AlteredTundra

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Friday, July 23rd, 2021 | Mid-Afternoon || After Wrecking Ball
FT — Douglas “Glass” Chang, Adora Diamondheart}

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Almost like clockwork for nearly a decade, Douglas “Glass” Chang had gone to the Blue Hill Reservation for one reason and one reason only and that was to have some sort of lunch, dinner, or meal with Adora Diamondheart. It didn’t matter what was going on in Douglas’ life nor what responsibilities to the club he had. Everyone from those in the Howling Commandos Crew to the Table understood that for a few hours (sometimes a whole day), the one called he would be out of reach.

This wasn’t just a tradition that meant the universe to him. Adora had been the one constant in his life whose last name wasn’t Chang or didn’t have the Fallen Angels patch. It goes all the way back to when he was a strapping younger, cockier, and generally full of himself version of Douglas Chang. Before he ever had the name Glass and before he embraced it, he was just Douglas Chang, but to Adora, he was always Dougie. He had always felt something for the native woman. Ever since he was younger, but when she lost her sister and he lost the closest thing he had to an older brother, a lot changed. For both of them.

Where Adora closed herself off, especially to any and all advances Douglas had always wanted to make but never found the right time. Either he was too involved in whatever shit he had at the time, be it with Phoebe always causing trouble or him losing his way from the path that Sensei Ramsay tried to set him on, it never seemed like the right time. Sure he did make passes at her, but it never landed because she could see what he later himself realized and that was how immature Douglas was. In a lot of ways, he was what took Leone Booker years to realize for himself and something that Scar was still trying to improve upon.

But despite their mutual losses, over the years, the platonic love and the friendship they had before that never faded. Just about every week (unless they were going through shit too severe to let a lunch or supper date happen), for ten years, the two of them had always made time.

As he pulled up into the front entrance of Blue Hill, parking his blue Kawasaki KZ1000, he kicked the kickstand up, keeping a seated position on his bike. He took off the helmet, setting it on the center part of the front of the bike where the speedometer was. Douglas was wearing just a simple assortment of jeans and a white shirt with his Fallen Angels patch on his black leather jacket.

When he was ready, Douglas walked through the front gates. For years now, he had become well acquainted with just about everyone, especially the Lighthorsemen and Lighthorsewomen who often stood guard at the front entrance. He was essentially an honorary native at this point and had proven himself to be a friend.

He didn’t have to walk far from the front gates to where Adora’s home was and yet, every time he came here, which was basically every week (unless something prevented him from doing so), it was always as beautiful as it had been the first night he spent here.

He gave the front door a quick couple of knocks, leaning lightly against one of the support beams.

It wasn’t long before the door to the house in question opened and the ]woman who owned it stepped out, sporting a plain white tank top, a pair of blue denim shorts and white Converse sneakers. Her visitor had just enough time to stand up straight and open his arms before she jumped straight into them, wrapping her own around his taller frame. Her giggles filled the air as the man lifted her up and spun her around, stopping only when they were both starting to get dizzy.

Once Adora had safely reached the ground, she took a few steps back to cross her arms in front of her chest, examine her guest’s choice in outfit and jokingly judge him for it as it was customary during all of their meetings. “Denim jeans, boots and a black leather jacket in nearly 90-degree summer weather?” the Native woman teased the Angel with a mischievous grin on her face. “Who hurt you, Dougie?”

Cocking his head slightly to the left, Douglas gave his longtime friend and never-off, always-on crush a smile. “When you’re riding at 80 miles per hour and the wind is blowing in your face, on your arms, it’s really only like 70 degrees.” As much as he knew that was a cop out, this was how they always started things. It didn’t matter how hot it was outside nor how cold it was, they did this dance all of the time. He’d spin her around by grabbing her firm hips until just before they felt the vertigo kick in and she’d make a jab at his outfit.

Douglas had the tendency of being a rebel to Mother Nature. “For the record though--” In an act of showing just how pointless poking fun his outfit was (and in the process, he was simultaneously playing along), he took off his jacket one arm at a time, showing his well-defined biceps and forearms. When he was finished, he swung it over his left shoulder, almost smirking, knowing exactly what this little display was something Adora enjoyed. “This tank is the only thing really protecting my body from the high winds when I’m skillfully driving twenty miles over the speed limit.” And he said that with pride.

Adora rolled her eyes, shook her head and allowed her grin to morph into a smirk as she watched her guest make a spectacle out of removing his Fallen Angels leather jacket. Anyone with two eyes could see that Douglas Chang was an attractive man. He was tall, with a jawline chiseled to the gods, a smile that could melt Antarctica, and toned muscles all over his body that evidenced hours and dedication to martial arts and the gym. And it was no secret that the Native woman took any and all opportunities she had available to indulge in devouring Douglas’ handsome features with her sharp eyes. She’d never tell him that to his face, of course, even if he did know-- his big ego didn’t need any more feeding.

“Only twenty miles over? You’re growing soft in your old age,” she teased again, effortlessly falling into the light-hearted banter that was a staple of their friendship. “Well, lucky for you, there aren’t any high winds inside the house to hurt your delicate skin: only a nice 70 degree weather to keep us cool and comfortable while we eat the fabulous lunch I’ve cooked for us.”

“Delicate skin?” Douglas laughed almost instinctively. He did not have delicate skin. If anything, it was just sensitive to some things. “Only thing delicate around here is you when I lift you up.” He cocked a smirk. She knew she was light as a feather, or at least she was for someone who could wipe the floor with someone like Mr. Clean with little to no problem. Lifting the tiny Adora Diamondheart was a piece of cake in comparison.

Of course, he joked…for the most part. He always joked with her. She was the only person other than Phoebe that got to see this side of him. “Well what are we still waiting out here for?” He moved forward towards the door, jerking his head towards the inside of the house, urging her to follow. “I’m starving!”

“Since when do you ask for permission to come into my house?” Adora snapped back with a smirk of her own, hands on her hips. “You’re a big boy. Go on in. The door’s unlocked, and you have a key anyway. Nobody’s stopping you.”

"Big boy or not, my mom would never forgive me if I left my manners on the front porch with you." Douglas chuckled as he walked in Adora's home.

It was true what she said. He never did need anyone's permission to go into her house, yet every single time, he waited for her consent. It's just how he was brought up. His mother Corinne was always so adamant about manners, which was almost hypocritical because she would be the first one to forget them in the heat of the moment. But if there was one thing Douglas never questioned was what she said. That woman, no matter how she felt about his father (and he’s heard a few choice words over the years), she loved her children. That much couldn’t be ignored. And if he simply dropped almost everything she ever drilled into his mind, well he’d never hear the end of it.

As he walked in, he didn’t realize until a few steps in that he was holding Adora's hand. But at the same time, it wasn’t anything he hadn't done before. Whenever he’d come over and that was pretty frequently, they had always rided the line. There was always something between them and this was, honestly, an extension of the deep bond that was between them.

Now in the kitchen, the aroma of what Adora was cooking hit him and while his senses were processing all of the intricate smells he was picking up on, his stomach had the same idea. While Adora was still next to him, part of her side against his, his stomach started to growl, some smells felt familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Whatever you got brewing, think it’s safe to say my stomach approves.”

“It’s a special surprise that I know you’ll go crazy about,” the brunette mysteriously answered, offering Douglas an impish grin as they crossed the kitchen and arrived at the dining room. “Take a seat. I’ll bring everything right out.”

While her guest did as he was told, Adora began to deliver to the table an array of Douglas’ favorite dishes that she’d cooked for their lunch date: shrimp fried rice, summer rolls with peanut dipping sauce, smashed cucumber salad and crab rangoons. A chilled bottle of blueberry Warhorse Mead filled their glasses-- a perfect way to cool down during summer. And once the woman took a seat, the best friend duo wasted no time in filling up their plates and diving in.

In between bites of the classic (and not so classic) Chinese food, sips of mead and catching up with the latest happenings in their lives, Adora and Douglas had consumed a majority of the feast she had prepared. Lethargy was quick to claim them after their meal, and they moved the conversation from the dining table to the cozy sectional couch in the living room. The TV was soon turned on and tuned into Yellowstone (Sons of Anarchy being its precursor), following their long-standing tradition of watching a few episodes of the show after eating. As usual, the hostess had taken her shoes off and made a comfortable pillow out of her guest’s lap, while he had fallen back into the habit of running his fingers through her silky chocolate locks. Rather than allow herself to succumb into the arms of a nap like her body wanted her to, Adora began to mentally prepare herself for the conversation that was coming next. Now that they had eaten, caught up and were comfortable, it was time to finally get to the real reason why she had asked Douglas to meet her today.

“Dougie?” Adora tentatively called out to her friend to get his attention, shifting around in his lap so that she would be lying face up, looking at him. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Douglas had almost spaced out during the episode of Yellowstone they were watching, almost for a few minutes. His mind was drifting about how content he felt. He was thinking about how content he felt just relaxing with Adora. For years he had been doing the same thing with her like it was clockwork. He’d come over to her house, eat some meal, and watch a few hours of something that she put on. Some days it was a show they’ve both seen and adored or a movie that maybe he lost a bet to and was forced to watch (or she lost the bet and had to endure the mindless action flicks he consumed like they were candy). Whatever the case was, it was always like this: her using his lap as her pillow and either she fell asleep or he did, but it was one of the few times he could find an inner peace, no matter how temporary it was.

But something changed. When she propped up, even before she spoke, Douglas caught onto the noticeable shift in her demeanor. She went from being relaxed to almost sounding serious. “This sounds serious. Everything okay, Adora?” He asked, giving her all of his attention. He was curious and also proceeded with a certain amount of caution. Their peace time on the couch usually went without a hitch and he wasn’t the type who particularly enjoyed surprises, especially when it came from one of his best friends.

Rather than responding right away, the brunette inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “You know how I said that last Tuesday I had a really deep conversation with Mordechai about living without regrets and taking chances on things even if they seem scary at first?” she began, shifting her eyes to her hands as she nervously began to fidget with chipping off the nail polish out of her fingernails.

Douglas recalled that conversation almost immediately. It was a rare day because for as long as he has known Adora, she didn’t seem to particularly run away from those kinds of conversations, especially when it came to her boys. Be it little Jonie, Creed, or Mordechai, all three of them who were also close to his heart as well, she always seemed a lot more emotional when they were in the conversation. So when she called on Tuesday, he could tell immediately. She had the same tone in her voice she did then as she did now and forced him to take it somewhat more seriously, giving her not only his attention but his investment. “Yeah, I remember. Why? What’s on your mind, Adora?”

The sun-kissed woman rose from her position in Glass' lap and stood up to face him. This was a topic she needed to address with the importance and respect it deserved. After all, the consequences of this conversation could, without exaggeration, change the course of the rest of her life. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but the conversation Tuesday made me certain it's what I want to do…” she trailed off, Inhaling and exhaling another deep breath before finally dropping the bomb. “Douglas, if you still want to, I'd like to give you and I a chance."

“Well that was unexpected,” Douglas mused aloud. His mouth wasn’t hanging down like some cartoon caricature of himself, but he most certainly didn’t expect her to say that. For the 30-year old man, how he was feeling both as she was bluntly stating what she just said and the aftermath of that bombshell of a statement left him in a mix of elation, disbelief, and, as he sat there, digesting it, uncertainty.

Uncertainty because for the longest time, Douglas Chang had pined after the woman standing in front of him. This radiant beauty whose soul was as natural to him as her tribe to his country was. He has been head over heels in infatuation with Adora Diamondheart since he was a teenager. Since he was a stupid, reckless, selfish little prick of a kid. Someone who only initially saw her as someone that was so incredibly hot and so down to earth that he wanted to make her his and that was a feeling that never truly went away.

Uncertainty had always been the fork in their road because when he wanted her and when he wanted to be with her, tragedy befell their tight-knit family. She lost her sister and Douglas lost his uncle while at the same time, Creed and Jokes lost their everything. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, Adora. Or maybe you do.” His surprise was in his voice and on his face, but he laughed, and she laughed with him. Douglas would occasionally float the idea of them as an item and always had for a decade. He never pushed too far because he understood that for a while, she was seldom ready to be in that place. The place of mental stability. The place of being able to put love into another.

Douglas stood up, looking at Adora. He was still in disbelief. “Are you sure about this?” He had to ask because, as much as he was ready, he needed to have the reassurance to know that he wasn’t somehow unknowingly pushing her into this. Douglas had been ready for five years. Five years since he fixed what was wrong with him. Five years that took a soul-searching journey that opened him up to a lot of ugly truths about himself. For so long, he actually blamed himself for what happened with his parents. Like their marriage failing was something he did. Maybe that’s why he was such a bitter, angry teenager that not even Sensei Ramsay could get through. But in those five years, he understood it wasn’t anyone’s fault. His father refused to turn away Megan and his mother, Corinne, refused to take him back after Jason was born. At the end of the day, their family survived and carried on. When he made peace with that, Douglas thought about what he wanted for his own life. He had been an angel for six years at that point but he wanted more for himself. Adora always represented that something more, but she never gave him the green light that she was ready. If this was it, then maybe, just maybe, he could finally start writing his own story and build a home with a strong foundation, one immune to twitches in the foundation and fire proof to that fiery Brady temper that flowed through his veins as well.

The Native woman nodded. “I’m sure,” she reassured him, taking one of his hands and holding it with both of her own. “Before now, I didn’t feel like getting into a relationship with anyone would be a good idea. I had so much stuff going on after Tama’s death and then Mama’s that it would’ve been unfair to burden anyone else with all of my baggage. I wanted to make sure that, when I did decide I was ready to open up my heart, I could offer my partner the best version of myself. It took a lot longer than either of us would’ve imagined, but I think I’m finally at a place where I feel safe and mature enough to take some steps in the direction of my own happiness… Starting with the one person that I know I want to spend my life with and could never imagine it without: and that’s you.”

Douglas squeezed her hand back, giving Adora a small smile. “Don’t I know it. We both had our own stuff to work through and find ourselves again. Or in my case, find myself for the first time.” He gave a small chuckle. “You remember how I was when we first met. I was no better than Leone is now. Too cocky for my own good. Too abrasive for anyone’s comfort. And how you always used to describe me: too sour like the lemon I was back then.” Like everyone who had matured and become better people than who they were a decade ago, just the thought of who he was and how Adora had called him out on it made him cringe. “I would have put me in my place too. And I did. It took a lot of failed attempts, but eventually I became someone who wasn’t lost in his own darkness or drowning in his own failures.”

He brought his free hand to gently cup her face, looking down into her enchanting eyes. “Hancock has a belief he loves to preach about how everyone and their love story is like an engine. You never know how to put one together until you learn the basics. Until you have the tools to tear it apart and put it back together; and when you’re done, you realize there’s one piece left but you can’t find it anywhere. A piece that you can’t seem to find anywhere. No matter how hard you look, how long you look for, and how far you go to find it, you can’t ever place it. It’s not until you’ve exhausted every option that it clicks. It’s been with you the whole time, but you didn’t have the perspective to see it when it was hiding in plain sight.” His heart was going at a rapid pace right now because he had his missing piece right here. Her face was soft under the touch of his calloused hands. As his lips quivered, he leaned close, touching his forehead with her and whispered in a low, breathy tone, “You’re my missing piece. You’ve always been my missing piece, Adora Diamondheart.”

Overcome with emotion at Douglas’ words, tears of joy as bright as the precious stone she was named after were quick to fill Adora’s brown eyes. After the death of her sister when she was seventeen years old, life as she knew it came to a crashing halt. Tama Kraeter was like a mother to her, and the grief of her loss had sent the younger sister down a destructive path of self-hatred and self-sabotage. For a long time, she had lived under the idea that she should’ve been the one to die; that she was nothing but a scared whore with so much baggage and nothing to offer that no man would ever want her, and that she didn’t deserve to be happy. It had taken years of self-reflection and therapy of sorts with the elders in her tribe to come to the realization that her previous choices didn’t define her, that she had the world to offer, that she did deserve to be happy, and that the best way to honor her sister’s memory was to live without fear.

And through it all, Douglas had been there for her. From the moment they had met when they were teenagers, he had stood by her side through it all. He never judged her. He never saw her as something less than. He never made her feel bad about her choices. He knew who she was, what she did and where she came from, and it never changed the way he was with her. All Douglas ever did was see Adora for who she really was: the kind, loving, intelligent, protective and caring woman she hadn’t even seen in herself. For that and many other reasons, Adora loved him. He had always been the missing piece of her own life.

Letting out a soft laugh, Adora felt Douglas’ thumbs wipe away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks. “So does that mean yes, orrrrr…” She trailed off with a playful smile, knowing exactly what Douglas’ answer was but wanting to hear it from him.

Instead of answering her, Douglas kissed her. He felt comfortable and certain enough that he could do it without disrespecting her, which was the one thing he never wanted to do. All this time he had these feelings for her - that overwhelming affection for her - Douglas always respected her boundaries. When he’d ask her out and she said no, he respected it. When he’d ask her out for coffee and she said she was busy, he respected it and didn’t push it past that. He always let it go until a few months or a year passed and brought it up again. Always in the past, he was the one to bring it up but she changed that tradition. So he was confident in pressing his lips against hers, feeling that she was all in just as he had been all in for nearly five years to the day, there weren’t any regrets.

And when the short act of kissing her was done, he pulled away, breaking it, and smiled. “That’s an absolutely.”

Edenridge

_{FLASKBACK: Summer before junior year
FT: Marco Brady-Castillo, Danilo Belmonte}

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The Bradys and the Belmontes and other neighboring Scott Street families found themselves in and out of the large estate that unabashedly sported Italian pride. The flag of Italy hung from a staff that angled out from the front wall, the kitchen, the biggest room of the house, was crowded by earthy and sunny art pieces, plates printed with fruits and veggies, and Tuscan mechanical workshops and artisan hone metals to elevate the appliances. Pottery and flowers could be found in every corner, table, and surface inside and out the house. Antique furniture was the centerpiece of each room (minus the kids’ bedrooms - all made in a tailored design, featuring their personalities), and paintings. Paintings hung everywhere. Many, many paintings. Some shipped from Italy, others painted by Vivia herself. She was gifted, after all, and had a delightful teacher in Eleanor Costigan.

Tiziano was cooking spiedini over the grill flame, Sylvia was in the kitchen making sure traffic kept moving as people retrieved the bounty of food that waited on the counters, the island, and the dining room table, most of the kids were in the pool, and the older Belmonte girls were tasked to bring their best to the party, socializing and entertaining their father’s guests. Like every year, Taz’s summer barbeque was turning out to be a success. People came and went as they pleased and most of those who attended enjoyed the distraction, enjoyed the peace and enjoyed the summer heat. Taz was happy to see his family and his friends all rejoicing under one roof, like one big happy family. Taz was happy and glad to not hear any stories of ghosts and horror. A moment to forget and just be. A perfect way to spend a summer day.

The one person who was finding it hard to immerse himself in the environment was Danilo Belmonte. He sat on a stool barely touching his burger inside the living room, beside the couch that was once taken by a couple of Cat’s friends. Brainlessly, he went through the channels on the television trying to decide what summer sport he should watch. He was finding today unbearable and he didn’t know why. All he knew was ever since he visited the O’Briens last, he felt uncomfortable and weird. Foul and disgusting. He felt many things and nothing at all. He felt numb, or tried to at least.

Staying out of his father’s view was priority, then followed by keeping himself busy with senseless things and nonsense. Danny knew his dad would want him to hang with the men, acting like he was an adult while his father smoked a cigar. Deeply sighing, Danny settled with football (soccer), put the remote back on the coffee table and leaned back. He sat there quiet, just not in the mood to talk to anyone. That is until his mother slipped inside his mind palace, inviting herself with worry and concern. She was quick to know when he was lying and even faster at understanding her son’s body language. After a short, sweet exchange, Danny was given permission to rest and hide out in his bedroom. Until dessert, Mama B would shield him from the extreme tendencies.

Relieved that he got a free pass, Danny rose, leaving the game on the screen, and left the crowd to go to the quiet of his bedroom. To lay down, that would be a great adventure. Avoiding any passersby, he tactically went up the stairs to go to his oasis. His bedroom. He needed to play some music and think of something that made him feel good. That made him smile. He needed a distraction.

All the while, several minutes before Danny would even go upstairs, a certain curious boy had already made his way up to Danny Belmonte’s room. What had first initially began as an accident that was followed by a moment of weakness, curiosity the cat took control of Marco Brady’s every action. In the years he had been massively crushing on Danny, but only coming off of months since they had a very confusing and enthralling moment together, Marco hadn’t been able to get Danny out of his head (more so than usual).

He went upstairs just to use the bathroom. When he tried the one downstairs, it was occupied, but in the middle of his quest to relieve himself, Marco was drawn to a specific bedroom. It was obviously Danny’s because it smelled like him. There was a certain mixture of Danny’s cologne that was earthy and quite potent (something Marco would never choose for himself), but it was familiar. In the process of carefully walking around Danny’s room, took in the sights because he went on a journey. From the jersey’s hanging over his bed, his desk set up that made him wish he had one like that, the shelf for just his sneakers, and just everything his eyes could see.

Marco didn’t know what he expected, but being in Danny’s room made him feel like he was closer to the boy he was…well he wouldn’t say addicted, but this was as close to being addicted as one could get. He was bathing in the scent, overwhelmed by every sensation that hit him that he had to take a pause on his bed. Marco laid back, wondering if there would ever come a day that he might be able to lay here with Danny. Something he longed to happen for so long, yet as he laid there, deep in thought and in more comfort than he could have ever predicted, he frowned when he realized that the thoughts going through his head were impossible. Only possible in dreams.

And then he heard some noise coming close to the door. He didn’t close the bedroom door because that would have made it seem like he was sneaking around. He just wandered into Danny’s room. In a panic, Marco slid under the bed. He didn’t know how much time he’d have - only that Marco had to get out of sight and had to do it fast. Why didn’t I just go into the closet? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. He had to pray to GOD he was as quiet as he thought he was, but it was impossible when he heard exactly who it was that came into Danny’s room.

It was Danny. He heard him say something and Marco was cursing himself into oblivion.

Closing the door behind him, Danny locked it, seeking solitude, being away from the masses, especially his father. Once he reached his dresser he connected his phone to his bluetooth speakers. His goal: to drown out the noise outside. To drown out the noise in his mind. Going through his music, he chose his rap playlist and the first song to come on was Stress by NF. This song wasn’t the best at distracting him but at least it made the noise outside distant. Putting his hands behind his head, intertwining his fingers, he listened to the lyrics and breathed.

Just breathe.

Shutting his eyes, he stood there combating his thoughts. He was sure that he ruined his friendship with Jill. All because of a stupid game. A game that made him feel… made him feel what? He had so much to live up to. He was the only son of Tiziano Belmonte and he was amazing at basketball. So much so that he could go to the big leagues if he kept his grades up and didn’t stray from the path his father paved for him. It wasn’t like he minded. He had his whole life planned for him. It would guarantee success and stability. If he fell, he was sure his mother would provide the security he needed to get back up but it was unlikely he would fail. Failure wasn’t an option. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t fall. If he did, how would his father react?

Opening his eyes, he grabbed his small basketball off his dresser and squeezed it in his hand. Swiftly turning, he tossed it in the air straight to his closet and to the mini hoop mounted on it. Nothing but net. When he scored and the ball fell onto the floor, bouncing a bit and then rolling under the bed, Danny sighed, furrowing his eyebrows from all the tension and stress.

Grace O’Brien.

She wasn’t part of the plan. He would never do that to Jill. He promised. That was her older sister. But then he did. Why did he? Because of a stupid game with his best friend? Rye and him? They were just being idiots and making the most of their freetime. A game to see who could get the most scores. A bet that would undoubtedly prove who was the smooth talker of the two.

Getting girls was easy. Who wouldn’t want to be with Francis’ legacy? The bound-to-be NBA star of Edenridge High. Danny Belmonte. Getting girls was easy… but then Rye started getting someone every week, his playing field more wide. Boys, girls, and others. Northies, southies, and in between. Danny fell behind. Danny was losing. He couldn’t afford to lose. He couldn’t afford failing as a man. How embarrassing would it be if his teammates found out that bubbly, lovable Rye knew how to flirt better than their captain?

Danny could see the charm. Rye was small, cute, and made you feel needed. He hit a different kink. He made you feel wanted. He made you feel seen. He was high maintenance and at times, too much to deal with, but he definitely was someone Danny would consider: a catch. Still, that didn’t justify the jocek’s actions with Grace. Because he gave in, because he ended up saying yes, after dodging her advances time and time again, after telling her they shouldn’t, he couldn’t and that he didn’t think it was right, after saying no over and over again throughout the years… he finally said yes because could Rye say he got with an upperclassman?

Danny could but at the price of his friendship with Jill.

Was it all because a dumb game? Was this horrible mistake all because he wanted to one up Rye and show he was better than him? Giving another deep sigh, Danny slipped off his sneakers, shuffled to his bed, and rolled onto it, until he was resting on his back. Danny thought he was smarter than that. Smarter than a game or well, letting a game influence his behavior. He was a basketball player who needed to know when to not let the game and crowd get to his head. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't as good as he thought. Maybe he was…

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Suddenly there came a series of groans - loud ones. Noticeable from under the bed. When Danny had laid back, the frame held firm as it should be and as Marco expected it to. For a family that lived as well as the Belmontes did, Marco expected Danny’s bed to be top of the line, but even that frame could only support so much weight without giving way to it for a bit and Danny was a bulky person. So when Marco heard it start to creek, no doubt because the object of his affection for years had put his entire weight on the mattress, it in turn pushed said weight on Marco’s back. He wasn’t so far from the edge, so he rolled out on the other side.

The sound of someone hidden in his room caused Danny to be on high alert. Rolling off his bed and standing up, his guard rushed back up as he watched this random person crawl on the floor, from under his bed, like some horror film. He didn’t have any weapons in his immediate reach so he was prepared to tackle and fight if need be. All he wanted to do was rest but it looks like God had other plans for him. Who the hell would go under someone’s bed?!

“Hello…” From the other side, said Marco, a painful expression on his face as he slowly pulled himself off the floor, gripping the top of Danny’s bed for support. He met the surprised gaze of Danny and he was completely justified to it. “Ah, is that NF I hear? Good artist. JP told me to check him out. I thought maybe I would.” He still felt a sharpness in his lower back but Marco just kept trying to talk. “I know what this looks like. I promise I didn’t intend to lay under your bed…_{though I guess in hindsight I should have hid in the closet. Least then my back wouldn’t be killing me right now.}” Marco said in a lower voice. He was trying his best to explain his being in Danny’s room, but everything that came from his mouth felt like he was digging himself six feet deep inside cement and dirt.

When the reveal of the culprit came to light, Danny was stunned. He didn’t expect Marco to be in his room like this. Or in his room alone. Or in his room at all. Looking at the other boy in a dumb stupor, a sudden rush of thoughts came crashing into Danny’s mind. No, it wasn’t the game that stressed him out. It wasn’t the game that pushed him to cave and give into Grace’s pressure. It wasn’t the game that overwhelmed him to the point that he wanted to explode. It was this boy right here that put him in between a rock and a hard place. Or more like… this growing intense feeling he felt whenever they were around each other.

He couldn’t get Marco’s scent out of his mind or smile or even the cute facial expressions he makes when their shoulders touch. The game was just a distraction when the reality of his situation was, he couldn’t play it well because for the last two years all he wanted was to… “... Marco,” Danny breathed, realizing he locked the door, there was music playing, and no one else was around to see them. “... what are you doing here?”

It took Marco a few moments, short and long alike, to get himself upright and to his feet. It was a mixture of the slight discomfort of Danny’s bedframe against his back and him having to crawl out from under his bed. Neither of those compared to being in his room with Danny. Nothing compared to being so close to him in a setting that he had dreamed of for so many nights, for so many months of the two years he’s known of Danny Belmonte’s existence. Nothing came even close to being so close to those dreams being realized but having to explain why he was even in his room. The easy answer would be to lie his ass off about it, but Marco was a terrible liar. It’s why his siblings never did anything that didn’t meet their parent’s standards around them because if they got caught, be it their father or mother, they’d find out through him.

“Good question, good question…” Marco was stammering through his words, his instant tell of running his hand behind his head as scratched the top of his scalp with his perfectly manicured fingers. “So..I was looking for the bathroom. Think it was occupied downstairs. I came up the stairs to find one, but…you know, this house is very big. Like it’s almost like the house from Emil’s guilty pleasure show, Days of Our Lives, there’s a couple of mafia families in there with enormous homes..” Marco rambled on, realizing he outed Emiliano’s most hidden secret that he promised he’d never breathe to a soul about. Whoops. “Don’t tell Emil I said that. He promised it would be our secret. I like to watch it occasionally too..”

Looking at Danny, he got the sense he needed to get to the point. “Right. Me being here. I got lost and found my way into your room and..well, guess I got a little curious…” About wanting to know you more. Marco was lured in by convenience. It didn’t matter, not really, if he needed an excuse because the truth was, Marco wanted to be here, but he wasn’t sure if telling Danny that was the smart thing or even if he’d react in the way that might give Marco a clue. A sign that maybe that part of him months ago felt…something could come say hello to them again and make it more obvious. Or at least convince the panicked version of Marco to take a chance. “And now I’m here.”

“Curious…” Danny repeated after Marco. He needed to play it cool and think of anything but the one thing he was thinking about. His probing gaze gave the other boy a once over, pausing at the lips, before looking away. “There’s nothing interesting to see here, as you can tell. I’m the jock stereotype.” He wanted to turn away and distract himself with the drywall paint or one of his sneakers, but instead he casually stepped closer, going around the bed to gesture at his desk which didn’t have his laptop on it. Instead it was covered with his woodshop projects this past year. “I guess these are kind of neat? Might show I’m more than just a dumb jock.”

Glancing towards his desk, Marco saw them. During his detailed journey around Danny’s room earlier, how could he not have noticed them? Well, that’s not true. He did notice them. He noticed them but didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t know what he knew now: Danny made them. Danny made them with his own hands. In a slow, yet fleeting moment, he looked at his crush of three years. “These are by far the second coolest thing in the room!” Marco excitedly exclaimed. It was odd because he was losing a squash match to his anxiety and nerves just a few minutes ago, but now Marco felt relaxed. Was it because of the wooden figurines on his desk? Or maybe it was something more? Maybe Danny not immediately flipping out on him being in his room was the start of it.

He stepped closer to the desk, just examining it closer, noticing one in particular that caught his immediate interest. He picked the one that looked like Wall-E up. “This is so cool! It looks just like Wall-E. I didn’t know you knew about it.” Like a kid in a candy store, Marco then stumbled on the miniature Skee-Ball masterpiece. “And you even did Skee-Ball!” There was a sense of wonderment in Marco’s voice, almost forgetting where he was and getting lost at the amount of skill it must have taken to craft these. “Just incredible! You’re really talented, Danny. You know that, right?”

As Marco gushed about his projects, Danny carefully observed him, distracted by the boy’s lips. He lingered on the words that the woodshop creations were the second coolest thing in the room. That made him wonder… What else in his room did Marco like? He hadn’t even realized with every passing word, he had inched closer to the other boy. Half of his body behind Marco, while the other half leaned over to demonstrate each projects’ functions.

The miniature skee-ball functioned just like the real deal, perfect for a bartop to keep drunks occupied. Wall-E’s arms, neck, and treads moved so it wasn’t a complete statue. There was more to it than something that was nice to look at. Unfortunately it had to be done manually but if he had more time with it last semester, he would’ve tried to reach out to someone to help him make his project work with a remote control. His current project, more for himself than school, was unfinished and most of the pieces were in the shed, where his father set his son up with an at-home workshop. It seemed that Danny was in the process of carving a whole chess set. Instead of answering Marco’s question, the captain of the Celtics asked, “You said these were the second coolest things in my room… what’s the first?”

“Is that what I said?” For a moment, Marco could feel himself panicking for a few reasons. Knowing that he knew what he said was one, but when Danny fixated on it, that only added to the sudden shift in his demeanor. As he felt his throat go just a bit drier than before, he had to think about how he was going to phrase this. Marco knew if he wasn’t careful, he would expose himself to the one person he wanted almost as badly as he wanted to be a professional football/soccer player. That’s how badly he yearned for Danny Belmonte’s attention. Sure, right now he had it but he wanted it in a whole deeper way.

“Well, what I meant..” He was struggling to find the right way to say it. So he would just do it. Looking at Danny, though he kept his hands mostly to himself, he let his gaze linger on the boy. “You are. I mean, you are so talented! From being the captain of our basketball team to the amazing masterpieces on your desk.” Marco’s face was getting hotter and hotter, but not as hot as he found Danny Belmonte… “I wish I had your skills for making these with my hands. Only thing I can do that’s even close to that is play Football…sorry, I mean soccer.” He let out a nervous laugh. He wasn’t intentionally trying to look away from Danny or avoid his gaze, but right now, if he kept looking at Danny, he knew something would happen. Something he would do and he wasn’t sure what the outcome of that might be.

Marco was rambling. He did that alot. He also admired and complimented him often. Danny wasn’t naive. He knew how Marco felt, more than he’d ever admit. This wouldn’t be the first time his friend, this geek in front of him, word-vomited sweet nothings to him. This wouldn’t be the first time Marco Brady got inside his head. It wasn’t until Marco looked away that Danny felt this sudden annoyance and ache overtake him, flooding his senses.

Don’t look away from me.

His heart beat faster and faster as he tried to contain the beast. Danny rooted his feet to the floor, trying not to lose himself in the moment. His yearning overwhelmed him and yet, he didn’t want Marco to withdraw and run away. Danny needed him. He didn’t know how he got this far but he needed him. He needed a boy and he needed him right now.

Coming from behind, Danny wrapped his arms around his friend, gently turning Marco’s head so he could catch his gaze. He wanted to kiss Marco’s ear, neck, and clavicle. He wanted to kiss Marco’s forehead, nose, and lips. He wanted to kiss… everything. Tightening his hold, he gave into his deepest desire and planted a kiss eagerly onto Marco’s delicate lips. Softly at first to get a read of the other boy’s reaction. His hunger was far too great at this point and he was finding himself struggling to pull back. The kiss only building in intensity. Danny wanted him. He wanted him bad.

When Danny had wrapped his muscular arms around him and kissed him, Marco was stunned. Shocked. Frozen in place. He felt almost paralyzed by the suddenness his longtime crush’s action. He had always wanted a sign. Something that could tell him he wasn’t alone in this. A sign that would make it clear to Marco that his crush wasn’t just a one-sided thing and it wasn’t what he feared worse and unrequited. In the back of his mind, he still thought that maybe he was reading too much into this, but he wasn’t that naive. He was Marlena Castillo and Colin Brady’s son, for god sake. Grandson of Emilio Castillo.

Marco wasn’t stupid. Marco wasn’t a fool.

Or maybe he was, but he was a fool who crushed on the man embracing him from behind for three years. THREE YEARS! Any sane person or someone who wasn’t such a fool like Marco could be sometimes would have moved on, but he always held out hope. Any glimmer of hope, a thread that led to the neon sign that was this moment.

God, his heart was on fire. Beating uncontrollably both because of what was happening but also because of the sudden realization of what Marco felt in his gut to be true. Since that day when Danny took him to that spot, told him about the Clover Curse, there was something between them that changed. He thought he was going crazy. Marco could have sworn he was going crazy, but right now, he knew he wasn’t. Danny was kissing him and by all heavenly fathers: Jesus Christ and all others that exist in whatever religion they are worshiped in, it was magnificent. He couldn’t do much of anything because he was still in a euphoric state of shock, the paralysis of it all making him as still as a statue. Part of him didn’t want this moment to end.

Don’t let it end here. Please!

Pressing himself so Marco could feel him, Danny let his appetite drive his actions. He intensely stared into Marco’s pretty, light brown eyes, hoping that was enough for him to understand his feelings. When Marco moaned into his lips that sent him over, Danny made a trail of kisses to all the places he wanted to make his, lingering on the neck and sucking at it. It wasn’t until he was getting ready to loosen his pants and pull down Marco’s when he heard his dad, over the music from his room, announce the antipasto and steak kabobs were done, and gloat about his wife’s meatballs. That’s when Danny suddenly jerked away.

And just like that, Marco’s dream was cut short, his face was almost as full of panic as he noticed Danny’s was. Was it because of what he heard too? Mr. Belmonte announced the food was done?

Retreating, his want clearly visible, Danny ran both his hands through his hair and rested them behind his head, interlocking his finger. He made sure to give enough distance between the two so he wouldn’t do anything stupid again. “Sorry… I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have did that.” He could only imagine how his father would react if he found out his son kissed a boy, and he liked it. “Just...” He could feel and hear his heartbeat. Anxious from what he just did. Danny Belmonte was not gay. He dated and slept with girls all the time. This was just a phase and didn’t mean anything. Marco didn’t mean anything. “…forget this ever happened.” He was uncomfortable and hard but he knew, for both of their sakes, this was for the best. Marco didn’t know Tiziano Belmonte… not like Danny did. He didn’t know why this was possibly the worst thing Danny could do as the only son of Taz. Danny was not okay and he couldn’t take back what he did. Yet, as he looked at Marco, he knew he still wanted him. God he wanted him so bad.

It took Marco a few moments longer than it usually would to register exactly what had just happened. To understand why Danny pulled away when he did. Before either of them heard Mr. Belmonte, it was heaven. A heaven that was pushing Marco to the max and that held his tongue in a silencing vice grip, but it was as close to everything he had dreamed of and more. But when he realized what was really happening, Marco didn’t know this feeling. To be ashamed of oneself even in the face of your parents, or maybe especially in the face of your parents. But maybe that just went to show how much Marco knew and how lucky he was to not only have a family who accepted him for who he was, but loved him even more because he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t too naive to think that others had it just as fortunate but seeing how Danny acted, it dawned on him that this was the worst case scenario for him.

When Danny started to apologize, part of Marco was angry. Of course, not at Danny. Never at Danny. He was angry that Danny’s father could make him feel like this. “Danny…” He wanted to reach for his hand, but that would be the wrong thing to do. He had so many thoughts running through his mind right now, but all of them were wanting to just hug Danny. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Or anything that might risk getting caught. We can just go back out there right now and rejoin everyone, but…” He mentally said a few hail mary’s and reached for Danny’s hand as gently as he could. “I’m not going anywhere. I…care about you. A lot actually. My reason for even coming to your room was because of that. I thought if I could find a sign, to know you better, maybe I could get the courage and confess even half of what I’ve been carrying around for the past three years.” As he went on a ramble again, Marco did something he normally didn’t: he kept his gaze on Danny, hoping in some way he could see how Marco meant every word. “I just needed you to know that.”

Oh hell.

Listening to Marco, as he never turned away from him, never looked away, only made Danny want him more. Dirty thoughts aside, the fact that Marco wanted him for three years around the same time Danny started realizing that he might not be as straight as he was raised to be put the jock between a rock and a hard place. Quite literally a hard place. “Look at me, Marco,” Danny growled, as he buried the thought of his father’s voice in the back of his mind, to be with this boy that drove him crazy. He inched closer and reached for his hand, placing it on his chest. His heart beat like crazy. “Does it look like I don’t want you? Just feel me.” He gently guided his crush’s hand downward to do exactly what he commanded. To feel him.

“I want you. I want you bad. And not just right now,” Danny released Marco’s hand to hold his face, to caress his bottom lip with his thumb. Briefly, the Captain cherished the sight of the boy he was growing so fond of, gliding the back of his fingers on Marco’s right cheek. He held him dearly, as someone he wanted to be with. Beyond teenage sex, beyond friends. “I’ll be real, I’m terrified. My dad isn’t a bad dad, he just was raised in religion. But I’m his only son…” Danny breathed, as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against his almost lover. “That doesn’t change that all I do is think about you. I can’t say when it’s started but you’re all that’s on my mind. All the time. I can’t even kiss a girl without thinking about how badly I want you.”

Everything in Marco went from panicpanicpanic to another form of it, but in the best, unexpected, welcomed, absolutely-wonderful ways. When Danny grabbed his hand and guided him down, Marco felt everything he had been experiencing when it came to the boy in front of him. Every night of dreaming of this moment, fantasizing of it, doing whatever he could to relieve himself of the thoughts that filled his mind any time he thought about Danny Belmonte came flooding back with a vengeance.

Any time that Marco tried to speak, tried to form a thought - it was a moot point. A moot point because anything he could think or say was blocked out by this moment and by how badly Danny wanted him. Just as much, if not more, than Marco wanted him.

As he brought a hand up to Danny’s cheek, he just spoke, “Then nobody has to know. We don’t have to let anyone know but us.” He knew what he was saying. Marco understood the implications but he didn’t care about any of that right now. All he wanted was to be with Danny. It became obvious to him that any hope of that being as a public anything went out the window when Danny went into a panic when he heard his father and even the slightest risk of getting caught was possible. He moved closer, close to the point where his chest and his body was pushing against Danny’s gently. “I just want you. I need you, Danny. It’s…all I’ve ever wanted.”

That’s all Danny needed to hear, for as long as time would allow it. For as long as he could make this last. Danilo Belmonte didn’t say anything more. Instead he went in to taste their shared breath. He wanted to feel the thud in their combined heartbeats as he led this dance that he yearned for. That he couldn’t stop himself from doing. That he wanted so bad that it was impossible to restrain himself. Marco was forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden and he wanted to taste it and eat it whole.

Their clothes began to fumble onto the floor…

There was a moment the chatter from outside did cause the two almost lovers to freeze but Danny was quick to change his playlist and turn up the volume. His dad was drinking and it was louder outside than it was in Danny’s bedroom. No one was going to interrupt them, especially since his mom had said she’d make sure of it. With no more interruptions, the Italian boy, the captain of the Edenridge Celtics, swept his tongue into Marco’s mouth again. Nothing between their bodies… finally, he would make this adorable, dorky and spirited geek his. Marco would be his.

Even if only in secret.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday July 21st, 2021 || After On My Head
FT — Stacy Capek, Salvatore Montero, Dylan Doyle
LOCATION — Hotel Encanto Construction Site
Tw - Domestic, verbal & emotional abuse, death, violence}

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Despite how she is always smiling and outwardly bubbly the cheerleader is, Stacy Čapek isn’t what everyone believes her to be. Maybe it’s the Zima way to internalize the way you feel. She’s watched Mika do it for so many years, so maybe that’s how she learned how to fake being happy when she was actually miserable. She didn’t always used to be like this, but for close to a year now, Stacy had to become a master at this because of her boyfriend.

Because of Dylan.

To many on the outside looking in, Dylan was the nicest boy they’d ever meet. Charming and compassionate (when he wanted to be). He was thoughtful. And Stacy still, on some level, thought that about him even to this day. Dylan was like the storm that hit Edenridge last night, the one that she spent the entirety of in Swerve Arcana. He could be gentle, but then when the overcast skies came and the downpour hit you, like a switch, Dylan Doyle was a nasty person. Rarely has he ever been physically violent with her…not like that was ever his method of choice. Dylan was a gaslighter. An emotional abuser. He was the kind of person, when he felt like being nasty, made her feel like it was her fault for doing something he deemed wrong. When she didn’t answer his calls, he made her feel like she should have picked up sooner.

It had been like this for close to half of a year, but last night -- or more accurately, this morning -- was when even Dylan had hit an all-time low.

It would be her luck that immediately following the best night in Stacy’s life would come a harsh reality check for her at the metaphorical hands of her boyfriend.

When she got home a little bit after 8am, she and Katie managed to return without their Uncle Gus and Aunt Ester finding out exactly where they were. As far as they knew and as far as they would ever know, they spent the night at a friend’s house. That friend, who conveniently didn’t have to worry about their parents, was known to cover for them. In truth, if they even knew they were heading into Edenridge, there was no doubt in Stacy’s mind they would be grounded until they became parents. It was smooth sailing once they got home, but Stacy’s brief dance with safety was short lived as she got a text message from Dylan.

Seeing the text and how it just read “Call me”, Stacy was hesitant. She didn’t want ot come off the euphoric high after being to experience how a good person treated another, but she knew it would only be worse. So Stacy called him back after locking her room.

“Hey, babe--”

Before she could finish, Dylan cut her off. “Can you meet me in Edenridge? I want to apologize. For how I may have sounded in the texts I sent you last night. Please, Stassie, I want to make it up to you.”

She was so confused. This wasn’t like the Dylan she feared would be on the other end of that call, but as she thought about it for a moment, occasional “Stassie? Are you there?” remarks coming from Dylan’s end, she buried her doubts deep and agreed.

Fast forward nearly an hour after getting ready, eating a light yogurt and mixed berry breakfast, Stacy drove her 2017 BMW 3 Cabrio from Pinehurst, taking the highway and taking the nearest exit into town. Stacy took the scenic route through town, going from the Southside to the Northside had been an adjustment for Stacy. Seeing how run down some parts in the south were, then going over the set of train tracks, it was like night and day. It amazed her just how much separated the status of wealth in this town, yet from what she’s seen, the only divide is physical.

As she drove through Main Street, turning a left on Woodland Avenue and then a right on Pleasantview, Stacy took to the old high school, which was now the upcoming Encanto Hotel and Casino. In front of it, she saw Dylan’s truck, as well as her boyfriend standing at the early stages of the construction of the hotel. She parked on the street and exited her car, feeling an eerie ominous feeling in the air. Dylan didn’t look at her. He just stared at the empty lot with some walls put up.

As Stacy approached, Dylan turned his head and smiled at her. “You are late.”

Her gentle smile immediately turned upside down on itself, much like the feeling in her stomach did whenever her boyfriend became unexpectedly nasty towards her. “Sorry. There was some traffic on the highway.” Stacy’s tone fell flat, almost robotic as she took her side next to Dylan. His hand was out like he was expecting her to read his mind. It took her a moment and she put it in his and he squeezed, but missed the hand altogether and was grabbing her wrist almost like it was a vice grip on her slender wrist. She kept any noise of discomfort inside and just gritted through it. “So, this is where the hotel is being built?”

Dylan nodded and then shrugged. “A waste if you ask me. Why build something that will cost more to build than it will bring into this poor excuse for a town? It has nothing over the hotels in Pinehurst.”

Stacy felt just how angry he was. Was it because of what she did last night? How she didn’t call him? How she ignored his texts? Stacy had learned in the past six months that, whenever Dylan got into a mood like this, she had to approach him as if he was thin ice on a New York Winter. The slightest misstep would trigger that storm-like anger her boyfriend had inside him. She was confident that she could do so right now, but something else was in the air. That ominous feeling she felt as soon as she saw him, she could tell it wasn’t just about her.

“What makes you say that, Dylan?” She hesitantly asked.

As he looked at her, his hazel eyes which were always so captivating and rarely showing a forest fire, she saw specs of the wildness a forest fire had. “It’s these…people.” He returned to the sight of the crew working. He focused on one and Stacy followed his line of sight and she saw Salvadore. Her heart was practically beating so fast she couldn’t control her breathing.

“What people?”

“Are you stupid or blind, Stassie?” He pointed to the crew. “Those working there. Some idiot reported me.”

“Reported you?” Stacy felt that familiar discomfort in her chest. Whenever Dylan was about to do something that still haunted her nightmares six months after the fact, she felt a tightness in her chest.

“You’re slow today, aren’t you? I was part of this crew, Stassie. I had a job here. I was going to still have one throughout the summer, but that fucking idiot in charge thought I was being too lazy.” His voice got louder, the tone in his voice becoming more bitter and bitter the longer he talked. Resentful. Stacy knew this tone of voice. She knew what was coming. “Me? I have never been lazy in my life. I carried the Monarchs last year. Without me, the baseball team would be nothing!” As his ire became more intense, Dylan squeezed harder on Stacy’s wrist.

“Dylan..” She whimpered, trying to free herself from his hold. “You’re hurting me. Please, calm down…” She begged him and immediately, as his sharp gaze fell on her watery eyes, she knew something he had never done was coming. Or maybe she feared he would hit her. In the time she had seen the real him, she always feared it would happen. She played dumb so she didn’t wouldn’t trigger it, but something in him was about to snap.

And instinctively, she tried to fight his grip off of her hand but he was too strong. He was deceivingly strong.

He looked at the fighting, petite girlfriend of his with a small laugh and a shocked expression on his face. “I would never hurt you, Stassie. I love you!” At this point, his voice was loud enough for the workers in the hotel site to hear. “You know this is just our thing. I grab your wrist and we play this game. Why are you acting like I did something wrong?” He jerked her close to him, never letting go of her wrist. “I mean, you want to make it up to me for ignoring me last night, don’t you?” As he said that, he lifted her wrist up. Stacy was a few inches shorter than Dylan, so that motion itself was hurting her arm even more than his vice grip on her wrist was.

Salvador had never planned on being a bricklayer. When he first got into college, his goal was to be a videogame designer. Much of his youth was spent traveling the world as his mother and father built hotels and casinos. His sister Cassandra soaked up all their skills like a sponge. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Cass was going to take over the family business. On those lonely nights, Sal found himself immersed in epic fantasy worlds as a Witcher, waiting for coins to be tossed his way or as a space commander about to go on a suicide mission with his ride or die Turian cop bro. The purpose of the young Montero’s life was to build worlds that made him feel like those games did when he had nothing else.

Then it happened.

Sal had returned to Miami for a break, to see his family and rest up after a hard semester. He wanted to surprise them. When he arrived at the hotel, it was late and quiet, more quiet than it should've been all things considered. When he walked into the office floor, Salvador was expecting his mother to jump up from her desk, run and hug him and then take him to the Twice Butter food truck for some tacos. Instead he was greeted by her mangled body, crumpled at the foot of the stairs. Her neck was twisted at an ungodly angle and blood was still leaking out of her nose and ears. They said it was an accident, that she slipped and fell. Yet knowing the business his family was in, Sal believed differently.

They said he was depressed. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, the world didn’t make sense. Even his games brought him no joy. He was struggling with his studies and all of his personal relationships had become extinct. The move to Edenridge was meant to be a change. Sal would defer college for a little while and spend some time with his extended family, the Gonzalez to find himself again. Getting a gig working on the new hotel wasn’t for a paycheck, he didn’t need the money, it was just to keep him busy.

He had spent the day dreaming about the girl from Swerve, Stacy. Sal just couldn’t get her out of his mind. He was knee deep in mud, laying bricks when he saw her pull up outside the construction site. At first he thought maybe she had come to see him but then he saw her with another guy, Dylan, the other worker called him. Apparently he had been fired the day before. He wasn’t crossing any boundaries so he wasn’t breaking any laws. At least that was until Sal saw him grab Stacy and the raised voices began. Now that was something he couldn’t abide. He knew, based on their interactions at Swerve, Stacy was scared of this guy and the last thing he wanted was Stacy. She was meant to be happy.

Jumping out of the foundation pit, Salvador charged towards the chain link fence, still with a brick in his hand and stormed around the corner until he was face to face with Dylan and Stacy. “Hey man, you need to let go of her and get the hell out of here.”

Dylan still held Stacy’s hand as tight as he had when he heard a voice and glanced over. He saw a little punk acting all tough. “Beat it, kid. This doesn’t concern you.” Dylan brushed him off almost immediately and he saw the way Stacy was trying not to look at him, but Dylan could see it. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right? You actually know this nerd?” His grip tightened. “Is this the chump you ignored me for? He has to be or why else are you acting this way?” His grip remained and he put his attention on the interfering idiot. “So is it true? You’re fucking my girlfriend, aren’t you?” He asked Sal while simultaneously tightening the grip on Stacy’s hand, which caused her to let out a painful moan as she tried to pull away (but to no avail).

“You need to let her go, back the fuck up and get in your truck.” Sal tried to remain calm despite every instinct to the contrary but the Latino heat he shared with all fellow men of the Montero/Gonzalez clan would not allow him to do so.. “I’m not fucking your girlfriend but if I was I would be treating her like the absolute Angel that she is. I wouldn’t be hurting her because my ego has taken a blow.” With that, Sal slapped down Dylan’s arm that was clutching into Stacy. “Leave now. There’s no place for you here and there’s no place for you beside Stacy. She deserves so much better.”

Dylan Doyle had a moment of shock when the nerd easily separated his hold from Stacy, who immediately backed away, grasping her clearly bruised wrist with her other. Dylan angrily snarled at his girlfriend only to redirect it on the interfering piece of shit that was about to regret every life choice. “Stassie, let this be a lesson to you and the company you keep.” His arrogance was showing and Dylan wasn’t even letting up. His head turned to Stacy, who was visibly terrified of her boyfriend. It was clear on the way she slowly moved herself closer to the construction site where Sal was and further away from him. “Last chance to apologize, Stass. Because what I’m about to do to your little side boyfriend won’t be pretty--”

WHACK

The brick bounced off of Dylan’s skull and knocked the snarling boy to the ground. Salvador immediately dropped the block and took a step back, his hand shaking. He didn’t want to do that but did he have a choice? Dylan was hurting Stacy and would’ve definitely attacked him. At that moment, Sal asked himself what his cousin ReyRey would do? Rey was the leader of the Serpents and to Salvador he was the coolest guy in any room. He was so confident, so in control. Nobody dared mess with Reynaldo and his people. Sal wanted that. He was sick and tired of people, nay the world, messing with him and the people he cared about; people like Stacy.

He turned to face the young girl and reached out his still quivering hand. He wasn’t scared of what he had done, he was more scared that she would be frightened of him now. Though he stood by it, Sal had to do it, to protect her. “Are you ok?”

Stacy was frozen where she stood. She had disassociated from reality the moment she was free from Dylan’s vice grip. Nothing after that registered until she heard Sal’s soothing voice. The tenderness in his eyes, when she met them she could only nod as she saw Dylan on the ground. He wasn’t unconscious, but he wasn’t moving much. She wanted to ask what happened, but close to his feet, she saw a brick with blood on it. She again went to her…to Dylan and saw a sizable gash on his forehead with traces of that reddish-brown brick inside it. Slowly, but absolutely sure of it: Sal had hit Dylan with that brick. She didn’t know what to think of it, but part of her was happy he did. Dylan had gotten progressively worse as of late and this was the most violent he ever became with her.

She just didn’t know.

“You motherfucker! You’ll pay for this!” Dylan cursed, getting up as he held his forehead with one of his hands. He saw how chummy Stacy and that cheapshot fucker were and he laughed. Boldly and almost psychotically, he was laughing. “You know, I really tried with you, Anastasia, but I guess even someone as pretty as you can only do so much.” At his feet, Dylan glared at Sal. “Fine, I’m out of here. When she starts seeing other dudes behind your back, you might want to know who to call. Dylan Doyle. Remember that name when you need advice.” Despite his condition, Dylan left. Sure the larger men at the site staring at him were reason enough, but Dylan had lost all interest in Stassie and he was worth way more than what she was capable of giving.

As she watched Dylan climb into his F150 and it revved down the street, Stacy’s lips quivered. “Maybe he’s right…” She heard herself say. Out loud it sounded so stupid and ridiculous, but that’s what Dylan had called her. Maybe she was stupid. Maybe she truly wasn’t worth anything.

“Absolutely not.” Sal wouldn’t allow her to finish whatever sad thought was lingering in her brain. “Don’t let him get in your head.” Dylan Doyle. He would remember the name but not for the reasons that Longstreet wanted him to. Salvador would remember him in case he tried to come back, in case he tried to do anything like this again. He had known a lot of men like Dylan Doyle. Men who were so small on the inside that they had to abuse others to make them feel important. In those next few seconds he knew that if he ever saw Dylan again, he would kill him.

The young man from Miami didn’t want to encroach on Stacy’s personal space, especially considering what he had just gone through but he felt that she needed the comfort. Sal took a step forward, reaching out and cupping her face with his hand. “I’m here, you’re ok. Why don’t we get you outta here? Can I take you home? Or somewhere you’d feel safe?”

She was trying not to let what Dylan said take root in her mind, but even a poisonous tree had to lay its fruit somewhere and it was spreading wildly inside. It was feeding off of the long standing effects Dylan’s gaslighting and the many kinds of emotional abuse had left on Stacy’s self-worth. He had reduced her to a doubting shell of the once vibrant girl she was before him, but as she felt the aura of Sal’s compassion near her, she smiled just thinking about him. Then again smiled more when she felt his hand on her face. His touch was gentle and warm. It radiated something she hadn’t felt from someone who held a genuine concern in their heart for her.

She brought her hand up over his and closed her eyes. She wanted to savor this moment. Prolong this feeling she couldn’t shake. “I…don’t want to go home yet.” Stacy really didn’t. She wanted to be with Sal. She didn’t know what might happen, but she wasn’t ready to face her family right now. “Can we just..go for a drive? Through town maybe?” She had opened her eyes finally, feeling the tears go down her hot face. “Or even just a walk..” The truth was Stacy didn’t care where they went. She just wanted to spend time with Sal for as long as she could. Live in a bliss where she didn’t have to think or talk about Dylan Doyle anymore.

“Sure, of course we can.” Sal knew the look of someone who didn’t want to go home. Hell, he had seen it in the mirror a lot himself whenever he thought about his Mom. He felt her fingertips tracing the veins on the back of his hand, traversing every bump and freckle. “Though I haven’t got a car here yet so we’ll have to walk wherever you wanna go.” He glanced over at the other workers as they turned their heads and continued to ply their trade. He knew that if he dipped out early with Stacy, they wouldn’t breathe a word. Sal was the son of Esteban Montero, the cousin of ReyRey, nephew to Big Rey. He was untouchable. Lacing his fingers with hers, Sal dropped them down to their waists and began to lead Stacy away from the construction site. “How about we walk down to Swerve? Or maybe that nice coffee shop on the corner, Beau’s? Maybe both.”

There was a part of the Capek girl who wanted to mention her car was down the street, but when Sal took her hand and started to walk her down the street, in addition to her heart beating like it did last night, Stacy didn’t want to ruin what was the first time she was at peace. Dylan was gone and Sal was here. She knew nothing bad would happen to her as long as she was by his side. Was it blind faith to trust someone she had only known for less than a day? Maybe. She could hear Mika’s voice in the back of her head, but at the same time, she knew her big brother would want her to be with someone who made her feel safe. Who could protect her when she couldn’t do that herself.

Someone like Sal.

“I’d like that. Very much.” She muttered tenderly, moving closer to Sal as she looked at him. She felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach and smiled. This was giving way to a new beginning for Anastasia Capek.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP: Tuesday, July 21st || After Back Home
Introducing: Hiroshi "Ross" Takahashi
FT: Nadine Navarro & Mr. Beau ^@BrutalBx
Small FT: Eloise Anderson}

______________________________________________________________________



______________________________________________________________________

In the week since he returned to the town he once called home and after an 8-week stint at a rehab facility in Boston, Hiroshi didn’t know how to feel about being back. He didn’t know what to feel. For the entire week, he felt numb (for a lack of better words). Just a short few months ago, he still had everything going for him. He was about to finish up his final year at MIT. He was going to graduate, be someone who his family could be proud of: his mother, his father, Monica, and Matilda. Everyone he felt like he had ever disappointed, graduating with that degree from such a prestigious school would make up for all of his shortcomings that he had in his life.

But he couldn’t get a handle on a growing problem. It made him erratic. Act meaner than Ross was ever normally like. To those who knew him before his addiction, he was a sweet person, but whether from stress, the pills, or just a toxic chemical solution of both, he became somebody nobody recognized. He first had an intervention from his friends at MIT and when that didn’t work, his family got involved. They staged a more aggressive intervention, one that actually worked. There were hard truths stated. Some he knew on some level, but others were a lot harder to swallow than most of the pills he had been shoving into his body in the past couple of years.

It resulted in a do or die ultimatum. His life was out of control and this was the last resort. And even though he was receptive to the process at the time, being back after just a week, it saved his life. Rehab saved his life and helped him get to the root of the issue of his addiction. Why did he start using? What made him turn to it? He couldn’t cop out and say that he wanted to focus for school and be the best. That wasn’t owning up to anything. He couldn’t heal unless Ross stared it into the face and he did. It was the most terrifying experience in his life, but Ross acknowledged the real reasons why he first turned to it. Why he kept going back to that oni and embracing it, submerging himself in it.

When it all came down to it, Ross felt like a disappointment to himself and to his family by not being the best. He put too many expectations on himself. And it all started in high school. The first person whose name wasn’t Takahashi that he hurt was Nadine Navarro.

Ross was horrible to her and even more so the last time he saw her. How was he supposed to make that right? In addition, Ross heard some truly horrific news. He was staying with a friend at a Kori Plaza apartment until he could get on his feet. Through some of his family and generally others that he surprisingly had good faith with, he heard about Nadine’s father, Reymond. His phone wouldn’t stop blowing up about it. About how he suffered a “work-related health problem”. Eventually the group chats that he was lurking talked about it in further detail about it being a stroke.

What should Ross do with this information? Was he someone that Nadine wanted to hear from? The last impression he left on her was far from perfect. He made her cry and that will be an image that has haunted his sobriety for two months and especially in the week since he returned. He needed to make amends, but part of him felt genuine pain for Nadine and maybe this could be the start of rebuilding a bridge with her in some way. He had to make the first step. He knew he had to. If nothing else, Ross needed to do it for himself so he could tell himself he wasn’t going to run away from these problems that plagued his soul.

So in a series of text messages, Ross took that step.

Nadine
Hey..Nadine. It’s Ross. Not sure if you still have my number saved or not… (1 of 5)
But I heard about your dad. I’m really sorry. About everything…If there’s anything I can do… (2 of 4)
What am I saying? I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, much less hear from. (3 of 4)
But, if you ever wanted to get some coffee, talk about it. Or you can just block my number right now. You owe me nothing, but I just thought I’d reach out. (4 of 5)
Anyway, if I hear back from you, call or text me anytime. Or if not, then I understand.
Ross. (5 of 5)

His heart started to beat like crazy. He hadn’t felt this kind of high since he was actually high. There was no better high for a recovering addict than doing the right thing and attempting to make amends.

Having finished cooking and after making sure her father got some food in his system, Nadie put away the breakfast and lunch she used as a distraction while she waited for her sister’s arrival. Both her father and sister were now sound asleep in their rooms and she was left to herself to either think or game. Surprisingly, Lolly wasn’t online. That was… weird because Lolly was always online. Amity was a busy girl and had a strict streaming and gaming schedule, so Nadie knew when to expect her fiery, chaotic Lyon friend. Marco had been busy as of late too and that was likely due to him getting in a relationship. He wasn’t the best liar and the last time they all gamed together, Lolly could hear a boy in the background. She immediately interrogated Marco and in time he pleaded the fifth, which was enough for the three girls to learn that their dear friend was no longer on the market.

With no close friends to play with, Nadie started up Sims to brainlessly play ‘house’ with her longest lasting family in the game. As she waited for the screen to load, she grabbed her phone to text Lolly to make sure she was okay or if the girl actually passed out at her desk. Before she could get to her friend’s name, she was suddenly bombarded by text messages. When she saw who it was from, having never gained the courage to block his number, her heart sank. He was simply named ‘Ross’ in her phone and now that she actually could read his name, feelings of the past flooded her senses.

Why was he messaging her?

Placing the phone down, not reading his messages, she leaned in her gaming chair, clasped her hands together and placed her lips against them, deep in thought. If Daisy found out he contacted her she would lose her mind. Was it worth getting her heart broken again? She never did hate him. Not really. What they had in highschool was… strange, but deep down, she knew she admired him. He was the smartest person she ever knew and that pushed her to keep studying and trying her best to match him in all subjects. They were competitive rivals, not enemies but on graduation day it made her realize that the idea of friends she had inside her head was all one sided.

He hated her.

She could feel tears well up in her eyes. Nadie was already dealing with so much and she had no one to lean on. Her squad, the Smile Riot Gremlins, they all thought she had everything together. If anything, they needed her and she couldn’t burden them with her silly insecurities and imperfections. Her sister had moved to the Philippines and after the shooting, there was a fire in Daisy’s eyes that Nadie would never want to hold back. Her mom, Jaya, couldn’t stand her for choosing her father over her but in Nadie’s head, it wasn’t even like that. Her decision to stay in the states wasn’t about which parent was better or not. It was about not leaving her father alone and not losing the small group of friends she did have. Edenridge was her home. Sure, she loved her culture, she loved her roots, and she loved her mom but leaving Edenridge… that just wasn’t something she wanted to do.

At the time she made that decision, she thought she could balance college, take care of her workaholic dad, run her mom’s cleaning business she left behind, and still have some sort of social life even if it was mostly in the virtual world. It turns out young Nadie was far too ambitious and she burnt out, fast. Her life now consisted of keeping up with the house, making sure her father remembers to eat, still running the cleaning business that she’s pretty sure is falling straight to the gutter with only the Quinns left as employees, and… she dropped out. She was trying to get a PhD in Computer Science. She was a smart girl and IT was a stable career path but it all became too much. So, she sat down with her father and he said it was okay for her to take a break and focus on her mental health. Her mother didn’t like that, of course. And from that point on, she hadn’t been back to college since.

The unrealistic expectations her mother had on her always seemed to put her between a rock and a hard place. Nothing she ever did was good enough. She could never win against her mom. Eventually, Jaya did come to terms that her daughter would stay with Reymond and decided to use that to her advantage to keep Navarro Cleaning running. Nadine Navarro was barely staying afloat and all she had was her gaming friends to make her feel like she was worth something. She was good at hiding behind a mask but even strong people need hands to hold and shoulders to cry on.

“Stop it,” Nadie scolded herself, wiping the tears that started to trail down her cheeks. She needed to get a grip. Ross was probably just trying to troll her or something. If she was that afraid of him messaging her, she would’ve blocked him a long time ago. Her eyes went back to the phone, his messages waiting for her. Why didn’t she block him? Another long minute or two passed. This was ridiculous. All she had to do was ignore him and be done with it. Why couldn’t she just move on? Controlling her breathing, giving herself an internal pep talk, she reached for the phone and opened up his messages, finally reading it.

Her mask was completely gone as her eyes trailed down the thread. Frowning deeply, she stared at every sentence, every word, and every period and felt a deep ache in her chest. He sounded like he wasn’t doing good, like this act in itself took a lot of courage to do. He sounded like he needed help. He sounded like he needed her.

“What are you even saying?” Nadie asked herself out loud. “Ross doesn’t need you. He never needed you.” Her phone was back down on her desk. “Why… why should I?” Still, Nadie knew that ignoring him was going against her nature and that he deserved a second chance, if that’s what he was seeking, no matter how much he did hurt her. One of her faults was being too forgiving and maybe this was one of those times where she should block and ignore, for her own sake. If she did respond, would he hurt her again?

Grumbling to herself, Nadie went against her better judgment and picked up her phone again. Throwing all logic out the door, she texted back:

Ross
Are you free now?

There was nearly no hesitation. Less than three minutes and Ross sent another series of text messages.

Nadine
Yes. I’m free now! (1 of 2)
Is there a place you would like to meet up at? Could be in public if that’s what you’d prefer. Or whatever you like! (2 of 2)

Ross
I need to get ready… (1 of 2)
Beau’s in 20. (2 of 2)

Ross was out of his friend’s apartment. At a corner store just half a mile away, past Lyon Park. His cravings were more than just out of the anxiety he was feeling. It was old habits coming to say hello. In rehab, he learned how to quell that particular thirst with something sweet. So he got about five twinkies. The cashier gave him a dirty look and he fibbed, saying he was getting them for a couple friends. Something about how eating five twinkies by yourself just seemed odd to some people. He had one hell of a sweet tooth growing up, but now it was to put his cravings to pop a pill - any that numbed pain - with the spongy goodness with a cream filling.

As he exited the store, his phone buzzed and he saw Nadine was actually willing to see him. He wasn’t a religious man - not in any sense - but someone above was looking out for him. Deep down, Ross didn’t feel like he deserved a second chance. How could he bring himself to think that? He hurt Nadine to the point of tears. That was the worst part of it all. He remembered exactly what he said to her. It came to him when sobriety officially did. Unlike the past where he would take a couple antidepressants that he scored rather easily from a dealer that lived in the same dorm he did, Ross was forced to face what he had done. Rehab was supposed to be about healing and he did somewhat, but nothing could heal him of his guilt.

Not even the second chance Nadine was seemingly giving him.

It took him a few minutes to exit the abyss that was his mind, but Ross finally texted back.

Nadine
Heading there now!

There was no turning back now. As soon as he crossed the tracks, Ross had a lot to think about. What would he say? Should he even say anything? Just…so many thoughts going through his mind right now. Too many thoughts to even it out, so he just focused on getting to Beau’s as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to be late to what might possibly be the most important (and equally as terrifying) meet up in his life.

Since she lived at Pleasantview, Nadine was only five minutes away from Cafe Rochambeau. She took ten minutes to freshen up, tiptoeing back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom that was right beside Daisy’s room. She didn’t want him to comment on her dark circles so the first thing she did was wash her face and do her make up. When she was done with that, she spent the next six minutes throwing an outfit together and putting it on. Two minutes to do her hair. One minute to spare where he would hopefully be there waiting for her. She wasn’t planning on getting there on time. The least he could do was wait until she was ready and now she was. Nervous and ready to see the boy that hurt her in highschool.

Quietly, Nadine exited her apartment, leaving the two sleeping people to rest, hoping she didn’t make too much noise to wake them up. Truth be told, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. Her heart was in the driver’s seat leading her to a boy she knew she had conflicted feelings for. It was time to meet her tormentor. Man, she was in over her head. Daisy was going to be so disappointed in her when she found out and Nadie knew: Daisy would find out.

Ross had already found himself in a booth and with no twinkies remaining. Taking the journey in the state he was in had made him hungry. His anxiety always triggered his hunger and even though they were empty calories, they did the job. Not like he came to Rochambeau with the intention of eating anything. As he was right now, even if Mr. Beau offered him anything, he wouldn’t know what he might want. He sat in the booth, hands on the table, fingers interlocked with each other and just stared into the distance of the other side of the booth. Pondering. Thinking about what he would say when Nadine showed up.

Yeah, what can you say, Ross?

He was the one who reached out first. He was the one who texted her and set everything in motion. “Maybe this was a mistake after all…” Just as he had half-decided he wasn’t going to go through with this, he heard the bell above the door ring and there she was. And whether it was the fact she was actually here or how she looked even more beautiful than he had remembered, Ross parked it, frozen in place with literally nowhere to go and nothing he could do but wait for the moment of truth to come in the form of his high school rival.

The moment she stepped into the cafe the smell of warm, baked goods and coffee filled her nostrils. She didn’t indulge in dessert often, constantly reminded by her friends that gamers have unhealthy habits, but today, maybe she could treat herself. She didn’t want to overeat or her mother would comment on her weight but the cafe smelt delicious and she didn’t want Ross to think she was nervous. She was, but he didn’t need to know that.

Burying her nerves, she found Ross sitting and staring, she waved at him and smiled, before making her way to her former English teacher, “Hi, Mr. Beau. Is that your ma’s Beignets I’m smelling?”

“Miss Navarro!” Beau greeted the young, Filipino beauty with his usual toothy smile. He dusted his sausage like fingers on his apron after placing down a jar of strong cinnamon and turned to the main point of the counter. “It is always a pleasure to see one of my favorite valedictorians enter my shop and humble me with their presence.” Nadine had always been a fantastic student and a pure pleasure to teach. Antoine remembered her speech and just how moved he was by her words. He also remembered how difficult it initially was for her thanks to a certain other student of his, who happened to be sitting in a nearby booth. “And yes, your nose is right. You are smelling the Lord’s second greatest gift to us. The first being love, of course.”

He leaned down on his elbows as his chestnut eyes drifted over to Ross. Such a talent, such potential. It was a great tragedy that the young man had fallen deep into the throes of addiction. Though from what Beau had heard, Ross was slowly climbing out of that fissure steeped in darkness and was on the way back towards the sunlight and sobriety. “What are you having, Miss Navarro? The gentleman in booth three has already covered the cost.”

“Well,” Nadie took a moment to look over her shoulder back at Ross, who still looked dumbfounded. Clearing her throat, she brought her attention back to Beau, interlocked her fingers together, and politely answered, “I was thinking a half a dozen Beignets so me and my…” she hesitated, not really knowing what to consider Ross at this time. A friend? An associate? An acquaintance? “...peer could have some leftovers to take back to our families. And two hot cocoas. Please.” As she looked away from Ross and straight at her teacher, she averted her gaze. Although her anxiety and fear was buried behind a mask, someone as wise as Beau could see right through her. Nadie didn’t know if she was doing the right thing but at this point, she was already here and couldn’t turn back. She needed to commit and make sure her poker face was on point.

“You got it, Mon Cherie.” Beau reached to the side and picked up some tongs with one hand and one of the many wicker baskets that Colleen made in her spare time. As he began to fill the container with his mothers famous Beignets, he again watched the body language of both Ross and Nadine. Their rivalry was one that stretched for years, four years that he had seen at least. Hell, he and principal Payne, rest his soul, had a running dollar bet as to whether they would get married. If they ever did, Antoine would leave a dollar and change at the poor man’s grave.

“There ain’t no need to be nervous, Miss Navarro.” Beau began as he placed the basket down and began to mix up the drinks. The steam from the milk frother began to rise up from behind the counter whilst the former teacher watched its temperature. “Mister Takahashi is in the exact same boat as you and I don’t mean one of those fancy mega yachts down at Collin’s Port. He’s in a rubber dingy, white knuckling because he doesn’t know how the next two minutes are going to go.” Putting the piping hot milk jug to one side, Beau dropped several teaspoons of cocoa powder into some mugs before pouring in the contents of the jug. “There ain’t no waterfall at the end of that conversation. Not if you don’t want there to be.”

“I just,” Nadie spoke quietly, shy and sheepish, which wasn’t her innate nature. Always the ambitious, driven spirit when she wants to reach her goals. Sadly, as of late, Nadie had no goals. She didn’t know what she was doing with her life. All she knew was, she was running a business she didn’t care about, her father was sick, her mother was crazy, and her sister was worried about her. “I don’t know what he’s been through and I don’t want to say anything to upset him.” Somehow, Nadie was twisting the narrative and blaming herself for how they fell apart, as if she could predict Ross taking out his frustrations on her in the past.

“Baby girl, ain’t that just a regular conversation?” Beau smiled as he placed the two mugs of chocolate onto a tray and began adding extras. He swirled some cream on top and sprinkled atop some cinnamon and orange zest. “All we do is dance around each other, never knowing whether the next step is right or wrong. We can’t predict that. We shouldn’t want to. What happens next? Well that’s just one of life’s great little adventures isn’t it? And if I remember rightly, Miss Navarro isn’t afraid of a little adventure.” Antoine finished the chocolates with some marshmallows before sliding the tray down the counter to Nadine. “You got this honey but if you don’t, quack three times and I’ll pull the fire alarm.”

Easing her shoulders, Nadie gave a genuine, earnest smile. She knew one of her biggest flaws was bottling everything up. It was nice to get a piece of advice before she embarked on this journey where the destination was unknown. There was no use in thinking of the outcome. This wasn’t like a math formula or a scientific hypothesis. This was life, her life, and she had to be focused on the moment, taking this conversation one second at a time. “Thank you, Mr. Beau,” she appreciatively said. Her eyes closed, as she took a deep breath in and out. She totally got this. All this was, was a regular conversation. That’s it.

Opening her eyes, she asked one last question, “Actually, can I get a small cup of powdered sugar please? Knowing Ross he’s going to want to drown his beignet in pure sugar…” She grimaced at the thought. Their sweet intake definitely was NOT compatible. She liked sweets, don’t get her wrong, but not as much as Ross did.

Beau let out a small bit hearty laugh, Payne definitely owed him a dollar. “Sure thing Mon Petite.” He reached under the counter and quickly poured the requested powdered sugar into a small takeaway cup and handed it over to Nadine. “Good luck.”

Holding the tray, Nadie gave her former English teacher a little nod before turning to face the booth that Ross was sitting at. Internally, she was continuing her pep talk from where she had left off, moments before her conversation with Beau. Externally, she hid her chattering teeth and kept a small smile on her face. After another short moment, she was at the table, placing the tray in the middle of it, right in front of Ross. “Still with a sweet tooth?” she inquired. Her brown eyes met his and they were closer in proximity, which they hadn’t been in years.

Ross watched Nadine approach the table. He took slow breaths, inhaling and exhaling before she sat down. If she was going through with it and not deciding to back away, then he couldn’t either. When she sat down, putting the tray of delicious-looking beignets and one cup of hot cocoa for each of them, Ross smiled. First at the tray of food that had his mouth salivating, but then at Nadine. Four years was a long time to go without saying or speaking to someone under normal circumstances, let alone to someone he hurt more than he had ever hurt himself. “These days, it’s become my top food group.” He said quietly. The air was tense with the ghosts of the past and Ross felt their weight on his back.

“That’s not very healthy,” Nadie teased, grabbing her mug of hot chocolate and holding it with both of her hands. One of her habits was if she wasn’t keeping her hands busy with writing or gaming or cooking or whatever, she needed to hold something. It’s why she clasps her hands together so much. Whether she was holding herself or a mug in this case, she was given a sense of security. There was a brief silence that surrounded them as she took a sip of her drink. When she placed the mug down, keeping her grasp tightly around it, she casually asked, leading the charge, “So how are you?”

He couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape through his mostly closed lips. He didn’t think he would feel anything other than the dread and weight he felt up until now, but Nadine was the same as she always was. Despite everything, she still teased. Either she was the same before it all or she was just really good at hiding it. Like Ross was doing. Like Ross was trying to do. He took one of the beignets and dipped in the hot chocolate. He needed a sweet fix. The twinkies weren’t lasting long enough. As he took a bite, he was in heaven, if not for a short moment. WIth a semi-full mouth, he tried to say, “In heaven at the moment,” then took a drink of his cocoa to wash it down. “Sorry…I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve had one of Mr. Beau’s Beignets. Too long…” Yeah, because he hasn’t been himself in years.

As much as Ross wanted to, he didn’t pull his gaze away from Nadine. He couldn’t do that. “I guess the only way to answer that is to say I’m feeling…reflective of the past. It’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

Nadie watched as he dipped his beignet in his drink and devoured it. He ate the same, at least. Releasing her mug, she grabbed the cup of extra powder and pushed it toward him, just in case he wanted it but hadn’t noticed it. One of Nadine’s traits was that she was constantly attentive to everyone around her. She knew how to make someone feel seen. Simply through an observation, she could get a good read on them.

Right now, that was exactly what she was focused on. How he looked at her softly, deeply, and desperately. What he was feeling. Any telltale sign that showed his intentions. In his eyes, the windows to his soul, she saw his humanity and she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. “What exactly?” she forwardly asked, before adding context, “has been on your mind?”

There was an eerie quiet following her question. Ross took another beignet, this time adding more powdered sugar on it. Be it a byproduct of his sobriety or the tension building in the air, he devoured another in silence and washed it down with another giant sip of his cocoa. “Well…” He bit his lip, biding his time, but also making sure he didn’t screw this up. Ross had practiced what he was going to say to Nadine so many times. When he first addressed his demons in group, Ross avoided the core issue of it all. He avoided talking about it or at least never owned up to it until one person told it to him straight.

Conrad was his name. He helped Ross understand why he needed to take rehab seriously and look deep within. The issues were within himself. He used because he couldn’t handle the harsh realities that he wasn’t the perfect son or brother. He blamed himself and he didn’t want to feel that disappointment. The results were catastrophic. He had to face them head on. Just like he did in group. Just like he was doing now. “I keep thinking to that day. Our graduation. It keeps replaying in my mind over and over again. Like a broken record.” Ross could only imagine what might be going through Nadine’s mind when he brought up that day. “I wasn’t well that day, Nadine. Or that entire year. Not for a couple years after the fact. I don’t know if you ever heard about it from my family or maybe through the grapevine, but.” He paused only because everything in him was playing a game of tug of war in his mind. Telling him not to do it. Some part in the jigsaw that was his mind was trying to convince Ross she wouldn’t believe him. Maybe she wouldn’t, but this wasn’t about whether or not the person he hurt the most believed him. He had to say it. He had to attempt to make things right. “…I’m an addict. I’ve been an addict since junior year.” His stomach felt like it was sinking into a never-ending hole and god, his heart was on fire. This was the first time he ever uttered the words ‘I’m an addict’ outside of group. It was terrifying, yet in a way, liberating.

Part of her knew he was going through something since then. Part of her never wanted to ask because it never felt like her place. Once he said those hateful words to her, on graduation day no less, her very reality seemed to shatter, like a broken mirror. Nadine chose to block him out. Any mentions of him by people around her or on social media, she ignored. She didn’t want to hear his name. She couldn’t handle it. Everytime she did, she felt so much pain because what he did to her, how he treated her, felt like a stab in the back. Their friendship wasn’t perfect but she never thought he would ever push her away like he did. Back then she made herself believe she meant more to him but boy was she a fool.

“You hurt me, Hiroshi,” Nadie defeatedly whispered. “You fucking hurt me…” she broke contact with him to look into her mug, trying her best to not cry. She didn’t like crying. She didn’t like being seen as weak. “What do you want me to say?” she asked the air, aimlessly just like she was in her life. “I don’t know what to say.” A teardrop fell into the hot chocolate.

He never wanted to be the reason she cried again. All those nights he laid awake, replaying the endless loop of that night on repeat, Ross had promised himself over and over again: I’ll never make her cry again. If I ever get that second chance, I won’t be the reason, yet he was about to be. In his mind, he wanted to say something. Do something, but then those words that Conrad had always told him: The road to recovery is about your recovery as it is about those you’ve hurt.

Those words became his philosophy and it remained true even now. “You don’t have to say anything. Or you can say everything you have been bottling up for the past four years.” Ross kept his gaze on Nadine. He saw her pain, the tear falling down her face. He knew more than anyone that letting it out was the best thing, but only she could make that decision. Only thing Ross could do was be the person he should have been all those years ago. “So let me ask you, Nadine. How are you? What’s on your mind?”

Grabbing her mug once more, not taking another sip, just doing it to hold it, Nadie stammered, “I… I’m okay, I- I think.” She wasn’t okay. Who was she trying to fool? With her heart on her sleeves, she shook her head, in disagreement with herself. “N-no. No, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for… awhile.”

As much as Nadie wanted to gain the courage to look up at him, she couldn’t. She was ashamed. “I’m, I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what I did and I know, I know you just told me what you were going through… but I don’t understand, I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” She squeezed her eyelids shut, hoping she could keep the tears in as she tried to speak her mind, terrified of the repercussions. Terrified of his reaction. “If winning valedictorian meant that much to you. I- I would’ve turned it down. It isn’t like I’m putting it to good use. It isn’t like I’m anything anymore and maybe I, I was always nothing. I’m sorry, Ross.” The tears escaped, her watery eyes no longer able to hold tight, as her breathing continued to be choppy. She proceeded to cover her face. Why was seeing him this hard? Why did it hurt so much?

Ross thought if he told Nadine what was happening with him back then and how he was trying to come to terms with his disease, then it would provide some context. But that wasn't the whole truth. His addiction was just the accelerant, but the root of it all was far deeper. Maybe he was afraid to say it out loud, even now, or just he didn’t know before now how he would let it out. In his own weakness, again, Ross was the reason she was crying. Again, because of him, Nadine was crying. Unlike last time, he could do something about it.

“That’s..I mean, I thought if I told you it would somehow absolve me of the pain I caused you. I thought if I told you it would be okay, but nothing is okay. Valedictorian did mean something, but it wasn’t the only thing.” Ross had always enjoyed the time spent competing against Nadine. From the moments they shared against each other in debates, on tests for top marks, to even those moments at parties where they were more than just rivals. More than their grades. “I have always admired you. You pushed me to be better and I think I did the same for you. Debates were fun, if not frustrating. But somewhere along that line, I put too much pressure on myself. I was slipping. I thought if I didn’t succeed, if I wasn’t the best, I wouldn’t be anyone worth being proud of. At some point, I lost sight of who I was and focused only on winning and I thought if I took a few pills every now and then, I could devote all of my time and energy to studying, increasing my test scores and being the best, but I know that’s not how it works.”

Ross lowered his head in shame, shaking off the emotions that were coming to the surface and he raised it. He had to face Nadine even if she wasn’t. “When it was announced you won and I didn’t, I..I don’t know, I thought my dreams of making my family proud…making myself proud ended there and I abused the pills. Took other stuff that messed with my brain chemistry. I became erratic and emotionally irrational. I said so many hurtful things to you - things I can’t ever take back or make right. If I could, I would take it all back right now.” His lip quivered and as much as he wanted to leave it there, Ross felt like he had to say one more thing…no, he needed to say one more thing. “You were never nothing, Nadine. You have always been the best of the two of us. The better student. The better test-taker. And the stronger person.”

The more he talked, the more her breathing settled. The more she calmed down. She sat still, her face buried but she was no longer crying. She was listening to his words. When he said he’d take it all back, her hands dropped to her skirt and she glanced up at him. Her make up was hardly flaky because it was waterproof but her eyes carried so much heaviness, so much weight. Nadine was tired. “That’s a lie.” No longer stuttering, she shook her head in protest. “I don’t think you realize how many hours I spent trying to understand things just so I could keep up with you. But not even that, I get an A-minus and my mom is giving that look that I hate so much. You didn’t have to try. Everything came so easy to you. I wanted to be better because I didn’t want you to leave me behind and in the end, you didn’t…” she stopped herself, realizing what she was about to say.

You didn’t want me.

There was heat suddenly coursing through her body. Her cheeks kissed pink as her heart skipped a beat. What was she saying?

As she opened her mouth to backtrack, the bell of Beau’s entrance went off and a small goblin girl came stampeding in, rushing to Nadine’s side. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY NADIE?!” The next moments happened so fast, like a blink of an eye, that no one who was already in the cafe could process it. Lolly was quick to gather all the beignets on the table, throwing them right in her backpack, making sure to side eye Ross as she did so. Once she pulled Nadie to her feet, she was rushing out the door with her friend in tow. Well, not really. She was pulling Nadie out with her, giving her little to no choice. How dare a stupid boy make her friend cry!

Nadie tried to protest but it was a losing battle.

“Wait… Lol-” They were out of the cafe, the door shutting behind them, and just like that, Nadine was gone.

“What in the great heavenly Buddha was that? Or who was that?” Like a storm, Ross heard an obnoxiously loud, kinda short girl come in, yell something at him, steal all the remaining beignets and take Nadine, leaving him with so many questions. Who was that? Why did she seem to have a problem with Ross? What was Nadine going to say before she was cut off by the tiny stranger? Ross had so many questions that he needed answered.

“Never a dull moment,” Beau deeply sighed, wiping down the counter as he waited for his next customer. He would’ve said something if he had the time but Miss Anderson came in as fast as words could fly. Glancing up from the counter, he muttered to himself, “I knew she could do it,” before raising his voice, grabbing the attention of the gentleman who sat at booth three, his former student, “Mister Takahashi, don’t forget to pay.”

𝘼 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙄𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 — A Pokemon Story

---

The ever eccentric and unpredictable Doctor Oak led the two ladies, who couldn’t have been any further apart, inside the villa. The technical mansion according to all official dictionaries out there, but calling it one wasn’t accurate, but to those who weren’t in the know of just what exactly this spacious building was, it was fair to assume it was a mansion. From the outside, it certainly had the appearance of one, but going through the large, blue and white oak doors, the outside aesthetic of the manor compared to what was actually inside was surely a culture shock for the two young women.

“What the?” Miki was the first to pipe up.

“Take your time. It’ll certainly take some to adjust to.”

In truth, while the outside of the manor, mansion…villa may have seemed homey and unassuming. Like a regular place of luxury, inside was vastly different. For the three-story building, the inside was like something out of a science fiction fan’s wet dream. Like a utopia of technology inside one building. Tubes that brought in letters flowed from the ground, up to the highest floor, tiny robots flying all over the place, taking each of those letters and absorbing them into their two-foot bodies, automated noises coming immediately afterward. They all went up to the top floor where the vague sight of a giant monitor was seen.

But only slightly.

“Melissa Elliot, Miki Park - this is where I must apologize and deeply regret some things.” Gary Oak stepped forward as he gestured the two girls to follow him. They’d step into the center of the high-tech interior that alerted Miki (and no doubt Melissa) to a sharp sound as the platform beneath their feet had a fast, green light circle around them clockwise and then the platform itself, a circular one that was at least five feet all around, started to float up.

“Whoa! This is rad!” Miki exclaimed excitedly, unable to contain it. She always had been a kid at heart even if her exterior didn’t always show it.

“Yes, it is quite rad! I designed it myself.” Gary also couldn’t help himself. An invention of his own being so well-recepted was the dream of any artist and make no mistake: given what was around them and all that Gary had achieved in just a short few years, he was undoubtedly an artist. “But allow me to continue from before.”

As the platform stopped at the highest floor and the sight of the big screen that could have been partially seen from the ground floor was revealed to both girls, it was evident that the reasons they came here was not what they probably thought. On the screen were various mini-screens of all the regions in the world, monitoring every city and every route, all the various landmarks, geological phenomena, caves and lakes, and the cities and small towns. The various Pokemon Leagues. All were under an intricate system of GPS, infrared, and drones scanning all edges of the world.

“You two both came here with letters. Given the coordinates to come to what used to be Battle Frontier Island for very different reasons. One for strength and a chance to prove yourself and another…” He turned around to face both girls and looked at Melissa. “For means of supporting yourself. And that is all true. I didn’t lie about anything that you were promised. Money and strength are all within grasp, but I did omit a few things from your letters.”

Miki was overwhelmed…No, overwhelmed was just scratching the surface. She didn’t know how she felt or what she felt. The Lava Queen was experiencing a disassociation moment, seeing the big screen and all it contained. She heard Gary speak, but even after he finished, she spent a couple of minutes trying to process it, only to look at Melissa. She didn’t say anything, but she wondered what her longtime rival was thinking about all of this. She didn’t even know what she thought about it and Miki usually knew exactly how she felt about almost every situation in her life.

It was, to be quite frank, a lot to take in.

Digimon: The Parallel Visage

Hey, so this might suck but I'm going to drop this roleplay. It's a combination of things, but mostly it's just me having come to the realization that I can't balance my current RP load as it stands, so I need to trim some. I'm sorry if this ruins anything but hopefully, you guys can understand. :)

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday, July 20th, 2021 || Afternoon
FT — The Milligan Family (Lance Irvine, Siobhan “Ivy” Milligan, Jessie James “Bluejay” Milligan & Bronagh “Bron” Milligan)
Small appearance from Cameron Hyde}

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Cameron held a tight grip on the steering wheel of his taxi cab and the other holding onto Jesse James Milligan’s thigh. Climbing the hill towards Scott Street, Hyde had to push down every iota of anger and rage that was burning within him like a forest wildfire. He hated Scott Street and the power that it held over this town. As the gates to a proclaimed utopia opened before him, the Devil’s cold blue eyes peered forward at its inhabitants as they wandered what he could’ve sworn were marble-paved driveways.. Each more spoiled and more detestable than the last.

Belmonte, Costigan, Grimm, Cortez. Every new house forced Cameron’s to grab a little tighter, a new vein pulsating with pure unadulterated fury, hidden beautifully behind his mask of sanity. Cameron’s gaze drifted to his passenger seat and the stunning strawberry blonde that sat in it, smiling to herself in a silent bask of what he could only assume was love. JJ had wanted him for years and in this moment of quiet bliss, she thought she had him. The truth was far less shiny, she didn’t have him, he had her, right where he wanted her. She was his.

They had intended to spend the morning out on Hyde’s boat, eating breakfast out on the water but it had swiftly become apparent that the only thing they really desired to eat was each other. Cameron had danced this dance before and he had learned. To make sure that his goals were attained with JJ, he had to give just as much as he took. That was fine, faking it was easy. He knew that in her mind, they had made love, it was more than just sex. Cameron knew better, it was always, any time, just sex. Love didn’t exist beyond a notion that balanced on the wall of delusion.

His hand slowly caressed up Blue’s arm until it reached the base and back of her neck, he held it there as his car rolled forward towards the cul-de-sac at the end of the damned street. He looked onwards towards a swaying figure walking ahead, hips dynamite in denim and flowing blonde locks. Any other time; Hyde would call her prey.

When Cameron's unique choice of vehicle’s pulled up in front of her driveway, JJ was almost sad that her time with him was coming to an end. She had been in such a state of bliss since last night. Spending it with him in his family’s business, on the boat, just enjoying food and having him all to herself, she couldn’t have been happier. All her life she had lusted after Cameron Hyde. For as long as she could remember, he alluded her for some reason or another. Whether it was her being with Angel, who wasn’t a bad person in the slightest. She was quite content with him for as long as they had been together, but her heart - a large part of it that she closed off from Angel - had always belonged to the man that drove the taxi cab.

And if she was being honest with herself? As much as she liked Angel. As much as Jessie James Milligan had liked all other men she thought could make up for the absence of him, nobody could ever measure up to how fast Cameron Hyde got her heart beating. The excitement of knowing she was his and he was hers and the rush of adrenaline in how he touched her. A gentle yet aggressive animal that pushed the boundaries with her but never went too far. That’s what she loved about this man -- her man -- so much.

When she settled in place, JJ nearly had a seizure-like fit when she saw the car in the driveway. Instinctively, she whispered, “Oh no not again…” It was his car. The only person who would have such an outdated car that was that flashy. At the same time, she saw her sister come down the driveway and she sighed heavily and quite noticeably, too. Immediately she turned to her man beside her. “Baby…I’m sorry. Thank you for driving me home. There’s…no doubt I’m in for a long afternoon.” How did one even explain how complex her family drama was in such a short amount of time? “I’ll call you later. Or maybe you can if you want? I don’t know--” As Jessie tried her best to explain this, she looked over at her goldilocks of a sister who seemed quite urgent in how she was looking back and she just sighed out again. Without hesitation, JJ gave Cameron a kiss. A deep one too. If she was going to dive headfirst into whatever shit was waiting for her inside her home, she needed this as much as she knew he wanted it.

Cameron took heed of JJ’s hushed whispers. She was something just before disturbed. The car in the drive, a classic Chevy Stingray had sent her someplace that wasn’t with him. He didn’t like that, not one bit. As Jessie kissed him, his blue eyes locked onto the blonde standing next to the car. That must be Bronagh, JJ’s younger sister. He remembered her from when they were in high school, she really filled out well and the way she was dressed, on his side of town what she was calling fashion, they would call a night walker. Hyde feigned joy as he broke the kiss and gently caressed Blue’s soft lips. “I’ll call you, seems like you’ve got some family stuff to deal with.” He planted a firmer kiss on her forehead and released her neck from his grasp. “Have your phone ready at seven. I’ll call then.”

Bronagh watched as the taxi reversed back out of their drive and pulled away down Scott Street. With her arms folded under her bust, she couldn’t help but smile as her smitten older sister watched a handsome boy pull away. “He’s a bit delicious, Blue. I love freckles. You did a good with that one.” Her smile soon faded and her green eyes shuttered closed at the sound of a salacious electric guitar riff screaming from inside the Milligan household. On any other street, in any other place, someone would file a noise complaint and the police would be called. Not here, not Scott Street.

Bron took a step forward and hugged her older sister tightly. “Hey you.” She missed JJ a tremendous amount, with this being the first time the Milligan sisters had been together in months. Holding onto Jessie tightly, the bombshell couldn’t help but sigh into her neck. “You ready to do this?”

JJ returned her baby sister’s hug, embracing her with supportive arms. Despite what was happening inside and what she heard from the distance they were at, JJ missed Bron so much. With how much college took out of her time, she rarely was able to spend as much time as she wanted to with her baby sister. In those few times she came home, it was never enough time to play full catch up, so she wanted to savor this hug with her sister. After a moment of letting Bron get it out, she made Bron look at her. “Chin up, buttercup. We need to look strong before we go inside. You and I both know if they smell any weakness, we’ve already lost.” Holding Bron by the shoulders, she nodded. “Shake it off. One, two, three--” Three times, JJ relaxed her shoulders with Bron, shaking off whatever hints of weakness off of her face. United they were strong and that’s all the two people inside would see.

Bron took a hold of her elder sister's hand and absorbed it into hers. No matter what was about to be thrown at them, they would face it together, like they always did. Though Bronagh had quite the solid idea of what actually did wait for them on the opposite side of the old oak door. When she first started climbing Hanging Hill, she could hear the noise. When she got towards the end of the street, she saw the car. Both were indicators of one simple fact;

Daddy was home.

The nervousness that Bron and JJ were feeling was not to be confused with fear. Both girls loved their father and knew he loved them. He treated the sisters well, he offered them unconditional support and would do anything for them. He was a good dad. The problem was that he had a power over their mother, it was like a love potion. Whenever he breezed into town after opening and running another restaurant, Ivy would fall head over heels in love with him again until he fucked up. Hell, they even divorced because they found out he had an entire other family elsewhere. Yet even that wasn’t enough to turn their Mom off.

“Let’s go.”

Hand-in-hand, the Sister’s Milligan stepped through the old oak door of their childhood home. Strong and stubborn, usually like their own mother, one thing JJ had noticed almost immediately after opening that door. Those familiar guitar riffs, the symphony of laughter from both of them after each limited pause, the singing-along with David Lee Roth’s legendary voice, it had been an immediate cause for concern as what JJ feared was long gone. What was actually happening was far worse than she thought.

And it was even worse when she had to force both herself and Bron to drag their feet into the kitchen where the sight of their mother dancing with their father with literally no care in the world was going to be their real test. It pained her to a point where she could see it in their mother’s face. The way she smiled, moved, and looked at daddy, she was happy. Like none of what happened before was even a thought. That ignorance-is-bliss type of joy was infectious and JJ almost wanted to not do anything, but then she could feel Bron’s hand squeeze hers and it reminded her of when this hurricane ended. When paradise was lost, Siobhan Milligan was left with the wound wide open as if it was that first day when her heart was crushed.

If anything, it was on her two daughters to reality check it.

Jessie cleared her throat and in the middle of an awkward twirl, Ivy screamed, “Bronagh! Jessie James! You’re hereeee!”She kept swaying her hips along with the song, a smile so infectious that anyone with a frown would turn it upside down. “...Chef, look who’s here?!” Ivy exclaimed, nudging Lance’s arm excitedly.

Turning on his heel, decked out in his signature dirty blue Levi jeans and a Bon Jovi t-shirt, Lance Irvine’s smile widened even further as he drank in the sight of two sets of big green eyes staring back at him, his two daughters, Bronagh and Jessie. The truth of the matter was that despite what people might think about Lance and he never did care about that anyway, he loved his girls. He truly did. He would give his life for them and has on more than one occasion but he also knew their relationship was complicated and that was down to him and his behaviour. Though he truly hoped that they still loved him like he did them.

Lance was not an Edenite by nature. He had been born on the shores of Cape Cod. He grew up surfing, listening to rock music and making sandwiches in his family's beachfront snack shack. It was there where he first honed his love of cooking. It was there that a sexy redhead with big green eyes and a baby on her shoulder walked in looking for a bite. That was Ivy with JJ and Lance was smitten instantly. Hell, if he followed her to Edenridge and started working in restaurants in Pinehurst before he began travelling and working others. As his stock as a chef grew, Lance found himself giving in to his lesser instincts. Jessie and Bronagh were not his only kids. Ivy was not his only family. Yet that didn’t matter right now, what mattered was his girls.

“Fucking A!”Chef exclaimed with a clap as he approached both of his children and pulled them both into a three way hug. “My badass little girls.” He pressed soft, gentle kisses to the side of each of the blonde bombshells heads. Inching back slightly, Lance placed a hand on each of their cheeks. “Prettier every day, the both of you.” He swiftly spun away from his daughters to hurry to the sizzling pan behind the kitchen island. “Smell that girls? Smells like an awesome brunch.”

Before either JJ or Bron could do anything to stop the whirlwind of their father’s hug and kisses (not that either of them would want to), Jessie tried to remain strong but two things were at play. Her dad, the man who might not be her biological father but was every bit the man she thought of when she pictured her father, not some guy who didn’t stick around after knocking her mom up. And the other thing that made her will waver just for a moment was the smell of his cooking. By God, he was the best cook ever. Nobody in Edenridge, or all of Massachusetts for that matter, compared.

“Smells great, dad!” Jessie commented. She couldn't’ tell for certain what it was, but she smelled something familiar that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I know!” Lance responded confidently as he reached into a nearby jar and pulled out a pinch of fine red flakes, to spread across the contents of his pan. He sucked the residual powder off of his thumb before tossing his hand towel over his shoulder, a signature move form the chef. “I didn’t want to be too fancy for my first meal back so, Bronny can you grab four plates and put them on the island please?”

Bronagh would’ve rolled her eyes if she didn’t love her dad so much. He wasn’t a bad man, despite “his crimes” but she knew he was toxic for her mother. She just couldn’t say no to Lance. Even with that in mind, some of Bron’s most cherished childhood memories were in this very kitchen, cooking with her father and her sister, their mother watching gleefully with the big green eyes she shared with her daughters. “Yes Chef!” She tossed her jacket onto a nearby chair and reached into the drawers to grab some dining plates as requested.

“Thank you Chef!” Lance called back with a big grin. He moved over towards the sink where Ivy stood and reached around her, bringing their bodies close, skin grazing. He rested on hand on her waist as kissed the side of her cheek before pulling away, having grabbed the tongs he required. “So we’re having a pan seared mahi mahi topped with a tomato and olive tapenade, Jess, sweet child o mine, can you just go over to that bowl there and mix that up nice and good for me? Ingredients are already inside.” He moved his hand towards the speaker which was blaring out the heavy rock music that he adored so much. “And while your at it you can tell me and Mom about that cat that just dropped you off.”

As JJ started to mix the bowl, per the request of the head chef, she lost her train of motion, losing almost all focus when he brought up Cameron. She gasped and looked at both of them. “Huh? Sorry, what did you say?”

Ivy giggled, eying Lance lovingly and turned her attention to her daughter. “We saw the Taxi Cab, baby blue. We’re just curious. And maybe your father is more so than I am, but still! I haven’t seen you look so…gushy like a gusher in a long time.” Ivy could see it even if Jessie didn’t say it.

And JJ knew it too.

“His name’s Cameron,” she admitted, looking down at the bowl, making sure the tapenade was mixed to perfection. Immediately as she thought about how much she wanted to tell them, she wondered just what would be appropriate. If it was just her and Bronagh, she could be as explicit as she wanted because Bron was always the same way whenever she’d tell her about her and Tommy Hartmann. “I’ve been seeing him for a while now. Mostly in letters.”

“Letters? Is that like a new lingo you kids have for text messages or something?” Ivy asked, feeling so out of the loop. She tried to keep herself updated because lord knows the other older person in the kitchen couldn’t even fathom some of the modern slang the kids use.

JJ shook her head. “No. Like actual letters. Physical, pen-to-paper letters.He doesn’t have any social media, so that’s the only way we could communicate.” Jessie James Milligan was usually one to keep a strong front, but any time she found herself talking about Cameron, as Lamby had seen yesterday, the love she had for him was written on her face. She couldn’t hide that.

“Pen to paper? What is he like, sixty five?” Lance was the last person to talk to anyone about being old fashioned or outdated. He drove a car from the 70’s, dressed like it was the 80’s and refused to listen to any music post 2001. The Michelin chef glanced over at his ex wife’s big green eyes and knew that if he continued on with tearing apart his daughters new love, he would be in for an earful. “As long as he treats you right…” The large blonde man moved over to his oldest child and kissed her forehead, taking the bowl of tapenade from her and backing away next to his pan. “And you're happy that’s all we care about. Thank you Chef!”

After resting four plates on the kitchen island, Bron paused as her sister's words reverberated in her mind. “Waitwaitwait.” The bombshell rested her palms down and turned to look at Jessie. “Cameron? As in Cameron Hyde? Boy that you spent most of your childhood daydreaming about? I’m pretty sure if we check the attic, we’ll find your old textbooks with Jessica James Hyde written on there.”

“Don’t mock your sister, B-Mills” Lance interjected as he began to place the juicy pieces of fish onto the plates. “What about you?” He asked, taking a large spoon and spreading the beautiful mixture of tomato, olives and chilli into the Mahi Mahi fillets. “Are you still dating the Power Ranger from Pinehurst?” After finishing playing, he clapped his hands together and bowed. “Family up, take your seats ladies and chow down like it’s Chinatown.”

Bronagh took her seat as her father had requested, the smell of his latest treat for them drifting through her nose and into her brain. Too many people often said there was very little good to say about Lance Irvine but one thing that nobody could argue was that he was a damn fine chef. “Thank you Chef.” She smiled as she picked up the cutlery she had lovingly placed besides the food. “And yes Dad I’m still dating Tommy, amongst other people but he’s my guy.”

Ivy could just hear it now. Lance was one of the most old fashioned people she knew, so before he would pipe up on it, Ivy beat him to it. “I think it’s wonderful you two have such trust in each other, Bronagh! It’s a beautiful thing! To be able to still love each other and date other people. You know, back when I was your age, my mother would have had a cow if I was dating the wrong person. And don’t even get me started on what daddy would say. Had to convince him that Chef was more than his denim was.” She dug into the delicious and quite fragrant Mahi Mahi, looking at her first and only husband. “Thank you Chef! It’s so divine! The tapenade is so good. Really brings out the fish’s natural flavor. It’s like I’m right by the sea.” Ivy was transported to Cape Cod, where she and Lance had spent many days. Back in those happier days, when things were perfect between them. If only it had been like that still.

Lance smiled as he watched his first family tuck into the meal he had prepared for them. He had made too many mistakes to count in his life, especially when it came to Ivy and the girls. He hoped, albeit secretly, that by taking this new job that he could right some of those wrongs. There was a new hotel opening up in Edenridge, a fancy place by all accounts and the Mayor wanted to make sure that the finest and most deep-pocketed clientele were the main patrons. Which was why he had asked if Lance would come and be head chef of the hotel's restaurant. Lance of course said yes but only on the condition that he could name the place. Which he rightly did when he named it; the Ivy.

“I love you girls. Now dig in before it gets cold.”

Digimon: The Parallel Visage

Important question all - if the group hears a scream, would they stop or keep going?

@RBYDark

Knowing Damian like I do, he'll definitely be spooked about it. And by extension, so will Frimon because he imitates what Damian does. But probably unlike most (or maybe like em who knows), he'll probably be conflicted about wanting to go investigate.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Flashback (December of 2019) || After Back to the Beginning
Trigger Warnings — Mentions of suicide, memories of child abuse, violence
FT. — Mikhial Zima & Ivan Vladinov Zima}

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Hell never looked so normal.

When Mika originally agreed to have lunch with his father, he had a million scenarios run through his head to the point where he created his own that weren’t even close to what was realistically possible. Scenarios of a what-if scenario, if you will. A life when he was never sent away - when he and his sisters were never sent to live in Edenridge. A life when his brother wasn’t an asshole nor where his parents ever split up.

That life was something that Mika thought about a lot, but especially as of late. Being back in the old house brought a lot of those old memories and this wasn’t the property in Brighton Beach. The buildings that were built like a fortress and looked like an upper east side condo. No, the house he was at was the house where everything bad in the first thirteen years of his life happened.

As he sat as tense and restless on the same couch that he had those rare fond memories with his mother and Uncle Sergei, just being a kid as much as he could, Mika also couldn’t help but be reminded of the other memories associated with this couch. And this house. It felt so empty with nobody in it. His mom’s light, the twins’ energy - there was something very ominous about the mansion he once called home.

It was strange. Being back here after almost four years, Mika thought by stepping back into it he would feel the same dread and forlornness that he was overtaken by that day he and his sisters were put on a car ride by Sergei and were driven to their destinations. From the time Sergei let him in, leaving himself so the two of them could talk and left Mika alone with Ivan who hadn’t made himself known yet. Mika spent several minutes in the eerie quiet. As he did, one thing became clear and it was that he did not feel as he once did. He was still so full of ire for his father but it wasn’t the raging storm he had been hoarding and letting fester inside him. It was subdued, under control, and mild.

Did it have anything to do with the pictures still remaining in view? The giant portrait of the family when they were all still happy that was staring back at him as he leaned back into the cushion? Maybe it was his recent losses that took some of the anger away and replaced it with a numb emptiness. Danny was his light for the few years that Mika knew him and Coach O’Hara made Mika feel like he was accepted into a family he was part of even though he wasn’t really. And then there was Cece, the only person after Veronika that Mika felt something true for, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let her know this part of his life. Not about who his family was. Not about where he came from. Not even about the first love of his life.

V was his childhood love (or puppy love to some people). If she were still alive to this day, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have married her. The life they spent so many years in their formative years. But she wasn’t.

And now he has lost two people that he loved dearly - two people that were so similar in the way they spoke and made their ways into Mika’s heart. He lost them through means that were out of his control. One to suicide and the other to Charlie Decker, someone Mika seldom had anything to do with.

That’s probably why his anger, especially considering where he was, had been consumed by an overwhelming grief that he had to keep bottled up.

“Deepest apologies for that, Mikhail. I hope you weren’t too bored waiting on me.” Ivan made himself present. He held his phone in his hand and pocketed it in his back pocket. Mika looked his way and saw a casually dressed man. He wore a turtleneck that was dark in color, jeans that looked expensive, and his blonde hair combed to perfection (as was the way of Ivan’s style). Always liked to appear like he was the most approachable man in the world. “As you know, work waits for nobody.”

Yeah, Mika remembered.

He watched as his father claimed the recliner chair across from him. His father always liked to sit where he could see everyone else. Where he sat, he was directly behind the family portrait. The sounds of the fire dancing, sparks flying in the immediate area of the fireplace provided an ambiance that only Ivan managed to rob any beauty of. He always had that way about him and Mika hated him for it. But he had to shrug that off as much as he could.

“It’s fine,” Mika fibbed, but feigned a smile, absentmindedly gesturing towards the photos. ”You left all the photos up. Even the ones from long ago.” Mika gestured to the left where the fireplace was. On top of it were Christmas decorations but also the photos of them.

Ivan smiled, following his son’s gaze. “Of course. Why would I take them down?” He remarked, mildly offended. “My family may not live here anymore…for reasons I’m sure you’re aware of. I cherish my family all the same.”

Bullshit. You only cherish us now because your actions drove us away. That was something Mika wanted to say, but he wasn’t trying to make this into a fight. If that happened, he knew, at some point, Ivan would cause it. He always knew how to ruin something civil. “Speaking of…What’s Viktor doing these days?” Mika felt the venom on his tongue as soon as he uttered his big brother’s name. Just the thought of Ivan’s perfect son, the son he wished Mika was, was poisoning all of the progress he knew he made in the three years, but he needed to give this a shot. And as damning as it was to his own well-being, with what happened with Hyde, Mika couldn’t help himself but be curious.

And as soon as he did ask, Mika knew that it was something of a sore topic for Ivan. His rather pleasant demeanor fell down some. Mika saw his father’s eyes grow dark like before he was about to say something that would for sure start a fight. As Ivan closed them, gripping both armrests of his chair for a brief moment, Ivan took in a deep breath. “Your brother…he is overseas. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but seeing as how you’re a man now and clearly capable of understanding the ugly truths that put a roof over your head, here it is: Viktor runs operations for the organization in London. He’s quite efficient. The clear successor when I retire.”

Mika didn’t know what to expect. He was never privileged enough to know the inner-workings of the business and to this day he never willingly asked about it, but hearing Ivan speak so openly about it was a shock. Where was the monster who terrorized him? Who beat him? Who made him feel like he was less than nothing? This wasn’t the Ivan Vladinov Zima that Mika called father. This was a man, if he didn’t know it any better, was treating Mika as an equal.

“I see. And…has he asked about how any of us are doing? Katie? Stacy? Mom?” Me? Mika hated he wanted to know if his brother even cared, but he couldn't take it back now.

Ivan hummed thoughtfully, thinking about his next words, seemingly in a careful manner. “Mikhail, do you think of your brother as some kind of monster?” Ivan asked bluntly. “I acknowledge that he was not the best to you growing up. Perhaps I am to blame for that. Perhaps you are--”

And there he is. “I never said--” Ivan raised his hand up and Mika flinched. Fuck, the trauma was coming back.

“Let me finish, son. Viktor never thought of you as less than himself. I admit, I made many mistakes when raising you. Your mother often reminded me of them and I was either too prideful or too stuck in my ways to listen. When she left me, that is when she heard about the shooting in Edenridge, not only did she fear that her dear older brother John was in trouble, but she feared the worst for you and your sister. And your brother had a similar dilemma with himself. Viktor wanted to drop everything too, but--”

“But what?” Before Mika could stop himself, he cut Ivan off. Again.

“Your mother insisted he stay in London. She would call him if anything happened and only then would he fly out.” Ivan leaned forward, his crossed leg dropping to the ground. “Your brother loves you, Mikhail. Like me, he is full of regrets about both how he treated you and how things were left between you two. I…know that you met another brother of yours. Cameron Hyde, is it?”

Of course he knew about that. Mika was, after all, sent to live with The Gonzalez. Ley was the one that Hyde nearly killed. So it stood to reason that Ivan knew about the existence of Hyde. He probably was aware of Anya, too. “I don’t want to talk about him.” Mika started to tremble inside. As much as he tried to hide it, there was no denying that it was a touchy subject for him. The terror that Hyde struck into Mika and the ragehe felt towards him was only rivaled by that very dread.

And Ivan saw it right away, but he didn’t press. “Of course.”

Truth was, Ivan knew a lot of things about Edenridge, more than Mikhial would ever know. He knew all the big players from the Fallen Angels to the line of connections the Serpents had. Ivan was well invested in Edenridge, but he also knew the kind of man that his second oldest son grew up to be. He did what he could and asked a favor of a close friend of his to keep an eye on Cameron Hyde. He didn’t know if it would be enough and understood the position that he put Charlie Taylor in, but that was something he had to risk. Perhaps on some level, Ivan felt remorse for some of the choices he made in life. April McMahon and Taisiya Kamensky were among two regrets he held deep in his heart.

As he thought about those two, he knew that April was around somewhere, but all of the sources he had that kept tabs on his family in Edenridge and Pinehurst, of them all within various gangs, organizations, and others that would be in the position to keep tabs, none could account for Taisiya even years after he spent an amazing few hours with her. It troubled Ivan to the degree that it led to part of the reason his wife could not handle staying with him any longer. To be honest, Ivan had not been the same since his children were sent away and that so clearly ate away at his soul.

But looking at Mikhail right now, as he sat across from him, so clearly disturbed by the sheer mention of his half-brother, Ivan could feel himself half-smiling. It was small and barely noticeable, especially for his son who had other things on his mind (and it showed on his face), the one thing Ivan knew he had a chance to do was, at the very least, try to make amends. “Mikhial.”

He came out of the daze that forced him to flashback to the less-than-cheery times in 2017 when Hyde had gone down a rabbit hole of crazy that left a lasting impression on him, his father’s voice had brought him out and he gave Ivan his semi-divided attention. “Yeah?” He responded with too much suspicion that there was no way Ivan wouldn’t pick up on it.

He chuckled but ignored the overwhelming air of reservation surrounding his son’s face. “If I promise to not bring him up again, would you do your father one favor and answer me a question. Truthfully and as honestly as you can.”

Okay, what was he up to? There was no way his monster of a father would even ask such a thing if it wasn’t going to come with a price. A favor of sorts that he’ll collect in a few years. Of course, that was the first thing that went through his mind, but on the off chance that Ivan had a no-strings-attached reasoning, then what harm could it do? As he shrugged, Mika said, “Fine. What’s your question?” He shifted in his seat. His hear was beating too fast for his own comfort. He was leaning forward but only slightly.

“I’m aware I was never the best father. I know you wished you had someone like Reynoldo Gonzalez, or even John O’Hara--”

“--How did you know about--”

Ivan laughed. “Mikhail. Don’t play me like an idiot. I am not one and you know that better than anyone. I don’t blame you for wanting to know your mother’s side of the family. And I do weep for David O’Hara’s death. I know how it pained your mother that she could not be at her brother’s side during that…unfortunate time in his life.”

Couldn’t? Or did you forbid her? Mika remembered that time. “Ivan, I won’t treat you like an idiot if you do the same for me.” Mika felt it. He felt that familiar rage starting to build for his father. It was held behind a wall that was created when Ivan did not bring up the bad times or showed shades of his old self, but a snake could only hide its true skin for so long before it had to shed its garden variety into a Black Mamba coat and Ivan Zima was far worse than a Black Mamba. “Just..ask your question!” He almost snapped but kept his voice as low as he could, but at the state he was in currently, it was becoming difficult to manage.

“When Sergei told you I wanted to have this meeting, you had a day to think about it. You could have left and gone back to Edenridge last night.” Ivan kept his cold blue eyes on his son, the thing they both shared. “I am no fool and I am also not oblivious to the…conflicting emotions you hold for me nor do I or will I blame you for them. I was cruel to you. VIktor was cruel to you. I raised him to be modeled after me. To be better than me. Sometimes Viktor showed too much initiative. And during a time where I was hoping you’d both would see what I was really trying to--”

As the pot of rage started to boil, it slipped through the cracks of Mika’s face and he stood up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to walk right up to Ivan and punch him. He almost did and in his eyes, past the watery eyes that had developed by just listening to what Ivan decided to bring up, which was a lot more than just Ivan. The past few months have been weighing heavily on Mika’s heart almost to the point where anything would set him over the edge.

His fists were balled up and he almost raised thim at ivan, but he stopped himself. “Ask. Your. Question.” Mika gritted his teeth after calmly, yet eerily, speaking. This was the moment where Ivan had to choose between wanting to show Mika he really changed or validating what Honey Badger really wanted to do and that was to unload years of repressed ire on his father’s face.

Ivan sat and could only see his son with a sad, disappointed expression on his face. To think he was at his final point of doing something he’d regret or being better than Ivan ever gave him credit for. “Why did you decide to come here? You had such a terrible time in this house and in our apartment in Brooklyn. I was abusive to you. Viktor was abusive to you. I cheated on your mother more times than I can count on my hands. Am I proud of it? No, but I don’t regret it--”

Mika took a step forward. “You don’t regret it?! So my mother meant nothing to you then!? Anastasia and Katya meant nothing to you!?” Another step forward led into another and then another. Eventually, as Mika was standing…hovering over an unphased Ivan, his right hand gripped the man’s dark purple dress shirt while his other remained a balled cannon, waiting to be launched. “Our…family meant nothing to you!?” His voice cracked, rage, confusion, and a longing for a father that he wouldn’t know until Big Rey Gonzalez and Coach of the Edenridge Celtics, John O’Hara showed what a real father did. Ivan Zima was no man and no father.

Ivan Zima was scum.

And he was smiling at his son. “I see you gained the ability to finally show how you feel. That’s good. Finally, a real man stands in front of me--”

Before Mika could think about it. Before Ivan knew what was coming, all of the rage Mika had been repressing since he was thirteen was unleashed into Ivan’s smug face. One single left hook that would make Creed proud smashed into Ivan’s face, forcing the older man out of his seat. His body twitched and he was on his side, laughing in a way that brought Mika back to those early years.

Every positive thing in his life, every step he made to go forward in his life, forget about what Ivan Zima did to him. With just a laugh, it brought Mika back to the beginning. Back to the start of his downfall. First it was Veronika’s suicide that set so many things into a manic cycle of uncontrollable dominos that shaped his life from the age of thirteen to this moment with his father’s blood on his hands. The man that gave birth to the Devil himself and never apologized or took responsibility for the things he put into motion.

It was all for nothing. Meeting Natalia at that party and forming a close friendship with her. Meeting Cece a year later at David’s grave. Basketball and Danny. Boa and Danny Boaz. The Gonzalez family -- his family. Everyone he met that helped him see there was more to life than just where he came from and the life that he would live if he stayed in it. Every single person who made him feel like a normal life was possible - it all was reduced to a single sound that erased all of that progress.

“Why…Why do you always do this?” Mika spoke, breaking through the pain he felt, the overwhelming anguish and conflicting emotions he had for the man who was at his mercy. A battle was being waged inside Mika. The fight of Mikhail Zima, the son of Ivan Zima and Mikhail Zima, the abused, tortured son of Ivan Zima that loathed the man with everything he could spare. “Tell me WHY!!” Mika screamed as his left foot dug itself into his stomach, everything in him red hot like the fire inside him that was spreading. The man who he refused to ever call father coughed up blood. “You had everything! You didn’t have to be like this! You didn’t have to…” Send us away.

That was the root of everything. He hated his childhood. He hated VIktor. He hated his father for what he did, but deep down, what he hated the most about everything that happened, was the fact that Ivan sent him and his sisters away. He broke up the family.

As Ivan gathered himself, not laying a hand on his son, but just sitting up. He grunted and coughed more droplets of blood, the taste of metal and iron in his mouth. He smiled a crimson grin. “You continue to surprise me, Mikhail. I knew you held hatred in your heart and knew it would eventually happen, but to think you’d strike your own father. Well, I’m impressed.” He knew it was only a matter of time before his son struck again. “You ask why? Why what? Why did I sleep with those rather flexible blondes that gave birth to two kids that I’ve never met? Or are you talking about sending the children I actually gave any damn about, away from the only home they knew to save their lives because of the actions of a truly foolish boy?” He laughed again, his expression turning almost smug as he kept those blue eyes on the true spawn of his seed. “ Be more specific, Mikhail. What do you wish for me to confess to you? You who are responsible for your own life, maybe you could help an old man out.”

“I hate you…”

Ivan faked an “ah” moment as he clapped despite the pain he was in everywhere ribcage and upward. “That’s such an original and riveting confession, Mikhail. Tell me, is that what this is about? Sergei could have told me that much!” Through grits and pain, Ivan forced himself up to his feet. “Let’s unpack everything, shall we? Say what you really mean.” His one arm that was free gestured to his son to indulge him. “I know you hate me. I’ve known since before you knew. It was the way you always looked at me. That same look that always managed to do everything I said, despite all I put him through. So that can’t be the only thing that plagues your mind. What else is there, Mikhail? You asked me to be honest with you and I was. So let your father ask the same of you: what is on your mind?”

Mika was frozen. He was as paralyzed as any man…no, he wasn’t a man. No, he most certainly wasn’t a man. He didn’t feel like one. Ivan had sapped all potential of him keeping the confidence he had when he walked in when he showed his true colors. Mika was physically in the present, but mentally, he was the scared twelve-year-old kid who had just lost his best friend and Ivan was his usual tough love self first, forcing him to stop crying. Told him to man up. Told him that there was no use crying for the dead when there were more important people still alive.

He was there and he wanted to leave so badly. So why did he hold such a grudge for Ivan when he was sent away? He wanted to be away from his father so bad, yet the anger and contempt grew and festered for his father. “I..I--”

“For the love of God! Mikhail, you need to get a hold of your emotions and just…” Ivan, in a frustrated state, gave karma to Mika as his left hand landed on his son’s nose, causing him to stagger back and lose his balance over the coffee table that was in the middle of the foyer. And in a simultaneous motion, Ivan fell back to the couch behind him. “Goddamn it. Don’t you see, I’m trying to make you address everything that has been lingering with you, Mikhail. I know I fucked up raising you, Viktor, and your sisters. I know I’m not the father you wanted or, quite frankly, deserve. I know I’m not John O’Hara or Reynoldo Gonzalez. Hell, Sergei was a better father to you kids than I ever was. He sure as hell acted as a better husband surrogate for Mary than I could ever provide. I’m not anyone who deserves to be called father or husband. And that’s why you need to unleash it all.” For better or worse, there was no denying that they were father and son. Stubborn, set in their ways, and refusing to address what they’re feeling.

Mika was staring at the ceiling, admiring the fan that spun and spun around. He tried to mute his father’s voice into white noise, but no matter how desperate he was to make that a reality, he couldn’t and he listened to Ivan. For the first time, without the excessive boiling rage within him refusing to let his father’s words really sink in, he heard him. For the first time in so many years, he heard Ivan Zima. The worst part about it all, which burned and tasted way worse than the metallic aroma the blood in his nose gave off, Ivan was right.

Ivan was right about it all.

It wasn’t only the fact that he was right that Mika needed to unburden himself about everything he had been burying inside for so many years. It was what he had told himself since he was shipped off to live with the Gonzlez’s. It was the lasting impression Ivan and VIktor left on him. It was the damage that closed him off and all of the repressed thoughts of being told he wasn’t good enough. Being told he wasn’t allowed to feel anything but the boiling anger that men on his father’s side of the family seemed to thrive in, yet Mika hated it.

He absolutely hated it.

Ivan, Cameron, and VIktor -- they were the same. The damage done to Mika wasn’t ever going to get better. The only times he ever felt like that he had a chance of being better was when he was with Cece and when he had the guidance of Coach and the boys on the team, but since the shooting, that’s been taken away from him. The lies that he kept from his uncle and the recurring habit of his to always retreat into the circle that a scared and angry thirteen-year-old boy lived.

Mika was no man. No man at all.

As he stood up, he did so at a crossroads. Face his demons right here, right now, address them with his father, or refuse it and go back to Edenridge as fast as he could drive back. It took a minute, but Mika was out of his childhood home. He didn’t say a word to Ivan, despite all of the things his father yelled at him. Saying he was a coward. Saying he was no man. Mika left and he drove as fast as he could out of that cursed home. In his heart, he knew his father was right.

Secrets. Lies. Refusal to face his demons head-on. He was no better than Ivan was.

A monster and his heir. How fitting.