you had it all this time. It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Essek agrees. “You touch where it used to rest when you talk about your parents.”
“Yeah. The amber was my mom’s.”
“She had good taste.”
Caleb removes the necklace from the box and holds it delicately in his palm. “Could you help me put this on?”
Essek takes the necklace from him slowly. “Move your hair out of the way.” Caleb obliges, ducking his head to quickly tie his hair back in a ponytail. Essek passes the chain in front of his throat and clasps it closed in under a couple seconds. The brief touch against the back of his neck does not linger, but he feels the fathom touch for minutes afterward.
Caleb brushes his finger against the amber resting on his chest and feels like he’s able to breathe again for the first time in months. If his mom is watching him, he hopes she’ll forgive him for the time that’s passed without this connection, even if she won’t forgive him for everything else.
“You’re a good person,” Caleb says as he stands up. “I should get going. I need to feed my cat and I’m already late for work.
Essek takes a few steps back so Caleb doesn’t bump into him. “We can go together.”
“Drivers can afford to be late, their teams cannot.” Caleb unplugs his phone. “I’ll see you there.”
“At least let me call you a car.”
“You and your family have done enough for me and I appreciate it endlessly. I can do this one thing.”
Essek sighs, resigned. “Strategy meeting today?”
“We’ll never get to it if you won’t let me leave.”
Essek laughs and raises one hand in a weak wave. “Bye, Caleb Widogast.”
—
In the rideshare back to his apartment, Caleb goes through his notifications. There’s quite a few from Veth, which he expected. He double taps to like a picture of a disgruntled Frumpkin that she sent last night and types out a reply to assure her that he’s still alive and did not fall down a well. Her response comes lighting quick, and he sends her a quick selfie as proof of his state.
The other messages are from a sender he rarely texts, both of them favoring calls or face-to-face meet ups.
[FROM BEAUREGARD, 6:36] img1848.png
[FROM BEAUREGARD, 6:36] img1849.png
[FROM BEAUREGARD, 6:37] img1850.png
[FROM BEAUREGARD, 6:38] Dude. Wth???????
He clicks through the images one-by-one. The first is a shot of Essek reaching his hand back towards the limousine, Caleb’s just a few inches away. For the most part, Caleb isn’t visible, but Caleb knows what was happening and that’s enough to fill out the rest.
The second picture is the one Essek had him stop and pose for. Essek is, as always, disconcertingly handsome, but his smile is genuine, lacking the uneasiness that was hovering over him like a dark cloud the entire night. One arm is slung over Caleb’s waist like it’s natural for him. Caleb, on the other hand, looks frightened, eyes open wide and a smile so fake it’s making the Caleb of the present cringe.
In the last one, Essek is being hauled off the platform by Verin in the background while Caleb commands the stage, leaning forward to speak into the microphone as Quana marches towards him. Maybe it’s the distance between the camera and the subject, but he doesn’t appear scared or out of his depth in this one, just determined.
Someone sends him another message and he holds the power button to force it off. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back onto the seat, inhaling deeply.
This is a tomorrow problem.