The King of Crows

A Lesson to Learn

"What..?" I looked over to Phil, not a single part of his body was calming down as he listened to Tommy speak his question. Our hands were no longer connected but I continued to try and calm him down to the best of my abilities. Which wasn't a lot, but hey! I tried at least. "Her first name is Evelyn?"

"Correct," Tommy huffed out, much quietly this time. Not wanting anyone around them to hear before his voice returned back to its usual volume. Which was loud. "But how did you even know? Em's name isn't that common."

"It is hard to explain," Phil responded, the three of us slowly walking again. He let out a sigh, dropping his shoulders in the process. He seemed to be calmer but I could tell he wasn't. I knew it. "I thoroughly wish I could tell you and have you understand it in the process of speaking it. But alas, I can not. I wish I could though my dear son..."

I could barely hear him say the last sentence, he mumbled it out almost under his breath. Though it seemed Tommy barely heard him as well; his head whipped in our direction, glaring at the king wide eyed as he processed what he could barely make out. I kept a hold of Phil's hand again, though this time he had a little bit of trouble with returning the action. What with his mind being in a completely different place and all.

"Son..?" Tommy's voice faintly hit our ears, the sound of loud, overlapping chatters nearly drowning him out entirely. I could feel Phil's grip begin to tighten again, using my other hand I gently rubbed his wrist. Thankfully, for the sake of my bones again, feeling his grip slowly loosen back to its original state. "Sorry, I already have a dad. You're not my dad - I barely know you anyway!"

I squeaked. Again. My hand was being crushed like a dog leash being held on a run. It fucking hurt! I should've expected it too, but no. Apparently not. Turning over to look at Phil, I noticed his demeanour had soured quite quickly from what Tommy said. Don't blame him either; the, supposed, reincarnation of Theseus just said that Phil wasn't his dad. I'd be heartbroken as well.

"O-Oh, I am one to say that," Phil chuckled, trying his hardest to cover for himself. I kept my hands wrapped around his own, I really didn't know what to say throughout this. And honestly, I don't think I wanted to say anything.

"But you're only... thirty? Yeah, you look around thirty."

"You are much younger than me though," Phil continued to ramble. I cringed inside at the feeling of his sweat melting into my hand; I really wanted to fling my hand away from his, but I couldn't do that to him. He was already upset.

The three of us began to walk again, catching up to George and Wilbur who had stopped far ahead to wait for us. Thankfully for us, we didn't need to push through a crowd of people since all the strangers were busy with other things of importance. When we got over towards the two men, George was staring at us three. Tilting his head with a small glare as his arms were crossed underneath his chest.

"What took you so long?"

"Sorry; Tommy, Phil and I were having a small chat," I awkwardly answered, glancing at the two before looking back at George again. His demeanour hadn't changed much, the only difference now was that his head wasn't tilted a little to the side. It was now straight. "Got a bit caught up, and forgot to continue walking. You know how it is. Right?"

"I guess I can't argue there," Wilbur shrugged, giving into defeat with a small smile on his lips. He turned on his heel, continuing his walk to the house we all had decided to venture to. All while still holding that camera, like it was a regular exercise for him. I'm impressed. "Come on you guys! I ain't gonna be standing around again for a second time now!"

"Okay! Okay!" George cried out with a laugh, jogging over to Wilbur while we three just continued to walk. Again. I finally took my hand off Phil's, wiping the sweat that had gathered on my clothed thigh. I hated it so much. I don't think I ever want to experience that again. And it seemed Philza was thinking the same thing, as when I took a quick glance at him he was quickly, almost dramatically, wiping the sweat on his own hand onto his trousers. At least I wasn't the only one dying inside from the transaction of sweat we had to go through.