//------------------------------// // Three: Homestuck? // Story: Close Enough to Touch: The Lyra Account // by LysanderasD //------------------------------// 3: Homestuck? “What?” I was fairly certain my heart had just stopped for a moment. “Don’t you what me,” Grandma snapped. “You’re not leaving.” “What? But... but what do you mean?” I pushed myself out of the chair with some difficulty, and once on the floor I took a few steps toward her, trying to stand as tall as I could. She’s only about five foot six--the same height I’d been, really--but now I felt tiny in comparison, and I could tell from the look in her eyes that she knew it. I saw her jaw move for a moment, although she kept her mouth shut and her lips pressed tightly together, gathering her words. “This... all of this,” and she gestured, first at me, and then out around her, as if indicating the whole equine state of affairs, “is too big for me, and it’s too big for you. I...” She grimaced. “There’s something going on, I’m willing to acknowledge that. And if those Elements of Harmony are the key to defeating this... Discord, then by all means, let them get to New York. If one of them passed this way I’d certainly help them.” “But I--” “You are not important.” I flinched. She seemed to realize what she’d just said and lost some of her angry momentum. “Travis, I didn’t mean it like that. You are important. Just... not to all of this. How do you think the parents of those Elements feel, I ask you?” “Well it probably depends on the parent,” I pointed out. Her response was an unamused glare, and I had to try not to roll my eyes. “They’re probably worried,” I said instead, supplying her with what she wants to hear. “Exactly,” she said smugly. “And I am not going to put you in any danger by sending you on some wacky journey up along the east coast if I don’t have you. You, Travis-Lyra-Heartstrings-whatever-your-name-is-now, you’re staying right here.” I really couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I glared at her, but she glared back, and I took an involuntary step backward, looking over my shoulder. Grandpa was very carefully avoiding my eyes. So when it came down to it, no real help in the end, huh. I sent one more acid look Grandma’s way, but she didn’t so much as flinch. “Fine,” I said, and worked my way back up the stairs with as much dignity as I can manage. Someone else might have stayed to argue with her. Someone else would have, in all likelihood, failed. Grandma is intelligent, but she has succumbed to her rut much more quickly than Grandpa has.  I mean to say, she is perfectly comfortable in what she knows works, and anything that’s outside of her little sphere of comfort is by its very nature wrong and nothing short of a miracle will convince her otherwise. It fuels her compulsive rejection of anything that isn’t Internet Explorer, and whenever a new version of a program she uses has an interface overhaul, she flips. It isn’t just technology, but those are the simplest examples off of the top of my head. This whole pony affair was, ha, by its very nature, far, far outside of her comfort zone, and I should have, I think, been glad that she didn’t just throw me out to begin with. I understood her logic, then, in wanting to keep me safe. Under normal circumstances, I would probably have agreed with her--although let’s not argue about semantics, about how if these were normal circumstances I wouldn’t need to go anywhere. At its root, her argument was an emotional one, though, and I had no way to defuse that. From her perspective, there was no reason for me to go to New York. Technically speaking, there probably was no reason for me to have to go in any case. I could have stayed right here for the whole thing--let it all pass me by, following my grandmother’s orders and being a “good boy.” That was what she expected of me. Honestly, that was what I’d come to expect from myself. After the whole affair with my stepmother, Grandma took the time to earn my respect and my trust and I came to love and obey her for it. From the time I’d moved in with my grandparents I’d done nothing but be the obedient loyal grandson. Part of me still wanted to. She’s right. This is too big for us. But if I didn’t go... I’d made one too many mistakes in my life. Too many opportunities for something great have slipped through my... well, my fingers, I guess. Too many chances not taken. Yes, I was scared. Oh man I was scared, just thinking about this made me shake. If I did this on my terms, where would I go? To whom would I turn? I didn’t know anyone nearby who’d have been, well, understanding about this. Unicorn or no, I didn’t find the idea of walking up to Huntersville to get to Joshua very appealing, and taking a cab or a bus would’ve just been awkward. Not that Joshua would’ve been a great deal of help. He enjoyed ponies, sure, but he was the sort that wouldn’t take this seriously and if there was one thing I needed right now it was for people to take this seriously because let me tell you having four hooves isn’t something you should joke about. But I had to do something. Something. I couldn’t just sit here and let this pass me by. I just... couldn’t. As much as I wanted to. Whether it was by chance or some greater power--and I had a momentary chuckle envisioning Discord hovering over my sleeping form and snapping his talons--ha! as if--I was Lyra, or I had Lyra’s body at least, and I refused to see that as an invitation to sit back and do nothing. So now all I needed to do is... wait for a chance to get away. That was simple enough. Grandma went to work on Monday morning, and I slipped out before Grandpa got back from dropping her off... “Travis?” Grandma knocked at my doorframe, and the tone of voice she used to call my name had more hesitance in it than I was entirely comfortable hearing. Still, what was today if not an uncomfortable day? I turned toward the door and sat on my haunches, and my face fell into a carefully-neutral expression. She wasn’t standing in the room proper; I honestly think she was afraid to come in. One of her hands gripped the doorframe so hard her hand started to go pale, and the expression on her face was full of such sickeningly sweet reassurance, it nearly made me ill. “Is everything... alright?” She’s treating me like a time bomb with one minute left on the counter. I kept my face neutral, but on the inside I was scowling. “I’m fine.” I could see she didn’t believe it, and the flat tone I used cut all the deeper for not being my own voice. Still, she swallowed and took one hesitant step into the room. I remained where I was seated. The silence was almost delicious for how tense it was. I berated myself for feeling happy about my grandmother’s discomfort... but in a way it was satisfying. “Well,” she said, finally, and cleared her throat before continuing, arms crossed defensively in front of herself. “Well, if you’re okay, then, then I need to go and, and get some shopping done. Grandpa got the groceries, but I... You don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” she said, changing courses. Unsaid but implicit was I’d rather not have you come along like that. ... Surely it wasn’t that simple. “No,” I said carefully. “I think I’ll stay here.” Her smile this time was shaky with relief. “Ah! Alright! Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll be back in a little while. If  you get hungry there are still apples. We’ll try to pick up something else while we’re out, so, um.” She had been trying to unobtrusively back out of my room the entire time. Obviously this hadn’t evaded me, but I chose not to comment on it. Honestly... I couldn’t blame her. I really couldn’t. This was too much for her. As she turned to leave, I felt a rush of sympathy for her that had been sorely missing this whole time. “Grandma?” She froze, halfway out of my vision, and slowly, almost cautiously, leaned her head back to look at me. “Y-yes, sweetie?” Something inside me stirred awake at the nickname. I ignore it. “I love you.” And just like that the tension in the air seemed to dissipate. Not entirely; it wasn’t like three words could change the fact that I was not who I had been yesterday. But I could see her sag, just a bit, relaxing, and the smile that formed on her face next was a sincere one. “I love you too, Travis.” And then she stepped out of view, and I could hear her descending down the stairs. It was a new house. We were the first family to live in this unit. But even though it was not a decade old yet, several spots on the upper floor had already started to show signs of wear and tear. It might be most succinct to say that the company that built our community is now bankrupt. Not that I hadn’t done my fair share of abusing the stairs; I’d rocketed up and down those stairs more times than I care to count. It’d gotten to the point where I could tell where on the steps someone was just by the sound their feet made as they came up, if they didn’t know how or didn’t care to avoid the noisy spots. I actually listened to her descend, and as she went down, I could feel my heart following her. When the front door slammed and the van outside rumbled to tired life and they pulled away, it finally came back, and this time it was lined with iron. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the wind, and then I blurred into motion. 10:30 AM EST I’d packed with the efficiency born of too many early mornings before long flights. I didn’t exactly have any saddlebags, and the dufflebag in the office’s closet would have been too awkward to keep balanced. In the end, I found myself left with the dependable old school backpack, which had served me well since tenth grade and would now rest upon the mint-colored back of Lyra Heartstrings. Probably not the best option, of course, but given the circumstances it was the only option I had. Laptop and cables. Food for... well, for at least one day. Other knickknacks and little necessities. Settled in the small pocket at the very back (or, I suppose, on the very top) was a Beanie Baby. Now, Paws is a very special Beanie Baby, before you make any judgments. She’s.. well, it’s hard to explain, but the simple version is that she’s on loan from a friend, and I promised I’d keep her safe until I saw this friend in person again. Probably it would have been safer to leave her behind, but as I held her up in front of my face, the small, well-worn and well-loved brown cat seemed to touch something deep down and I knew without a doubt that I had to bring her with me, as a little memento of safer times, if nothing else. You can make your judgments now. Alright, if that’s everything.... A breeze blew in from the open window, and I could feel it breaking against my unfamiliar body shape and sending my mane and tail fluttering. It wasn’t cold, not really--I’ve lived in Minnesota, so I’ve got a pretty good idea of cold--but it carried the certain creeping kind of chill that told me that spending too much time out in the wind wouldn’t be pleasant all the same. If only I had... aha! The closet doors slid open. They used to glide, silently and quite smoothly, but much like the staircase they aged far too rapidly and now they stuck and whined as they rolled along their tracks. It was a new house, but it feels ancient. “Where did I leave... aha, yes!” It was an old grey hoodie. I figured while I was being nostalgic with Paws I could afford to be nostalgic with the hoodie, too, and it was small enough that it fit, although I had to kind of bunch up the sleeves. That was okay. I could live with that. I say nostalgic, but it wasn’t like this was some old family hoodie or anything. No, actually I’d gotten it in my sophomore year of high school from my Animal Science teacher of all people. Mr. Le Cour was an... interesting man, to say the least, and the hoodie had been left behind by another student and it fit me and rather like that it had become mine. Whoever owned it never came back for it. But it fit me, or it had fit me, just perfectly, and I’d worn it everywhere. I was looking forward to using it during the colder months. Well, now I guess I would anyway. The hood didn’t much like my head, and the arms were a little too long, but that was okay. It was nothing big. I could deal with that. Still, by the time I was all wrapped up and packed up and standing at the front door, I hesitated, just a little. “I don’t have to do this.” There was a pause. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, carefully, and deliberately. Too many chances lost. Not this one. Not today. Today I took the chance I’d been given. No regrets. I was going to see this through. As I opened the door into the blinding morning sunlight, I swore I can hear a voice in the back of my head cheering for me.