Page 18 of The Other Side

“What the fuck? Okay, fine.” Paul scowled, stamping off around the corner toward the car park. A few moments later, his Audi roared past in a blur of angry taillights.

Osian knew what Paul had been hoping for tonight, but Osian had always made it clear he didn’t do more than one night with anyone. He really should have used his magic to make Paul forget their encounter last year. He regretted that oversight.

He let Forget! slide after the speeding car, though it was probably too far away now.

When Drum finally emerged from the pub, he stopped short, his eyes widening slightly and to Osian’s horror there was fear on his face.

“Are you waiting for me?” Drum asked.

“Yes.” For years. Forever. Always.

Drum tilted his head, sizing him up. “Do I know you?”

Osian offered a soft, bittersweet chuckle. “That’s complicated.”

“Complicated usually means yes.”

“It is a yes. You knew me.”

Drum’s expression instantly sharpened, the professional guard kicking in. “Past tense?”

“Because you don’t remember me,” Osian said softly.

For a split second, sheer panic flashed across Drum’s face, and Osian felt a surge of horror for having caused it. But the vulnerability was instantly swallowed by defensive suspicion.

“No,” Drum said flatly. “I don’t. Should I?”

“I knew you a long time ago. We played together as boys.” They’d been joined at the hip. Osiandrum was one word called by Osian’s mother when she wanted them to come back.

That was clearly a more acceptable, grounded answer. The rigid tension bled from Drum’s shoulders, though Osian knew it wouldn’t stay away for long, not with what he was going to say.

“Were you in one of the care homes? Or a school I went to?” Drum stared at him, searching his features. “There were several. I don’t remember you. How old was I?”

“I met you when we were six. We were inseparable until we were ten. You used to sneak out of your house to come and sleep in my bed. We played together, went to school together. Got into trouble together. But I hadn’t seen you again until tonight.”

Drum inhaled sharply. Even in the dim ambient light from the pub, Osian saw the colour drain completely from his face. He stared as though the ground had just opened up beneath their feet.

“What the hell?” Drum shook his head hard, trying to clear it. “I don’t remember anything before I was ten.”

“You were made to forget.” It was only a guess but what other explanation could there be?

“Made to?” Drum took off his cap and dragged his fingers through his hair before putting his cap on again. “I don’t understand.”

Tires hissed against the damp tarmac of a distant road. Behind them, Bill locked the heavy pub door with a loud, final click.

Drum stared with a desperate, searching intensity. “You were my friend?”

“Best friend.”

The words were laughably inadequate. They didn’t cover the endless summers roaming the countryside. The dens they made. The way they collected berries. The horses they rode. Gathering seeds for Osian to grow flowers. They didn’t cover the blood promise they’d made to be there for each other forever, to never forget, to be friends until they died. The blood promise Osian had kept even if Drum hadn’t been allowed to. They certainly didn’t cover the years Osian had spent hoping, waiting for a ghost, unable to give up, always wearing the bracelet with the dandelion seed caught in the amber of pine resin. They’d found the pieces of amber together. Begged Osian’s mother for chains to hold them. Exchanged them. Bespelled them as best they could as ten-year-old boys.

“Best friends,” Drum echoed hollowly. “And you recognise me from when I was ten?”

Osian nodded and something fractured in Drum’s expression, a mixture of pain, anger and heavy confusion. It was the exact same scowl he’d worn as a child whenever adults told him something he didn’t want to hear. Come in now, Drum. Don’t touch that. Don’t bring that creature into the house. Do as you’re told. Right this minute! You’re such a bad boy.

“What’s my name?” Drum asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Osian’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Tadhg Drummond. But you were always Drum to me and everyone else.”