114. Glimpse

Isaac exhaled and carefully pulled away the piping bag, leaving behind a smooth blue line of icing. An array of baked butter cookies was laid out on the table, decorated with neat, precise shapes and angles. A lightly sugary scent wafted around the kitchen, and after studying the designs a final time, he nodded with satisfaction and put the piping bag down.

“Now I just need to let them dry,” Isaac muttered to himself.

He moved the cookies onto a tray and set it aside to let the royal icing set. His eyes landed on the clock. Perfect timing. He’d go out and finish a cake delivery, then he’d be back in time to bag the cookies.

Cookies were a relatively new addition to his baking and decorating arsenal. Personally he’d always prefer cakes, but the cookies opened up a new door of potential orders, one that he admittedly needed. Stopping his visits to the Underside also meant no longer receiving pay (no matter how shady and definitely illegal that cash had been), so he’d needed to take on more jobs to make ends meet.

Isaac’s movements slowed down, and he frowned.

Even now, he’d get a strange itch whenever he passed by the subway stations. It was strange. The Underside had felt like a fever dream half the time, but now that it was no longer a part of his life, he couldn’t help but admit that there was something missing.

Isaac scowled and shook his head. Focus, he thought. There’d be no point in leaving in the first place if he just went running back right away. And besides, without his trips to the Underside, he’d, weirdly enough, started to actually converse with some of the other residents of the apartment.

Isaac carefully lifted the box and grabbed the bag of extra cake pops he’d made from the scraps, then exited the apartment and locked the door behind him.

The hallway was empty, but he’d expected that. It was a weird time of day, and the 108th street apartment wasn’t the most bustling of places to begin with. His eyes shifted to the doors on the right, and when he was three rooms down, he paused, shifted the cake box. Stepping forward, he carefully hung the bag of cake pops on the doorknob before continuing down the hall.

To be fair, “conversing” was a bit of an overstatement. He rarely actually saw the Smiths—though he heard them quite often, as the Smith children were many and loud and easily overpowered the thin apartment walls—but he’d taken to giving them his extra cake pops after a chance encounter with the youngest Smith twins.

(The best way to deal with children, Isaac had learned, was to give them food to occupy their attention.)

Isaac turned the corner and continued to the staircase, nodding at Mrs. Davis as he passed. After passing by the elderly woman so many times now, he’d finally learned her name.

Her expression didn’t shift from its usual stern countenance, but she did nod back. Neither of them stopped or said anything more. This had become their routine, one both of them were comfortable with.

And so, the Traveler continued forward and descended the stairs, the cake box balanced carefully in his arms. He could get used to this, he told himself. It was peaceful. Calm.

—

Someone had pruned the bushes circling the graveyard. Their tops had been cut into smooth, boxy shapes, but Isaac could already see a few branches beginning to grow past the artificial flatness. The formerly scraggly, chaotic bushes fit the place better, in his opinion. The whole place felt a little too exposed with the bushes half their height.

Isaac strode past the few other visitors, his feet carrying him to the back on instinct. There, a familiar headstone came into view.

The flowers Lilith had given remained strong through any and all weather. The vines curled tightly around the stone, as though protecting it, and the blossoms remained as vivid as they were the day they’d been planted and sprouted out from the ground.

Isaac’s eyes lingered on one particular flower, a golden one that looked so similar to the flowers blooming within the Golden Lands. He shook his head and sat down in front of the headstone, sighing and leaning back.

There was a pleasant, brisk wind that day, just short of being chilly enough for a jacket. Isaac inhaled the air and stretched his arms. Carrying a cake box everywhere was more tiring than it seemed; those things could get heavy.

Across the graveyard, he could hear the distant sounds of laughter. A group of children was playing tag near the edges of the space, and every now and then a particularly loud shriek or giggle would ring out. Isaac stared at the gravestone again, eyes tracing the curling letters outlining Lloyd’s name. He cleared his throat.

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“Hey.” His voice came out a little louder than he’d intended, and he cringed. It was always awkward to start out, no matter how many times he’d done it.

Isaac shifted his weight. “I’m, uh, back again. Hope you’ve been fine.”

The grave, as expected, didn’t respond. He snorted to himself and shook his head. A loud burst of laughter rang from the group of kids, and he felt his muscles relaxing.

“Did some more orders today. I think I’m starting to get the hang of cookies, but the icing keeps cracking whenever it dries. Maybe my ratios’re off or something.”

He was quiet for a few moments, letting the wind whistle past him.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I’m finally starting to get used to all of this.” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “Turns out everyone in 108’s not as much of an asshole as I thought. I guess that’s just another thing you were right about.” Isaac smiled wryly. “I mean, it’s way less crazy here than in the Underside, that’s for sure. And that’s saying something.”

Another beat passed. Isaac frowned at the headstone, surrounded by magical flowers, and released a long sigh.

“…I’m gonna have to go back at some point, aren’t I.”

The sounds of laughter faded, the children’s parents having arrived to take them home. He heard the metal gates of the graveyard creak open, then close again. A new silence settled over the rows of headstones.

“I will,” Isaac said, both to the grave and to himself. “I just need some more time to sort things out, I think. But, well, I guess that might be wishful thinking.” Some thoughts were always complicated, even when you sorted them out as much as you could. He knew that very well. Lloyd himself was an example of that.

“I’m not running away,” he muttered, and the statement came out less certain than he’d intended. Isaac shook his head and rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his pants and hands.

“Well, I’d better head back,” he said, nodding at the headstone. “I’ll be back.”

As Isaac turned to leave, for a brief second—so quick he could’ve imagined it—he thought he felt the presence of eyes on his back. A chill ran up his spine.

Isaac jerked around, head turning wildly, but the graveyard was as empty as before. There was nothing but dirt and headstones. He stared down at Lloyd’s grave again, but it remained undisturbed, the flowers pristine.

Slowly, Isaac turned again, muscles tensed, but this time there was no strange sensation, no eyes watching. He breathed. Maybe he was still high strung after what had happened the last time he was in the Underside, he thought to himself.

Still, he moved a little faster, hurrying to the subway station and eager to return to his apartment.

—

The platform was more crowded than he’d thought it would be, groups of Chrowall City residents mulling about waiting for the train. Isaac squinted up at the display. The next train would arrive in 2 minutes.

He contented himself with waiting near the end of the train. Not the last car—he wasn’t stupid—but far enough back that the car would hopefully still have empty seats. A group of college students chattered to his left, and he tuned them out as he stared at the platform.

Soon enough, a familiar rumble sounded down the tunnels, and the train came to a screeching halt. At the same time, a train pulled up on the opposite track, pausing as well. That was kind of rare, Isaac thought as he stepped through the sliding doors. Unfortunately for him, his strategy hadn’t worked this time and he was stuck standing.

The doors slid shut, and Isaac absently grabbed a nearby poll and turned to face the windows. There was a rumble across the platform, and the second train zipped past. He froze.

For a brief second, within the blurred mass of figures, he thought he caught sight of a familiar bright red streaking past. His heart raced.

No, that hadn’t been a trick of the light. He hadn’t imagined those eyes, either.

When the train finally stopped, Isaac practically ran out the doors, pushing past the crowd in his hurry to get out of the station. His feet pounded against the concrete street, the sky overcast above him. In the corner of the block, the 108th street apartment stood as worn and shabby as ever, the dull red bricks made even more grey by the clouds.

Isaac ran up the creaking staircase, heart thumping. With anxiety, excitement, or trepidation, he didn’t know.

The door to his apartment came into view, and he fumbled with his keys, missing the keyhole at first. Finally, the door opened with a click, and he slammed it open.

The apartment was empty.

His cookies sat undisturbed on their tray, piping bags still strewn about the counter. The monochrome furniture hadn’t been touched, and the chairs around the table remained as vacant as always.

His gaze swept the grey walls again. Had he been wrong after all?

Isaac exhaled. His shoulders slumped, and he was made acutely aware of just how fast he’d sprinted here. His breaths were coming short, and he forced his breathing to steady again as he stepped inside and towards the table.

The door clicked shut behind him. Footsteps approached.

Not a second later, a very familiar voice drawled out.

“Yo.”

Isaac turned and met the eyes of a certain other Traveler. Their long red scarf dragged behind them, the same color as their gloves, and they had on those dark sunglasses as usual. Isaac felt weirdly calm as he met their gaze. After so long away from the Underside, there was something almost comforting about seeing someone from there again.

“Fable. What’re you doing here?”

They grinned, cocking their head to the side in an action that was all too familiar.

“I’ve got a message for you.”