Chapter Text
Chase drank from his water bottle before setting it back down on his desk. He scrolled through files and chewed the inside of his cheek as he searched for what to give to his editor next. His phone chimed, breaking his concentration. Chase picked up his phone and brightened his screen to see the text message Violet sent.
“I’m here,” her text read.
Chase nodded to himself before standing, pocketing his phone, and heading downstairs. He opened the front door and gave Violet a friendly smile. “Hey. You said you wanted to bring me something?”
“Mhm.” Violet stepped aside to show Chase the dolly loaded with two heavy boxes.
Chase’s eyes widened. “...Violet, what’s all this? This can’t be the late birthday gift you were talking about.”
“It isn’t.” Violet opened her purse at her hip and offered Chase a small gift box wrapped pristinely in cerulean paper and tied with sparkling silver ribbons. “But this is. Happy belated birthday, Chase.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your party.”
“It’s cool. I hope nothing bad happened.”
“No, no.” Violet waved a hand to dismiss the concern. “Everything’s fine. It was a schedule conflict.”
“Okay, so long as everything’s fine.” Chase hesitantly accepted the gift box, admiring how it sparkled and shined as the sunlight glinted off it. “Thanks! So, uh…. What’s all that?”
Violet breathed a slow sigh and rested her eyes on the boxes. “Some streaming things.”
Chase lifted an eyebrow. “What’d you bring streaming things here for?” He chuckled. “Do I get first dibs?”
“You…get all of it.” Violet shrugged, unable to meet Chase’s eyes.
Chase stared at the boxes and at the handwriting in permanent marker on their sides. His eyebrows drew together. He walked over to the dolly and opened one of the boxes to see black and purple themed tech inside along with a headphone set he’d swear he’d seen before. “...I don’t get it.” He looked up to Violet. “This looks like….”
Violet mentally ripped off the band-aid. “It’s DiamondDiva’s.”
Chase’s eyes widened considerably as worry flooded his veins. “What happened? Did something happen?”
“No.” Violet closed up the box. “I don’t know what he told you. I haven’t heard from him since the charity event. He left early.” She rested a hand on the box flaps. “...I really shouldn’t be….” She sighed again. “His…life plans are moving in a different direction. One that doesn’t have an internet presence, so he packed up his things and asked me to give them to you since he won’t be using them anymore.”
Concern still flashed within Chase’s eyes. “Okay, look, I get that it’s his business, and you’re not cool with saying specifics, but the way you guys dance around whatever this is makes it really seem like he’s been diagnosed with something lethal, and I can’t—,” his gulped back the familiar spikes of worry and dread, “—I can’t help but think that he’s on his death bed.” His voice cracked.
Violet’s eyes widened. “That’s so morbid—”
“Well, it’s the only thing I can think of! You two are so freaking cryptic, it’s the only thing I can think of that you’re trying to cover up!”
“Chase.” Violet rested her hands on his shoulders. “Look at me.” When their eyes met, Violet continued in a gentle tone, “He’s fine. He hasn’t been diagnosed with any danger or disease. He isn’t in the hospital or anything like that. He’s…. He’s with his family right now. They have expectations, and he’s rising to meet them. That means no more streaming or Youtube or conventions. That’s…why he looked so different at the charity event.”
“Buddy’s just with his family?” Chase gradually calmed down, but the relief that replaced his worry felt empty. “...With the…Delmans?”
Violet worked to keep a straight face. She rested her hands on the box’s flaps and shook her head. “No, their last name is Delaune.”
“Buddy’s French?”
Violet laughed softly, amused. “They wear it like a badge of authenticity.” She waved away the thought. “Don’t tell anyone. He wouldn’t want anyone to know.” She nodded to the boxes. “Do you need help getting these inside?”
Chase frowned and looked over the boxes. “I dunno, Violet. I mean. This belongs to him. I’m not really…. I dunno if I’m cool with using his stuff. What if he turns up asking for his stuff back or tries to throw checks at me again?”
Violet’s eyes fell closed as she allowed a wave of frustration to pass. She met Chase’s eyes. “I’ve known him since we were kids. He wouldn’t do that,” she admitted quietly. “I know he’s been acting…foolishly. So foolishly. And I know you probably have a good reason for feeling how you do. But he can’t use this stuff anyway, and he asked me to deliver it to you.”
Chase still watched her with a skeptical gaze.
“...I don’t know how those nights turned out. At Avecon. At the charity event. I just know that they must’ve gone poorly.” Violet’s gaze drifted down to the boxes. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Chase asked, genuinely befuddled, “why are you sorry?”
Violet waved a hand. “It was my idea to invite him into our friend group. He had just gotten out of a bad situation, and he was finding himself by making Youtube videos, and I just…. I wanted him to have friends. A support network. So I introduced him to everyone, but I never thought it would blow up like this. I’m sorry, Chase.”
Chase leaned down within Violet’s view of the boxes. “It’s okay.”
Violet lifted her head.
Chase stood up straight and shrugged. “It could’ve turned out great. We could’ve…been great, but…. I…confessed too early. Before I even knew him. And he….” Chase sighed. “I don’t even know if he meant what he said. I can’t tell anymore.”
Violet gave Chase a small smile. “You’re better at reading people than you think, Chase, and…for what it’s worth, he was the happiest and most comfortable when he was around you. I think maybe you saw something in him that he didn’t realize was there.”
Chase’s eyes widened ever so slightly as realization nestled within them.
After a pause, Violet rested a hand on the dolly’s handle. “I know you said you’re not comfortable with using these things right now, but I did say I’d deliver them—.”
“Yeah,” Chase murmured. “Yeah, no, sure. Um. I got it.” He rested the gift box on top of one heavy box before squatting down, getting a secure hold on the box, and then carrying it inside. He quickly returned outside, arms free, and carried the other box inside in the same way. Once he was done, he gave Violet a smile. “Anything else?”
Violet shook her head. “No, that was it.”
“Alright.” Chase adjusted the dolly so it’d stand up unencumbered. “Wanna come inside for some tea or something? I think Grandpa’s got some muffins cooling.”
“Thank you, Chase, but I need to be going. I have a hanging skirt that needs to be evened.”
Although the words flew right over his head, Chase nodded. “Yeah, alright. Thanks for coming by. Have a safe drive.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you later.” Violet gave Chase a wave before heading to her car, dragging the dolly behind her as she went.
Nox lay curled on his bed with a pillow tucked beneath his head. His blinds were closed, and his lamps were off. The only source of light within his room was the soft glow emanating from his phone. His thumb tapped and swiped through his inboxes and social feeds, noticing that the frequency of comments were starting to dwindle. Nox’s thumb froze when he caught sight of photos of confetti, rolls of colorful paper, and Chase’s bright smile.
In one picture, a decadent, colorful cake with plenty of cake toppers and diagonal striped candles sat on a table in front of Chase, complete with stylized words written in frosting. Buddy’s thumb flicked across his screen, sending the picture flying and replaced with a video where Chase held a glass only partly filled with an orange-gold liquid settled between ice. Chase held the glass up to the camera before sipping it. His face immediately puckered into distaste, and he looked away before coughing out a laugh.
“Nah, it’s good!” Chase coughed, winced, and smiled. “Bleh. Totally good!” The video cut off the rest of his chuckle.
Buddy watched it play again.
He’d missed Chase’s birthday—his twenty-first birthday.
The next set of photos showed Chase, Silver, Simon, Bronze, Goldie, Deacon, an older man, and a woman celebrating—more drinks, gifts, board games, and outdoor fun. With each new photo, Buddy’s heart sank deeper into his stomach. His throat ached and a tear trailed down his cheek. Buddy breathed a shaky breath before flicking down to scroll through the comments. His eyes scanned the words frantically for any mention of himself anywhere—any sign of proof that the past six months actually happened.
Buddy dropped his phone and rolled to lay on his back. He rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes before lying slack and staring up at the dark ceiling.
He didn’t have a right to search for any ghost of himself in Chase’s comments. He chose to leave the streamer life. He had no right to long for it.
A knuckle knocked at Nox’s door.
Nox sat up instantly as panic surged through his veins. “What?” He called at the door.
“‘What’?” The voice of Mrs. Delaune spoke through the door before she opened it. “Are you taking a tone with me?”
Nox breathed in a calming breath and then released it. “No.” He rubbed at his eyes and blacked out his phone. “I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t at all dressed,” she huffed.
“I have time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. I need time to do your makeup, and we’re all leaving together.”
“I thought makeup was the devil?” Nox muttered.
“Don’t sass me,” she warned. “Wash your face, get your clothes on, and then come to the master bathroom.”
Nox lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to ground me and forbid me from going to the silent auction?”
Mrs. Delaune’s voice dropped into an edge. “Nox Thomas Delaune, you will be dressed and standing in the master bedroom in the next ten minutes or you’ll spend every day of next week meeting with every young lady in this stack—,” she smacked a hand down on the stack of papers on Nox’s desk, “—for very long and very elaborate dates. Have I made myself clear?”
Nox frowned and replied in a smaller voice. “Yes, Mother.”
Satisfied but still perturbed, Mrs. Delaune turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Nox rubbed at his eyes before climbing off his bed and trudging into his bathroom. The cold floor sent a shiver through him. He briefly debated on using the decorative towels for a real purpose before deciding against it and grabbing a bath towel from the linen closet. He draped the towel over the sink counter and debated on which face wash to use before mentally dragging himself through washing his face, drying his face, and then applying a thin layer of moisturizer.
Despite his best efforts, he managed to catch sight of his reflection and looked away, leaving the wet towel splayed across the cold counter. On his way to his closet, he ran a brush through his hair before tossing the hairbrush onto his bed. Hanging from his closet was the suit he was meant to wear for the evening. Annoyance prickled at him as he imagined how shapeless he'd look in it. If he could only adjust the waistline and maybe have a fabric with more sheen for the shirt….
Nox shook his head.
Without giving himself any more time to second-guess the evening, Nox dressed himself, secured any necessary fabric, gave himself a once-over in his mirror, and then headed to the master bathroom, pocketing his phone on the way.
Once he'd crossed the threshold into the master bathroom, he squinted at the searing lights. It was an older design—not that Nox would ever admit he learned to appreciate Art Deco decor from his parents—but it was utterly spotless, a seemingly barely lived-in space.
"There you are," Mrs. Delaune murmured. She kept her face stone still as she applied her lip pencil. Once done, she glanced at the clock before picking up her chosen lipstick and uncapping it. "Go on. Put on a towel. You remember how." She barely spared him a glance as she finished up her face.
Nox walked over to the linen closet and pulled down one of the older towels before returning to Mrs. Delaune's side. He draped the towel over his chest and shoulders.
Mrs. Delaune capped her lipstick and set it down on the counter before turning to inspect Nox. She reached her polished fingers up to brush Nox's bangs aside. "A little shaggy," she muttered, making a note to schedule a haircut. Her nails trailed down the side of his face as she examined every visible pore. "Those darn holes…. At least those two on your top lip seem to be closed up."
Nox's heart sank.
"Wait, your eyes." Mrs. Delaune brushed the cold pad of her thumb against the outer corner of Nox's eye. "They're red and puffy." Her frown deepened. "It was your phone, wasn't it?" She rested one hand on her hip and held the other out expectantly. "Give it here."
Nox's eyes widened. "What? Why?"
"Every time you've looked at your phone this past week, you look sad. Your phone is making you sad, so I'm taking it." Mrs. Delaune waved her outstretched hand, insistent.
Nox's eyebrows drew together as annoyance pooled within him. "I'm not handing over my phone. It isn't making me sad."
"Are you accusing me of lying?"
"No." Nox took a moment to keep his tone even. "I need my phone. It isn't making me sad. Please, can we just get the makeup out of the way?"
Mrs. Delaune lifted an eyebrow and chose to dismiss the matter. She plucked a wash cloth from a neatly folded pile and ran it under cold water. "Have you deleted your internet accounts yet?"
Nox scoffed in disbelief. "No? Why would I do that?"
"You have no need for them anymore, and they're working you up." She shut off the faucet and squeezed excess water from the wash cloth. "Eyes closed."
Nox had all of a millisecond to close his eyes before Mrs. Delaune placed the folded, cold wash cloth against his face. Nox caught the damp cloth and held it over his closed eyes. "I'm not deleting them. Even if I never upload anything again, people may still want to watch my videos, and if I leave them up, they can still earn me money. There's no logical reason why I should delete them."
Mrs. Delaune huffed. "Even if they make you sad?"
"I won't look at them anymore."
Mrs. Delaune rolled her eyes and then gathered together the makeup she planned to use while the cold water did its work. Once done, she tilted her head to inspect Nox's ears. "When did you get your ears pierced?"
"…The lobes were shortly after I left at eighteen. The helixes were some months later."
"Then they'll take longer to close," she sighed.
Nox's jaw locked.
After a pause, Mrs. Delaune spoke, "Alright. Your eyes shouldn't be as puffy now."
Without a word, Nox handed over the wash cloth.
Mrs. Delaune accepted it and set it on the counter. She plucked a fresh wash cloth from the folded stack and dabbed at Nox's closed eyes to dry them. "That'll have to do. That's all we have time for. Keep still."
Nox's eyes opened to see Mrs. Delaune selecting which makeup product she intended to use. She chose among a collection of beige, silver, and glass tubes, bottles, and compacts. His only experiences with such expensive brands were seeing them on her counter. He'd never seen them while shopping for his own products before.
"Those dark blue circles…." Mrs. Delaune sighed again and opened her concealer. "If you had managed your sleep schedule properly instead of being up at all hours with your childish hobbies, you wouldn't have such dark circles under your eyes. "Look up."
Nox looked up to the ceiling and remained still.
Mrs. Delaune tapped a makeup sponge beneath Nox's eyes right up to the edge of his bottom lids. "You'll have to be in bed by nine and turn your lights out by ten."
Nox spoke, his mouth barely moving, "No one goes to bed at ten."
"I and your grandfather do."
"Father doesn't," he argued.
"He's a busy man," she countered easily as she moved on to cover up other spots on his face. "I'll bet your poor diet and poor quality makeup did this. Lack of a face washing routine, too, no doubt. These pimples…." Mrs. Delaune huffed. "You'll need to use that acne skin care in your bathroom every day. Your skin will be flawless again in no time." She patted the sponge against a developing pimple. "If you manage to put the work in, that is." Mrs. Delaune set the makeup sponge aside and picked up a brush to move onto her next step.
Nox tuned out her criticisms, finding it unbearable to actually listen. Instead, he stared off at nothing and closed his eyes when she asked it of him.
The rest of the no-makeup look progressed relatively silently.
"This is sheer, so don't get your hopes up."
Nox's eyes drifted down to view Mrs. Delaune in focus again. The lip gloss she held was the most neutral-toned pink Nox had ever seen. The lip gloss passed over his lips, leaving a very light coat to prevent any chapping.
"Don't you dare bite your lips." Mrs. Delaune slid the wand back into the container and twisted it closed.
"I won't."
"Don't bite them." She set the lip gloss into an organizer with other products. "I know you'll say you won't, and you'll end up doing it."
Nox held back a hiss. "I won't bite my lips."
The containers and tubes clacked against each other as Mrs. Delaune cleaned up her work station. "Look in the mirror."
Bracing himself, Nox slowly looked to the mirror to observe his reflection. In the mirror staring back at him was a face he hadn't seen since he had turned eighteen. She was a little less heavy-handed than she was then when she kept batting a makeup sponge against his cheeks, jaw, and chin to hide the uneven redness and pimples—all his fault for lack of effort or some other reason. The flawless layer of concealer and foundation hid any color he had as well as any unsightly mound or mark. The lip gloss was only a shade or two deeper than his natural lip color, but he still couldn't help but feel erased.
"There, see?" Mrs. Delaune's voice interrupted Nox's mind from fully jettisoning back to his childhood. "Your face is beautiful when it's natural like this. All those peacock colors you wore in those pictures were so gaudy and ostentatious." She sighed and shook her head. "This is how you'll wear your face in public until you have your sleep schedule, acne, and skin care under control. You'll have a lot of eyes on you tonight, so stay pristine," she urged.
"Yes, Mother," he murmured softly.
He worked to keep his expression still as they entered the gallery's main room. Many couples and families already occupied the space, filling the room with a droning chatter. Paintings were mounted precisely on the wall with descriptions displayed beside them. Every guest was dressed in their finest, and every member of the wait staff was silent, quick, and spotless.
Nox felt Mrs. Delaune's hand press against his back. Instinctively, his jaw locked, and he walked ahead, joining Mr. and Mrs. Delaune in their gait. One by one, family friends and connections approached and shared pleasantries as they welcomed Nox back from his travels.
"'Travels'?" He had asked Mrs. Delaune through a plastic smile between interactions.
"Yes," she spoke through a practiced smile as well, "we couldn't exactly tell the truth about where you've been."
"Why not say I've been living in a monastery for the past four years since I'm sure that's where you wished I was?"
Mrs. Delaune hooked a hand around Nox's upper arm and squeezed it. "I certainly hope you're not planning on making a scene," she whispered. "We're going to end up having a very long and difficult night if you let yourself slip."
Nox stared off at a random spot in the distance. "I won't slip," he assured her. After a pause, the grip on his arm loosened. He mentally floated through the event to the point where when he discovered he was being introduced and shown off to some of the young women in the stack of marriage matches, he couldn't find it in him to be angry.
After slotting in a pre-loaded parting phrase, Nox's idle gaze drifted over to a painting filled to the brim with bright sunflowers. The nameless, faceless entities who had excitedly said hello walked off, leaving Mr. Delaune to seek out another connection to woo and show off to. Nox felt the press of a hand against his back, but he remained where he was. The hand swiftly patted against his back, and Nox met Mrs. Delaune's insistent gaze. A shred of realization took root in Nox's mind. "I'm going to go look at that painting. The one of the sunflowers."
Mrs. Delaune lifted an eyebrow and looked past Nox to see the sunflower painting. "You like that one?"
"I want to see it," he clarified. "I'll be over there."
Mrs. Delaune frowned ever so slightly and waved dismissively. "Fine. If you want the painting, be sure to take down its details." With that, she walked off with Mr. Delaune to continue greeting, forging connections, and fawning over the son she'd fabricated.
Nox breathed a calming breath, and his posture relaxed for the first time in a week. He turned towards the sunflower painting and headed in its direction, feeling his mood lift exponentially the closer he got. His eyebrows drew together as his heart physically ached at the sight of so much bright color in one concentrated space.
He perked up. Now that his parents weren't breathing down his neck, he had a moment to do some research. Nox slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped away, reading about the cause the charity silent auction was meant to support. His eyebrows furrowed when he discovered that the proceeds were to be given to an affluent private school to fuel extracurriculars. He scoffed and muttered, "What—? Were the horses for the equestrian team running out of luxury oats?"
"DiamondDiva?"
Nox froze solid.
A familiar snooty face leaned into view.
Nox's attention drifted from his phone to the young woman.
Cashley McMansion wore her hair styled back smoothly against her head, and the remainder fell in ringlets down her back. Her mint green gown had a subtle shimmer and an asymmetrical strap partly covered with a velvety soft cream boa. She scanned Nox curiously. Her lips pulled into a pleasant smile. "Oh, excuse me. I thought you looked familiar because you looked a little like a colleague of mine." She waved a hand to dismiss the faux pas. "But you just look familiar because you're Nox Delaune," she chimed, and fondness dusted her cheeks.
Nox stared.
"No, DiamondDiva wouldn't fit in here at all. Well…." She glanced around. "Perhaps on the wall, but not among us. Anyway." Cashley gave Nox a proud smile. "You may recognize me from the pictures I've sent. My name is Cashley McMansion." She lifted her hand, presenting the back of it.
Nox stared at her hand.
Nox then met Cashley's eyes and slipped his phone in his pocket. "Of course," he spoke softly, completely free of bite. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Miss McMansion." He ghosted a hand beneath Cashley's and leaned down to rest a frozen kiss against her hand.
Cashley's blush darkened, and she leaned into the attention. "Oh, 'Cashley' is fine, Mr. Delaune," she cooed, all atwitter with his seemingly affectionate attention.
Nox released Cashley's hand and fixed his posture. "If that's the case, then please call me 'Nox'." He wasn't so sure he could stomach such a connection with his father at this time. "You said you sent me pictures of yourself?"
Cashley nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. I sent in my application and included plenty of photos." She pulled her phone out of her purse and brightened the screen. "I do photography as a pastime, and I also do plenty of modeling. I post it all on Instagram." She turned her phone to show Nox her influencer account. "Do you have one?"
Nox watched as Cashley scrolled through her posts for him to see. "I…am afraid that there's no Nox Delaune Instagram account out there," he chuckled, hoping his nervousness didn't show.
Cashley gasped. "Then we should take a photo right now." She summoned her camera, lifted her phone in selfie mode, and hooked an arm around Nox's before snapping a picture of them together. She released Nox's arm and examined the photo. "Nox, you're surprisingly good at taking candid photos," she trilled.
"Um, Cashley. Please. I'd rather you not post that."
Cashley paused mid-post and met Nox's nervous gaze. "It's okay." She flashed him a grin. "If you don't want your face in it, I can put an emoji over it." Her long, sparkling nails tapped against the phone screen as she did her edits. She then turned the phone to show Nox the new picture. His body and hair were clearly visible with a moon emoji completely covering his facial features. "How's this?"
Nox nodded softly. "Better. Please don't use my name in the post or tags either. I'm. Uh. I'm a very private person."
"Of course." Cashley went right back to writing her post, deleting a couple lines and tags as she went.
Nox's attention trailed off until he caught sight of Mrs. Delaune watching him while Mr. Delaune upheld a friendly conversation with a colleague. Nox's lips fixed back into a formal smile. "It was lovely to meet you, Cashley. I'm afraid I must be going."
"What?" Cashley sent Nox a pitiful frown. "But we just started talking."
Nox met Cashley's eyes. "The night isn't over. Please. Excuse me."
At that, Cashley's heart lifted. "Oooh," she trilled, "I see. I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon, Nox."
Nox nodded with a tight smile before heading back to Mrs. Delaune. He stood beside her and whispered a greeting, "Mother."
"Mm," she hummed in thought. "You were speaking with Miss McMansion?"
A twist of concern squirmed through Nox. "…Yes?" Every bone in his body pleaded to the fates that Mrs. Delaune wouldn't take one professional conversation as a marriage proposal.
"That was very gentlemanly of you."
Nox's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "…What?"
Mrs. Delaune sighed softly. "It was very gentlemanly of you to be kind to such a cheap and tacky girl. The way she brandished her phone and yanked your arm to take a picture." She shook her head. "Absolutely dreadful manners. I truly wonder why someone of her status was allowed into this event."
A kernel of anger settled within Nox, but he managed to keep it out of his tone. "You're talking about her as if she's lesser than us. She didn't interrupt anyone else's evening, she didn't say anything rude, and her volume was perfectly manageable."
"Nox, honey, you know that's just scratching the surface of proper manners." Mrs. Delaune rested a hand against his back. "It isn't her fault she was born into a lower class family, but she really shouldn't be in a place where she just doesn't belong."
Nox's jaw locked, and he looked back to the sunflowers and back towards Cashley. She stood apart from the other guests, scrolling through her phone and taking another picture of herself with the sunflower painting as her background, and he found himself…envious.
The moment Mr. Delaune bid his conversation partner goodbye, Mrs. Delaune gave his arm a small tug. "Dear," she spoke to him in a soft voice, "Nox seems rather attached to that sunflower painting."
Mr. Delaune looked to the painting. "It's rudimentary."
"Yes," Mrs. Delaune hummed, "but rudimentary or not, he seems to be drawn to it." When Mr. Delaune didn't respond, Mrs. Delaune ran a hand along his forearm. "We can let him keep it in the third floor sitting room, can't we? Guests will surely never see it, and he can admire it all he likes there."
Mr. Delaune glanced between the painting and Nox. "Very well. Skip the bidding. Just buy it."
"'Just buy it'?" Nox echoed, confused. "It's an original. It's expensive."
"Nox," Mrs. Delaune whispered, "your father wants to be sure you'll have something you want. Skipping the bidding for it saves time. It's not as if we need to get it at a lower price. We came here with a sizable budget in mind for donations, so as far as you should be concerned, 'expensive' is a four-letter word."
Nox kept his voice low, careful not to out himself to people around him as someone who worried about the value of a dollar. "It's not just a few hundred."
Mrs. Delaune sighed and glanced at the painting. "Please, it can't be much more than five thousand. You're working yourself up over nothing. We'll buy it and have it installed outside your room, so stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and be pleasant."
"Five thousand…," Nox whispered. "You'll tell me that I'm overreacting about five thousand dollars for a painting, but you think giving a check to my friend for medical bills is heinous?"
Mr. Delaune hissed in a low voice, "If you say another word about it, we're leaving." He lifted an eyebrow, daring Nox to continue his argument. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you what to expect."
Mrs. Delaune gently rubbed a hand along Mr. Delaune's forearm. "It's okay. Nox was just forgetting where he was. He remembers now. Don't you, honey?"
A chill ran down Nox's spine, and beneath his foundation, he paled. After a moment, Nox gulped and fixed his posture. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'll drop the subject." He regurgitated words that had been branded into him, "I'm very grateful to have this painting. Thank you." True to his word, Nox didn't address the topic of money for the rest of the evening.
"Did you make connections?" Grandfather Delaune wheezed over dinner.
Mr. Delaune stiffened before continuing his meal. "Yes, and I re-forged the ones that were drifting, too. Having Nox return was a big help in attracting potential partners into conversation."
"You didn't manage to ruin any ties?" Grandfather Delaune prodded.
Mrs. Delaune tapped her spoon against the bottom of her bowl. "Grandfather, you simply must have more of your soup. I had the chef prepare your favorite, and it would be such a shame if it went cold before you had the chance to enjoy it."
Grandfather Delaune looked to Mrs. Delaune's pleasant smile before picking up his spoon. "Yes, of course," he muttered, his animosity from earlier dampened. "Quite right."
Mrs. Delaune's eyes met Mr. Delaune's before her attention drifted back to her meal.
Taking the hint, Mr. Delaune moved the conversation on. "I bought a few paintings for the house. Although, that last one belongs in the vacation home more than it would here."
"Yes, Dear. I'll have it moved," Mrs. Delaune assured without skipping a beat.
Mr. Delaune's instructions continued. "Be sure to have that sunflower painting installed upstairs when the paintings are delivered. We can wait on the others to see where they'd fit best, but I want that one out of the way."
While Mrs. Delaune gave another word of agreement, Nox stared down at his soup, trying his best to ignore the words disrupting the silence of the dining room. His gut twisted at any mention of that damn painting he had been so drawn to, and he found himself trying to imagine if this was how Cashley spent a dinner with her parents. He shook his head to dispel the thought. If Cashley was comfortable enough to be herself in public, then there was no way she experienced dinners with her family the same way he did. Jealousy coiled itself in his intestines.
"Nox."
Nox's head snapped up to meet with Mrs. Delaune's cold, frustrated stare. "Your grandfather is trying to speak with you. Pay attention."
Nox met Grandfather Delaune's disgruntled gaze.
"Well?" Grandfather Delaune huffed.
Nox set down his spoon. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear. Could you say that again?"
Grandfather Delaune scoffed and directed his ire at Mr. Delaune. "You see? You let him run off for years, and this is what happens. He comes home devoid of manners and makes a shameful name for himself. If you weren't so soft and incompetent, your son would be where he needs to be and not playing catch-up! I should've been tougher on you like my father was with me. Maybe then you would've raised a son you could be proud of—"
Nox stood, his chair screeching against the wood floor. His hands balled into fists, and his gaze locked onto Mr. Delaune. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, "May I please be excused? I'm tired, and I'm no longer hungry."
Mr. Delaune glanced between Nox's untouched meal and the stifled flames of anger in his eyes. After a moment's thought, he answered, "You may."
Nox nodded and quickly dismissed himself. "Thank you, Sir." He nodded to Grandfather Delaune and Mrs. Delaune. "Grandfather, Mother, good night." He kept his posture firm as he walked out of the dining room, the wheezing criticisms of Grandfather Delaune fading from earshot. He didn't stop walking until he managed to reach his room.
Nox shucked off his suit, changed into comfortable clothes, washed and moisturized his face (pointedly ignoring the acne care during his night time routine), and flopped onto his bed.
"I should've been tougher on you like my father was with me. Maybe then you would've raised a son you could be proud of."
Nox twitched as the sting of those words seeped into his bones. "Even as an unfeeling tyrant, Father's a failure according to Grandfather." He paused, and his eyes widened. They may not have realized it, but they were showing him his future again. A grown man criticized and ridiculed until the only thing he could do was subject the weakest person in the room to his anger.
Nox sat up, freshly enraged over the idea of anyone harming the hypothetical figment in his mind, freshly enraged for the child he once was, and freshly so envious of Cashley's confidence it made him sick.