Work Text:
May the Circle be Unbroken
“They think that you’re going to steal the gold, Circ. We both know that this rumour is complete shit, and that you’d never get that desperate...but Star and Square and I, we heard this story going around and we wanted to check in with you. We haven’t talked much, lately.” Circ’s eyes narrowed and began scanning the bar, searching for the others.
“Oh, are the cowards uncomfortable with approaching me? Am I that obscenely intimidating that my dear friends dare not make their presences known?” Triangle considered how to delicately respond.
“Circ you…you really hurt them. I don’t think,” Tri paused, then pushed on. “I don’t think they consider you a friend anymore.” Circ’s mask slipped for a moment, and an expression of genuine hurt and confusion passed over their face. Tri instinctually reached out a hand towards theirs.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch me,” snarled Circle, canines exposed, their eyes glowing slits of malice. Tri reflexively pulled back his hand, neither shocked nor disappointed – just resigned.
“I know you know this,” he responded instead, softly but with enough intention that his voice carried above the noise of the crowded bar. “But I am on your side. I’m here to help you, Circ.”
This glowing symbol on Circ’s head dimmed momentarily, darkening the fog-filled corner where they sat. The vapour from innumerable electric cigarettes being exhaled by the denizens of the bar clung to Circ’s fur, their various sickly sweet stenches mingling to create an indescribably noxious odour. The change in light caused the shadows under Circ’s eyes to deepen, and as Circ glared at the table in front of them to avoid Tri’s gaze, he suddenly became aware of the hollows of Circ’s eye sockets and their sunken cheeks, and for a horrifying second he got a glimpse of what their skull must look like beneath their tired and limp fur.
The corner became flooded with a desperate shade of pink as Circ glanced back into Tri’s eyes, which were momentarily blinded. He felt for a moment like a spotlight had been turned on him, as if he was being interrogated.
“I want my jacket back. That’s how you can help. I want it back, now.” Tri sunk lower in his seat, rubbing his face with his large hands in exasperation.
“No, not that,” he growled.
“You said you were my friend, you said you wanted to help. I am giving you a very, very easy way for you to help me,” they explained patiently, as if to a child. “Give me back my jacket.”
“You’re going to gamble it away Circ. We both know this. You’re going to gamble it and you’re going to lose it.” Circ started, ears pulled back.
“And what if I do? What are you going to do to me? That would be my decision, no-one else’s, why would you even care? It’s just a jacket Tri, it’s worth nothing to either of us - but it could be worth just one more round of cards, please Tri, it’s just a jacket but I could turn it into gold with just one hand of cards - it’s that easy Tri, you’re my friend, please.”
“It isn’t yours to gamble!” Tri snapped, his voice getting tight.
“What do you mean? I bought it, I bought it with my own gold. You said you didn’t even really like it when I offered it to you, you said you were wearing it only to humour me. Well the joke’s over Tri, and I want it back now.” Circ’s voice had reached a high-pitched whine. From the corner of his eye Tri could see Square and Star look over from a distant table. “I never thought you could get this greedy, Tri.” Circ’s voice had gotten so quiet that Tri had to lean forward to hear them. “Tri you’re my best friend.” He paused, then continued. “I gave you that jacket because you were my best friend.”
Tri stood and slammed his hands on the table, the past-tense and finality of the previous statement digging deeper into his soul than any bullet. “You didn’t give this to me. A different Circ gifted this to me, a Circ who loved his pack of friends over a pack of cards, and who played games for fun, not for the desperate chance of profit. A friend who cared for a life outside of this hellhole of a bar, and who believed themselves destined for something greater than simply being the winner of the next hand. The Circ who gave me this jacket treated life like a storybook with its pages half-filled; who would have followed their friends to their graves, and then would have begun to dig their own grave beside them. The Circ that I loved would have rather died than have watched me toss this jacket to this hollow shell beside me, that breathes in nothing but cigarette vapour and exhales nothing but misery.” Tri took a deep breath as if to continue, then thought better of it. “I realize now that there is nothing I can do to help my best friend, because I lost them a long time ago.”
Tri left the table, and turned away from Circ before the tears collecting on his lower lid could fall. Star and Square silently joined him, and he absent-mindedly tossed some gold on the bar as he walked by to cover their tabs. Star couldn’t help but look back at Circ, sitting alone in the corner. She noticed, with a rush of hatred and pain, that Circ’s eyes were not following the resolute Tri as he left, but instead were gazing hungrily at the pieces of gold on the bar. Star felt no shame in the tears on her cheeks as she, all at once, quietly and efficiently, came to terms with the fact that they had lost Circle forever. She looked over at Tri, whose face was now impassive and unreadable. Square made as if to say something in an attempt to perhaps be optimistic, but stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
But Tri was only silent because far too many words filled his head. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself as the three friends left the bar and made their way through the electric tapestry of the city, the neon lights pleasantly blurred by the soft waves of fog. As hurt as he felt, Tri had already decided that he would visit the bar again. He couldn’t leave Circ, not with those final words. The two of them had been through too much together to have their story end like this. He would give Circ a few days to regain their pride, and then he would try again, and again, no matter how many times that it took.
(One hour earlier)
“Hey bud, you got this?” Square said to Triangle. It was less of a question and more of a rally cry.
“Yeah, of course,” responded Tri, mostly because he knew that’s what Square needed to hear. Star squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and said under her breath,
“You’ve got this. Under other circumstances you know that Square or I would’ve volunteered to do this in a heartbeat, but I honestly think it’s best if you talk to them alone. They were always closest with you.” Tri nodded and adjusted his jacket, which seemed tighter than usual. It used to feel like an embrace, but lately the piece of clothing seemed to cling to his frame desperately, as if pleading.
“Lead on, brave soldier,” announced Square, his jaunty attitude feeling a little forced and unnatural.
Star shot him a look, and then said, almost apologetically, “Don’t let them convince you to give them money, alright? Or anything. You’re only there to talk.”
Tri nodded, and took a deep breath as he lead the three of them through the door of their favourite old bar, to meet Circle just like it was old times.