Chapter Text
Angus beams, a splitting smile on his youthful face, and immediately, Taako’s heart drops to his stomach and a lump lodges itself in his throat.
Oh fuck.
He wasn’t prepared for this child, this incessantly eager-to-please bundle of joy that makes his heart sing in ways that he’s never known to miss until now, because he’s Taako dammit, and he doesn’t have feelings or this fear of loss or a fiercely protective fire that burns within his chest.
He’s Taako. He’s the flippant stereotypical high-elf wizard, the loudmouth, the stupid one who sometimes does useful cantrips and maybe a neat trick sometimes, always digging his trembling fingers with a steel-like determination into anyone who would let him stay–
It doesn’t matter that Angus almost (almost) fills that gaping hole where his heart is supposed to be, it doesn’t matter that Angus’s eagerness and proficiency in magic sparks a small competitive streak that is so familiar in his eyes, none of it holds any ground after Taako realizes that he oozes poison.
And he’s rather miffed to realize that he would rather die than let Angus near it.
“Sir?” They’re walking now, down the pathways of the Bureau of Balance.
“What, Ango?”
“Well, I am the world’s greatest detective, but, um, I realize that sometimes when I investigate I sometimes invade the privacy of my friends! And I don’t think that is very nice to them, and I’d rather like to remain friends, so…” He thumbs the edges of the book that he’s carrying, and says, “Would you tell me what happened to… t-to your TV show? So, so I can understand why you do the things you do, maybe?”
Taako freezes. The tip of his Umbra Staff clacks on the floor as he stops in the middle of the hallway, but his mind is racing. So many voices split through his head, each more malicious than the next; What have you done?! You killed my family why do you still show your face around here, like, like nothing is wrong? I’ve heard about you, wizard. You were the one that slaughtered them in cold blood, without warning and in such a cowardly way–
“Sir!”
Taako blinks, and Angus is tugging at the edge of his robe, eyes wide and a little frantic as employees of the Bureau of Balance weave around them with curious glances. Immediately resuming his regular pace and paying Angus no mind, Taako elects to forget that ever happened and ignore him as usual. Except. Except his fingers are still gently tugging his robe like he was afraid to actually grab it – as he should – but still unwilling to actually let him go. Taako raises a perfect eyebrow.
“Agnes?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Why are you still touching me?” Angus’s hands let go, but it didn’t deter him in any way from following Taako’s heels, nearly stepping on them.
“Well, sir, you kind of zoned out there when I asked about the TV thing? But it actually tells me a lot about what could have happened, and–”
Taako felt sick. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to get it out. All that therapy bullshit about how not keeping it in will help him heal, help him get over it, were lies to incriminate him further, bury him in a guilt so deep nobody is willing to hear him scream. He didn’t want any of that, but here Angus is, the only one with enough wits about him to actually figure out what happened, what a monster he is, and suddenly Taako’s fear crescendos until he feels the cold and guarded persona rise up around him like a cocoon.
“Angus.” And Taako turns around abruptly, watching Angus try to match the suddenness of his movements and almost fall, taking a sort of sick satisfaction in seeing the shock on his face. And then he was kind of scared, because he felt the poison rising in his veins, he felt it pile up behind his throat like he swallowed a viper that dug its fangs into his tongue. No, Angus didn’t deserve this, he didn’t, he absolutely didn’t but now it was piling and flowing without his command–
“I don’t care about you, can’t you see that? Did you really think I liked teaching you magic lessons? These are cantrips. I am an accomplished wizard who’s got more things to do than teach some boy how can’t even prestidigitate more spells he’s got no chance of mastering. Well, I guess it’s understandable why, anyways.”
No no no no, no don’t say it don’t-
“For a boy who’s got no family, it’s only logical you try to cling to everyone you see.”
Oh fuck. The regret that rushes him like a torrent of freezing water almost knocks him over when Angus’s face scrunches up in that way where he’s trying his best not to cry (and Taako’s screaming, god Angus, just cry nobody’s going to criticize you for crying just CRY SO THEY CAN BLAME IT ON ME JUST CRY), but Angus just swallows and takes a shuddering breath, and excuses himself before Taako can say anything else.
But even as Angus’s quick footsteps and tiny sniffles haunt him like the screams of a banshee, the chains of his pride fasten around his neck, and he hates himself, he hates himself, he hates himself for not running after him, not grabbing him and saying he’s sorry, for never holding him like he’s something precious because god, fuck, this is just who he is, and he can’t fucking change.
The news of his altercation spreads quickly through the employees of the Bureau, and Taako realizes this when he wakes up to Merle and Magnus at the foot of his bed, disapproving looks on their faces. And oh, isn’t this just perfect? To be at the cusp of losing so many people at once?
And this, this is just great because he ran out of his favorite nail polish last night when he dropped it while contemplating his life choices (not good), and trying to fill that hole in his chest with superficial things like beauty supplies and hair care. Trying to figure out just why it felt so wrong to want to cut his hair a little, why something just settles in his chest when he looks into the mirror to his reflection that’s just on this side of feminine.
Even waking up now is a bother, and these few days which have passed seems like a catalyst that sets off too many things at once, too much, and not enough of something he just can’t name. It’s been years since he’s felt like doing something to hurt himself, or crying till his tears turns bloody, or most ridiculously, begging for comfort from those around him like a dog searching for scraps.
Thinking about the way that people are going to look at him the second he steps outside of his doors is…no. It’s too similar to when he was on the run, hits too close to his past and too close to home, this home, his home.
So, he ignores them flippantly, pretending the guilt is washing off him instead of clogging his lungs, and goes about his business as usual. But they keep pestering him with questions about what happened, giving him unnecessary updates on how Angus is doing, even have the fucking audacity to ask him if he’s okay, as if Taako the haughty wizard whose heart is so rash that he would yell at a child was hurt by any of this–
And. And he’s tired. He wants them to stop and he’s never had this weird family with this weird support system just for him and he doesn’t want it but he does because something feels right but wrong and he deals with it the only way he knows how.
He smirks to Magnus after he steps a bit too close, and spits out barbed words about his lack of intellect, which, you know, in retrospect, seems pretty fucking assholish, but it’s too late now and they both look like they’re on the edge of doing something so why shouldn’t Taako push them over? He’s already sent Angus crying, and even if he tries his hardest to keep them by sheer will, it won’t work, because he’ll never be enough.
He’s always been good at pretending otherwise, anyways.
Taako stands there in the ensuing silence, and the cold settles over him, regretfully familiar and nearly nostalgic, waiting for the verdict that would fall, hoping that this time, maybe he’s protected himself enough for it not to hurt anymore.
But as good as an actor Taako is, his body still betrays him in the smallest of ways; the way that he holds himself, stiff and cold, the small, nearly imperceptible trembling of his ears, the crossed arms and defensive posture.
And, he doesn’t notice it, not really, but Magnus does. Though Magnus can’t really offer his help when Angus asks him to read to him, or understand the things that some people around him talk about, no one can say that Magnus doesn’t love, doesn’t always offer his help, arms outstretched, heart open.
He sees.
He sees what Taako doesn’t say.
And then he offers.
Taako’s eyes and head whip back to Magnus’s approaching figure, but before he can back up, before he could do anything other than blink, he feels strong, warm arms around him, gentle and firm and unexpected and fuck his eyes are burning with tears he hadn’t given permission to gather, but now his breaths are a little shaky and he somehow overlooked how close to the brink he was until Magnus pulled him back.
“Sorry – sort of impulsive, but I think you needed it.”
Why, what did he have to apologize about? This man that throws around apologies like they’re nothing, where sorrys just tumble out of his lips a dime a dozen yet still sound so stupidly sincere. Taako’s apologies feel awkward, sharp, like fragments of glass cutting out his heart and thrust into his throat, or just fake, and hollow, feigned like his life.
Where did his heart go?
Merle stands off to the side, watching this unfold with acceptance and a hint of exasperation, but ultimately stands beside Magnus and taps Taako’s leg with his Extreme Teen Bible. Even if Taako refuses to lift his head up (tear streaks just aren’t attractive, and he’s not feeling very well right now), Merle just speaks quietly, privately, offering words of understanding, encouragement, throwing around bad jokes and tidbits of wisdom.
And in this quiet moment of soft murmurs and softer hands, Taako starts to lean back from that precipice, and comes back. Not good, but better. He pushes at Magnus’s chest gently, and dabs at the moisture on his face with Magnus’s cloak, sending a watery and wavering smile up at him. He composes himself, bit by bit, and Merle and Magnus offer no judgement, just peace and time.
Taako takes a deep breath. Under the slightly expectant gazes of his (friends), Taako feels a weight lift ever so slightly off his chest, giving him more air; a little more clarity, hope.
He mutters, loud enough for Merle and Magnus; “I have to talk to Ango.”