Chapter Text
11 April. 1997. 6:45 A.M.—The air felt thicker today, like it was coated in a thin layer of dust. A grogginess had entered the atmosphere sometime between bedtime and waketime. Odd. He didn’t feel ill.
Mornings in Fairy World were always beautiful. The typical pink of the sky would meld with a pale yellow, almost orange, and some part of it looked virtually abstract. The stars, which sat just below the clouds, twinkled in a faint radiance. Soft enough to where daylight would not be a bother, but intense enough to provide a phantom glow. Today was no different.
Though Cosmo hated to awaken this early, it was his favourite time of the day. It was quiet, the only sound around being nothing more than white noise and birdsong. Gave him enough time to think—something he felt he never did enough. But it was nice.
He’d been up for a good hour by now. Breakfast, prepared by his wife, had been finished, and the dishes had been washed. The bed, only halfway made, he wagered, could be put off. So, all that was left was to get dressed.
Yet he struggled to find the motivation. His eyes felt heavy, and his knees weak. He figured it was just the effects of waking, but the longer he waited, the worse it became. The former week had been a blur.
Sluggish—that’s how he felt. Not sick. Sluggish.
Cosmo had told his wife once already, but only recently. He hadn’t informed her of the days prior, how this atypical pain started weeks ago. He felt no need to. It was manageable before. Now, now it was an obstacle. Easy tasks felt hard, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough.
After breakfast, his wife had to excuse herself to the washroom. They risked running late for work if they lingered too long getting ready, and, figuring it was a good enough reason, Cosmo pushed himself off the bed by the wrists.
He had only been sitting for about ten minutes—his wife having told him to rest a little longer. But the television had become an instant distraction. The news droned on, completely sardonic and glazed with boredom. Though, one thing caught his attention above all.
“The rain is expected to carry on into next week,” the reporter on TV said. “Temperature is expected to decrease.”
Strange. Rain was not commonplace in Fairy World. It just about never happened. Though, it wasn’t that he was disappointed, far from it. Cosmo loved the rain, loved the weather. It was just. . . strange.
Maybe that’s what it was. The reason for the headache, the drowsiness. He had always felt a little dizzy when it rained. His body was likely just preparing for the weather.
He nodded. That answer would have to do for now.
“Wanda?” Cosmo called out to his wife.
He fiddled with the stack of clothing to his left—his outfit for the day—until he grasped the shirt. A button-down, but thankfully only the top three buttons were utilized while it was on the hanger. Easier for him to get it off that way.
“Yes, dear?” She answered, voice smooth and sweet, yet muffled, only slightly thickened from the early hour.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” There was a pause.
“Shouldn’t be too long.” Another pause. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining them or not. “How come?”
Cosmo huffed as he pulled his night-shirt off and over his head, reaching back for his button-down and tie. “Just wondering.” Discarding his pajama top, his attention trailed back to the television. It had cut to an advertisement, something about cereal. It looked sad. “I’m not dressed. . .—” Where was it? “—yet.” Ugh. He didn’t have time for this, where was it? “. . .Have you seen my tie?”
The irritability in his mind betrayed the calm of his voice. His fingers flexed in aggravation, quickly tossing the sheets back and forth in search.
“I put it in the washer last night.” Wanda sounded to be brushing her hair now. She had a particular surge in her voice, like she had tugged a knot. “But I can go get it for you when I’m done in here.”
“Oh.” Cosmo allowed his hands to fall back into uneasy comfort, instead turning to his dress-pants. “Thanks, Lampchop.”
“You still feeling tired?”
As he pushed his foot through the leg of his pants, he caught the slight worry in her tone. And he knew he couldn’t lie to make her feel better. Not this time. “A little.”
“Awhh.” The sigh was one often associated with dismay. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“It’s not your fault.” Cosmo could, however, provide her a half-truth. “I think it’s going away; I think.”
There it was. Her hope, so clear in her words. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Cosmo pulled his pants up to his waist, tucking his shirt tail in, though forgetting to fasten its buttons first. “Just a little.”
“Well, that’s good at least.”
“Mhmm. . .” But his thoughts were too easily lost. Here one moment and gone the next. Stolen by something else. He felt a tickle near his chest and looked down, the fact he never buttoned it apparent. And he whined. “Mnnn. . .”
His wife was quick to catch it. “Is something the matter, honey?” Nothing ever went over her head.
“No. . .” Cosmo rattled his arms in discomfort, taking a seat back on the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of his shirt and threading the buttons through the holes.
He began with the top and traveled down to the bottom—something he often never did. Usually, it would be the other way around. But something about today was just off-kilter.
Reaching its endings, it became evident the shirt would need to be untucked before it could be buttoned fully. Cosmo sighed in aggravation, clutching the edges, tugging, but when nothing happened, he whined again.
The fabric seemed to toy with him, playing a sort-of tug-of-war game with him. The more he pulled, the more it fought to stay in place, trapped beneath the firm hold of his belt. With the grit of his teeth and a harsher tug, Cosmo fell to his back on the mattress.
The shirt, now disheveled, much like his hair, had come untucked as intended, but there was yet another flaw. Two buttons had been threaded through the wrong holes. Cosmo was flung back into dreaded frustration, thin tears lining his waterlines.
But rather than trying again, he accepted his defeat, leaning further into the mattress and gripping the sheets beneath him. The Television had returned from its ad break, uninvited.
“This is a live update from the events unfolding near the Big Wand now.” The voice was oddly wavering. A certain fear harboured deep within their vocals. “After experiencing a sudden power outage briefly this morning, the Big Wand seems to be up and running once more.”
That was good, at least. Some happy news on this tiresome day.
“Though the causality is currently unknown,” continued the news reporter. “Authorities suspect it may have been a targeted attack. Surveillance footage is being looked into near four undisclosed locations across the city.”
It should have meant something, but the words were meaningless to him. As his lids fell closed, the information jumbled together into a blur, the meaning lost in stupor.
“At the present time, the Big Wand has been searched for evidence regarding any possible threat. However, very little was discovered. There has been no sign of anti-fae foul-play.”
There was a pressure at his hip and an offbeat, feathery feeling on his chest. Cosmo stirred, but kept his eyes shut. The feeling never strayed, though it moved. Down his chest and up his abdomen.
“Mm,” he whined, unwilling to confront it.
“You’re alright.” The voice was drowned, nearly unintelligible, and it felt distant. “Wake up, sweetie. We’ve gotta get going.” But it rang clear.
Cosmo forced his eyes open, ignoring the stinging in his temples. The bright stare of his wife greeted him.
“Sleep well?” Wanda teased.
Funny. He couldn’t recall falling asleep. He didn’t even mean to.
It was then he noticed her shoulders rocking back and forth. He trailed his gaze down the length of her neck to her hands. Skillfully, she played with the placket of his shirt, fixing what he dared not bother with.
With regret, he croaked a: “. . .have I made us late again?”
Wanda shook her head. “No.” And offered him a rewarding smile. “No, you’re fine.”
“How long was I out for. . ?” The grogginess was difficult to shake. It ran his throat dry; speaking had just started to feel painful.
“Not very long.” There was an obvious tenseness to her shoulders as she shrugged, no doubt put there by her lingering worry. But she continued to fumble with his shirt buttons, putting them into place and flattening the fabric. “I think you only dozed for a couple of minutes.”
“Oh.”
Some days were easier on his intelligence than others. Every once in a while, there’d be a morning he woke and didn’t need to pause to consider his words. Recently, though, his mind seemed slower and slower. Almost forgetful.
He breathed. “Good.”
A hand fell to his knee, thin and frail but the grip was solid. “Cosmo, honey?”
“Hm?”
“If you’re not feeling too bad later tonight, we need to go into town and submit last month’s wish logs.”
“Already?”
Her head drooped to the side. “It’s the eleventh.”
Cosmo didn’t say anything.
“But,” Wanda continued. “We don’t have to go tonight if you’re not feeling up to it. They’re not due for another week.”
He swallowed. The longer they put it off, the more likely it would be turned in late. Even so, the thought of going into town made him feel exhausted. “Can it wait?”
“Yes.” His wife was always so patient with him. “But there’s already so much to log for this month. The quicker it’s out of our hair, the better.”
“I guess.”
“I just hope this little phase of his won’t last too long.” Wanda tapped her fingers against his kneecap, pursing her lips into a thin line. “He’s beginning to worry me.”
His wife had a particular nasty habit of stressing too much. Sometimes, Cosmo worried if she’d get too lost in thought that she’d struggle to find her way back to reality. And the anxiety that came with it, that filled her blood with jitters, it made Cosmo worry himself.
Recently, their godchild had been verging on ‘extreme’ wishing. Excessive wishes of various degrees were being asked for. The whole ordeal made logging them difficult. And, it made Wanda’s stress practically visible.
But Cosmo knew the concern came from a place of love. His Wanda cared for everyone, so much so that she barely had time to think of herself.
“They all go through that phase, though, right?” But Cosmo had a special talent for making her feel better.
“Not all of them—” The shaking of her head shifted to a slow nod. “—I guess you’re right.”
“Me? Right??”
She squeezed his knee, flashing a grin. “Yes, you.”
“They should give me a PhD then! ‘Cause I’m so right all the time.”
He scored it, her laugh evidence enough of her elated mood. “Oh, yes. Of course,” she humoured. “You’re so smart and right all the time.”
There was a short-lived silence before: “Lambchop?”
“Yes, honey?”
He always strove to keep her happy. He liked to believe he was good at it. “I think my headache is going away.” Even if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying currently.
“You’ve already told me that, Puddin’.”
“Oh.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, honey. You know I am.”
And he returned her smile.
Wanda drew back, standing straight and extending a hand. He took it, assisting her in pulling him into sitting position. “We’re not late for work,” she confirmed. “We’ve got another thirty minutes.”
“That’s good. Did you—” His focus was stolen by the television. The dull pictures and lines of text muted the world around him, though he didn’t care much for what it was saying.
“Hm?”
Cosmo blinked, the words coming back to him. “Did you get my tie?”
“Yes. Stand up for me?”
He was several inches taller than her. The top of her head reached to the point of his chin. Yet, Wanda was older by a year (and one fourth). Thus, he took to joking she gave up height in favour of smarts.
Wanda brushed her hands across his abdomen, loosening his belt buckle before tucking his shirttail in. When she was done, and the fabric was patted down as to not leave any inelegant lumps, she re-tightened the belt.
“So, what’s been on the news today?” Wanda turned momentarily, taking his tie from the mattress. “Or did you sleep through all of it?”
“Uh. . .” It was a good question. Sadly, he didn’t quite know the answer. “Something about—”
“We report back with breaking news regarding the nearing magicka drought that’s faced both Fairy World and Anti-Fairy World in recent days.”
“Guess that answers my question,” said Wanda, brushing a hand along Cosmo’s shoulder. “I hope that doesn’t last too long either.”
“Yeah.”
“Authorities suspect the drought may kick into full swing within the next month,” the news continued. “Prevention is being looked into.”
A thought gave way to Cosmo. “You don’t think Timmy has something to do with that, do you?” Though, it was outlandish.
“No.” Wanda scrunched her nose in disbelief. “He wishes for a lot, but never enough for that.”
“What do you think it might be then?”
“Honestly,” She flicked the collar of his shirt up, expertly draping the tie around his neck. “I don’t really know.” He felt her thumb graze his skin. “We’ll be fine, though.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too.” Wanda pushed herself up on her heels and folded the two ends of the tie across one another. “I’m sure the council will think of something.”
Cosmo stayed silent, watching. She had always been good at this. He figured the skill came with being raised in a richer neighbourhood (something he was unfamiliar with). Wanda was certainly much better at it than he, so perhaps it was true.
He watched as her hands danced in confident motions, looping the strands of fabric until she had created a knot. It was a sort-of uneven knot—likely to be fixed later—and Cosmo couldn’t help but feel envy from it.
Whenever he tried this, the knot stayed that way. It, much like a gamble, would grow into a bigger mess, and always frustrated him. He couldn’t quite understand it, either. He’d been tying them longer than she had. Why couldn’t he get it right like her?
No matter, he didn’t mind. There was a certain comfort that came with her helping, anyway.
As Wanda finished it off—holding the blade of his tie and tugging up to tighten the knot—she brushed a hand to the side of his face. “You sure your head feels okay?”
His attention still kept to his thoughts, and only just barely did he understand the question. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, then.” She trailed her hand up to his scalp, ruffling his locks of green. “That’s good.”
He liked when she did that, when she played with his hair. It made him feel almost like a cat—not that he wanted to be one or anything. He simply enjoyed the feeling of being pet. It was calming, soothing. Like a remedy to a migraine.
A remedy that he was certain could solve his pain.
So, he grinned at her. Anything to tell her she was doing all the right in the world.
“Alright,” Wanda began, the sparkle in her eye continuing to light. “I need to finish my makeup.” Beginning to pull away, there was a lingering concern to her touch. The frailness of the pressure made it seem like Cosmo was fine porcelain. Easy to crack but hard to put back together. Still, Wanda smiled all the same, appreciative of ceramic ambition. “Go brush your hair.”
Her departure was slow and a bit indecisive. Like she wanted to stay, to know there was safety, she had looked back once before leaving the room.
Cosmo noticed this when he turned towards the bathroom, but she had already gone by the time it registered in his mind. Still, he still stopped in his tracks, shifting back into his environment with wavering focus. There was a noise.
“Unfortunately—” It was the television. He had forgotten it was there. “—It seems a piece of Fairy World’s past may soon be on the horizon.”
Cosmo stared forward, blankly. That could mean anything.
It continued: “An event like this has not been seen since the creation of our world.”
Huh. Well, that was certainly news.
“Honey—” This was Wanda, though she sounded distant. Likely at the foot of the stairs (the ones leading to their bedroom). “—Are you ready to go?”
He shook his head, clearing it from the rowdy television report. “Uhhh. . .” Quickly, he fled into the bathroom, raking a brush through his hair to tidy the loose strands. “Yeah!” And he made way to his wife, the report still fresh in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Oh, well. . .