#and the one in the top right corner is my own desing

[dragonjadearts]

i’ve been replying the witcher 3 and i forgot how much i love Elihal

[miryum]

Nickels (Spot Conlon x Reader)- Part 4

Spot pov

"Sister?" I choked, "Yous have a sister? And Y/n is dat sister?" I dragged a hand down my face, "Whats the hell?! Y/n, yous never told me dis!"

"I'se still reelin' from dat Nickels is a goil." Jack's mouth was open and he looked very confused.

"I'se didn' tell yous 'cause yous didn' need ta know." Y/n snarled.

"What else are yous keepin' from me?" I asked, a little hurt.

Y/n glanced over at Emerson really quickly, then back down at the floor. "Stuff dat doesn't concern yous."

"I'se think it does concern me!" My voice was getting louder, but I didn't seem to care.

"Why?!" Y/n stood up, matching my tone, "Why does it concern yous? Youse haven't done anything fo' me!"

"I've done plenty fo' yous and yous know it!" We're only inches apart now, both our chests heaving.

"Emerson." Y/n said, not breaking eye contact with me, "Will yous help Jackie boy wid da strike?"

"Yes." Emerson said immediately.

"Good." Y/n said, "Now, all of yous... Get. Out. Now. Befo' (before) I'se soak ya."

I huffed, but stalked out of the room. Jack and Davey quickly followed.

"What was dat alls about?" Jack asked the second we were out the door, "'Ows exactly did yous an' Nickels meet?"

"It's a long story." I take off my cap, run a hand through my hair, and put it back on.

Davey glanced back at the door, which was now closed, and said in a low tone, "Did you hear Emerson?"

"Whats do yous mean?" I asked, still a little ruffled from the meeting.

"He didn't talk like other newsies do. Like you do. He sounded like he came from a more... proper household. Had an education. No offense." He added quickly. I brushed it off, "I was just wondering who their parents were."

"All I'se 'eard is dat dere mudda died some'ow." I said. "But I'se don't know who dere fader (father) is."

Davey chewed on his bottom lip. "I feel like it's important for some reason."

"I'se wouldn't stress 'bout it too much." Jack clapped Davey on the shoulder, "Now," He turned to me, "Whys didn't yous tell us dat dere was a super 'ot (hot) goil newsies?"

"I promised not to tell!" I defended myself.

"What else are yous keepin' from us?" Jack asked, using my own words against me.

My fists curled into fists, but I took a deep breath. Don't exactly want to get into a fight in the Bronx. The newsies were known for being harsh here. I nodded Jack and Davey out the door of the Bronx lodging house, and found a alley where we could talk.

"Y/n an' I'se met just befo' she became a newsie." I started, sitting down on a crate and Jack and Davey following, "She an' Emerson were new to da streets, an' she was doin' 'er best to keep 'erself an' Emerson alive. Still all dolled up, too. In a long dress an' 'er fancy shoes. Problem was, dat caught a lotta guys attention. Got 'erself backed into a corner one night. Bastard guys 'ittin' (hitting) on 'er. Poor little Emerson came an' tried to defend 'er, but 'e's was only five or six at da time. One guy pulled out a knife and da next ting yous know, little Emmie is on da ground, bleeding out." I stop, realizing I just disclosed Emerson and Y/n's greatest secret. I huff, and move on, "If it weren't fo' 'er screams, I would 'ave never came. Got dere just in time too. Fought off dose guys, brought dem back to da lodging 'ouse, patched Emmie up, and help Y/n into da roll of a newsie. Pulled some strings an' got Emmie to da top of da Bronx, too. Ting was, I'se dought (thought) dat dese were runnin' away togeder 'cause dere families didn't want dem to be's togeder. Didn't know dey were brodder and sister."

"But he's so much younger than her!" Davey protested.

I barked out a laugh, "Didn't look dat way back den. Y/n was much mo' (more) small an' fragile back den. Emmie 'ad been fed well, an' looked decent fo' 'is age. But, I'se guess wit Y/n runnin' around de streets now an' Emmie in bed, da roles are reversed."

"Dat's a mighty long story dere." Jack said, "Impressive."

"And you called Emerson, Emmie. Right?" Davey smiled.

I cursed, "Yous don't tell anyones dat! Got it?" I reached for my pimp cane, then remembered that Y/n had it. I cursed again.

Davey noticed and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything thankfully.

"Wells," Jack stood up, "We's betta be gettin' back ta 'Hattan. Good talkin' ta ya Spot." We spit shook and I then tipped my hat at Davey.

"Bye dere Jackie boy!" I called as he and Davey started walking back.

I started walking back to Brooklyn before I remembered something. I smirked and looked back at the Bronx lodging house.

Y/n still owes me a kiss.

[gendercraft]

When I Fell Overboard [Chapter Three: Strawberries & Pomegranates]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: Sebastian struggles with his relationship with Maru as she strives to get close to him. Meanwhile, he and Elliott get closer and closer.

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, fighting, snapping, potentially unsympathetic Robin, crying, food mention, let me know if I missed anything please

Things at home weren’t the same after Sebastian and Maru talked. 

He had a feeling she talked to Mom and Demetrius, because everyone was awkward around him, walking on eggshells. 

“Are you going somewhere today, Sebby?” Mom asked stiffly one day as he crossed the foyer. Demetrius and Maru tinkered in the lab next door. 

“Pierre’s,” he mumbled, hand on the doorknob but not turning. His hood was flicked up, his back to her. 

“Well, that sounds fun. What are you getting?” 

“Oh, Sebastian!” Demetrius put down the beaker and fumbled for his coin pouch. “Here, let me—”

“What are you doing?” Sebastian stared at him with wide eyes. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I give my step son a little spending money?” 

Sebastian stared. Could he? He guessed, sure. He never had before. Just Maru. 

“Don’t be so stiff, honey,” Mom said, stiff. “Is everything okay?” 

Maru gave him a knowing look. She rolled her eyes, mouth quirked. Sebastian stifled a laugh. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just… it’s fine.” 

Demetrius came over and handed him a handful of gold. Sebastian slipped it in his pocket. 

“Do you want me to… pick something up for you?” He asked uncertainly. 

“Uh— Sure! Honey, do we need anything?” Demetrius turned back to Mom. 

She smiled, and it didn’t reach her eyes. “Um…” 

“Can you get me some strawberries?” Maru asked, frustration leaking into her voice. She nodded at the door. 

Sebastian fumbled to turn the handle and push the door open. “Yeah, I can— sure. Yeah.”

He ducked his head and rushed out as Mom called a, “Love you, honey! See you soon!” and slammed the door behind him. 

What the fuck was that about? 

He guessed Maru told them that she was going to try, so they should too, but they would stop the moment Maru did. Maybe Sebastian wouldn’t pick out the perfectly ripe strawberries and Maru would be upset so Demetrius would get on his ass about it. There goes the dollhouse. He shuddered. If that was them trying, it was creepy. They didn’t have to treat him like Maru for him to be happy, they just had to… 

To what? Of course he wanted to be treated like Maru. But if that was how Maru was treated, it was fucking weird. So what did he want? 

He trekked the long hike down the mountain to the heart of Pelican Town, the cobble roads and Evelyn Mullners’ gardens and the Stardrop Saloon. It was late—Shane was already headed inside the saloon, probably racing Pam there, since the two could only care to move that fast for alcohol. Pierre was only open another half hour. His lips turned down as Sebastian entered. 

“Good to see you!” He called. “Thanks for shopping at Pierre’s! Can I help you find anything? We have a brand new selection of fresh produce, compliments to Farmer—” 

“I don’t need your help,” Sebastian snapped. 

Pierre always pissed him off. His greed was his entire life. Abigail showed up at the saloon on more than a couple Fridays pissed and ready to pound back drinks because of something he did, something he didn’t do, something that wasn’t as important as his shop. 

Sebastian stopped at the aisle and sighed. Embarrassment twinged in his stomach. “Pierre?” He asked, gripping the hem of his hoodie. 

Pierre forced a smile. “How can I help you?” 

“Strawberries?” 

“Yes, we have some left over from spring. Right over here.” 

Sebastian drifted over to the tubs of produce. “Thanks,” he sighed. 

He picked up a basket and carefully picked out a carton of strawberries. Anxiety Farm—Sebastian always liked that name—was written on the label, a little purple stormcloud as its logo. He dropped it in his basket. 

“Strawberries?” 

Sebastian jumped. He turned to Elliott, forcing away the smile fighting to curl on his lips. “What?” 

“I didn’t take you for the strawberry type,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I’m partial to pomegranates, myself.” 

“Pomegranates are better,” Sebastian mumbled. “They’re sour.” 

“They are! A pain to deseed, though.” 

Elliott stepped next to him and grabbed a basket. He picked out a few pomegranates and slipped them inside. 

“So how are you doing?” He asked quietly. 

Sebastian shifted nervously. “Okay, I guess.” 

“You guess?” Elliott glanced at him. “Any more…?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I mean, the anxiety never really goes away you know, but—” 

“Oh, I know.” Elliott hesitated. “I have a little sister with anxiety. It’s about as bad as yours, it seems.” 

Sebastian eyed the strawberries as if he were considering buying more. He wasn’t. “What’s her name?”

“Elliwyn.” 

Sebastian stared at him. “You’re joking.” 

His mouth quirked up. “I’m not.” 

“Any brothers?” He drifted across the way to the aisles. There were a few canned meals that weren’t too bad. Plus, they were quick to make after working on a project for twelve hours and suddenly realizing that he was ravenous. 

“Two. Jasper and Alistair. I’m the eldest.” 

“God, your parents are pretentious, aren’t they?” 

Sebastian nearly sighed. Dumbass. Don’t insult his family. 

Elliott laughed. “A little bit.” Then he smoothed down his coat with his free hand, looking away. “I suppose I am a little, too.” 

He leaned against the aisle and watched him. “I used to think so,” he admitted. “Not really anymore.” 

Elliott lit up. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know. You’re cool, I guess.” 

Elliott’s face flushed. “Now that I have your approval, I can go on.”

Sebastian shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 

“You seem off today. What’s wrong?” 

“God, how do you do that? It’s a little creepy.” He drifted down to the sodas, avoiding the Joja Cola. Sometimes he bought it for Sam but the stuff made Sebastian sick. He didn’t know how Sam drank that shit. 

“Call me an empath. Did something happen?” 

Sebastian hesitated, then ran through the thing with as little details as possible. 

“I don’t understand.” Elliott picked out a few spices—Ha. Sage. “That’s not a good thing?” 

“No, I mean, I don’t know… It was just weird.” He grabbed a pack of sour candy, and Elliott picked out a few boxes of teabags. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Do you want help?” They wandered towards the checkout counter. “We can go back to my cabin, talk it out.” 

Sebastian set his basket on the counter, and Pierre rang him up. “Why?” He asked suspiciously. “Why are you… doing all this?” 

“Well, for one, when I see someone needs help, I can’t help but offer. I wouldn’t feel right to not.” 

“That can’t be healthy.” 

“And for two,” Elliott smiled, pushing his hair over his shoulder, “it certainly wouldn’t be a chore to spend more time with you.” 

Sebastian flushed deep red, his blood rushing through his ears. He barely heard Pierre give him the total and fumbled for his coin pouch. Some of the gold clattered on the counter.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking his bags and ducking out of the way. 

“So?” Elliott asked with a grin as Pierre rang him up. 

“Sure,” Sebastian mumbled. Anything to not have to go home. 

Elliott placed a hand on Sebastian’s back and led him out of the store, carrying their bags. People stared as they walked, Sebastian was sure of it, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the ground. Elliott stopped a moment to talk to Evelyn Mullner, and Sebastian stood there awkwardly. Evelyn liked everyone, so she wasn’t one of the people who cringed whenever Sebastian came near, but she didn’t have much to say to him besides a pleasant hello. 

“Are you not close with anyone?” Elliott asked with a laugh after they left. “Evelyn is so easy to talk to.” 

“No one is ‘easy’ to talk to,” he grumbled. 

“Ah.” He pulled open his cabin door and gestured Sebastian inside. 

It was warm inside. Sebastian looked around and found the small electric heater plugged in the corner, oscillating heat around the small space. He sat on the piano bench and Elliott sat at his writing desk. It was cramped enough that their knees touched. Maybe Sebastian was sitting just a bit too far forward. He certainly didn’t move back. 

“Is there not anyone you can talk to?” 

Sebastian hesitated, looking down. “Not really,” he mumbled. 

“Sam and Abigail?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Just…” He sighed harshly, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey,” Elliott rested a hand on Sebastian’s knee, and Sebastian’s gaze snapped to his, eyes wide. “This isn’t a therapy session and we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. It’s supposed to help. No use getting worked up over it.” 

Sebastian nodded. It was all he could do with Elliott’s hand still there. Elliott smiled. 

“Uh…” He hesitated, then rested his hand over Elliott’s. His hand was so soft, much softer than Sebastian’s own eczema-ridden skin. Especially in the summer, it was death. “We can talk, just not… I don’t know. It’s not… there’s no one I… It’s different. It’s different being close with them and being…”

“Intimate?” Elliott asked, and Sebastian shook his head. 

“I don’t know, you know how you’re supposed to have those people where you don’t have any anxiety around them, you can completely be yourself and say anything?” 

He nodded. “I do.” 

“Do you have one of those?” 

Elliott bit his lip. “I can’t say I do.” 

“Me, neither. It sucks.” 

Elliott watched him for a moment. Sebastian could feel his eyes burning into the top of his head. Sebastian kept his gaze on their hands, wanting to simultaneously move and never move again. Did he want Elliott to flip his hand, so they could lace their fingers? Did Sebastian want to yank his hand back and shove them in his pockets? Was he fine with how it was? His skin was crawling, but not in a disgusted way—in a way where he craved something. Something. What did he need? 

“It does suck,” Elliott said softly. “But I’m happy to try and be that person for you, Sebastian.” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” He chuckled. “You’ve been perfectly lovely to me. I honestly can’t understand the things some of these people say about you.” 

“Like Caroline?” Sebastian scowled. Abigail’s mom never liked him. 

“Like Caroline. Dyed hair and piercings does not a bad influence make. Oh! I have a great idea.” 

He ripped his hand back and dug around in his groceries for a moment. Sebastian pulled his hand to his chest as Elliott found a pomegranate and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back with a small bowl, and the fruit cut in half. He gestured for Sebastian to scoot back, so he did, and they sat on opposite ends of the piano bench with the bowl in between them. 

“You don’t need to-” 

“I insist! I have plenty.” 

He took one half and pressed it into Sebastian’s palm. Sebastian blushed and looked away. 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

They worked in silence for a little while, popping the seeds out and gradually filling the bowl. It was tiring work. Sebastian’s back ached, his fingers stiff. They occasionally cheated and stole a few seeds out to chew on while they worked. 

“Did you ever have a person like that?” Sebastian asked quietly. 

Elliott hummed, eyes on his half of the fruit. “Once, I thought I did. I was wrong, though.” 

“What happened?” 

“He wasn’t a good person.” 

“How’d you meet?”

“A concert, if you’d believe it.” 

Sebastian looked up, grinning. “I do not. What band?” 

Elliot leaned forward and whispered, “Broken Belladonna.” 

“No!” 

“Yes.” 

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. 

“It was one of their last, when I was in high school.” 

“Were you dating?” 

“We did for a little while. Two years.” 

“Yoba.” Sebastian had never had a relationship last longer than a few weeks. He was too awkward, too slow. “Did he… do something to you?” 

Elliott smiled and popped a few seeds into the bowl. “He wasn’t a very good person.” 

Sebastian swallowed. He wanted to press, to know that it wasn’t as bad as what was going through his mind, but Elliott clearly didn’t want to talk about it and Yoba, what if it were that bad? What was Sebastian supposed to say to that? 

“It was a long time ago, Sebastian,” Elliott promised. “You don’t need to worry.” 

“You know that’s not how it works, right?” He rolled his eyes. “Shit doesn’t just go away. It’s alright if it’s still affecting you.” 

“Well, look at that!” Elliott looked up with a grin. “You can make healthy habits.” 

“Dear Yoba,” he mumbled. “You sound like my mom. Or Demetrius. Or Maru.” 

He hesitated. “Well,” he said softly, “those are the last people I want to sound like. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled. 

Elliott tipped his chin up. “What did I say last time?” 

He shrugged a little, swallowing. “I don’t remember.” 

“I think you do. But I said that if it bothers you, it is a big deal. And to be kinder to yourself.” 

Keep touching me. 

Sebastian blinked. Where did that come from? 

“Right.” They finished the pomegranates and set the empty shells to the side, digging into the rewards of their work. “I’ll try.” 

After a while of eating in silence—normally that would be torturous, but Sebastian found himself not minding the quiet company—Sebastian turned to face the piano. He wiped his hands on his pants and settled his fingers on the keys. It was dusty and a little decrepit, but worked fine enough. Not great, but fine. 

“You know how to play?” He asked. 

Elliott shook his head. “No. It came with the cabin.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Elliott smiled. “I’m sorry?” 

“I took a few lessons. I could teach you the basics, at least.” 

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you. A grand piano?” 

Sebastian stared at the keys. “Mom didn’t like the keyboard,” he mumbled. “I figured… it doesn’t matter. I know. And I want to thank you.” 

“You could just say the words.” 

“I could,” he agreed. “But you’ve done a lot of emotional labour for me. Let me do something more. It’ll at least help me feel less guilty.” 

Elliott perked up. “Well, if it’ll help you!”

“Dude, that wasn’t the point.” 

He set the bowl aside. “Show me.” 

“Alright,” Sebastian laughed. “Here, put your hands here. You should know the names of the keys…”

They spent the next few hours at the piano. They gradually grew closer until their hips were pressed together, and Sebastian found himself laughing quite a lot. A lot more than he had in a while. Elliott had a way of catching Sebastian off guard. 

Sebastian yawned, long after the sun had set, and his head drooped. His head was only inches from Elliott’s shoulder, so, pulled there by gravity, Sebastian nuzzled into it. Elliott laughed and rested a hand on the back of Sebastian’s head. 

“Someone needs to go to bed,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to the top of Sebastian’s head. His hair fell down like a curtain, leaving them alone. “Do you want to spend the night?” 

Yes. Yes! 

“I can’t,” he said in frustration. “Those fucking strawberries. They’re for Maru.” 

Elliott blinked. “Will she even be awake?” 

“Well, what time is it?” 

“Almost midnight.” 

“Shit!” Sebastian pulled back and grabbed his bags. “Fuck, sorry, I gotta go. Mom hates me staying out this late.” 

“Sebastian, you’re an adult—”

“Stop saying that,” he groaned. “I know I can. It’s just not worth the lecture right now, okay?” Then, before he could get anxious about it, he lurched forward and gave Elliott a hug. 

Elliott grunted, but his arms came to wrap around Sebastian and Yoba, it was just as good as he thought. A little awkward, Sebastian’s feet were too far away and he was scared to move them closer in fear Elliott would pull away, but his head fit perfectly in the crook of Elliott’s neck and wow, he really smelled strongly of everything fresh and good. 

“Okay.” He pulled away after a few minutes. He was lightheaded, a little dizzy. “Uhh, I gotta go. Thanks for… everything. Um, when can I swing by again? You know, to teach you more.” 

Elliott smiled. “Right. Any time is fine with me. Maybe tomorrow?” 

He smiled back. “Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow.” 

He left. He smoked a cigarette on the way back to calm his nerves. He was shaking from that hug. How did that even happen? Elliott didn’t shove him off, didn’t pull away, didn’t… he just hugged him. He even seemed to enjoy it. 

Sebastian rubbed his thumb against his index finger, against a crack in his skin. It burned. There was more on his face, his neck. He could hide it with soft hoodies, soft fake jeans, but he couldn’t very well go around in the skeleton mask the farmer wore sometimes. Did Elliott stare at it when they were hugging? Did he avoid the patches on his neck? Why? 

He shook his head. He would just have to wait, see if Elliott hugged him first. He couldn’t be that put off, he touched Sebastian first all the time. Surely a hug wouldn’t be out of the question. 

Right? 

He stomped his cigarette out outside the front door and crept inside. The lights were all out, except Maru’s. He tiptoed over to her door and knocked quietly. 

It opened a moment later. “Yoba, that took you forever. Had to go to Zuzu City to find any?” 

“Haha. Here.” He pulled them out of his bag and handed it to her. “I’m going to go eat.” 

“Wait. Where were you?” 

Sebastian stopped, but didn’t answer. 

“Mom said she heard from Caroline that you were with Elliott. What were you doing with him?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” He snapped. 

“Oh— Nothing bad! Sorry.” She sounded sheepish. “I just mean… well, you don’t seem like you’d mesh very well.” 

“He’s nice.” 

“Yeah, and you’re not. So… is it true? Were you with Elliott?” 

“Didn’t we agree to leave each other alone for now on?” Sebastian stalked down the hall. “So leave me alone.” 

He disappeared into the kitchen. All of his senses alive and aching, he stumbled through making himself a bowl of soup, ears straining. 

Maru’s door closed.

new chapter posted bc someone commented on ao3, continuing that system. once i get feedback, the next chapter gets posted <3 

[ivadeshin]

Five Soda Maximum (High School AU) pt 15

(need to start from the beginning?)

“What do they do in Germany for dates?”

Caleb laughs and opens a bag of chips. “I would not know.”

“C’mon.” Molly’s tail flicks behind him, amused. Caleb shrugs and tries to think.

“Same thing as Americans, I guess. Kids go to movies. Adults go to restaurants with the lights at... hmm. Medium lights?”

“With the lights dimmed?”

Caleb nods. “With the lights dimmed.”

“And a single tea light in the middle of the table,” Molly adds in a serious hush, pretending to cup his hands around a tiny candle between them. “To roast... your tiny fancy restaurant marshmallows on.”

Caleb snorts. “On toothpicks?”

“Yeah,” Molly agrees. “You could use the ones that come in hot chocolate mix.”

“Nein, those are... too hard, they are like sugary American cereal pieces. What is that brand Jester tried to - oh, Lucky Charms. Those are not marshmallows!”

“They’re... marshmallow... inspired?” Molly pulls out something wrapped in foil, and it turns out to be half a meatball sub. Caleb makes an interested sound, tugging the bag toward him and rummaging for the other half. “Is your stomach thing getting better?”

Caleb feels a mild rush of embarrassment, but it’s more minor than it would have been several weeks ago. The entire group seems to have settled on offering to share what food they’ve got, happy when he eats full portions and not pressuring him when he can’t. It’s a lot less confrontational than what he gets at home, and he feels a little silly for expecting outsiders to treat him the same as his parents. “Yes,” he says honestly. “I think um, just unpacking... knowing my school schedule... understanding more English...”

“Being settled,” Molly finishes for him. Caleb nods.

“Yes, good word. Settled.”

“Is it that new things, um, stress you out, or was it specifically moving from Germany to here?”

“Much more the second thing.” Caleb tucks some hair behind his ear, taking a deep breath and looking around a little. He can smell faint tobacco smoke from the alley they went in - it seems like the employees take their breaks there instead of up here, and so it’s unsurprising that they haven’t seen anyone else come up. That’s probably why Molly picked it.

“Did you move for work?”

Caleb blinks, a little too lost in thought to make sense of the question.

Molly shrugs. “I mean, your dad, or your mom, did they have to move here for a job.”

“No.” Caleb laughs softly. “Their jobs here are... are not better, I think they are, they, they are much worse, actually.” He unwraps his sub and takes a few bites.

“I’m not making the best conversation to get you hungry, am I.” Molly rubs his horn and looks away.

Caleb wants little more in life than to keep Molly from being sad. “S’ok,” he says around a mouthful of meatball. “Did... you... mag...dese?”

Molly laughs. “Yeah, my own secret recipe. I wanted us to have some hot food but I can’t make much.”

Caleb shakes his head and makes a thumbs up sign, glowering at his thumb when he sees that it’s already got a streak of red sauce on it.

“Oh! Here, hold on.” Molly sorts through the bag, pulling out a large plastic chip clip that’s holding on to a small stack of paper napkins. He pulls a couple out and then sets the clip on the table between them. Caleb’s just finished cleaning himself up when his phone chirps.

Nott (green fist emoji): sup

Caleb grins at his phone. “I am going to take a picture and send it to Nott,” he says, and stands up to take a top-down photo of the items spread out on the table. Molly starts to lean back, getting his folded arms out of the shot. “No, it is okay, you are part of the...” Caleb blushes and Molly laughs, leaning in further and crossing his eyes at the camera lens. Caleb takes the picture.

“We should take a selfie later,” Molly is saying, as Caleb clicks through the options to send the attachment to Nott. “My Facebook profile picture is super old.” He stops when Caleb freezes. “Friends take selfies together here, guy friends, it’s-”

“I cannot go on Facebook,” Caleb says too quickly. “I mean, I can. I can look at it but I cannot, no pictures.”

Molly blinks. “Even if I don’t tag you?”

Caleb shakes his head quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s, it’s complicated.”

“How would your parents even know? I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just...” Molly gestures with the remains of his sandwich. “You filled out that form to not be in the yearbook, and it’s like, there are parts of it I don’t get, I guess.”

“Those two things are not about my parents, exactly.” Caleb looks down at his sub, sitting up a little straighter and making himself finish it before he says anything else that’s going to send him into stomach cramps. He’s almost done when he realizes Molly hasn’t said anything, is waiting on him, aware that there’s more. “I cannot have my face show up on the internet. Neither can my parents. We came to America because we could not hide well in Germany.”

Molly’s voice gets quiet. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Caleb crumples up his tinfoil very carefully, turning the corners inward and then the corners made by that, over and over. “It is not, we are not terrorists or something. The German government is not mad at us.”

Molly doesn’t say anything.

“It is hard to explain and I have not told anyone yet. I do not want people to know. I had to... there is a queue you must wait in, they decide if you can m-move to the U.S. and we had to go quickly so, so I made up, I.” Caleb takes in a shuddering breath and realizes he’s trembling a little. He tries to complete the sentence, but his mouth opens and nothing comes out. The table shifts a little as Molly gets up, and Caleb looks up and sees Molly rushing around the side to scoot in next to him, grabbing his hand on the table and squeezing it.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I do not know,” Caleb says, and laughs a little desperately. “I am sorry... this... it is all very...”

Molly shakes his head several times, then tilts his head so his left horn is resting gently against Caleb’s right temple. “Um. I can’t remember anything from before I was fourteen.”

Caleb inhales slowly. “A... again, please?”

“I can’t remember anything from my life from before I was fourteen. I only remember things from age fourteen to now.” Molly’s face isn’t visible to Caleb right now, but he sounds like he’s smiling and also like he’s kind of hurt. “Does that help? I’m not trying to one-up you, I’m just. Trying to make sure you don’t feel weird.”

That certainly wasn’t what Caleb was expecting to hear. “You... hit your head? Something hit your head?”

“No.” Molly’s thumb strokes over his fingers in slow, gentle sweeps. “They did a bunch of scans because that’s what everyone figured, but there was no, you know, internal swelling, or skull damage, or any brain damage...”

“Are you sick?” Caleb sounds about as scared as he feels.

“No, there’s no reason to think so.” Molly pulls back and frowns at Caleb’s expression “I think I scared you worse. Shit.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I kind of panicked.”

“But that is real, what you said.”

“Yeah, it’s really real. I don’t remember anything. They think it might be psychological but that’s, like, impossible to rule out, so it’s always on the table? If that makes sense?”

Caleb tries to reach into his mind, searching for what he knows about memories and brains and... “Trauma, sometimes it gets locked up and you cannot ... think of it?”

“Yeah.” Molly shrugs. “Like, to be fair, I was in a city famous for runaways and gay homeless kids who got one-way tickets from their families, so if something awful happened to me, I was in good company.”

“I’m sorry, one-way tickets, I do not understand.”

“Like, if your shitty family finds out you’re gay, they give you a one-way ticket to a big city and tell you to never come back...” Molly nods at Caleb’s disgusted expression. “Yeah.”

“That is awful.” Caleb tries to imagine this. “My parents would never...”

“Yeah, mine maybe did.” Molly shrugs. “Or maybe they were great and died! Or, I don’t know.”

“What,” Caleb tries to digest this. “What is your first memory?”

“Like, a haze of a few days where I was lost and trying to find a familiar street, and then I gave up on that and begged, but that wasn’t getting me much money...” Molly peeks up, maybe gauging Caleb’s reaction so far. “Some, um, some working girls found me... wandering around lost, so they sort of adopted me.”

“--what?”

“They were like, ‘You’re a kid! It’s not safe out here!’ They yelled at me and told me I was a fucking idiot and I could get hurt and... and they took me to a Waffle House and bought me like all the food I could eat.” Molly sniffs. Caleb watches his face, the sad sort of calmness of it. “I stayed on one of their couches for a few weeks. I hung out with them a lot and one day they got busted and, um, and the cops thought I was, you know...”

“...also working?”

“Yeah.” Molly laughs. “I busked, sure. Other than that I was in their apartment. One of them had been making me watch educational tv to make up for the fact that I wasn’t going to school. Like... yeah.”

“Did you get arrested?”

“At first? Sort of? They couldn’t process me because I didn’t have any ID or anything, and the cops, um, were mostly human, it was one of the tiefling girls that finally convinced them I was a young kid, and they did some blood test and were like, ‘oh, shit, you’re a minor’, and then my case changed departments like seven times... finally most of the girls got out by giving up dealers’ names and I went into the foster system.”

Caleb frowns. “So your name is...”

“Made up.” Molly shrugs. “The girls called me ‘Empty Stomach’, and then just ‘Empty’, and that sort of sounded like ‘M.T.’, and so by the time the sting happened I was M.T. It’s sort of dumb.”

“It is not dumb.” Caleb turns his hand awkwardly under Molly’s, wrapping his fingers around Molly’s hand and squeezing it. “I like it a lot.”

Molly snorts and ducks his head a little further. Caleb doubles down, switching his left hand to hold Molly’s so he can reach out with his right hand, initiating a hug across the other boy’s shoulders.

“Do you ever remember more pieces? Or is it just... not there?”

“Just not there.” Molly pulls his hand free, standing up - but it’s only to pull his food to this side of the table, so he can resume eating without moving away. Caleb smiles. “My memory of things now is pretty normal. There’s just, you know, nothing before a certain time.”

Caleb ruminates over this for a while, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Do other people know?”

“Gustav knows. Yasha knows. Tova knows. Bosun and the twins don’t.”

Caleb nods. “I will not say.”

“It’s not bad, I’m not embarrassed, it’s just... weird.” Molly shrugs. “Like yours, I guess.” When Caleb laughs hollowly, Molly hesitates. “Yours... is bad?”

“Remember the ‘huge mistake?’”

Molly frowns. “That you texted about? It’s that? You did -  what the hell could you have done to make your family have to move?” He pales a little and goes quiet. “Did you kill somebody by accident?”

“What!? No.” Caleb slouches on the bench. “I... my friends, we liked computers, and... we thought we were, you know, big shots.” They were so stupid, Caleb thinks. They were kids. “We had, you know, a computer club at school, we would use proxies and do whatever we wanted... we got dark web browsers and decided we would take down one of the little empires on there. They sold, um, very awful videos. And we tricked them and got some information on some of ... of the people who made the videos, and leaked it to the police. They were busted. Nobody...”

“You were like internet super heroes?”

“No!” Caleb hits the table, making it reverberate. “We were idiots. We could have died. They were criminals and they did not care, and, and, and they, they did not all, they were not all there, they were all in different countries. So some were arrested, the rest were very mad... they traced us, they started calling our houses, watching us on security cameras, they wanted us to pay.”

“Holy shit.”

“We had to tell our parents what we did. Local police could not do anything, these men were in other countries, using spoof phone numbers, hiring...” Caleb buries his face in his arms and shakes.

“Caleb.” Molly’s hand is light between his shoulder blades. Caleb tries to take full breaths, but he can’t, so he just gasps for air as quietly as possible, over and over, until he feels an insistent swatting feeling on his thigh. When he moves his arms to see, it’s Molly’s tail, giving him the gentle little friendly smacks like during their lunches. In spite of himself, Caleb chokes out a brief laugh, and Molly tilts into him and covers his body with his.

“I do, I do not think I make much sense,” Caleb mumbles into Molly’s shirt.

“You tried to stop some shitty people and they tried to get back at you?”

“Yes.”

“And they wouldn’t stop and the cops wouldn’t help?”

“Yes.” Caleb hiccups. “They said they would poison my friend’s family. And burn my house down. They had plans for all three of us.”

Molly holds him tighter.

“I am sorry I am a big mess.” Caleb can feel the perspiration covering his skin getting Molly’s shirt damp. “I think maybe I am not good for dating.”

Molly is still for a moment, then tucks his head in carefully, pressing his lips to a spot on Caleb’s neck. “We’ll just have to keep trying until we’ve both run out of crazy fucking stories.”