Chapter Text
Saul woke up to the smell of bacon.
He still wasn't used to it. Breakfast, he means. Or the bed underneath him. He rolls over on the mattress and presses his nose to the pillow on the other side of the bed, enjoying its coolness. God. God, it feels so good to sleep on a mattress. Saul had completely forgotten what it felt like over the years.He'd been living here for eight months, and he still wasn't used to it at all. He felt like at the slightest wrong word, everything would jump out from underneath him and leave him to sleep on cold concrete again.
Saul gives himself five more minutes before the smell of breakfast in the kitchen downstairs is too strong for his stomach to ignore anymore. He sat up with a grumble, fumbling for his glasses atop of the bedside table adjacent to the bed he'd slept on (his bed, Rivers kept reminding him, but that still didn't feel quite right) and sliding them onto his face with a slow blink.
Saul waddles out of bed and out of the bedroom, not even bothering to get dressed— it wasn't like he was strutting around the house in his birthday suit, y'know, he had on boxers, he was dignified— and tried not to stumble downstairs. Rivers is singing when Saul finds them in the kitchen— off-key and barely under their breath, milling around as bacon pops and eggs fry. It smells good. Saul's mouth waters a bit just looking at it.
Rivers turns on their heel, probably to grab something from the cabinets, and jumps at the sight of Saul in their doorway. Then they grin. "Good morning, Sam!"
Saul scowls. "Rivs, it's Saturday. The fuck are you doing up at the asscrack of dawn."
Rivers turns their head to squint at the analogue clock hanging on their wall. "It's 8:23, actually."
"Did I stutter?" Saul climbs up into a seat at the kitchen bar, leaning his forearms against the cold marble. His feet barely touch the ground. "It's your day off, ain't it?"
"It is." Rivers turns their attention back to the stove, flipping a piece of bacon and checking on the eggs. "My brain's just so used to gettin' up early that it just does it automatically now, y'know?"
"I do not."
Rivers just snorted, shaking their head. "Whatever. Want some coffee?"
"Fuck, yes."
They sat in comfortable silence. Rivers slid Saul his coffee with his plate when the food was finished, and they ate in similar fashion. It was just as good as it smelled, thank God.
"How'd you get so good at cookin'?" Saul asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Pinkie used'ta ban you from the kitchen, d'you remember?"
Rivers laughed, taking a sip from their own mug. "Spite." They paused. "And practice. I cooked a lot after— after you went missing." Rivers rubbed the back of their neck with a sheepish smile.
Ah. There it was.
The thing they refused to talk about.
It was brought up like a dead man. After you went missing. Before you went missing. When you went missing. It was always mentioned, but never discussed with the thoroughness the topic deserved. It was both of his fault, really— Saul tore himself inside out enough in Rehab and therapy, and he really didn't want to talk about it anymore than he needed to. But that didn't stop Rivers from wanting to know. Everybody wanted to know- Queen, Carol, Rudy, Noelle, his siblings, everybody.
Everybody wanted to know why the hell Gabriel Saul Addison disappeared off the face of the earth, and why the hell he came back so damaged.
Saul swallowed thickly and nodded along, silently dodging Rivers' gentle hint. He took another sip of his coffee. The silence continued.
"Wanna go to town with me today?" Rivers asked suddenly, hopefully, and Saul nearly spat out his coffee.
"Huh?"
"To town. With me. I don't know if you've noticed, but we need groceries." Rivers pushed their finished plate away from them, taking an idle sip from their drink. "I need to go to the library, too. And I wanted to go clothes shopping. For you, actually. S'gonna get cold soon and there's only so much of my closet that I want to share, you know."
Saul scowled. "Does that really involve me havin' to come? You know my sizes, don't you?" It wasn't like his clothing size was that hard to remember. About eight months ago, it had been the smallest size they had. He was proud to say that they'd been able to bump it up to a medium now that he's been able to eat regularly.
Rivers just sighed. "Come on, Sauly," they said, with way too much whine in their tone for someone that was 39, "I can count how many times you've gone out on one hand. You need some vitamin D."
"You sayin' I look like shit?"
"I'm sayin' that you're pale, but you do look like shit." Rivers grinned behind their mug. Saul rolled his eyes. Saul knew he wasn't a looker. He wasn't too proud to say that he used to be, but a solid eighteen years of ruining his body was still a solid eighteen years ill-spent. He hardly recognized his pictures in Rivers's old photo albums anymore. His skin didn't look healthy. He was bony. His hair was thinning so much he was practically balding. It wasn't like staying with Rivers wasn't helping, though. Rivers sat him down every night to try hair-growth serums and oils on his scalp to like an scientist conducting expiriments, trying to see if something would change or if the damage was too far severely done. Saul couldn't say that he didn't notice a difference. It was a smidge thicker than it was before.
And he was gaining weight, too. Slowly. Saul used to have a soft pudge around his middle before everything went to shit. He'd hated it then, but when he was practically starving to death underneath lamplights and newspapers, he'd never missed it more. Now he was just filling out gently with time and good meals.
"C'mon. It'll just be you and me. An outing or whatever. Just like how we used to." Rivers cracked another grin, and Saul found his resolve fading.
He gnawed on his lip, then eventually sighed. "Fine."
"Really?"
"Don't make me change my mind."
Rivers beamed at him— a genuine, sunshining smile that made Saul feel bad for even considering staying home. Saul rolled his eyes again, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, when didja want to leave?"
Saul really hated going out in public. He could count on his fingers how many times he'd gone out in the past eight months he'd been living with his sibling— which, he bitterly supposed, had been one of Rivers's reasons for him to go out with them in the first place. He hated it when they were right, too.
He knew that people were always looking at him. He wasn't pretty, and by that logic, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He looked like a junkie— and, in their defense, he had been— and that was enough for skittish mothers to yank their children away from him like a disease on the street. He was someone different in a town full of familiar faces, and that was all the more reason for him to be silently picked apart by the judgmental eyes of anyone he would never get to know.
Saul had his head tucked underneath his hood, his fists bundled up in his pockets. He really didn't need the jacket. It was warm out. Rivers had been inspecting the crime mystery section of the local library for about twenty minutes now, and Saul had gotten tired of playing the ABC game with book titles about an hour ago. Rivers had insisted on coming here first. Said that maybe Saul could pick up reading again like he used to. Saul was dissinterested.
He didn't hate reading. He wouldn't actually hate the idea if it hadn't been Rivers that suggested it.
Rivers had been wandering amuck around this library for ages. They could only check out ten books, and by god were they taking their time picking out those ten. Saul had chewed through half a pack of gum and reorganized two entire shelves of books by type, shape, and series. He supposed the library already had an organization for their books. He lived to be a nuisance.
"Could you stop pacing? You're stressing me out." Rivers muttered as they crouched down to get a good look at the bottom set of shelves. "Pick something up and read it or something. Out of everywhere you could be, you choose the library to be bored out of your mind."
"Not much of a reader, I guess." Saul tapped his foot against the carpeted floor without much rhythm, fighting the urge to chew on his lip.
"I'm sure there's something you'd be interested in. C'mon. Humor me." Rivers dropped from their squat and sat down fully on the floor, crossing their legs underneath them. Saul pointed down at them from where he stood.
"You're sitting on the floor."
"Yes. Momentarily."
"This isn't your floor to sit on."
"Oh, fuck off." Rivers rolled their eyes. "Look. Pick out something. Anything. I'll get it as part of my ten checkouts. Honestly, I think it could, I don't know… Help you."
Saul narrowed his eyes at them.
He knew what that meant.
It meant that Rivers had been doing research again. Digging through the deepest depths of the internet, milling through blogs and forums and websites, searching high and low for ways to help Saul as he… Recovered. Recovered from his addictions.
Saul had told them to cut that shit out months ago. He got his help from the rehab center thirty minutes out about three times a week. It used to be every week. He used to have to live there. He was clean now. He didn't need any more help. At least, he really liked to think so.
Saul swallowed. Rivers met his gaze. Again, they looked hopeful. "Try it. Just this once. If ya hate it, then I won't bother you again."
Saul shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned on his heel. He marched out of the aaisle and took a left, heading deeper into the library. "I take that as a yes?" Rivers called out after him. Saul made a noncommital sound in reply.
Saul turned a corner, then another. He paused, hissing at the slight ache in his knees, and took a glance at the books at the shelves. Romance novels.
His eye caught on the spine of one of them. He took a step closer, pulling the book from its place. The book next to it slumped over into the newfound open space. He turned the book in his hands, running a palm over the cover with a slight frown. It was called Mackenzie's Mountain. He knew that from somewhere.
He knew that. He knew that. He could remember a version of this same book, sitting on a nightstand next to a bed he used to sleep in. He remembered that book having dog-eared pages and a well-worn paperback cover. He remembered thinking it looked like it'd been bought second hand. He could remember big hands holding the book, of a warm voice reading it aloud.
He knew it. More than that, he knew who used to love this book.
Fucking God.
Honestly, Saul hated thinking about him. He really, really did. Maybe that was why he haunted Saul's memory so much.
Saul flips the book over again and glances over the description on the back, working his bottom lip between his crooked teeth. Rivers had been talking about just going ahead and getting them all pulled. There wasn't no shame in getting dentures, they'd said.
Saul almost let himself get distracted by that memory. It was a hell of a lot less painful then remembering Antoine Tenna.
Suddenly, a voice rose from the next aisle of books in front of Saul, making him jump in surprise. It was like a soft slap in the face, like, hey, idiot. You're in public. Stop oogling that book like it was what screwed you over.
"Susie, put that down!" A girl giggled. There was a slight shuffle of clothes, like she'd pushed on someone's shoulder. "It's gross!"
Oh! Saul felt a little smile cross his face without realizing it. That sounded like—
Another voice, a deeper one, laughed. "C'mon, Noelle! Just a little peak?" There was a russle of flipping pages, then the other girl laughed harder. "Oh, c'mere and check this out, Kris. It's fuckin' awful."
Saul tucked the book underneath his arm without much thought to it, moving to peak around the corner of the bookshelves. He knew Noelle— his little cousin, with doe eyes and bright golden curls that somehow never darkened or needed to be touched up with highlights. In the eight months he'd been living with Rivers, she'd been around a lot to visit, to help, to get to know Saul. The last time Saul had seen her, she'd been a newborn. Now she was almost 17.
She'd stay at Rivers's house sometimes. Mostly to escape her mother. With Rudy in the hospital, Carol was insufferable. Saul didn't blame Noelle for wanting to get away from it. If she wasn't at Rivers, then she was with Queen, her godmother. She and Rivers were pretty good friends. She and Saul were… less than. Saul knew the Dreemurr kid, too. One of Noelle's best friends. He didn't know them as well as he knew their mother— Toriel. She was a sweet lady, older than him, and came to visit the day after Saul moved into Rivers' home. She brought a pie with her and invited him to church. Saul didn't go, but he had still appreciated the offer.
And Susie. Saul didn't know her.
Well, he could say that, but he did know of her. Noelle's girlfriend. Kris's best friend. Noelle talked about her like she hung the moon and painted the stars. Carol said she was a walking natural disaster that was going to lead her daughter astray. Queen said she was cool as hell. With all of those descriptions in mind, Saul thought well of her.
Saul was about to turn the corner into the aisle when another voice froze him in his tracks.
An amused voice. Teasing and warm, deep and rumbling in a way that made Saul's skin crawl. "Just what are you looking at?"
Oh.
Oh, God.
Oh, Goddammit.
Saul nearly dropped the book under his arm from the shock, but flexed his grip last-second. He fumbled to yank his hood over his head, biting his teeth down on the inside of his lips to keep them shut.
"Nothin', Tenna!" Susie said quickly. There was a thud, like she had slammed a book back into the shelf.
"Just a great book." A new voice mused— Kris, Saul recgonized it. "I think Susie was checking it out."
He hummed. "Oh, really? Why don't you show me then?" Saul could hear the underlying amusement in his voice. "I'll even check it out for you if you want."
"Nonononono." There was a heavier thump. "I don't want it. Don't even remember it anymore. What was the books name again? It doesn't matter, lets—"
"50 Shades of Gray." Noelle fufilled, giggling all the while.
He gave a low whistle. "Didn't think they'd put that in a library." He mused, incredulously. "Well, if you really want it—"
"I don't! Bye!" There was a sound of thumping feet and another russle of clothes. The footsteps retreated out of the aisle and away from them towards the direction of the computer lab.
Tenna laughed again. Deep and rich. It rang in Saul's ears like a beautiful cathedral bell, and Saul wanted to dig his fingers into his ears until he broke his eardrums. Saul spun until his back hit the bookshelf behind him. It wobbled a little bit with his weight. He listened intently as footsteps thudded away and the sound of banter faded out, holding his breath until the world around him was silent again.
Why, after all this time, did he have to show up here? Why did he have to show up now?
Something thick welled up in Saul's chest. Something hot and mean and heavy. Something so incredibly angry. Tenna. Antoine Tenna. He appeared out of nowhere like he'd read Saul's mind, summoned by his cruel memory and one of the godforsaken books he used to read all the time. Why here, why now, why ever?
Fate was motherfucking bitch. You clean yourself up, get your life on the right track, drop the drugs and the alcohol, only to realize that now you live in the same town as the person who spiraled you into your addictions in the first place.
"What am I still doing here." Saul whispered to himself, his words barely an audible above a breath. He flexed his grip on the book, still underneath his arm, and he pulled the hood over his face even more until it covered his eyes. He turned to walk out of the aisle , his head bowed with his hood so that he really couldn't see much aside from the floor, and went to take a left with purpose— he walked fast despite the fact that he couldn't see, eager to get away, to get back to Rivers and to drag them outside.
He ran into someone.
Hard.
He face planted into a broad chest, his book clattering to the ground with thud. Several other books did, too, one of them hitting Saul on the foot. He yelped and backed away from the person quickly, a retort waiting on his lips— Watch where you're going, dumbass! Before he bit it back. He was the one that yanked a hood so far over his head that he looked like the grim reaper. He swallowed his words instead. "Oh, Jesus— My bad, my bad." He waved his hands, pushing the stupid hood over his head— and then the person replied.
"Oh, no, no! It's not a problem! Are you okay?"
In short, Saul was not.
Saul tipped his eyes up and looked up into the smiling face of his very own ex-fiancé.
There was no way Saul could've misplaced his face. In all honesty, Tenna really hadn't much much at all— despite the fact that he looked older now. And, by God, had he aged by fine wine. There was a stubble across his jaw and his hair was cut a little closer to his scalp than it had been over a decade ago. He looked broader now. Stronger. The sweater he wore over a white-collared shirt was a little baggy, but it looked comfortable. Tenna looked comfortable. He looked like he hadn't ever made a singular bad decision in his entire life and lived like a good, honest man.
He was still gorgeous. He sucked the breath out of Saul's lungs just by looking at him. Instantly, Saul felt self-conscious.
And when Tenna's eyes landed on Saul's face… It was difficult to say, with the thick lenses of his glasses nearly obscuring them, but… Saul couldn't see hardly any recognition in them at all. His face didn't change when Tenna took him in. It didn't scrunch or scowl or look angry, sad, or shocked. It was smoothed over with an easy grin.
"Have I met you before?" Tenna asked suddenly, tilting his head as he inspected Saul's face. "I swear, you look familiar." Tenna shook his head before Saul managed to even think of a proper response, reaching out and offering Saul a hand. "It's just these bad eyes, I suppose. My name's Antione, by the way! Antione Tenna. Pleasure to meet you." Saul looked at his hand for a moment, and his own palm shook when he took it. Tenna's handshake was firm and confident, and Saul hoped it masked just how weak his own was in return.
Saul had spent almost two decades cursing and mourning that face, and Tenna didn't even recognize his own.
"Ah, u-um… Sam. My name's Sam." Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth. Rivers was the only one that still called Saul "Sam" now. "H-Here, let me—" Saul released Tenna's hand and stooped down, gathering up the books in his arms. There was a good bit of them. Way over the maximum. Saul guessed he was carrying some of the kids' books, too.
"Oh, it's nothing, I swear." Tenna kneeled down beside Saul, picking up books himself and— oh, my God. It was the same cologne. Expensive and thick and so goddamn familiar. It made him nauseous.
Saul held his breath, extending the books in his hands towards Tenna once he'd finished. Which, in his part, didn't take long, and he had the most of them due to his early start. Tenna took them back and added them to the books in his own arms, inspecting them to make sure they were all there. His face scrunched a little as he inspected the books. Saul knew he was counting them up in his head, he recognized it in his expression. Then Tenna pulled a novel out from the stack in his arms. When he turned it over and a grin broke out onto his face.
"I don't think this was part of mine," He mused, turning the book over with one hand. "Did you have this one?"
The novel. "I— I-I, uh—"
"If it isn't, I still think you should read it anyways. I love this book." I know you do. Tenna handed Mackenzie's Mountainback to him with an even wider grin than before. "I have my own copy. I've read it so many times that it's practically falling apart at the spine!" He laughed a little, and Saul laughed with him, trying to be polite not seem awkward in the slightest.
"I-I'll gi-gi ve it a try."
"Tenna!" Someone called, from further in the library, and Tenna huffed a sigh out of his nose. His face looked fond. "That'll be my niece. I bet she's ready to go. It was nice to meet you!"
And, as suddenly as Tenna had appeared, he was gone again.
Saul felt like he was in shock.
He felt like he was drowning.
He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Like he wanted to laugh, like he wanted to cry, like he wanted to curse and smack the glasses right off of stupid Antione Tenna's face. He didn't recognize him. In some twisted way, he felt both upset and relieved about that all at once. It was almost like that interaction didn't even feel real. Saul pinched himself hard in the arm, and hissed as pain bloomed across his wrist. He wasn't dreaming.
He had thought about what he'd say to him for years and years after Tenna didn't pick up the phone. He'd imagined spitting in his face, of kneeing him between the legs, of shouting and screaming until Tenna saw Saul's way and apologized. Saul had thought of a thousand different scenarios that all involved Tenna begging for forgiveness and of Saul leaving him to rot. Sometimes, on nights he'd feel particularly lonely, he'd imagined taking him back. That imagination had made Saul feel powerful when he had nothing.
But Saul hadn't shouted. He hadn't demanded an explanation. He hadn't slapped him or punched him or even reached his arms around him for a dramatic embrace.
Tenna hadn't recognized him at all, and Saul had let it stay that way.
Saul's legs shook underneath him when he turned around. He held the book to his chest as he walked back towards the aisle where Rivers had been, and when they weren't there, he walked to the front. His heart was thundering in his ears. He needed to lay down. Maybe Rivers could drive him back home. Saul could still smell Tenna's cologne, like his body had subconsciously caught onto the scent and refused to let it go.
Saul found Rivers at the front, as if they'd been waiting for him. They grinned when they saw him. "You did find something! See, I told you—"
"Can we go home?" Saul interrupted them, suddenly. Rivers opened their mouth, then closed it, looking confused.
"Home?" They repeated. "I mean, yeah, sure, but we still have to go get the groceries. Why?"
Saul shook his head. "I'll t-tell yo-you in the car." He pushed the book into River's arms. "Can-can we-w-we just check this out and g-go-go, pl-please?"
"Alright, alright..." Rivers eyed Saul warily, and Saul felt like they were reading his mind. His stutter, probably. It only got this bad when he was too nervous to control it. Rivers patted Saul on the shoulder as they walked to the checkout desk, making an easy conversation with the kind librarian behind it. Saul stayed put, hugging his arms, his mind running in circles.
When Saul looked up again, he found that Rivers was still at the front desk, but not only that— Tenna had taken up space in the line behind them, along with the three kids from before. Noelle was talking animatedly to Rivers as the librarian finished up, and Susie stood next to her. The girl was tall. Broad. Strong enough to look like she could snap Saul in half just by thinking about it. The ends of her brown hair were dyed a dark shade of purple, and Saul had glimmer of an idea that it had been Noelle's doing.
An idea emerged in Saul's head, and he was shocked that he hadn't thought of it before. Rivers knew that Tenna lived here.They had to have known. It was a small town. Rivers ran the only local thrift store— and, by logic, the only proper clothing store, too. There was no way.
Saul felt like screaming.
The librarian finished up and handed all the books Rivers had picked up back to them. They bid their goodbyes to Noelle, who turned as she returned the gesture, smiling brightly. When her eyes landed on Saul, his heart dropped to his stomach.
"Oh!" She clapped her hands together. "Hi, Saul!"
A lot of things happened in one moment, and as a result, Saul made a vow to himself to never show his face in public ever again. For one, he twisted on his heel and damn near busted his ass on the ground trying to run out of the local library, where multiple people visited and happened to be right now. For two, Tenna had turned so quickly that Saul was sure he had to have gotten whiplash from it, his glasses nearly flinging off of his face with the force of it. His arms went slack and his books fell down to the ground again.
"Saul?!" He'd said, and Saul didn't give him the decency of a proper reply. He'd already started running away again.