"The smallest changes are the most significant."

"Tyler, you are coming with me tonight, right?"

The boy looks up from his place on the couch. Or rather, his place on the floor. With his shoulder now healed, he sits upside down with his legs kicked up on the sofa cushions and upper back resting on the floor. In his hands is a newspaper from a few days ago, the title making it apparent as to why he's reading it: 'Dragon Spotted in Arcadia Skies!'

"Reluctantly," he says, folding the paper neatly before flipping back on his feet. "I 'ave no choice in the matter."

Barbara chuckles, "No, you don't."

"Sèid. Bha mi an dòchas weasel a-mach às," Tyler mutters, dropping the newspaper on the coffee table.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" he assures hurriedly, straightening his jacket. He's found that he rather dislikes his frequent visits to the hospital—yet another unfortunate result of his amnesia. Routine trips like the one scheduled for this evening are just simple check ups to see if he's regained any memories or lost more recent ones. Annoying for a student that still has to catch up on a year and a half's worth of education.

A pair of quickening footsteps makes him step aside to allow his foster-brother to pass by without hesitation. He holds nothing against the boy anymore, but he desperately wishes that he would share the details of what's changed him so much. However, life goes on, and he's forced to live with what it presents.

As the aspiring chef rushes past again, Tyler grabs his shoulder and stops him mid-step. Surprise is evident on his features, along with a smidgen of panic in his eyes. They haven't actually said anything to each other since their falling out two weeks ago.

"Hey, Jim," he offers a small smile and pulls out a gold paper-wrapped box from his pocket. "I know yer birthday was a few days ago, but I didn't have anythin' for ye at the time. So, this is for ye."

The boy looks between him and the small present in his hand, hesitant and unsure. Slowly, he picks it up and carefully tears open the paper to reveal a simple black box with a silver painted sparrow on top. The latch is curiously undone, and the hinges make no sound as the lid is lifted open.

An expression of awe and gratitude leaves the bronze-haired boy almost breathless as he watches his foster-brother pick out the item from its confinement. "Did you make this?"

Tyler nods, clasping his hands behind him. 

The object in question is a clumsily, yet carefully made steel bracelet that resembles a shortened bracer. Patterns line the metalwork, entwining each other as they encompass the bracelet. Raw leather softens the interior and the purposeful messy creation of it delivers a rustic-type appearance.

"I convinced one of the seniors to let me use their workshop," he rubs the back of his head with indifference. "It matches mine."

Jim looks at him in surprise as the boy raises his hand to display a remarkably similar bracelet. The only true difference between them is the pattern. While Jim's has braid-like patterns, Tyler's is engraved with runes and serpents, sparking further proof that he thoroughly enjoys foreign mythologies.

"I—I don't even—" he stops himself before smiling. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Tyler smirks, ruffling the shorter boy's black hair. "It's a gift."

"Still," Jim insists. "Thanks."

The boy shrugs, plucking his bag from the banister post and swinging it over his shoulder. They have to get going if they want to arrive to school on time.

"You boys got everything?" Barbara asks from the kitchen.

"Yup!" Jim assures as he clasps the bracelet on his wrist. "Dinner's in the—"

"Fridge," both his mother and foster-brother chime, wearing similar expressions of amusement.

"...Right," he glances between them.

"Are ye ready, Jim?" he gets a pat on the head as the elder boy walks down the hallway.

He scoffs playfully, nervousness hidden behind his eyes. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Tyler patiently holds the door open as they bid farewell to Barbara and bares a humoured grin. It's predatory, but he's aware of this, for he knows exactly what the answer is. He's going to get such a kick out of this.

"Embrasse tes lèvres, mon amour," he dramatizes, laughing as Jim gets the gist of the foreign words.

"Oh, no. Not you too," he groans, shoulders drooping as he grabs his bike.  "You were the only person that didn't bring that up!"

"Calm down," the boy chuckles, shaking his head while he raises the garage door. "I'm not gonna tease ye 'bout it."

"You're not?" Jim perks up in surprise.

"Nah, there ain't no point," he offers a kind smile. "Just be yerself, mate, and don't do anythin' dumb. I know yer worried, but it could be worse."

The aspiring chef smiles back, grateful for what little relief he's been given. It could be worse. But it's not. 

Just be himself. He can do that.

《《》》

The forgetting boy watches his foster-brother without a twinge of humour. Since they arrived at school, Jim's been completely out of character, and—if honesty's being considered—a bit of an arse.

His bracelet is still on his wrist, but now it seems to be more of an ornament than a symbol of their close relationship. That's not what it was made for.

"That was cheap," Tyler growls lowly at the boy when he comes over to the back of the theatre after rehearsal. "What's up with ya?"

"Me?" he gestures to himself with the stupid cocky grin he's worn all day. "There's nothing wrong with me, Ty," the newcomer growls at the nickname, "I'm just keeping it crispy."

He bares his teeth in a grimace, glaring at the person he thought he'd made peace with. Without sparing a breath, he packs up his textbooks and papers and exits the school with Jim following close behind.

"Come on," he drawls, slinging his arm around his shoulders. "I just want to spend time with my awesome friend!"

Tyler ducks out from under the unauthorised touch, barely restraining himself from elbowing him in the gut. He thought they were more than friends earlier. He thought he was more than something to flaunt to the student masses.

"Poca creagan, tha thu," he snarls as he clips on his helmet.

"Ty, no-one understands that gibberish," Jim scoffs, earning himself a dangerous glare that would make the strongest man alive have second thoughts.

"That gibberish is me native tongue," the boy hisses, towering over his unconcerned opponent. "Antagonize cuideigin eile, an dèanadh tu sin? Tha mi air anail gu leòr fhaighinn."

And with that final word, he takes off on his scooter, jumping the steps to avoid having to spend another minute with his foster-brother. Words surely wound more than swords, but he's learning to allow them to cut only his patience. A patience that is already much thinner than what is wise.

I love testing his patience XD.

Now there's only a few more chapters until Tyler encounters the Troll world. How do y'all reckon that'll happen?

Hope you enjoyed!