Nightingale sat at the edge of the Firewater Circle. For once, he wasn't here to perform. He was here to think. Recently, he had had the feeling that Bastok was simply too small for him.
He'd been here for over a year now, and this had never been meant to be a permanent solution. He looked at the mid-day buzz around the circle. It hadn't all been bad, not even close. He'd come here alone and friendless, but had soon been followed by Endahren. Nightingale smiled at all the memories that thought brought. The two of them had had a good year. It lacked the excitement his life in San d'Oria had had, but it also lacked the pain.
He closed his eyes. The air smelled of city and rain. Maybe it was time for him to move on. See the world a bit. Maybe write a song or two or three. There were bound to be many subjects for songs out there, with the numbers of adventurers he'd been witnessing in Bastok and San d'Oria these past few years. Already rumors of deeds done were reaching Bastok. Rumors of disturbing events, too, rumors of beastmen rising again and the number of monsters in the increase. What kind of a bard would he be, not going out there and finding those stories to make songs from? He'd only come up with melodies for now, never words. There was nothing to write about than his own life, really, and that did not make for good song material. For the kind of song he wanted, anyway.
Endahren had said a while ago that all his loves seemed to be eager to go out there. That was quite possibly true. Nightingale wondered sometimes how he would take it, him leaving too. He seemed to encourage Nightingale to leave if that was what he wanted. He'd encouraged Ellanore too, and he was engaged to her. He seemed to genuinely want for the happiness of the people close to him. Nightingale stood up. He still wasn't sure what to do, but he guessed that was alright. There was time, plenty of it. At least until Endahren finished his business in Bastok.
Nightingale closed his eyes and sang. The sun was setting, he could feel the last warmth on his body. He sang of desperation and hope, of courage to face the death of the night by yourself, and survive. When he opened his eyes, he could not see the arid city of Bastok, but the beautiful scene of desperation and hope that existed only in his mind.
Then the song ended. With the last notes, he closed his eyes again. When he opened them again, all he saw was Bastok. The gritty reality. He bowed to the several people who had stopped to listen to him. It had been the last song for now. No matter how much he might want to immerse himself in the soothing familiarity of the songs, he was still flesh and blood, and he needed to eat. He nodded and smiled friendly to the few congratulating words he received, and gathered the gil thrown into the box he had put out for the purpose. It was enough for now.
"You sounded more sad than before, when singing that song." The quiet voice made him quickly look up from what he was doing. He knew the person.
"Endahren..." So he had come, chasing his hare-brained idea of establishing a branch in Bastok. Nightingale had told him not to. Still he had come. He looked back down and finished gathering his belongings. He hadn't wanted that.
"Ignoring me now?" That Nightingale did. He didn't wish to talk to this person, no matter how good his intentions were.
"You won't get rid of me that easy, Nightingale. We have known each other for three years now. I can't just abandon you like that, even if you tell me to." Nightingale supposed that he couldn't, at that. Sometimes, he felt the two of them were from different worlds entirely. But he kept walking, increasing his pace. Maybe another night, he would have answered. The day had been rough for him. Not enough gil, he needed to work harder. He loved his freedom, but being independent came with its own set of troubles. He didn't want to meet Endahren today.
"I'll keep following you then." The quiet voice sounded sad. It hurt Nightingale to hear that tone in Endahren's voice, but he kept walking. He feared that if he talked with the other right now, he might start crying, and not be able to stop. He couldn't take this, not right now. He silently pleaded Endahren to go away, give him time to gather his composure.
They had last seen each other in San d'Oria, and Nightingale had thought he had made it clear that Endahren's presence wasn't hoped for. Back then, he had thought it a bad mistake to tell Endahren of his plans to go to Bastok. But now, he wasn't so certain anymore. The days were lonely and long. Perhaps it had been a mistake, but a deliberate one. Perhaps, deep inside of him, a voice had called out - let him come. Please track me down.
Nightingale staggered and bit back a sob. At least he had managed to reach a less frequently used road before breaking down. He leaned against the close-by wall and tried to prevent the one sob from becoming many.
"Nightingale..." He shied back from the soft touch on his shoulder. No, no, not now. But he didn't resist when he was drawn away from the wall and to a much warmer embrace. He laid his head against Endahren's shoulder and gripped him tightly.
"It's all right. I'm here. I won't leave you." The voice, so close, made him break down. He cried, holding the other man like he would never let go. He was dimly aware of the soothing voice and arms holding him tightly, but they weren't important. This presence, it was enough. To be able to be this close again, after all those lonely nights, afraid that someone would find him, someone from his past. He had been so afraid in this strange city, always attracting attention where ever he went. Elvaan weren't too common here, he had known that from the beginning, but somehow it hadn't occurred to him just how much attention he would attract like this.
Eventually, he managed to draw in his desperation enough to stop crying. And when he did, Endahren was still there, holding him. The sun had set, leaving them in almost complete darkness. This small street did not have lamps. At the end of this street was where Nightingale lived now.
"I want to go home," he whispered hoarsely. Endahren was silent. There was nothing he could answer to that, both of them knew that he hadn't meant any place in Bastok. After a while, Nightingale withdrew from Endahren's embrace and started walking down the street again. He didn't feel like going to buy food now, not when his face bore the signs of his bout of crying. He walked to the place he lived in, and Endahren followed him. It was a good thing he was so stubborn, Nightingale thought.
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