Chapter Text
The silence stretched on painfully between the pair. Eric felt his face warm further as the new ego's eyes raked over him. There was still that curiosity in his eyes, the sort that had him shivering despite the warmth in the air. Eric's fidgeting with the handkerchief stopped when the man walked over to him.
"So..." the man began, his voice a low, rough drawl that reminded Eric of something he'd once heard in a musical. "Youse another one of my lookalikes, ain'tcha?" he asked.
"L-Lookalikes?" Eric repeated, wincing at how high and strained his voice sounded. The man nodded.
"Yeah! The man in the suit was tellin' me all about youse! Said there was a buncha guys here who looked like me but weren't me," he said. He gestured to the tattoo on his right hand. Eric felt the panicked screaming in his head come to a halt at the sight of the names tattooed on the man's knuckles. Mark on the left, Dark on the right. He had the sneaking suspicion that those tattoos weren't new at all and that the man had had them for years. Just another strange thread in a massive blanket that connected the Ipliers. "Name was Dark, right? Funny lookin' fella wit' the sickly skin," he added.
"Y-Yeah, um... S-Sounds like Dark. He's i-in charge of... O-Of all of us," Eric explained, his voice soft and caution filled. He tugged at his handkerchief once again. He knew it was selfish, but he really wished Dark was here right now. He barely understood the whole ego concept himself, so how was he supposed to explain it all to this new guy?
"Youse gotta name, pretty boy?" the man asked, a mischievous gleam flickering in his eyes as he held out his hand. Eric reacted automatically, some old training from when he was in business school kicking in as he shook the stranger's hand. He barely registered the nickname. When he did, though, it left his head spinning slightly. That was awfully friendly behavior from a guy he'd just met, wasn't it?
"Eric. Eric D-Derekson, um... Wh-What's your name?" Eric asked, worrying the handkerchief in his free hand as the man squeezed his other one tight.
"Eric Derekson, huh? Think I've heard that one before. On TV or somethin'," he muttered, finally letting go of Eric's hand after a moment. Eric's eyes widened slightly as his face flushed even darker. Great, he'd probably seen those god awful commercials that Mark had them film! "Name's Yancy! Ain't too often I get to meet new folks like this," he said, giving a little shrug of his shoulders. His smile widened a bit as he motioned to the garden. "Y'know, all outside and stuff. Wit' real flowers," he added.
"O-Oh, um... Y-You'll get to m-meet a lot of n-new people here," Eric said, his voice soft. He felt panic ravel gently around his heart and lungs. Just enough that he felt the exertion of his every beat and couldn't take as deep a breath as he'd have liked. A sort of careful curiosity splashed across Yancy's face for a moment.
"Yeah?" he asked, that warm drawl thickening for a moment. "Youse been here a while, ain'tcha?" he ventured. Eric nodded.
"N-Nearly a year, yeah," Eric murmured. His gaze wavered, his eyes focusing on the freesias just behind Yancy. His fingers twisted up in the handkerchief once more. It didn't go unnoticed by the other man.
"Think youse can give me the grand tour, then? Always liked bein' outside, s'good for my complexion," he said, that playful grin curling at his lips once more. His voice had become more gentle, the roughness slowly bleeding away before it was replaced with something a little more comforting. What was utterly ridiculous was that it worked. Somewhere between the accent and the tempered roughness in his voice, Yancy was actually making Eric feel better. A veritable stranger, one that had intruded in his garden, was making him feel a little less panicked. That wasn't even the most ridiculous thing, either!
It was that Eric was actually thinking about giving Yancy a damn tour!
The side of him that was in charge of evaluating risks to his personal health seemed to switch quickly between pulling overtime and doing nothing at all. He was either on red alert near Yancy, ready to bolt if he made any suspicious movements, or he was genuinely considering giving him a tour. It left Eric all tongue-tied, feeling useless and uncomfortably hot as the tips of his ears burned red.
Before he got the chance to stammer out a reply, there was another presence in the garden. A slight ringing filled the air as Dark walked past Eric. His eyes were cold and aloof, fixated squarely on the new ego as he stood between them.
"Yancy. Eric. I see you two have become... Acquainted," Dark commented. He spoke slowly, his voice low and vaguely threatening as it always was. Yancy's smile faltered slightly at the sight of Dark, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back. "Yancy and I will leave you to your gardening. I think it would be in his best interests if I showed him to his room. Moving from the penitentiary must have been quite tiresome, yes?" he asked. A single brow arched up carefully as he spoke. Eric shrank back against a hedge as he fussed with his handkerchief again.
"... Yeah, suppose I am pretty tired," Yancy finally said. He gave Dark a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, but the gesture looked almost forced. "Guess youse oughta show me on to the house," he added. That earlier roughness was back full force. Any trace of warmth in his eyes had gone away as well, leaving them cold and hardened as he stared Dark down. Eric watched as the pair walked off together. Yancy hesitated a moment, then glanced back at him over his shoulder before he grinned again. "It was nice meetin' youse, pretty boy! We'll just hafta save that tour for later, won't we?" he called. Eric felt a shy sort of grin tug at his lips as he nodded. It seemed to be enough for the man because his smile only widened before he spun back around to follow after Dark.
Eric couldn't help but heave out a sigh of relief when they were gone. He walked over to one of his freesia plants and busied himself with looking at the blooms. His hands shook, though, and he eventually gave up on trying to get any good cuttings. He sat down on the wooden bench swing a moment, then leaned back until he was staring up at the trees. He let his head rest against the back of the bench while he slowly pushed himself back and forth in the swing. It was nice in the garden. Blissfully quiet now without Yancy talking and Dark ringing.
Eric had the feeling that the quiet wouldn't last.