Oz and Henry had a problem. These had been something they often shared when it was something external like the gas getting cut off, or there being a Sketchy Dude on the corner. Lately, it had more felt like Oz had problems, and Henry had problems that were mostly Oz. Over Christmas though, Mom had voiced her intentions to make every effort possible to come to their school concert. No amount of assurances that she didn't have to or that they might not even be in it had dented her enthusaism. He wasn't sure how aware Henry was of this being a problem. It wasn't definite that Mom would get time off, so he supposed it wasn't a problem yet but it might be one. Especially as her supervisors were pretty nice.
She had promised to send confirmation by the requested date, and as Oz sat at the Pecari table, an owl fluttered over, dropping a letter addressed to him and Henry. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but somehow they usually managed to arrive at the end of a meal, when the two of them were already on their way out. He supposed he could tuck it in his bag until later, but he was very aware that it was not his but theirs. He wasn't used to having things that were theirs in his possession. It made him feel wriggly and wrong. Henry could be trusted with important joint things like house keys, amd things that were to be shared stayed where they both could reach them. Henry couldn't reach something that was at Pecari table. Oz couldn't share it easily with him when he was at Crotalus table.
He shuffled out of his seat, feeling self-conscious but reasoning that surely anyone could figure out what was going on, and that he wasn't going to go sit at the wrong table. He made his way over to where Henry was sitting, pre-emptively holding out the letter before he was even close, and stopping slightly further back than was normal, as if staying out of the table's personal space.
"It's to both of us," he informed Henry. "What do you wanna do about it?"
Henry was part way through a slice of pizza - still one of his favorite foods despite the fact that there was a wide buffet (literally) of options available now - when his brother approached, looking like he'd rather be doing anything else. There was a letter in his hand and Henry recognized their mom's handwriting, shaping their names next to each other like she'd done so many times throughout their lives. Those names belonged next to each other. It was almost weirder to hear 'Henry' or 'Oz' without there being an 'and' between them.
"Open it probably," Henry replied, scooting over to make room for Oz to sit with him. He did it automatically, as if it was the most natural thing to sit together, because it was. It really was. Even though it wasn't at all now. "Together I mean," he added a little more . . . it wasn't awkwardly exactly, but it was quieter, as if he thought he was more likely to be laughed at or scorned or something.
Together was a big word for a small thing that suddenly, over the past few years, had felt very big. As if the meaning were catching up with all the letters. He did like to think he wouldn't get laughed at for thinking it might be okay for them to do this together, but he wasn't entirely sure and that was a terrible feeling, even if he wouldn't say as much.
OOC: Previous interaction with Henry agreed with his author BIC:
"Well, yeah, I know that," Oz replied, sounding slightly irritated when Henry said they should open the letter together. What else were they gonna do with it? Spread jelly on it and eat it for breakfast? The question was less 'what' and more where, when, how? Well, not so much 'how?' - that was probably still just 'with their hands like regular people.'
Henry seemed to have an unexpected answer for 'where/when?' in that the way he was shuffling over suggested 'here/now.' Oz stared at the vast gulf between him and Henry, and the space next to him that was simply impossible to occupy. It was the second time Henry had suggested breaking this particular rule. He had come over earlier in the term when Oz had been eating alone at Pecari and asked, just about as timidly as Oz would suggest Henry to speak when suggesting breaking a rule, whether he could sit there. An Oz had told him 'no' like it was freaking obvious because of course it should have been. Wasn't Henry the one who thought they would get turned into matchboxes or whatever for breaking the rules? Of course, Oz had told him that Professor C-X had said that wouldn't happen, but it still seemed unlike Henry to want to break a rule. So, why was he suggesting it? Oz ignored the part of his heart that that tugged on, that said Henry missed him that much. It probably wasn't that. Maybe he was so used to Oz being in trouble that he thought a little more wouldn't hurt. Maybe he just didn't realise. Perhaps he was so used to being the good boy that he couldn't imagine anything else. Maybe he was so used to looking at the ways Oz could get into trouble he never stopped to think about how situations could backfire on him too. The the whole Magic Twins problem came swimming back to his mind. That was how Henry sae the world, and the card had been wrong. It was gonna be half the damage if they got into things together...
"But it's your house's table," he pointed out. And he still might not have minded had it not been for one thing. "You might get in trouble too. For letting me."
Henry blinked, surprised. Oz' initial snideness was not surprising, but his hesitation about getting Henry in trouble was, not least because Henry was very sure it wouldn't get him in trouble. He glanced around the room, pointing vaguely at other people who were not sitting at their own table. "That's just for big feasts," he said. "You can sit wherever you want the rest of the time."
It was tempting to think that maybe that was why Oz had so adamantly refused to let Henry sit with him before but he wasn't sure if that was a thing he could safely believe. Things that were tempting were rarely safe and tempting beliefs were the top of the list, like how it was tempting to believe that their father really was a powerful wizard who had lots of money and was going to come give mom everything she ever deserved, or like how it was tempting to believe that going to Sonora would make everything better and they'd be able to get through this whole thing unscathed. Those weren't safe beliefs because believing them was just going to hurt in the long run, and believing them would keep them from doing real things. Like how believing that Oz actually secretly wanted him around would just keep Henry from respecting his brother's reputation and boundaries and staying away from him.
"So do you want to sit?" he asked, returning his gaze to his brother. "Or do you want me to pack up and we can go outside or something?"
“What?” Oz stated, his mouth falling open slightly as Henry explained about the seats, and pointed out several other people doing just that. When had that been mentioned? Did everyone just know that? What the heck? Had he and Henry spent most of a year sitting apart for no reason? Well, no, clearly not ‘no reason.’ Henry knew and they still hadn’t sat together, so the reason was whatever was stopping Henry wanting to. Which was him. He was the reason. He’d told Henry to go away and Henry had assumed that he’d, well, meant ‘go away.’ Because he said that a lot…
“Yeah,” he confirmed, sliding into the seat beside Henry before the second option was even out of his twin’s mouth. Oh yeah. They could also have done that. That would have been cool… But he didn’t really care, they could do that another time anyway.
He grabbed a slice of pizza, dumping it on Henry’s plate and dragging it over so it sat in between them - the force of a habit created to save on doing extra dishes. He only didn’t share a plate with Henry when he was being like… the biggest butthole possible. Which he had to admit, was more often than he wanted to, but he couldn’t help it. It didn’t occur to him that he could have something other than pizza. For all that he was very much into not copying, at home they ate what they were given, which was usually the same. Even when it was a mish-mash of left-overs and whatever, then they usually took half of each thing each. His decisions were not conscious. It wasn’t an attempt at shrinking this big, baffling world down to some representation of home - it was just habit. This was what eating dinner looked like.
He searched for the words to say that he had missed this, and they were supposed to have dinner together, and that he was sorry, yet again, for being the stupid screw up and messing things up.
“Oi,” he said, smacking Henry’s hand away from the fries that were on their plate, “Share.”
Mom often compared him to a puppy (not when anyone else except Henry could hear cos that would have been so embarrassing) because he tended to bounce all over people when he was pleased to see them. Mom got plenty of puppy energy, though Henry had more usually had Oz glad to see the back of him lately. He wanted to bounce Henry now. He thought he could actually go as far as licking Henry’s face and not feel weird about it. He didn’t, because people were watching, but as far as it was possible for a person to bounce and wag whilst staying entirely in their seat and lacking a tail, he was doing both those things.
“Guess we should see what mom wants,” he added, holding the envelope between them and starting to rip from his end, racing Henry to the middle. “If she’s coming to the concert, are we gonna like… be in it? If she goes to all that effort and it’s like ‘Hi Mom, you should super admire that third three from the right, I painted that sucker,’ it’s gonna be a bit of a let down. But I bet all the stories are gross and about princess stuff,” he aired the problem he’d been thinking about. He had, for once, foreseen a problem, which he thought was a start. But Henry was way better at solving them.
Oz sat. It felt normal and comfortable and easy and Henry moved automatically to pour his brother a glass of milk because that's what he was drinking just as Oz pulled their now shared plate to a spot in between them. It felt right and he even almost smiled when Oz smacked his hand away from their fries, because it had been the first time he'd been told to share in a very long time. He shoved some of the fries towards each side of their plate, even though there really weren't sides, and broke one of the long ones in half to give them each a piece of it. Mom always did that at home, even though it was silly. Maybe because it was silly. She'd do it with candy bars sometimes too. Every once in a while, she'd split it in half by biting the middle out and say it was her ATM fee for dividing their goods, even though that's totally not what ATMs did. Henry would have really loved to give her the middle bite of the fry just then, but he kind of also felt a little bit like when he and Oz were younger and they'd sit up in their room at night and the same bed, eating snacks and reading a book or something. It was nice.
Oz even seemed to think it was nice, although Henry wasn't sure if his brother's energy was contagious or if he was projecting his own contented happiness. In any case, it was good to sit with Oz again. Henry had always felt like he was a bit of a cat, quiet and reserved and the only signs of his feelings were little tail flicks, ear angles, and maybe if he was really happy, he'd purr. Except he wouldn't really purr of course because that would be weird. At home, with mom, his likeness to a cat also appeared when he just wanted to nuzzle up against her shoulder and cuddle on the couch, perfectly happy to get any sort of attention as long as it was from someone he wanted attention from. The rest of the time, he'd rather go unnoticed. He wasn't about to rub up against Oz' shoulder, but he thought that maybe if he'd been able to, he would have been purring.
Henry lost the race to the middle of the envelope but he managed to get the letter out of the torn paper before Oz did - although sometimes he knew Oz didn't try because this way Henry could deal with whatever was inside envelopes and sometimes envelopes had scary stuff in them - and he was unfolding it when Oz brought up the concert. Henry grimaced and nodded, agreeing.
"Better be a good tree?" he suggested, entirely not wanting to perform in an actual show. Also, Oz was right: princesses. "Maybe we could suggest something? I know they wanted more participation a while back so maybe they need more ideas? Or maybe one of them isn't terrible? Mom would probably like it if we were dressed up as the third tree from the right better than if we just painted it at least?" Their old school would have been thrilled if he and Oz had wanted to be in a play of some sort because how cool was the sort of stage magic you could work up with twins in the cast, but Henry was pretty sure that Sonora wouldn't need any of that sort of trickery and it wasn't like Oz and Henry were exactly identical anymore. At least, not unless they tried at it. "I don't know any magic stories that wouldn't probably sound really lame to them though," he added, automatically lumping he and Oz against the rest of the world. 'Them' was the other, the dangerous, the ones who didn't understand, even if, in this case, he and Oz were part of the magical 'them' now.
The letter now opened, Henry held it between them, automatically keeping half an eye out on his brother so he'd know when Oz was done and he should turn it over in case mom had written anything on the back.