AlteredTundra

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Halted by depression

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday, July 20th, 2021, After Here For You
FT — Ducaleon "Duke" Booker, Dominic "Doc" Wells, and Lorelei Mercer}

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Once Duke and Jokes had followed Creed and his two charges safely back to the Gonzales home the other men were relieved of their shifts. Creed had accepted Aleyda’s invitation into the house and Jokes went off to call his Auntie Adora after getting a voicemail from the loving woman filling him in on the events going on with Boa and Puff out at Blue Hill. Left alone and to his own devices for the rest of the day, Duke drove back to Lost Souls with the intent of wasting the rest of the day inside the comfort of his own apartment. He opened his door with the expectation of a cold and dark living room and was instead greeted by the sight of his boyfriend, Dominic Wells, and the neutral face Duke had carried at work and on the drive home lifted into a bright smile.

“Hey,” he greeted as he closed and locked the door, toeing off his shoes and sliding the security chain in place now that the apartment’s two inhabitants were both home. “I thought you were busy until tonight.”

“I was. Or I thought I would be.” Dominic or Doc, as most call him, stammered for his words the minute he saw Duke walk into the apartment. “Club Business was cut short. Something about more important matters that Twitch had to attend to.” Dominic spoke as someone who didn’t have the full story and that’s because he didn’t. The man often had his head stuck in the clouds…well, if those clouds were made of nuts, bolts, and various engine parts spread throughout the Clubhouse. When he wasn’t here or in his own apartment when Duke’s not-so-sweet father, Tiberius Booker, came around, he was at the club. “So I had some free time on my hands. Didn’t want to spend it anywhere else.” He said with a beaming smile, gently patting the seat next to him on Duke’s sofa as some rerun of Family Guy was playing. It was the iconic episode where Stewie beat the holy hell crap out of Brian and even hearing it when his attention was shifted on his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but let out a few second hand chuckles. He loved stupid humor like Family Guy and American Dad.

Duke smiled as he took his spot next to the man he’d been dating in secret for years now. Things like family guy weren’t really his brand of humor and hadn’t been for quite some time, but he loved seeing his boyfriend smile and laugh no matter what the subject was, so he had some of the older episodes memorized as well. The first time he’d seen the scene currently on the screen he’d immediately thought of the trouble twins, Ransom and Molotov, and he was never able to see it the same ever since. Especially not after he ran Enforcer for one of Ransom’s collections; the kid was so vicious and cold on the job, and if he hadn’t known him his whole life, Duke could’ve been scared.

“I wouldn’t want you to spend it anywhere else, either,” Ducaleon admitted to his love as he leaned in and captured the leaner man’s lips in a loving kiss, dropping his hand to Dominic’s thigh and squeezing. Like always, he wanted to show Dominic how much he truly loved him, but there was always an underlying apology that this beautiful thing was kept secret for Duke’s sake, that Dominic was kept a secret just so there was no chance that word could get back to his father. Sure the man could have Sultan Wilson, Duke’s friend and Creed’s older cousin- a married gay man- work as the secretary for Booker Brick and Mortar Restorations, but that was different. That was business, and the dude was amazing at his job. But his own son, the one he raised after the divorce, being bisexual? Not a chance. Not after everything he’s said over the years, both overheard or said directly to Duke. Dominic understood, he’s always understood. He’d been friends with Duke’s older brother Leone long before they were Fallen Angels together. It didn’t make Duke feel any better about it. “I hate coming back to an empty home.”

Dom looked at his boyfriend (and yes, that’s what they were and no amount of secrecy would ever change his opinion about that), reading between the lines of Duke’s words, his kiss, and how his hand squeezed Dom’s lean thigh. He understood what was being said without it being uttered and Dom always wanted to reassure Duke almost every time he could. When Duke’s kiss broke, Dom kissed him back. “Being alone sucks. Your place is much more homier than mine ever could be. Your couch is great too!” This was Dom’s specialty. Perhaps a side effect of his habit of shifting from one subject to another, which played into his uniqueness that most either loved or didn’t, but Ducaleon Booker never gave him any grief about it. That made him the second Booker who had accepted his faults, no matter how out of control they became and there were some days when Dominic was like the energizer bunny.

But because of the man next to him and his brother, Doc has his anchors.

“You know, though, we could always invite Dolce around. Maybe we can have her and Callum over for dinner one of these days? Maybe make some of Shale’s greatest hits? I like to think I’m getting the hang of some of their recipes…” Although he understood nothing compared to the real thing, if there was one thing Doc could do well it was pick up things quicker than most would. His mind was always churning, always processing complicated problems. A recipe was so much like taking apart and putting together a motorcycle. If you knew which parts were what and where they went, you could understand how to put it together. Recipes were similar in that way and Dom’s focus was, if anything, one of his better traits. Plus, he liked making Duke happy and food was the ultimate act of love because it meant someone put time and effort into doing something considerate for that one person who means the world to them. Duke is that person for Dominic and so was his family (exception: Tiberius).

“Uh, yeah,” Duke responded to the suggestion slowly, mind already kicking up into gear to find a way that the invitation could seem natural. “Um, what if I…what if I say I want a Booker sibling day or something! Leone could come and we could have you come since you live next door and so Cal isn’t the odd one out. Plus you’re the best cook of all of us so it would make sense,” he assured, eyes trailing from side to side in anxious thought. Dolce may have broken through his walls a few years ago when she got him to admit that he was ’bi-curious, probably, I don’t fuckin’ know but you can’t tell a soul, promise me’, but he still couldn’t bring himself to update her on the fact that it was actually ’bisexual, definitely, and currently with the most amazing man that the family had accepted long before I started dating him.’ He’d never said anything to Leone about it, and his older brother had never asked. “Movie marathon maybe?”

It was at that moment Dominic processed what he had said and what it really meant. He was so used to his family knowing about who he loved (not the specific who but who he was attracted to in the general sense of things), but that didn’t mean the same was for his boyfriend. Holding Duke’s hand and squeezing it assuringly, Dom looked at his boyfriend. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He made sure that Duke saw his eyes, heard his voice, and made sure he knew he wasn’t trying to force anything. That was the last thing. He got ahead of himself, didn’t think it all the way through. He was so in love with the man next to him that he was only thinking of what could help him not feel so alone in the event he couldn’t always be waiting for him when he got home and having his siblings over seemed like the second best thing.

“I feel like I would have to cook. Leone can’t toast bread, let alone handle Shale’s iconic, if not complicated recipes.” He laughed, remembering the last time that Leone tried to make a grilled cheese. “Did I ever tell you about the time he made us dinner one time and it was so bad, Twitch made an official amendment and held a Table vote about it?”

You didn't have to," Duke laughed, letting go of the lip he was biting to make way for the smile that broke across his face. "He came to me whinin' about it as soon as the meeting was finished. Tried to prove to me that he could cook and then almost burned dad's house down, I had to push him out the back window so he didn't get caught," that was a long time ago, after the divorce had been finalized and his father had taken up heavy drinking in his off hours, so Duke of course had gotten his brother out of the line of fire and been cleaning off the stove as his father pulled into the driveway. When Tiberius had entered the home soon after, he'd thrown a fit over the half-cleaned kitchen and wasted food. The smile faded off Duke's face as he remembered how the rest of the story went. "You have mama's recipes perfected compared to the rest of us, I don't know how all three of us missed the cookin' gene but I know they're happy that you were around to pick up the slack," he leaned back into his boyfriend and gave him a soft kiss on his temple. "That genius brain of yours never ceases to amaze."

He took Dom's face in his hands and pulled him into a deeper kiss, willing to drop the subject for the time being in lieu of being affectionate and loving with his boyfriend for as long as he could. He sat up just long enough to swing a leg over his boyfriend's lap and settle there like he was the missing puzzle piece, then he resumed his task of trying to take his love's breath away. He was just beginning to slide his hand up under Dominic's shirt and-

*Knockknockknock*

"Shit-" Duke threw himself backwards, out of his lover's arms and off of his lap before the third timid knock could even finish. Avoiding the coffee table, Duke twisted to catch himself on his hands so he didn't face plant onto the threadbare carpeting, then he not so calmly gathered himself up into a standing position and looked around his apartment with fear-wild eyes. "Um, b-bedroom, go hide i-in the bedroom, please," Duke begged, apologizing with his eyes while already backing away from his boyfriend and towards the door, an unfortunately common routine between the two. "I'll get rid of whoever it is."

Even before Duke was finished, Dominic was already on his feet, his body half-turned towards the bedroom. A small period of curiosity kept him from going as he saw his boyfriend head for the door and he went inside his lover’s bedroom, closing the door shut, but making sure to put his left ear to it so he could at least hear half of what might happen. In the back of his mind, he feared it might’ve been Duke’s poor-excuse of a sperm donor. If that was the case and if he had to, he would throw some fucking hands. Dom wasn’t a fighter fighter like Leone or, really, any of the angels, but he would go to ware for his man.

Once the bedroom door had closed, Duke took a deep breath and peeked through the peephole, eyebrows raising in surprise as all he could see was the disheveled top of the person's head on the other side, indicating a small brunette with her head down and standing rather close. Were the hair a bit lighter, Duke would have suspected it to be Boa's friend, Poppy, though he'd be just as confused on why she was here. As it was, the Enforcer had no idea as to who could be waiting on the other side of the door, nor why they'd chosen his. After a moment's consideration, Duke slid the chain out of place and unlocked his door, opening it just enough for the girl to see him but not be able to see too much of his apartment behind him. The girl now standing in front of him was more than half a foot shorter than him, which was impressive given his shorter than average stature at five foot seven. He took in her ruffled appearance and timid stance and let the tense line of his shoulders fall until his body language was more soft and welcoming.

"Uh, hello," he greeted, sticking his head into the hallway to see if anyone was with her or using her for an opening. "Are you alright?"

“Um,” Lorelei honestly would have rathered no one answered the door. Let alone a big guy that could take her down with his finger. Her teeth started jittering in sudden bouts of fear. Miss Samantha told her that this was the safest place in Edenridge. That her parents wouldn’t know she was here. Miss Samantha told her to be brave and that soon she’d find her again and take her in. Or did she hear that wrong? Did Samantha want nothing to do with her? Then why would she give her this burner phone?

Lala clutched tightly on the phone, wondering immediately if this was a mistake. She wished her brother was here. He would know what to say and how to say it. He would be able to read if this guy was good or not. If he was going to hurt her or if he was understanding and willing to hear her out. “I’m really sorry, I… I’ve never done this before.” Lala brought the phone up, placing it on her chest, holding it with both of her hands. Her sleeves dropped ever so slightly, showing a glimpse of fading marks, of someone who had held her down, countless times. “Someone… said… Lost Souls is… has good people? I, um…” Don’t want to go home.

Duke’s eyes had trailed from the girl’s chattering teeth, to the obvious burner phone clutched tightly in her frail grasp, to the multitude of faded grip marks now apparent on her thin and pale wrists and he felt his jaw clenching in anger. He did his best to keep any heated response from showing on his face or in his stance but he’d seen bruises like that far too often on the kids in his hood- the Warren and the Boaz brothers, the Cernis siblings- until something or someone changed their situations. There were too many disgusting people in this world, too many people happy to hurt the ones they’re meant to be shielding, and Duke had seen more than enough proof before he followed his baby sister and her stooges into the Serpents. Everyone in this building had seen enough proof, that’s one of the reasons it existed.

“Hey, it’s alright,” He assured in a soft and low voice, reading between the lines of her answer and once again trying to soften his otherwise hard and muscular appearance. He let go of the door and let it slowly swing open so the girl could see the empty space behind him and see him fully and unguarded. His focus was now entirely on making the obviously abused young girl feel safe, or at least comfortable, enough that he could get her inside and get a warm blanket around her. “My name’s Duke Booker, and this is my apartment. Whoever told you this place was safe is right, and I’d like to help if you’d be okay with that.”

His demeanor was kind and his words were soothing. Pierce had always told her to not judge a book by its cover. Looks could be deceiving. Wolves could wear sheep’s clothing while good people could have fangs and venom, solely because that’s how they were raised to be. She was a bird, flying far from her cage, seeking safety from a place full of those that look like predators. Based on how this man presented himself and how he talked and even opened his door for her to see everything inside before she came to the decision of staying or going, she could tell not everyone was a monster. She could tell he meant well.

Her shoulders didn’t ease, since she was still frightened. Not at him or his apartment but at the fallout of her running away. Her grip on the phone tightened as she nodded and greeted back, “I’m Lorelei. My friends call me Lala…” her voice trailed off, as she stopped herself from giving her surname. If she told him too much, this could backfire. Lala was far too deep into the victim mindset that every word she said, every action she did, she wondered if it would turn against her. Taking a deep breath in and holding it in, she took a couple steps inside. Looking around, completely aware of her surroundings, alert and trying to find some clarity of how to feel safe in this moment, she exhaled, catching a couple of breaths, before apologizing again, “I’m sorry for intruding…”

“It’s no problem,” He assured the girl again. “I’m gonna close the door but I won’t lock it unless you want me to,” He dictated his actions to her before he did them, making sure the hypervigilant state the girl was in was at least partially satiated by the clear information. In the lull that closing the door created, Duke took a moment to look down and realized he still had his boots on. Why did he still have his boots on? He always took them off when he closed the door so what had stopped him today?

Oh. Right. His boyfriend got home early.

’Fuck.’

His fear of being discovered warred for only a second with his protective instinct over someone who is obviously a victim of abuse before he took a deep breath and announced, “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you this. I have someone else in the other room but I promise he’s harmless, I can get him out of here while you close yourself in the bathroom or something,” Duke’s own nerves suddenly picked up. He didn’t want Lala to think that he had tricked her, or that they were trying to corner her, but this was one of those situations he’d feared for years; a small mental slip now had someone close enough to discover his relationship with Dominic, and he had no idea how this stranger would react. “I’m sorry, again, I just forgot.”

“It’s okay…” Lala whispered, noting Duke’s fixation on his boots. She slowly took off her shoes by the door, assuming that was the etiquette of this household. “I… trust you.” Cautiously, she placed her shoes to the side before shuffling deeper into the apartment, not knowing where to go. She chose to stand in place, waiting for direction from the older figure. Obedient and patient, just how her dad trained her.

“Okay,” Duke replied, closing his eyes to keep her from seeing his frustration at himself and taking a moment to take his boots off before he also moved a little further into the room. He didn’t show it much, but he was honored by the girl’s somewhat easy trust of him, well aware that he wasn’t the most approachable looking in many people’s minds. Assuming she didn’t want to sit down until she knew where the other man in the apartment was going to be, he shuffled past her, giving her a wide berth as he did, and headed to his bedroom. Ready to get it over with, he quickly grasped the doorknob and flung the door open to reveal his boyfriend.

Or it would have, had Dominic not been listening with an ear to the door. As it was, there was a rather solid and impressive thunk! when the wood door met the taller man’s head and Duke immediately released the doorknob in favor of covering his mouth with his hands.

Dominic had been listening the entire time, only able to make out bits and pieces of what was said - most of it from his boyfriend. He hadn’t been able to make out everything he said and that was mostly due to how close his ear was pressed against the door. He was on one knee and the murmurs of something about ‘this place being safe’, Duke introducing himself to whoever was at the door. Did someone come over that Duke didn’t know? Again, it was impossible to hear, much like his boyfriend walking towards the bedroom and aimlessly swinging the door open with force.

Only that force was met with a not so sturdy Dominic. He felt the impact hit his ear and his head, knocking him clear away from the door and on his ass.

“Oh my god, babe, are you okay?” Duke asked, “I’m so sorry, do you need some ice-”

Before responding, Doc gave a shaking thumbs up gesture. He wasn’t hurt that bad. As he slowly raised himself upward, he held the left side of his head and he didn’t feel anything wet, which meant no blood. “Good news! There’s no blood, so you didn’t whack me that hard.” He laughed, only to feel nothing but discomfort in his head. He might be called Doc, but he wasn’t the kind that went to med school. “So, out of curiosity, why swing it so fast?” He peeped through the opened door and saw some little girl who looked oddly familiar and he just waved to her, smiling gently.

"I didn't know you were gonna be standing right on the other side!" Duke defended, dropping to his knees to grasp Doc's face, checking his eyes and gently tilting his head every which way until he was satisfied that he hadn't concussed his lover. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Duke finally silently declared Doc to be in good health. When the worry from that particular thought faded, it left room for a question of his own to form. "Wait, why were you so close to the door? Were you trying to listen in like some kinda old sitcom parent?" He took his hands, already conveniently on either side of Doc's face, and squished his cheeks together. "That shit don't work that easy, you dork."

Lorelai wasn’t like most young people. Some individuals that were left to their own devices would take the opportunity to be nosy and look around to gather information. Lala wasn’t like most people her age. She stood there, still holding the phone close to her chest, waiting for further instructions, not wanting to step out of line. As she stood there quietly, she reflected. She graduated highschool a couple of months ago. Her parents were there, pretending to be normal. People would go up to them and say how Pierce was such a tragic loss. He would’ve done amazing things. They were good at pretending. She was not, which is why she kept quiet. If she kept quiet, she wouldn’t have to lie.

Not too long ago she turned eighteen. Two days ago, actually. The day before Dear David. Her birthday was one of the days where her mother was more lenient of letting her out the house to spend time with friends. When she got in bad headspaces, it was hard to think about them because it was in those moments she felt more lonely than ever but now? As she heard two men, that she could only assume were lovers, playfully bicker, she thought of her friends and realized she had more reasons to better her life. To fight against her monsters. Bernie, Freya, Alaric, Alex… she had people that loved her. That was more than enough reason to carry on.

“It’s not like I intended to get whacked with a door. I didn’t know who would be at the door. I thought it might’ve been someone not as…tiny as the girl out there.” Dominic sighed and felt his head pulsate. His loving boyfriend had deemed him to be not brain damaged, but it felt like he was. Every breath he made felt like the migraine and the pain it came with was only getting worse the longer it went on. He might have to pay Dr. Sinclair a visit whenever he got the chance. “Anyway, now that it’s been established that I’ve got the common sense of the cast from Friends, who’s the girl? Is she okay?” From where he was and from what he could see, something was off but he couldn’t place his finger on it. Call it his sixth sense tugging at him or something like that.

Duke turned around to look at Lorelai and his hands retreated from Dominic's face on reflex, finding purchase on the doorframe as he stood back up before they were clasped behind his back like a kid caught touching something he shouldn't.

"Um, this is Lorelai- Lala. Lala this is Dominic he's uh," the Serpent Enforcer closed his eyes against the stupidity of what was about to come out of his mouth, especially given what the girl just saw, but he's been living with this secret for so long that the responses were practically ingrained. "He's a family friend and my neighbor."

’Please don't ask why I had him hiding in my bedroom. Play ignorant if you have to,’ he kept the plea from showing while taking a too-casual half step away from the doorway and wringing his hands behind his back, out of her sight.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Lala shyly replied, holding herself with proper posture and polite mannerisms. Gazing at them like authority figures, wide eyed and anxious, she rooted her feet to the ground. Her hands had dropped in front of her skirt as she tightly held onto the burner phone. “Sorry to have interrupted…” her deep, brown eyes went from one man to the next, understanding the situation but not wanting to comment on it. It wasn’t her place. “A woman named Samantha led me here and said I could find shelter. I…” she looked away from them, ashamed at her actions, knowing this would come to bite her in the ass later. Her melancholic gaze went from Dom’s face, straight to her feet like a forlorn, neglected animal who hasn’t had an ounce of kindness and love, the type you expect to get from family, in years. “...I don’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t interrupting anything at all.” Dominic gently smiled at Lorelai, seeing how she stood, how she acted, how she spoke. That off feeling he had from before that was just from a momentary glance increased and it made his stomach turn at the thought of what kind of torture she had to go through to be so…obedient with two people she barely even knew. “Samantha seems like she knew what she was talking about.” Dominic crouched down to Lorelai's eye level but didn’t advance any paces. Something told him he needed to go with caution. “She must care for you a lot. Lost Souls might not look like much, but it’s one of the safest places for anyone to live. We have good friends looking after us. Protecting us even when we don’t realize it. So you will be safe here, that much I can guarantee.” He spoke as softly as he could so she didn’t feel alarmed but not too soft so she heard every word he said.

“Good, I’m glad,” was all Lala could muster saying in response at first. All the nerves and anxiety that had gotten her to this point were now being formed into tears running down her cheeks. She was quick to back up and wipe her face, not realizing she even needed to cry. “Sorry, sorry,” she profusely apologized. “Thank you for being so kind to me. I know this is really weird,” she rambled, completely scatterbrained, “and I don’t know what I’m doing. I hope I’m not bothering you two… it’s just I don’t know what comes next. I never did this before. Maybe I’m making a mistake, maybe I’m being too impulsive. I could go back and apologize, maybe that will make everything better.”

"You're not bothering us," Duke reassured, his older brother instincts kicking back in as her tears started to fall, he made his way into the bathroom and came out with a roll of toilet paper, holding it out at arms length to her while apologizing, "Sorry, I don't really have tissue, but you can use this. And I'm sorry to say this, but it's pretty unheard of that returning and apologizing makes that-" he glanced at the bruises still showing on her wrists, no judgment in his tone, none of the anger he felt at seeing them showing on his features. "-any better. Usually it's just…more pain. If you're not comfortable here with us we understand, but please let us introduce you to some of the women that live here too. Maybe you have a friend we could call?"

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lala graciously took the toilet paper, sniffling as she placed the burner phone on the counter. Ripping a tiny piece of paper off to dab her face, she explained, “No one really knows about my situation. I’ve never told any of my friends and I don’t think I’m ready to tell them now. They’d feel bad for not noticing and I don’t want them to feel bad.” Instead of hugging the burner phone, she was now hugging the toilet paper. The fact that she was no longer holding the one thing that could protect her in this situation with two strangers, older men no less, showed she wasn’t scared of either of them. If anything, she felt safer here than anywhere else she’s ever been.

“I guess…” What would Kylee do? She asked herself internally, before offering an olive branch, “…We can start by getting to know each other better. And if you two are okay with me staying for a night, I can try to plan my next steps. I don’t want to meet new people and have to do this whole thing all over again.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “This was a lot for me to do but if I’m imposing then sure, we can find someone else,” Lala mustered to put a small smile on her face, which was still a little wet from tears, hoping she wasn’t being too demanding and they actually did want her to stay. “Whatever you guys think is best!”

“You’re not imposing, seriously, Lost Souls doors are always open to those who need help,” Duke reiterated to the newest lost soul herself. He looked back to Dominic and nodded him over to the couch, taking the seat next to him once he had sat down and looking to Lala, who was the last one standing. He hadn’t been questioning it before, figuring she didn’t want to be the one to sit down with two stronger strangers in the room, but now he realized she may not know what’s okay to do. He pointed to the plush and worn leather seat placed on the adjacent side of the coffee table to their right. “You can take a seat in the recliner there, the blanket over the back is really soft if you’d like to use it.”

With direction, Lala nodded and shuffled her way first to the blanket then to the seat. Getting herself situated, after placing her back pack at the foot of the chair and the toilet paper on the coffee table, she leaned back, pulling the blanket over her thin body. She placed a hand in front of her mouth and yawned into it. When she was comfortable, she surveyed the two older men before smiling and meeting Duke’s gaze, “Mr. Duke, you carry yourself differently when you’re around Mr. Dominic. I can tell there’s a lot of trust between you two.”

Whether they were platonic best friends or more, she knew she was lucky to be in their home. “I had someone I trusted too, with all my heart. He was my protector until Charlie decided to end that. But I know for him, I have to be strong. I have to protect myself.” As much trauma as Lala had gone through, she built enough power of will to articulate her words and her experiences. She didn’t go into too much detail about her own trauma but in time, with a trusted group of people, she was sure she’d get in a place where she could speak freely and let her story aid those who need to hear it. “I struggle though. I’m too weak to be a fighter and like, how do you fight something you’ve lived with most of your life? How do you fight monsters?”

Another person Charlie’s actions weighed on, of course. Duke couldn’t say he was surprised, almost everyone in town had some connection to those lost the day of the shooting. Charlie helped create a lot of lost souls himself. He didn’t quite know how to feel about her comment on him and Dominic, aside from the fact that it made him sweat a bit. If she could see that he acted differently around him and they just met, well, just how obvious was it to the people that knew them? Just how different did he act?

Tiberius Booker never liked different, much.

’How do you fight monsters?’

His father wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a great man by any stretch, don’t get him wrong. The man was every type of phobic that you could be when it came to the queer community and the things Duke had heard him say about his mama after the divorce were nothing short of vile. The man had let his drinking get the best of him and his idea of what makes a man was strictly enforced in both of his sons. But Duke had been the one to be home when he stumbled in drunk after a long night, pissed about people he saw out and about with their loves that day. Duke was the one Tiberius could fix before he became a problem.

You can be a bad person without passing the threshold into monster. Tiberius toed the line often, but didn’t like to cross it. He wasn’t a monster like the parents of some of Duke’s Serpent siblings, but Tiberius Booker would not need to worry about overcrowding at his funeral service.

’How do you fight monsters?’

The truth is, Duke doesn’t know how to reply to Lala in this moment, because he’d never fought his monsters, let alone his father. He’d taken the closet doors he was meant to burst out of and pulled them closed tighter, adding locks to the inside so no one could get to him where he was most vulnerable. Duke never knew how to fight his demons, and he never knew how to stand up to people like his father. But he did know one thing, and that was that, “No one’s too weak to be a fighter. Sure you have people like me or Creed with obvious muscles and fighters’ builds, but then you’ve got people like my girl Emira, who’s deceptively soft looking but could put most fighters on the floor. She could honestly probably teach you some moves, and if not I could talk to Marce and Cela next time I’m at Phil’s. Maybe it’s a little less about fighting your monsters right now, and more about building your strength to do it in the first place,” He looked over to Dominic for validation. “That makes sense, right?”

That was a heavy question Lorelai asked. Monsters existed all over in all shapes, sizes, and colors. They were sometimes the devil you knew while others were less obvious and paraded as a friend, or somebody who was just trying to get into your good graces so they could hurt you when your back was turned. Dominic, in his life, had experienced all forms of those people. Listening to Duke talk about what it took to combat them, he didn’t realize it but he was nodding even before his boyfriend looked his way.

He smiled at Duke and then to Lorelai. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m also not as great at conveying what you just said either. My brain goes woosh--” Dominic made the sound that an airplane makes when it’s taking off from the runway to emphasize what he just said, “--whenever I try to get my thoughts out. But everything Duke said is right. David took down Goliath with nothing but rocks and a sling, but he had the heart of an underdog and never gave up. That’s how ya beat whatever monster or demon you come across: by never giving up.” In that moment, Dominic had kind of realized he contradicted himself. Apparently he did know how to get his thoughts out when he wanted to.

Duke smiled at his boyfriend, realizing the same thing. He made an aborted movement to grab Dominic’s hand before he caught himself and played off of Dom’s words. “Everyone loves a good underdog story, and gaining the strength to fight your monsters, mental or physical, is a perfectly attainable idea. You’ve also already found me and Dom, and we aren’t exactly lone acts. You’ll have people in your corner if you want them there.”

The two lovers were so enthralled with one another that they didn’t notice the stranger they permitted in their apartment had dozed off, bundled in their fleece blanket. For once, Lorelei felt safe. The more they talked, the more her worries were put at ease and before they knew it, she faded and entered the land of dreams.

They were sweet men.

Maybe Lost Souls was the safest place in Edenridge. Maybe she could find a family here. She would have to thank Miss Samantha the next time she saw her. Her breathing was quiet and her posture, while more relaxed, was in a sitting position. Her head leaned back into the recliner as she imagined a bright, sunny day. No rain or cloud in the sky. No darkness to hide the monsters that only meant her harm. Just the sun and those that mattered. Mostly though, she thought of her brother.

Here with my homies.

Always great when the squad joins in on the crazy (don't worry our RP mother had us tested )

WElcome to the site! :)

The Unbanned Cabbage

Welcome (back!) The anti-spam filter is a double-edged sword it seems, but glad everything all worked out. :)

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{Flashback - Morning after the events at the Luncheon
]𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Anubis’ Home
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Hera@smarty0114 | Ares@Legion02
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Anubis @metanoia, Aphrodite @Akayaofthemoon, Isabel @Legion02}

---

Despite the rays of the multifaceted and benevolent morning gracing the world and the City of Seattle with her brilliance, something that, under normal circumstances, brings Anubis some semblance of peace or even a rebirth of one’s mood (as it typically did), he couldn’t say that was the case now. And this is for a myriad of reasons, but something was in the air and it had been since before first light.

Last night was an unorthodox night for the Guider of Souls. After returning from his private time spent at Illicit, Anubis received a call from an associate that nobody in their right mind would refuse. Ares, the Greek God of War asked a favor of his and he happily obliged. It was to see a human woman by the name of Isa. Their session was fine, or as fine as Anubis confidently could feel. Truth of the matter was that it went in a direction that he hadn’t expected.

Revealing their existence to someone outside of their species. Anubis had tried to ease her, but that wasn’t exactly what happened. He gave Isabel answers that only he could. Pensive as he was about it, how she reacted was…understandable, yet it plagued him well into the night. By 3am, he finally slept with the aid of one too many melatonin tablets, but he woke up just three hours later to a series of text messages on his cell phone. A series of texts that were from a former patient, sexual partner, and general bane of the entire Egyptian Pantheon’s existence.

Nooby Nooby, how I missed youuuu

We should play again soon! 💋

From Apep

There have been very few to ruffle the nonexistent hair of his mane, but that chaotic serpent goddess, the technical queen-adjacent of his pantheon, somehow to always get under his skin regardless how much distance he put between them.

For the hours that followed, Anubis had gone out of his way to block out all of these feelings, but that one text was just the icing on the ominous feeling he had. Not even his famous shakshuka shook that overall unease. He only consumed half of it and had downed two shots of his preferred coffee of choice, which was Cuban coffee. Strong as it was, one just wasn’t enough.

As he finished the dishes, he heard a knock on his door. A series of knocks, actually. In the back of his mind, he feared it was Apep. She would be the type to text him and then show up at his condo as if nothing happened between them the last time they saw each other. With a deep sigh, wearing only his bed gown - a deep brown-colored pajama-like gown that he found comfort in that covered all parts of his body except his collarbone and slit down the middle in the shape of a V that went down the middle of his pectorals - and a pair of expensive and comfortable fluffy slippers, he opened the door after the third round of some urgent knocking.

“Sorry--” Anubis spoke as he was opening the door, only to find two women on the opposite end. Both of whom he knew, but one in particular immediately brought an unknowing smile to his face. “Isa?” He questioned, blinking a few times as he wiped his eyes free of dust. His eyes scanned the human woman for a few seconds, gauging her face for any clues to explain her presence here. “And…Aphrodite?”

Okay, Anubis was officially confused. Given the state that the human daughter of war had left his condo last night, he didn’t expect she’d willingly come back, much less be in the company of a Goddess, especially one so…infamous like Aphrodite. “Been a long time, Aphrodite.”

To say Aphrodite reflected Anubis’s internal confusion would be a massive understatement. It was clear that this God knew her but her mind wasn’t supplying any recollection to this extremely gorgeous face which in itself should have been a sin to forget. She gazed into his eyes, the windows to one’s supposed soul and found a familiarity in them, a kindness which made her feel soothed and created a feeling of safeness but still nothing was clicking. It was only when she drew her eyes downward to take in the rest of his appearance that a smile graced her lips at the sudden recognition, sliding into his personal space, hands gliding over the exposed skin of his chest, reaching upward to rest them his jawline. ”That it has. Quite the new appearance you have, Anubis. It suits you.”, Aphro purred, admiring the Egyptian jackal in a new light.

They had always been friendly when pantheons were mingled in the past before the mess of her slumber and the fall but she wouldn’t mind being even friendlier now. She had always enjoyed the view of his physique, wondering how nice those hands would feel against her form and what he could do with those muscles but unlike Zeus, animal forms were not quite her cup of tea which had left friendliness and light-hearted flirting she did often to others. This was a positive difference. A very positive difference. ”I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important, but we require your assistance. Isn’t that right, Isa? …May we come in?”, she asked, briefly glancing over her shoulder when addressing the other woman before ignoring her once more, leaning closer to the God before her, lips lightly brushing against the shell of his ear as she continued with a whispered tease, ”Or do you need some convincing?” She grinned with a cheshire grin that might have put Bast to shame, pulling completely away to give Anubis some space once more.

“We should’ve gotten you some clothes.” Isabel groaned to herself as she rolled her eyes at Aphrodite who stepped up closer to the Egyptian god. She just raised a curious eyebrow at whatever the goddess was whispering. Well, she could garner a guess. Promises of tangled bedsheets and shaken worlds. “Anubis.” Isabel cut through it all. Her tone was not playful like Aphrodite’s. There was an insistence in it. “We do need to come in. It’s important.” She said, her eyes were burning as the hollow sense in her chest was growing again. For every minute she wasted finding her father he could be bleeding out somewhere. Some pleasantries would have to wait.

Anubis had frequently enjoyed the playfulness of others, especially that of Aphrodite’s unique way of teasing, but he could surmise that the half-mortal, half-divine woman did not share the same sentiments (as noted by how quickly and abruptly she cut the Greek Goddess of Lust off). He saw the way Aphrodite reacted to it, but he understood and just nodded and stepped to the side, letting both women into his condo. As he closed the door, he guided them both to his living room. Isa would remember it well as it was the same area of his home that she had her session.

As Aphro sat down and Isa chose to remain standing, Anubis also kept his vertical base. “Before we begin, could I interest either of you something to drink? Tea? Water? Perhaps something stronger?” At that last offer, his deep gaze went to Aphrodite. He remembered how much she enjoyed the unique blend of spices and fermented grapes that was the Divine version of Egyptian wine. Strong in its alcohol content, it was a pleasurable experience on the palette.

”Something stronger is always welcomed, especially with the current situation.”, she smiled softly. She might have seemed relaxed and unworried compared to Isabel but one of her babies was missing and to know Ares was also missing was extremely concerning. She didn’t know who to lean on without causing more concern. When she had no one else to turn to, she did what she did best by showing nothing was faltering or affecting her. It might be silly to some but it had gotten her through many times when she felt like giving up completely or crumbling.

“Current situation?” Anubis inquired. He could make an educated guess that something in the air was troubling. Not even eight hours removed from when Isa had darted out of his condo after their session, he could tell she was in even more distress than she had been. “Allow me to get you some wine, Aphrodite. And Isa, I will get you some chamomile tea. Perhaps it will help you. It will just be a moment, I promise.”

And in five of those moments, Anubis came back to his living room area with a tray that had three glasses on it. Two glasses of a deep purple wine that was imported from Egypt, something that Anubis had been quite fond of for the longest time and a hot but not too hot cup of chamomile tea for Isa. “I put a sprinkling of honey in your tea, Isa. I understand it might be hard, but if you can, please at least drink it. Many of my patients find the flavor of Chamomile to be quite relaxing.” Anubis said as he sat, though he wasn’t sure if Isa would take him up on the tea. Regardless, it was there if she wanted it. “Now tell me what happened.”

“My father is gone.” Isabel didn’t touch the tea. She didn’t need to feel relaxed. If she did, she would’ve stayed with the literal goddess of it. No, right now she had to be tense. She had to be razor sharp. “And he didn’t leave like before.” She quickly added. Her father did have a tendency to leave her alone for months on end. But then he’d always come back. She pulled out her phone and showed Anubis the video message her father had left her.

The message was straightforward: Ares explained that if she received the message that he was either captured or killed. He explained that there is a family secret he carried around and gave Isabel a handful of names – mortal names of the Olympians – who would explain that secret. The message then began to stutter. The audio cut out. By some cosmic maleficent chance it appeared that the video had been corrupted somehow. Only a few words could be understood: proud… love… anger… release.

“I couldn’t understand anything at the end of it.” Isabel said. Hearing her father’s voice gave her a sense of melancholy. Normally – in a situation like this one – she would’ve called him already. She had called him. Over a dozen times. Normally he would’ve answered fast. Not now. And it made her feel a little more alone. “I need to find him, doc.” She said to Anubis. It wasn’t a demand. It was almost a plea.

Anubis’ own expression grew tense, matching the severity of what had been eating away at the Daughter of War. It’s true that Ares was a mysterious individual, but in his time of having past dealings with the Greek God of War, Anubis always had this impression that he was one who stuck to a schedule. This clearly exceeded that routine and, if he was being absolutely earnest, it was frightening. Often, Anubis felt a certain grief when life was lost. Yesterday he felt that loss when those children of death were slain.

“This is truly dire, Isa. I am truly sorry. But one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is this.” Anubis leaned forward to give her his full attention. “I know your father is not dead. Something about myself, as well as I believe all those of us whose domain is the domain of death, I know when life is lost. I feel it in my heart and in my soul. I become overtaken by an unexplainable and outworldly melancholy that no mortal could possibly fathom. I felt it yesterday morning. About this time yesterday, but I have not felt it since.” But what troubled him more was those last words. What could they mean? “Please, if you take comfort in anything, let it be that your father still has a chance of being saved from…whatever may be responsible for his sudden disappearance.”

The words of the Egyptian were pretty and Aphrodite hoped that they were in fact truths and not a way to calm the pacing child. If it wasn’t true, she didn’t wish to know for fear of what that meant for those she cared for and if it was true, then she almost desperately wanted to ask what sense he had about Pothos. Her hands tightened around the almost polished off glass of wine, the usually exotic spices would be savored on her tongue but she couldn’t find a moment to fully appreciate it. It was a shame that it took so much more for immortals to feel the buzz she most definitely craved. Heck, there were quite a few ways she would like to be distracted from the nerve-wrecking anxiety of the unknown.

”Isa stated that the last place she saw her father was here. We were hoping that perhaps he shared his agenda with you or that you might have any ideas of where we can search next. He said something about the Festival when he was explaining what happened yesterday but I don’t know where that is or even what it is to be honest.”

Anubis could sense there was an atmosphere of dread between both Aphrodite and Isa combined. Naturally both had a certain investment in making sure that Ares was safe. Isa was his daughter and Aphrodite was the mother of several of his children. Anubis, too if he admitted it to himself, wished to see Ares' safety if not for the sake of the two women in front of him.

Looking between the both of them, though his immediate gaze fell on the Goddess of Love. "Regretfully, I cannot say with certainty where exactly. When Ares came here last night, he did so to leave Isa here with me. He was supposed to be back by 2am, but he never showed." Though Anubis wanted to respect the privacy between him and Isa's session last night, he knew to be as helpful as he could, he had to provide, at least, the bare minimum of why Ares was here in the first place. "You mentioned the festival. As I understand it, there was a luncheon held at the Olympic Club yesterday. Perhaps it might be a long shot, but could it be possible that's where he went? I admit, I had prior engagements yesterday so I couldn't make it myself, but I felt the events as if I was there to bear witness to the passing of our own." Anubis stared at the glass of Egyptian wine in his hand, staring down at it with a profound sadness in his eyes and on his face.

Aphrodite set her glass down and moved to Anubis’ side in an instant, taking his free hand gently into her own while her other hand rubbed his thigh gently since she was not sure how else to comfort him. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have death affect you without even being present for the events. The emotions once told of the event, sure, but to feel it as though bearing witness sounded like a painful sadness. It was a look that reflected in his eyes and it didn’t sit right with her. She wished she could fix it. Instead, she turned her attention to Isa for a brief moment before stating, ”Even if it is a long shot, I think the Olympic Club could be worth a try if we can manage to get access.” Her focus then switched back onto the God beside her. ”I’m sorry that you had to experience their passing in such a way. Death was never my forte and has not been one of the major qualms of my life but if you ever wish to talk, I would be happy to listen when the timing is more appropriate., she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. ”For now, I really must thank you for providing a lead but by chance do you have an address or know which Greek owns the establishment? I can only assume with the naming that one of the brilliantly creative members of my pantheon owns it.”

Anubis gave Aphrodite a small smile, one that was bleeding with graditude and gave her hand a light squeeze in return, acknowledging her gesture and her compassionate words. He was appreciative of them, as well thankful for them. His abilities, even long since before the fall, was a heavy burden for him to bear but he always did so with a positive outlook on the unfortunate passing of souls from this realm to the one he one day hopes he may return to himself. Death was not the end of a journey. As the Guider of Souls, he not only believed with every fiber of his existence, but also as a man of Earth, that even without deities to control the passing of these lost souls into their respective afterlifes, he had to believe something or someone was still at play. He couldn’t entertain the notion that this wasn’t the truth. His entire belief system depended on that being absolute.

He shifted gears away from the melancholy of what consumed his mind for a few moments onto what the Greek Goddess of Love asked, almost musing a laugh in response but he remained composed. “I regretfully don’t know who owns it, but I do have the address. Hera, your pantheon’s queen, as I understand it, was the one who hosted the Luncheon yesterday. She was…very thorough. Made sure everyone who should have attended had the address and I still have the envelope it came in, though that might not be necessary as I memorized it.” Anubis reached for the table in front, grabbing his notepad that rested on it with a pen attached to it. He wrote the address of the Olympus Club on it, tearing the piece of the pad that had the address on it, and handed it to Aphrodite.

Isabel moved like a cat to snatch the piece of paper from Anubis’ hands. She knew a token when she saw one. And while the good doctor probably didn’t intend to trade for it, she wasn’t in the mood for whatever games Aphrodite and him would play with that piece of paper as a prop. “What’s Hera’s… mortal name?” She quick asked as well as she started looking at the address with her phone.

”Of course she hosted it, practically screams Hera a mile away since she has a need for control.”, she snickered at Anubis comment leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs and adjusting the uncomfortable coat material against her skin. She had been about to receive the address to pass to Isa since she was better at directions but it seemed the woman had other plans. ”Rude.”, Aphro muttered with a roll of her eyes at the snatched paper from her fingertips, letting the incident slide but still moving to rub her temples. Why did it have to be Hera? At least it wasn’t Athena but it still wasn’t good in any case since they had always had a rocky relationship, the golden apple mess had not helped with the Queen’s jealousy and irritation at her.

She gave a side glance at what was Hera’s grandchild and wondered if the knowledge of her existence would outweigh the Queen of the Gods hatred for herself if they needed to speak with her. It would be wise not to further upset Hera with the knowledge of Ares' disappearance but sadly, as a mother she did have the right to know and might have connections. It felt like a double edged sword and if it wasn’t for her own baby missing, she would suggest to Isa that they part ways here but she wasn’t sure that was a smart idea. Maybe she could just convince Isa to remove that factor all together unless they got caught. She grabbed her glass, tapping her fingers against it to keep her hands busy as she spoke, ”Do you really need her mortal name? Perhaps we should just avoid her and focus on the task at hand.”

For the moment, Anubis had just realized just how deep the Greek drama went, how much there was to it. Anubis had sworn to himself he wouldn’t ever become too entangled in their family drama, but that part of him that always felt like he needed to help those who were in need of it - the empathetic side that always led him down some very dark, melancholic periods - never shied away what made him visibly uncomfortable. “Isa, unless this is related to the situation at hand, I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information, for it is privileged information. Even for someone who is as…infamous as the Queen of Olympus, she is entitled to her privacy.” In truth, something about the way that Isabel was acting, the change in her demeanor, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was unsettling. His first instinct was to let his purple smoke calm whatever it was that pained Isa, but he couldn’t do that without her permission.

“Unless it is related?” Isa said. She felt herself getting angry. “My father… her son… vanishes and you sit here and talk about privacy?” It hit a nerve with Isabel, who was ready to do just about anything to get her father back. Someone else’s privacy did not matter at all right now. But she couldn’t lash out now like she did before. This anger, she had to focus it. So she closed her eyes for a second and took a single deep breath. “I got what I need then I suppose.” She said. The tone in her voice was unnaturally cold after the outburst. But it wouldn’t take a therapist to recognize the internalized anger.

It afforded her a dangerous clarity of mind. The guide of the dead had given her all he could at the moment. In fact, he gave her more than he expected. Sure, he would not divulge the name but he linked her to an event. A little social engineering could pry the name from the Club when she visited. “Thank you, Anubis.” She said as she got up. “I’ll take my leave.” The tea remained completely untouched.

“Of course. I apologize that I couldn’t be of any help to you, Isa.” Anubis let it show on his face through a gentle smile that hid a mind that was analyzing Isa’s subtle change in her demeanor. Even as he watched the demigoddess leave his condo and the door closed behind her. He understood, at least on some level, that she was likely holding something closely resembling a grudge against him because he didn’t divulge Hera’s mortal name to her.

With a sigh and he leaned back against the couch. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. An immense disappointment overwhelmed the Guider of Souls. Not just in himself but because he couldn’t bring himself to help Isa in the way she wanted him to.

Secret Force: A Power Rangers RP

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}

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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.”