He caught sight of Matthew coming across the corner. They nodded at each other, an unspoken greeting.
"There you are," Matthew said.
"As you see, I'm quite easy to locate," Rief said goodnaturedly. He winced slightly as the squabbling reached a fever pitch.
"Bickering again," Rief said with a smile, looking over his book.
"Always," Matthew said.
Matthew didn't talk very often, but then, it seemed as if with two people as noisy as Karis and Tyrell, he would be drowned out. Rief thought it was deeper, though. Matthew was a deep thinker. Hadn't his mother and Kraden said as much about Isaac?
"This'll be the third library we've been kicked out of on this continent alone," Rief said casually.
Matthew and Rief looked on as the commotion drew to its close, hearing the shouts fading, and then ceasing
"Leave it to Tyrell to make a scene."
"Yes, he's quite something," Rief said with a smile.
Matthew pursed his lips for a moment. "You know...when he was younger, he said he'd marry Karis. He'd deny it now, but I think the affection is still there, under it all."
"Is that so?" Rief said. The statement itself was innocuous, but he could've sworn this was a warning, telling him to turn back. Matthew was hard to read by his nature, given to silences and enigmatic reasoning, and yet, was that a hint of jealousy? If so, then of whom? Of the trio, keeping their bonds intact with Rief as the outsider – or was his jealousy deeper, revolving around Karis herself?
It would take some pondering to figure out this conundrum. People weren't easy to read, unlike texts you couldn't just extract the information and file it away. They had nuances and unseen motivations, even contradictory at times. Karis and Tyrell were easier to understand, but Matthew was more complex. His thoughts were often drawn to Matthew, picking apart his puzzles. Did he at time, admire Matthew, or give Matthew more attention than was due for a mere studious glance? Perhaps he had lingered too long in his gaze, thought too often of purple irises, the downward slope of a determined expression, and attributed facts to it, as an afterthought, as an excuse.
"Good for them," Rief said finally, bridging the silence between them. Not that he minded silence. His sister had a habit of filling every space of quiet, with whistling or humming until he wanted to throw the tomes at her and possibly a few well-aimed spikes of ice.
Matthew turned in profile, and Rief noticed a flush over his neck, his ears.
He had discounted himself in the equation, as he was the outsider, to say nothing of his gender. Matthew cleared his throat, and brought his gloved hand to his mouth, as if concealing a cough.
Putting it together, he remembered moments of shared foods, shared blankets, or that Matthew had seemed to seek out his company or advice. He had thought nothing of it at the time, but now he reconsidered. When Matthew looked to him, his pupils were dilated just so, the tell-tale sign of attraction – or intoxication via various opiates, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the latter.
Nothing was as profound as he found that moment of knowing, of discovering just the fact he needed. And now, he knew the steps to take, if not the words to say.
Discoveries 2
He caught sight of Matthew coming across the corner. They nodded at each other, an unspoken greeting.
"There you are," Matthew said.
"As you see, I'm quite easy to locate," Rief said goodnaturedly. He winced slightly as the squabbling reached a fever pitch.
"Bickering again," Rief said with a smile, looking over his book.
"Always," Matthew said.
Matthew didn't talk very often, but then, it seemed as if with two people as noisy as Karis and Tyrell, he would be drowned out. Rief thought it was deeper, though. Matthew was a deep thinker. Hadn't his mother and Kraden said as much about Isaac?
"This'll be the third library we've been kicked out of on this continent alone," Rief said casually.
Matthew and Rief looked on as the commotion drew to its close, hearing the shouts fading, and then ceasing
"Leave it to Tyrell to make a scene."
"Yes, he's quite something," Rief said with a smile.
Matthew pursed his lips for a moment. "You know...when he was younger, he said he'd marry Karis. He'd deny it now, but I think the affection is still there, under it all."
"Is that so?" Rief said. The statement itself was innocuous, but he could've sworn this was a warning, telling him to turn back. Matthew was hard to read by his nature, given to silences and enigmatic reasoning, and yet, was that a hint of jealousy? If so, then of whom? Of the trio, keeping their bonds intact with Rief as the outsider – or was his jealousy deeper, revolving around Karis herself?
It would take some pondering to figure out this conundrum. People weren't easy to read, unlike texts you couldn't just extract the information and file it away. They had nuances and unseen motivations, even contradictory at times. Karis and Tyrell were easier to understand, but Matthew was more complex. His thoughts were often drawn to Matthew, picking apart his puzzles. Did he at time, admire Matthew, or give Matthew more attention than was due for a mere studious glance? Perhaps he had lingered too long in his gaze, thought too often of purple irises, the downward slope of a determined expression, and attributed facts to it, as an afterthought, as an excuse.
"Good for them," Rief said finally, bridging the silence between them. Not that he minded silence. His sister had a habit of filling every space of quiet, with whistling or humming until he wanted to throw the tomes at her and possibly a few well-aimed spikes of ice.
Matthew turned in profile, and Rief noticed a flush over his neck, his ears.
He had discounted himself in the equation, as he was the outsider, to say nothing of his gender. Matthew cleared his throat, and brought his gloved hand to his mouth, as if concealing a cough.
Putting it together, he remembered moments of shared foods, shared blankets, or that Matthew had seemed to seek out his company or advice. He had thought nothing of it at the time, but now he reconsidered. When Matthew looked to him, his pupils were dilated just so, the tell-tale sign of attraction – or intoxication via various opiates, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the latter.
Nothing was as profound as he found that moment of knowing, of discovering just the fact he needed. And now, he knew the steps to take, if not the words to say.
"I see," he said. "Yes, I see now..."