#two of my dearly beloveds holding the record i love them so much

[kookjinnies]

and what if… stick with me here… what if we get….. a live with seokjin and jeongguk….. a jinkook live if you will

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[alphardblacks]

alphard black, the brightest of stars in the noble, ancient house of black — his story, in a post.

alphard was born in the may of 1927, in the month of springs last darling, marking hope for the winters end, to pollux and irma black. he had an elder sister, walburga, and a younger brother, cygnus. he was sorted into slytherin house in the september of 1938, with tom riddle.

on the way to hogwarts, he befriended the said young tom riddle. he was quiet and silent, and he seemed unfamiliar with the ways of the wizarding world. it was alphard who educated tom on the great wizarding families - something his parents had instilled in him from a young age.

it didn't take long for the young alphard to find his way. with his elder sister in the year above at school, he did his best to maintain his image. however, he soon shed it to play for slytherin in the quidditch team. his tastes were more active than academic.

one of the acquaintances he kept throughout hogwarts was tom riddle. as the boys became older, they became closer. he told tom of the history of the wizarding world, and the noble families, though he himself had no care for the subjects the strange boy wanted to explore so much.

when tom attends a quidditch match begrudgingly, he sees alphard in a new light. he's fascinated in ways men usually were not fascinated with each other - he had never known an emotion like it. it seemed as though alphard felt the same, but they kept it secret.

alphard finds that by his final year at hogwarts, he has fallen deeply for tom. and tom realises that being with alphard is the closest he would ever feel to experiencing love. alphard didn't worship tom the way the others did. they were equals. but alas; they could never be.

but toms heart grew darker and his ideas for the future became too much for alphard to bear. each day he was less of the man he loved. alphard confronts tom about this, and in a rage, tom tells him they can never be together regardless, because of society, so he will not change.

alphard leaves hogwarts to take part in the war effort, to distance himself from the wizarding world that tom was infiltrating and slowly disrupting. whilst the other soldiers discussed their future wives and children, he could only think of the life he would never have with tom.

alphard was involved in a battle that left him injured, and news spread to his family that he was dead, including tom riddle. this loss is what makes tom snap, and his spree of killings worsen. by the time alphard recovers, the pain of what tom has done is too much to bear.

when he returns, and despite his family's wishes, alphard never marries. he could never live a lie with a woman and could never live in happiness with a man. he never has children but adores his nephews and nieces - particularly sirius and regulus.

living with the blacks was terrible for sirius and regulus, and if it hadn't been for uncle alphard, they would live their lives in uncomfortable solitude, with suppressed personalities in order to be deemed "proper". with alphard, they were free, and for the first time, happy.

walburga detested her boys being around what she deemed "muggle activities". alphard, being in the war, had picked up much of these, and showed them to his nephews. the nephews would visit him over summer and inspect his medals, whilst he told the in awe pair his war stories.

a core memory for the boys was alphard taking them to muggle london; buying sirius his first record from a stall, showing regulus muggle books like treasure island. he takes them to see movies, and the boys were too giddy to stay silent, though had to remain proper at home.

often, he would find the boys in their room at his estate, battling with sticks and pretending to be "spartacus". regulus particularly enjoyed their re-enactments of "a hard days night", where he would play ringo and pretend to drum for hours.

and as a young child, little regulus had been inspecting alphards hogwarts memories when he smashed a photo of him, and a young man, side by side. of course, as he always did, sirius told him to run upstairs, often taking the blame to spare his little brother from the rod.

fear filled sirius' heart, thinking of his punishment when alphard has turned the corner to inspect what happened. "i'm sorry uncle alphard!" he blurted out, too used to his mother and fathers cruel ways, and their punishments.

however, the emotion on alphards face was not anger, but worry. "did you hurt yourself? there's glass everywhere ..." for the first time sirius had experienced, alphard looked at him with a smile, and ruffled his hair. "don't be sorry, my boy. it's easily fixed."

tears filled the child's eyes, and he hugged the man tightly; he had never heard those words before. he had never hugged anyone before. his uncle embraced him tightly, protectively, and sirius knew that he would never be unloved so long as he had his uncle.

when sirius was sorted into gryffindor, he was full of terror. but his monthly letters from uncle alphard were full of encouragement; encouragement that made him accept his difference to his family. he questioned his family and their beliefs.

but when sirius matures more, he starts noticing that his feelings for his friend remus were changing. not friendship - something more. something strange. he knew that even the muggles didn't accept this sort of thing. he was broken, just like the picture. what would he do?

he and the marauders had snuck firewhiskey from a teachers office and in the heat of the moment, he kisses remus. he's in shock when moony kisses him back. when the firewhiskey wears off, he feels mortified that he would do such a thing. his family would hate him.

he's utterly terrified. one summer break, he lets it slip accidentally to alphard. he knows that this would be the end of his happiness with his uncle, and he would be sent away. his uncle merely smiled, and told him he couldn't be fixed.

because just like him, he wasn't broken.

and with this, sirius has fully bloomed into his true self. no longer does he sit and let slytherins talk ill of muglgeborns. he challenges his family. he challenges his mother. he becomes everything that alphard is proud of, and walburga detests.

when sirius is kicked out, alphard welcomes him with open offers and arms, though his nephew had flew the best and grown up; going to james instead. dear little regulus, on the other hand, is distant and colder, and alphard worries deeply for his dear nephew.

due to sirius' boisterous nature, his mother worsens her destructive attitude on regulus. he falls in with difficult crowds. no longer is he duelling as spartacus, but learning curses. the only drumming beat was his terrified heart when he was first recruited.

tom riddle is still a looming threat, and alphard knows it. he's still believed to be dead and he doesn't want to reach out. when sirius joins the order, he supports his nephew - they're the only hope. he would rather see tom destroyed than the evil man he had once loved.

despite all this, alphard still holds deep feelings for his former lover. deep feelings he could never let go of. as if he clung to the hope that tom could change.

until, during dinner, one night, he sees a dark mark on his little nephews arm that makes his blood run cold.

alphard and his pleading with regulus to get away from tom is the final push for the boy. he implores regulus to choose a better path, he is not a bad person, and he is not a death eater. this is what drives regulus and his sacrifice for the locket. uncle alphard was never wrong.

alphard blames himself for the loss of regulus. his little nephew; the baby boy he once held when walburga detested the sight of her 'sickly' little baby. he's a broken man. the beloved boy he had once loved like his own son was no more. because he couldn't protect him.

meanwhile, peter tells voldemort of his plans to betray the potters. that sirius would be perfectly set up, and even his uncle couldn't support his case. voldemort freezes when he hears the name; the name he hadn't heard since he went by "tom". alphard was alive.

for a moment, peter sees something flicker in toms eyes. even bellatrix notices the beat in the conversation. all those years he had grieved for alphard in the most wicked way. rage consumed him. he would destroy the potters, and the wretched black nephew alphard loved so dearly.

the broken alphard sits, in solitude; writing his will and leaving his fortune to young sirius, in the hopes that the fight would continue on. he knew he was destined to end this way. no happy ending. he pays one final visit to a former friend.

his former lover.

"all those years wasted, fighting opposite sides - and here we are, having precious few moments back. we could've ruled together, the two of us. i wanted you by my side.

goodbye, old friend."

if you've made it this far, thank you for reading my rambling headcanon on alphard black. three cheers for the best uncle in the world, and remember to stan tomphard.

(thread credit: narcissariddles on twitter)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hibiki and Kanade reacting to their s/o accidentally killing the other twin? Thank you!

THANK YOU for allowing me to get my ch3 feels out with this :))))))))

...........

Hibiki

"Well, you all certainly knocked this one out of the park. But you’re correct, the one who killed Kanade Otonokoji is [y/n]!” Monocrow declared.

“On accident, of course..” You added, sighing in slight relief as the dreaded voting finally ended. It was all over after what seemed like an eternity of twists and turns. “But...I-”

“But what?!! Y-You still didn’t answer me!!!”

You looked over, your heart breaking as you saw Hibiki sobbing at her podium. “Hibiki..” 

“If..y-you knew Kanade was gonna m-make me kill Setsuka from th-the start....then...then w-why didn’t you talk any sense into her?!!” She shouted, tears pouring down her face. “You’re always the peacekeeper! You n-never think violence is the answer-!”

“Maybe...[y/n]’s habit of being the peacekeeper was all an act...” Yuki muttered solemnly. “...an act to cover up their identity as a-”

“Sorry, but..I’m not with Void at all.”

“..huh?” The lucky student blinked.

“I'm sure it’d be easier for everyone if that was the case. But..I think I’d rather let this recording speak for itself..” You took a device out of your pocket, holding it up for everyone to see before pressing the play button.

The recording contained a conversation between you and Kanade, where you did in fact try talking her out of committing a murder after witnessing her drug Iroha’s coffee. But after you mentioned your girlfriend’s name, her tone of voice changed to something much more...sinister.

It revealed her deep, dark obsession with her sister--and how you and Setsuka were just “getting in the way” like “everyone else” in Hibiki’s life. Then she let out this evil, insane laugh as she attacked you.

You stopped the recording abruptly, though every listener seemed to be unnerved by the contents--especially Hibiki, who never saw this side of her sister until now.

Even more unsettling was the “everyone else” Kanade mentioned, implying this wasn’t her first attempted murder plot. 

Your testimony was further solidified when you asked Monocrow to show Hibiki’s unfinished video instead of yours, having a hunch that the final piece would help her understand your motivations more clearly.

He complied--and all she could do was scream in horror at the fate of her parents: being slaughtered by the hands of none other than her twin sister.

“Damn it...” You closed your eyes and looked away from the screen. “But you see now? This is the truth: I didn’t kill for Void, nor my motive video. Kanade was planning a murder with two culprits, herself and Hibiki. Even if they won, I doubt she would’ve stopped her murderous spree. Someone like that around is just too dangerous-”

However you were cut off when you felt someone run into you, nearly knocking you off your feet. At first you thought Hibiki was attacking you, but instead you looked down to see her bawling into your chest. “Biki..?” You hugged her tightly.

“Y-You..did all of that to save me...b-but..I don’t want you to go!!! Don’t leave me here!!” She wailed hysterically.

“I don’t wanna leave you either, sweetheart..but..it’ll be okay..” You smiled despite the tears in your eyes, happy to know that she was finally free from her sister’s torment. “Suka will take care of you, alright?”

“Y-Yeah..” The billiards player managed to choke out, trying not to cry herself. “I made them a promise.”

Monocrow’s patience was wearing thin, as he announced it was time for your execution. 

But you weren’t even afraid of that anymore--you didn’t care about it during your last few moments with your beloved vocalist.

As long as she lived on...that’s all that matters.

...........

Kanade

“Hah...ahahaha..I knew it was you from the start.”

“Huh?” Letting go of the lever after the vote was done, you stared at Kanade in confusion. “Y-You knew? But..aren’t you angry with me? I-It was a complete accident-”

“I know. It was a shock to see sis’s corpse there on display, at first. But the despair etched into her frozen expression.......is just so adorable~!! AHAHAHA~!!” She began laughing hysterically, holding her face. “I just couldn’t look away~! I can only imagine what she must’ve felt in her final moments~!”

You were horrified--this wasn’t how you expected her to react at all.

“G-Get a grip on yer girlfriend, [y/n]!” Teruya stammered. “She’s gone off the rails!”

“I..I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” You shook your head, frowning at the guitarist. “Kanade, don’t you understand? I accidentally killed your sister..the only family you have..she’s not coming back.”

“I told you I already know!!” Suddenly her mood shifted into a frightening scowl, though she sighed and approached you, her voice calm. “But I know deep down, you were probably thinking that if Hibiki was gone...then you’d have me allllll to yourself~”

“N-No..that’s not what-”

“Fufu..you’re so funny, [y/n]~ It’s okay, though. I know that feeling all-too-well....the desire to eliminate any “competition”. Seems some of my personality has rubbed off on you..so I’m not even mad.”

“Don’t..you dare fucking compare us! I’m nothing like you.” Gritting your teeth, you tried to bite back tears. “I thought I dated a sweet guitarist who was done with all the bullshit she did years ago!!! You promised me you'd stop!!"

“What?” Sora blinked in confusion. “[Y/n]..what has Kanade done in the past?”

You were about to explain, but Kanade decided to speak up and tell everyone all about her evil deeds--ones she committed for her sister who she dearly loved. She even confessed to wanting to carry out her own murder plots against people who’ve been close to either you or her sister..

That is...until you accidentally killed Hibiki while trying to snap her out of her hysterical state after the motive videos came out.

As expected, everyone was mortified--and understandably outraged--that you knew what Kanade was truly like, yet you’ve kept silent about it. 

But you insisted that you always believed in giving others second chances...no matter what heinous acts they’ve done.

Though it seems your time was up as Monocrow announced your punishment.

But as you turned to him, not wanting to look Kanade in the eyes anymore, you were confused as to why your classmates were frantically shouting--

Until you felt a knife pierce your back.

“Wh-What...?”

As the weapon was ripped out of you, you collapsed to the ground, finding yourself in the arms of your girlfriend--who held a malicious grin, tears streaking down her face and small hearts in her wide eyes. 

“K-Kanade...why-?” You coughed. “Y-You-”

“With you and big sis gone...life’s not worth living anymore.” She sighed, stroking your cheek with a bloodstained hand before kissing you. “So I want this last moment to be full of despair~! Let that dumb crow do what he wants to me...either way we’re together to the end. Isn’t that what you promised~?”

Indeed, she got what she wanted in the end: the despair of betrayal in your eyes as you died on her terms, not Monocrow’s. She was still laughing even when being dragged to her execution--up until her last dying breath.

Now you, her, and Big Sis would be together forever.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 77: Three

The ending is in no way significant of anything at all. Definitely.

First  Previous  Next

Lance comes back in from the gardens with a frosty-furred, very happy wolf cub. Their quarters are still dark, lit only by the crackling fire. “Okay, go find Keith! Come on.”

The cub yawns, walks slow and tired over to the nightstand sniffing Keith’s ignored breakfast curiously. After a varga of play in the frost, Lance is surprised the cub’s got that much left in him.

“Beloved?” Lance gazes at Keith’s curled up form, burrowed into the blankets of their bed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” It’s not convincing. “I’m just nauseous.”

Keith’s nausea has gotten a lot worse in the last two movements. He’s been skipping breakfast on the regular, and now sometimes lunch. It’s worrying them both that he’s not getting enough nutrients.

Lance frowns, runs fingers through Keith’s hair. “You can tell me if something’s wrong. I can help.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m just not myself today.”

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Just go to breakfast, okay? I’ll be fine... But maybe come visit me later?”

“Of course. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”  That at least earns Lance a small smile. He’ll take it. “What are your plans for this afternoon? Lay here and be sick?”

“Mhm. Maybe play with Wolfy and Bleeps a little bit. Try not to freeze to death.”

“Use your cloak. And mine if you want it.” Lance bends down to kiss his temple. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you so much too- Ugh.” Keith curls tighter around his unhappy insides. “I love you as much as I hate nausea.”

“Trash can’s right here if you need to barf; I’ll send food for you if you want it; I’ll come check on you as soon as I can.” With a kiss to Keith’s cheek, Lance leaves their quarters, hoping he’s not too late to breakfast.

In the dining hall, Lance takes his place, picking food off of platters as servants bring them over to him. As he digs into some flowers with honey, he can’t help but notice his father’s keen eye.

“It’s nice of one of you to join us,” Alfor murmurs. Next to him, Coran rolls his eyes, but says nothing. “Where is Keith?”

“Not feeling well. He’ll eat when he’s hungry.”

Alfor’s ice-blue eyes narrow. “I see. Did he contract something on Daibazaal?”

Lance slows his chewing rate, appearing thoughtful. “Possibly. He wasn’t examined very thoroughly when we returned, and Tavo only gave him two injections. I assume it’s because he’s Galra, so there are fewer concerns.”

“Really?” Coran finds an actual reason to cut in. “Perhaps you should talk to him about a more thorough exam?”

“If Keith has any concerns, he will consult Tavo or his own physician back on Daibazaal. I don’t need to do that for him.” Lance shoves a frost lily into his mouth, licking the sweet floral nectar from his lips. “I have a lot to do today. There’s legislature regarding our colonies that needs to be updated, and I need to have new machinery sent to Arus, which requires a completely unnecessary amount of paperwork.”

“If that’s your way of asking to be excused, you may go,” Alfor murmurs, gaze searing into his son. Lance has gotten pretty good at lying lately. But not good enough.

“Thank you.” Lance wipes his mouth, sips his water, flies from his seat.

“And do tell Keith I hope he starts feeling better soon.”

Lance’s hesitating footsteps tell Alfor everything he needs to know. He tucks into his own breakfast, not looking at his husband.

“Dear… Don’t you do it.”

“Do what?” Alfor whines. “I haven’t even done anything!”

“Ah, but you were thinking about it!” Coran’s dark eyes glint with amusement. “Remember what we were talking about? About minding your own business?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing.”

“...But I want him to know that we will be here for him if he needs us?” Alfor asks, hopeful. Trying.

Coran nods slowly, considering that. “Yes, alright.”

“What, really?” Alfor almost never wins when versus his husband.

“Yes. I think he’d appreciate knowing you want to be there for him. And me of course, but I have to speak with Admiral Sonne on Arus to see what the quiznak is going on. If Lance is this stressed about it, I might have to hop over and knock a few heads together.”

“I hate it when you travel,” Alfor sighs, rising from the table, grunting at the pain in his knees as he straightens his legs. Coran follows suit.

“I know, but it would only be for a few quintants. Maybe a movement or two.”

“That’s so long,” Alfor bemoans.

Coran kisses him, sweet and familiar. “You’ll live, my darling. You always do.”

“Well... If you have to go, I guess you have to go.” Alfor tips forward to rest his head on Coran’s shoulder. Their arms wind into an embrace. “We have some fantastic kids, don’t we?”

“I’m astounded every day.” Coran draws back. “I’d best go contact Arus. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Alfor kisses Coran’s cheek, lets him go. His lips fall into a frown, deepening with every tap of his footsteps as he winds his way through the castle.

Lance jiggles his foot, heaves a sigh as he tries yet again to finish his draft. He’s preoccupied, worried about Keith. Aside from persistent morning sickness, he hasn’t been himself the last few quintants. Subdued, quiet- He’s begun isolating himself again, like he did last time he arrived from Daibazaal-

“Lancel.”

Lance looks up, rising from his chair. “Father. Can I do something for you?”

Alfor waves his hand, dismissing formality, and takes a seat by his son. “I want to talk to you about Keith. And what you’ve decided not to tell me.”

Lance’s hand freezes, releases the stylus. He turns to his father. “I beg your pardon?”

“Keith. And his pregnancy.” In hindsight, Alfor would realize that he could have used a bit more tact.

“What about it?”

“You hid this from me. Without any regard of what it might mean or how it might shift our priorities.”

“You haven’t exactly proven yourself to be trusted with the lives of children,” Lance bites, not missing a beat for even a second.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“That my husband is afraid of you, and what you’ll do to our children!”

Alfor licks his lips, a trait he’s passed to his son. “I regret what I have done to Keith. His fear is understandable. I would apologize, but I don’t think it would mean anything.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Still, I am happy for you. I understand the joy of becoming a father-”

“Father, you didn’t even want children!”

“How can you say that?-”

“Because you waited!” Lance snaps. “You waited until you and Mom absolutely had to have us! I’m not stupid!”

"Watch your mouth!" Alfor barks. "Don't you dare disrespect your mother like that. Or me."

Lance closes his mouth with a snap, shaken by his father's sudden anger.

“Lance, we-” Alfor runs a withering hand through his shaggy hair. “We waited to have you kids because I’m fucking gay! Not because we didn’t want you. I loved your mother, dearly, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to father children with her. And, for the record, it wasn’t easy for her, either.”

Lance averts his gaze, sheepish. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I put my hands on your mother, not loving her or wanting her. And she knew it. And she didn’t want it either. But that is the way it is done. So no one can question it, no one can doubt your blood. We did that, to each other, for you . And your sister. So don’t you so much as insinuate that we did not want you. Understand?”

Lance gulps, nods. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Sometimes, Lance still feels like a boy. It’s rare that Alfor’s ire is so well-deserved, and it’s been a long time since Lance has been on the receiving end. He waits to see if his father is finished.

“Now, I wanted to talk to you because we now find ourselves in a potentially difficult situation. Keith’s health is far from perfect. Add to that the burdens of a fetus and the current political climate, what we have uncovered- we need to think very carefully about how to protect you and your family.”

Lance nods, sits back in his chair. “What about you and dad?”

“Not important. You, Keith, and this child are our future. The lynchpin that holds this society together. Were something to happen to you, it’s unlikely our people could recover. But you know that.”

Lance gulps, forces himself to meet his father’s gaze. “Am I- Am I a bad person? All this stuff is happening and-”

“No. Oh, Lance-” Alfor takes his hand, squeezes it tight. “Lance, you are not a bad anything. The truth is, there’s never a good time to start a family, or have a child. The Galra are not the only people who hold a grudge against us, and tragedies and freak accidents happen every day. Why, as we speak, our ships are shifting an asteroid away from our planet so we aren’t destroyed in a collision.

“Let me ask you something. Did you want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Did Keith want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Then this baby will be far luckier than some, just for that. And from what I’ve seen of you, and seen of Keith, and seen of you both together… This child will be blessed indeed. Far better off than you were.”

“You think so?” Lance asks, eyes stinging.

“I know so.” Alfor smiles, squeezing the hand still in his grip before releasing it. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandfather twice.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be a grandfather at least four times,” Lance laughs, sniffling a little, but willing to be happy with his father now that the tension is over.

“Mnh. I know you must do your duty to Daibazaal. So perhaps I’ll be a grandfather more times than that. Your sister doesn’t want more than two children. It may give you and Keith an opportunity to indulge in a larger family, should you so desire.”

“We do currently. I’m curious to see how Keith will feel after baby number one.”

“Very true. Child-bearing is some freaky shit.”

“Seriously. I don’t envy him. I need to get back to him.” Lance sighs. “But right now I need to finish this draft. I never know how to finish off these missives.”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. Summarize what you need done, how you want it done, why it’s important. Three sentences. Then say something encouraging. And then say, ‘Many thanks, Crown Prince Lancel.’ Simple as that. Wash, rinse, repeat until your paperwork is done.”

“That’s… actually pretty useful. Thanks.” Lance finishes typing, sending it along to Adam to look over before it’s passed along to their Admiral on Arus. “I still have all this…” Lance scrolls demonstratively through his list of tasks. “To complete before thaw, but I need to get back to Keith. He’s not himself today. In a different way than normal.”

“What actually needs to be done with it?”

“It’s all crusty, outdated, discriminatory, no longer applicable, or otherwise in need of a rewrite.”

“Why don’t I get started on it and you and Adam can look over it when it’s done?”

Lance hesitates a moment, tapping his stylus on the table. He’s reluctant to entrust policy to anyone else, even Keith, but he has more than one responsibility now. Alfor can do this paperwork. He can't be a husband to Keith. He nods. “Send them to Adam and myself directly. I’ll let him know to expect it.” Lance stacks his tablets carefully on the table for someone to put away for him later. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man, Lance.” Alfor rises with his son, smile deeply fond.

“Keith says the same thing.”

“He’s a remarkably smart young man. Now, go take care of your house.” Alfor kisses the top of his son’s head. “I’ll send dinner to your quarters if you don’t show up.”

“Thanks. I love you, Father.”

“I love you, too.”

And he actually believes it.

Keith’s not in their quarters. Yet, strangely,  Wolfy and BleepBloop are, Wolfy by the garden doors, BleepBloop glaring at the cub from the loft ladder. Has Keith actually gone outside?

Lance goes to pull his cloak from the closet, and notices that Keith’s is still hanging there. Cursing, he hurries to fasten the heavy fabric under his chin. He should give it a minute to warm up to his body temperature, but with Keith potentially out in the cold, he doesn’t want to wait. He’ll just have to hope it’s good enough.

On his way out, he snatches up Keith’s cloak.

The good thing about the frost is that he can see a set of footprints. The bad news is that those footprints are fading quickly as the frost creeps back up into the frozen moss. Speeding along, Lance squeezes through the gap in the garden wall, following the tracks into the forest. They’re getting a bit more clear, the dulled colors of the mossy forest floor showing through more clearly.

It dawns on Lance quite suddenly where he’s going, and he breaks into a run.

Panting, breath pluming, he skids to a halt outside the grotto where he learned to swim. His foot slips on an icy patch of frost, and he scrambles for a second before his hip hits the frozen ground.

Ouch.

Whatever.

Inside, Keith’s curled up on the icy pond, bundled in an enormous swathe of black fabric. The only thing Lance can see is a mess of long, black hair tumbling over the ice.

“Beloved?” The bundle twitches, curls tighter. “Beloved are you alright? Are you sick? Are you hurt?” A head shake.

Lance creeps over the frosty ground, sitting down next to his husband, throwing the red cloak over his form. Lance gently reaches out to Keith, brushing up against him, feeling what he feels-

A well of homesickness, deep, hollow, aching. Whimpering, Lance curls around his husband, hurting with him but refusing to let him go despite hot tears dripping down the side of his face.

“You know, I-” Lance gulps. “I know how you feel. A little. Remember that night at Thace and Ulaz’ place? I feel like- like I met myself that night. Like for those few vargas, I knew who I was, and I liked that person. But now… There’s no place for that person here. Here, I’m Crown Prince Lancel, and there I was Lance, and there’s no room for Lance here.

“It’s like I lost a piece of me. And lost a piece of us.”

A deep sigh, and Keith rolls over, cuddling closer in Lance’s arms. “I see him every now and then.” The man dredges up a sad smile, lays a hand to Lance’s cheek, brushes his thumb over red-tinted scales. “He’s never really gone.” A long silence, tender companionship. “I’m sorry.”

“You scared me a little bit.”

“Everything is dead here. And it’s all so quiet. Lying there by myself… All I could do was wish you were there with me. Like when we went home, and you were there all day, every day. I guess I got used to it.

“And I miss the red earth, and the afternoon heat, and the moons. I miss them so much. I-” Keith breaks off on a chirp.

“Hey, hey.” Lance pulls Keith closer, strokes his hair. “You’ll see it again, beloved. We’ll go together.”

It’s a few minutes before either speaks again, preferring instead the comfort of touch.

“Sorry, I think I’m just having a mood swing.”

“Your feelings aren’t invalid just because you’re having a mood swing.” Lance kisses his husband’s forehead. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Yes, I'm very cold."

Lance rises first, helps Keith to his feet. "I'm going to come up with a better plan for keeping you company. You're being neglected, and you haven't had anything to do lately."

"You know I can advocate for myself, right?"

"You can, but you don't."

"Right." Keith doesn't argue. He even sounds a little guilty. Lance counts it as a win.

“Where did you get that ridiculously huge cloak?”

“It was Shiro’s,” Keith murmurs. “He gave it to me as a gift when he found me. I didn’t have any clothes, so he gave it to me to cover myself with and help me stay warm. It was the first thing anyone gave me in all that time. The first kindness I’d seen.”

“And you left it behind,” Lance concludes. He knows by now that everything Keith brought with him -himself, his blade, and the clothes on his back- were taken from him upon his arrival. They never found his original clothes.

“Yeah. But now I have it again!” Keith grins. “ I was thinking, since it’s so big, we could use some of it to make a blanket for the little one?”

“Aww, Ke-eith! That’s so sweet!”

Keith hums, pleased by his mate’s enthusiasm. “The Galra used to have this philosophy that kindness doesn’t go back around, but forward. If someone does something kind for you, you’re meant to pay kindness to someone else.”

“I like that,” Lance whispers, swinging their hands back and forth between them. “You know, my father has discovered us. He’s… happy for us. I mean actually for us . Out of all the scenarios I imagined, that wasn’t one of them.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along better.” It’s a white lie, one Lance appreciates.

“He seems… excited. Like he’s really looking forward to being a grandfather. I’m really looking forward to getting to know my father, and watching him grow.”

Keith smiles. “You’ve been waiting a long time to have a relationship with Alfor, huh?”

“So long,” Lance breathes. “Obviously, I’d never allow him to do anything to endanger our child, but I really, really hope I never have to face that.”

Keith leans over to bump their shoulders together. “I hope so too.” He smiles. “You’re going to be an awesome father. I hope he gets to see that.”

“Thanks, beloved.”

The winter's silence falls around them, but it's not quite so crushing, so lonely anymore. There's two sets of footsteps, the warmth of a second body.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“I actually do miss Daibazaal. And how we were when we were there.”

“Me too. We’ll go again. As soon as we can.” Lance throws his arm around Keith’s shoulders after the squeeze back through the garden wall. “After all, little one’s gonna have to see where their daddy came from, right?”

“Definitely. I want them to be proud of what they are, Lance.”

“Absolutely. Hybrid children are the future. And we get to create that. It’s gonna be beautiful. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to share it with you,” Keith whispers, gazing at his smiling mate.

It’s time for the turning of the age.

[fourteenaway]

A Tragic Prologue | The Story of Cary / Part I

tw: abuse, rape, domestic violence, infidelity, pregnancy. 

Exactly five years and three months had passed since Caren had married Leeland, and it’d taken that long for them to finally have something that resembled a real vacation. Five years and three months and still she often felt as if Leeland was a stranger to her.

Madame Ephron had been the one to suggest that they take a break, go to Barcelona, they deserved it. Or rather she thought perhaps that Leeland needed it to get back in true form.

It was here that Daniel’s graduation invitation from med-school finally found her in a little villa they’d taken up in for the weeks they’d be here. She knew it instantly when she spotted the thick envelope, her heart jumping at the announcement of Daniel’s achievement of his medical degree. How proud she felt knowing he’d done it, completed college and then medical school in seven years what took most at least eight.

When she opened it she found not only a formal announcement but a note from Daniel, written in his handwriting that was far better than any other doctors unreadable scrawl:

Dear Caren,

I am embarrassed to tell you this, but I am the top graduate in a class of two hundred. So don't you dare try and find an excuse to keep away. You have to be there to bask in the glow of my excitement, as I bask in the radiance of your admiration. I cannot possibly accept my M.D. if you aren't there to see. And you can tell Leeland this when he tries to prevent your coming.

Your dearest,

Daniel

Caren smiled glowing from cheek to cheek at his excitement and good humor. The only bothersome thing about this was that she and Leeland had signed a contract some time ago to tape a TV production of Giselle. It was set for June, but now in May, they wanted them both. Both of them were sure the television exposure would make them the stars they'd strived so long to be.

It had seemed a perfect time to approach Leeland with the news. They’d returned to their villa after touring old castles. So as soon as their evening meal was over and the pair had sat out on the terrace sipping glasses of a red wine, she knew he was nuts about, but gave her a headache. Only then did she dare to timidly approach going back to the States in time fo Daniel’s May graduation. 

“Really, we do have the time to fly there and be back in plenty of time to go into rehearsal for Giselle," she tried.

"Oh, come off it, Caren!” Leeland said impatiently. “It's a difficult role for you, and you'll be tired, and you'll need to rest up."

“Two weeks was plenty of time ... and a TV taping doesn’t take too long. Please, darling, let's go. I'd be sick not to see Daniel become a doctor, just as you'd be if your friend was reaching the goal he'd strived for year after year,” Caren tried again.

"Hell, no!" Leeland flared, narrowing his dark eyes and shooting sparks her way. “I get so damned sick and tired of hearing Daniel this, and Daniel that, and if it isn't his name you drum in my ears, then it's his brother, William this and that! You are not going!"

Caren pleaded with him to be reasonable, “He's only like a brother to me,” she lied slightly, “it just means his graduation day is nearly as important to me as it is to him. You can't understand how much this means not only to him, but to me as well! You think he and I lived lives of luxury compared to yours, just because we were adopted by the Derricks, but you can rest assured, it was no picnic!"

"Your past is something you don't talk about to me," he snapped back. “It's exactly as if you were born the day you found your precious Dr. William! Caren, you are my wife now, and your place is with me. Your William has Cassidy, and they'll be there, so Daniel won't lack applause when he gets that damned M.D.!"

"You can't tell me what I can do and what I can't do! I'm your wife, not your slave!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, standing and seizing hold of my arm. "C'mon, let's hit the sack. I'm tired.” 

Without speaking Caren allowed him to tug her into the bedroom where she began to undress. But he came over to help, and in this way she was informed it was to be a night of love, or rather sex. 

But she shoved his hands away.

Scowling, he put them back on her shoulders and leaned to nibble on her neck; he fondled her breasts before he reached to unhook her bra. Caren hissed and slapped his hands away, before screaming, “No!”

But he persisted in taking off her bra, finding it as easy as a mask to take off, he threw away his anger and put on his dreamy-eyed romantic look.

Caren supposed there had been a time when Leeland had appeared to her the epitome of everything sophisticated, worldly, elegant, but compared to the way he was now, since his father's death, he'd been only a country-bumpkin. 

There were times she actually detested him. This was such a time. 

"I am going, Leeland You may come with me, or you may meet me in New York after I fly back from the graduation ceremony. Or you can stay on here and sulk. Whatever, I am going. I want you to come with me and share in the family celebration, for you never share in anything-you hold me back, so I don't share either-but this time you can't stop me! It's too important!" Caren told him sternly.

Quietly he listened and he smiled in a way that sent chills down her spine. Oh, how wicked he could look.

“Hear this, beloved wife, when you married me, I became your ruler, and by my side you will stay until I kick you out. And I'm not yet ready to do that. You are not leaving me alone in Spain when I don't speak Spanish. Maybe you can learn from records, but I can't,” he spoke coldly.

"Don't threaten me, Leeland,” Caren said coolly, though she backed off and felt a terrible pounding of panic. “Without me you don't have anyone who cares, except your mother, and since you don't care for her, who have you got left?"

Lightly he reached out to slap both her cheeks. She closed her eyes, resigned to accept anything he did, as long as she could go to Daniel. She allowed him to undress her and do what he would, even though he clutched her buttocks so hard they hurt. For she could, when she chose, withdraw until she was outside of herself, looking on, and what he did to me So that what was appalling didn't really matter-for she wasn't truthfully there-unless the pain was great-as sometimes it was. 

“Don't try and sneak away," he warned, his words muffled because he was kissing everywhere, teasing her like a cat who plays with a mouse when it's not hungry. "Swear on your word of honor that you will stay and miss your dearly beloved Daniel’s graduation and stay with husband who needs you, who adores you, who can't live without you," he demanded.

She knew he was mocking her, though his need for her was that of a child needing his mother. For that was what she had become. His mother, in everything but sex. She had to choose his suits, his socks and shirts, his costumes, his practice outfits, though he consistently refused to let her handle the household accounts.

"I will not swear to anything so unfair. Daniel has come to see you perform and you have gloried in showing off to him. Now let him have his turn. He's worked hard for it," she insisted.

Caren pulled free from him then, and strolled to pick up a black lace nightgown he liked her to wear even though she hated black nightgowns and underwear. They reminded her of whores and call girls but also her mother who'd had a fancy for black lingerie. 

"Get up off your knees, Leeland. You look ludicrous. You can't do anything to me if I choose to go. A bruise would show, and besides, you've grown so accustomed to my weight and balance you can't even lift another dancer properly,” she spoke chillingly though she thought, truthfully.

He came at her angrily then, shouting, "You're mad because we haven't made it to the top, aren't you? You're blaming me because our booking was canceled. And now Madame Ephron has given us a leave so I can sober up and come back refreshed, made wholesome by playing games with my wife. Caren, I don't know how to entertain myself except by dancing; I'm not interested in books or museums like you are, and there are ways of hurting and humiliating you that won't leave any bruises-except on your ego-and you should know that by now."

Foolishly she smiled, when she should have known better than to challenge him when he was feeling less than confident. “What's the matter, Lee? Didn't your sex break satisfy your lust for perversion? Why don't you go out and find a schoolgirl, for I'm not going to cooperate." 

She'd never before thrown in his face that I knew about his debaucheries with younger women. 

It had hurt at first when she found out, but now she knew he used those girls like he used paper napkins, to casually toss away when soiled, and back he'd come to her, to say he loved her, needed her, and she was the only one.

Slowly he advanced, using his pantherlike stalk that told her he would be ruthless, but still she held her head high, knowing she could escape by shutting off her mind, and he couldn't afford to hit her. 

He paused one foot away as she heard the clock on the nightstand ticking in the silence.

"Caren, you will do as I say if you know what's good for you," he warned.

He was cruel that night, evil and spiteful; forcing upon her what should only be given in love. He dared her to bite. And this time she wouldn't have just one black eye, but two, and maybe worse. 

“And I'll tell everybody you are sick. That your period has you so badly cramped you can't dance, so you won't skip out on me, or make any phone calls, for I'll bind you to the bed and hide your passport,” he told her as he took.

He grinned and slapped her face lightly when he finished before whispering, "Now, honey-chile, whatcha gonna do this time?” He asked reverting into the southern drawl he’d grown up on.

The next morning, smiling and himself again, Leeland sauntered naked to the breakfast table, and flung himself down, sprawled out his long, beautifully shaped legs and asked casually, "What's for breakfast?" 

He held out his arms so Caren could come and kiss his lips, which she did. She faked a smile and brushed a lock of dangling hair from his forehead, and poured his coffee, and then said, "Good morning, darling. Same old breakfast for you. Fried eggs and fried ham. I'm having a cheese omelet."

Assured by her tone that all was past he sighed, “"I'm sorry, Caren," he murmured. “Why do you try to bring out the worst in me? I only use those girls to spare you."

"If they don't mind, then I don't mind... but don't ever force me to do what I did last night. I'm very good at hating, Leeland. Just as good as you are at forcing. And at harboring revenge I'm an expert!" She warned him.

She slid onto his plate two fried eggs and two slices of ham. No toast and no butter. Both of them ate in silence. He sat across the checkered red and white tablecloth, closely shaven, clean and smelling of soap and shaving lotion. In his own dark and light exotic way he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

"Caren ... you haven't said you love me today," he said eventually.

"I love you, Leeland," she replied.

An hour after breakfast,and she was now madly searching every room to find her passport, while Leeland slept on the bed, where she'd dragged him from the kitchen after he fell asleep from all the sedatives she'd dumped in his coffee.

He wasn't nearly as good at hiding as she was at finding. Under the bed, and under the blue rug, she found her passport. Quickly she threw clothes into her suitcases. When she was packed, dressed and ready to go, she leaned above him and kissed him good-bye. 

He was breathing deep and regularly, and smiling slightly; perhaps the drugs were giving him pleasant dreams. Though she'd drugged him, she hesitated, wondering if she'd done the right thing. 

Shrugging off her indecision, she headed toward the garage. Yes, she did what she had to do. If he were awake now, he'd have buried himself into her side all through the day, with her passport in his pocket. Besides she'd left a note telling him where she was going.

When she arrived at the airport William was waiting for her and after hugging him briefly she asked, “Did Daniel get my message? He does know I'm coming right?"

"Oh, indeed. He was fretting through every moment, afraid Leeland would refuse to let you leave him, and knowing Leeland wouldn't come. Honestly, Caren, if you hadn't shown up, I don't think Daniel would accept his degree," he said with an appraising look in his eyes.

To sit beside William and Cassidy, and watch her Daniel stride down the aisle and up the steps to accept his diploma, and then stand behind the podium and make the valedictory speech, put tears in her eyes and a swelling happiness in her heart. 

He did it so beautifully she cried. William and Cassidy also had tears to shed. Even Caren’s success on stage couldn't compare to the pride she felt now. And Leeland, he should be here too, making himself a part of her family and not stubbornly resisting all the time.

When she looked back at the stage though, and saw Daniel up there, ready to step behind the podium though, it all slipped away. 

She didn't know how he managed to find her in the crowd, but somehow he did. Their gazes met and locked, and across all the heads of those who sat between them, they met in silent communication they always had and shared an overwhelming jubilation! For they'd done it! Both of them. Reached their goals; become what they'd set out to be when they were children. The dreams they’d shared to each other when they were both young and feeling unwanted and undeserving of the love the Derrick’s had both given them. And watching Daniel, Caren believed she could see his whole life.

She saw him swinging a bat when he was ten to smash a ball over the fence, only for him to run like mad to touch all bases in the quickest possible time, when he could have walked and made his home run. But that wasn't his way, to make it look too easy. 

She saw him that first day when she’d showed up on the Derrick’s doorstep only a few years after he had, scared and untrusting of everyone as she clutched her younger sister to her chest. She saw that encouraging smile on his face that gave her hope when there was none.

She saw him racing on his bike yards ahead of her, then slowing down deliberately so she could catch up and they'd both reach William’s office at the same time and then locking up the bike for her.

The ceremony ended with a huge luncheon planned by the university in celebration. At the table Cassidy babbled away, but Caren and Daniel could only stare at each other, each of them trying to find the right words to say.

Suddenly Daniel frowned and asked why Leeland hadn’t come.

"He wanted to come, Daniel, really he did," Caren lied, “But he has obligations that keep him so busy he couldn't spare the time. He asked me to give you his congratulations. We do have very tight schedules. Actually, I can only stay two days. We're going to do a TV production of Giselle next month," she reasoned to him.

When everyone had gone and they were back at William’s house, alone on the veranda Daniel sighed and said, “Caren, he didn't want you to come to my graduation, did he?”

Caren remained silent in her answer and Daniel shook his head and said, “He’s going to ruin your careers. I warned you not to let him be your manager. Madame Ephron would have treated you more fairly. She loves you." 

Caren began to pace the porch. Her original contract with Madame Ephron. had expired two years ago, and all she owed her now was twelve performances a year. The rest of the time, Leeland and her were freelance, and could dance with whichever company they liked. 

Now everything was falling apart.

Everything was made worse by the fact that she had made a secret trip to the gynecologist the day before. Two missed periods didn't really mean anything for a woman like her, who was so irregular. She might not be pregnant, she thought. It might be just another false alarm ... but something about this time felt different. 

If it wasn't a false alarm, she prayed she'd have the strength to go through with an abortion. She didn't need a baby in her life. For she knew once she had a child, he or she would become the center of her world, and love would again spoil a ballerina who could have been the best.

Ballet music was in her head when she drove Daniel's car to visit Leeland’s mother, Madame Milena one hot spring day when all the world seemed sleepy and lazy except for those poor children being instructed by a shrill little bat wearing black, as always. 

Caren sat in the shadows near the far wall of a huge auditorium and watched the large class of boys and girls dance. It was scary to think of how soon those girls would grow up to replace the stars of the present. Then she too would become another Madame Ephron and the years would flow like seconds, until she was Madame Milena, and all her beauty would be preserved only in old, faded photographs.

“Caren," called Madame Milena joyfully when she spied her. She came striding swiftly, gracefully her way. "Why do you sit in the shadows?" she asked. “How nice to see your lovely face again. And don't think I don't know why you look so sad! You're one big fool to leave Leeland! He's a big baby; you know he can't be left alone or he does things to hurt himself, and when he hurts himself, he hurts you too! Why did you let him get control of your management? Why did you let him burn up your money as fast as it hits your pockets? I tell you this, in your place, I would never, never have let him put another in my role of Giselle!"

‘God, what a blabbermouth he was!’ Caren thought.

"Don't worry about me, Madame," Caren said coolly, "if my husband doesn't want me for his partner anymore, I'm sure there will be others who will."

She scowled and advanced on her. She put those bony hands on her and shook Caren as if to wake her up. Up close, Caren could see she'd aged terribly since Leeland’s father had died. Her ebony hair was almost white now, and streaked with charcoal.

“You gonna let my son make a fool of you? You let him put another dancer in your place? I gave you credit for having more backbone! Now you hightail it back to New York and push that other girl out of his life! Marriage is sacred, and wedding vows are meant to be kept!" She insisted.

Then she softened and said, “Come now, Caren," and led her into her small cluttered office, “Now you tell me about this foolishness going on between you and your husband!"

"It is really none of your business!" Caren insisted.

She swung another straight chair to where she could straddle it. Leaning forward upon her arms, she stabbed Caren with her hard penetrating glare, “Anything, and everything concerning my son is my business!" She snapped. “Now you just sit there and keep quiet, and let me tell you what you don't know about your husband."

Her voice turned a little kinder, "I was older than his father when we were married, and even so I dared putting off having a child until I believed the best of my career was behind me, and then I became pregnant. Leeland’s father never wanted a child to hold him down, and back, and so, from the beginning Leeland had two strikes against him,” she tells Caren.

She looks down then and whispers, “I tell myself we didn't force the dance upon our son, but we did keep him with us, so the ballet became part of his world, the most important part.” 

She sighed heavily and wiped a bony hand over her troubled brow. "We were strict with him, I admit that. We did everything we could to make him what was perfect in our eyes, but the more we tried, the more determined he became to be everything we didn't want him to be. We tried to teach him perfect diction, so he ended up mocking us with all kinds of vulgar street language-gutter talk, his father called it. You know," she went on with a wistful expression, "only after my husband was dead and buried did I realize that he never spoke to our son unless it was an order not to do something, or an order to improve his dancing technique. I never realized that my husband could have been jealous of his own son, seeing that he was a better dancer and would achieve more fame. It wasn't easy for me to become only a ballet mistress, and for Georges to be only an instructor. Many a night we lay on our bed and held to each other, craving the applause, the adulation. ... It was a hunger that would not be satisfied until we heard the applause for our son."

Again she paused, and birdlike craned her neck to peer at Caren and see if she was paying full attention.

Oh, yes, she had her attention. She was telling her so much she needed to know.

"Leeland tried to hurt his father, and my husband got hurt because Leeland made light of his father's reputation. One day he called him only a second-class performer. My husband didn't speak to his own son for a whole month! They never got back together after that. Farther and farther they drifted apart ... until one fine Christmas Day when another prodigy drifted into our lives, and offered herself. You! Leeland had flown back to visit us, only because I had pleaded with him to try and make it up with his father ...and Leeland saw you,” she took a pause and sighed, “It is our responsibility to pass along our skills of technique to the younger generation, and still I felt some apprehension in taking you on, mostly because I thought you would hurt my son. I don't know why I thought that, but it seemed obvious from the very start, it was that older doctor you loved and if not him then his younger brother. Then I thought you had something very rare, a passion for the dance that is seldom seen. You were, in your own way, equal to what Leeland was, and the two of you together were so sensational I couldn't believe my eyes. My son felt it too, the rapport between you two. You turned those big, soft, admiring blue eyes on him, so later he came and told me you were a sex kitten who would fall easily under his spell and into his arms. He and I always had a close relationship, and he confessed to me what other boys would have kept secret.”

She paused, flicked her stony eyes over Caren and went on breathlessly, "You came, you admired him, you loved him when you were dancing with him, and when you weren't, you were indifferent. The harder you were to win, the more determined he was to have you. I thought you were clever, playing a skillful woman's game when you were only a child! And now you, you ... you go and leave him when he was in a foreign country, when he couldn't speak the language, when you should have learned he has weaknesses, many of them, and that he cannot bear to be alone!"

She jumped up like a black, scrawny alleycat and stood above Caren. 

“Without Leeland to give you inspiration and enhance your talent with his own, where would you be? Without him would you be in New York, dancing with what is fast becoming one of the leading ballet companies? No! You'd be here, raising babies for that doctor. God knows why you said yes to Leeland, and how you can keep from loving him. For he tells me you don't, and never have! So you drug him. You leave him. You take off to see that younger brother, not even the one you were with before, become a doctor, when you know damn well your place is at your husband's side, making him happy and taking care of his wants! Yes! Yes!" she shrilled, "he called me long distance and told me everything! Now he thinks he hates you! Now he wants to cut you off. And when he does, he won't have a heart left to keep him alive! For he gave you his heart years and years ago!" She shouts.

Caren began to shake, slowly she rose to her feet; her legs felt weak and trembly as she brushed a hand over her aching forehead, and held back tired tears. 

All of a sudden it hit her hard, she did love Leeland. For now she saw how very much they were alike, him with his hate for his father who had denied him as a son. And her with her hatred for her mother, making me do crazy things, like sending off hateful letters and Christmas cards to sadden her life and never, never let her find peace. And Leeland in competition with his father, never knowing he'd won, and was better...and her in competition with her mother-but feeling that she had yet to prove herself better. 

"Madame, I am going to tell you something Leeland might not know, and I didn't really know until today; I do love your son. Perhaps I always loved him, and just couldn't accept it."

She shook her head, then fired her words like bullets, "If you love him, why did you leave him? Answer me that! You left him because you found out he has a liking for young women? Fool! All men have yearnings for young women but still they go on loving their wives! If you let his desire for young flesh drive you away, you are crazy! Slap his face; kick his behind-tell him to leave those girls alone or you will divorce him! Say all of that, and he will be what you want. But when you say nothing, and act like you don't care, you tell him plainly you don't love him, or want him, or need him!”

“I'm not his mother, or a priest, or God," Caren said wearily, sick of all the passion she used. Backing toward the door, Caren tried to leave before saying, “I don't know if I can keep Leeland from younger women, but I'm willing to go back and try. I promise to do better. I'll be more understanding, and I'll let him know I love him so much, I can't abide the thought of him making love to anyone but me."

Madame came then to take Caren in her arms. She soothed, “Poor baby, if I have been hard on you, it was for your own good. You have to keep my son from destroying himself. When you save him, you save yourself, for I lied when I said you would be nothing without Leeland. He is the one who would be nothing without you! He has a death wish, always I've known it. He thinks he's not good enough to live on because his father could never convince him he was, and that was my fault too, as well as his father’s. Leeland waited for years and years for his father to see him as a son, worthy of being loved for himself. He waited equally as long for his father to say yes, you will be even a better dancer than I was, and I'm proud of what and who you are. But his father kept his silence. But you go back and tell Leeland his father did love him. To me he said it many times. Tell him too that his father was proud of him. Tell him, Caren. Go back and convince him of how much you need and love him. Tell him how sorry you are to have left him alone. Go quickly before he does something terrible to himself!" She begged before Caren left.

So it was time for her to say good-bye to Cassidy and William. Only this time she didn't have to bid adieu to Daniel.

He put his foot down, “No! I'm coming with you! I'm not letting you go back to a crazy man. When you've made your peace with him, and I know everything is alright only then will I leave," Daniel declared.

The plane set down at La Guardia around three. A hot, sultry day. Both Carena and Daniel were both tired. 

"At this hour Leeland will be in the theater rehearsing. They'll use the rehearsals as a promotion film. There have to be a lot of rehearsals; we've never danced in this theater before and it's important to get the feel of the space you have to move in,” Caren explained to Daniel.

Daniel was lugging along Caren’s two heavy suitcases, while she carried his much lighter bag. She laughed and smiled his way, glad he was with her, though she knew Leeland would be furious.

"Now you stay in the background ... and don't let him even see you if everything goes alright. Really, Daniel, I'm sure he'll be glad to see me. He's not dangerous,” Caren reasoned.

“Sure," he said glumly.

They sauntered on into the darkened theater. The stage up ahead was very brightly lit. The TV cameras were in position, ready to shoot the warm-ups. The director, producer and a few others were lined up in the front-row seats.

The heat of the day was chased by the chill of the huge space so Daniel opened up one of Caren’s bags and spread a sweater about her shoulders after they both sat down near the aisle, midway back in the center section.

Automatically Caren lifted both her legs to stretch them on top of the seat just ahead. Though she shivered, the corps de ballet were sweating from the hot light. Caren looked for Leeland but didn't see him.

Just to think of Leeland though, was to bring him out of the wings, onto the stage in a series of whirling jetés. Looking so handsome.

"Wow!" whispered Daniel in Caren’s ear. "Sometimes I forget how sensational he is on stage. No wonder every ballet critic thinks he will be the star of this decade when he learns some discipline. Let it be soon ...and I mean you too, Caren." 

She smiled, for she too needed discipline, "Yes," she said, "I too, of course."

No sooner had Leeland finished his solo performance than the woman that had replaced Caren, Loretta Price pirouetted out from the wings, wearing red. She was more beautiful than ever and she danced so extraordinarily well for a girl so tall. 

That was, she danced well until Leeland came to partner her, and then everything went wrong. He reached for her waist and got her buttocks, then he had to quickly shift his hold, so she slipped and nearly fell and again he adjusted to save her.

A male dancer who let a ballerina fall would soon never have a partner to lift. They tried again the same jump, lift, and fall back, and this time it went almost as awkward, making Loretta seem ungainly, and Leeland unskilled.

Even Caren, sitting halfway down the row of seats, could hear her loud curse. "Damn you!" she screeched. "You make me look gauche-if you let me fall, I'll see you never dance again!"

"Cut!" called the director, getting to his feet and looking impatiently from one to the other.

The corps de ballet milled about, grumbling, throwing angry looks at the pair center stage that was wasting so much time. Obviously, from the sweaty, hot looks of all of them, this had been going on for some time, and badly.

"Laurent!" called the director, well known for having little patience for those who required two, or even more takes. "What the hell is wrong with your timing? I thought you said you knew this ballet. I can't think of one thing you've done right in the past three days."

"Me?" Leeland railed back. "It's not me... it's her-she jumps too soon!"

"Okay," the director said sarcastically, "it's always her fault and never yours." He tried to control his impatience, knowing Leeland would walk out in a second if criticized too much. "When is your wife going to be well enough to dance again?"

Loretta screamed out, "Hey, wait a minute! I came all the way from Los Angeles and now you're sounding as if you're going to replace me with Caren! I won't have it! I'm written into that contract now! I'll sue!"

"Miss Price," said the director smoothly, "you are the cover only—but while you are, let's attempt it again. Laurent, listen for your cue. Prince, make ready and pray to God this time it will be fit to show an audience who might expect better from professionals."

Caren smiled to hear she was only the cover. She had thought she was really written out. She found she perversely enjoyed watching Leeland make a fool out of himself and Loretta as well.

Yet, when the dancers on stage groaned, she groaned along with them, feeling their exhaustion, and despite herself she began to feel pity for Leeland who was diligently trying to balance Loretta. 

Any second the director could call "take ten" and that's when Caren would make her move.

Up ahead, first row, Madame Ephron suddenly turned her wizened giraffe neck to crane Caren’s way, and those sharp little beady eyes saw her sitting tensely, watching like an eagle. 

"Hey, you, Caren," she called with great enthusiasm, “Come,” she gestured, “sit by my side.”

"Excuse me a minute, Daniel," Caren whispered. “I've got to go up there and save Leeland before he ruins both our careers. I'll be alright. There's not much he can do with an audience is there?"

Once Caren was seated beside Madame Ephron, she hissed, "Sooo, you’re not so sick after all! Thank God for small favors. Your husband up there is ruining my reputation along with his and yours. I should have known better than to always let him partner you, so now he can dance with no one as well."

"Madame," Caren asked, "who arranged for Loretta to be my stand-in?”

"Your husband, my love," she whispered cruelly, “You let him get control, you were a fool to do that. He is impossible! He is a tempest, a devil, so unreasonable! Soon he will go mad, if he doesn't see your face or we will go mad. Now run fast and put on dance clothes and save me from extinction!"

It was only a matter of seconds before Caren had on a practice outfit and, as soon as she had her hair bound up and securely fastened in place, she strapped on her pointes. At the dressing room barre she warmed up quickly. Doing her pliés, and the rond de jambes to pump blood into each limb. Soon enough she was ready. Not a day passed where Caren didn't do her exercises for several hours.

In the darkened wings Caren hesitated. She was prepared, she thought, for almost anything for when Leeland saw her, what would he do? While she watched him on stage, suddenly from behind she was brutally shoved aside! 

"You've been replaced," hissed Loretta. “So, get out and stay out! You had your chance and loused it up. Now Leeland is mine! You hear that? He's mine! I have slept in your bed, and used your makeup and worn your jewelry. I have taken your place in everything."

Caren wanted to ignore her and not believe anything she said. When the cue came for Giselle to go on, Loretta tried to hold her that's when Caren turned savagely upon her and pushed her so hard she fell. She blanched with pain, while Caren went on pointe and glided onto the stage, making her perfect little string of pearls. 

Each tiny step could have been measured and proven to be of an exact distance. For now was the shy, young village girl, sweetly, sincerely falling in love with Loys. Others on stage gasped to see her. Relief lit up Leeland's dark eyes for an instant.

"Hi," he said coolly as she neared him, and fluttered her dark lashes to enchant him more. 

"Why'd you come back? Your doctors kick you out? Sick of you already?" He asked.

"You are a nasty, inconsiderate brute, Leeland, to replace me with Loretta! You know I despise her!"

His back was to the lookers as he sneered wickedly, all the while keeping time, "Yeah, I know you hate her. That's why I wanted her." 

He curled his beautiful red lips so they looked ugly, “Listen to this, dancing doll. Nobody runs out on me, especially my wife, and comes back and thinks she can still fit in my life. My love, my dearest heart, I don't want you now, I don't need you now, and you can go and play bitch to any man you want! Get the hell out of my life!"

"You don't mean that," Caren said, as they both performed perfectly, and no one called cut. How could they when they did everything so exquisitely right?

"You don't love me," he said bitterly. "You've never loved me. No matter what I did, or what I said, and now I don't give a damn! I gave you the best I had to give, and it wasn't enough. So, dear Caren I give you this!" 

And with those sudden words, he broke the routine, jumped high into the air, to come down forcefully and directly onto her feet. All his weight, brought down like a battering ram to crush her toes.

Caren uttered some small cry of pain, then Leeland was whirling back to chuck her under the chin.

“Now, love, see who will dance Giselle with me. Certainly it won't be you, will it?" He hisses.

“Take ten!" bellowed the director, too late to save her.

Leeland gripped her shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. Caren stared at him rattle-eyed, expecting anything. Then suddenly he whirled away leaving her center stage, alone, on two damaged feet that hurt so badly she could have screamed. Instead, she sank to the floor and sat there staring at her rapidly swelling feet.

From out of the darkened auditorium Daniel came running to her assistance. 

“Damn him to hell for doing this!" He cried, falling on his knees to take off her pointe shoes and examine her feet. Tenderly he tried to move her toes, but she cried out from the awful pain. 

Then he picked her up easily and held her tight against him, "You'll be alright, Caren. I'll see that your toes heal properly. I fear a few are broken on each foot. You'll need an orthopedist,” he told her.

"Take Caren to our orthopedist," ordered Madame Ephron who teetered forward and stared at Caren’s darkening, enlarging feet. She peered more closely at Daniel, having seen him only a few times before. 

“You’re Caren’s doctor boy who caused all this trouble?" she asked, making Caren blush. “Take her quick to the doctor. We have insurance. But that fool husband, this is it. I fire him!” She declared.

At the doctor of Caren’s feet were X-rayed disclosing three broken toes on her left foot, and one broken small toe on her right.

Thank God both her big toes were spared, or else she might never dance again! 

An hour later Daniel was carrying her out of the doctor's office with a plaster cast drying on one foot that reached to her knee, while the small toe was only taped and left to heal without such protection.

The doctor's last words rung in her ears though, “You may, or you may not dance again, it all depends." 

On what it depended, he didn't say.

So she asked Daniel. 

“Sure," he said confidently, of course you'll dance again. Sometimes a doctor likes to be overly pessimistic so you can think how great he was when everything works out fine due to his special skill."

Clumsily he tried to support her while he used her key to open the door of the apartment Leeland and her shared. Then he carefully lifted her up again, carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind him. He tried to make her as comfortable as possible on one of the soft couches.

Caren had her eyes squeezed tightly together, trying to suppress the pain she felt at every move.

Daniel tenderly supported both legs so he could stuff pillows under and keep them elevated to reduce the swelling. Another fat pillow was carefully eased under her back and head and he never said one word not one word.

Because he was so silent, she opened her eyes and studied his face that loomed above her. He tried to look professional, detached, but he failed. He showed shock each time his eyes moved from one object to another.

Fearful Caren looked around and her eyes bulged and her mouth opened. 

This room! The mess! Oh, God, it was awful!

Their apartment was a wreck! Every painting Leeland and her had so carefully selected was torn down from the walls, smashed on the floor. Even the two watercolors Daniel had painted especially for her, portraits with her in costume.

All the expensive trinkets they’d bought lay broken on the hearth, lamps were on the floor, the shades slashed to ribbons and the wire frames bent. Needlepoint pillows she'd made during the long tedious flights from here to there while on tour were ripped, destroyed! Houseplants had been dumped from their pots and left with roots exposed to die.

Two cloisonné vases that William had given as a wedding gift, gone too. Everything fine and costly, and very cherished, things they had planned to keep all their lives and leave to their children, all beyond restoration.

"Vandals," said Daniel softly, "Just vandals." 

He smiled and kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand as tears came to her eyes. “Stay calm," he said, then he went to check the other three rooms, while she sank back on the pillows and sniffed back her sobs. 

Oh, how he must hate her to do this! 

Shortly after, Daniel was back with his expression very composed, in that same eye-of-the-hurricane way she'd seen a few times on his face. 

"Caren," he began, settling cautiously down on the edge of the sofa and reaching for her hand, “I don't know what to think. All your clothes and shoes have been ruined. Your jewelry is scattered all over the bedroom floor, the chains ripped apart, the rings stepped on, bracelets hammered out of shape. It looks as if somebody set out deliberately to ruin all of your things and left Leeland's in perfect condition."

He gave her a baffled, troubled look, and maybe the tears she tried to hold back jumped from her eyes to his. With glistening blue eyes he extended his palm to show her the setting of a once exquisite diamond engagement ring, given to her by his brother, William.

The platinum band was now a crooked oval. The prongs had released their clasp on the clear and perfect two-carat diamond.

Sedatives had been shot into her arm so she couldn't feel the pain of her broken toes. She felt fuzzy and disoriented, and rather detached. Someone inside her was screaming, screaming hatred was near again-the wind was blowing, and when she closed her eyes.

"Leeland," she said weakly, "he must have done this. He must have come back and vented his rage on all my belongings. See the things left whole, they are things he chose for himself."

"Damn him to hell!" cried Daniel. “How many times has he vented his rage on you? How many black eyes—I've seen one-but how many others?"

"Please don't," Caren said sleepily, "He never hit me, that he didn't cry afterward, and he'd say he was sorry. Yes, so sorry, my sweetheart, my only love. I don't know what makes me act as I do when I love you so much,” she muttered.

"Caren," began Daniel tentatively, tucking the platinum band in his pocket, "Are you alright? You look close to fainting. I'll go in and straighten up the bed, so you can rest in that. Soon you'll fall asleep and forget all of this, and when you wake up, I'm taking you away. Don't cry for the clothes and things he gave you, for I'll give you better and more. As for this ring William gave you, I'll search around the bedroom until I find the diamond."

He looked, but he didn't find the diamond, and when she drifted into sleep, he carried her to the bed he'd made up with clean sheets. She was under a sheet and a thin blanket when she opened her eyes, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her face. 

Caren glanced toward the windows and saw it was getting dark. Any moment Leeland would come home, and find Daniel with her and there'd be hell to pay.

But she wanted him to stay. For always he gave her comfort when nothing else could. Always he was there when she needed him to do and say the right thing.

“You’ve made it Daniel. I haven’t yet. You should let me go,” Caren whispered and then added, “You've achieved your goal of being a doctor. But I'm still not a prima ballerina." she said this last part bitterly.

"Caren, don't belittle yourself. You will be a prima ballerina yet!” He said fervently. "You would have been a long time ago, if Leeland could control his fits of temper that makes every company manager afraid to sign the pair of you on. You get stuck in a minor company just because you won't leave him."

Caren sighed, wishing he hadn't said that. It was true enough Leeland’s fiery temper tantrums had scared off more than one offer that would have placed them in a more prestigious company.

“You've got to leave, Daniel. I don't want him to come home and find you here. He doesn't want you near me. And I can't leave him. In his own way he loves me and needs me. Without me to keep him steady he would be ten times more violent, and I do love him after all. If he struck out sometimes, he was just trying to make me see that. Now I do see,” Caren told him.

"See?" he cried. “You're not seeing! You’re letting pity for him rob you of good common sense! Look around you, Caren! Only a crazy man could have done this. I'm not leaving you alone to face a madman! I'm staying to protect you. Tell me what you could do if he decides to make you pay again for leaving him alone in Spain? Could you get up and run? No! I'm not leaving you here, unprotected, when he might come home drunk, or on drugs,” Daniel started.

“He doesn't use drugs!" Caren defended, protective of the good that was in Leeland, and for some reason, wanting to forget all that wasn't.

"He jumped on your toes, when you need those toes to dance on, so don't tell me you will have a sane man to deal with. You need to leave him,” Daniel insisted only to be rebuffed.

"Daniel, I'm going to have Leeland's baby. I went to a gynecologist while I was in town. It's the reason I stayed longer than I originally intended. Leeland and I are having a baby."

She could have slapped him from the way he moved backward. He sat up on the side of the bed and bowed his head into his hands. Then he sobbed, "Always you manage to defeat me, Caren! First William, my brother who I can’t even hate, then Leeland who I’ll never understand why you put up with, and now a baby."

There was a silence for a moment before he suddenly faced her,  "Come away and let me be the father to that child! Leeland isn't fit!”

"Daniel I'm going to have the baby with Leeland,” Caren said with a firm resolution that surprised even herself, “I want Leeland's child for I do love him, Daniel, and I've failed him in so many ways. Failed him because you and William got in my eyes, and I didn't appreciate what I could have had in him. I should have been a better wife, and then he wouldn't have needed those girls. I…” Caren tried to continue before Daniel interrupted. 

"You forgive him for breaking your toes?" he asked, astonished.

"He kept begging me to say I loved him, and I never would. I kept a deceptive parasol over my head, to keep dark doubts in my mind, and I refused to see anything that was noble and fine about him but his dancing. I didn't realize that to love me, even when I denied him, was noble and fine in itself. So, let me go, Daniel. Even if I never dance again, I'll have his child and he will go on to fame without me."

Daniel looked at her with deep sadness before standing up and leaving.

So Caren slept only to bolt awake at the sound of a telephone ringing.

Why did a telephone ringing in the dead of night always have such a threatening sound? 

Caren sleepily reached for the receiver and muttered, "Hello?”

"Mrs. Leeland Laurent?"

Caren came awake a bit more, and rubbed at her eyes. "Yes, this is she."

She named a hospital on the other side of town, “Mrs.Laurent, would you please come as quickly as possible? If you can, have someone else drive you. Your husband was in an auto accident, and is even now in surgery. Bring with you his insurance papers, identification, and any medical history you have, Mrs. Laurent...are you there?"

But she wasn’t she was back to being a young child and hearing her father was dead in auto accident, and she instantly cried out, “Daniel!” Hoping her hadn’t left.

He was to her in a second coming from the other room, “I’m here,” he said, for he always was and would never truly leave her.

In that dim and lonely hour that comes before dawn, Daniel and Caren arrived at the hospital.

In one of those sterile waiting rooms they sat down to wait and find out if Leeland would survive the accident and the surgery.

Finally, around noon, after hours in the recovery room, they brought him down. They had him laid out on what they called a "fracture bed", a torturous looking device that strung up his right leg which wore a cast from his toes to his hip. His left arm was broken, and in a cast, and strung up in a peculiar way too. His pale face was lacerated and bruised. His lips, usually so full and red, were as pale as his skin. But all of that was nothing compared to his head.

Caren shivered to look. His head had been shaved and small holes drilled for metal calipers to be hooked in to pull his head up and backward. A leather collar lined with fleece was fastened about his neck. A broken neck! Plus a leg fracture, and a compound fracture of his forearm, was to say nothing of the internal injuries that had kept him on the operating table three hours.

Caren cried out, “Will he live?”

"He is on the critical list, Mrs. Laurent," they answered so calmly, "If he has other close relatives, we suggest you contact them."

Daniel made the call to Madame Milena, for Caren was deathly afraid he'd pass away any moment, and she might miss the only chance to tell him she loved him. And if that happened, she'd be cursed and haunted all through the rest of her life.

Days passed. Leeland flitted in and out of consciousness.

He stared at Caren with eyes lackluster, unfocused. He spoke but his voice came so thick, heavy and unintelligible she couldn't understand. She forgave him for all the little sins, and the big ones too, as you are apt to when death is around the corner. 

She rented a room in the hospital next to his where she could catch naps, but she never had a full night's rest. She had to be there when he came to, where he could see and know, so she could plead with him to fight, to live, and, most of all, say all the words she'd so stingily kept from his ears. 

"Leeland," she whispered, her voice hoarse from saying it so often, "Please don't die!"

Their dancing friends and musicians flocked to the hospital to offer what consolation they could. His room filled with flowers from hundreds of fans. 

Madame Milena flew up from South Carolina and stalked into the room wearing a dreary black dress. She gazed down on the unconscious face of her only child without any expression of grief. 

“Better he die now," she said flatly, “than to wake up and find himself a cripple for life.”

“How dare you say that?" Caren flared, ready to strike her,  "He's alive-and he's not doomed. His spinal cord wasn't injured! He'll walk again, and dance again too!"

Then came the pity and disbelief to shimmer her jet eyes and then she was in tears. She who'd boasted she never cried, never showed grief, wept in Caren’s arms. 

"Say it again, that he'll dance-oh, don't lie, he's got to dance again!"

Five horrible days came and went before Leeland could focus his eyes enough to really see. Unable to turn his head, he rolled his eyes Caren’s way. 

"Hi."

"Hello, dreamer. I thought you were never going to wake up," Caren said.

He smiled, a thin ironic smile, "No such luck, Caren love." 

His eyes flicked downward to his strung-up leg. "I'd rather be dead than like this."

Caren got up and went to his fracture bed that was made with two wide strips of rough canvas slipped over strong rods. It was a hard, unyielding bed to lie on, yet she stretched beside him very carefully, and curled her fingers into his tangle of remaining uncombed hair.

Her free hand stroked his chest, “Lee, you're not paralyzed. Your spinal cord was not severed, crushed, or even bruised. It's just in shock, so to speak."

He had an uninjured arm that could have reached to hold her, but it stayed straight at his side, "You're lying," he said bitterly, "I can't feel one damn thing from my waist down. Not your hand on my chest either. Now get the hell out of here! You don't love me! You wait until you think I'm ready to kick off, and then you come with your sweet words! I don't want or need your pity-so get the hell out, and stay out!"

Caren left his bed and reached for her purse, crying, even as he cried and stared at the ceiling. 

“Damn you for wrecking our apartment!" Caren stormed when she could talk, "You tore up my clothes!" Caren rampaged, angry now, and wanting to slap his face that was already bruised and swollen, “Damn you for breaking all our beautiful things! You knew how painstakingly we chose all those lamps, the accessories that cost a fortune. You know we wanted to leave them as heirlooms for our children. Now we've got nothing left to leave anyone!”

He grinned, satisfied. “Yeah, nothing left for nobody,” he yawned, as if dismissing her, but she was unwilling to be dismissed, "Got no kids, thank God. Never gonna have any. You can get a divorce. Marry some son of a bitch and make his life miserable too."

"Leeland," Caren said with such heavy sadness, "Have I made your life miserable?"

He blinked, as if not wanting to answer that, but she asked him again, and again, until she forced him to say, "Not altogether miserable-we had a few moments."

"Only a few?"

"Well... maybe more than a few. But you don't have to stay on and take care of an invalid. Get the hell out while you can. I'm no good, you know that. I've been unfaithful to you time and again."

"If you are again, I'll cut your heart out!"

"Go 'way, Caren. I'm tired."

He sounded sleepy from the many sedatives they fed into him and shot into him, “Kids are not good for people like us anyway."

“People like us...?"

"Yeah, people like us."

"How are we different?”

He mockingly, sleepily laughed, bitterly too, "We're not real. We don't belong to the human race."

"What are we then?"

“Dancing dolls, that's all. Dancing fools, afraid to be real people and live in the real world. That's why we prefer fantasy. Didn't you know?" He asked.

"No, I didn't know. I always thought we were real,” Caren whispered.

"It wasn't me who ruined your things, it was Loretta. I watched, though."

Caren felt sick, scared he was telling the truth. Was she only a dancing doll? Couldn't she make her way in the real world, outside the theater? Wasn't she better at coping than her mother?

"Leeland ... I do love you, honest I do. I used to think I loved someone else, because it seemed so unnatural to go from one love to another. When I was a little girl, I used to believe love came only once in a lifetime, and that was the best kind. I thought once you loved one person, you never could love another. But I was wrong,” Caren tried.

"Get out and leave me alone. I don't want to hear what you've got to say, not now. Now I don't give a damn," Leeland told her.

Tears coursed down Caren’s face and dropped down on him. He closed his eyes and refused to see, or listen. She leaned to kiss his lips, and they stayed tight, hard, unresponding.

Next he spat, "Stop! You sicken me!"

"I love you, Leeland," she sobbed, “and I'm sorry if I realized it too late, and said it too late but don't let it be too late. I'm expecting your baby, the fourteenth in a long line of dancers, and that baby is a lot to live for, even if you don't love me anymore. Don't close your eyes and pretend not to hear, because you are going to be a father, whether or not you want to be." 

He rolled his dark, shining eyes her way, and she saw why they shone, for they were full of tears.

Tears of self-pity, or tears of frustration, she didn't know.

But he spoke more kindly, and there was a tone of love in his voice, "I advise you to get rid of it, Caren. Fourteen is no luckier a number than thirteen."

She left his room to sleep on Daniel’s shoulder for a few hours. When she got up she walked to Leeland’s room to see he was asleep, deeply asleep. The intravenous tube that led to his arm ran under the sheet and into his vein.

But for some reason she fixed her eyes upon that bottle with the pale yellow liquid that seemed more water than anything else, so quickly it was being depleted.

She ran back to shake Daniel awake, "Daniel," she said, as he tried to pull himself together, “isn't that IV supposed to just trickle into his arm? It's running out very quickly,too quickly, I think."

Hardly were the words out of her mouth when Daniel was up and running toward Leeland's room.

Daniel only had to throw back the sheet to see the problem, the tube had been cut! 

"Oh, God," sighed Daniel, "an air bubble must have reached his heart."

Caren stared at the shiny scissors held so loosely in Leeland’s slack right hand. 

"He cut the tube himself," she whispered, "he cut the tube himself, and now he's dead, dead, dead.”

Daniel turned on the nurse, but Caren stopped him even in her grief, “It's all right," she said dully, "If he hadn't done it this way, it would have been another. I should have known and warned you. There was no life for him if he could never dance again. No life at all.”

Leeland was buried next to his father. On the headstone, Caren made sure Madame Milena agreed to the name she added:

Leeland Laurent Romanov, beloved husband of Caren, and thirteenth in a long line of Russian male ballet stars.

Maybe it was ostentatious and gave away her own failure to love him enough while he lived, but she had to let him have it the way he wanted or as she thought he wanted.

Daniel, William, Cassidy and her paused at the foot of his father’s grave too, and she bowed her head to show respect to Leelands father. Respect she should have given him too.

“Caren," said William when they were all seated in the long black limousine, "your room is still as it was, all yours. Come home and live with Cassidy and me until your baby is born. Daniel will be there too, doing his internship at the local Hospital."

Caren stared over at Daniel who was seated on the jumpseat, knowing he'd won a much better position in a very important hospital—and he was interning in a small, unimportant one. 

“Duke is so far away, Caren," he said with his eyes avoiding hers. “It was bad enough traveling when I was in college and med school so if you don't mind, let me be somewhere near so I can be here the day your son or daughter arrives in the world."

Madame Milena jolted so her head almost struck the ceiling of the car, "You carry Leeland's child?" She cried. "Why didn't you tell me before? How wonderful!" She glowed, so the sadness dropped from her like a gloomy cloak. “Now Leeland's not dead at all, for he will father a son, who will be exactly like him!”

"It may be a girl, Madame," William said softly, while he reached for Caren’s hand causing Daniel to turn away slightly, “I know you long for a boy like your son, but I long for a little girl like Caren and Cassidy ...but if it's a boy, I won't object."

"Object?" cried Madame. "God in his infinite wisdom and mercy will send to Caren the exact duplicate of Leeland! And he will dance, and he will reach the fame that was waiting just around the corner for the son of my husband!"

That night as Caren sat on the porch, the door behind her opened and closed quietly. She didn't look to see who it was, for she knew. She was good at sensing people, even in the dark. 

William sat in the chair next to hers, and rocked his chair in the same rhythm as she rocked.

"Caren," he said softly, "I hate to see you sitting there with that lost and drained expression. Don't think all the good things in your life have passed you by and nothing is left. You're still very young, very beautiful, and after your baby is born, you can quickly whip yourself back into shape, and dance until you feel you're ready to retire and teach."

She didn't turn her head. Dance again? How could she dance when Leeland lay in the ground? All she had was the baby. She would make the baby the center of her life. She would teach her child to dance, and he or she would reach the fame that should have been Leeland’s and hers. Everything that her mother failed to give her and her siblings she would bestow on her child.

Never would her child be neglected. When her child reached for her, she would be there. When her child cried out for Momma, he wouldn't have to make do with only an older sister. No, she’d be like her mother was when she was with her father. That was what hurt the most, that she could change from someone loving and kind into what she was, a monster. Never, never would she treat her child as her mother treated hers!

She had to be careful and not eat junk food; She had to drink plenty of milk, take vitamins, and think happy thoughts, not vengeful ones. Every day from now on she would play ballet music. Inside her, her baby would hear, and even before he or she was born a small living soul would be indoctrinated to the dance.

She smiled, thinking of all the pretty tutus she could buy for her little girl. She smiled even more to think of a boy like his father with dark blue eyes just like his. 

Carailand Ryan Laurent would be his name. Carailand for both her and his father and Ryan for Daniel’s little brother who now filled her dreams, remembering the way Daniel described him.

Though she tried diligently to think only of the innocent child growing within her, still her thoughts would steal to her mother, filling her with hate, filling her with unwanted plans for revenge. For somehow she had caused Leeland’s death too.

Madame Milena came often to check on her condition,and filled her with authoritative advice.

“Now you keep up your practicing; play the ballet music to fill Leeland’s baby with love for beauty before he is born; inside you he'll know the dance is waiting for him." 

She glanced down at Caren’s feet that had finally healed, “How do those toes feel now?"

"Fine," she answered dully, though they ached when it rained.

The long days of grief sped by more quickly because she had Leeland's baby, part of him to keep with her. 

Soon Christmas was upon them, and she was so large she didn't feel she should show herself. Daniel insisted, along with William, that it would be good therapy to go shopping.

Caren bought an antique gold locket to send to Madame Ephron, and inside she put two small photos of Leeland and her, in their Romeo and Juliet costumes.

Shortly after Christmas her thank-you note arrived:

Dear Caren, my own love,

Yours is the best gift of all. I grieve for your beautiful dancing husband. I grieve for you most of all if you decide not to dance again just because you are to become a mother! Long ago you would have been a prima ballerina if your husband had shown less arrogance and more respect for those in authority. Keep in shape, do exercises and bring your baby with you. My poor son just had a baby himself, I pray he will be a dancer. Bring your darling child and they can run around together. We will all live together in my place until you find a new dancer to love. Life offers many chances, not just one. Come back.

Forever here for you, 

Madame Ephron

Her note put a wistful smile on Caren’s face. 

It was a cold February night when Caren felt her first contraction. She gasped from the sharp pain. She had known it would hurt, but not so much! 

She glanced at the clock, two o’clock in the morning of Valentine's Day. Her baby would be born on what would have been her and Leeland’s sixth wedding anniversary! 

"Leeland," she cried out, as if he could hear her, "you are about to become a father!"

She got up and dressed as speedily as she could before she crossed the hall to rap on William's door. He mumbled something in the way of a question. 

“William," Caren called, "I think I just had my first contraction."

"Thank God!" he cried from the other side, instantly wide awake. "Are you all set to go?"

"Of course. I've been ready for a month."

"I'll call your doctor, then alert Daniel, you sit down and take it easy!"

"Would it be all right if I came in?" Caren asked.

He swung open the door, wearing only his trousers, "You're the calmest mother-to-be I've ever seen," he said as he helped her sit. 

He raced next to swipe at his face with an electric razor, then he was running to put on a shirt and tie. 

“Had any more contractions?" He asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, when another seized her. She doubled over, “Fifteen minutes since the last."

She gasped and he looked pale as he pulled on his jacket, then came to help her up,"Okay, I'll put you in the car first, then go for your suitcase. Keep calm, don't worry, this baby will have three doctors doing their very best..."

"To get in each other's way," Caren concluded.

"To see you have the best medical attention possible," he corrected.

He left a note for Cassidy for when she woke up, also telling her to call Madame Milena and put the tape they made for her.

It seemed forever before the hospital loomed up ahead. Under a protective canopy at the emergency entrance, a solitary intern paced restlessly back and forth. Daniel, who said "Thank God you're here! I was picturing all sorts of calamities," even as he assisted her out, while someone else rushed up with a wheelchair, and without any of the preliminaries other patients had to endure. 

She was snug in bed in no time at all and gasping from another contraction.

Three hours later, her son was born, Daniel and William were there, both of them with tears in their eyes, but it was Daniel who picked up her son, still with the cord attached, messy and bloody. He put him upon her belly and held him there while another doctor did what he had to. 

"Caren can you see him?" Daniel asked tears in his eyes.

“He's beautiful,” Caren breathed in awe, seeing all that light wavy hair, the perfect little red body. With a fierce anger so like his father's he waved his tiny fists and flailed his thin legs, screaming at all the indignities inflicted upon him and all the light that came so suddenly to shine in his eyes, and put him center stage, so to speak.

“His name is Carailand Ryan Laurent, but I'm going to call him Cary,” Caren whispered.

Both Daniel and William heard her thin whisper. She was so tired, so sleepy.

“Ryan?” William asked for the rest was understandable to him.

It wasn't Caren who had the strength to answer. It was Daniel who understood all of it.

“Carailand was for both of them, and she always did love Cary Grant movies. But he’s blonde and beautiful just like my brother Ryan was. I used to tell her about him all the time when she first came here,” he whispered with a small smile.

For a moment their eyes met and she smiled. How wonderful to be understood, and never have to explain.

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia Ch 39: It Hits the Fan

Chapter 39: It Hits the Fan

Today was the day!

Miguel's birthday!

Héctor chuckled to himself as he finished shaving and wiping off the leftover shaving cream off his face, leaving behind the little tuft of hair that was his goatee. He had often considered shaving it off completely, being too old to have such juvenile facial hair, but at this point in his life it was practically trademarked. All his official photos and even illustrations of him all had it. He was practically stuck with it.

He chuckled again, letting his mind drift over these trivial things that made him smile. Any thoughts that didn't include what this day also was. Yes, he would put items on the ofrenda for his beloved daughter, tell her how much he missed her and loved her. Even give a respectful nod to Ernesto's foto. But other than that his thoughts were only on Miguel's birthday party. All the family would be there, everyone would feast on Miguel's favorite meals, presents, games, laughter and love. If he just concentrated on that then the pain wouldn't be so bad.

He didn't sleep well last night. He never did on the days leading up to Dia de Muertos. He vaguely remembered waking up crying once last night, but he was soon lulled back to sleep by his wife's calming presence and he was fine afterwards. She didn't even say anything when he awoke the next morning, and he was thankful for that. He could pass off the dark circles under his eyes on his age, and no one besides Imelda would notice.

He stepped into his walk-in closet and pushed aside Imelda's beautiful dresses to get to his clothes. He was feeling particularly festive today and pulled out his royal purple suit jacket off the hanger. Thinking about which tie would go well with hit, he looked up and saw something gleaming in between the hanging clothes.

The golden tooth of a grinning skull.

Immediately his mood dropped as he blankly stared at the headstock of his once prized guitar. He didn't feel any pride or joy in looking at it, hadn't even played it for over nine years, but he couldn't bring himself to hate it either. Many times he had considered giving it away or, in his more depressive states, simply throw it into the dumpster where he felt it belonged.

But he never could. Because his beloved wife had given it to him on his birthday, oh so many years ago.

'Y-you… bought this for me?! I don't know what to say…'

'You don't need to say anything Héctor. Feliz Cumpleaños. Now stop saving your money for it and go buy yourself some food, tonto.'

And then she had kissed him for the first time ever. On the cheek, yes, but it had made his whole head burst into flames and his ears buzz. It was the true beginning of their relationship, and this guitar was the key. It was a precious moment in his life: a fond memory. So no, he couldn't get rid of it so easily. But it wasn't going to stay in the closet anymore either. He'd have a talk with Chente later about sending it off to Rivera de La Cruz Records to be put on display to the public if they wanted it. It would still be his, but he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Picking up a red necktie he pushed a bunch of clothes over the guitar, concealing it again, and walked away.

--------------------------------------

"Facundo! Don't smear icing on your sister's dress! Anselmo! Osvaldo! Stop fighting, you're in front of company, show some respect! Ay, Dahlia hold the baby for me, would you? You're the oldest, you need to help Papá."

Miguel walked into the courtyard with Victoria to absolute mayhem, with Victoria pulling him out of the way just in time before a sticky pastry struck the wall where his head was. Nodding his thanks to his niece he looked out to see Elena and Charlie playing with five other small, very rambunctious children dressed in their best church clothes. Soiled in mud, breakfast foods and sans shoes of course, but there was an effort to get Martín and Rosita's children dressed nicely for the special occasion. Martín was standing over them, trying not to be knocked down by the running, screaming children as he also tried not to drop the baby girl in his arms. Matty was also seated at the table set outside, holding Clara and looking very smug that his own children were behaving themselves properly, and Julio was looking out at the chaos with a thousand-yard stare.

Sitting down after finally passing the baby to his eldest, Martín slumped into a chair with a groan and leaned towards Matty in exhaustion. "Remember the Nazis? How easy it was with them? They were so neat and organized. Precise."

"They blew your leg off, amigo."

"At this point in my life, I wish they blew something else off."

"Papá, Papá!" One of Martín's sons came up to him, pulling on his sleeve and smiling with gapped teeth. "Charlie wants to play horses! Can we, por favor?"

"Ay, all right." Reaching down underneath the table, Martín fumbled around a little with belts and straps before pulling off and giving the child his prosthetic leg. "Don't get it dirty and do not, I repeat, do not… stick forks in it again."

Suddenly Julio sat up with a smile and shouted. "Hey everyone! The birthday boy is here!"

All the little children stopped immediately to look at Miguel standing in the doorway, before screaming again and running into him for hugs. This time Victoria didn't help, and Miguel let out a squawk when he was bombarded with seven sticky children. "Feliz cumpleaños, Miguel!" several little voices yelled out.

"Agh!... Gr-gracias… AHH! You guys are squeezing me to hard!"

"Ah, there you are mijo." Imelda swooped in and managed to pry the little ones off her son, brushing down his hair and giving him a kiss. "Fashionably late to your own party, I see. You look very nice today."

"Gracias, Mamá." Miguel said, pulling down his sleeves to cover up the wristbands that Victoria had made for him. 'I've gotta look nice for my performance tonight.' He said to himself. It wasn't a charro suit that he would have liked to wear, like a professional mariachi, but the bolo tie and shiny new boots were a nice touch.

"Well I hope your hungry." Imelda said. "We've been cooking up a storm all morning in that cramped little kitchen. And Wanda has made a delicious surprise for you."

"Cinnamon rolls!" Wanda said happily, placing a tray of pastries absolutely dripping with icing and candied nuts on the table. "My grandmother's recipe. I really hope you'll like them, but if you're anything like your brother then I know you're going to love them Miguel."

"No, I don't love them." Matty said, already double fisting the freshly glazed rolls with hungry eyes. "I'm damn near addicted to them. I crave them all day every day. But they're considered a Sunday food, and I'm forced to go without all week! It's torture, hermanito, pure torture."

"Which reminds me, since I'm making them on a Friday that means you've had them two times this week. So, we can skip them on Sunday and have them the next week."

"What?!"

"It's actually a little funny." Wanda said as Matty started to hoard as many rolls as he could in front of him. "Rosita's had three so far, but she's been pouring lime juice all over them. Lime juice! Can you believe it? How can you eat something so sour with something so sweet is beyond me!"

The others laughed a little and started to doll out the rest of the pastries to everyone else, with only Matty noticing the way Martín's face had turned pale white and he sunk lowly in his chair. "Lime juice?… Oh, no no no no nooo…"

Matty shook his head with pity, but mostly with exasperation, and ate his cinnamon roll. "Cochino…"

Breakfast was delicious, of course, and the party continued throughout the day. There were party games, cake and ice cream and even more sugary delights that threw all the little children into an even more manic frenzy until they had finally passed out underneath the shade of the tree. The ofrenda had been set up, decorated with flowers and offerings for Imelda's parents, Leti, the late Facundo and even Matty's friend Barto, while the adults shared stories of their dearly departed despite Héctor's best efforts to divert their attention to another party game or business idea he had. Even Chente and his best friend Javier had come to whish him a happy birthday to join the festivities. They always seemed really cool to Miguel, and he also felt like they understood his frustration with the lack of music.

Miguel absently kept checking the clock every so often, time seeming to move achingly slow as it creeped towards seven. He had hidden his guitar underneath the ofrenda table, somewhere he knew his father wouldn't be near that much, so it would be ready to be picked up when he left.

But for now his concentration was on opening the last birthday present, then he could go get his real gift. "Wow, sneakers! Gracias Tío Oscar y Tío Felipe!"

"Not just any sneakers." Felipe said proudly.

"But the new Rivera Freeflyers!"

"The new line of children's shoes-"

"-that goes on the market next year."

"Designed by us of course."

"But you're the first kid to wear them!"

"Feliz cumpleaños!"

Smiling, Miguel set the shoes back in the box. "That's really cool. Thanks again. Is that the last present? Aw man, that's sad. But I guess good things can't last forever. Well, if we're done I have some stuff I-"

"Atata. Not so fast, Miguel." Héctor walked up to him, smiling widely. "Because I also have a present for you."

Sitting back down, glancing at the clock again, Miguel's smile drooped a little in uncertainty. "Okay…"

Clearing his throat theatrically, Héctor stood next to his son in the center of the room spoke loud for all to hear. "Twelve years ago today, Miguel Rivera… beloved nephew, tío, brother and son… was brought into this world. A harrowing, frightful day for the whole family, especially for his dear mother, mi diosa, but one that ultimately ended in triumph. For that tiny baby was able to grow into a healthy little boy, and who has now grown into the fine young man standing before us all today."

"And since you are on the brink of adulthood, it's high time that we start thinking about your future, Miguel. Specifically what you're going to do for a living when you grow up. Now as much as we, and pretty much the whole world, loves your Mamá's shoes I get the feeling that's not where your passions truly lie. But after having a talk with Chente yesterday, we came to the conclusion that maybe your future lies with… Rivera de la Cruz Records."

Miguel noticed the way his father flinched at saying Ernesto's name, like he always did, but that didn't matter at the moment. There was a sudden bubbling of excitement and anticipation welling up inside of him, and he happily looked over at Chente for a confirmation. The former assistant, now CEO of the biggest movie and music production company in Mexico, gave him a silent smile and thumbs up. Turning back to his father with a big smile, Héctor continued.

"So your mother and I talked about it last night, and we both decided the best opportunity for you would be-"

Miguel could see it now: His name in lights, the crowd chanting his name, strumming a guitar just like, no better, than Tío Nesto's. Singing songs that he had written himself, the crowd singing along with him because they were so good, so memorable. Immortalized for all time by doing the one thing he truly loved to do: Playing the guit-

"-to start training you in business, just like your brother! And to start with that, we're going to enroll you in business management classes!"

…..

…..

"… What?"

There was not a sound coming from anyone else in the room. Wanda, Julio and Coco looked at each other in complete disbelief and mild disgust, Matty slowly bringing his hand over his eyes in complete exasperation. The other adults in the room cringed and suddenly became very interested in their plates of leftover food and cake, except for Vicente and Javier. Poor Chente stared at Héctor like he had just condemned the man to his death, eyes wide and mouth agape in horror, while Javier was bent nearly in half in his chair. Shoulders shaking and biting down on his clenched fist, Javier was doing everything he could to not just bust out laughing at the entire fiasco in front of him. Oblivious to everyone's obvious displeasure of his grand announcement, Héctor continued.

"There's a school nearby. In San Benito. They specialize in training children for college. Mateo, you went there, remember?"

Nodding and smiling painfully, Matty said, "Yes, Papá. I remember going… I remember willingly going-"

"Well, you did so well there that we thought Miguel would too! Now, they've got a new program where they include room and boarding, and you can do your regular schooling there."

"Which" Imelda interjected, "I have already vetoed. They still have just the same smaller classes every other weekend that you went to, Mateo. I don't want our little boy to be away from home for so long."

"Right," Héctor said. "I agree with her. You'll still go to school here, so don't worry about that. You won't miss your friends or your family. But I feel like this is a great opportunity for you."

Miguel felt like congratulating himself for how well he was hiding his displeasure from his parents. No, displeasure was too light a word for how he was feeling. He felt like his face was about to break and shatter for how long he was holding the rictus of his earlier smile, and his heart and stomach freefalling down to his boots. He felt like he was slowly dying, and yet his parents were looking at him like they were doing this for his own good. And they were proud of it too!

Maybe it was his own fault: being so secretive about who he truly was and what his interests were. His parents didn't know who he was at all and thought he would be glad that they were practically dooming him to a fate worse than death.

Swallowing painfully, almost as if he felt like he was about to cry, Miguel croaked out. "W-well… That's… a lot to take in."

"It's just an idea, mijo." Héctor said gently, as if finally sensing that his son might not be totally ready for such a radical change in his life. "And you've got plenty of time to decide. We can talk about more in the morning alone."

"It's just that that- uh…" Miguel fumbled a little with his wristbands hidden under his sleeves. "I'm not like Matty was when he was my age. I mean… I'm more like a normal kid, you know. Not a nerd like him."

"…Hey…"

"I mean I not as smart as him. I won't be any good in a school like that."

"Don't worry about that, Miguel." Imelda said softly, placing her head gently on his head and smoothing his hair. "You'll have your family here to guide you. We'll help you every step of the way. You won't be alone."

"And to help you even more, here's another present!" Héctor said. From behind his back he pulled out a small briefcase, made from leather dyed in a brilliant shade of red, and the letters M.R. embedded on the front in solid gold. Placing in the boy's hands, Héctor smiled widely and clapped his hands with pride. "Look at that. Another businessman in the family! You look so professional already! Ha ha!"

Glancing down miserably at the briefcase, as if he were handed a live grenade instead, Miguel nodded and once more looked up at his parents with that same faked, gritting smile. "Gracias Papá… Gracias Mamá…"

"Aw, feliz cumpleaños, my boy!" Héctor said as he hugged his son happily. "And don't just thank me. Thank Chente, since this was also his idea!"

"Ohhh…." Vicente moaned, trying to ignore the way Javiar was applauding loudly next him with that stupid smug grin of his. "Please don't thank me…."

"Better watch out!" Héctor jokingly said. "One day Miguelito here will take your job out from under you!"

"…I'll do that…"

As the adults carried on with their conversation, Miguel kept looking at the briefcase in hands. It really was a beautifully designed briefcase, something that Matty probably carried around all the time and would probably love having himself, but all it did was make Miguel want to cry. This wasn't what he wanted at all. This wasn't him. And the fact that his own parents didn't see that in him, couldn't see that, broke his heart.

He would have started crying then and there until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning he saw Victoria standing next to him, giving him a look of sympathy and understanding. But also of defiance. Glancing down at the briefcase in disgust, she said, "Put that thing away and go get your guitar. Wanda and Papá will distract Abuelito and everyone else. It's showtime, Tio."

With a start Miguel looked over at the clock and gasped. All his inner turmoil had made him nearly forget about the contest! And it was in twenty minutes! With Victoria giving him an encouraging smile and a slight shove Miguel took off to the ofrenda room. Ducking underneath the tablecloth he flung the accursed briefcase underneath it and grabbed his prized guitar, feeling so much better now that it was in his hands. Glancing to his late sister's foto, and then to his Tío Nesto's, Miguel gave them a watery smile.

"Wish me luck." He whispered, and then headed out the doorway.

No one noticed he, Victoria, Matty and Coco leave the party at all.

Except for one little girl with a big mouth.

---------------------------------

Picking up a small, fried grasshopper from the bowl on the side table, he twisted it to and fro for his grandson to see. It was such a lovely surprise: Here he thought there wasn't many chapulines left for the season, and then all of a sudden Julio gifted him with a heaping bowl of the crunchy little things! Then Wanda had come up to him, saying that his grandchildren wanted to spend some time with their grandfather and to tell them stories. He was more than happy too, even if it was odd that he and the children were practically shoved into the kitchen and the door was slammed shut. But for now, with Clara babbling happily in his arm and with Charlie's rapt attention, he continued his story.

"So at the end of the day, there I was: Scratched up by dried alfalfa, bitten all over by every mosquito there ever was, and with a bag of caught grasshoppers slung over my shoulder. I took it to old Señor Perales and he would fry them up for the customers, and for my pay he would give me a handful of them on a stale tortilla. Sometimes that would be the only thing that I would get to eat for the whole day. But I didn't mind much, it was worth it for me. They're good, no?"

"They're salty." Charlie said as he crunched one with a grimace.

"Sí. Salty, crunchy and my favorite snack. And that was the first job I ever had at four years old. Your age, mijo! Grasshopper catcher extraordinaire."

"My friend Timmy likes to pick out earthworms from his Mommy's garden and eats them too, even with dirt on them! Is that the same thing, Grandpa?"

"No, your friend's just odd."

"Oh."

The sound of the door being opened caused the three of them to look, only to see Elena poking her head in. Héctor was immediately worried: His granddaughter looked very troubled, staring at the floor and lip trembling, trying to decide if she should come in or not. Shifting the baby in his arms to free his hand he held it out. "Elena? Is there something wrong?"

Nodding a little, she slowly edged her way in and closed the door. "My tummy hurts…"

"Aww, too much cake and ice cream, huh?" Héctor asked kindly, squeezing her hand when she took it. "I guess it also didn't help that your cousins gave you too much excitement as well. Well, if you want I can walk you home-"

"It's not that, Abuelito." Elena said softly. "My tummy hurts because I feel guilty."

"Guilty? Did you and your sister have a fight? Because if you said or did something to make her upset I'm sure she'll forgive you. That's what a family who loves each other does, mija. We always forgive each other with time."

Eyes widening, Elena looked up at her grandfather with a slight glimmer of hope. "Really? Family forgives each other for anything?. They don't… get really mad and hate them for it?"

"Of course not."

Elena smiled a little at that, looking like she felt a little better. Then her smile faded, and she shook her head. "No, no… Papá says that I should always do what my parents say…"

Blinking in confusion, Héctor nodded in agreement. "Uh, yes… Yes, children should do what their parents say. Your Papá's right."

"Buuuut…"

"…But?"

"But you're Mamá's papá…" Elena said slowly, nervously picking at her fingers and biting her lip hard in agitation. "So, she has to do whatever you say… right?"

Now he was growing concerned. Pulling his granddaughter close to him, Héctor made Elena look at him squarely in the eye. "Elena, if something is wrong with your Mamá you need to tell me, claro? Now, what's going on?"

"….Well…"

------------------------

"Congratulations, Señor Magallanes."

"Oh you too, Mrs. Rivera."

Chuckling and clinking their mugs of coffee, Julio and Wanda sat on the old boarded up well and each took a sip of the hot brew. They watched as the Reyes children ran around the courtyard in a wild frenzy, having woken up from their sugar comas and putting an end to their parents' moment of peace and quiet, and smiled smugly to themselves. Both because they were thankful that their own children were not as wild and rambunctious, and also for a job well done.

"Nice work on getting the fried grasshoppers so late and getting so many. I'm told they're a seasonal…delicacy." Wanda grimaced at the word.

"Gracias. And that was a nice move of giving him your kids. 'Charlie wants to hear all about you when you were his age!'" Julio chuckled at that. "It really was a nice distraction."

Wanda hummed and gave a sultry smile, gazing off into the distance. "Well, Matthew has always said that I am… a master of distraction. In more ways than one"

"…Uh, right…" Taking an uncomfortable gulp from his coffee mug and coughing awkwardly, Julio changed the subject. "So when should they be back?"

"Well Miguel is the first act." Wanda said. "So it'll start at seven, he'll sing his little song, then Matthew and Coco will bring him right back. So I guess they should be back in about half an hour? Plenty of time before anyone notices they're gone. And if they ask we'll just say he went to a friend's house."

"Thirty minutes?" Julio asked, a little downhearted at the thought. "So, he won't get to stay to see if he wins?"

Wanda nodded in sympathy. "Yes, it is a shame. But honestly do you really think he would win? I mean, I know he's very good, but he'd be going up against musicians who have been playing for much longer than he's even been alive. It seems a little unlikely, right?"

"Sí, you're right… It still would be amazing if he did, though."

"Honestly I think the poor boy just wants to be heard. Can you blame him? Especially after that… gift his parents gave him. Ugh…"

"Sí. Let him have some fun for one night." Julio nodded, bring the cup back up to take a sip. "Thirty minutes. Plenty of time. Go out, perform, come back. No one will suspect a thing."

"All will be well." Wanda agreed.

The sudden slamming of a door hitting the wall startled everyone in the courtyard. All the children skidded to a halt, the adults stopped talking immediately, and all eyes turned towards a very livid Héctor Rivera.

"MIGUEL IS GOING TO PLAY THE GUITAR IN THE PLAZA?!"

Clara started to cry in fright in her grandfather's arms, but Héctor paid her no heed as he marched up Julio and Wanda. "Elena just told me that Miguel's playing in the contest! Julio, is that true?!"

Julio stared at his father-in-law, chalk white and looking like he was about to drop dead on the spot. His mouth worked itself up and down, but all that came out was choked squeaks and croaks. "Uh-uh…uh uh…ah…uh."

With a growl, Héctor turned his glare to his daughter-in-law. "Wanda, did you know anything about this?!"

Wanda, also much whiter than usual, managed to give a nervous half smile and shrugged with a weak chuckle. "Uh… No hablo es-pan-ol?..."

"Forget it!" Héctor shouted, placing the now screaming baby in her mother's arms and turning out to the exit. "You all want to go behind my back?! Fine! I'll put a stop to this myself!"

As Héctor left the courtyard in a mad dash, Julio wilted with a moan. "No no no no! This has all gone to hell. We had one job to do and we failed even that! Matty and Coco are going to kill us!"

Wanda shook her head, trying to calm down her poor baby. "No, they won't!"

"You're right. Only Coco is going to kill only me!" Julio cried. "Elena, why did you tell Abuelito?! You promised you wouldn't!"

Elena was sobbing by now. This wasn't supposed to happen: Abuelito had said that he wouldn't be angry, that he wouldn't hate Miguel for what he did. But it was all a lie! "You don't keep secrets from family, Papá! I couldn't stand lying to Abuelito!"

"What is going on here?!"

They all turned to see Imelda, Rosita, Martín and the twins coming out of the ofrenda room, confused as to why everyone was either in shock, scared or crying their eyes out. With a sigh Wanda came up to them. "Oh, Mamá Imelda, you might as well know now. Miguel was going to play the guitar at the music competition in the plaza-"

"What?!"

"- and Papá Héctor just found out. He's going after them to stop him. I've never seen him look so mad! I think he's going to do something-"

"Stupid…" Imelda finished, hitching up her skirts to run as fast as she could in her high heeled boots. "Dios mio, Héctor! Héctor come back!"

"Oh Rosita, could you take the baby?" Wanda asked as she handed Clara to Rosita. "I need to go to! Matthew might need my help! Come on Julio, Coco needs you to!"

"Wait! Coco will need my help as well!" Rosita cried out. "Martín, mi amor, hold the baby and hold down the fort. Oscar, Felipe! Let's go!"

"Wait, what?!" Martín cried out, watching helplessly as all the adults ran out of the Rivera complex, leaving him alone with nine children all under eight years old, screaming and crying with fright. Looking at Clara in one arm and his own crying daughter in the other, Martín growled in frustration. "Oh sure! Leave all the kids with the one guy who can't run away! I see how it is! This is discrimination! I am a war veteran, I deserve some respect and a break!"

"Don't worry, Tío Martín…" Elena sadly said, taking Clara away from her uncle and holding the baby close. "I'll help you with the babies…"

"Ay, gracias Elenita." Martín sighed in relief, patting her head gratefully. "You're a good kid."

Burying her face in her little cousin's blanket, Elena tried to hide as the tears came pouring out again with her sobs. She wasn't good. She didn't deserve the praise. She deserved to be punished, not Miguel. Miguel was going to be kicked out of the family. Abuelito hated him now.

It was all her fault.

----------------------------------------

"I knew it." Miguel moaned as he, his siblings and Victoria made their way to the plaza. Clutching his guitar for dear life, as if he was afraid it would be ripped away from him, he hung is head low while Victoria guided him by his shoulders. "I knew Papá would never even consider letting me play music, he just hates it too much. I'm gonna have to play in secret for the rest of my life."

"Yeah." Victoria sighed with a pout. "I guess I'm going to have to as well. I'll never get to dance in the likes of La Scala or the Royal Opera House. I'd even settle for dancing at a rec center at this point."

"Cheer up, both of you." Matty said. "Miguel, you know Papá doesn't hate music. He just… has some hang-ups about it that is hard for him to overcome. A lot of bad things happened to him, and he attributes it to music. You understand, sí?"

"No, I don't." Miguel said. "And that's easy for you to say. Papá sang and danced with all three of you and let you play instruments. I never had that."

"That's not true, Miguel." Coco said. "Papá used to sing to you all the time, especially when he tucked you into bed. And he played his guitar for you, don't you remember that?"

"No. I was a baby, Coco."

Coco tsked and shook her head in mock sorrow. "Well that is a shame. You should remember stuff like that. I, for one, can remember stuff quite vividly all the way from when I was about two years old. It's a gift I possess."

Breaking out of his current funk, Miguel looked up at his older sister and smirked. "Gee Coco, maybe you should be the one in the talent show instead of me."

Matty barked out a laugh and nodded. "Yeah, you could tell everyone what you had for breakfast in May of 1936."

"Or recite an old shopping list you made ten years ago." Victoria added.

Coco huffed and crossed her arms with pout. "All right, all three of you can go kiss a burro."

"Well we can't do that now, because," Matty said as they rounded the corner, "we have arrived at our destination."

As they all walked into the plaza, Miguel smiled when he saw the gazebo decked out in the familiar decorations for Dia de Muertos: garlands of cempazuchitl flowers, papel picado and, most excitingly, posters for the contest. He also saw several other musicians dressed up in charro suits and practicing on their own instruments. They had probably been practicing for much longer than he ever had and were probably better than him too. But Miguel didn't care if he won or lost the contest, he just wanted to perform in front of people. To show them all that he had what it took to be a musician. And luckily for him there were plenty of people who had come to watch.

A very… large amount of people.

Practically the whole town. Even other kids from his school were there.

Suddenly Miguel felt a nauseous curl in his belly, and his breath seemed to stick in his throat. Without realizing it he took a step backwards, softly bumping into his sister, and flinched in surprise when she knelt down to speak to him.

"Miguel?" Coco asked softly. "If you're nervous you don't have to go up there."

"Wh-what?" Miguel asked, wincing when his voice gave an unexpected squeak and trying to cough it away. "Nervous? I'm not nervous!"

"You're really pale Miguel, and you started sweating bullets in less than five seconds." Victoria pointed out. "It's actually quite impressive."

"Callate!" Miguel grumbled.

"It's alright if you've changed your mind, Miguel." Coco said and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "We can just go right back to the museum, and Papá will have never known you were here."

The very mention of his father, how much he hated music, how he would be forced to play music in secret again if he backed away now, how this might actually be his last chance to perform before he was to go to that stupid business school, steeled something inside of Miguel. Straightening up, jaw clenched tight and his guitar held up like a shield, he shook his head vigorously. "No! No way! I'm gonna play in mariachi plaza if it kills me!"

"That's the spirit!" Matty said. "And good thing too because it looks like you're on now!"

"What?!"

"They're beckoning you over! Knock 'em dead and break a leg, gordito!" With a hearty slap on the back Matty propelled his little brother towards the stage. As they all watched the boy meekly walk to the contest coordinators, Matty leaned into Coco. "He can sing, right?"

Coco nodded. "Of course! He has the voice of an angel, you're going to be blown away."

"Either that or he's going to blow his dinner all over the stage floor." Victoria said.

Miguel took his place next to the steps of the gazebo, turning back to wave at the siblings and niece, who all returned it with a thumbs up. With his back turned to them again Matty sighed wistfully. "Papá would really love this. He would be so proud. If… you know…"

"If he was like he used to be?"

"Si…" Matty nodded. "It just doesn't feel the same without him here. Miguel is so much like how our father was: Filled with a love of music, bursting with creativity. Miguel may look up to Tío Nesto, but I see Papá in him more than any of us."

"You're right." Coco sighed. "I wish Papá were here to see this too."

"SOCORRO! MATEO!"

Coco and Matty immediately felt their hearts stop, blood seize up, insides clench and air leave their lungs as they heard their full names bellowed out from behind. Turning around they saw a sight they had never seen before. Héctor Rivera, normally so jovial and mild-mannered with all he encountered, marching towards them red-faced and glaring holes into their very souls. As he got closer and closer to them, Coco whispered, "Itakeitback, Itakeitback!..."

Placing himself in front of his sister and niece like a shield, Matty leaned causally on his cane and smiled shakily. "H-hola, padre! Qué tal? I d-didn't expect to see you come to the plaza today. They're having a music contest right now so you might want to go back and-"

"Would you both care to explain to me," Héctor said as he reached them, very close to seething like a bull. "why I had to hear from Elena that my son is going to play the guitar, on a stage, in front of an audience?!"

With a loud groan Matty turned to glare at Coco. "You told la Lengua Larga about the plan?!"

"I told you it was a bad idea, Mamá."

"So this was your idea!" Héctor growled as he glared at Coco. Distantly they could hear Imelda calling out as she was making her way to the plaza herself, but they all ignored her for the moment. "You're letting your brother perform? After what nearly happened to you? What did happen to your godfather?!"

Coco glared back. "What happened to Tío Nesto was terrible, but it was an accident that could have happened anywhere! It had nothing to do with music! Why can't you see that?"

"It has everything to do with what happened to him!" Héctor shouted. "And I will not have the same thing happen to my-"

"Put your hands together for our first contestant, Miguel 'De la Cruzito' Rivera!"

As a loud smattering of applause and cheers erupted, the family turned to see Miguel taking the small stage of the gazebo. Smiling nervously and waving at the crowd, he didn't seem to notice the brewing turmoil taking place amongst the audience. Héctor gritted his teeth and was about to make his way towards his son to put an end to this nonsense, when one of the nearby bands decided to strike up some intro music for the young guitarist. After all, the son of the world's greatest songwriter, the patron of Santa Cecilia, deserved a grand entrance for his musical debut.

And they couldn't have picked a worse song.

As the trumpets blasted the upbeat version of Remember Me and the audience clapped along to the beat, Matty and Coco moaned in dread and instantly went into damage control. Coco and Victoria shouted in vain over the crowd to get the musicians to stop, but their voices were lost among the deafening cheers and song. Imelda heard the song playing from the distance, and with a curse tried to run even faster to her husband. Matty grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him, trying to direct his attention to him. "Papá! Papá, listen to me. Listen to my voice. It's okay. It's just a song. Come with me, we'll get you out of here…"

It had been about a year since he had heard that song last. Not intentionally, of course, but when a song is that popular people are bound to either sing it aloud or try to play it themselves. One such incident occurred when he was out with Elena for a treat of ice cream, when suddenly he had heard it. A quite lovely rendition on a violin by that scarf-wearing kid with the weird facial hair whose named escaped him. But it was enough to do the trick. Several painful minutes of him hunched low to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands into his ears hard, trying to get his breathing under control. His own granddaughter, seven years old at the time, was forced to take action herself: Swatting that kid with her shoe in order to stop him from playing, then sitting with him silently and comfortingly until the panic had finally passed. They had both lost their ice creams on the ground that day, but the two had grown even closer due to the experience.

But those same feelings were rushing back just like that last time: Nothing had changed. Immediately his heart started hammering and it became hard to breathe, his insides squirmed and clenched painfully and those awful visions flashed in his mind again. As the song continued he didn't see his eldest son frantically trying to get his attention, but his youngest daughter wheezing her last breaths in his arms. Of Ernesto walking away from him to the stage, underneath the bell that would eventually turn him into nothing but a smear. And the blood, so much blood. He could smell it, practically taste it.

He was about to try to block out the sounds like he always did and then curl up in a ball, when he happened to glance at the stage again. Ernesto was there, about to perform with the bell perch precariously over his head. But no, that wasn't Ernesto standing there. It was-

"MIGUEL! NO!"

Breaking Matty's grip on his arms he made a run for the gazebo, pushing and shoving others out of the way. He didn't hear their exclaims of alarm and pain as they were roughly shoved aside or to the ground, nor the cries of his family as they begged him to wait, to come back. No, all he heard was that damned song playing loudly in his head, now a ticking timer to the point where, at the end, his boy would be no more.

Miguel didn't notice his father parting through the crowd at breakneck speed, too busy tugging on the emcee's sleeve to tell him to make those musicians stop playing the song 'That's the song I'm going to play.' But it was too late, and as the band played the last triumphant note he turned back to the crowd with an eye roll and hefted his guitar up to begin to play the song everyone had just heard.

Just in time to see his father diving straight for him.

Imelda reached her oldest children just in time to see Héctor tackle Miguel and send them both flying to the back of the gazebo. The incident was so shocking that aside from a large gasp from the crowd, it became so still and quiet. Quiet enough that everyone was able to hear the sickening crunch once the two of them landed in a crumpled heap.

A flash of terror made it's way down Imelda and her children's spines. "No…" she breathed, and then quickly made her way to the gazebo herself, the others following her.

The song was over, put panic was still surging through Héctor as he got up and immediately started checking over his boy. "Miguel! Are you all right?! Sit up, let me see!" He patted his body up and down, trying to see if there were any injuries, thankfully finding none. But the boy seemed shocked, and frantically he cupped the boys face to look in his eyes. "Did you hit your head? Look at me, mijo-"

"Papá…"

Miguel's eyes were widened with shock, but surprisingly the wind was not knocked out of him nor was he scuffed or marked in any way from the surprise tackle. The guitar in his hands, however, was not so lucky. It had taken the brunt of the assault and protected the boy from harm, but it had not survived. Three of the strings had snapped right off and were coiled in bent angles, the body was completely caved in from the center hole and up, and the neck had broken cleanly in half, now only connect by the remaining strings. His beloved guitar was now destroyed. His father had destroyed it.

"What-? Why?... What have you done?" Miguel whispered as he gripped the broken neck and tried in vain to get it to stick back into the position. "It's ruined…"

Héctor looked down at the broken guitar in his son's hands, taking in the cheap gold paint that had been sloppily painted all over it. The crude designs done in brown, and the headstock. That same mocking skull that looked so much like his own, except for the one personal detail that he had made for his older brother: The thin mustache above perfectly white grinning teeth. His worries and concerns over his son instantly vanished. He was fine. Now what came back was more comfortable, easier for him to handle: Rage.

"Where the hell did you learn to play guitar?!"

Miguel's attention snapped back to his father, and he shrunk back at the ferocious anger meekly. Before he was able to squeak out a pitiful answer, he felt eyes on him. Turning slightly he paled when he saw everyone in the crowd looking at him with morbid curiosity. The whole town had watched as his supposed debut had crumbled to ash, his most prized possession had been reduced to kindling, and his father was now bearing down on him about to start a very public fight.

It was all ruined. It was too much for him, and the poor boy broke.

With a choked-out cry of heartbreak Miguel flung what was left of his guitar away, shot up to his feet and fled from the gazebo. The crowd gave him enough room to make his getaway and he was grateful. He didn't want to be held back, didn't want to be touched by anyone. Especially his family. He heard his Papá angrily yelling at him to come back, his Mamá pleading with him to do so as well. But he couldn't even look at anyone right now.

He just ran and ran, broken sobs escaping as he gasped and panted.

He hated his birthday.

[pinehurst]

Unwrapping the Fourth Episode

It’s safe to say that the fourth episode absolutely destroyed the internet. Fugou Keiji was trending on Tumblr and Twitter in many countries with many others out of the loop asking, “Where exactly can I watch this anime?” This surge in popularity makes sense though as this episode had it all: the boys in casual clothes, hair down Daisuke, drunk Haru, and some quality bonding. Score one for the fangirls.

Disclaimer: This discusses the fourth episode as well as my thoughts on how the show may progress. My theories and beliefs are reminiscent of the only four episodes out at the moment so this may not be the most accurate thing out there.

Disclaimer #2: The way that I set up the entire review is more of a “live commentary” but I do offer my thoughts throughout so please bear with my rambling.

When the official Fugou Keiji team teased the fourth episode on their Twitter, I was speechless to say the least. Right off the bat, it was obvious that this episode would be much more lighthearted and relaxed than the previous episodes: Daisuke trying to survive day-to-day life without his life source? Let’s see this millionaire try to last in our shoes. This anime has a record of unveiling new information every episode, so I was interested to see how the story would progress. 

The episode opens up dramatically with Suzue running after Daisuke as he storms out of the mansion. In fact, he’s so irritated that he leaves without HEUSC or his money. Ok two things. First of all, Daisuke’s unforeseen emo side is showing. What could possibly make him want to leave that suddenly that he forgets the two things that practically define him? Secondly, Suzue addressed our beloved millionaire as “Daisuke-sama.” Wait, what? Being unfamiliar with Japanese culture, I decided to do a quick Google search as to when the honorific “-sama” is used. Wikipedia noted the following: 

Sama (様、さま) is a more respectful version for people of a higher rank than oneself or divine, toward one's guests or customers (such as a sports venue announcer addressing members of the audience), and sometimes toward people one greatly admires. 

At this point, it’s still unclear as to whether or not Daisuke and Suzue are siblings or spouses; however, it is now known that, whatever their relationship may be, Suzue holds Daisuke to a higher regard. Only three seconds have passed, no need to rush. The remainder of the episode must contain answers. 

After the opening comes to a close, Haru asks Daisuke for some help with a lost dog as he hopes to use his “magic” to trace the dog’s path. Immediately afterward though, Haru affirms that “it’s not like [he] absolutely needs [Daisuke’s] help.” It’s pretty clear from this one sentence that Haru doesn’t want to seem inferior to Daisuke. Even when asking for assistance, he doesn’t want to lower himself just to get Daisuke’s help. After all, he needs to assert that he’s got the better philosophy out of the two. 

This call does, however, represent the growth in their relationship that we ever so hoped for. The fact that Haru called Daisuke at all showcases two things. First of all, it reinforces that fact that Haru’s morals and humanistic mindset dictate his actions. He not only helped a child in his spare time (which I’m sure many people wouldn’t do) but also called his coworker (that rich boy with completely different morals) for help with assisting a troubled child. It also emphasizes something much more important for the upcoming epiosdes though: Haru is beginning to trust Daisuke more. Episode 3 already helped lay the foundation for their acquaintanceship (soon to be friendship), and this episode only works to add onto that footing. He knows that Daisuke has the resources to help others; in this sense, it may seem as though Haru is only exploiting Daisuke for the greater good, but that doesn’t lessen the fact that he feels comfortable enough to even think of Daisuke as an option.

Once again though, Daisuke and Haru’s views clash when dealing with this child. Haru is determined to help this poor child whereas Daisuke blatantly states that “looking for a dog isn’t a police officer’s job.” This entire situation did teach us a little bit more about Daisuke’s personality though. He’s easily swayed by a child’s tears as he reluctantly agreed to help once the child wept crocodile tears of grief. Even though he is generally unconcerned, anyone would feel guilty leaving a poor child alone. As Haru put it, “[he’s] a human being after all.” 

We also learn that Daisuke likes to do his work swiftly and quickly if the past episodes didn’t already emphasize that. He interrupted the child, who we learn is named Tsuyoshi Nomura, asking him where his house is located. The entire time it’s clear that Daisuke oh-so-dearly wants to finish up this business. He even convinced the child that the dog returned home, indifferent to whether or not that may be true. When Haru called him out, Daisuke smirked, “That has nothing to do with me.” Even if he feels guilty, that doesn’t mean he should waste his precious energy trying to help find a lost dog. He may even regard it as trivial. 

The episode cuts back to Suzue as we see another side to her that the previous episodes failed to display: her obsesssion with Daisuke. I know what some of you may be thinking, and yes at first I thought that “obsessed” was too strong of a word too. The exact definition of obsessed is to “preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.” Nevermind, Suzue definitely fits this definition. She scattered messages all throughout town, watching Daisuke’s every move. My favorite message of all though was the one in front of the grocery store: “I am eagerly waiting for your return.” Emphasis on the eagerly. That gave me a good laugh; she is so devoted to Daisuke to the extent that she’d give up sleep just to ensure his wellbeing.

Suzue, however, did give us an insider’s look at Daisuke’s life. The fact that she was in utter dismay when she found out that Daisuke left his precious wallet behind goes to show that Daisuke depends on his money to indulge in his everyday activities. Even though we already knew that, Suzue’s reaction really put emphasis on the fact that this was going to be a new and maybe even tough experience for Daisuke to endure. He is pampered by his family, with Suzue worrying about trivial things such as the fact that maybe he “didn’t like the patterns on his shirt”or that she “upgraded his shoes from +5 centimeters to +7 centimeters.” The fact that that put a dent in their relationship made it all the better since it just goes to show that Daisuke is so conditioned to having everything done for him that a sudden shift in behavior wrecks havoc. 

It shifts back to Haru and Daisuke shopping, something that I never realized I needed until now. Daisuke’s spoiled side shows once more as he questions why Haru doesn’t just let others do the shopping for him. Running errands? Pathetic. Let someone else do them for you. 

Now this is where the million dollar question is answered: what exactly is Suzue to Daisuke? After being questioned by Haru, it’s finally revealed that Suzue is, in fact, Daisuke’s relative. This is where fifty questions popped into my mind, all of them being “Huh?” Suzue is clearly devoted to him on an incomprehensible level, but to be a relative? After much thought and a quick scroll through the Discord servers, someone mentioned a website that got my attention. One website, Nakasendoway, stated the following: 

“A main or stem family might have affiliated to it branch families. Each branch family at some time might itself, while maintaining its subordinate position to the main family, become the stem family to several branches. Thus, a well-established, well-organized, and rich family could become extremely large.” 

Aha! Now this is something I can get behind! This would explain her sincere devotion to Daisuke and why she referred to him as “-sama.” This doesn’t, however, really explain why Daisuke is holding her in the opening with such passion. Or maybe it does explain everything and I’m just not processing it correctly. I mean it is midnight at the time that I’m writing this and maybe I just need some sleep. Nevertheless I believe that there’s still more depth to Daisuke and Suzue’s relationship that hasn’t been explained yet. Maybe it’ll be explained in the future episodes in the midst of some event that reminds Daisuke of his backstory (that was briefly mentioned at the beginning of episode 1).

Anywho, back to the episode. Daisuke stays over Haru’s house, where he is shocked by the lack of grandeur. That apartment is where he lives? Not some grand mansion? Wild. Ah the adventures that occurred in that tiny apartment sure were grand though. We are once again reminded of Daisuke’s lavish life when he accidentally cuts himself. He immediately requests for a first-aid kit and when Haru makes the grand reveal that he doesn’t actually have one, Daisuke is forced to almost lower his standards. How is he going to heal himself? Why, he’s going to lick his cut! He is away from the comfort of his home so he must accommodate to his needs by doing going through the “harder,” more economical approach. He is finally starting to have a taste of the real world, outside the comfort of his own home.

After this scene is the moment we all have been waiting for: hair-down Daisuke with an oversized hoodie. All I can say is yes. Daisuke once again rediscovers his love for commoner’s food as he chowed on Haru’s recipes. This was wonderful bonding between the two as Haru tried to satisfy Daisuke’s wealthy plate and even taught him a few recipes. The two even watched a show together. Now this is where I believe foreshadowing will take its course.

The show that they’re watching follows a humanistic detective (with attire similar to Haru’s) arguing with his boss (whose attire is similar to Daisuke’s). The detective insists that they act on some case without affirmation from the higher-ups, but his superior refuses to budge. Later on, it’s revealed that this boss dies from a gunshot. Now I theorize that something similar will happen between Haru and Daisuke. Besides the similar attire between the two, the opening also shows Daisuke disappearing before a gun’s line of sight. Maybe this disappearance symbolizes that Daisuke may get shot or even suffer from severe injuries in the later episodes. Whatever it may be, I doubt any of the (relevant) characters will die since they play important roles and I just don’t see Fugou Keiji as the type of anime to do so (now this is obviously subjective but it’s just my opinion).

We are also let into Haru’s internal struggle: the difficulty of balancing their roles as heroes and civil servants. This practically relates to his philosophy as he would do anything to save anyone, carrying heroic acts of kindness and service. He is definitely the type to disobey orders in the name of justice, but in doing so he would be tarnishing his reputation as a civil servant. He wouldn’t be doing as his job wishes, and wouldn’t that be a crime in itself? Not doing what your superiors, who supposedly know better, and all. 

Haru and Daisuke part ways after the night together comes to a close. Haru’s off helping that child find his lost dog while Daisuke is out doing whatever he must. All hope is lost when Haru and the child just can’t seem to find the dog. But surprise! Acting as a beacon of hope, a light that came amidst darkness, Daisuke appears holding a dog leash with a dog attached to it! Oh how the tables have turned. Daisuke now decided to help find the dog. It became his obligation to find the dog now. Maybe Haru used his own magic and caused Daisuke to have a change in mindset over night. Maybe he finally came to realize that it’s worth the trouble to help others. Or maybe he had nothing better to do and decided to do his job without his display of wealth. No matter the reason, Daisuke still helped out. He still did what he didn’t want to do in the beginning of the episode. Ah how we love a change in mindset.

Daisuke finally returns home after two eventful days. The first thing he does when he returns? He recreates the “Kato family recipe” for Suzue, and he is very clearly satisfied with the result. After spending the night together, Haru served Daisuke natto for breakfast (love the recurring theme here) in the form of some sacred family meal. Daisuke replicated this recipe for his family WITH the natto. Oh how we love character development! He concluded by saying something along the lines of “It’s called the Devil’s Natto Recipe.” I found it kind of cute how he referred to Haru as a devil considering it was his recipe. It really shows that they still recognize their differences despite becoming closer over time. It’s safe to say operation friendship was a success as the episode comes to a close.

In my opinion, this episode’s sole purpose, besides showing us their lives away from work, was to help Daisuke get out of his little bubble as he was exposed to the real world. He no longer had Suzue’s welcoming warmth nor the unlimited wealth that his wallet provided. Rather, he was put in a situation where he had no money and was thrown into the “working class” for the first time ever. He would have had to scrap by if it weren’t for Haru. Heck, Haru paved the way for Daisuke’s character development as he taught him how to make inexpensive recipes and save money. 

However, this episode also raised the question: “Is Suzue going to merely be a comic relief character?” This episode really just utilized Suzue for the laughs as she’s presented as a character who’s overly worried about her dear relative. Personally I view this episode as a much more lighthearted one so of course Suzue would be much more exaggerated. At the same time, it introduced her devotion for Daisuke, unveiling an important plot point. This may make it less shocking if she does end up putting her life at risk for Daisuke’s sake. This certainly explains why she didn’t mind trying to swoon the smuggler in the second episode. Nevertheless I believe that she will be of utmost importance in the future, helping to turn the gears of story development through her gadgets. Her sincere devotion to Daisuke will most likely still serve as comic relief, but it won’t undermine her other characteristics.

As for how the series will progress, personally I believe that the future episodes will have more of an overarching plot and follow a more serious storyline, as we still need to see Daisuke and Haru confront the struggles fettering them down. It seems as though the anime wants to first develop a solid relationship between the two main protagonists before any sort of angst occurs.  

Edit: The Fugou Keiji team confirmed in a commentary article that things went downhill between Daisuke and Suzue because of the shoes. Love that!  

[sagesparrow394]

Do I already have 2 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory AUs?

Yes

Is that gonna stop me from making another?

HELL FREAKING NO

Okay! So! Our boi Tommy is the Willy Wonka of this universe. Started making candy when he was 12, made it a business when he was only 15, had his huge factory by the time he was only 17. Our dude knew what he was doing with his life and was shooting straight (which is shocking for him) for his dreams.

Then spies infiltrated. Thomas was only 20, but had to deal with the biggest disaster of his career. He panicked and closed the factory down.

For a month.

You see, in that month of shutting himself away in the factory, he got lonely. Extremely so. And that loneliness mixed with his extraordinary imagination manifested in the form of six beings to keep him company, who are all physical personifications of different aspects of his personality.

The ‘Sides’, as he started calling them, took over the roles of Thomas’ fired workers, and the factory got up and running again. More and better candies than ever before started being sold.

Over the next five years, that’s how things went. Life was, well, sweet.

Then, when he was 25, he and the Sides made a plan to do something bold: open the factory again. They’d set up a competition to find tickets to come on a tour around the factory.

Five guys around Thomas’ age all won them:

Aaron, a competitive eater from Germany.

Robert, the son of a very rich CEO from London.

Cooper, world-record-holding gum chewer from Georgia.

Shayne, a game developer from LA.

And, finally, Robin, who was very poor, and lived in the same town as the Sanders Factory.

On the tour, things didn’t go quite to plan. Aaron fell in the chocolate river and was sucked up the pipe. Patton left the tour to help him. Cooper tried the defective three-course-meal gum and swelled into a blueberry. Logan left the tour to help him. Robert got pushed down the garbage shoot. Roman left the tour to help him. Shayne got shrunk in the Sandersvision room. Virgil went to help him.

This left Thomas, Deciet, Remus, and Robin. Thomas was freaking out by this point. The tour was a disaster! A complete failure! Almost all the guests had been hurt!

Deceit and Remus, however, they - for some reason - looked pleased. Deceit took Thomas’ arm, while Remus took Robin’s.

“Come on, lets get you two ready.”

“Huh? Ready for wha- Hey, wait, where are you two taking us?!”

Deceit and Remus drag Thomas and Robin away and into the elevator. When they arrive at a corridor, the two drag them off into different rooms.

Thomas finds himself being dressed into a white gown by Deceit, while Remus gets Robin in a tux. Neither of them are given the chance to ask questions.

Once he’s dressed, Robin is taken to another room. The other Sides in suits, as well as the other tour members, are all there. They’re sat in seats facing the front of the room, where Roman is stood.

Remus brings Robin to stand at the front of the room by Roman, before taking a seat with the others.

Then the door opens slightly. Deceit comes in, and nods to Patton, before sitting down. Patton steps outside. Then music starts, and Patton comes back in, leading Thomas down the aisle.

What’s going on finally hits Thomas and Robin. The two of them are too dumbfounded to speak until Thomas is stood before Robin, and Roman begins to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these men in holy matrimo-“

“What the hell is going on?!” Thomas cries.

Roman turns to Remus and Deceit. “You didn’t tell him?”

Deceit shrugs. “Due to the incidents during the tour, we were behind schedule. We didn’t get the chance. We just had to hope he’d say ‘I do’.”

“Why the heck are you trying to marry us?!” Thomas growls.

Roman sighs. “Look. Tommy. There are seven of us to run an entire factory. It is really stressful. And you’re not going to be around forever. When your time comes, you won’t have anyone to carry on your work. And given as you never leave, you weren’t going to find anyone to adopt a child with any time soon. So... We decided to run this tour in the hopes of finding you a match made in chocolate. And well, Robin here... the two of you seemed to get along wonderfully. And unlike the others, he listened to you. He admires you, respects you. He loves the factory, and he has the smarts to survive a day in this place. So...”

“So it was only logical the two of you come together, and raise an heir to continue your work when you pass away,” Logan finishes.

Thomas buries his face in his hands. “Oh god, this is so embarrassing... why did none of you tell me any of this?! Heck, why did I not even know about it, you’re in my head!”

Virgil was the next to speak. “You did know.”

“... What?”

“You just said it yourself. We’re in your head. Ideas we have are just ideas you came up with yourself, even if you never realised it because you were doing it subconsciously.

“The truth is, Thomas, you’re lonely. Really really lonely. You have us, but... we’re pretty much imaginary. We’re not real people to talk to. You want a companion more than anything. And... you were willing to do anything to get one.”

Thomas blinked... before sinking to the floor, tears in his eyes. “You’re right... Oh god...” He looked up at Robin and all the other winners. “God, I’m so sorry... Everything that’s happened is my fault... f-for being selfish...”

The five ticket winners all shared glances, all feeling sorry for the broken chocolatier. Robin finally broke the silence. “Thomas? The button in the elevator, the one that said Up and Out... does that do what I think it does?”

“Um... Y-yeah, I guess...”

Robin took Thomas’ hand and pulled him to his feet. He turned back to the Sides. “Can you change us back into casual clothes?”

Roman clicks his fingers, and both of them change back to casual clothes. Robin nods to the other four winners, gesturing them to come with him.

They all go out to the elevator, and the Sides sink out to the mindscape.

When they get in the elevator, Robin explains his idea.

“We need to get you out and socialising, Thomas, and I think all of us need a pick me up after everything that’s happened today. So, I have an idea: we’ll spend the rest of the day with each of us taking each other to their favourite places.”

And so, they go off. Aaron takes them to a museum, revealing that before he got into competitive eating, he really enjoyed history. Cooper takes them to his favourite theme park, loving the adrenaline rush of the rides. Robert takes them to a petting zoo he visited as a child, and admits to not wanting to take on the family business in the future, wanting to work with animals instead. Shayne takes them to comic con, his favourite part of online communities being meeting others who share his interests and passions. And, finally, Robin takes them to his home.

A bond forms between all the tour members and Thomas as the day goes by. By the end of it, Thomas doesn’t want to let these new friends go. And they don’t want to let Thomas go either.

And that’s how they all decided to move into the factory with Thomas - and how, a few months later, Thomas got not just one boyfriend, like the Sides had been planning, but five.

[shyly-yours]

not too obvious

notes: was inspired by a reddit snapshot. it’s really quite adorable.

---

“Quick, let me hold your hand!”

“Sora, I’m eating lunch--”

“I only have five minutes to feel everybody’s hand before I have to make my next delivery!”

Lea put down his chopsticks inside the Cheeto’s bag he was holding. He wasn’t five anymore and did not appreciate cheesy powder clinging to his clean hands. “First, gross. Second, do I even--hey!”

Sora took Lea’s free hand and interlaced their fingers in a firm hold for several seconds. The hungry man learned the best tactic to any Sora brand shenanigans was to let it play out, and then bail when it looked like government enforcement got involved. “I would say you should buy me dinner first, but I kind of think Riku would have a problem with his boyfriend of four years taking out his ex-lover on a date.”

“No, this isn’t right either,” Sora mumbled and then sighed while letting Lea go. “I’ve held at least a hundred hands today and none of them are right!”

Shaking out his released digits, Lea set down his Cheeto’s, leaned forward on the table they were currently occupying, placed his elbows on the surface, and put his head onto his folded hands. “Well, if we’re doing hand counts now--instead of bodies--I can positively say you’ve actually one upped me for once. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve done Kairi, Ventus, Roxas, Terra, and Xehanort--”

“Maybe, check, check, check, and what the fuck.”

“--and none of them feel right.” Sora ruffled his spikes as he sighed. “Why are you the only one here? I was hoping to feel Isa’s hand before he left for band practice. Did he leave already?!”

“It’s a holiday, dumbass. How did you even get in here? The shop isn’t open--waaait, did you make copies of the key I gave you years back?”

“There’s no time for questions, Lea! It’s imperative you tell me where Isa is!!”

“I’m not telling you where my other half is if you’re just going to molest him like you did me.”

“What?! I did NOT--”

“Sora? What are you doing here?” Namine’s sweet voice asked from the break room doorway. “Doesn’t Riku have a show tonight? You’re usually with him when he does.”

“Let me hold your hand!”

----

There was a talent show at a convention Sora took Riku to that one time. They were dressed as popular video game characters that Riku had no clue about, but he would do just about anything for Sora (well, okay, he would do anything for Sora), and they received positive comments everywhere they went. Therefore, it was easy for Sora to persuade Riku into a duet to “give the people what they want”. It was a wonderful memory Riku cherished very much. 

He has to remind himself that Sora didn’t orchestrate Riku being discovered by an attending talent agency representative. Riku thought it was a joke at first--he was a good singer, but he didn’t think it would necessitate things like recording contracts or publicity interviews. He wasn’t so far gone into stardom that he needed a bodyguard to protect him from invading paparazzi. He was in that sweet spot of having gained enough notoriety to be recognized once or twice while buying toilet paper with his cute boyfriend at the local supermarket. 

It’s just... most of the good things to happen in Riku’s life are usually associated with Sora. It took him a while to recognize self sabotage and learning to take time-outs when haunting thoughts resurfaced before old habits reverted him back to a person Riku didn’t like. Sora met him at this stage in his life--a chapter where Riku looked at gift horses in the mouth and manipulated the situation into a disaster before anybody else could ruin it. Despite fading into a toxic shell, Sora remained his friend, eventually a best friend, and coaxed Riku back “into the light” where Sora knew he belonged. Such a genuine person deserved somebody who didn’t occasionally hiccup, right?

“So when are you planning on asking him?”

Riku and Kairi sat side-by-side on the edge of the amphitheater stage. “You don’t think it’s too soon to ask him to marry me?”

Kairi shoved Riku’s shoulder with hers and said in a disbelieving tone, “Are you seriously asking my opinion about whether or not you should ask Sora, our impulsive and reckless and dearly beloved Sora who you have been dating and living with for a while now--”

“Only because I was getting evicted!”

“--who, might I also add, has been deeply in love with you since the day you two first met--”

“You just said he’s impulsive and reckless. I don’t know if I’ve been complimented or insulted.”

“--and whether or not you should marry him?”

Kairi stared.

“...the jury’s still out?”

And then smacked Riku upside the head.

----

What’s fascinating about the world of Sora is that he inherently knows when the time is right. His mother always told him to follow his heart when it came to the facts of life and making tough choices. Leaving Destiny Islands behind was an internal struggle, but a necessary change as Sora felt the universe calling him elsewhere. He made new friends, reunited with other adventuring islanders, and eventually landed in the energetic hubbub of Radiant Garden.

This is where he met Riku, one of the adventuring islanders Sora was surprised existed (although now he knows better than think he was the first to venture away from Destiny Islands). It wasn’t obvious then, but Sora’s heart knew Riku would always be a part of his life. Now to find the correct hand measurement for the ring he wanted to buy to further cement Riku’s permanency in his world.

“I’m really exhausted trying to find Cinderella’s shoe--”

“We made a list of code words, Sora, and you’re still sticking to this one?!”

“--and I’m not going to give up until I find the right hand, but Aqua I’m really starting to freak out here. LOOK OUT I’M COMING THROUGH!”

Sora threw his cellphone into the bicycle basket in order to put both of his hands onto the handlebars for better swerve control. Exclamations and shocked shouts were hollered in his direction both from walking pedestrians and his mobile. Sora was never meant to multitask at any capacity no matter his stubbornness to improve his lack of skill. Riku said Sora must have been born under a new moon to have been inhibited with so much chaos. 

“SORA! What’s happening?!”

Out of harms way and coming up to his final destination, Sora plucked his cell out of the basket and resumed his conversation. “Sorry, Aqua! Yen Sid’s Bao buns have been really popular today and he called me in to help with deliveries before Riku’s concert tonight!”

Aqua sighed in disapproval. “I really wish you wouldn’t talk and drive, Sora.”

“It hasn’t been that bad today! I only crashed once and it was smooth sailing up until just a minute ago.”

“So let’s reset the accident calendar to ‘zero days since last incident’, shall we?”

“Can we focus on what’s really important right now?”

“Oh! You mean you don’t want to discuss the state of your health and well-being? Because I have a mountain of evidence that says there should have been an intervention weeks ago.”

It was Sora’s turn to sigh. “Okay, I hear you Aqua! I need to take better care of myself! No need to mother hen me into an early grave.”

“I love you, Sora, but how does that even make sense?”

“Listen,” Sora grabbed the last take-out bag, walked up to the townhouse front door, and knocked. “I haven’t found a hand that resembles Riku’s and if I don’t get the ring size for the jeweler soon, tonight will be ruined. Well, not ruined-ruined because Riku is perfect and wonderful and his show is going to be GREAT but, like, I want to be married to him already, Aqua!”

The last part of Sora’s tirade came out whiny and the person who answered his knock heard every single syllable. “Um...”

“Oh! Hello, my name’s Sora and I’m your delivery service today! Oh behalf of Heavenly Buns we thank you for your order!”

“I thought you were joking when you said that was the name of Yen Sid’s restaurant,” Aqua mumbled to herself.

The patron smiled at Sora’s enthusiasm. “Awesome! I paid over the app already, but, um, give me a sec to get get you a tip.”

Already on the edge of despair from time’s harsh reality, Sora glanced at his wristwatch (anniversary gift) and said, “It’s totally okay! Your thanks is enough!”

“No, no, no, I have my wallet nearby. I used to work as a pizza delivery guy and I know how hard this job can be,” the customer said. He grabbed his food and left to find the aforementioned wallet leaving Sora to awkwardly stand on his doorstep.

“It’s nice to know there’s still decent people around,” his phone crackled. 

Biting his lip nervously, Sora sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m really anxious about getting his ring in time and, well...”

“I’m listening.”

“...him saying yes.”

Sora couldn’t see her, but Aqua has been his confident throughout this excursion and he knew she was softly smiling. “Sora... do you want me to list all of the reasons why he is going to say yes to you like Kairi? Or do you want me to sprout endless quips like Lea until you finally get it knocked into your brain?”

“Um, how about some mother henning like Aqua?” It was Sora’s worst kept secret that he gravitated towards his friends that had strong maternal qualities when he had an episode. It was his quiet way of remembering his mother who passed two years earlier.

Sora heard a change of background noise and the click of a door shutting. He imagined Aqua stepped outside of her house as she tended to do that to better focus on serious conversations. “I may not have known you two from the beginning of your relationship, but I rarely see a person look at you the way Riku does every time you’re both in the same room together, Sora. You might not notice, but Riku is always making sure you’re comfortable first before he takes care of his own needs. He’s a dependable young man that cherishes the heart you have given him and he will always protect it from harm. It actually makes me jealous you found somebody that compatible in midst of your uncontrollable life.”

Rubbing at his eyes, Sora released a surprised laugh. Shakily, he said, “Riku worked hard to become the person he is now. He just needed somebody to believe in him to start creating the future he has now. I mean, he’s going to the next biggest pop star, Aqua! I can’t let him be tied down with me when his career hasn’t even started yet!”

“You’re doing it again, Sora.”

“...doing what?”

“Not believing in you. He won’t say no because he suddenly has a new life ahead of him. He’ll only say no if this isn’t something you want. Which, by the way ding-dong, are you already forgetting how passionate you were about wanting to be ‘married to him already’?”

“But what if he doesn’t want this?!”

“Then you will come to my place and we will hash it out over some moscato while Kairi and Lea wreak hell upon his person until he see’s sense again.”

“I don’t want him forced into marrying me, Aqua! That’s got to be illegal in several countries if not all of them!”

A throat cleared behind Sora. “Uh,” it was the customer back with the promised munny. “That sounds like a really interesting conversation you got going on there, buddy.”

Sora turned red in embarrassment. “Well, uh...” in for a penny, in for a pound. “Just, y’know, having an internal crisis about whether or not my almost famous boyfriend wants to settle down with,” Sora paused and gestured to himself, “this.”

Caught in the moment with this exchange of words, Sora barely heard Aqua on his phone, “I know you just didn’t call yourself a ‘this’. That is the equivalent of ‘it’ and you are worth so much more than that.”

The client clearly had no idea what to do. “Oh, well, um, good luck with that?” He shoved his fistful of munny at Sora. “And here! Thank you again for the delivery!”

Sora looked at the patron’s outstretched hand and froze.

“...Are you... are you okay?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“...What?”

“Your hand! Can I hold it just for a quick second, please? I promise this isn’t for something weird--well, it’s a weird request, yes I know, because you don’t know me--well, you kind of do because I told you my name, but I don’t know yours! What’s your name? WAIT, that’s not important right now!  Please help me propose to my boyfriend who I love very much?!” Sora looked at the guy with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. Considering the emotional rollercoaster he has been through recently it didn’t take much effort on his part.

The guy’s eyes widened as he considered calling for help. “Look, can you please just take the munny and go? My buns are getting cold.”

“I’ll pay for your dinner if you just hold my hand for a few seconds, sir, and I promise you’ll never see or hear from me again! Unless you wanna be friends!!”

“...Okay, I guess?”

Relieved, Sora set his phone down onto the townhouse banister and reached for his wallet to pull out munny. Elsewhere, Aqua facepalmed in exasperation. Sora was a sweet kid, truly, but his eccentric approach to life is why Lea purchased the accident calendar to go next to the tally marks of how many new friends Sora makes in a week. Sometimes their group makes bets.

Aqua smiled when she heard Sora’s shout of excitement on the other end of the line (and casually overlooked the distressed sound from the ex-pizza man).

----

note: part one of two...?

[braveskyered]

Knights (Part 11)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

I got the harder times behind us…

Part 11: Hope Trouble Never Finds Us

- - - - - - -

Fingers moved across the keyboard, typing words and looking through various searches while working on some documents.

Thought back to the time before everything went sour. Knew something was wrong, but didn’t do anything to stop it. Filled with shame ever since it was realized just how much impact that person left them. Mother made it very clear how disappointed she is when it was discovered what actually happened.

A sigh. Decided to take a moment to look though something unrelated to work. Checked through articles that long distance friends had posted, browsing through them mindlessly until one post caught attention.

It can’t be… could it?

A hand trembled as it hovered above the keys.

“Ma-… Ma… kuh…!”

- - - - - - -

Arthur could hardly contain his grin as he waited for the children to come home.

The twins managed to graduate out of high school early, and best of all, they got accepted as students at the Cantabile Institute of Technology thanks to the prosthetic arm they made. An arm that could allow the wearer to feel things without it being to heavy on the body. The fact that two young kids had successfully made such an invention with feedback from Arthur was astonishing enough for a newspaper article to be made, which Elaine clipped out and framed.

The first model of the arm had been given to Arthur to test the functions, and both he and Elaine were ecstatic when he actually felt things through his left hand again. Granted, it wasn’t the same back when he still had his real arm, but it was feeling nonetheless. The tears of joy he shed was no doubt something his family will never forget, especially after Elaine recorded his reaction. He tried to get her to delete it, but Elaine refused.

“Nope~! It’s not everyday I see the star of my life be so happy!”

Best of all, it’s October 13th, the children’s birthday! Gwen and Percy will turn fourteen today, and Vivian be three. Oh, how time flies! Not only will Arthur get to celebrate his older children getting accepted into a place where their skills will be pushed to the limit and then some, but also celebrate another year of being with his family.

As always, he repeated the same mantra whenever his children reach a milestone.

You are okay, Arthur. This is your life now. Live for Gwen and Percy. Live for Vivian. Defy those who wanted your life to end, and live on. You matter to someone, and they need you. You are okay.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Arthur went back to his beloved’s side.

While Caelia is keeping the kids in the dark by taking them out clothes shopping, Arthur and Elaine worked hard to put up the birthday decorations in a guest room in Niniane’s mansion. The old woman wanted to make it a milestone birthday, both for the twins to get into a university, and for Vivian to reach the age of three as a rite of passage based on what her father had done for her back when he was alive. Arthur isn’t really sure what she meant, but he shrugged it off and decided to ask her later.

Eleanor came by later with her two daughters Phoebe and Rhetta, bringing in multiple presents wrapped and labeled and ready to be ripped open. Morgan’s husband Miles soon came by and brought the four cakes that will be used to celebrate the birthday, while Eleanor’s husband Nicholas arrived some time later with bottles of soft drinks and some more presents.

Vivienne, whose age started to get the better of her, finally arrived with Morgan. Shortly before Vivian was born, Vivienne had to start using a wheelchair, which Arthur took the time to carefully build and customize just for her at the time. Thankfully, her mind is still intact, and thus she is able to continue being the matriarch of the Knights family.

(Caelia once mentioned that the title of matriarch will be passed down to her eventually, even though she feels Morgan deserves the role more. Morgan in turn would retort that Caelia deserves the title, since despite being the older sister, she doesn’t have a monster form, and made Caelia drop the subject.)

Because all three of his children share the same birthday, combined with the fact that Vivian is still a toddler, it was decided that they make individual cakes for them. Gwen and Percy would share one cake (they insisted), while Vivian would have a smaller one made specially for her. The other two cakes were primarily extra for the rest of the family to eat. After all, you can’t truly celebrate a birthday without having at least one slice of cake!

Elaine got a text from Caelia saying that she and the kids are on their way home. Upon hearing this, Arthur and everyone else started getting ready for the surprise. The many presents are set in a pile, and the cakes are in place. Elaine then got a text from Caelia saying that she’ll enter the door first as planned, then have the kids come in right after.

“You have the poppers ready?”

“I do. You got the streamers?”

“Yep. Who’s got the hats?”

“Get ready, guys. Mom’s coming first, then the kids.”

Right on cue, Caelia came in through the door, gave Arthur and Elaine a nod, then gestured to the three outside.

“SURPRISE!”

“Waugh!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOU THREE!”

“Mom, not cool!” Gwen was scrambling her arms to get the streamers out of her hair, yet she’s smiling.

“Aw, man, you guys scared Vivian!” Percy looked down, showing more concern for his little sister than the surprise party itself.

Speaking of which, Vivian is curled on the floor, her hands over her head, looking like she’s about to cry. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle as he kneeled down to comfort her, the little girl clinging to his shirt in response before observing her surroundings.

“Happy Third Birthday, Vivian,” Arthur smiled as he slid a party hat on his daughter’s head while minding her long hair, “It’s a special day for you, and your big brother and sister.”

Vivian looked up at him, still looking a little scared, but upon seeing the many birthday decorations and all her relatives, she started to perk up and turned to Elaine, “Thir…?”

“That’s right, Vivian. Third,” Elaine giggled and held up three fingers, “You’re three now, three years old. You’re becoming a biiiig girl. Happy Birthday!”

The surprise birthday party, despite the rough start, has been a huge success. Photos of the birthday kids were being taken with family members, the birthday song has been sung, and the three were tearing through the presents like there’s no tomorrow.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to get for Gwen and Percy at first, but eventually settled for the newest game system and a handful of games he managed to pick up at a discount as the first set. Well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to play some of the games himself. The most recent Super Smash Bros. came out just a few months ago, after all. The second set of presents for the twins were some advanced parts for their recent projects. While Arthur and Elaine weren’t exactly sure what the twins will do with them, but Arthur knew that each part will have their uses since they experiment so much.

There were many other presents, that ranged from clothes to tools and from toys to games. While Gwen and Percy were admiring the various parts and tools they received, Vivian constantly snuggled her new plush toy modeled after a white fox sitting on its hind legs. …or was it a dog? Arthur couldn’t really tell, since Niniane is the one who brought it, but at least Vivian is happy with it. Arthur then recalled the two stuffed animals the twins keep in their rooms, Gwen’s gray turtle and Percy’s orange alpaca. Has it really been eleven years since he gave those toys to the twins on their third birthday? Time sure does fly quickly.

Speaking of quickly…

“They’re tearing through the presents fast,” Arthur turned to Elaine, “We better get the rest of them.”

“I’m on it, my knight,” Elaine kissed his cheek, “Keep an eye on Vivian?”

He nodded and chuckled softly. Her kisses are always so sweet…

After Elaine left the room, Arthur knelt down next to Vivian to watch her admire her new toy. The three-year-old poked at the ears and tail the fox (dog?) has, gave them light tugs, squeezed the legs with her small hands, then went back to hugging it. Seeing his youngest child examining the toy like that made him smile, happy that she is curious.

…Happy that he is able to celebrate her birthday with her.

“Dad-dee.”

“You took what should have been mine.”

…No. He can’t think about it. He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Dad-dee?” Vivian looked up before reaching an arm out to him, her face showing a beaming smile, “Dad-dee.”

Smiling a little, Arthur wrapped his arms around Vivian. Even now, he finds it hard to believe that he is responsible for her existence, for Gwen and Percy’s existence. The fact that he is married to a woman who loves him dearly, that he is a father to three amazing children who also love him dearly.

That he is happy. Happy and safe.

Granted, the nightmares of the wraith, kitsune, and demon still come and go, but all he has to do is wake up and he would find Elaine beside him. Even now, he still wondered what he did to deserve her, but then her words would echo in his mind. Words that she made sure to repeat at least once every day.

“I love you, my star.”

Come to think of it, Elaine is taking a while. Concerned, he stood up while keeping Vivian in his hold. As Vivian started to babble about something, Arthur walked to the doorway and called out to his beloved, “Elaine?”

“I’m coming!”

Within seconds, Elaine came out from the room where the other presents were kept while holding three of the presents, two large and one small, in her arms. Arthur noticed that her fingers were a little tense, her right arm skeletal with a spectral glow like she does when she fights monsters.

“Sorry about that, my knight. There was a little… uninvited guest that tried to crash the party,” Elaine shrugged with an assuring smile, “I know you don’t like having them around, so I made sure it went bye bye.”

Arthur felt unnerved upon hearing that. A ghost? Shouldn’t Niniane’s home be full of protections that prevent exactly that from happening? Elaine didn’t seem too concerned, and she has done this before in their house, so he didn’t have a reason to doubt her, but…

“Pre-sanssss?” Vivian babbled before dropping her stuffed animal. She looked down and whined, trying to reach for it.

Right, birthday first, ask questions later. Arthur repeated that thought in his head as he knelt down to pick up the toy to give back to his daughter. This isn’t the time to have doubts, and he promised himself that this would be an ideal birthday for the kids. He owed them that much. The nightmare from last night isn’t real.

- - - - - - -

Arthur felt the wraith dragging him away by clenching his throat with a burning hand. He has trouble breathing, the pain in his neck indescribable.

His whole being hurt, his energy sapped away. The cuts and bruises spread all over from being slammed against a wall multiple time before being dragged to another place he couldn’t identify. His head pounded furiously, yet the blood that rushed into his head had been lost, allowing him to think more clearly slightly, yet unable to fully register the pain since he felt so numb. He has trouble seeing. The blood coming down from his forehead and the tears in his eyes didn’t make it any easier.

It’s what he deserved, though. Because sorry isn’t good enough. He shouldn’t have ran away from the past. He couldn’t run away from the wraith’s desires. Not after what he did.

“Where are they.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. The wounds on his neck made it too painful to speak, let alone breathe. Even if he could talk, there is no way Arthur will allow the wraith to take his children as its own playthings.

“Where are they?!”

The wraith slammed him against the ground upon demanding. Arthur barely felt what seemed to be plush carpet on the fingertips of his right hand, but his head felt like it was slammed against a hard surface. His vision began to darken and blur. He barely curled his lips into a smirk for a split second, as if attempting to talk.

Well, all that monstrous wraith did was make it harder for Arthur to give it the answer it sought. Then again, the children aren’t anywhere nearby. He knew they were hidden and safe.

The wraith slashed at him, shredding his left arm into tiny unsalvageable little pieces with some blood mixed in. Arthur didn’t have the energy to scream in pain anymore, not when the left side of his face had also been clawed at, blinding his left eye.

“You took what should’ve been mine.”

He’s aware. Painfully.

Heh.

The clawed hands were about to swipe at him again, but all of a sudden, the sound of roaring waves crashed through the silence.

The fangs of a kitsune clamped down against his neck, and he saw red with splotches of blackened green.

- - - - - - -

If Vivian hadn’t climbed into his side of the bed back last night and woke him for attention, Arthur felt that he would never be able escape from that hellish dream. She is only three years old, and yet…

“…knight? My knight?”

“Uncle Arthur?”

Arthur snapped out of his stupor as he saw a hand waving in front of him. He thought it was Elaine at first, but then he realizes the title he was just called. Looking up to see who it is, he sees a tall and lean girl with short dark brown hair held up with an orange headband that barely reaches his height beside Elaine.

“Are you all right? Do you need to rest?”

He smiled, “I’ll be fine, Phoebe. I do appreciate you watching out for me.”

He has a hard time believing that Phoebe, who turned nineteen just a few months back, has grown so much since the last major family reunion the year before. She looked concerned, as she usually is, and often worried for his well being in the few times they see each other. As she is the oldest in her generation, Phoebe was told of Arthur’s past abuse from her mother, Eleanor. While Arthur felt fortunate in that Phoebe never pressed for details, he knew that she only meant well whenever she asked about his health, if maybe a little too often. As expected of a child in this family.

“Phoebe, how’s Rhetta doing?” Elaine asked to switch the topic, “I wasn’t able to ask her, since she’s never interested in talking to me.”

“Oh, she’s all right. She’s at that phase where it’s said that speaking to adults is considered ‘uncool’ at her school,” Phoebe sighed with a mix of annoyance and concern while tugging at the collar of her shirt, “I swear, peer pressure is not a fun thing. I’m having a hard time getting through to her, and I’m her sister.”

Arthur knew that term all too well. Back when he used to live in Tempo, Vivi and Lew–

“Dad-dee?” Arthur looked down and realized that he forgot that he’s still holding Vivian. How that’s possible, he isn’t really sure, but…

These memories won’t stop haunting me even though it’s been so long now?

“My knight,” he looked up and saw Elaine smile lovingly at him, her arm already turned back to normal, “Let’s get back to the party. Okay?”

He nodded, and after taking a moment to adjust his hold on Vivian, went back into the party room.

To Arthur, the rest of the events that happen is all a blur. As soon as he released Vivian from his hold, the toddler ran up to Gwen and Percy to tear open the presents, even the ones that weren’t for her to the twins’ chagrin. More toys, machine parts, books, and games were added, and soon, it was decided that it was time to eat the cake.

The twins shared slices from one cake while Vivian sat between them to eat her own. Because Vivian is just a small toddler, Arthur convinced Elaine to have a smaller cake with less sugar in it to be made for her, so it wouldn’t make her as hyper, which she agreed wholeheartedly to. Vivian seems to like it, because she started to dig in to her cake with a spoon before the twins could even start to eat their slices.

“Heh heh! Vivian! You’ve got cake all over your face!” Gwen quickly cleaned the crumbs off around Vivian’s plate.

“It’s cake, Gwen. Of course she’s gonna go all over it,” Percy snickered.

Arthur heard the sound of a camera shutter and noticed Elaine has the camera on hand, taking photos of the twins laughing at Vivian being a mess. Gwen held up a napkin and started wiping some crumbs off Vivian’s face while Percy watched with a wide grin.

He isn’t sure why, but Arthur felt a weight lift itself from his shoulders. He felt lighter than usual as he watched his three children just being themselves.

Happy Birthday, you three. Know that I love you all.

- - - - - - -

A week later, it started snowing.

Granted, getting snow at this section of Tennessee isn’t unusual, since Cantabile is a city within the mountains. Since many of these mountains have outskirts with wide open fields, it gave Gwen and Percy the time of their lives to transform into their yokai forms and let loose, while Vivian tried to follow by her newly discovered ability to fly.

It’s funny in Arthur’s mind, really. To think that he used to be so afraid of various things amongst the paranormal, but upon living and interacting with it on a daily basis ever since he married into the Knights family, some of it wasn’t so bad anymore.

Maybe it’s just because his children helped him find it fun somewhat.

“Come on, Vivian!” Percy dashed past Arthur and Elaine as a kitsune, bounding around the snow in wide circles, “Try to keep up!”

“You’re still it!” Gwen, still in her human form with her hands and feet covered with an icy aura, ran over the snow with ease without leaving any footprints.

While Vivian flew around to chase her siblings in their impromptu game of tag, Arthur watched them with a smile on his face as he tried to keep up with them. Elaine had taken a job by herself and left with Eleanor this time for the weekend, since she felt that it was too dangerous for Arthur and the kids to come along. With that in mind, Arthur decided to spend some quality time with the kids, which led to their unique game in the mountains.

Although he doesn’t have any powers to brag about other than his knowledge of robotics and machines, Arthur still has the ability to run fast for a long period of time even though he is in his late thirties. Running away from the paranormal and just wanting to escape from the horrors back in the old days, Arthur knew that he doesn’t need to run away from his children with paranormal abilities, but to run alongside them.

He always did ever since they were born.

They were on a wide open hill within the mountains, broken only by a handful of trees at the top. Percy still ran as a kitsune, and Gwen took the opportunity to change into her wolf form to let loose. As the two raced downward, Vivian flew after them, trying her hardest to tag one of her siblings. Arthur ran after them from behind in a straight path, but soon he lost his footing and fell. Before he knew it, he kept rolling down the snowy hill.

He isn’t sure how he did it, but soon he managed to recover his footing for a brief moment, only to fall to his back and slid down the snow even further, laughing once he heard the kids do the same thing.

It never snowed in Tempo, which is a desert town. He quickly shoved the thought aside.

Soon, Arthur managed to stop himself from rolling. A good thing, because once the adrenaline began to wear off, he started to feel tired and sore all over as his head felt like it was spinning a little. The area on his left arm where flesh meets metal began to feel cold, too. The sound of snow being crushed by footsteps caught his attention, and he turned and saw a golden fox’s leg.

“Dad, are you okay?” Percy leaned against him.

He reached up to embrace his hold around his son’s neck and buried his face against the fur. Is a kitsune’s fur always this warm?

“Daddy, you’re cold!” Gwen nudged her head against his back.

He looked up from Percy’s fur and saw Vivian floating nearby, her cheeks looking rosy from the cold. He remembered helping her bundle up against the cold, but he guessed it can only do so much against windchill. Holding out his good arm, he beckoned Vivian to come to him, which she obeyed. As soon as Vivian came into his cold, he felt that even she is shivering.

“Dad-dee… C-cold,” Vivian muttered as she wrapped her arms around him for warmth.

“M-m-might be a g-good time to h-head home, then,” Arthur gave a low chuckle as he started to stand up, but Percy knelt down in front of him.

“Get on my back, Dad,” he said, “It’ll be faster this way. The sooner we get you home, the sooner we can get you and Vivian warmed up.”

Arthur didn’t argue. Under normal circumstances, Arthur wouldn’t dream on riding on either of them while they were in their monster forms. For starters, it felt awkward to him, and the two were often rambunctious whenever they romp around. Second, as their father, he never wanted to exploit his children for anything other than loving them as his family.

The fact that Percy is insisting on helping him put that feeling aside. Arthur knew he needed to get home, if to get Vivian warmed up at the very least. It wouldn’t do anyone any favors if she catches a cold. Arthur knew that he can handle it, but Vivian might be miserable.

The ride back to their home wasn’t the smoothest, but Percy being so careful when running the trek back home made up for it.

Once they reached home, Arthur made sure to give Vivian a warm bath.

- - - - - - -

The following Monday, Arthur is back at the university grading some worksheets the students did over the Fall Break. Normally, his boss Mr. Cromwell would be grading them, but the man had to go to a meeting with his fellow deans, so Arthur volunteered for the task until he came back. As a teaching assistant with his own office, it was the least he could do.

He still works at Four of a Kind Queens from time to time, mostly on the weekends. Elaine still works at the family shop, but she encourages Arthur fully when he works at the university, since the twins have been having a fantastic time learning new tip and tricks in the fields the university teaches with their father nearby. Well that, and the paycheck from the university is pretty good, too.

On Vivian’s end, because her powers are so unpredictable combined with her young age, and that her hair is still unnaturally long, it was decided that she is to be home schooled for the time being. Elaine gave a reason to the education board that Vivian has some “special needs,” which is somewhat true.

“I don’t want to get a school destroyed for the third time,” Elaine sighed as if reliving a bad memory, “This is for everyone’s sake.”

Arthur whipped his head at her direction, “Wait, do what a third time?”

“Oh, nothing, just thinking about my school days. I had to be home schooled after I turned ten, so… yeah.”

After he finished with the grading on paper, he had to put the grades themselves on to the online reports. A little annoying to do, since the online grading board is a bit finicky, but Arthur could tolerate it. Upon reaching the halfway point of inserting the grades, the phone rang, which he quickly answered.

“Cantabile Institute of the Robotics Division.”

“Are you… Arthur… Knights?”

“That would be me, how can I help you?” He opened up a window that showed an online planner.

The man on the other line was silent.

“…Sir?”

“Ah, sorry, I, uh… got distracted. Let’s see… I have some questions about the robotics program that my grandson was thinking of applying for next year. I would like to know what qualifications he would need and what classes he needs to take.”

Arthur rose a brow, “Well, that should be on the school website under the Programs tab. Were you and your grandson able to find that, Mister…?”

“Ah…! Er, I-I’m… Snowfield. Joe Snowfield.”

Rather nervous guy with a minor accent. Not that I’m any better on the nervous part. Arthur shrugged, “Mr. Snowfield, got it. Did you find that tab I mentioned before you called?”

“I did, but I… have some questions and I was hoping I could meet with you… personally.”

“I’m actually just a teaching assistant, sir. While I can discuss how to properly register for the classes in which semester and graduate in four years, if you want the finer details for the university’s robotics program while getting the official approvals for registration, you should talk to either Mr. Robert Cromwell, the dean, or to the actual instructors Ryan Kusey or Keith Matthews. They can give you more accurate answers than I can.”

Arthur could’ve sworn he heard Snowfield curse, but it’s probably because of nerves. It’s not unusual for grandparents to have a hard time, but…

“Does your grandson also have the surname Snowfield?”

“Er… Yes, he does.”

“I’ll give you the contact info for Keith Matthews since your surname is among the alphabet of students he handles. Could I have your contact info so I can pass it to him?”

“T-that won’t be necessary! I-I can see his contact info here, so I will make sure to schedule an appointment with him. Do you know if Mr. Matthews will be here on Thursday?”

“He’s here all five days of the week, so I doubt you’ll have any issues reaching him if you email him and if you’re flexible with time.”

“I-I will do that. Thank you, Ar– Mr. Knights.”

“You’re very welcome, sir. Have a good day.”

“Bye.”

Arthur hung up, shaking his head. It’s not the first time he’s had this kind of phone call, but that old gentleman had to take the cake. The man on the other line spoke as if he was overwhelmed by something, or had something else in his mind like he wasn’t completely there. Arthur didn’t think he or the university is that intimidating… right?

When he went back to his computer screen to add more grades in the online grade book, he glanced at the newspaper article he had framed, the article that had Gwen and Percy make that arm that contained a picture of the two standing proudly before their creation. A part of him did wish that he was among them when their achievement was acknowledged, but…

He shifted his focus back on the computer screen.

I can’t have them find me. I can’t have them take me back. If they do…

His fingers faltered.

Who knows they’ll do to the kids.

Gwen. Percy. Vivian.

I…

I’m so sorry you had to be born to a cowardly father like me.

His cell phone rang this time, and he answered it, “Hello?”

“Hello, my knight,” he recognized that wistful voice anywhere.

Letting out a breath with a silent exasperated laugh, Arthur shook his head.

How is it that she always has such good timing?

“My light,” he smiled, “What’s up?”

“I thought I’d just call and say hello. A good thing I did, since you only call me your light whenever you’re anxious. Did something happen?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I was just thinking about whether I should use it more.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that, my star.”

As Arthur filled out the remaining grades, Elaine kept talking about every day things over the phone. She talked about Vivian missing her daddy, talked about how much she misses him, talked about how much she loved him.

“I love you, my star.”

“I love you, too… my light.”

Even to this day, Arthur doesn’t really know what he did to deserve an amazing woman as his spouse.

- - - - - - -

Three days later, Arthur is in his office again, and crossed off the former day on the calendar to show that it’s Thursday today. Mr. Cromwell has to attend yet another meeting regarding the school board, but Arthur’s not complaining. He opened the calendar on his computer to check for any appointments any students have signed up for, but so far, he only saw one. That Snowfield gentleman he spoke two earlier this week had booked an appointment with Keith Matthews like he suggested, so at least he won’t have to worry about that.

“Let’s see,” Arthur muttered to himself as he picked up the binder containing the assignments, “Yesterday was Robotics III, so today is Robotics II, so this means that the assignment that’s due today is—”

Someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he turned to see the instructor he just thought about, noticing a cell phone in the man’s hand..

“Hey, Arthur. Do you remember answering a call from a Joe Snowfield on Monday?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just got a call from my insurance agent regarding my wife’s surgery, and I really need to take it. All Mr. Snowfield needs is a summary of the program and a list of the required tools. Could you help him on that while I get this taken care of? I already have the papers laid out to him out front, I just need you to explain the classes in a bit more detail.”

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur stood up from his desk and proceeded to walk out the door.

After his coworker left with a rather hasty thanks, Arthur rose a brow at the odd behavior before shrugging it off. Grabbing a small notepad, he left his office to greet the guest that his coworker left behind.

“Mr. Snowfield? I was told you need to know more about the program?”

“U…! Uso… It… It can’t be…”

Arthur took a moment to look at the man’s face and went still, as did the man in blue standing before him. The man’s arms went slack as he looked at Arthur with a stunned expression.

“It… It’s really you,” the man, allegedly said to be Joe Snowfield, whispered out loud, the shock never leaving his face.

“Arthur.”

It’s Mr. Yukino.

Vivi’s father.

- - - - - - -

…

…

…

What? What was… What was I doing?

It doesn’t look like anything’s happened, but…

Hey… are you okay?

…

…

…

Even now, I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

We’ve already hurt him enough as is.

It… It may be time to let him go.

…

…

…

Why?! How could you do this?!

None of us wanted this to happen!

I will never forgive you!

…

…

…

How can I…?!

After all what you’ve…!

I…! I…!

…

…

…

If you’re…

If you’re not happy here…

THEN JUST LEAVE!

 * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

I’m not freaking out.

But it feels like time is running out.

How did this shit come about?

I’m not freaking out.

Part 12: But…!

[idhyejung]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 ! guess who ? it’s me, 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍, here again with a new muse, and i’m super excited for you all  to get to know her ! she’s aurora’s main vocalist, their current oldest member, and your new ideal type, 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆. she’s a 1990 liner who was involved in the miss korea pageant back in 2009, but after a devastating loss, was scouted by midas media and built into the woman you see today. they’ve created her into this ethereal goddess in the public eye, and while she adores the recognition, it makes her an anxious wreck since she feels so much pressure to be perfect. additionally, being that she’s older than most idols within her and aurora’s generation, she’s left quite exhausted; having been at this for so long. anyway—more tldr information on my new baby will be found beneath the read-more, and if anyone of you are interested in plotting with her, 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 in the corner so i can send you a message via tumblr im ! — 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 ✨ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 ✨ 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞.

born in busan, south korea, on october 14th, 1990.

comes from humble beginnings; her family was very poor.

loved idols since she was a child, especially s.e.s’ eugene.

father struggled with a gambling addiction, left when she was twelve.

this left her beloved mother, who was holding 3 jobs, severely depressed.

she, her two siblings, and her mother, moved in with her grandparents.

became the ‘caretaker’ for her family—cooked meals, cleaned, etc.

worked all throughout high school; told by classmates she should do pageants.

later was urged to do so by one of the chairmen of miss korea.

won the title of miss busan-ulsan in 2009, but lost miss korea that same year.

was devastated, but was reached out to by midas media; later became a trainee.

struggled a whole lot in dance, but excelled heavily in vocal performance.

performed ryan kim’s ‘good day’ for her final eval; made main vocal of aurora.

she’s the unofficial ‘mother’ of aurora, and loves her members dearly.

due to image maintenance, she struggles greatly with anxiety and panic attacks.

she writes her own lyrics, and hopes to record them solo someday soon.

[starzec]

2018 ends, blog turns 5, I have to post my year summary.

This is the hardest year to sum up in my lifetime. Period. When I started to write first drafts of this note in the beginning of December, a lot of things were different. Since then, both of my grandparents passed away, seventeen days apart, only few days ago. I was brought up by them partially, and thanks to their support I’m who I am now. Any sentence I try to write seems dull and it doesn’t translate how heavy my heart is. My grandpa taught me how to ride a bike, and what’s worth in work, and what does it make out of a working person. Every time somebody says that I am somehow like him, I hold to it dearly. I wanted to be like him, and I’ll always do. I will always love you both.

2018 is a year when I finished Makeshift, in terms of actual photographic process, proceeded to defend it as my diploma at ITF with a triple A score, and started to prepare for final form of presentation of this work. In 2019, I hope to announce some exhibition and/or book info. Also, ITF wanted me back, so now I’m doing a MA course there. 2018 is also a year when I started a new documentary, mostly accidentally – I needed good documentations of buildings and realisations of Wojciech Jarząbek for the lectures I give at the University, and it just went from that, and thus started to work on Development. I refurbished my website, did a lot of commissioned works for magazines and other clients. I had one small solo exhibition, and took part in five group ones, got shortlisted for Polish Photographic Publication of the Year, CDS Documentary Essay Prize in Photography and for polish Grand Press Photo 2018 in Documentary. I recorded two albums with Mazut and Mazutti, special trio with Macio Moretti, from one of my beloved bands when I was a kid and from about million of other ones, plus one solo album, played 39 gigs, and toured a lot.

We’re still together, plus some other words to link more pictures of Martyna. There were friends & homies, and thus there were good times. Our first close friends got a kid. We had no real vacation, besides 90 hours in Berlin and two days by the river. Those were cool, tho. We ate a lot of pizza. I don’t know and don’t really care about the album of the year, but The L Shaped Man by Ceremony certainly had hit a string. Jan made me swim in the sea in January, and my mom had a birthday. I’d seen Alec Soth speaking in June, and Mac DeMarco playing in October. I turned 26 in November. 

But there’s also a thing that happened in 2018, and I guess it is at least as much important as all those things. This is the year that I got into therapy that finally worked. This might sound banal to you, but it’s not for me; I am really strongly connected to the idea of being a self-sufficient person who can do anything with hard work, and built a huge part of my personality on this. A year and a half ago it got bad to the point that I had to admit that I can’t deal with all this anymore. All I wanted to hear was that I have clinical depression that – not like the burden, the fucking mess, the void I felt – has limits and can be cured with this and that. Instead, I heard I’m just this way. I gave up. And then, my partner convinced me to try again. And it started to work. It wasn’t, and still isn’t easy, but somehow, step by step, it changed me. For the first time in seven years I cried, for the first time in my adult life I felt like a human being with a full gamut of emotions available to try. Then, in summer, a crisis came by, and for the first time in my conscious life, I’d questioned why I bother doing what I do. Despite the fact that photography was always my way to cope, a way to filter and get through, I was tired and numb and sure that I can do something else. I took this picture, in a place with personal significance, and I was somehow sure that this is how it will stop; I was done. But it did not, and somehow, in all that stress connected to my graduation, I simply forgot about the big question, postponed it for later. And you know what? Suddenly, it got better. I felt better. It’s all a process, it still happens, but I feel that I have to share it, as this is one of the most important things to happen to me, ever.

I wrote this bit in an emotional strike way earlier than the end of December. Not everything is so good when I revisit it now – and I felt the numb sadness when I got to the part about my family that I had to strike out. I share all this cause, you see, my solid guess is that I did a great job and I wasn’t looking as someone struggling with anything. I never did personal (like: focused on me/my history) projects, maybe besides some soundart/music stuff. I always finished studies on time, engaged in a lot of activities, I never self-harmed, never asked for help, never went on a bender. Thing is, despite having solid reasons to be troubled, I’ve always tried my best to not be. This made me both moving further in life, and completely hating everything I do. This made me caved in, to not bother anybody. I felt I have to be easygoing and helpful to make people like me. I was empty inside, assured that I can cover everything up with work, and that it has to be this way. But, two important things: it doesn’t have to be this way, and it could get better. For years, I imagined that something magical is right behind the corner, that another thing done would unlock a fucking fairy that would magically made me happy and proud of myself. This is not a sprained ankle thing that you can walk over. Getting help doesn’t make you weak, or doesn’t undermine your qualities as a person, or doesn’t mean you don’t love those around you. There’s nothing wrong with seeking help, even when you feel that most of you have is your capability to listen and help other, even when you’re tough.

I wish that 2019 would be more stable in a good way, but this simply never happens. Take care.

[nestorjpy2896-blog]

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[sophialala1]

I’m now at the point where I’m creating my own fanart in favor of studying XD <3 Well, here you’ll get some fanart of chapter 20 of my story Dearly beloved <3 (PS: It’s my first digital art ever, so be nice) XD <3

I included the chapter so you’ll know what I’m talking about <3 And the full story can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490639/chapters/25774182

Anyways, Chapter 20 - Dearly Beloved

Yuuri couldn’t contain his gasp when he saw Victor nail his quadruple jump. It was a quadruple salchow, and the landing was perfect.

“Good job, Victor.” Yakov called across the ice rink.

“I did it, Yakov, I told you I could!” Victor cheered. “Yuuri, did you see?”

Yuuri nodded frantically. “It was amazing!”

Victor skated towards him. “How did it look? Did I spin fast?”

“Yes, you did.” Yuuri assured. “I could barely count the spins.”

Victor beamed with pride. “Yakov, can I please use the jump in my short program?”

Yakov chuckled fondly before his face grew deadly serious. “No.”

“What? No? Why?” Victor questioned. “This jump will give me a new record.”

“Your program will get you a new record. You don’t need any quads.” Yakov explained. “Besides, you’ve only managed to land one. It doesn’t mean that you’re good enough to add a quad to your program on the last day.”

“But you promised that I could start competing with quads when I turned fifteen…”

“You’ve been fifteen for one day, Victor.” Yakov pointed out. “Calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm.” Victor protested. “I’m just saying…”

“The answer is no.” Yakov stated, leaving no room for arguments.

Yuuri could tell that Victor didn’t let it go. His entire face was just screaming rebellion. “Okay, coach…” Victor said grimly. “Whatever you say.” ……………………………….

“Victor, you’re not going to do anything stupid, right?” Yuuri asked in concern. It was almost time for Victor to perform. And Victor had a weird look on his face.

The Grand Prix final was held in Moscow, Victor’s home territory. And his fans were definitely cheering the loudest.

Victor didn’t want to disappoint them by playing it safe. If he knew that he could be better, wasn’t he an idiot for not doing it?

“Victor?” Yuuri prodded.

“I’m not doing anything stupid.” Victor assured. “I’m doing something smart.”

“Just…” Yuuri started but trailed off.

“What?” Victor asked gently. It was almost time of him to go on the ice. But he couldn’t skate if Yuuri looked so worried.

Victor crouched down so he could get a better look of his mate, when Yuuri suddenly threw his arms around Victor’s neck. “Please, don’t get hurt…” He pleaded.

Victor hugged Yuuri back. “I won’t.” He promised. “I know what I’m doing…”

Yuuri nodded against his shoulder before reluctantly letting him go.

Victor backed away when he suddenly felt Yakov’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s almost time now, jacket off.”

Victor made a sound of acknowledgement. “Will you watch it for me?” He asked Yuuri.

Yuuri nodded solemnly.

Victor chuckled and took off the jacket that connected him to Russia, and handed it to Yuuri.

Yuuri almost choked on his own breath when he saw Victor’s costume in all its glory. He had seen it on TV, but it was so different in person. The crystals covering his entire torso, and the white fluffy wings on in his shoulders, made him look like an angel.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked worriedly.

Yuuri inhaled shakily. “Y-yes…?”

Victor smiled softly to his mate. “Try and breathe, okay?”

Yuuri’s face turned red in an instant, but he took a deep breath to appease Victor.

“That’s my boy…” Victor declared and ruffled Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri tired his best to fix it, but without a mirror, it was more or less a lost cause.

Victor chuckled fondly. “You look so cute like that…”

“Victor.” Yakov snapped. “Focus.”

“Victor, focus…” Victor mocked in Japanese.

Yuuri laughed despite himself. “Victor, you really shouldn’t make fun of him… He only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah…” Victor scoffed. “We’ll see…”

“And now, give a warm welcome to Russia’s treasure. Who’s performing in his home territory this time around, Victor Nikiforov.” The announcer spoke. “Victor, skate.” Yakov urged.

Victor kissed the ring on Yuuri’s hand. “Cheer for me?”

Yuuri smiled. “Just try to stop me…” ……………………………

Victor was a panting mess by the time his performance was over. He had replaced all of his triple salchows with quad salchows. He had touched down on two, but landed the other three perfectly.

The audience roared in awe, and Victor felt as if he was on the top of the world. Despite having Yakov trying to burn him alive with a look so furious, that he made Medusa seem like a puppy.

But Victor decided that it didn’t matter, when he finally turned to the person he wanted to impress above all else. His true mate, who was currently hugging his jacket so tightly, that Victor was worried that he might choke himself.

He quickly made his way over to him. “Yuuri, what did you think?” He asked happily as he reached for the rink-wall.

“It was amazing!” Yuuri cheered as Victor skated to a halt. “You’re so amazing, everything was just so…so…”

“Amazing?” Victor filled in.

Yuuri nodded. “It was the best program I have ever seen.”

Yakov didn’t look impressed as he gave Victor the silent treatment, Probably because of all the reporters standing behind them. But his eyes said plenty.

Victor was going to get an earful later…

Victor didn’t care, however. Yuuri looked at him with so much admiration and love that it would definitely be worth it. He would spend the rest of his life with Yakov screaming in his ear, if that was what it took to have Yuuri look at him like that.

“I’m glad.”

Yuuri smiled before he flinched in realization. “Oh, do you want your jacket back?”

Victor laughed as he shook his head fondly. “I’m still very warm after the performance. Why don’t you hold onto it or now?”

Yuuri looked at the jacket determinately. “I will protect it with my life.”

Victor wrapped an arm around Yuuri. His mind was firmly made up that Yuuri was coming with him to the kiss and cry. “Please don’t risk your life like that. I can always get a new jacket…”

Yuuri smiled shyly. “Okay. But it would be a shame if anything happened to it. It’s a very beautiful jacket.”

“Do you want it?” Victor asked. “I can get a new one, and you can keep that if you’d like?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Victor chuckled and pulled Yuuri closer to himself to cover him from the flashing cameras. “Really.” …………………

The jacket was about five sizes too big for Yuuri, but that didn’t keep him from wearing it to Victor’s free skate the next day.

Victor beamed with pride. Having Yuuri wear his jacket made something flutter in his heart, just like the rings did.

It was probably his possessiveness as a alpha. If he could, he would probably put out giant billboards all over the world of the two of them together, with the inscription ‘true mates’. But his parents had already shot down that proposal four times. So it was probably not going to happen…

“What’s in the bag?” Victor asked. Breaking the silence the excitement had put them in.

Yuuri had been carrying a bag ever since they left the hotel. But Yuuri kept it in his free hand. Out of Victor’s sight.

“A surprise…” Yuuri said secretively.

Victor hated how curious that made him. “For me?” He asked.

Yuuri nodded. “You’ll get it once you get off the ice.”

“But, Yuuri…” Victor pouted. “Can you at least give me a clue?”

Yuuri looked away thoughtfully before he suddenly lit up. “It’s my favorite color.” He announced.

Victor hummed thoughtfully. There were a lot of things that could be blue. The ocean, the sky, the angry vein on Yakov’s forehead… But he seriously doubted that any of those would fit inside Yuuri’s bag.

“Victor, I’m warning you. If I see any quads….” Yakov started before Victor cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll resign your post and leave me as a skating-orphan…” Victor repeated in amusement. “You made your points yesterday.”

“Victor… I would have to agree with Yakov.” Yuuri spoke up. “If there’s a risk that you might get hurt. I don’t want you to do it.”

Victor’s heart swelled at Yuuri’s concern.

“I won’t get hurt, solnechnyy.” Victor stated.

Yuuri still looked worried. “But can you promise me that you will stick with the triple jumps? Just to be safe…?”

“Yuuri…” Victor drawled. “You’re so cute when you’re worried.”

“Is that a yes?” Yuuri asked hopefully.

How could Victor possibly say no to that face. “Yes, love.” Victor relented. He was already in the lead with such a high score that he could probably skip his free-skate all together and still win. “I promise you that I won’t do any quads.”

Yuuri smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” …………………………….

Yakov had never appreciated a person as much as he did Yuuri Katsuki, also known as the Victor-whisperer. Finally, he had someone who could get Victor to stop being a reckless idiot.

Sure, Yakov loved his protégé, but god, he could be so stupid sometimes. Yakov didn’t want to keep Victor from evolving and becoming better. But Victor was still growing, and when it came to quads, they could be very dangerous if the distance were measured wrong.

Victor had always been a rebellious kid. Making his first quad when he was no more than ten years old. Just to prove to Yakov and himself, that he could.

Yakov had forbidden them immediately, for Victor’s own safety. But he always caught Victor trying stupid stunts when he wasn’t looking. But it turns out that he only needed Yuuri to get Victor to see reason.

Yakov would have to get his home number, just so that he could have Yuuri talk sense into Victor’s thick skull, the next time the kid got any stupid ideas.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Yuuri asked in awe as Victor skated to a halt in his final position.

Yakov immediately snapped back to reality. Was Victor finished already?

“He’s a very good skater.” Yakov agreed sternly as he clapped his hands.

Yuuri smiled proudly. “I made him a wreath out of blue roses… I hope he will like it.”

Yakov almost snorted. “I think someone will have to rip it away from his cold, dead hands, if they ever want to take it away from him.”

Yuuri looked up at Yakov with a horrified expression. “What?”

Yakov suddenly remembered that he talked to an eleven-year-old he barely knew. He had heard so much about him through Victor, that he almost forgot that he barely had any relationship at all to the Japanese boy. And there he was, traumatizing him with his dark sense of humor.

“Not that anyone would kill him. Just that…” Yakov tried to explain himself. “I’m sure he’ll like the wreath….” He sighed.

“So, what are you two talking about?” Victor asked cheerfully as he suddenly appeared at the rink-side. “You’re not revealing my deepest secrets, are you?”

“Victor, that was amazing!” Yuuri cheered. “You were so beautiful.”

“Thank you, love.” Victor smiled. “Does this mean I’m worthy of the surprise?”

Yuuri smirked. “Well, you’re not off the ice now, are you?”

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise, before a giant grin spread across his face. He took a step forward so he stood on the concrete floor. “Better?”

Yuuri nodded and reached for the bag.

Victor took the moment to put on his skate guards. But just as he put the second one on, something was suddenly placed on his head.

He looked up to Yuuri’s smiling face. “I made it for you last night.” Yuuri announced. “It’s a wreath made of blue roses. They smelled like you, so I figured that they would make a good crown… For my prince…”

“Yuuri…” Victor drawled. His eyes were once again filled with tears. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess you were just lucky…”

Victor laughed. He was once again reminded of why he loved this confident part of Yuuri. It made his heart beat impossibly strong in his chest. “I suppose you’re right.”

Yuuri blushed, back to normal self again. “Well, come on. We need to see your score…” He reached out his hand to Victor and nodded to the kiss and cry.

Victor took his hand in a heartbeat. “Of course, Luchik… Lead the way.” …………………….

Victor wore the wreath with pride as he stood at the top of the podium. It matched his outfit perfectly and everyone seemed to complement it every chance they got. Yuuri was so happy.

Victor had broken the world record in total score and had really set the bar until Yuuri would make his debut in the juniors.

Next year, Victor would move on to the ‘real’ Grand Prix. But hopefully, the next one who would crush his record in juniors would be his very own Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri was currently waiting for him with Yakov until the medal ceremony was over. Then they were going out for dinner together with their families to celebrate, and Yuuri would finally get to eat piroshkies.

Victor could barely wait.

“Thank you.” The photographer said, releasing the skaters from the podium.

Victor practically jumped off of it, in his rush to get back to Yuuri. And just when he saw his beautiful mate again, he heard a voice coming from above him.

“Congratulations on your win, Victor.”

Victor looked up and saw a little boy with curly golden hair and giant green eyes.

Victor smiled at him. “And what’s your name?”

The boy looked taken off guard by Victor’s response. “Christophe Giacometti.” The boy said almost too quickly to be audible.

Victor smiled at his reaction. “Thank you, Chris.”

The boy reminded him of Yuuri in some way, so young and filled with hope. Victor wanted to keep that alive. So he looked to his hands and noticed how many roses he held. Most of them probably wouldn’t even last through dinner, so it really couldn’t hurt to spare one.

Victor took one of them and threw it up to Chris. “See you at worlds.” He said with a wave.

Chris looked at the rose like it was magical.

Victor couldn’t help but chuckle when he suddenly felt how someone grabbed his hand. His Yuuri.

“Yakov told me that I should tell you to hurry...” Yuuri smiled. “Apparently you won’t listen to him?”

Victor feigned hurt as he allowed Yuuri to lead him away. “I do too listen to him.” He protested. “I just prefer to listen to you.”

Yuuri laughed. “By the way, who was that boy up there? The one you gave the rose to?”

Victor smiled teasingly. “Are you jealous, Pryanichek?”

Yuuri shook his head thoughtfully. “I know you love me more.”

Victor kissed the side of Yuuri’s head and successfully got a small laugh out of his beloved mate. “Always.”

[critrateup]

Run It Back: Kingdom Hearts 1.5 -- The Introduction and Destiny Islands

The title screen of Kingdom Hearts remains to be my favorite intros in all of games. Dearly Beloved is a theme which by now has been arranged, reprised, and remixed into about a dozen official versions. It’s a theme so iconic that rather than start fresh with an entirely new track for each new series entry, it’s been repurposed as an overture of sorts -- every reimagining of the track can tell you something about tone, beats, and themes present in the game ahead. In this instance, the theme has a somewhat melancholy bass line married to a flittering melody. The rhythm goes in an unhurried circle arriving back unto itself, accompanied by the sounds of waves gently crashing onto the shore. Sora stands in a beautiful watercolor illustration, alone and looking out at the sea. Like most of the other parts of the game that I remember fondly, the elements come together in a way that just feels right. Sora is alone, and though his expression is relaxed you get the feeling that he isn’t quite happy either. There’s a touch of mourning to the scene, which stands as a somewhat abrupt contrast to the expectations one would bring to a licensed Disney game in the early 2000’s -- something was different this time, and it was exciting!

The menu options are unfussy. You can start a new game or load a save (and in the case of the ReMIX versions, back out to the game select screen), and upon starting a new file you’re greeted with an intro cinematic. The cinematic starts with a beautifully rendered cloudscape that flashes the title in an unstylized, spartan, and serif’d font, and fades into a scene with Sora voiced by Haley Joel Osmant narrating his thoughts. It feels a little surreal, with him floating in space eyes half closed, wondering aloud to himself if he can trust his grasp of reality anymore. It sets the tone for the series, and places its production values front and center with a flashy cinematic delivering visuals well beyond what the hardware could deliver and professional Hollywood voice acting on par with what we’d expect from a Disney production yet surpassing performances we’d heard from up to that point. It also captures a certain angst that just resonated really well with 14 year old me. My stresses were piled high though I wouldn’t know to call them that at the time. I was just beginning to process some intense personal trauma that had occured very recently; national tragedy had struck the year before, with 9/11 and the G.W Bush Administration altering the course of American politics; and of course I was just entering high school, and all the baggage that brings along. Something about the way Sora saw himself falling from the sky, eyes closed and unable or unwilling to take control of his descent, resonated close and hard with me.

This is also the first time we hear the iconic Simple and Clean track, here as the -PlanitB Mix- with clubby vibe that marks the dramatic sweeps of the chorus have just a little more flair. The soundtrack to Kingdom Hearts was so good that it led to me hunting down a copy of the soundtrack at Tower Records. The craziest thing to me was that it had a domestic release (!) complete with the english (!!) versions of the Utada tracks and an unabridged, two-disc version of the soundtrack. Yoko Shimomura has since become a favorite composer of mine, to the point where I’d instantly recognized her work when I saw the first Final Fantasy XV trailer.

As a somewhat technical aside, The PS4 remaster runs at 60 frames per second, while the original ran at about 30. While the gameplay with look and act much smoother as a result, it is worth noting that the animation in the cutscenes has been keyed to 30fps resulting in a visual discontinuity when moving to and from cutscenes to live gameplay. It’s understandable, but it also shows the beginnings of what will be a recurring question with the remastered version of the game running on modern hardware: should the game be presented as the original was in 2002, and what should be modernized to make the game more akin to something of a remaster (or ReMIX in KH parlance) in 2013 then again in 2017. Although I recognize the sheer amount of work hours it would have taken to go back and essentially reanimate every cutscene in the game would border on absurd, it does give the impression that there was some work the developers and management at Square Enix were seemingly willing and unwilling to do in a re-presentation of the game -- this is not a no-holds-barred recreation of the original, nor is it quick and dirty supplanting of the original. Rather, it’s something that lands in the world between, and I’ll be noting such seems as they occur to me.

The opening with the stained glass figures is still striking as ever, and the constant moody, cryptic narration sets the mysterious vibe well. There’s a short sequence of actual gameplay that gives a brief tutorial of basic movement and attacking controls, then asks you with somewhat cryptic messages to essentially choose a build for your playthrough. I chose defense as my boosted stat in my original playthrough because of the way it’s worded. “The power of the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all.” Of course these were values that I was All About™ but to be frank in later years when I discovered speedrunners and disgustingly destructive magic builds I became all about them, and would probably have never chosen Defense as a buffed stat in any of my playthroughs to begin with. It’s telling how effective the copy is when I still feel a pang of shame in sacrificing the shield as my default stat nerf.

The opening moments of gameplay on the Destiny Islands are totally unremarkable, and serve to highlight a coming weakness in the game -- namely, the clunky as hell platforming, with something of an identity crisis to come. It attempts to make stages interesting and fun by including varied elements of traversal and platforming, but the game’s unforgiving movement and jumping mechanics make it a difficult sell. With small ledges, an obtuse camera, finicky movement and facing requirements, a seeming lack of jump buffering and ledge forgiveness (more on that here https://www.patreon.com/posts/gamemaker-tips-14531948), getting precise movement out of Sora takes a whole lot of patience. Some of this will later be alleviated with Metroidvania-esque upgrades like a glide and a high jump, but running through the game’s platforming challenges with a vanilla Sora is tedious. Punishment for missing jumps can be harsh, reminiscent of Ratchet and Clank’s Planet Novalis Waterworks where a single misstep would send you to the back of the line to redo an entire sequence.

There’s something kind of cool and again telling in the way the tides are rendered on the beach. They’re GIF-y, cycling between a few frames of canned sea foam animation. Out of place as they may look running natively on a Playstation 4 in 2018, the way the gentle ebb and flow are rendered serve as a quaint reminder of the hardware that served the original entry -- it’s something of a momento mori for the videogame age.

The cave/secluded room on Destiny Islands has a bunch of really cool chalk drawings that I recommend you check out. Some of them seem to be of elements to come in the series, like the royal castle, starry adventures, and what even appears to be a Donald and Goofy. Weather intentional markers of the series’ now apparent time traveling and mysticism shenanigans or just fun little easter eggs for attentive players using the first person view function, it’s still a nice touch.

After some tedious gathering missions meant to familiarize you with the controls, Sora’s weighty movement, and some minor characters, the meat of the story begins to reveal itself. The introduction of the trio of Kairi, Sora, and Riku is mostly to the point -- Sora is excitable, smiley, and kind of a bag of rocks; Riku is intent on accompishing his goal of leaving the islands, seemingly in spite of the costs; and Kairi is kind if somewhat mischievous. There’s something of a love triangle painted between the three which serves to further drive their division in the coming cataclysm.

This is (to my knowledge) the only time the parents of Sora, Kairi, and Riku are even briefly acknowledged in the series. There’s a quick and disembodied line about dinner being ready at Sora’s house, and Kairi only briefly mentions family as the island is being torn apart from within. It’s kind of weird and maybe telling that Nomura and company weren’t sure how the game was going to do and what kind of future it may or may not have had coming. It’s a weird appendage to the series that seems impossible not to acknowledge.

And with that, the trio are sucked into the abyss, we get a glimpse of King Mickey’s castle, Riku in what we’ll later discover is Hollow Bastion, and Donald and Goofy are introduced. The story is told from and omniscient, cross-cutting point of view and I think it works for the most part. There are a lot of threads to keep track of, with characters we’re given lots of reasons to care about. In a game where the player character is one of a group of protagonists, each thematically and literally lost and in search of something, it creates a bigger payoff in dramatic tension to see them criss cross and near miss in pursuit of one another.

Next time, we’ll visit Traverse Town and discuss it’s soothing, soft-porn sax track at the crossroads of every world.