Work Text:
Boris wondered when his turn was coming. It's not like he was terrified of his turn coming, hardly; he doubted his turn would be as bad as Bono's or Finn's. He hadn't lost anyone close to him, thankfully, so what did he have to worry about?
It's not like anyone knew what happened to the Capo dei capi; his turn would be fine, surely.
Speaking of Bono, it was weird to not hear him loudly complaining. Usually, he and Pete would have gotten into some kind of debate that would only stop once one of them noticed Vergilius glaring at them from across the bus.
Boris glanced over at him. He was sitting quietly, staring at the floor. Pete was sitting awkwardly to one side of him, and Philip at the other; neither of them made any attempt to talk to him.
Philip occasionally looked over at him, but mostly just sat there, sword resting by his wing.
Pete was no better; he kept his gaze locked on the window, occasionally tapping his finger against his leg.
Boris was half-tempted to go over and talk to Bono himself; he wasn't exactly sure why...It was probably just because Bono's silence was weird. Yeah, that was it.
Turns out Boris didn't have to, as Philip got a look of realisation on his face as he turned and shook Bono's arm.
"Huh? What? Is something wrong?" Philip shook his head and signed something Boris couldn't make out; either way, it got Bono's attention.
"Oh, yeah, that's today." Bono replied.
Pete looked over and smiled. "Suppose you'll be marathoning Agatha's books again?"
"Why are you saying it like it's a bad thing?" Bono huffed. Pete let out a chuckle.
"You do it every year."
"So? It's my birthday! I can do what I want!"
Philip covered his mouth, but his shaking shoulders gave away the silent laughter he was trying to hide.
Boris leaned against the window, letting his shoulders relax, now that he had something to focus on.
Something that wasn't the impending dread of his turn coming up.
"I'm still missing that one." Huh? Boris looked back over at Bono. Oh, he must have spaced out for a second.
Whatever Bono was missing made Philip look surprised. "What are you looking at me like that for?" Philip signed something again. "I never found it, it was her first ever novel, so I guess it's just rare."
Bono let out another sigh.
Oh, he's talking about that novel. Boris looked out the window at the colourless streets of T Corp. He thought about everything they'd seen, and everything that the golden boughs had dragged out of Bono.
He knew where he could get the novel, if only...
The bus came to a familiar screeching halt before Boris could finish his thought. Vergilius stood up, and Boris smiled.
Looks like his prayers were answered after all.
-------------
Boris knocked on the door and waited. He heard the sound of shuffling inside before Bono opened the door.
"Why are you here?" Boris gave him a grin.
"I heard it was your birthday today. I got you a present." Bono stared at him for a moment.
"Wait. You got me a gift?" Bono sounded shocked, which made Boris frown.
"Of course I did, we're coworkers." Boris pulled the book from behind his back.
Bono looked at it for a second before grabbing it from Boris's hands.
"You found The Styles Murderous House?!"
"Yup, first edition too."
"Holy shit, thank you! I've been looking for this book for years!" Bono rushed back into his room, and Boris took the opportunity to poke his head in.
He spotted the large pile of Agatha books sitting on a dresser near a bed. Bono quickly placed Bori's present on top of the pile.
"You a big Agatha fan?" Boris casually asked from the doorway.
"I've loved her novels ever since I was a kid, my brother used to make fun of me for it..." Bono trailed off, the air becoming solemn along with the silence.
Ah, shit. Boris couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, even if he didn't do anything to cause it.
"I'm sorry about your brother." Bono didn't turn around; he just sighed and sat down on the bed.
"It happens. It's The City."
"It doesn't make it any easier."
Bono didn't say anything for a moment, he just stared at his hands again. Eventually, after what felt like hours, he spoke.
"Thanks for the book. I appreciate it."
Boris nodded. "Course, Happy Birthday." He was about to step away, but he decided to say one more thing. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm happy to listen."
He didn't get a response, nor did he expect one; he just slipped out the doorway and closed the door on his way out.