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She was the first.
The first kid he saw among a group of other unknowing children.
The sarcasm and wit came a bit later, not too long before purple locks and enamel pins became her 'thing', but before Nico, Gert was the definition of deadpan.
A six year old capable of a variety of emotions and has a body language of a Beyblade like any other kid, bares nothing but a knowing stare every single time she talks.
It's commanding, the way Gert does it.
As if she's forcing the focus to shift to her statement because she's making a point and that point is right.
It made his skin crawl.
( Even now, Chase never found out what exactly his six year old self meant by that .)
Intimidated, he would insist. But no less than a minute, goosebumps in the crook of his elbow would briefly remind him of something he refuse(d) to admit.
( Then again, maybe he’s just too fucked to know anymore. )
— — —
Chase admits that the words taste like cardboard on his mouth. It's one of the rare thoughts he granted he can admit to himself because it's just a tiny thought. Harmless.
Something he can squash with a foot as soon as he deems fit. Revocable.
Also because the truth, which outweighs a puny thought by a ton, is carved onto stone by Amy, "Ha! I knew it was a matter of time before you realize!"
Chase ducks his head, scratching the scruffy ends of his hair, before resting his hand on his bouncing leg. Amy grins, "You've been looking at Karolina weird since you’re like—what? Ten? And you're just now being bashful?"
Her words are the truth, meaning Chase is just abashed. That's the truth.
"I—Was it that obvious?" He croaks.
"Yes!"
Her words are the truth, meaning the 'weird' look he's been giving Karolina is because the truth is, he does have a crush on her.
Amy rolls her eyes as Chase stares at her incredulously, "You're twelve, Chase Stein. Doesn't take much to figure that out."
”I’m turning th—”
"What are you doing, Amy?"
Amy shifts her eyes from Chase to the person behind him. He doesn't even need to hear to know who it is with the way Amy just halts .
Gert continues talking into the silence, "I saw Chase rub the scruff of his hair. He does that when he's seriously uncomfortable."
He presses his fingers on his forehead.
Amy glances at him, eyes snapping back at Gert in a split-second as the latter repeats, "So. What are you doing, Amy?"
The older figure takes a moment, blinking once before bursting out laughing, "I was asking him what he thinks is better—tampons or pads for periods."
Chase's eyes widen. No—Amy can't say—It makes everything she said a—
“Well, that explains.” Gert scoffs, setting down her mug and sliding down on the stool beside him. "As much as I think that sanitary items have been excessively exploited by the capitalists in order to turn a profit, which should be immediately boycotted; It is also inevitably necessary and vital for 'our' consumption." She pauses, giving him a sidelong glance, "Excluding Chase Stein here."
Gert earns a more of a split-second stretch of a mouth than a smile from him.
"That is to say," Her gaze lingers a bit on Chase before turning back to Amy.
Yup, Chase berates himself. She is never going to let that go.
"Both have their pros and cons. Tampons being the cheaper choice, but if you're uncomfortable about the whole shebang, what's two dollars more for the comfort that is sanitary pads?" She finishes, idly fiddling with the rim of her mug.
Amy nods, actually looking more into the topic now than just having it as an escape route. "Right? I use both, specially when I have a match, but honestly? Pads for the win. Feels weird to have something squirming inside of you—"
"And I think that's my cue." Chase stands abruptly, stuffing scattered notebooks into his backpack and chugging what's left of his iced tea.
Suffice to say, he did not chug fast enough because Gert turns to him, says, "That disgusts you."
Chase hesitantly admits another thought to himself.
It doesn't, actually.
What does is the way his skin prickled immediately as Gert's arm brushed against his as she took a sip of her hot chocolate that he just clambers out of his chair and.
Just.
He runs a finger through his hair, opting for the easy way out, "Well, yeah—D'you really think guys want to hear that?"
Amy rolls her eyes, waves, "Get outta here."
Chase disregards Gert staring at him. "Will do, ma'am." He gives a good-natured chuckle, "But seriously, thanks, Amy."
The latter gives a discreet, knowing, wink. (which Gert wouldn't have seen anyway because she was still. staring. at. him.)
Cardboard.
"For homework—" Chase immediately adds and even he surprises himself. "Yeah—For, for helping me with Calculus."
Amy laughs, "Sure." She drawls out the word.
Chalky. Dry.
Gross.
A cry squeaks out from his sneakers, busting him out of his mind and out of the vicinity of the table.
Chase feels nauseous.
And the source of his nausea was gripping his wrist. He sighs, "How'd you even catch me this fast, Gert?"
"Slipped for a 'refill' when I realized you would rather talk to Amy than look at me if it's the end of the world." She points at the mugs, not taking her eye off Chase. "And now you used your 'avert topic with another topic' card."
The clench on his chest somehow bleeds in the way he shuts his eyes once, before opening to look at his friend properly. "What even is our topic here, Gert?" He's not surprised the clench turned into a vice grip.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
Chase desperately wants to drink away the worry lacing Gert's face.
It doesn't suit her.
( Almost five years later, it becomes her default. An expression carving itself to be a mask. A mask seeping into a dark crease in between her eyebrows from knotting them together too much. )
He doesn't deserve it.
( A lie. Because he knows the truth and it was a ritual—a murmur pressed on his collarbone minutes before the sun rises. Her words varied in length, but he learned how to slowly unravel each of her sleep-hazed speeches down to its skeleton. To say that he was always surprised it didn't have much variety in it than he thought was an overstatement. To say that he was always surprised that she conveyed only one thing to him without fail was an understatement. )
So Chase gulps down this very moment, as if worry was a drink he can just swipe from Gert's hands and chug for her until he drowns—because at least in drowning, he gets to taste a bit of affection from her then just die right after because that kind of want is not right for him .
( . . . )
"Chase, look at me." Gert presses.
And he does. Begrudgingly so, Chase lifts his gaze from the floor to her and he wishes everything was easier and he can just tell his best friend every single thing because it's Gert. Gert with her rough words he used to hate but has fallen in sync to, and soothing, tactile senses in contrast to his rough demeanor. And more than anything, there was nothing more comforting than being safely tucked under Gert's chin—
And that's a comfort he can't afford to lose.
Everything Chase told him about, other than his pristine academics, was taken away from him. Sheer force was preferable at this point, when he gets past the flinching and the tediousness that is trying to put pieces back together—because Chase (accidentally) found out that there's a possibility that Victor Stein was actually capable of so much more.
A possibility Chase would rather not explore.
"Sorry." Chase says after what seems like an eternity.
He'd take drowning, thank you very much.
( Drowning in a sea of lies, per se. )
"Don't say that. Talk to me."
"I'm not—" He clamps his mouth for a second before opening it again. "If it seems like I'm avoiding you, I'm sorry. I just—"
Gert merely stares, waiting ever so patiently for him to find (to make up) the right words.
"I was kind of planning something. I needed to talk to Amy because she's great at these kinds of things."
"Planning?" She looked skeptical.
"It's—It's a surprise."
Gert takes a beat of silence before continuing, "For whom?"
A grin easily makes his way to his face and Chase takes the chance, "Of course you'd use 'whom', such a nerd."
"Chase!" Gert groans.
"You'll find out soon enough." He hums, tapping the mugs with a clink. "Don't keep Amy waiting."
The chimes on the cafe's door sound more ominous than when he entered.
Chase doesn't mind it that much.
Because somehow, he's more fixated on the fact that rather than complaining of now having to prepare something for his alibi to check out, Chase is actually giddy at the prospect that he has a reason to give Gert something.
— — —
"Chase."
The boy in question quickly whips his head to find Alex staring at him. The latter seems to be giving him a look, one Chase is finding increasingly hard to read as the silence stretches between them.
Reaching an impasse, Chase relents, scrunching his eyebrows to question, "What?"
Surprise momentarily paints Alex's face before realization sweeps in as his features relax. Chase frowns further, "What? What do you want?"
"Well, " Alex coolly starts and Chase has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "I was just gonna say that we were gonna start a game of Clue right now. Join us when you're done with Dale's chores."
"Oh." Chase looks at the hors d'ouevres he has yet to bring to the other room and back to Alex, who looked like he was contemplating something. "Thanks. But you didn't have to go here to tell me that. I'll be quick anyway."
"Yeah," Alex drawls sarcastically and Chase narrows his eyes at him.
Alex sighs. "Chase, Dale told you to bring those—" He gestures to the plate, "Like fifteen minutes ago and, yet."
Chase opens his mouth and while he had no idea what he was about to say, his instinct to just blurt something out to try and save face prevails.
He doesn't get that chance because what Alex says shuts him up.
"Also, you've been staring at Karolina the entire time." Alex softens as Chase flushes. "I just...Thought you should know."
"Um...Thanks."
Alex smiles, "I got your back." He says as his gaze shifts.
Chase follows his line of sight and it lands on Nico.
He hears an unspoken, 'As long as you have mine.', and as he studies Alex's face, something shifts within Chase.
The latter scrambles before the shift causes something to click.
He picks up the cold, forgotten plate and quickly runs to the other room before giving Alex a quick "BRB". Chase flinches as Dale throws his arms in delight as he swipes the plate from his hands. He feels the latter's gaze lingering on him, but he must've imagined it because Dale's hands were patting his back and he was blabbering to Stacey not too long after.
( Maybe Dale found out that time. The Yorkes, after all, were more observant than anyone gives them credit for. )
Chase finds himself lingering at the door frame, letting the chaos that is Clue unfold in front of his eyes. He gives a quick glance at Karolina and as a vibrant smile spreads on her face, Chase is certain that it clicks.
"Chase!" Gert waves him over. "We're starting round two."
And as a piece finds its place, the next missing piece announces its existence.
"Be with you in a bit." Chase calls back, making his way to the group. "I am so gonna kick your asses!"
Three and a half rounds (As the fourth round was reaching its conclusion, Gert, Alex, and Amy engaged in a heated debate, with Nico as the inevitably failing, destabilizing agent causes Molly to flip the entire board and render the fourth round, as...well—just three and a half rounds.) of Clue later, the group finally decides to call it quits. Around this time, the parents were also getting around to leave, their kids bidding them goodbye as they all stay over in the Yorkes' for Gert's birthday getaway tomorrow.
Honestly, Chase thinks it's a miracle his even allowed him to sleepover, let alone go to a 'haunted' (Gert's words. Also the reason why she chose it in the first place.) theme park for an entire day away from their supervision.
( He remembers, it's the first time he ever felt truly, entirely, thankful to his parents because he wouldn't miss it for the world. )
As his parents' car scoot out of the driveway, Chase turns to go back inside the house, arms falling from being crossed too tightly for so long, only for it to tense immediately as he catches a glimpse of what seems to be an intimate sight.
But not one he hasn't seen before..
"Karolina, you're drooling." Chase discreetly whispers to her, throwing in a light shove for good measure.
The girl snaps from what seemed to be a trance and quickly fumbles with wiping her mouth, which to her surprise, had no drool. "Chase!" She whisper-shouts.
He chuckles, "You might as well be with the way you're staring at her."
Karolina raises a brow, confused. "Staring?"
"You were staring at Nico." Chase motions his gaze to the small girl making faces at her dad who was clambering into the driver's seat of a car.
"Was I?"
He rolls his eyes, replying incredulously, "Yeah, you had the most lovesick face I've ever seen in my entire life."
And suddenly, Chase stops. Widens his eyes.
The 'click' from earlier unravels to bare itself to him.
It starts from the very beginning, when he had the slightest idea of what it's called, but his fascination was all the same curious in amount. Chase didn't want to ask anything in fear of ruining everything, so he just watched. He stared at Karolina giving longing gazes, the softest expressions, and the most fascinating of them all, the way she seems to only brighten just a bit more at the tiniest interaction with the soft-spoken Nico.
Chase saw it in Karolina long before Alex directed his attention anywhere near it, he saw in Karolina what he realized he never really saw from his parents, what his bunkmate from scout insists he has with the girl from the nearby camp, what his dad probably heard when Chase told his mom that there was this time Gert was poking this upside-down turtle during Biology with this shrill, half squall—half shriek noise that was so adorable it made him giggle-snort for the very first time.
It was due to Karolina Dean that Chase first learns that love does exist.
They stare dumbly at each other, Karolina looking dumbfounded while also simultaneously looking like her thoughts were running past the speed limit, while Chase is utterly speechless.
Realize. Realizing. Realization.
Then, there was a cough.
Specifically, a hack-wheeze-cough because apparently, one subtle cough wasn't enough to break them out of the 'life-changing' trance they were in. Though, the shit-eating grin on Amy's face makes Chase roll his eyes, because what he presumes she's thinking couldn't be more farther from the truth.
Right.
It was due to Karolina Dean that Chase first learns that love does exist.
That was the truth now. Chase's truth.
Not the one Victor caked up with offhand questions, probing ones, that were poking, daring Chase to say the wrong answer to.
Not the one that left his lips and tasted like cardboard.
Not the one he held Amy accountable for because she was older and therefore, wiser, and held more authority.
Shit. Amy still thinks Chase likes Karolina.
"Wait, it's not like that." He huffs to Amy.
"Sure." She wiggles her eyebrows.
"No, I'm serious!" Chase groans, looking at Karolina, "Back me up here, K."
And to his chagrin, Karolina was still fried. "Yeah, I did not have the most lovesick expression you've seen in your entire life!"
Amy howls, wheezing a variation of 'Christ, I love middle schoolers.' in between laughter and it does nothing to calm the fire that is spreading throughout the two's face.
Needless to say, the night was a wild ride for Chase.
A few hours after dinner, they all retire to bed. Bed being, mattresses bundled together in the living room. It's not as spacious as the Wilders' guest house or personalised or roomier as his own bedroom, but it was cozier. Warmer, for some reason.
"Chase, are you asleep?" A voice faintly resonates within the dim, moonlight-streaked room. He feels Gert shift beside him before hearing the sheets rustle from the movement.
Ah. That was the reason why it's so war—
Chase coughs, a soft one, just to make his presence known to Gert and not rouse anyone else awake. It's not as if a cough would be used for expelling unnecessary thoughts anyway.
Molly chokes mid-snore and he hears sheets rustling for a moment before silence reigns once again.
So much for having to cough.
Molly's snoring, now faintly accompanied by someone else coming from just above him (At the very least, not Alex. He knows that for sure.), somehow serves as the white noise he didn't deserve and certainly didn't wish to have.
"Not really, no. What's up?"
She snorts her reply, "Me." Chase feels a smile conquer his lips and Gert continues, in a more hushed voice, "I can't really sleep."
"Does it have to do with the fact that it's your birthday in like—a few hours?"
"I'd like to think that it is."
That paints a frown in his face, momentarily, as he gets an idea and shifts to face her, "Want to get up?"
"Um—What?"
"If you're gonna spend your time....thinking whatever it is you're thinking, might as well not do it in a stuffy room, with Molly not snoring beside you."
Gert huffs. And since he knows better, Chase knows it's of the amused sort. "This is how you got Jenna from Biology in your pants?"
Chase sputters, quickly sitting up. "It's...She doesn't even—What—"
Gert sits up, her hair a usual chestnut brown, was a tad darker with the faint glow of moonlight over her and eyes unusually barren from the absence of her glasses seemed to be twinkling when Chase squinted.
And wow, holy shit.
She was sporting the gaudiest shit-eating grin he's ever seen.
Three hushed arguments (It was actually only one, but it got derailed fast, as always with Gert.) and a tango of clumsy tiptoeing around five other teenagers later—one of which was such a feather-light sleeper, she literally sat up and gave the pair a heart attack, only to be dragged down immediately by a half-asleep Nico because of course she'd know Amy's sleeping habits even in sleep or perhaps, specially in sleep—they're finally out.
"So...What now?"
Gert whips her head to him, "What now? This was literally your idea, Chase Stein."
"I didn't expect I'd get this far, honestly." He grins sheepishly.
"Well, maybe this is enough." Gert plops down on the grass. Chase follows suit. "Like, I mean, we can just stare silently at this starless, light-polluted night sky until we pass out."
"I don't think so." Chase teases, "Your vocabulary is very big, but I don't think silent has ever been in it."
"Excuse me?"
"I've known you for—" Chase brings up his fingers, "Four....Eight, nine, eleven, twelve—Almost ten years, Gert."
"Real quick, that's an odd way of counting."
"And you've always had something to say." Chase shrugs, as if to say, 'My point.'
Gert sighs in defeat. "What are you proposing? That I relent to stereotypical mindsets?"
"Uh, no. Nobody said anything like that." He grins, "But seriously, I don't think you can just shut up for five minutes."
"If this is your way of dragging me to a stupid bet, then, honestly, go fuck yourself."
Chase gasps for real, but plays it as mock offence.
"Because you're gonna get rekted so hard once I prove you wrong."
He grins, yanks out his phone and opens to the timer, setting it to five minutes. "Okay, let's do this."
Beep.
"So..." Chase side-eyes the now deadpan girl before starting to talk. "I feel like this is a good time to talk to you about the rides I'm gonna go on tomorrow."
He shifts in his position, turning to fully face Gert. "First off, me and Alex— "
Gert rolls her eyes on the emphasis. Weak attempt.
"—Talked about going to ride bump cars. He says that was the nearest one from the entrance and it saves time if we go through the rides in order."
An amused, bitter, snort escapes before Gert can even register it. Chase smirks and she narrows her eyes.
Not yet.
"Something about having less time going to and from , he says."
She squints. Skeptical, as if to say, ' Are you serious? '
"Even if it meant having to ride the roller coaster on a full stomach because Alex says we finish the haunted house around noon and after it comes the roller coaster."
A stare. Getting there.
"Which by the way, Molly thought was a great idea."
"Absolutely. Not! I cannot believe—how long did you know about this? And when did Alex even unveil this plan? Does he not know of the fucking peril of letting a nine year old kid with the appetite of a tiger in a safari attraction—which by the way, is not a lot, considering the tiger has been 'considerably tamed' but it still eats everything that's being thrown to it because it's bored—ride a roller coaster afterwards? I swear to the heavens and all its Gods—his meticulousness will be the death of us all and I will make damn well sure his will be from Molly's hands...No—from the deep, deep recesses of his regrets because he will sit next to he—That better be a nervous laugh regarding this whole circumstance for your sake, Chase Stein. That better be not a 'omg im dead' laugh because you got me to ta—Oh my Gods. You got me to talk."
By this time, Chase was coming down from after laughter, unbridled howling winding down into bubbles of giggles until it comes to the full stop: an amused, cheeky grin rivalling the frustrated frown on Gert's face.
"Very clever."
"It was very much worth it." The grin on his face slightly dissipates, "But really, the whole thing was half truth-half modified. Alex did have a plan, but it was hazy and was just random babbling, that nerd."
For all the amusement swelling throughout him, it's still easily overtaken by the ease that's slowly settling in his chest when her shoulders deflate.
But God, Chase knows Gert. And the silence from the brunette speaks volumes.
"Something's on your mind."
Gert's eyes widen for a split-second and she opens her mouth...Hesitating...Her gaze sharply drops down and she clamps her mouth. Chase's gaze doesn't waver, she's surprised to see, as hers shyly drift back towards him. It's unfair, how his silence, ever so patient and still, easily coaxes her. "I...I lost."
Chase blinks, "At the very least, we didn't have anything at stake."
"No..." A meek whisper. Chase immediately cringes, disliking it.
"No, it's not about that." Even with the increased volume, the tone still sounds wrong. So out of place. That doesn't belong to Gert.
Why it sounds out of place, why there's familiarity creeping onto him, why it even has a place—
In a sharp intake of breath, Chase remembers it all.
"It's—I lost, Chase." She huffs and he clings to it. "I couldn't keep my mouth shut for five minutes. I'm...."
Gert trails off and Chase feels the need to screw his eyes shut because the silence is unbearable and he doesn't need his issues to fill the space, his mouth, and inevitably spill all over the place, but Gert—Gert needs the space to think things through, to raise and create routes she can walk on. The silence if she chooses to form words and all the time she needs for the price of commanding it. The patience. Chase's patience.
That's already a given.
So he resists the need. Instead, Chase scoots closer to the brunette, not enough for his weight to lean on Gert, just enough for shoulders to meet and bridge a wave of comfort before lulling Gert to the ocean's breathing, a familiar one-two thrum from the welcomed contact.
"I guess I really am that talkative."
( The shame that drips from the statement pours itself all over his heart. A sticky, scorching, goo farthest from inflicting damage, but painful nonetheless. )
"Hey..." A single syllable uttered, almost whispered, with an unreasonable amount of softness was enough for the girl in question to whip her attention to the boy who had the answer. "If it helps you, it helps."
An unceremonious scoff morphed into a snort at the last minute fills the air. Gert spits, "Of course. That's such a thing you'd say."
"Gert..." Chase presses, voice still consistently soft, but tone now laced with something else.
"I know, it should be simple. But sometimes, I get looks. And it makes me feel all rotten inside because those signify that I'm being too much and I should stop, but it's my defense mechanism and I can't — " A strangled sigh escapes. "I'm sorry."
Chase shakes his head, "Don't apologize. Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault."
Gert squints. "That sounds oddly familiar."
"Mean Girls."
"Seriously?!"
"Verbatim." The grin on Chase's lips soften into a relaxed smile. "But still, the point stands."
Gert's hunched shoulders deflate a bit. So he's in the right track.
"You know, I wouldn't even have known what verbatim is if not for your many rants on agreements being written instead of being verbalized."
"It's verbal legal agreements being written."
Chase flushes, wincing a bit. "Oh..."
Gert smiles, though. "But you've been listening."
And that's enough for a smile to easily stretch on his lips, embarrassment forgotten. "Yeah. But I'm not gonna lie, most times, I don't know what you're talking about."
The smile Gert sports turns into a laugh. Chase takes it as a chance to stand. He offers his hand and Gert takes it, also propping herself up.
"Sometimes, this happens."
Gert raises a brow, walking in silence for a beat before letting curiosity take over her. “This being—”, she cuts herself off, mostly confused as to why they were in their garage. “What…”
Chase slides through the door, navigating easily to the area behind garden tools and between junk car parts. He heaves a… frame up? And a large one, at that—Damn, it was almost the size of the boy’s torso.
With a grin, an uneasy one, from Gert’s perspective what with the slight pucker of his cheeks from his lips being forced, Chase shifts towards her and turns the frame around to reveal a spectrum of preserved butterflies in it, arranged as a gradient between blue-colored butterflies to violet-colored ones.
Gert gapes. “Chase, holy shit.”
“It’s something I picked up from your rambling about butterflies.” Chase sheepishly remarks, handing the frame to her. “I figured that you adored them because there was something different with the way you talked about them.”
Despite the grin on her face, Gert decidedly feels the need to maintain snark at all costs, “What way?” She fails, it comes out softly. In awe.
“....I dunno?” Even Chase was smiling, albeit a bit abashed. “I just—It felt like….When compared to you talking about economics and socio-political stuff, you seemed more….lively when you talked about it.”
Gert hums, “....I don’t even remember talking about butterflies, to be honest.”
“It was only once, as far as I know.”
“And yet—” A chortle bubbles from Get’s lips and she doesn’t get to finish her sentence because she snorts, so many snorts spill from the now amused girl and fill the garage.
And extensively, Chase’s heart.
( A pang . )
“Thanks, Chase.”
( Twisting. )
“Happy birthday, Gert.”
( The throbbing does not cease. Maybe it never will, for as long as he sees this through. A punishment. )
— — —
He holds a staring contest with the coffin.
But Chase doesn't see, doesn't register that they're lowering Amy's body to the ground.
His eyes remain unblinking, as if staring can revert time to when everything was alright.
( As it goes, however, everything goes downhill from there .)
Molly crumbling in front of Amy. In front of them. Alex's disappearance. Nico closing in on herself. Karolina becoming more involved with the Gibborim than with them. PRIDE hugging their children. His parents squashing him in their arms. Sports as therapy. Picking up Lacrosse again.
For once, something helped.
But bronze medals. His dad. Smack. Smack . Smack. Tears. Mom. A+s. Smile? Frown? Lips in tight line? Lips in tight line. Students. Students. Purple hair. Enamel pins. Horn-rimmed glasses. Knitted eyebrows. Words. Words...
"Chase—Your bruises! Hold—Wait, hold on! I need to get you to the clinic!"
The sting of the disinfectant burns in the crook of his elbow, not quite enough for him to cry out in pain, but enough to make him feel something.
He looks up and sees Gert.
"I..." He hears his voice sounding croaky when it's actually not, "...Thanks."
"...You know you can talk to me, right?"
He nods once. A sigh escapes his lips.
"I see. In your own time, then."
( In his own time ...)
"But—don't wait too long, I don't want this happening to you again. I can't let this happen to you again...." Gert sounds like she's going to burst to tears any moment. But she's Gert. So with a firm tone, as firm as she can mask, she offers, "Just...Do you maybe want to go to my house for dinner?"
Gert's house. It sounded like a destination out of the country. ( It was out of the question to begin with .)
A journey to a place that will take them hours to get there. ( Almost a month, rather .)
But nevertheless, a safe haven worth the trip. ( Momentarily...Unfortunately .)
"Is that...." Molly seemed bigger, looked more of a grown up in less than two months time, but disregarding the heavy pitter-patter of her once light footsteps—the way she ran towards him and hugged his midsection, nestling her forehead on his chest was still so remarkably Molly. "....Chase, oh my God."
Chase lets himself be hugged back together. Closing his eyes, he lowers down to ruffle the younger one’s curls. “Hey, Molls.”
Dale and Stacey welcome him with large servings and indistinct banter as they used to. Everything was as how he remembered it with the Yorkes and dinner was no exception, save for the fact that it was warmer than he recalled it was. Homier.
Nothing like the Stein household.
“Where have you been?”
Nothing like Stein.
“...Huh. So you’ve been in the Yorkes. That’s fine.”
“It—It is?”
“Yeah, but now, break time’s over. You’re not going anywhere near them anymore.”
Nothing.
That was the final say. The verdict. The foot slamming down to linoleum, anchoring the finality of his words. It’s a privilege only available to Victor Stein and he knows it, because he immediately puts another foot down and walks out.
Everything spills out no more than a second after.
“You don’t get to do that!”
Anger, fear, disbelief, courage, fear, frustration, fear, fear, fearfearfear—cracks in the edges of the single howl he has ever dared raise to his own father. Among the countless times he chased him, hoping to nudge the anchored foot just a tiny bit, Victor never wavered. Never looked back. Never went back on his word.
This time, Chase made him turn around.
This time, he’s pushed Chase’s breaking point. If he doesn’t relent, he’ll lose everything.
“I love them, dad. The Yorkes—they’re, I can’t lose them. I...I can’t lose Gert.”
“You just did.”
“I can’t! I can’t—I love her! With Gert, I—”
The slap that lands on his cheek reverberates. It reverberates throughout him that he heaves, yells, anything and everything he can do to justify that the pain is nothing compared to how broken he is and will be. However, Victor has never been one to stand idly. He changes. Erases. Replaces the pain to something incomparable. With each outcry Chase makes, each reiteration, each confession, the same confession over and over, Victor adds to it. And his intensity grows just as Chase’s diminishes.
Until all that’s left were splotches on his skin.
And it’s only until then that Chase is left alone in an empty mansion.
Only until then that he permits himself to cry.
( He has always cried quickly, of soundless wracking and heaving, never allowing himself beyond a split-second display of vulnerability—before fingers swiping on damp eyes halt tears in its descent and seal the moment away. He mimes the action.
For it is a reminder of the years in between them .) With one final sniff, he stands despite the difficulty.
( An acknowledgement to this moment .) Nevertheless, he does not cradle himself. (To him.) Chase opts to head to his washroom, thinking beyond the band aid on his skin and more on the wound on his chest.
He thinks of her with every attempt.
“Chase—Honey, what do you need post—Your…Your father’s looking for you.”
“In a bit, mom. I’ll be home soon.”
“Wai—Vict— Chase . It’ll be best for you to go home now. I know where you are.”
With every attempt.
“You’re late again.”
“Extracurricular.”
“…And yet, you weren’t in the game.”
“How would you kn—”
“Attend your practices, Chase. This is a warning.”
Every. Attempt.
“Dude—Are you actually writing?”
“It’s none of your busi—”
“Wha’cha say you go to this party with us instead? Free booze.”
Every ampttte.
“Oh, shit—Look’t ‘im go!”
“Shit! He fell down—! Hol’ up, ‘need to piss.”
He of thinks her. Her thinks he of. Thinks he of her. Of thinks of her.
“…Chase? Chase—Urk, it’s okay, let it all out. I…I got you.”
“….Ge…rt? D'you receive my...letters? I'm so sorry. ”
“It’s…Karolina.”
He thinks…
“What were you thinking, Chase? Drinking? Parties? How many times does this make—This isn’t like you.”
“Mom. Please, my head—”
“Sorry, I'm just…So glad you’re okay. But this is not a good practice. I…Maybe I should get you some help.”
He…
“Hello, Chase. I'm Dr. Smith. How are you today?”
He thinks of her!
“I see. Gert Yorkes, was it?”
Attempt.
“Hey, Chase. For today’s session, we’re going to do a little exercise to relieve yourself from your worries.”
He. What is he doing?! He can’t. He!
“…Yes…His therapy is going smoothly, despite the minor scuffs from the first few attempts—as you’ve known, he was very persistent. Perhaps in a month’s time, your son will be normal. Oh…I understand, it will be doable within less or so, however, he might pose strange patterns….I see. Alright, thank you, Mr. Stein.”
“Mister Stein?”
“Chase…I didn’t see you there. Sorry, I was talking to my wife’s client. Shall we get back, then?”
He thinks.
What was he supposed to think about again?
“Mom…You’re home early.”
“Chase? You’re already here? Oh—You look great. What’s going on? You have a date?”
“What—No! I’m going out with my team.”
“Oh, post-victory celebration’s today. Right. …For a second there, I was going to tell you to change. I’m pretty sure Gert liked your trench coat look.”
“ Gert? ”
“Yeah…Did she not?”
“…Mom, no. Why do you keep pairing me with her?”
“Why—Because you said you liked her, honey.”
“Oh—kay! I don’t know what you’re on about, but heh, alright. Gotta go now, mom, ‘love you.”
“Chase…”
( He thinks of her, because the boy giving out fist bumps and hoots with no regard for his surroundings can’t. )
“Karolina, hey. Guess we’re working on this together, huh?”
“Chase! Wow, look at you. You’re looking…a whole lot better. Okay, I didn’t mean to sound like that friend you haven’t talked to for a decade—Well, technically, I am but…The last time I saw you was at that party, Chase. I really wanted to reach out but I’ve been so busy with the church and I’m really sorry I didn’t try harder.”
“Party? What are you talking about?”
“Uhh…Brandon’s party? I—uhh, was there by…coincidence and you were really drunk, I took care of you.”
“Oh. Oh, that was you?”
“Yeah.”
“ Wow , that was um—Thanks.”
He thinks. Stumbles across an old memory.
“— Chase. ”
It was Karolina.
“Sorry, you were saying?”
Karolina was the first.
“I said, you should stop spacing out…Alex was looking at us earlier—”
It was due to Karolina Dean that Chase first learns that love does exist .
“But Gert hasn’t stopped staring at us.”
That was his truth. That is Chase’s truth.
( Wrong. Wrongwrongwrong wrong …His screams, whispers, pleads, echo but it will never reach him.)
“Oh. Why is she staring?”
(He should know that by now. Just as he should know that this is not a punishment.)
“Because she’s jea—I mean, come on, Chase, she’s like four seats away from us. Don’t you see her?”
(But a chance to atone.)
“I don’t.”
— — —
Goosebumps trickle the crook of his elbow when Gert confronts him after that class.
( “Chase, we need to talk.”
“Are you…Actually talking to me?”
“Yes, I am. Our agreement—remember? After the dinner—was that I give you time and space. Granted, I should be apologizing for not even checking on you a month and a half later and that was stupid of me for wanting to make sure that I wasn’t being unnecessarily nosy as I always am, but to see you talking to Karolina—Are you even listening to me?”
“Y’know, when I asked that question, I was asking because I’m surprised you’re even here.”
“What do you mean…”
“And what do you mean by a month and a half, I wasn’t on speaking terms with you way before that.”
“That’s quite an exaggeration—”
“Sure.”
“Did you just roll your eyes—Where are you going?! Chase! ”)
A decade later, Gert still had that effect on him.
( “Woof! Woof! Let’s go, champs!”
“Ugh—Shit. My books! Fucking jocks.”
“Who-ah, nice one, Chase! ”)
A broken seventeen-year old girl who doesn’t know for now that she’s capable of saving the world and more, wields nothing but wit and words as her poison, just like four other broken teenagers.
( “Whoa. Those the—uh, what’d you call them—hand blasters? So cool you’re still working on them.” )
Among a group of other unknowing children, his childhood friends, the friends he once grew apart of, reunited with, fought alongside with, and became the closest to his definition of a family—Among the Runaways…
She was his first call.
“Hey, Gert, um—this is a really long shot, but I hope you get this. This is Chase, from the future.”