Chapter Text
Buddy climbed out of the taxi at the base of the u-shaped driveway. He leaned down to thank the taxi driver before stepping away and closing the car door. He lifted the popped trunk, hauled out his heavy suitcase, and slammed the trunk closed. The wheels of his suitcase clacked against the pavement, and he watched as the taxi cab drove off. It took almost an eternity to pull his gaze from the curb to rest on the imposing home at the driveway’s apex.
It was the same.
Buddy lifted the suitcase handle until it clicked, locking into place.
It was as if he never left.
Buddy breathed a slow breath before trudging up the driveway to the house’s freshly-painted front door. He pressed a finger against the doorbell, inwardly shivering at the sound. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Stop it.” He sighed. “It’s nothing.” Buddy took another calming breath. “It’s nothing.”
All too suddenly, the door swung open.
Buddy’s eyes widened instinctively.
Standing there in the doorway was a woman who almost reached his height. Her perfect, shiny, dark curls settled at her shoulders. Her dress was sleek and without even the tiniest fleck of lint or stray crease. Her pearl necklace glowed in the ambient light as she drew in a gasp. “Nox,” she whispered, her voice wavering with overwhelming joy. She stepped across the threshold, wrapped her arms around his torso, and rested one hand against the back of his head, cradling him close.
Had she always been so small?
“...Mother—”
“Ohh, you’ve grown so willowy, Nox,” she sighed before giving him a squeeze and then stepping away. “Come inside.” Her smile was tired but managed to reach her eyes. “Come along,” she ushered as she passed the threshold again, “come along, now. Watch those wheels on the floor.”
He stepped into the house, and the scent of cleaner and rose infiltrated his senses. He gulped.
“Close the door.”
His gaze drifted towards her, and he set his suitcase down before pulling the door closed and locking it without further prompting.
“I must admit,” she began a conversation for herself, “I was beginning to worry that you were just going to keep yourself in exile for forever. Thank goodness it’s over now. Your room is unchanged. Although, your childhood things have been packed away. No space for them now that you’ll be attending school.”
Nox’s dissociated gaze sharpened. “What?” He finally noticed that she stood at the sideboard, sorting through papers.
“What do you mean ‘what’? That’s not a complete sentence. You know better.”
Nox crossed the distance between them and looked down at the stacks of paper: acceptance letters, marriage matches, and more. His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean when you said that I’ll be attending school?”
Her chin lifted, and her crystal blue eyes met his. “You can’t possibly think that you can take your place in the Delaune family without some form of degree? It’s shameful we’re starting so late, but at least you’re getting yourself on the right path now.”
Nox worked to keep his frustration at bay. “Twenty-two isn’t a shamefully late time to go to college, and I’m not going to college.”
“It’s shamefully late for a Delaune.” She shook her head and piled the papers into one stack. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come August, you’ll be attending one of these schools. You’ll have a week to decide which one you want to go to.”
“Wait. Wait. Those were acceptance letters. How could I have acceptance letters already if I haven’t chosen somewhere to apply to? I only called Father about coming home yesterday . The most efficient school in the universe can’t manage a turn-around that quickly.”
She placed the pile against Nox’s chest, forcing him to catch the stack so it wouldn’t fall. “I had applications sent in last year. We were getting ready to pull you home anyway when you called. Your moment of charity really worked out for all of us.”
“That would’ve broken our deal,” Nox hissed. “If I hadn’t written that check, you would’ve summoned me?”
She nodded. “Yes. That’s something we need to discuss, by the way. Go take your acceptance letters and matches to your room. You can mull over them at your desk on your own time. Come back downstairs and meet us in the formal dining room when you’re done.”
Nox balanced the pile in one arm, grabbed the handle on his suitcase, and headed upstairs.
“And, Nox, dear!”
He halted and begrudgingly looked back at her.
“We’re so glad you’re home.” Her lips pulled into a smile.
Without a word, Nox continued upstairs. The scent of rose was beginning to become cloying—no doubt it’d be the precursor to a headache. He slowed to a stop once he reached the top, and his attention drifted to his right. A heavy door remained cracked open at the end of the hall—the door to the room in which he had his last conversation with his parents: Mr. Delaune’s study.
He was still in the haze of dread from being around so many people and around so much activity for several hours. The silence of Mr. Delaune’s study may have ceased the chatter and live music, but it only replaced one stress with another. He stood in front of Mr. Delaune’s desk, staring down at the life his parents and grandfather had planned for him.
From ages eighteen to twenty-two, he was meant to study a field under the STEM umbrella and graduate with honors. From ages twenty-two to twenty-five, he was to intern in the family company and also choose a wife from among a small pool of women his parents and grandfather would recommend when the time came. The wedding would be held in a Catholic church in June and would last from noon to ten o’clock at night. The honeymoon would—.
His eyes fell closed.
There were still pages of his future to read, but he didn’t dare spoil the surprise of what he would have for dinner at the age of thirty-four.
The sensation of having three intense gazes staring him down reminded him of metal being melted down to be forged. That’s what he was to them, wasn’t he? Something to be shaped and molded into their perfect treasure. “No,” he mumbled and shook his head, “No, I don’t want any of this.” He’d grown in this house under their rules, within their boundaries, and up to their expectations—at least, that’s what he strived to do until the day he’d be old enough to leave. The reality of finally seeing his eighteenth birthday and knowing that he would live under even more constricting standards yanked his dread into a crucible to be heated into anger.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Delaune turned to the next page of the future plans. “This is lovely. It’ll be a solid foundation to build your life on. Everyone wants a plan like this. It takes away all the thinking and decision-making that drags us all down.” She sent him a tight smile. “You should thank your father and grandfather for doing you this wonderful service so you don’t have to wander blindly into adulthood.”
Nox lifted his gaze to read the insistence in his mother’s eyes. This moment flashed through his mind, calling up on previous times in the past where he had been urged to thank his parents and grandfather for having the love to deprive him of television for a month for breaking a glass, for having the love to keep him in the walk-in closet when too many sounds and attention caused him to spiral, and for having the love to allow him to say goodbye to the stray cat he’d hidden before it was taken to the local humane society. Nox’s throat ached. “This is too much,” he whispered.
“There. Your father and grandfather went through so much trouble for you,” she lightly scolded as she turned another page.
Nox’s voice rose, “I’ve just turned eighteen today. This is too much.”
Mrs. Delaune’s hand stilled. “What?”
Nox’s anger boiled through his body until his brain steamed his well-crafted self-preservation skills into wisps. “I said that I don’t want any of this. This—,” he jabbed an index finger against the eight and a half by eleven inches of nightmare that sat perfectly on Mr. Delaune’s desk, “—is too much for anyone.”
Mr. Delaune lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward in his desk chair. “Talking back?” He stood and leaned over his desk. “Have you lost your mind?”
Grandfather Delaune scoffed. “If you hadn’t spoiled him, he wouldn’t be lashing out now. When my father told me his expectations, all I said was ‘Yes, Sir.’ Arguing back is—,” he leveled a glare at Nox, “— abhorrent behavior, and it’s all too clear your parents have been too soft with you.”
A spike of fury flashed through Nox. “Shut up!” He shouted at the elderly man leaning on his cane. He met Mr. Delaune’s eyes, all sense in him gone. “This is too much for anyone! How can you all stand there and make these demands of me?!”
A swift crack of skin swatting skin filled the study, followed by an angry red mark forming on Nox’s cheek.
Nox’s hand twitched as it reached towards the stinging sensation blooming in his cheek.
The cold fury in Mr. Delaune’s voice simmered, ready to boil over again. “You don’t take that tone or those words with us or your grandfather. Not ever.”
The heat in Nox’s cheek spread like wildfire within him. He blinked back any possibility of tears forming. “I’ve had it!” He hissed, “Fuck this. I don’t need this. Fuck this house.”
“This house and this family are the only things keeping a roof over your head, and you can lose them in an instant,” Mr. Delaune warned. “Keep using foul language and behaving terribly. You’ll see what happens.”
“I don’t need it!” Nox shouted, “I don’t need any of it! Violet doesn’t need anything from her family! She lives on her own and supports herself!”
Mrs. Delaune huffed, “The Bordeauxs always were too soft on bad behavior.”
Nox fumed, “I could do it too!”
“You’d make it as far as the end of the driveway,” Mr. Delaune scoffed.
Nox’s voice raised, “I can make my own money to support myself!” Volume was never a weapon he wielded before, and he was ready to bludgeon what he could. “I don’t need yours and all the strings that come attached to it!”
Mr. Delaune sighed and closed the planner. “You’re just going to keep behaving terribly, is that it?”
Rage and the shakiness of doubt flooded Nox’s veins. “I can! I can do it!”
“Fine.” Mr. Delaune yanked open a desk drawer. “If you’re so sure you’re capable of living on your own and supporting yourself, get out.” He picked up a checkbook and then closed the drawer. “If you find yourself in a tight spot financially, use this.” He held the checkbook towards Nox, only to receive a grimace in return. “But the moment you take even a single cent out of this account, you’re to come straight home, and you’re to admit to me that you were wrong and that you’re sorry for this inane tantrum.”
Nox’s glare passed between the checkbook and Mr. Delaune’s eyes.
“I’ll even be soft about it and allow you to take one suitcase of your things with you.” Mr. Delaune waved the checkbook, insistent that Nox take it.
Grandfather Delaune scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“It’s either this or house arrest until you come to your senses,” Mr. Delaune warned.
Finally, begrudgingly, Nox reached out and accepted the checkbook.
Mr. Delaune picked up the planner. “You’re to be packed and out of here within one hour.”
Nox gripped the checkbook, sent a final glare at his parents, and stormed out of Mr. Delaune’s study.
Nox shook off the memory, ignored his developing headache, and took a left, ignoring the other side of the hall and heading up the second staircase. A part of him hoped the wheels of his suitcase scratched the wood floor. He walked into the open sitting space on the third floor and turned left to face a door he’d rushed through so many times in his life. Nox headed over and rested his hand on the gold door handle before slowly gripping it.
The door handle’s color…was almost the same as….
Nox yanked down the handle and pushed the door open before heading inside and rolling his suitcase into his room. He lifted his head to take in the shades of blue and dark wood that permeated the furniture. It had gotten even more lifeless since he last saw it. Nox dropped the stack of paper on his desk and watched as it spilled off the side and onto his chair and floor. He clicked his tongue and continued on towards the bed. He lifted his suitcase onto the navy comforter and unzipped it before flicking the top of his suitcase open. Nox heaved a sigh and removed his toiletries and makeup. He then pulled the dark jacket lying on top to reveal the collection of treasured clothing items he’d accrued beneath it.
Nox gingerly pushed some folded garments aside before guiding out a particular shirt. He pinched the shoulders and held it apart to read the DiamondDiva logo down the center. His eyebrows drew together as his heart sank.
Stupid, Violet’s voice filled his thoughts, this was stupid.
It was inevitable.
The shirt dropped from Nox’s hold. He shook his head and grabbed his toiletries before heading into his bathroom. He paused; everything inside was spic and span and completely devoid of his preferences. Nox set his toiletries down on his counter as he took notice of a fresh batch of a skin care that made his cheeks burn when he was fifteen. He stepped back to peer into his shower at shampoo and conditioner scents he hadn’t used in years.
A rustle in his bedroom drew his attention away and guided him out of his bathroom to see Mrs. Delaune leaving the room.
Nox lifted an eyebrow before catching sight of his much emptier suitcase and the lack of makeup on his bed. “Mother?” He called after her.
“Dining room!” She called back.
Nox rolled his eyes and dug through his suitcase. Worry sank like a rock in his stomach when he could only find the blander and more conservative garments he’d packed. “Damn it,” he hissed. “Holding my clothes hostage. Great.” He kicked off his shoes and dug through his closet to find a pair of slippers. He headed over to his door and paused when he saw the stack of papers still pooling over his desk, chair, and floor. “Hm…. Let them wait, then, if they’re going to be petty.” He scooped up papers and took his time organizing them into different piles on his desk before heading downstairs.
Once Nox crossed the threshold into the formal dining room, he could swear that the temperature dropped a few degrees and that his organs seized. At the far end of the table sat Mr. Delaune and Grandfather Delaune. Mrs. Delaune stood with her hands on her hips and with her face pinched in frustration. The clothing from Nox’s suitcase spilled over the table without covering any of the photos and documents Mr. Delaune reviewed at his end of the table.
Mr. Delaune’s gaze lifted from the photos and files to see Nox. “Sit.”
Reluctantly, Nox pulled out the chair at the head of the table and took a seat, already feeling layers of mental armor latch into place.
Mr. Delaune’s attention fell back down to the papers before him. “What the hell is ‘DiamondDiva’?”
Nox’s back straightened. “...DiamondDiva is…me.”
Mr. Delaune met Nox’s eyes and lifted an eyebrow.
Nox’s hands gripped each other in his lap. “He’s a critic character I play online. He critiques books while putting on—”
“While putting on unnatural makeup?” Mrs. Delaune cut in. She snatched a printout of a screenshot from the table and lifted it to confront Nox with one of his themed looks.
Oh, it was the one he’d done for some space fairy book. The purple eyeshadow glittered, and he’d taken to free-drawing a few gold sparkles on his cheeks and placing small pearl adhesives around his eyes. He liked that one. Or. He had liked that one…until it was shoved in his face as shameful. “...Yes,” he confirmed.
Mrs. Delaune dropped the screenshot on the table and rifled through another couple sheets. She gasped. “Wh…what did you do to your beautiful face…?” She lifted another screenshot. “Piercings everywhere…. Mutilating yourself…. Dressing like a gender-confused pop star from the 1980’s….”
“You’ve been plastering your face everywhere while looking like this.” Mr. Delaune held up another screenshot—one of the selfies with Chase at Disneyworld Nox had posted to his Instagram. “This is inexcusable.” He placed the screenshot down in a pile. “We have an image to maintain. No one is going to build relationships with the Delaunes while you galavant off looking like some drunk David Bowie look-alike.” He shook his head as he turned pages, seeing more looks from Instagram photos, merch shoots, and Youtube videos. “I just can’t believe it.”
Nox stared down at his piercing-less face in the table surface’s reflection. “So you had a private investigator follow me?”
“For good reason, apparently,” Mr. Delaune huffed.
Grandfather Delaune wheezed out a cough and shook his head. “This is rot,” he spoke slowly, his voice dusty with age. “A weakness. You’ve made the Delaune name a laughing stock in the world of high finance.” He jabbed a scolding index finger at Mr. Delaune. “If you had kept a tighter leash on your brat and not been so soft, he would’ve never had the chance to become such an abhorrent embarrassment to the family—,” he rested the palms of his hands against the pommel of his cane, “—and perhaps more of the bonds I had forged in my youth would still be intact.”
Mrs. Delaune sighed as exhaustion set in her tone, “Thank you, Grandfather…, for these.”
“There’s more than that.” Grandfather Delaune opened another manila envelope to show a collection of photos taken candidly of DiamondDiva and Chase out in public together. “Just take a look at that youngster there.” He tapped a finger against Chase’s image none-too-gently. “Everything Nox has been doing over the past six months has been related to him somehow.” He tilted his head and squinted at a packet of notes. “A…Chase Hollow Like and Follow. Or Charles Everett Hollow, going by his government name.”
Nox’s head snapped up in a quiet panic.
“Not long ago,” Grandfather Delaune continued, “they shared a stage and made fools of themselves.” He leaned forward and pinched a photo or two to the surface of the piles. “The pushups were bad enough and then—? Utterly undignified.”
“It’s nothing.” Nox argued as worry threatened to seep into his voice, “that was just pretend.”
Grandfather Delaune slowly turned his head to meet Nox’s eyes. “‘Just pretend’ doesn’t exist in the real world. You’re not a child anymore,” he hissed. “I would have written it off as just foolish nonsense had it not been for that check you wrote.”
“It was for his mother,” Nox’s voice rose. “She’s been suffering from cancer, but she’s in remission. Chase has been helping with her medical bills without doing anything for himself. I had to help him.”
“Nevertheless, you used Delaune funds to bail your little bad influence friend out of his debts.” Grandfather Delaune sat up and peered down at the array of documents before them.
Nox’s jaw locked, and he abruptly stood. He dug a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the remnants of the check before dropping them on the table. “There. He didn’t take the money. Your precious funds are untouched.”
Mrs. Delaune scoffed before muttering, “If nothing else, at least that Hollow boy has some sense.”
Mr. Delaune dropped the document he examined onto the table and stood. “This ends now.”
Nox’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“This. Ends. Now.” Mr. Delaune jabbed an index finger against the table’s surface, punctuating the seriousness of his words. “You’re not to speak to him, look at him, or think about him. I won’t ignore your childish whims anymore.”
“I’m an adult!” Nox shouted back. “You can’t forbid me from having him in my life.”
Mr. Delaune shook his head. “Shouting again. I thought you would’ve grown out of it by now. You are a Delaune. You’ll be properly educated. You’ll be married to a proper match. You’ll take over my place when the time comes.” When Nox said nothing in return, Mr. Delaune reached forward and hooked a couple fingers into the neckline of one of Nox’s shirts. “It seems you’ll need a visual to understand.” He lifted the shirt, grimaced at the DiamondDiva logo on the chest, and then turned it toward Nox. “Your era of acting out and whoring yourself for attention online is over.” Mr. Delaune pinched the collar before swiftly ripping the shirt down its chest and back, splitting the logo down to the hem. He released the ruined shirt, allowing it to fall to the table, and he watched Nox with one eyebrow lifted. “Have I made myself clear?”
Silently, Nox stared as understanding hooked him and dragged him through the barbs of reality. He fell back in his chair and eyed the table’s polished surface, defeated. “...Yes, Sir,” he mumbled, finding the act of speaking unbearable.
“About damn time,” Mr. Delaune hissed.
Mrs. Delaune addressed the maid in the doorway, “Edna, see to it that this pile of clothes is destroyed and thrown out. If I see even a scrap of this fabric in the house anywhere, we’ll be replacing you.”
Edna nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” She then hurried over to the table.
Mr. Delaune gathered the documents together. “No, Edna. Fetch a garbage bag and destroy the clothes here at the table.”
Edna gave Mr. Delaune a respectful nod. “Yes, Sir.” She then left and returned within mere minutes with a fresh garbage bag and a pair of fabric scissors.
Mrs. Delaune walked alongside Grandfather Delaune at his pace as they each left the formal dining room.
Mr. Delaune filtered the photos and documents into their respective manila envelopes and then into an accordion folder. He carried the folder towards the room’s exit, but halted when Nox moved to stand. Mr. Delaune’s eyes narrowed. “Stay there until she’s done. Watch and listen. Maybe then you’ll finally understand what it means to toughen up and be a Delaune.” He waited until Nox eased back down into his chair, and then he left the formal dining room, leaving Nox to listen to the rip of fabric and to watch the clothes he so carefully designed be torn to shreds.