Chapter Text
Dawn broke on Sunday morning, as it had a habit of doing. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the yellowed blinds on the narrow windows, illuminating the small, three-bed room inside. A choir of early birds began to harmonize with the raucous snoring which had emanated from Shane’s little mattress all night. Harvey’s eyes fluttered open, having not fully remained closed the entire evening. His back hurt, his legs hurt, his head hurt, his shoulders hurt, his ankles which hung off the edge of the little bed hurt. He rolled onto his side to retrieve his glasses from the floor and stifled a groan. The room drew into focus, and he surveyed his surroundings. Shane lay on his back, mouth wide open, snores resounding at a hearty fortissimo, five o’clock shadow prominent, hair sticking up in every direction, blankets somehow inverted so that the comforter lay atop his body and the sheets lay sideways atop the comforter. Elliott, in stark contrast, lay perfectly still on his back beneath his blankets, which had not creased since he laid down the night before. His hands rested intertwined atop his chest, and his breathing was so slow and shallow that Harvey questioned for a moment whether he truly was the corpse he appeared to be. He wore a purple silk eye mask, and his hair splayed out majestically over the matching silk pillow he had brought from home. Harvey marveled at the utter dichotomy between these two individuals for just a moment before flopping back onto his pillow for another five minutes’ rest.
– – –
“Elliott, it’s 10:45!” Harvey exclaimed, banging yet again on the bathroom door. “We have to be out of this place by eleven, right? Let’s get a move on!”
From beneath the sound of the shower spray, Elliott barked a laugh. “What has this place done for us to demand our timely exit? No, Harvey, I will take my time with this deep conditioning treatment and I will leave this ti– ack–” he descended into a brief coughing fit due to the steam which crept out from beneath the door’s threshold, “ahem, I will leave this tiny, hellish little powder room looking and feeling like a million iridium bars on my own time, thank you very much!”
Shane unabashedly leafed through the journal which rested on top of Elliott’s suitcase and hummed thoughtfully. “Don’t we have brunch reservations somewhere today?” he muttered. “I thought I read that on the itinerary.”
Harvey sprang backwards as the bathroom door crashed open. Rolling mountains of steam billowed out from the washroom, revealing a figure standing in its midst. Elliott stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, a towel around his head, and a mortified expression on his face. “OH SWEET YOBA ABOVE, I FORGOT ABOUT BRUNCH!” he cried, falling to his knees.
“What time was the reservation?” asked Harvey.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elliott moaned into the floorboards.
Shane leafed backwards a page in the forbidden journal. “Ten a.m.,” he answered.
“Curse this wretched little abode!” Elliott exclaimed, hammering a fist onto the door frame. “It is because of this infuriating, suffocating space that I cannot think straight!”
Harvey’s brows furrowed behind his fogged glasses. “Elliott, I don’t think it’s the rental’s–”
“It is the rental and the rental only which has caused us such great despair!” he maintained. “My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined. Go! Go home to your loved ones while you still can! Leave me to rot with the termites in this inscrutable hell!”
“There’s a local cafe on the way to the bus station,” muttered Shane from behind a little blue binder. Elliott and Harvey looked up. Shane met their eyes and lifted the binder slightly in recognition. “Y’all not see this earlier? The rental owners left a little book of stuff to do around this place. It’s been here the whole time.” He looked back at the binder. “Anyway, it’s a little mom and pop shop about a fifteen minute walk away from here. Says they’ve got locally-roasted coffee and fresh crepes.”
An excited gasp escaped Harvey’s lips while a low rumble sounded from Elliott’s stomach. “All right then, it’s settled,” said Harvey as he struggled to lift Elliott’s limp body from the floor. “Elliott is going to finish his deep conditioning treatment while Shane and I finish packing, and we will stop for coffee and crepes on our way to the bus station. Perfect.” He hoisted Elliott to his feet, clapped his shoulder, and leaned in close to his ear. “You’ve got ten minutes and ten minutes only to finish getting ready or else we leave your ass in this rental once and for all,” he hissed as he shoved the author back into the bathroom.
– – –
Their stomachs full, their hands even more full with luggage and to-go coffee cups, the trio waltzed down the empty street toward the Zuzu City bus station. At least, that is where Elliott told them they were heading.
“El, I’m pretty sure the bus station is the other way,” Shane said, glancing over his shoulder.
“This is a shortcut,” Elliott responded, his pace growing more brisk despite the excessive luggage which should have weighed him down.
“Are you sure?” asked Harvey. “It seems we should still be going in the general direction of the bus station if it were truly a shortcut.”
“Harvey, I lived in this city for ten years. Trust me; I know where I am–”
“We just passed a sign that says “bus station” and points back that way,” chimed in Shane, jerking his thumb behind him. Elliott huffed a sigh.
“I– I just… Okay! I will get you to your wretched bus, I promise! I just need to make a stop first.” Elliott hitched his baggage a little tighter and darted around a corner. When Shane and Harvey caught up to him, he was standing outside a little building called “Union Avenue Books,” peering down at the books on display in the front window. Without another word, he stepped inside.
Harvey and Shane watched as Elliott flitted from shelf to shelf, scouring every last spine until he at last gasped and dropped his baggage with a loud crash. With a trembling hand, he pulled one crisp, bright blue paperback from the shelf.
Blue Tower – Elliott Thompson.
Elliott cradled the book in his hands like it were a newborn child, and a small smile crept onto his face. He glanced backwards at his friends and chuckled. “I, er… I received word a few weeks ago that the most popular local bookstore in Zuzu City wanted to sell my book. And now it’s here. It’s… It’s really here. My precious work, immortalized in print, stored on a public shelf for curious minds to purchase.” His lips trembled, and he released a deep breath as his thumb gently caressed the book’s cover. “You know, I was a city dweller just two years ago. I lived alone in a decrepit apartment not far from here, not a friend to my name, teaching theater arts to flippant teenagers and jotting down silly little novel ideas in a silly little notebook. But now I’m… here. I’m holding my published novel in the very bookstore I used to frequent. I just… I don’t know if I have ever felt happier than I do right now.”
Shane sidled up to Elliott and nudged his shoulder. “You should autograph a copy,” he whispered, and a gleam shone in Elliott’s eye.
“What a brilliant idea, my beloved Shane!” he whisper-shouted as he reached into his waistcoat to procure a pen.
Harvey waved his hands in front of Elliott’s face, as though the action would fan away the intrusive thoughts. “Elliott, no, you can’t do that! I’m happy for you and all, but you don’t own–”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Elliott chided as he clicked open his pen. “Oh, but I do own this book, as it is my intellectual property, my dear Harvard.”
“That’s not my na–”
“Harv, go distract the bookkeep,” Shane mumbled, jerking his head toward the checkout counter. “I’ll shield Elliott from any wandering eyes.” Harvey groaned, knowing any further protestations were in vain.
The clerk was a young woman in her mid-twenties who wore her bleached blonde hair in pigtail braids beneath a blue bandana. She propped herself up against the counter, studying a book so intently that Harvey questioned why he needed to distract her in the first place. He found himself gravitating toward her station regardless, cursing himself every step of the way.
“Um,” was all he could manage to say once in her presence. She looked up.
“Hi,” she said, though it nearly sounded like a question. “You need something?”
“Um… I just, ah…” he scratched the back of his neck and willed himself not to look backwards where Elliott and Shane were committing a crime. “Do you have any, um… books on…” he looked at her bandana. Upon further inspection, it boasted a number of birds among its print. “Birds?”
The girl raised an eyebrow. “Birds?”
Harvey kicked himself internally. “Uh-huh.”
The vertical space between her two eyebrows deepened. “Your two friends over there put you up to this?”
“Um…”
She sighed and looked back down at her book. “I have a girlfriend, dude. Buy a book or get out.”
Harvey could feel the blood rushing to his face at a speed which would surely be frowned upon in a school zone. “I– ah– I’m married, too, I– I mean, I–” He looked backwards to where Elliott and Shane were watching him, holding two thumbs up each. Harvey scowled, pulled out his wallet, and dropped ten gold in the “Donate Books to Needy Children” bucket on the counter. “I am so sorry,” he mumbled as he shuffled away.
“Nailed it,” Shane grinned at him. Harvey punched him in the arm.
“Oh, shut up,” Harvey muttered, his irritated facade disappearing with the emergence of a sheepish smirk.
While his companions continued their friendly bickering, Elliott stared down at the book in his hands. His thumb traced its edges, his eyes scanned its cover up and down and left and right, drinking in every last detail. The embossed title lettering, the beautiful cover art designed by none other than his dear friend Leah, his name displayed with a gorgeous, dignified font. He smiled at the fruits of his labor, and his smile deepened as he looked up at the two friends who had seen that labor through to completion, who had cheered him on every step of the way, reading and re-reading his drafts, listening thoughtfully to his rampant brainstorming, offering suggestions and critiques. Elliott gazed at his unsuspecting friends, and, feeling the fullness and warmth deep in his heart, gently tucked his autographed book back onto its shelf.
On their way out of the bookstore, Elliott stopped and pulled out his journal and pen. Harvey and Shane waited patiently for him, familiar with his sudden bursts of inspiration. He drummed the pen on his lips for a moment before finally putting it to paper.
Novel idea: three friends, each on a journey of self-discovery, embark on an adventure together.
He re-read the hastily-written note over and over again.
“Are you ready to head home, Elliott?” Harvey finally asked.
“C’mon, El,” Shane encouraged with a smile. “Charlie misses me.”
Elliott took a deep breath, tucked the journal back into his waistcoat, and followed his friends home.