How, he thought numbly as he stared at his own green complexion in the mirror, did Gordon handle this?
Gordon hadn't had a daughter. Gordon just had a friend who was a skeleton. Every writer needed a writing aid, Des supposed.
His head was starting to swim, a feeling which almost seemed to pound down into his ears and settle somewhere down in his throat. He couldn't handle this. Gordon was built for it; he'd never, for one second in his entire life, stopped believing in magic. So he was the one who met the skeleton, and became friends with him. He was the one who could handle it, who wanted to handle it, and who could write bestselling books about it. Not Des. Des wasn't built for this. Des couldn't handle this.
He took several long minutes to watch his skin tone slowly return to normal; then Des splashed some cold water on his face, washed his hands, and went back outside. Skulduggery had explained the whole thing away already, and no one was lingering at the table. Grateful for small mercies, Des sat back down across from him and wondered what else he was supposed to say. He wasn't usually at such a loss for words.
"It's perfectly fine to be jealous," said Skulduggery.
Suddenly, there were too many words right on the tip of his tongue, all tripping their way out of Des's mouth. "You - what - how dare - do you - jealous of who?"
"Of Gordon."
The words stopped. Des stared. "Me? Jealous of Gordon?"
"Of course. You grew up on stories of magic. You believed you'd outgrown it, moved past it, that you were stronger than your older brother, whom you'd always looked up to before then. You believed he needed help. But you never lost that spark, that hope, that maybe he was right. It was alright to have that hope, because even though it was shameful, it couldn't possibly ever come to pass. Now it has, and you're wondering what else you've missed out on. You're hurt that Gordon never told you the truth, that you've been living a life you might never have had to live, and a part of you thinks it's unfair that he's the one who got to experience all of this when you're the one who made all the right choices. You're so jealous of him that you literally turned green with envy. It's perfectly natural."
Silence descended. Des tried to think, and failed. Eventually, all he said was "You must be a blast at parties."
"I observe. Gordon told me stories, Stephanie told me stories, and the rest isn't a very large leap."
"You act like..."
"Like I don't care enough about individual people?" Impossibly, Skulduggery smiled. "So I've been told."
no subject
Gordon hadn't had a daughter. Gordon just had a friend who was a skeleton. Every writer needed a writing aid, Des supposed.
His head was starting to swim, a feeling which almost seemed to pound down into his ears and settle somewhere down in his throat. He couldn't handle this. Gordon was built for it; he'd never, for one second in his entire life, stopped believing in magic. So he was the one who met the skeleton, and became friends with him. He was the one who could handle it, who wanted to handle it, and who could write bestselling books about it. Not Des. Des wasn't built for this. Des couldn't handle this.
He took several long minutes to watch his skin tone slowly return to normal; then Des splashed some cold water on his face, washed his hands, and went back outside. Skulduggery had explained the whole thing away already, and no one was lingering at the table. Grateful for small mercies, Des sat back down across from him and wondered what else he was supposed to say. He wasn't usually at such a loss for words.
"It's perfectly fine to be jealous," said Skulduggery.
Suddenly, there were too many words right on the tip of his tongue, all tripping their way out of Des's mouth. "You - what - how dare - do you - jealous of who?"
"Of Gordon."
The words stopped. Des stared. "Me? Jealous of Gordon?"
"Of course. You grew up on stories of magic. You believed you'd outgrown it, moved past it, that you were stronger than your older brother, whom you'd always looked up to before then. You believed he needed help. But you never lost that spark, that hope, that maybe he was right. It was alright to have that hope, because even though it was shameful, it couldn't possibly ever come to pass. Now it has, and you're wondering what else you've missed out on. You're hurt that Gordon never told you the truth, that you've been living a life you might never have had to live, and a part of you thinks it's unfair that he's the one who got to experience all of this when you're the one who made all the right choices. You're so jealous of him that you literally turned green with envy. It's perfectly natural."
Silence descended. Des tried to think, and failed. Eventually, all he said was "You must be a blast at parties."
"I observe. Gordon told me stories, Stephanie told me stories, and the rest isn't a very large leap."
"You act like..."
"Like I don't care enough about individual people?" Impossibly, Skulduggery smiled. "So I've been told."
"Green with envy," said Des weakly. "Nice touch."
"Thank you. I thought so."