Archive of Our Own

It was Bobby’s idea. Bobby’s the one who saw Luke tensing more and more, the way his phone started ringing and Luke started not answering. Bobby’s the one who saw Alex get that little bit more withdrawn, yet still trying to reach out like they’re all going to vanish from his life without a word. Bobby’s the one who sees how Reggie takes that extra moment before he leaves to work.

So yes, it’s all Bobby’s idea, but he’s not the one who really gets it running. That falls to all of them. Alex, as usual, picks a place that works for all of them and the others keep him from overthinking it all too much. They pick the length of time, figure out whose car to take, and take leave for work.

Reggie drives them because he’s one of the best driving-wise. Luke’s usually not allowed to drive because he has a habit of listening to music and then parking when he gets an idea to scribble it all down. Alex can drive, is good at it too, but prefers not to. And Bobby drives, but he’s willing to not drive too.

They head off early, largely to beat traffic, and also because there’s no reason not to leave early. At first, all of them had been excited and eager to leave. But all too soon, Luke drops off to sleep in the back, head pillowed against a scrunched-up hoody. Glancing in the mirror, Bobby catches sight of Alex looking rather tired too. It makes sense, Bobby’s fairly certain that the other had been up until the early hours of the morning talking to Willie on the phone.

He catches Reggie’s gaze in the mirror and smiles. It’s comforting, in the early hour. Peaceful and Bobby had kind of forgotten how that felt. There was nothing important, nothing pulling at him. The radio’s crooning something gentle and peaceful and country.

Bobby glances out the window, watching the landscape pass them by. He settles in for the car ride. They’ve got a while still to go.

After an hour and a half of driving, Reggie pulls into a parking lot for a fast-food restaurant. The highway isn’t far behind them and they do actually need to return to it. For now, though, they can have a break and stretch their legs.

Rather than actually go into the fast-food restaurant, however, Reggie catches sight of the playground opposite them and is off with a loud shout. Luke’s quick on his heels and Bobby glances over at Alex, who’s the only one still standing with him by the car.

Alex catches his gaze and grins, “Loser has to pay!” He doesn’t even pause to clarify what exactly the loser will be paying for, just sprints across the road on freakishly long legs. There’s no way Bobby’s going to catch Alex who is, somehow, the fastest of all of them, but Luke is still lagging and there’s a way to go so Bobby takes off.

Their footsteps pound against the ground, loud, and they must look so strange—adults racing each other to the playground. Bobby couldn’t care less, though. He laughs, the wind stealing it away from him, and closes the gap between him and Luke.

However, before the playground there’s a downhill section. Bobby reaches it just in time to watch Luke trip and go tumbling downwards, rolling down the hill. It makes Bobby come to a stop, wheezing, because of course Luke did that.

Except Bobby stops in the worst spot, and he suddenly finds himself wavering, off balance by the strength of his laughter. He has time for one loud curse and then he’s tumbling forwards down the gentle incline. The world spins around him, blurring together in green and blue, and then he comes to a stop at the bottom.

The world continues to spin around him. “I actually hate everything,” he announces to the world.

Beside him, Luke groans in companionship. Bobby stares up with squinted eyes at the sky, the clouds still spinning but getting slower bit by bit. Two faces appear, blocking the sunlight.

The faces might be shadowed, but Bobby doesn’t need the light to see who it is. For a second, he considers getting up. But the grass is surprisingly comfortable and the clouds are forming shapes above. “You should join us,” he says.

Luke hums in agreement. “It’s obviously part of the plan,” he says, even though they all know it was bullshit because there’s no way Luke didn’t fall by accident. “It’s cloud watching hours.”

Bobby snorts. It’s such a Luke thing to say. However, his snort sends the rest of them off and suddenly they’re staring up at the sky, wheezing with laughter, barely able to breathe. Luke keeps hiccupping when he tries to stop laughing and Alex is silent except for his wheezing and Reggie is crying. Just when Bobby thinks they have themselves under control, something happens and unleashes more laughter.

Eventually, after far too much time spent laughing, they fall silent. Bobby stares up at the sky, the way the clouds chase after each other lazily. He doesn’t look for pictures in them, but there’s vague familiar outlines that are easy to spot. The neck of a guitar. The triangle of a guitar pick. The odd shape of a hi-hat cymbal. The slightly warped shape of a microphone.

There’s a car to be driven and a trip to be completed. But, for the moment, Bobby just basks in the sunlight and warmth of his companions. Already, this trip has proven to be well worth the struggle of creating it.

Bobby finishes off the rest of the drive, Reggie shifting to the back where he uses Luke as a pillow. Alex joins Bobby in the front, fiddling with the radio before he eventually leaves it on some station playing pop hits.

They’ve still got a fair way to go, but the miles disappear beneath the car wheels. Soon, the scenery begins to change, the standard highway appearance giving way for more rural areas. Farm animals appear as distant blobs of colour and greenery stretches out.

The road has only just begun to curl upwards when Reggie wakes up. “How long to go?” Their bassist says, words partially slurred from sleep. Bobby checks on the pair in the back in the rear-view mirror, and catches Reggie rubbing his eyes, Luke grinning fondly.

“Not long,” Alex reports from where he’s squinting at the phone they’ve been using as a GPS. “Maybe twenty minutes if we don’t get lost.”

“We won’t get lost,” Bobby says confidently. The silence that follows his statement makes him frown. “We won’t get lost,” he reiterates. “I promise. Anyway, Al, you want to change the music for us? I’m getting bored of this old thing.”

“Can do,” Alex says.

“Wait!” Luke’s yell cuts Alex’s sentence in half and almost makes Bobby swerve off the road. He curses loudly, steadying the car, and catches sight of Reggie punching Luke in the shoulder.

“Ouch!” Luke complains.

“You deserved that,” Reggie says. “No shouting and surprising the driver. Them’s the rules.”

To that, Luke has nothing to say, but he seems to have forgotten it as he reaches into his backpack and rummages around for something. “I brought some CDs,” he announces cheerfully, like he didn’t almost kill them all.

“Please tell me you didn’t make a road trip playlist,” Alex begs from the front seat. Bobby can’t help but grin.

His grin grows at Reggie’s response, “Please tell me you did make one!”

“That would’ve been such a good idea,” Luke says. “Next time though, I promise!”

Alex’s groan echoes loudly in the car and Bobby almost snorts at the dramatics. “Anyway, here’s a CD. Put it on Alex and stop complaining because you have bad taste.”

“I don’t have bad taste,” Alex complains even as he takes the CD from Luke, opening the case and placing the CD down. “You just have taste that frequently involves a lot of screaming and very loud noises. It’s hard to listen to when I’m after something a little bit softer.”

“You’re a drummer,” Reggie says. “How do you not like loud noises?”

“It’s not like I don’t like loud noises, but-”

“A drummer,” Reggie repeats, voice louder than Alex’s. “HOW?”

“It’s-”

“Loud noises. You don’t like. Alex, you play the drums,” Bobby says, jumping in on the teasing.

Slumping against his seat, Alex groans and angrily pokes the radio buttons. “You’re all mean and I hate all of you.”

“Hey! What did I do?”

“This is your CD Luke, you started this entire thing,” Alex promptly responds, just before the opening bars of the song begins playing.

Bobby grins as Alex turns the radio dial up, sending the volume soaring. He opens the window beside him just as they all begin to belt out the lyrics like they’ve never heard of silence in their lives.

The car crunches over the gravel as Bobby pulls into the carpark. They’d had the choice between renting a cabin of some description and actually going full-on camping, but the amenities of being inside had appealed to them more.

After stepping out of the door, Bobby stretches, twisting and sending his spine cracking. Behind him, Luke complains about the sound and Bobby sticks his tongue out in response.

“He just needs to check he still has all his bones,” Reggie says, which has Bobby turning to squint at him in confusion. Catching their confusion, Reggie raises an eyebrow, “You know, because you adsorb new bones whenever you do your magic thing.”

“I… don’t even know where to start with that,” Bobby says, caught between focussing on Reggie calling necromancy ‘your magic thing’ and the fact Reggie believes he adsorbs bones.

Luke keels over, hooting in laughter. “I can’t believe you believe that! Still!”

Frowning, Bobby tries to remember what Luke means by still. An awful feeling starts to come over him.

See, when Bobby first told the others about his magic, he hadn’t been planning to. As a result, he’d shared his not-so-secret-secret with the band on April the first. The others hadn’t believed him at first, but Bobby had proven the truth to them. After doing so, however, he’d joked ‘I adsorb bones to do this’ and… and then he’d told them he was joking when-

“You were in the bathroom,” Alex realises, coming to the realisation that Bobby just did. “You never got told that-”

“I was joking!”

Reggie stares at them all. Possibly in shock, but his expression could also be indicative of horror. “I can’t believe you let me believe that for so many years.”

“But like. Where did you think he was getting the bones from?” Luke asks and he sounds curious more than anything else, which likely isn’t good for Bobby’s blood pressure.

Shrugging, Reggie scratches the back of his neck. “I was thinking he like snatched them and adsorbed them or something? Or his magic was creating them.”

“You’re a witch,” Alex says, sounding mildly despairing. “You know you can’t make something from nothing even with magic.”

Reggie flaps a hand at the taller boy. “You’re technically always making something from something and that something might be magic. The only rules are there are the ones you can accept. Work your way around them.”

“You scare me Reginald,” Bobby says, taking a step forward so that he can loop an arm around Reggie’s shoulders. “One day you’re going to rule the world.”

“And what will the rest of you be doing?” Reggie asks. “In this fictional world where I rule the world.”

“Firstly, it isn’t fictional, you definitely rule my world,” Luke says then, without pausing and letting them consider his words, he continues, “and also, we’ll be all together as we destroy the music world. During which, Alex will finally get the courage to propose to Willie and Bobby will realise that there’s nothing wrong with having necromancy and society’s the problem. And everyone will realise that I don’t have siren heritage.”

Bobby considers such a future and finds himself smiling. “You know,” he says, “that’s going to be our future. Without a doubt.” Pausing, he considers it, “Actually, one doubt. Willie might propose to Alex first.”

Somewhere to his left, Alex squawks and Bobby laughs, and it feels like magic all on its own.

Usually, Bobby’s not one to stay up all hours of the night, regardless of what stereotypes surround necromancers. People think that because necromancy is dark frequently believe that necromancers must therefore be awake at night. Which is stupid.

But this time it’s not exactly wrong.

Bobby’s not sure why he’s up either. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable or too warm and it’s not the new location that’s keeping him awake—it never has before. Sighing quietly, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed before standing up.

Unplugging his phone, he picks it up to shove in his jacket pocket as he shrugs the massive puffer jacket on. Then, he shoves his bare feet into his runners and shuffles out the door with only one side glance at the others. It looks like both Alex and Luke are sound asleep, somehow having squished themselves into a double bed. Reggie, though, appears to be missing.

That doesn’t worry him though. Reggie’s mind often keeps him awake when he wants to be sleeping and Bobby knows one of their many, many chats will have a message from his wayward bandmate.

Stepping outside, Bobby shivers from the chill of the night, before zipping his jacket up. Above, an almost-whole moon shines, white and florescent. It looks impossibly bright, and so do the stars decorating the sky. Out the front of the cabin, Bobby debates where to go. One path leads closer to the lake and the other heads closer to more bush areas.

The bush sounds like a good way to get murdered at night, so Bobby decides to avoid that path even if it is apparently well-lit.

Arms crossed, Bobby soldiers out into the cold. On the edges of the campsite, the forest hovers, shadowy and rustling. The few trees peppered around are solitary things, shadows looming but somehow far less intimidating. Streetlights hang overhead, lights yellow and dotted with moths that flock to them.

The world feels silent, feels strange, feels quiet. It’s like an impossible inversion of the world at daylight, but somehow not quite. It feels very, very far from street life. Bobby’s not entirely sure how he feels about that.

Bobby catches sight of a silhouette ahead, not much more than a dark outline in the light, shadowed. But it’s a familiar silhouette, one that makes it easier to breathe. It might not be Reggie, but Bobby feels like it is.

He can’t sense the others, not with magic, but it’s not magic that has him guessing it’s Reggie. It’s familiarity. It’s knowing people for years and leaving space beside you for them. It’s living with people and knowing them and their routines. It’s friendship through the years and choices made, again and again.

It’s what has Bobby skipping a step forward to fall into step with Reggie. “Hey,” he says, glancing sideways. “Mind a friend?”

Reggie lifts his gaze from the ground, turning to catch Bobby’s eyes. “No,” he says, voice soft. “Never.” The shadows don’t darken Reggie’s face, but soften it. Not to say that Reggie’s hard or anything—but the darkness has a way of making things a bit softer, a bit gentler. It’s like you can hide anything in the darkness and no one will tell. It’s a time for secrets to be shared without fear.

Bobby doesn’t ask if Reggie’s alright, just walks beside him in quiet companionship. Beside them, the tops of the trees sway gently in the breeze. After a few minutes of silence, they reach a bench.

They sit down and turn their eyes towards the lake. It’s silent, like much of the night around them. The wind isn’t low enough to even ruffle the water, leaving it only a smooth mirror of the sky. Bobby feels like he could get lost in the sky’s reflection, that warped imitation.

Reggie yawns and drops his head on Bobby’s shoulder. “‘M sleepy,” he says, but not like he’s really exhausted. Not like the bone-deep tired they sometimes get, where the world drags at your heels and tugs at your shoulders. It’s a quieter kind of tired. A better one, Bobby sometimes thinks, because the world’s a bit easier to bear.

“Yeah,” Bobby agrees, minutes too late. “Yeah, me too.”

Something in the lake moves, a snout rising, sending the water rippling. Bobby nudges Reggie’s head. “Hey, look.” The water around shimmers, like asphalt on hot days, like a glamour of magic has been cast over the top of it.

“What do you reckon it is?” Reggie asks, lifting his head.

Bobby hums. “Could be anything,” he says. And the best part is that it really could be anything. The possibilities are endless.

Somehow, impossibly, Reggie catches his thoughts, hums a something pretty and soft. Bobby presses their shoulders together. He’s not like Luke, can’t pen out lyric line after lyric line, form songs from nothing but his own thoughts and emotions.

But, in the silence of the night, with so much of the world, it’s easy to scratch words into existence, voice hoarse and out of tune. Still, though, he sings quietly to Reggie and the world around him. Sings about the quietness of the world, the comfort of the shadows, the warmth of the moon, the calmness of the lake. Sings about the infinite possibilities and endless futures stretching out ahead of them.

It’s not much, maybe two, three lines all up. But, at the end of it, Reggie smiles and it feels like there’s a sun in Bobby’s chest, shooting warmth throughout his body. He can’t ever imagine feeling cold like this. He smiles back, helpless to do otherwise. They don’t say ‘I love you’, don’t need to. It’s clear in their gestures, their words, how any future Bobby imagines his boys are with them.

Reggie entwines their fingers and squeezes gently. In front of them, the lake ripples once again and the snout submerges. The rest of the night awaits them, but Bobby doesn’t care about that. He didn’t before and he doesn’t know.

But it’s easier, being awake, when he’s not alone. He wishes Reggie could sleep easily, but doesn’t regret finding himself beside Reggie. Together, they watch the lake and slowly, the night fades away.

“Let’s go on a hike!”

“Oh god, let’s not,” Reggie immediately replies, flopping over Luke rather than getting up as he’d been about to. “Anything but that, please.”

“Come on,” Luke whines. “It’ll be fun!”

“And if we get lost?” Bobby says. “Simply because you want to take the path ‘less travelled’ or something.” He makes air quotes around the phrase ‘less travelled’ just to emphasise his point some more.

“We just stick to the path,” Luke says, attempting a shrug despite the fact he’s trapped under Reggie.

“You’ve done it before,” Alex says, arms crossed. “And we weren’t in a forest like we are now. We were in a park. A park Luke! And we got lost! Because we decided to go off-track and look how that ended. We had to get out our phones and locate ourselves on Google Maps. What if we lose signal out here? Or if we run out of water! Or if it begins to storm? Or-”

“We’ll stick to the paths,” Luke says, slightly less grumpy before. “I promise. And we’ll check the weather before as it’s been accurate so far.”

“And we’ll take at least one water bottle each,” Bobby adds. “We’ll keep an eye on the time too so that we don’t stay away for too long.”

“But if you don’t want to, we won’t go,” Reggie says, glancing up at Alex.

Alex sighs, arms dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says, shoulders a touch too high. There’s not much they can do about that, though, except ensure that they take all the precautions they can to ease Alex’s anxiety.

“So that’s a yes?” Luke asks, perking up, and Bobby rolls his eyes even as Alex nods and begins getting together things for their walk. There’s not much to pack, just their jackets, some snacks, and water bottles.

Soon enough, they’re out the door, Luke with one backpack on and Reggie with the other. “Where abouts did you want to go?” Bobby asks, glancing at Luke. There are a number of trails around after all.

“Either the lookout point or just the easy trail,” Luke frowns. “I think it was called-”

“The one that starts by the lake jetty thing right?” Reggie says, interrupting. Luke nods. “I know the one! Though I can’t remember its name at all.”

The trail, when they find it, is near where Reggie had thought it was, with a sign proclaiming its name, distance, and the estimated amount of time. “Bet you we’ll take longer,” Bobby says.

“What are you betting?” Luke immediately asks.

“Five cents,” Bobby responds promptly. “I’m broke, I’ve got nothing else to my name.”

Pointing at him, Luke says, “Firstly, I know that’s false because you work. Secondly, that’s false because you’re part of our band and I know how much we’re making when we play gigs. Thirdly, if we’re having a bet, I want you to bet that you’re going to be nicer to Pan from now on.”

“Just let the fucking bird go,” Bobby says. “I hate that bird and that bird hates me!”

“Pan loves you,” Reggie says and Bobby throws his hands up into the air. How the skeleton owl has fooled his bandmates into believing it’s not a thing of the devil, Bobby has no idea.

“One day that bird’s going to murder you and I’m going to haunt your ghostly asses just to say I told you so.”

“I don’t… I don’t think you can haunt a ghost,” Alex says. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You don’t know. It could be. You’re not a ghost!”

“He’s got a point,” Luke says, turning around to walk backward just to watch them as they talk. Bobby narrows his eyes. Luke’s going to fall over like that, just wait and watch. Some people could manage it, but Luke’s definitely not one of them.

“I’m just going to leave that conversation where it is,” Reggie says, “and derail it slightly. Alex, want to talk about Willie at all?”

Alex almost trips, arms flailing, and Bobby probably should’ve taken into consideration that Alex’s gay panic would make him trip. It seems like an Alex thing to do. Actually, once falling over and being clumsy had been Alex’s whole thing, especially when he’d been shooting through growth spurt after growth spurt and never quite sure of his height or reach. “I-” He swallows, and Bobby lifts his head, checking on Alex. But the taller boy looks fine, not anxious or anything, instead he’s just blushing.

“We’re good,” Alex says, words soft. Around them, the forest decides it suddenly needs to bloom. “Like really, really good. I know… It’s only been a few months, but it feels safe with him.”

“That’s so good,” Reggie says, smiling, reaching out and squeezing Alex’s hand. “I’m so happy for you, you deserve the best SO.”

Somehow, against all odds, Alex turns even pinker like he’s been out in the sun too long. “Even… Even if I didn’t get a boyfriend, I don’t- It wouldn’t matter. I had you guys. That was all I really needed. It is all I need and everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s- You’re family.”

Bobby can’t help but smile at that, bumping shoulders with Alex, just before Luke slams into them and takes them all tumbling down to the ground. The dust covers them and Bobby coughs, then wheezes as an elbow catches him in the gut.

Even as they scramble in the dust, complaining and grinning, Bobby can’t imagine feeling anything less than love. It’s not perfect, not when there’s dust coating them and there’s dirt in Bobby’s eyes, but his boys are with him and they’re laughing and loving. It’s enough. It’s more than enough.

There’s something not right about the lake, though Bobby doesn’t know what. But it wakes him up in the middle of the night. He stares up at the ceiling above. It’s almost too dark to make anything out, but he traces a crack that crosses half of it. Is it worth getting out of bed?

The lake calls to him again and Bobby curses in his head. Shoving himself upright, he forces his feet into his shoes and steals the first jacket-like thing he sees, sliding his arms into the sleeves. The sleeves are long, dropping past his fingers, and the hoody’s a light colour so it’s probably Alex’s. But it’s warm and that’s all that really matters. Bundled up, he heads outside.

Magic flickers to his fingers, sparking and haunting. It feels wrong. Not- It’s not like Bobby’s kind of magic, necromancy, that sings to him and begs for him to use it. Even with necromancy, Bobby gets a vague sense of the spirit clinging to the bones, what they want. But right now? It doesn’t feel like the sense he gets from bones.

This feels like something else entirely. It’s not necromantic magic, he can tell that much. The fact he can feel it, however, indicates that it’s something. Bobby’s not that sensitive to magic, not like some other people are; people who can sense latent magic, especially when there are abnormal amounts.

The magic calls to him. It feels like wading through a cold river, freezing and struggling against the current. It feels like shivering, arms crossed, as you go home late at night when there’s only silence on the streets. It feels like bones jarring when you hit the ground, shudders running up your legs.

Magic isn’t evil, it’s intent that’s evil, but magic can be dark. And- And Bobby knows dark magic—he’s a necromancer. But this? This is somehow worse.

Shuddering, Bobby turns away from the lake. He doesn’t want to see it. Not tonight. Not when the moon is inching closer to full and the lake is calm and steady despite the wind that’s causing the trees to whisper amongst themselves.

Instead, he heads towards the main area of the campsite. He passes the playground, cold and lonely. The wood looks dark in the shadows; the metal of the slide gleams threatening in the moonlight. Bobby looks away.

There’s the food area on his right, a short turn later. The covered area has a few long lights that are far too yellow for his liking. Inside, the light is white and the world seems friendly—but it also seems impersonal. It reminds him of the city they’ve left behind.

Past that are a bunch of picnic tables laid out. There’s lighting here, though not much. Under one of the streetlights, someone is hunched over the table. The studs of their black leather jacket gleam in the light.

It’s a familiar jacket, more so for the glimmering back of it which spells out ‘REGGIE’. It’s not one of Reggie’s main jackets, an old one from years ago, kept only out of sentiment. But that clearly tells Bobby that it’s one of his bandmates. Not Alex, because Alex would probably take his hoody, and Reggie had conked out hours ago and Bobby had heard him snoring as he left.

Which leaves Luke. Bobby heads around the table, comes in from the other side so that Luke can see him approaching. Luke, however, doesn’t look up from where he’s scribbling away in a notebook. Writing music, Bobby assumes.

He sits down on the table, doesn’t say anything even when Luke looks up, just nods, and Luke goes back to writing. Using his arms as his pillow, Bobby closes his eyes. He doesn’t sleep, can’t with the magic tugging on him, but at least he can be here with Luke, even if the other doesn’t really need him at the moment.

Eventually, the sound of pen scratching paper stops and Bobby looks up, blinking blearily. He feels half-asleep, caught between actual sleep and being awake, yet unable to actually choose one. “Luke?”

“Hey Bobs,” Luke says, not quite smiling but gentle. Luke’s always gentle. Luke’s the warmth of the sun in the mornings, a hot cup in your hands on cold days, a blanket when the storm outside rages. Even in his worst moments when he’s angry and focussed and not hearing anyone else’s words, Luke never lets you doubt his love. “You doing alright there?”

Bobby hums. “Can’t sleep,” he says. He did, eventually, get some sleep last night. And he got sleep earlier too. He’ll probably sleep later, when he’s tired enough that the magic doesn’t seem to matter anymore. But until then, he’s stuck in this state.

“That sucks,” Luke says. “Anything I can help with?” If Bobby told Luke he wanted the world fixed, Luke would try to do it. If Bobby said the world had wronged him, Luke would fight the world—except he already tries that. For Bobby, Luke would do a lot of things. Bobby knows this.

But there’s some things that no one can do, not even Luke. So Bobby shrugs, a half-hearted thing, and Luke sighs, reaching across the table and linking their hands. Luke’s fingers are cold, frozen by the night, but it feels real. Grounding.

“Love you Bobs,” Luke says, gentle and kind and loving. He squeezes Bobby’s hands. “Want to hear my latest song idea? It’s rough.”

Sharing songs isn’t a love language, Bobby knows, but he thinks it should be. Songs say a lot about people—whether they’re favourites heard somewhere or ones written down. Sometimes a song is only a song, lyrics combined with a beat and notes and tying together to be something that you love because of the noise and rhythm of it all. Then there are the songs that are only songs but somehow more too. The ones where the lyrics bury themselves in your heart where you’ve made space for them, when the lyrics wind around your bones, when your heart beats to the song.

Luke writes those kind of songs, the ones that call to you and mean something. It’s not always clear, but Bobby knows how meaningful it is that Luke shares them, especially when they’re rough. Lyrics can be crossed out and written again and again, but the first draft of them? When things are broken and rough and not right? It might not be quite right, but the meaning is all too clear, all too rough.

“Sure,” Bobby says smiling, because Luke sharing his lyrics, the rough, first-drafted version of them, has always been a sign of love, a sign of trust. Trust that Bobby hopes never to break, never to destroy. It’s a fragile thing, held together by threads of string; a glass trembling on the edge of a table. It’s a lot of things, but it’s also a thing made over the years—choices and hard work, wrong decisions and making up for it all.

Maybe Luke catches what Bobby’s thinking, because he smiles, a soft thing. Then he opens his mouth and sings. Bobby closes his eyes and listens to it. The melody’s rough, a thing that warbles and strains, but it adds to it. The unfinished touch. Listening to it, Bobby can make out where he’d add some guitar in, where there’s a place for Reggie to have a riff, where Alex’s drums would come in.

And then, even beyond all the instruments, there’s the lyrics themselves. There are gaps, spaces where Luke hums a bar rather than says a word, but the lines string themselves together.

It’s not the kind of thing they normally sing about. Or it is, but a bit different too. It’s not less meaningful, because it’s Luke writing it, but it’s about the lake and the sky and the forest. It’s the trees whispering to you and the lake waving. There’s space for more though, lyrics that Bobby can begin to trace the outline of in his heart. A thing about infinite possibilities and endless futures.

It’s not a song, not yet. But in time… Bobby thinks it could be a good one.

The day feels like it should be sunny, but it’s really not. It’s humid and muggy and kind of gross, with the sky shadowed with grey clouds. It’s the kind of day you want to spent inside. Or at least, it’s the kind of day that makes Bobby want to spend the whole day inside.

The warmth sticks to him, and it makes him kind of want to take up Luke’s warped fashion style of sleeveless t-shirts. Even the others have given in to the heat, jackets left behind in the cabin as they wander the town.

It’s not a very big town, to say the least. Much smaller than their hometown and Bobby can’t imagine living out here, but it’s nice too. In that small town kind of way.

The people are friendly, even though they’re clearly from out of town. As they walk down the urban streets, talking and walking just for the sake of walking, people smile and wave at them. You’d think that in such a small town the people would be further apart, clinging to their privacy, but here they seem to welcome each other with open arms.

“Want to head to the park?” Bobby asks as they turn the corner of a street, having spotted the stretch of grass in front of them. “Sit down for a bit?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Reggie says, crossing the road. “Ooh, do you think there’s a playground?”

Alex wrinkles his nose. “Do you know how gross those things are? All those kids and all those germs?”

“Honestly, we’ve been in way worse places than some playground,” Luke says as they walk up the hill into the park. They reach a small oval first, trees clustered at one end before the fences of the houses. Then, beyond the oval, there’s the structure of a playground. It looks like every other kind of playground—monkey bars, slides, various platforms, but what catches Bobby’s attention is the flying fox part of it.

Before he can say anything about it, however, Alex takes off. Without pausing, Bobby launches after him, shouting, “What happened to children being gross?”

There’s no response but the pounding of footsteps and laughter from behind them. Alex, however, has gotten too much of a lead and despite the fact he takes a longer route to go through the gate while Bobby jumps the fence, Alex gets there first.

Bobby pauses on the platform, watching as Alex shoots across from one side of the playground to the other. Alex, however, doesn’t get very far. Instead, he stops within the first metre, long legs dragging along the ground. The flying fox stops and it looks, well, it just looks sad.

However, it’s Alex’s complete surprise that has Bobby folding over himself and wheezing in laughter. “Did you- Did you just- just forget your height?”

Alex pulls the flying fox back to the platform where Bobby is leaning against a metal post to keep himself standing. “I hate you,” he tells Bobby as the others reach them.

The others probably saw the whole thing happen and Bobby catches sight of Reggie and Luke’s wide grins, before he’s once again cackling and barely able to stand. “That’s what you get for trying to go first,” Luke tells Alex. “Should’ve just waited.”

“This is the one and only time being short is going to work for you,” Alex says. “Literally the only time.”

“I’m not short!” Luke protests and that has Bobby managing to somehow hold himself more upright. “I’m not!”

“You need to learn to let go of your delusions,” Reggie says in a faux-wise voice. “They’re not good for you.” In response, Luke punches him in the shoulder. “Oi! It’s not my fault you’re short!”

“I’m not short!” Luke repeats and this time there’s a moment of silence when they all look at him.

Then, Alex reaches out, pets Luke’s head like he’s a dog. “You’re short,” he says simply and then he makes a quick getaway on the flying fox, this time keeping his legs up and off the ground.

“I’m going to murder him,” Luke says.

Bobby shares a glance with Reggie. “You’ll have to catch him first,” Bobby points out. “And you might not be able to do that considering your height.”

Glaring daggers at him, Luke says, “Change of plans, I’m going to kill you first.”

“Woah, hold on!” Reggie stretches his arms out and blocks Luke’s charge. “We need our bandmates!”

Luke pauses, “I suppose,” he drawls.

“We did just get them trained up and everything,” Reggie says.

Turning to Reggie, aghast, Bobby says, “I thought you were on my side?!” Which is, of course, the moment Alex takes to return and slams back onto the platform. “They’re going to get rid of us.” Alex raises an eyebrow so, trying to be even more believable, Bobby launches himself forward to drape over Alex’s shoulders despite the fact Alex is taller than him. “They don’t love us anymore. They’re planning to abandon us to the friendless streets.”

Even though Alex definitely has no idea what’s going on, he adopts an exaggerated mournful expression. “It’s just you and me then,” he says. “May we be remembered for our music.”

Reggie throws himself forward and it’s only thanks to Bobby’s quick shift in position that keeps the three of them from falling to the ground. “Well, that’s never going to happen because it’s always going to be us.”

“Reggie’s right,” Luke says, and Bobby wiggles an arm at Luke, inviting him into the hug. Luke joins them and it’s probably the worst place to try for a group hug and if anyone sees them, they’ll probably look like idiots.

Still, Bobby doesn’t say anything, just delights in the warmth for a bit longer. Then the humidity hits once more and he unlatches his arms, from around the others, taking care not to fall off the platform. “Alright,” he says, voice overly fond, “let’s actually do what we came here for.”

Luke and Alex both look lost, but Reggie clearly catches Bobby’s thought as he lunges at the flying fox, somehow catching it after leaping. “Mine!” He shouts and, well, Bobby’s not about to let that happen. He leaps too, slams into Reggie, and suddenly they’re both laughing on the tanbark floor and the flying fox is shuddering above them.

The lake’s calling for him again. It whispers to him, nonsensical sentences and things that don’t make sense. He can feel it tugging at his hands, calling his name. The magic is the same as it had been the night previous, something dark and perhaps slightly scary. A figure made of shadows when you’re alone at night; something you don’t want to face alone.

It’s still warm, and the weather reports that it’ll stay that way until afternoon, so Bobby leaves his jacket behind this time, instead stealing one of Reggie’s flannels and tying it around his waist. If it does get cold, he can pull it on later. Next, he pulls on shoes, this time bothering to put on socks as well. He has a feeling that it won’t be a short trip outside today. The lake’s gotten louder. He has a feeling that that’s important.

He glances over at his bandmates, doing a quick headcount. It looks like Alex isn’t here this time. Bobby’s not sure whether he’s surprised by that fact or too sleepy to feel surprised or if he should’ve expected this. It seems to be a pattern.

This time, there’s no avoiding the lake. Bobby walks down the path, gravel crunching underfoot, heading towards it.

Above, the moon is full. It looms on the horizon, bigger than it normally is. Already, though, it’s getting close to setting. Another few hours and it’ll be day once more.

There’s a bench, by the lake, and Alex is sitting there. He almost appears to be glowing in the moonlight, though Bobby can’t tell if that’s simply the lighting or if he’s actually glowing. There’s more magic here than there had been the previous nights.

Bobby sits down on the bench. “Do you feel it?” He asks, because Alex must, that’s why he’s out here, right?

“Yeah,” Alex says. “It’s lonely.”

“Lonely?” Bobby echoes, frowning. “I don’t- I don’t think that’s right.”

Alex hums. “It wants a friend though I’m not sure what it is.”

Reaching out with his magic, Bobby tries to make sense of what Alex is clearly sensing. But the thing in the lake feels the same as always. The magic is haunting. It’s dark. It’s wrong. It presses against Bobby’s skin like thorns from a rose push, like with a little more pressure it could break the skin and send droplets of blood dripping down his arm.

“Does it?” Bobby asks.

“It was made wrong,” Alex says. “It’s… Plants don’t really have feelings or anything. They don’t really have a vibe at all to be honest. They just… exist. Sometimes though they don’t feel quite right, when they’re sick or dying. Or sometimes they’re just not quite happy.”

“And this feels like that?”

“Kind of,” Alex says frowning. “It’s hard to explain.”

Bobby gets that. Magic is a hard sensation to describe to someone who doesn’t feel it the same way. Closing his eyes, he concentrates, searching for whatever Alex is clearly feeling. And… there, past the haunting, eerie feeling of it. There’s something that reminds him of a blocked pipe, a pothole in the road, a cough caught in your throat. Something that’s just slightly off but…

It feels like necromancy, like someone pulled on something but didn’t do it quite right. It’s easy to fix, Bobby just reaches and twists.

“You got it!” Alex’s voice is full of delight and Bobby blinks himself back to alertness. The magic is the same, except there’s something that makes it feel a bit more lonely than anything else.

“Oh, I feel it,” Bobby says, voice caught somewhere between despair and love. Because the creature out there is lonely, its voice singing a song that no one else understands, but it sings regardless.

Above them, the moon shines and Bobby can feel the magic of the world strengthening. He looks away from the lake to Alex, “Do you want to try something?”

Alex smiles, a thing made of moonlight and sunshine and warm times. They don’t do this often—combine their magic, that is. Not because they don’t want to, but because there’s never a need to. Bobby’s magic is based in necromancy and Alex’s magic is pretty far from that, a thing to do with nature and plants. It’s not life, though any rules of magic can be worked around if you think about it for long enough and believe in yourself—as Reggie has proven many times.

The lake is not a place of bones, of death magic, but there are animals out here who have lived and died and lived happy lives. Bobby calls to them with a whisper on the wind, asks the earth to gather their bones, and they are not creating something old and reanimating it. They are making something new.

The spirits whispers their agreement and consent to Bobby before fading away, nothing more than a silver mist in the air that wavers then disappears. The bones twist together, shaped by magic that Bobby doesn’t conscious direct. His magic knows what he wants. Then, folded in amongst it all, there’s a spark of Alex’s magic. It’s soft and hard, steel will and gentility, kindness and stern belief. It smooths edges, increases durability, strengthens something intangible yet is somehow the most important part.

Bobby and Alex breathe out in unison and life bubbles to the surface. In front of them, the creature made of bones and plants lifts its head, wooden antlers gleaming in the light of the moon. Flowers travel down its spine, vines wrap around its legs, and the bones glow white. It is a thing many would call monstrous, but it’s only gentle. It has no eyes, doesn’t really have a mouth, but the magic of it feels kind. This is a creature made to be a friend, made to be a protector. This is a guardian.

Something in the lake shifts, ripples created without wind. Bobby turns to look.

From the lake, a horse-like figure emerges. It’s not a horse, but it almost appears to have the skeleton of a horse, but it has the skin of a seal drawn tight over the bones. Bobby can’t make out any eyes on it, but it shakes its head and looks towards them. Plants from the lake seem to cover its body, heavy like fur but only from the neck and spine. It’s a strange creature, but it’s a creature of the lake and the water and night.

The newly made guardian creature turns its head and approaches the lake. It is silent, even as it works over rocks. When it reaches the lake, it doesn’t find itself submerged but walks over the top.

The other creature, the horse-like one, meets it halfway. The world seems to shiver around them, turning hazy, and then Bobby blinks and both creatures are gone like they’d never even existed in the first place.

Alex hums a few bars of something. Something that Bobby knows. Something that Bobby’s been hearing for a few days. Something that they’ve all been hearing. It’s the song that Bobby sung a few lines of that first night, the song Luke is writing, the one that Reggie’s been humming.

Knocking shoulders with Alex, Bobby sings a line he recalls spinning into existence that first night with Reggie by his side. Then, there’s Luke’s rough draft, lyrics half-finished and rough patches, a verse and a chorus. And then, like they’d planned it, Alex softly sings another verse.

It’s a song unlike their normal songs, but at the same time it’s exactly like all their songs too. Bobby thinks it’s about futures and possibilities, but it’s also about the forest towering over you and the wind whispering to you, about the lake and its rippling waves, the sky and its star-studded beauty. More than that, though, it’s about escaping with friends at your side. It’s about freedom and love and-

Alex falls quiet, his verse completed, but there are voices rising as the moon begins to sink behind the horizon. Bobby doesn’t even remember the time passing, yet he can’t bring himself to think about it. Instead, he twists and catches sight of his bandmates coming down the path together.

“Hey,” Reggie says, voice soft, smiling. “Thought you’d be out here.”

Bobby shuffles over on the bench, forcing Alex to squish against the armrest. Luke drops next to him, forcing Reggie to sit on the other end. The bench isn’t made for four, that much is obvious, but they’ve never bothered to care about that before and they’re not about to start doing so now.

“Have a fun time?” Luke asks, wrapping his arms around Reggie and Bobby, one hand resting on the back of Alex’s neck. “Seems like it’s been an interesting night for you two.”

“Yeah,” Bobby says, “That’s one word for it. How’s that song coming along?”

“Ready to be looked over I think,” Luke answers. “Seems like everyone’s added little bits and pieces to it while I wasn’t watching. Must be the magic of this place.”

That causes them to laugh. Magic might have something to do with it, but they all know it doesn’t truly have to do with magic. At its base, it comes from them. Perhaps its construction was aided by magic, but its foundation was built by them.

“Hey look,” Reggie says, “the sun’s rising.” And it is, painting the sky with colour. The sun itself is a circle of orange and the lake is fractured by every golden ray, colours rippling across the water.

Yet not one of them watches it. Instead, they are caught by each other. How the sun makes them glow. How the light gentles their faces. How they smile at each other.

The day grows warmer, the sun goes higher, and they are trapped in a single moment, aware of the way they are pressed up against each other, the way they are happy, the way they are loving without reserve.

They’re ready to leave a few hours later. It feels strange, getting ready to leave. It feels like an eternity has passed, yet it’s only been a few days.

“We good to go?” Bobby asks. Luke’s already in the car, somehow not half-asleep this time.

“Ready!” Reggie reports, reappearing. He passes a bag of snacks to Bobby who stores it in the back of the car, stashed between him and Luke. Then, Reggie gets in the front seat, adjusting the seat and mirrors. “Alex, you all good?”

Alex hums, then switches off his phone, putting it in his pocket. “Yeah, all good. Was just telling Willie that we’re heading back.”

Immediately, everyone turns to him and Bobby can’t help but smile even as he watches Alex try to hide his goofy grin. “He told me to wish all of you safe travels.”

“Aww,” Reggie says. “That’s kind of him. Tell him thanks!”

“And that he should come to one of our gigs,” Luke says, poking his head between the seats because he doesn’t have his seat belt on.

“He’s already come to our gigs before,” Alex says. “You know this, you saw him there last time.”

Luke shakes his head even as Reggie turns on the car engine. “No but like one where you properly sing. He hasn’t come to one of those yet!”

“Seatbelt Luke,” Reggie says pointedly as they leave the carpark behind. Luke does as told, even as Alex keeps his gaze steadily locked ahead on the road.

“I sing!”

Bobby hums. “You have like a line or two. We haven’t done a proper individual verse or chorus kind of thing in ages. Or even an acoustic session actually. We should change things up.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Luke says after a pause, considering. “We should make a note of that for the future. Add some new songs in, bring back some all favourites.”

“Perhaps go back to our roots and surprise people by busking?” Reggie offers. “Could be interesting. And if we get someone to record it, we might be able to have it like as a YouTube video or something.”

“And that,” Alex says, “is something that we can figure out when we all get home. Bobby, go through Luke’s stash of CDs and find something worth listening to.”

“Hey!” Luke says, pouting, and Bobby laughs. Luke turns, smiles at him, and easily hands over the bag. “They’re all worth listening to.

“I remember this conversation from the drive here, and I don’t think we need to continue it,” Reggie says as they turn onto a main road, entering the town.

Bobby lets the conversation wash over him, flicking through CDs. Most of them are albums or top hits for one season or another. Then, towards the end of the stack, he finds a CD with ‘road trip playlist’ scrawled on it. Or, at least, Bobby assumes it says that. It’s impossible to read and it’s Luke’s handwriting, so.

“Here,” he says, breaking the conversation up, handing the CD to Alex who puts it on. The car’s silent for a few seconds, and then music starts coming through the radio.

After a few bars, Bobby recognises it and grins. Alex does too, clearly, based on how he turns the volume dial up once again. Then the lyrics begin and nothing can be heard but them singing along to the song.

Bobby smiles and sings along. They might be heading back to the city, back to work and the bustle of everyday life, returning to their ordinary worlds. But…

But Bobby thinks he can face that again. He can face the world around him and Reggie can stop feeling suffocated by work and Alex can feel like the world’s a bit quieter and Luke can remember that blood family doesn’t mean your actual family.

And even if nothing has changed, even if it’s still imperfect, they’ll have each other, and that will always be enough.