Chapter Text
J had chosen not to come to the brainstorming session at Starbucks, but the rest of N’s siblings were there, plus Thad and Uzi, who had just walked in. Lizzy and Doll couldn’t make it. N enthusiastically waved Uzi over. She smiled when she saw them (and a part of N wanted that smile to be for him, specifically, but no! Bad thoughts! They were all friends here, and that was it–no matter how much he wanted to be more, he was pretty sure she didn’t see him that way).
“Hey Zi!” Thad said.
“Hey,” Uzi acknowledged, taking a seat.
“We got your order.” N handed her a caramel frappuccino. She’d been busy doing . . . something, when they first left, so he’d offered to order for her. Hopefully she liked it–what if he’d misheard her and gotten the wrong drink?
“I appreciate it.”
Yes! She appreciated it! (But did he get the order right?) “Uh, I got the order right, right?”
Uzi checked the sticker. “Yeah, dude, you did. Thanks.”
Tessa clapped her hands together. “So, brainstorming session! My research said we should come up with at least ten ideas for episodes. And that we should write an outline for each episode instead of a full script, because natural conversations are better, but we need to stay on track. I don’t think I’m the person who should write. I wouldn’t be able to stay on topic.”
Cyn grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Big brother N and Uzi are both good writers.”
“Uzi would make it too edgy and N would make it too . . .” V started, before trailing off. “That’s actually not a bad idea. You’d balance each other out.”
“Bite me, I’d make it a good amount of edgy,” Uzi said. N got the feeling she was just putting up token arguments against V. “But I’m willing to help with the outlines.”
“Me too,” N said. It would be an excuse to spend more time with Uzi and do something useful for his friends. Then again, was he really a good enough writer for this? It’s just the outline, he told himself, not a full script. Surely he could handle that, especially with Uzi by his side.
“We’ve got to brainstorm episode ideas before writing it, though,” Tessa pointed out. She had her notebook and pencil out. “I’m thinking we start with what it’s like first getting out of youth prison after years.”
“Yeah, and we could also do one about what it’s like in youth prison,” Thad said. “Even if it’s mostly about life after, it would be informative!”
Cyn glanced away. N noticed Uzi frowning at her. Cyn’s head swiveled, her gaze meeting Uzi’s. A silent understanding passed between the two of them. N was desperately curious about what was going through their minds; they’d seemed to have this unspoken understanding, the two of them and Doll, and it perplexed him to no end. They were friends, but he had no idea when they got so close that it seemed like they could speak telepathically.
“The drama that happened should fill up several episodes,” V mentioned.
She was right–there’d been J’s whole fling with that one guy whose name N could never remember, Doll and V fighting over . . . honestly, he wasn’t quite sure what, and Uzi, who could unfortunately not escape the bullying, even in prison.
“Don’t remind me,” Tessa groaned, but she wrote it down anyway.
“We should talk about how hard it is to find a job,” Uzi said, slamming her face against the table.
N winced. That looked like it hurt. “Yeah . . .” Doll and V were the only ones of them who’d managed to land a job. Uzi, having multiple accounts of assault under her name, had struggled a lot trying to find a job for a few months before giving up. She said she was just taking a break, but N suspected the constant rejection was getting to her.
“And about how food is so much better out here, excited nod!” Cyn proclaimed (while nodding excitedly, of course).
“Maybe we should also talk about mental health,” Thad said. “Think ‘did prison create mental health issues, or did we already have them?’”
“We already had them,” V stated.
“Okay! Here’s the list so far.” Tessa held up the notebook and read aloud: “What’s it like first getting out of youth prison after years, what’s it like in youth prison, youth prison drama, the struggles of finding a job, food is so much better out here, and did prison create mental health issues or were they already there! That’s six. We need another four.”
“We could always talk about relapsing back into old habits and how to deal with that,” Uzi said.
“Nice. Though that would be better for you, Doll, Lizzy, and Thad,” Tessa replied, writing it down. “The rest of us aren’t planning on murdering anyone again anytime soon.”
“Speak for yourself, big sister,” Cyn joked. (N was pretty sure she was joking, anyway. It could be hard to tell with Cyn, but there wasn’t anyone he was aware who she would need or want to murder).
“We could talk about rebuilding friendships too!” Thad said.
An uneasy pit opened in N’s stomach. He hadn’t reached out to any of his old friends since leaving prison. What would they think of him now that he’d been in jail for murder? Should he even try to reach out again?
“You don’t need to rub the fact that you were able to make up with Sam and Chad in my face,” Uzi grumbled.
Right . . . Uzi didn’t have many friends other than them. “Wait, isn’t Sam one of the people you sold drugs to?” N asked. He probably didn’t need to do much rebuilding of that bridge when Sam was technically complicit in the crime.
“It’s still a good idea, even if you sit that one out,” Tessa told Uzi.
“Light sip.” Cyn poured some of her drink into her mouth. “We have a good start.”
They tossed around a few more ideas, but none of them clicked. They decided it was time to call it a day and returned home. It was strange to call the Doorman place “home”. Home had meant large, empty spaces and cruel punishments for so long. Then it had meant serving their time in youth prison. After that, it had been uncertain, until Uzi and her parents opened their home to the Elliotts. What home would end up meaning now, only time would tell.
)( )( )(
The room N shared with Cyn was much smaller than his room at Elliott Manor and the basement. But the pictures Cyn had taped up of their friend group and the stains on the walls created a much homelier atmosphere. And he got to pick out covers with golden retrievers on them.
Now, if only his mind would stop thinking for a second so he could sleep.
What if I mess up the outline and they all hate me? Unlikely in Uzi’s case. She was a very forgiving person, though she’d deny it. Lizzy and Doll were harder to read. Thad didn’t have a hateful bone in his body, and his sisters would smack him for thinking something like that.
All that logic didn’t make him worry any less.
What if my friends from before find the podcast and leave hate comments because they despise me now? What if no one listens to the podcast? What if EVERYONE listens to the podcast? Is this really a good idea? Is V going to be okay sharing a room with Uzi? They’re not arguing or hurting each other, are they? Oh gosh, what if they’ve seriously injured each other but are both too stubborn to admit anything and are going to hide it until they bleed out and die?
Most people would recognize this as the time when their thoughts were spiraling into unrealistic scenarios. Maybe this was an unrealistic scenario, but N needed to know that his sister and best friend were okay. He crept out of the room, softly closing the door and making his way upstairs. He knocked on Uzi’s door.
A minute later, Uzi opened the door. Her hair was disheveled without her beanie and her pajamas rumpled and she looked absolutely adorable. No, don’t think that! Bad thoughts! She doesn’t like you like that–we are strictly platonic best friends!
Uzi frowned. “N? It’s two in the morning, what are you doing?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late–early. I didn’t realize it was so early.” Maybe N shouldn’t have come? But what if Uzi and V fought?
“It’s fine, I was awake anyway. What’s wrong?”
“I, uh . . . you and V aren’t fighting, are you?” This was so much more awkward than he’d anticipated.
She gave him a befuddled look. “No? Why would you think that?”
“Well, I just thought that maybe, because you two don’t always get along, that you fought . . . and injured each other . . . and were hiding it because you’re both really stubborn?” He rubbed the back of his head. “It sounds kind of stupid now that I say it out loud.”
“No, you’re fine. V and I do kinda have a history of fighting, but it’s not that bad. We wouldn’t seriously hurt each other–” Her eyes went wide. “I, uh, you wanna continue this conversation downstairs? In your room?”
“I mean, I love doing anything, but why–”
She grabbed his hand (They were holding hands!) and practically dragged him down the stairs. Bewildered, he followed her into his room.
Cyn was sitting upright with her blanket wrapped around her, breathing heavily. “I . . . no . . . eyes, don’t take . . . don’t . . .”
N recognized a panic attack when he saw one, and Uzi did too. Did she know? How? And what is Cyn saying? He knew it didn’t matter right now; what mattered was Cyn. He was prepared to help, but Uzi beat him to it, sitting in front of her on the bed.
“Hey, Cyn,” Uzi said. “Can you breathe with me? In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.”
Cyn grabbed Uzi’s hands. “Nightmare. They were taking–” She gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks. “You know.”
Uzi nodded, sad and understanding. “Yeah. I know.”
Sobs choked out of Cyn. N reached out, but held himself back. “Can I touch you?” He asked.
Cyn shook her head. N respected her wishes and retracted his hand. “Can I talk to Uzi alone?” She asked.
“Uh, yeah!” He backed out of the room, closing the door behind him and wondering what the heck just happened. How was Uzi able to help Cyn out of a panic attack better than him? What was the panic attack about anyway? She’d said “Eyes” and “don’t take” which didn’t make much sense. He leaned against the door, and he would later promise to himself he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop initially, but it had happened anyway.
“How do you deal with it, Uzi? You and Doll, you’re both so strong. Hiccup.”
Deal with what? What were his sister, his best friend, and his other friend dealing with that was giving Cyn panic attacks and nightmares?
“I’m not as strong as you think I am. I think I just kinda repress everything. It all gets sorted into boxes of ‘do not think about!’ But it still affects me. I just . . . I can’t let them see, because what if they–this isn’t about me, this is about you. You don’t need my trauma on top of yours.”
N should really, really stop listening. This was a deeply personal (and confusing) conversation. He stepped away from the door and rifled through the cupboards for hot chocolate. He chose to warm the mugs up in the microwave one by one instead of using a pot. By the time he’d finished, Uzi and Cyn walked out of the bedroom. Cyn had snot trailing down her nose and blotchy cheeks, and Uzi’s eyes were red rimmed.
What happened to them? He wanted–he needed–to know, but instead he served them hot chocolate with a smile on his face, because that’s what they needed.
“Thank you, big brother,” Cyn said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Uzi added.
“No problem. I’m here anytime you need me, you know that, right, Cyn?” N said.
“I know,” Cyn replied, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
“It’s the least I could do.”
It’s the only thing I can do.