Chapter Text
When Cole first formulated the plan of writing a song for Clémentine, the thought of actually singing made their face hot, hands sweat, and body tremble with nerves. So naturally, like Cole always did, they bottled up those feelings and pushed them deep inside of them and formally decided that it would be an issue for Future Cole to deal with.
But what Past Cole didn't account for when deciding to give those responsibilities to Future Cole, was that these feelings for Clémentine could so rapidly change in a matter of only a few weeks. The bottled up confession was practically screaming to be let out, and Cole struggled to not let it win over the fear of rejection.
When Cole spotted the first person in their desperate state, they fully expected them to gasp wildly, ask for more details, and maybe even poke a little fun at them. What Cole didn't expect though, was to be swindled out of crickets. But that's what they should've expected coming from Kingsley.
“I am not getting you four crickets, Kingsley," they sighed, "Why do you want them so badly anyway?”
Kingsley huffed and crossed their arms. “You’re really going to haggle me, Cole?”
Cole responded with an unimpressed blink.
“Ugh! Fine. Two measly crickets will do, I guess.”
Two crickets, ay? That, Cole might actually be able to do.
”Deal.” Cole reached out their hand.
The other smiled with all their teeth mischievous glint in their eyes and shook it, “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Turned out catching crickets was actually a much harder job than they ever thought it would be. Their hands were muddied from dirt and grime. They were also pretty sure some dirt specks must've landed in their hair and smudged their face.
They were still trying to catch their breath as their hands shook with the jar holding the pair of insects.
Cole entered the house and navigated their way through the hallway of multiple bedrooms before they reach theirs. They quickly grabbed their guitarlele, tucked the jar under their arm and walked over to Kingsley’s room, which was placed diagonally across from Cole's.
When the door creaked open, Cole expected to see Kingsley taking a nap, like they said they would. Like a normal person would, to be exact. While the dirty blonde did indeed find them sleeping, they were tangled in a mess of blankets with one foot up and the other hanging off the mattress as both their arms crisscrossed over their face. Kingsley was also snoring. Extremely loudly.
Cole placed a hand on their shoulder and gently shook them awake. It managed to work because Kingsley startled awake after the fourth time.
“What? Huh? Where am I-?“ and then when their eyes met the mason jar of crickets, their eyes widened in delight. They snatched the jar and examined the creatures inside.
“Woah, you actually did it.” And then they spun themselves upside down and slid it under the bed. Kingsley rose back up and waved their hands around Cole’s face, “You saw nothing,” and wiggled their fingers for extra measure.
Cole would ask Perrine to supervise Kingsley’s behaviour later, but right now they had bigger priorities than the member’s weirdness.
"Alrighty, now let's get down to business,” They yawned and gestured towards the bed, "Step into my office."
Cole settled themselves on the edge of the bed, "I want to tell Clémentine how I feel,” they managed to start as they fiddled their fingers together, “I really do. But I feel like I choke up every time I try to say my feelings. So, I don't know, I thought it'd be better if I wrote it down and sang it instead."
“Mhmm alright. Well, as your wingman I say it's a pretty good start. Clémentine always did like your songs.” Cole felt a pink flush rising up to their cheeks.
“Well?” Kingsley raised an eyebrow.
“Well…what?”
“Let's hear it!”
Cole’s eyes widened, “Oh! You want to hear it...now?”
Kingsley shook their head with a, tsk tsk tsk, and their head of curls bobbed, “Cole, I'm a busy guy and my naps run on an extremely strict schedule. Buuut if you want to tell me all about your mushy feelings about dear Clèmmie, my romance advice doesn't come for free. That’ll cost you about three more crickets then.”
Cole wrinkled their nose as they got flashbacks to the taste of dirt from trying to catch only a single pair, “I think I'm good, thanks.”
They shrugged, “Suit yourself. Now let's hear that song, loverboy.”
Cole looked down at the instrument placed in their lap and picked it up with shaky hands. They fiddled with the tuning to get it just right before taking their fingers and playing the first note. The rest came as naturally as water flowing down a waterfall. The sheets of paper for the lyrics and the song were laid out in front of them, but they knew they didn't really need it.
For weeks on end they’ve been turning over the notes and words in their head, always playing throughout the day and reenacting different ways to how Clémentine would react. Their fingers were now well accustomed to over the frets, instinctively moving.
Cole was just about to open their mouth to sing, but then–something went wrong. A slip. A wrong note rang out against the tune, throwing everything off. Their hands suddenly felt stiff and awkward and the melody died.
Cole exhaled sharply, lowering the guitarlele back into their lap, “I messed up.”
“What?” Kingsley leaned forward, “That was so good, though. Seriously, give it another try.”
They slowly shook their head, “No, no,” they sighed, “I wanted to play it for someone who had never heard the song before besides Clementine. What I wanted was a completely blind reaction to it so I can actually tell if I need to go back to the drawing board or not,” they chuckled a little, “I’m not sure though.”
“Maybe this will help then!” Kingsley ducks down again and rummages for something under his bed. He puts up his mask and quickly slips it on.
“No more Kingsley, I am now The-Enkindle-who-is-actually-Clementine!”
“I think I’d be more nervous speaking with The Enkindle than Clementine.”
Kingsley shot them a look, “You’re impossible.”
Cole rubbed their arm and tugged on a strand of their hair, “Sorry.” They meekly apologized.
The younger one shrugged, “You know, as your friend and number one wingman, I’ll give you a discount. So now you have to find me one single shiny cricket and meet me back out in the forest at around two O’clock tomorrow.”
And before Cole could protest, Kingsley’s head had already hit the pillow.