Archive of Our Own

If you had told Chase a few months ago that by the end of summer he'd be playing a dumbed-down version of baseball with twelve siblings who used to be tiny people made of metal, he would have stared at you in silence before quietly sneaking away—because clearly, you are insane and also might try to offer him the drugs you’re on.

Yet, here he is, against all odds, mid-September, chasing down Rose, the former Lover Key, as he bolts toward first base, wild cheering and laughter all around him. 

"Go, Ro, go!" Prunella shouts from across the field, standing with the other batters; one of them being Silver, who jumps up and down beside her, clapping in excitement.

"You can do it, Ro!" Silver yells, hands cupped around her mouth.

Chase sprints with all his might, so close now—his hand outstretched, white and red ball grazing Ro's strawberry-blonde locks.

The yelling grows wilder. 

“Get him, Chase!” a fielder bellows. Coral, Chase thinks. 

Just a little bit closer…

A low, strained grunt escapes his throat as he stretches his arm out further.

“Yes, yes, Chase!” 

Come on…

The first base is getting closer now—a little red plastic cone nestled in the grass, one of four that Prunella "borrowed" from her school shed—and Chase forces his legs to move faster. Ro, however, also seems to notice the approaching base and picks up his speed too. 

Almost… there…

Ro charges toward the base, his foot slamming down on the red cone just as Chase dives forward, tagging him with the ball at the exact moment he reaches it. They both keep running a few more steps, the speed carrying them forward before finally skidding to a halt, eyes wide and chests heaving.

“He got him, he got him!” Violet exclaims from nearby, gesturing frantically. “He tagged him!”

Chase slumps forward, ball slipping from his grip and landing on the ground with a small thud. He braces his hands on his knees as his breath comes in heavy, laboured pants. Ro’s legs collapse beneath him, his fingers clutching at the grass as if to steady himself as he catches his breath.

“No, he did not!” Alloy objects loudly from the starting cone—also the fourth and final base.

“Yes, he did so!” Stripes yells back.

“Ro got there first!” 

In an instant, a shouting match ensues between the two teams—the batters angrily claiming Ro’s victory, the fielders insisting on Chase’s. Meanwhile, Chase and Ro themselves are too out of breath to even join in on the debate.

Chase lifts himself back up to his full height, chest still heaving as he tilts his head up, gazing tiredly down at Ro. “Did I get you? Please tell me I got you.”

Ro only gives him a weak shrug as distant squabbling continues to rage on. “Possibly. I—I cannot be sure.”

The shrill, grating sound of a whistle cuts sharply through the air, and Chase immediately winces at the sudden noise. 

“Alright, alright, everyone quit it!” Deacon shouts. 

He’s taking his role as referee way too seriously. And don’t even get Chase started on the outfit—tiny red gym shorts, a matching red headband, knee high socks, and of course, the red whistle dangling over his white collared shirt. He would make fun of him, but it’s almost too easy.

Besides, he’s leaving for college again soon, so Chase figures he might as well let him have his fun before he’s miserable for the rest of the year.

“Ro, I’m pretty sure you got there before Chase tagged you,” Deacon calls out loudly, hands on his hips. 

A chorus of cheers breaks out among the batters—Ro, Silver, Prunella, Alloy, Titan, and Buddy—while the fielders—Chase, Goldie, Violet, Coral, Copper, and Stripes—look far less thrilled by the outcome, though Ro’s exclamation of triumph is much softer than his teammates’.

Chase just throws his head back with a groan. “Oh, come on.”

I used up all of that precious energy for what?

Copper blurts out a strangled noise—a mix of confusion and annoyance. “What? That is such bull—” 

“This is an injustice to proper sportsmanship!” Goldie cries, appearing quite personally offended.

Coral is spluttering, looking around frantically as if in search of backup. “That’s not fair!”

“How is that not fair, exactly?” Titan bellows from where he stands at third base, having just run from second. 

“B–Because!”

The bickering continues, seemingly only getting worse. Bronze and Sage watch from the sidelines in amusement—purely there to observe the chaos and nothing more.

The whistle blows again, high-pitched and obnoxious. 

“I’m the ref!” Deacon states firmly, his voice booming over the vast expanse of the field. “What I say goes, got it?!”

Chase snorts quietly, bending down to scoop up the ball. “Pft. Running this game like the Navy,” he murmurs almost inaudibly to himself as his teammates grumble angrily in reluctant resignation.

“Okay,” Deacon says with finality. “Are we all good?” He raises his arms halfway, brows lifted, wordlessly daring anyone to say otherwise.

Chase doesn’t even care that much about the game anymore. He just can’t fathom how Deacon expects anyone to take him seriously with that stupid headband on.

“Power’s getting a little too much to your head, Dorkin,” he says as he sluggishly walks past him, leaving Ro at the first cone.

Deacon just shrugs in response before blowing the whistle again.

“Alright! Who’s up next?”

"I’ll go." Buddy steps forward with a confident smirk, tossing the bat into the air. It spins once—tight, fast, stupidly smooth—and Chase feels his stomach flip right along with it as Buddy catches the bat without even looking.

…God, he’s so h—

Deacon claps his hands together. “Okay, great, Buddy—or…Nox, whatever—you’re up!”

Chase quickly masks the blatant heart-eyes he’s currently lasering at his boyfriend, shaking his head and marching forward with an almost arrogant swagger.

“Sure you don’t wanna sit this one out, princess?” he teases before throwing the ball into the pitcher’s—Stripes’—waiting hands. “Wouldn’t want you to break a nail.”

Buddy snorts as he gets into position, bat raised and angled back over his shoulder, ready to swing—familiar, undeniable determination sparkling in his blue eyes. “Only thing I’ll be breaking is your ridiculously inflated ego.”

“Ooh, those are fighting words,” Stripes says, readying himself to pitch. He looks over his shoulder at Chase, a sly grin playing at the corner of his mouth. “You just gonna let him talk to you like that, Chase?” He winds up, preparing to throw.

“Pft, whatever.” Chase rolls his shoulders. “I’ll be the one laughing when I chase him down. Wait—Ha! Get it? Chase him down?”

Buddy laughs, the sound deep and mocking. “With those short little legs? I’m not so sure.”

A low tune of exaggerated Oooooh’s rings out from the batters behind Buddy waiting for their turn (apart from Silver, of course, who would never)—along with Bronze and Sage from their spot in the grass.

Chase quickly throws an icy glare at those two.

“I’m gonna make you eat your words,” Chase snarls, pointing a finger at Buddy as he backs up. “And the grass, while we’re at it.”

Buddy cocks an amused brow. “Is that a threat?” 

“It’s a promise.”

Stripes lets out a low whistle while Buddy rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Chase, no tackling,” Deacon reminds him, raising his eyebrows as he adds, “Please.”

Chase waves him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Why not?” Bronze asks, legs sprawled out lazily in front of him.

“Because. It’s against the ru—” Deacon gives him a double-take. “Wh—are you eating popcorn?”

“They’re peanut butter-flavored,” Bronze replies as beside him, Sage dips her hand in the relatively large bag of popcorn and retrieves a small handful. 

“And fat-free,” she adds. 

“Where did you even get that?”

Bronze ignores the question. “I think we should allow tackling.”

“Yes.” Chase points to Bronze. “Yes, I agree.”

“Okay, so, tackling is allowed,” Coral declares, nodding. 

“No, it isn’t!” Deacon says quickly. 

“Why not?”

He throws his arms up in exasperation. “Because they’re the rules of the game!” 

Coral rolls her eyes. “You would have been the worst Rebel Keyholder.”

“Wasn’t much better as the Helper one,” Bronze comments offhandedly, and Chase snorts.

Deacon splutters. “Dude!”

“Kidding.”

“Oh, yes, please, everyone, let’s keep talking forever,” Buddy cuts in, sarcasm dripping from his words, still stuck in his stance.

“Oh my stars, what is going on over there?” Titan shouts from the other end of the field, still lingering by third base. “May we please get a move on?”

The other fielders standing far out—Violet, Goldie, and Copper—yell back their grievances in agreement, while Ro pushes himself back to his feet, ready to run again.

“Okay! We’re starting back up!” Deacon announces, making his way back to the center of the field. “And no tackling,” he adds as Chase jogs past him, the boy grumbling incoherently in response. 

The fielders fall back into their agreed-upon positions, each within the four perfectly spaced-out cones marking the bases in a diamond shape. Goldie and Violet hold the far end near second base—where Ro will be headed. Coral, Chase, and Copper spread out across the middle: Coral stationed in the very center, Chase closer to the right near first base, and Copper guarding the left side near third, where an antsy Titan has been waiting to run from.

A thick, silent tension settles over the field.

Chase plants his feet firmly in the earth, eyes locked onto Buddy. His heart pounds in anticipation, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action. 

Buddy’s long, slender fingers tighten around the bat, his eyes narrowing in concentration as Stripes winds up the pitch. Then, with a swift throw—

Hck!

The crack of the bat echoes loudly throughout the field as Buddy swings with all his might, making contact with the ball in a clean, powerful hit. It shoots through the air like a rocket, and Buddy is off.

Just like it had for Titan and Ro, the silence shatters in an instant with a wild eruption of yelling from both teams.

“Let’s go, Nox!” Alloy cheers. 

No one manages to catch the ball—it soars too far, dropping into the grass just out of reach before Goldie or Violet can chase it down. By the time Goldie scoops it up, Buddy has already flown past first base, Ro is now charging toward third, and Titan has reached the starting cone again, finishing his lap to the sound of his siblings and Prunella cheering him on.

Chase runs rather pointlessly after Buddy as Goldie hurls the ball to Violet, who catches it easily and spins to fire at the second cone—but Buddy zooms past just as she turns. At this point, the fielders aren’t even paying Ro any attention as he finishes his lap.

Chase picks up his pace, adrenaline crackling like electricity through his veins as he realises Buddy might actually pull off a home run. And he cannot let that happen. 

“Violet, here!” he yells, angling his body toward her slightly, arms outstretched as he sprints harder.

Violet hesitates, glancing over at Stripes, still stationed by the starting cone. It would make more sense to throw it to him. If Buddy passes third base—and it’s looking like he will—Stripes could easily just tag the last cone and get him out.

She gives Chase a helpless, apologetic shrug before hurling the ball across the field to Stripes. 

Chase gasps dramatically. “Traitor!” he shouts over his shoulder.

What Violet doesn’t notice—along with everyone else, currently captivated and slightly confused by Chase’s relentless pursuit of Buddy—is that Stripes isn’t paying attention to anything at all. He’s too busy picking at his teeth. The ball lands with a soft thud and rolls a few feet in front of him, completely ignored.

“—why are you still chasing h—” Copper’s voice fades in and out of earshot as Chase bolts past him. 

“Chase, what the hell are you doing?” Deacon hollers from somewhere as Buddy fires past third base. “You don’t even have the ball!”

Chase ignores them all, his focus narrowing to one singular mission: stopping Buddy.

“Stripes, the ball, you moron!” Coral roars, seeming to have finally taken notice of his complete inaction. 

He snaps his head up as Buddy barrels straight for the final cone.

“Huh?” he blinks lamely.

“The ball, get the ball!” Prunella positively shrieks, her voice cracking. 

Stripes finally sees the white ball settled in the grass about two feet ahead of him, scrambling to grab it just as Buddy closes in on the final stretch. 

He’s so close, now—ridiculously close.

Chase doesn’t slow his pace for a second. He whips his head from Stripes to Buddy, then back to Stripes, then back to Buddy. 

Stripes isn’t gonna make it.

Buddy is mere seconds away from completing a home run. 

He is never going to hear the end of it.

No.

Buddy will not make it. 

A growl tears itself from Chase’s throat as he plummets himself forward, using every last ounce of energy to dive directly into Buddy’s back.

“What the—!” Buddy cries out.

Sage jolts upright, concern etched on her face.

“Oh my!” Silver yelps as they crash to the ground, just inches away from the starting cone, and Chase hears Prunella groan.

The whistle shrieks loudly, as ear-splitting as ever. 

“Got you!” Chase pants from where he’s sprawled on top of Buddy, arms locked tight around his torso. “Told you I’d make you eat the grass!”

“What an absurd thing to do,” Titan mumbles, staring at the scene in perplexment, one hand cupping his own cheek.

Coral sighs tiredly as she approaches. “Oh my god.” 

“Chase!” Buddy squirms underneath him. “G–Get off of me, you buffoon!”

He freezes when a shadow falls over them, and Chase glances up to see Stripes standing above, ball in hand. Without much enthusiasm, Stripes dips down and taps the ball against the cone, inches away from Buddy’s face.

“Well. Out you go, Nox,” he says flatly, and the batters immediately cry out in protest. 

Buddy blinks up at him from under Chase, then immediately starts thrashing again.

“Get off!” he demands, and Chase just snickers, rolling off him with a heaving chest. 

Buddy scrambles to his feet, brushing himself off with unnecessary aggression as he glares down at Chase—laying on his back in the grass, grinning up at him like the little idiot that he is. His face flushes pink, betraying him, and he huffs in frustration, yanking his eyes away.

Bronze slowly starts to clap from the sidelines. His family-sized bag of popcorn falls off his lap.

“Amazing,” he says. “Spectacular performance. Well done, Chase.”

“Thanks, man,” Chase pants, lifting his hand to give him a weak thumbs-up, and Buddy scoffs. 

“Chase,” Deacon says as he approaches, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What did I specifically say not to do?”

Chase laughs faintly. 

“Well?” Deacon persists, hands moving to his hips. “What?”

“I—” He pauses, catching his breath. “I forget the question.”

"Brother!" Goldie exclaims, running up with Violet and Copper in tow. "Are you well? That was quite the fall, indeed!"

“I’m fine,” Buddy grumbles. 

“Okay, that does not count, right?” Alloy steps forward, arms crossed. “He cheated.”

“Who cheated?” Chase drags himself up to sit, still winded.

“You did, genius.” Prunella squints at him. 

“I cheated?” He points to his chest, eyebrows raised innocently. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Yeah—whole thing seemed rather fair to me,” Stripes says, shrugging.

“It seemed rather violent to me,” Buddy hisses.

Deacon sighs. “Chase. You’re disqualified.” 

The batters cheer in approval, Buddy grinning smugly. 

Chase squawks. “What? ”

“Literally why are you surprised?” Deacon frowns. “You broke the biggest rule. One of the only rules, mind you.”

“I’m beginning to sense some favouritism toward the batters from the ref…” Copper says, and a few of the other fielders mumble in agreement.

“I’m beginning to sense that too,” Violet muses.

Deacon spins around to face them, blinking in disbelief. “Huh?”

Copper shrugs. “You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I favour a team with Buddy on it? And Prunella?”

“Hey!” Prunella scowls.

“Come on, Deacon. You can’t knock us down a player,” Coral objects. “That’s unfair.”

“Yeah, come on, Deacon. You can’t get rid of the star player,” Chase says, still grinning as his head lolls to the side. 

“Okay, I didn’t say that,” Coral murmurs. 

Deacon shakes his head. “Should’ve thought about that before you tackled somebody. Now your team suffers the consequences.”

Chase considers for a second, then shrugs. “Worth it.”

“‘Tackled’? I think you mean viciously attacked,” Buddy says, voice full of wounded drama, and Chase knows he’s laying it on thick on purpose. Why he’s still acting, though, is beyond him—he’s already been disqualified. What else does he want Deacon to do, exile him?

“Alright, knock it off, Buddy,” Deacon says, rolling his eyes, and Buddy huffs. “You may as well have gotten pounced on by a puppy.”

Chase’s smile drops instantly. “Excuse me—”

“Get off the field, Chase,” Deacon interjects, shooing him away with a dismissive hand. “Go on! You’re disqualified. Go sit with Bronze and Sage or something.”

Coral throws her head back with a frustrated groan.

Deacon blows his whistle again. “Okay, everyone, back in position!” 

Buddy smirks down at Chase as the other fielders run off.

“Nice job, idiot.”

“Whatever,” Chase mutters, looking off to the side. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.” He extends a hand out. Chase blinks silently at it for a second in slight surprise before taking it, and Buddy helps haul him up to his feet in one hard yank. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, sweeping an assessing gaze over him.

“Am I alright? Are you serious? I should be asking you that—I tackled you to the ground sprinting full speed.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Buddy scoffs. “Like Freckles said, it was like getting pounced on by a—”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever, asshole,” Chase grumbles, lightly shoving past him, heading toward Bronze and Sage’s spot. 

Buddy cackles as he spins around to follow him, their arms brushing together as Buddy falls into step beside him.

“Nox, where are you going?” Silver asks with a frown right as Prunella steps forward to take her turn batting. 

Buddy glances back. “To watch.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m bored.”

“But we need you to win!” Ro whines. 

Chase rolls his eyes at that, settling himself down next to Bronze. 

He’s not that great…

Buddy sits on Chase’s other side, his side pressed against his. It's something he's noticed since practically moving in with him—Buddy's constant need to be in physical contact, always finding some way or another to touch him. 

Not that Chase minds.

“You’re not playing anymore?” Coral raises a brow when she turns around and sees her brother off to the side with the observers. And the disqualified.

Buddy shrugs. “I’m evening out the team numbers. You’re welcome.”

“Yes, that’s why. I’m sure.”

“Not sure what you’re implying there, Cor.”

“She’s implying that you’re not playing because without me, it’s boring. And she’s correct,” Chase says smugly.

Buddy looks away. “No comment.”

Hck!

The crack of the bat suddenly cuts through the air once again. 

Prunella zips off, sprinting toward first base as the game kicks back into full gear.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Cold water spills from the kitchen tap, stinging Chase’s palms with its icy chill. He pumps a squirt of Grandpa’s Japanese Cherry Blossom hand soap into his palms and scrubs, washing away any lingering traces of grassy dirt from his afternoon outside.

Suddenly, an arm snakes playfully around his neck, and he tenses on instinct. It applies just enough pressure to tighten his breath as the not-so-mysterious intruder pulls him back against their chest.

He knows who it is right away. He would know his touch anywhere. 

“Buddy,” Chase laughs breathlessly, wet hands reaching up to grab at the arm that currently has him in a light chokehold.

Buddy doesn’t seem to mind the little droplets clinging to his forearm from Chase’s hands. “Yes?” he murmurs into his hair, pulling him in tighter.

“What’re you doing?”

"Revenge," he says dryly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, referring to Chase’s totally justified and incredibly mild attempt at murder during the earlier game. 

“What, by choking me?”

He pauses. “Yes.”

Chase scoffs with a grin, spinning around in his hold. He looks up into his eyes—those moonstone eyes that aren’t really made of moonstone anymore, but still hold the same astonishing beauty as they always did.

They seem to soften almost instantly when Chase meets his gaze, holding a gentle tenderness that still makes Chase inwardly gush with the knowledge that look is reserved for him.

A light pink blush sweeps across Buddy’s milky cheeks, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Suddenly, Chase is overwhelmed with emotion. It hits him all at once, like a speeding truck, and he tightens his grip around Buddy’s waist, trying to channel this strange surge of energy somewhere.

“What?” Buddy says softly, more of an exhale than a laugh. 

Chase can’t find his words. 

This feeling isn’t completely unfamiliar to him—he’s sensed it brewing for a while now, his growing fondness for Buddy. It was probably always there, just waiting to be noticed, but it wasn’t until that day on the beach that it truly began to take shape. Ever since, it’s been quietly bubbling, bit by bit, inching closer to boiling over. 

But now, standing in his grandpa’s kitchen, feeling Buddy’s hands on his arms, looking at his wonderful face, Chase feels it in its entirety—pure, shameless, unadulterated love.

“You’re acting like an even bigger idiot than usual,” Buddy claims.

Chase blinks out of his daze and his less-than-surprising realisation. Of course he’s in love with Buddy.

He’s in love with Buddy.

Chase Everett Hollow, you are in love with Buddy… Surname? No, Buddy… Key. Nox. Nox Surname. Nox Ex Libris—no, wait, that’s probably offensive. Nox Key. Better yet, Nox Human. Buddy Human! You are in love with Buddy Human. Okay, that’s stupid. Wow, we really need to think of a proper surname for the keys—

“Chase.” Buddy looks slightly concerned now. “Am I speaking ancient Greek? What is the matter with you?”

Chase clears his throat. “Sorry. Just—just got a whiff of your breath and it was so awful it sent me to another dimension for a sec.”

Total lie—everything about Buddy smells divine. Chase is sure that if he were a corpse, he wouldn’t rot; he would crystallise into a celestial substance forbidden to mortals and worshipped by the moon. He smells like a vanilla candle lit by the hands of God herself. Like sweet honey harvested by emotionally intelligent bees. Like the pages of a brand-new book kissed by the breath of an angel. Like—

Oh my god, what is wrong with me? 

Buddy rolls his eyes and shoves him away. “Imbecile.”

Chase beams at him, and he loves him so much it aches—feels it so deeply he wants to shout it in his face, then climb onto a rooftop and scream it to all of Sugar Springs. 

It’s like he’s opened a dam to a city in his heart, and a tsunami has exploded through, flooding the city and drowning him completely—while Buddy probably lounges on a skyscraper rooftop, sunbathing with his headphones on, blissfully unaware.

“To think I was about to be nice to you despite how terribly you’ve treated me today,” Buddy says dramatically.

Chase pokes a playful finger into his stomach. “Aw, come on, Noxy boo—”

“What did I say about calling me that?”

Chase surges forward and kisses him, seemingly out of nowhere, unable to stop himself. He’s overcome with love, and he’s already let it consume him whole. He has to put this overwhelming energy somewhere, and Buddy’s lips seem like the perfect place.

Buddy makes a strained noise of surprise against his lips. It’s not the best kiss, admittedly. Chase is smiling too hard and wide for either of them to fully indulge. But Chase doesn’t care—he just wants to feel him. 

Buddy laughs, muffled, cupping Chase’s face and pulling him away. His cheeks are even pinker now. “What is wrong with you today?”

Chase grins harder, reaching up to touch his wrists. “Whaddaya mean?”

“You’re being weird.”

“No,” Chase denies weakly, “I’m being very normal!”

Buddy tilts his head, frowning suddenly. “Are you high?”

“What?”

“Did Bronze give you some of that weed he found?”

“What?”

Buddy shakes his head. “Nothing, nevermind.”

“Wha—Where did—?”

“Are you sick?”

Chase huffs. “No, I am not sick, Buddy.”

“Then why are you being a little freak?” he asks with an amused smile.

Chase doesn’t answer—just rolls his eyes, smiling, and looks away in an uncharacteristically shy manner. That move alone catches Buddy’s attention.

He raises a brow. “Ha! See? Right there. That. What’s wrong with you?”

Chase purses his lips as Buddy gently grabs his chin and forces him to look into his eyes again. 

“Don’t lie to me, Chase,” he says teasingly, and Chase gets a sudden fleeting flashback to a moment they once had in a book—the first time Buddy ever called him by his actual name. His hair was parted down the middle then, Chase remembers. 

Thank you so much for that, Violet.

“Tell me,” Buddy urges.

No reply. Just a stupid smile.

“Come on,” he insists, but Chase can tell he’s not being totally serious. He knows this because if he did genuinely believe Chase was holding something back, he wouldn’t be begging so much. He would more likely get all sulky about it and repeatedly sigh dramatically until Chase spat it out.

That thought alone makes Chase smile harder. 

“Oh, I see.” Buddy takes a step back, as if having come to a sudden realization, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re mocking me.”

Chase bursts out laughing. “What?”

“You mock me,” Buddy repeats. 

“How am I mocking you?”

“Every time you look at me, you’re probably reliving that ridiculous little tackling stunt in your mind.”

“I honestly forgot all about that for a second, but thank you for reminding me because now I am actually reliving it. And it’s hilarious.”

“Yes, yes, laugh all you want,” Buddy says. “While you still can.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“That’s the point.”

“Oh, Buddy,” Chase sighs with a giggle, stepping into his space again and wrapping his arms around his middle. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind me.”

“I’ve eaten flies,” Buddy retorts quickly. “Alive,” he adds. 

“For real?”

He pauses, then quietly admits, “...No.”

Chase scoffs. “Yeah. You’re too fancy for that. All ‘ooh la la,’ and stuff.”

Buddy raises a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Fancy people don’t eat bugs.”

“Actually—”

“‘The French eat snails,’ blah, blah, blah, yeah, yeah, I know.” Chase waves him off. “That doesn’t count. French people are a myth fabricated by the British government to distract us from their crimes against humanity.”

“... Actually,” Buddy continues, “snails aren’t bugs. They’re molluscs. What I was going to say is that in parts of Thailand, grasshoppers and ants are served as delicacies in a lot of high-end restaurants. So, yes, ‘fancy people’ do eat bugs, sometimes.”

Chase narrows his eyes, though a surge of fondness stirs within him. “You’re such a know-it-all.”

“It’s called reading. You should try it.”

“You should try not being a total nerd. Literally what book did you even get that information from?”

“Layers of Asia,” he answers airily. “I read it a few years ago. It was very interesting. The author spent six years traveling around the entirety of Asia, immersing herself in different cultures, and writing about her experience. Then I suppose she visited America as she later published Layers of Central America, which I found to be much slower at times, but still very informative.”

Chase is smiling again suddenly like an idiot, and it’s rather uncontrollable. He likes hearing Buddy talk in general, even when he’s insulting him. But he especially likes hearing Buddy’s thoughts on things he’s enjoyed. He almost wants to ask him to give him a full book review on this random lady’s adventures in Asia. Not because he’s particularly interested in the book, or anything—no offense, lady. He just likes watching Buddy’s eyes light up. 

“Cool,” he says simply before rising a bit onto his tiptoes to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, taking Buddy once again by slight surprise. 

The door swings open suddenly, followed by a heavy pair of footsteps. Grandpa Ralph halts in his tracks at the rather intimate sight before him. Chase huffs in amusement as Buddy flushes in embarrassment immediately and takes an innocent step away from him. 

Ralph just shakes his head. “I’m not here,” he mutters, hands raised in surrender as he continues on, walking straight through to the kitchen to the side door and letting himself outside.

Chase giggles as the door clicks shut behind him. “He doesn’t care, you know.”

“Doesn’t care about what?”

“That we’re, like, together.”

“Well, I know that,” Buddy mumbles. “I still don’t enjoy doing…that…in front of him.”

“What, affection?”

“Yes.”

“That’s okay.” Chase shrugs. “PDA makes me feel weird too.”

Buddy hums.

“...But,” Chase sings, closing the space between them once again. Buddy arches a brow, watching him with intrigue. “We aren’t in public now, sooo…”

Buddy grins, a slow, knowing smile creeping up his face. “No. We aren’t.”

Chase responds with a silent, big, exaggerated wink, nudging him with his elbow. 

“You’re such a little idiot,” Buddy says—probably his most-used sentence in the past month—smiling down at Chase with such warmth and care that Chase suddenly feels the urge to run around squealing like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. God, he loves him so much. 

And he wants to tell him. It’s the only thing at the forefront of his mind as Buddy gently connects their lips once again—I love you, I love you, I love you. 

He needs to tell him. The words are right there, edging at the tip of his tongue, desperate to escape. But at the same time, he needs to keep kissing him—the mere thought of pulling away from him right now feels like an unbearable loss.

“Guys, seriously, I don’t want to see this,” someone says.

Startled by the unexpected voice, the two practically spring apart in an instant, and Chase hisses in pain as Buddy accidentally bites his lip.

“Wh—Deacon!” Chase groans, hand flying to his stinging lower lip. 

Deacon stands in the doorframe, headband still on, for whatever reason, and his expression twisted in disgust. 

“Shit,” Buddy mutters, steadying himself. Guilt swims in his eyes as he carefully grazes the tiny red mark on Chase’s lip with his thumb. “Sorry.”

Chase winces but shakes his head, a small smile on his lips despite the pain. “‘S fine.”

I love you, I love you, I love you. The words repeat in his head like a mantra, echoing through his thoughts as Buddy does nothing but stand breathing before him.

“You two are gross.”

“Go away, Dorkin!”

Deacon turns on his heel, leaving the kitchen with a grumbled, “I live here too, you know.”

Buddy sighs, dropping his hand from Chase’s lip as Deacon’s footsteps fade. “No more kissing in this kitchen,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Chase groans theatrically, throwing his head back in frustration, but there’s still a faint smile playing at his lips as Buddy watches him with that familiar fond gaze that makes Chase’s heart flutter.

As comfortable silence settles between them, the three little words Chase has been holding back press against his chest, threatening to spill out, and it takes everything in him to keep them down.

Not yet, Chasey. Not yet.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Buddy has completely taken over Chase’s life without even realising it. 

When he’s not with Buddy, he’s thinking about him, and when he’s not thinking about him, it’s only because his mind’s completely blank—either sleeping or swept up in a kiss with the boy that makes him forget everything else.

Wandering across the dirt road to the Hidden Toadstool Grove has become second nature to Chase by now.

He often finds himself strolling over and knocking on the door without thinking, only realising what he's doing when Mrs. G or one of the keyple opens it. He's there nearly every day—the only exceptions being when Buddy beats him by coming over to the farmhouse first. 

Deacon insists it’s unhealthy to spend so much time with your boyfriend, but Chase just tunes him out. What does Deacon know about relationships, anyway? He can’t even talk to girls. 

“You guys are gonna get sick of each other,” is what he tells him, but it only serves to make Chase laugh out loud. He could never get sick of being around Buddy.

He’s walking over to the B&B, yet again, this time with an actual goal in mind: tell Buddy he loves him. He’s practiced his speech in the mirror countless times, and he murmurs it to himself again as he makes his way across the road.

He presses his lips together suddenly, cutting off his whispered love confessions, when he spots Prunella coming into view—skipping down the path, the school bag swinging off her shoulder making it very clear where she’s just come from.

“Hey, kid.”

“You’re here again?” she wrinkles her nose as she falls into step beside him.

Chase scoffs. “Yeah, because you never invite yourself over to my house without cause.”

“I have cause,” she replies. “It is because I’m bored.”

“That’s a lame cause.”

“It’s better than coming over to see your prissy little boyfriend.”

“Prissy?” Chase laughs as they step up onto the porch of the B&B. 

Prunella rings the doorbell, and a sparkly little melody plays—bright and jingly, like fairy bells. “He was in such a mood this morning.”

Chase’s brows pinch together in a frown. “What? Why?”

“I think sharing a room with Goldie is starting to get to him,” Prunella replies with a snicker. 

Chase opens his mouth to speak, but the door swinging open cuts him off before he can ask any further questions. 

Ro stands in the entrance, smiling warmly. “Welcome home, Prunella!”

“Thanks,” she chirps, skipping past him as he steps aside.

“And hello to you, Chase!”

“Hey,” Chase greets with a smile, trailing in behind as Prunella disappears upstairs. “Is, uh… Nox here?”

Ro shuts the door, then turns with sudden gravity. “Yes… he is.”

Chase blinks, confused. “Is everything okay…?”

“I must warn you,” Ro says, lowering his voice and stepping in just a bit. Chase leans closer, instinctively.

“He’s having a terrible day,” Ro whispers, his tone grave, his face carved with solemnity. “And now we all must suffer.”

“...What happened?”

“Perhaps you should go speak with him,” Ro says, stepping back again. “He’s very fond of you—you can cheer him up!”

Chase hesitates. His cheeks warm slightly, and he glances toward the stairs, unsure. “I’ll… try my best.”

Ro exhales with theatrical relief and clasps Chase’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he says, before sweeping off down the hall.

So much for his mission of professing his undying love. 

Chase lingers a second, then swallows and heads upstairs toward Buddy and Goldie’s room.

The upstairs hallway is dim and cozy, with creaky floorboards and soft voices drifting from behind closed spruce doors, each one carved with subtle, whimsical designs such as leaves, stars, and mushrooms. Dark wood paneling lines the walls, broken up only by floral sconces shaped like blooming petals or tiny lanterns. 

The closer he gets to Buddy’s room, the more the muffled sound of raised voices reaches his ears. It’s not shouting, exactly—just a low, frustrated tone that cuts through the otherwise peaceful house. 

He pauses outside the door, straining to listen, but the words remain unclear. His eyes drift to the opposite door which is wide open. Violet sits, propped up against the headboard of her bed, a book resting in her lap.

She meets his gaze and, with a slow, deliberate motion, shakes her head. The arguing continues behind Buddy and Goldie’s door, unrelenting.

“What the hell is going on?” Chase questions.

Violet doesn’t look up from her book as she responds, her tone flat, “Stupidity, dear. That’s what.”

A soft scuffling sound rises from somewhere within Violet’s room, followed by a quick, light thudding of footsteps on the wooden floorboards. Silver’s head suddenly pokes out from the doorway, her eyes wide.

Her face brightens when she spots him. “Hello, Chase!”

“Hi, Sil,” he says, glancing back at the door behind him. “Has this been going on all day?” He gestures toward the room with a jerk of his thumb.

Silver’s smile falters, and she nods slowly, her voice solemn. “I’m afraid so.”

“Where’s Mrs. G?”

“Weekly ladies luncheon,” Silver swiftly answers. 

Of course. 

“Do you know what’s going on in there?” Chase nods toward the closed door again.

“I… have an idea, yes.”

“Leave them to it, Chase,” Violet says. “There’s no getting through to Nox when he’s like this. Goldie is the only one of us who doesn’t seem to understand that—or rather, he just doesn’t care.”

Chase’s eyes dart from Violet to Silver, brows furrowing. “When he’s like what?”

Violet smoothly turns a page without looking up. “You’re going to walk in there regardless, so by all means—enlighten yourself.”

“If you are planning to do that,” Silver says, sheepishly, “I’m just going to… shut this door now, okay?”

“...Okay?”

“Good luck,” is the last thing he hears from Violet, just before the door clicks shut in his face and the two girls vanish from sight.

The floorboards creak beneath Chase as he's left alone in the hallway, the muffled bickering behind him the only other sound.

Cautiously, he turns and twists the doorknob. For a moment, he hesitates—then, he pushes through.

Like surfacing from underwater, the voices are suddenly crystal clear.

“—part are you not understanding? This is very simple!” Buddy is saying, his voice sharp and cutting.

“What I cannot for the life of me understand is why you so strongly oppose such a magnificent decoration!” Goldie declares, his voice booming with exaggerated outrage.

Buddy splutters, hands flying. “Because it’s ridiculous!”

“It is not!”

Neither of them acknowledge Chase as he shuts the door behind him, leaning back against it and watching the fiery exchange with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“It’s an eyesore and I hate it.” 

“It is a beacon of joy, brother! A celestial jewel to crown this humble chamber!”

“Um, hello?” Chase tries to interject. 

“Chase, not now,” Buddy snaps, sparing him a sharp glance.

Chase squints, not happy with that response at all. 

Okay, new mission: fix Buddy.

…Again. 

He crosses his arms as he takes a few steps further into the room. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Buddy hisses. 

“Why, I shall tell you what is going on!” Goldie says, spinning toward Chase with a dramatic flair, his hands on his hips. A flash of frustration flickers in his eyes—much lighter than Buddy’s, but enough to catch Chase off guard. It’s an expression on Goldie he’s not used to seeing. 

Buddy rolls his eyes.

“Yesterday, fate led me to stumble upon this wonderful glittering orb whilst I found myself stuck in Miss Agatha’s attic!” Goldie exclaims, pointing enthusiastically upward.

Chase cranes his neck to follow his finger, his eyes landing on the large, shiny silver disco ball dangling directly above their heads. He slowly lowers his gaze again. “...How did you get stuck in the a—”

“—And so I kindly requested she let me showcase it in my chambers, and, being the wonderful woman she is, she graciously agreed—”

Buddy interrupts with a loud scoff. “As Prunella later informed me, what she actually said was, ‘As long as Nox is alright with it, I don’t see why not.’”

Goldie glances at Chase with a funny look as though he’s explaining something perfectly clear before looking back to Buddy. “Yes. So. She agreed!”

“I am not alright with it!” 

Goldie ignores him, turning back to Chase and resuming undeterred, “So I hung this marvelous ball from the ceiling last night, and I tell you, Nox did not even notice it!”

Buddy huffs, his foot tapping angrily against the floorboards as Goldie recounts his tale.

“Until this very morning, when he cruelly awakened me from the depths of my slumber, seized it down, and hurled it upon my person!”

Chase stares, unsure whether to laugh or walk out. 

“That thing woke me up when the sun’s rays struck it, and it blinded me with all its—its—wretched sparkle!” Buddy fumes.

Chase pursues his lips. “I thought you liked sparkly things.”

“I—” Buddy flounders, visibly flustered, “I don’t like them when they’re blinding me and dragging me out of a perfectly good sleep!”

“See, that’s the part I fail to grasp,” Goldie counters. “How could it possibly blind you, brother, if your eyes were closed?”

Buddy growls. “Is your brain still composed of metal?”

“I have a human brain composed of neurons, just as yours is!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“If you threw it at him,” Chase says to Buddy, “how’d it get back up…?”

“I did not throw it,” Buddy corrects. “I removed it. Forcefully. In self-defense.”

“You hurled it with spite!” Goldie protests.

“I was half asleep! I didn’t even know what it was at first!”

“Once Nox returned to his slumber, I seized the moment, and I restored the orb to its rightful spot,” Goldie explains. 

Buddy glares. “But it woke me up again, so I took it down. Again.” 

“...Right,” Chase says. “And how many times has this happened today?”

“Eight,” Buddy answers through gritted teeth.

Chase giggles. “Eight?”

“Yes. I have taken that thing down eight times today.”

“And I’ve put it back up eight times.” Goldie beams. “One might call it a dance.”

“One might call it psychological torment,” Buddy spits.

Chase sighs, smiling faintly. “Look, guys—”

“Look at him, Chase!” Buddy cuts in, gesturing wildly at the former Hero Key standing proudly beneath the disco ball, chin held high. “He’s guarding it with his life now! He won’t let me near it! It’s—it’s pathetic!”

“I think it shows passion,” Chase muses. 

Buddy scowls at him. “You’re on his side,” he states plainly. 

“Wha—I didn’t say that!” Chase objects. 

“Good man, Chase,” Goldie praises. “You stand on the right side of history!”

“I’m not on anyone’s side!” Chase insists, then immediately senses his mistake when Buddy’s glare sharpens. He clears his throat. “…But if I were, I’d obviously be on Nox’s side, for sure.”

Buddy huffs loudly, rolling his eyes again as he stubbornly folds his arms in a sulk.

“Maybe you guys can… compromise?” Chase suggests weakly.

“I don’t want to compromise—I want that monstrosity off the ceiling,” Buddy retorts.

Chase turns helplessly to Goldie, who shakes his head with calm finality. “I will not allow you to take Humbert down.”

“Hum—you named it?” Chase blinks.

“Of course I named him. What do you take me for?”

“I haven’t heard you call it that once today,” Buddy mutters.

“I only just came up with it now.”

“Okay, how about this,” Chase starts, hands splayed in front of him in a still, open gesture. “Goldie gets to keep Humbert up on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays—”

“No,” Buddy cuts in, fierce and immediate. 

Chase exhales. “Then what if Humbert stays up during the day, but Goldie has to take him down every evening so Buddy doesn’t wake up with him… flashing all over him.”

Buddy grimaces.

“A most excellent idea, Chase!” Goldie exclaims. 

“Right?” Chase says. “You can put it—I mean him—back up once the both of you are up and wide awake!”

“Nox,” Goldie turns enthusiastically to his brother, “what do you think?”

Buddy stares at him with a withering glare. His eyes flick to Chase—who’s watching him expectantly with those big, pleading eyes—and he feels his scowl begin to falter. The muscles in his face soften almost against his will, like they’ve learned by now that resistance is pointless when it comes to that look from Chase. 

He catches himself and blushes, irritated at how easily he’s folding. With a huff, he turns his head away. “Fine,” he says, spitting the word out like it burns.

Chase lights up instantly, beaming at Buddy like the sun itself, and Goldie cries out a victorious cheer of delight. 

“I must go tell the others of my triumph!” Goldie declares suddenly, making toward the door.

“Triumph? What triumph?” Buddy frowns.

“In the great war for Humbert’s rights to exist freely within this room.”

“You cheated,” Buddy hisses.

Goldie looks back at him with his hand on the doorknob, bewildered. “Cheated?! In what way?!”

“You used—” Buddy cuts himself off, frantically gesturing toward Chase.

Chase’s eyes ping between the former Hero and Villain Keys, totally lost. “Huh?”

Goldie just grins knowingly, pulling the door open and slipping out into the hallway without another word. 

“This isn’t over,” Buddy grumbles, mostly to himself. 

“Yes, it is,” Chase responds anyway. “It is over. I resolved it. You’re welcome.”

Buddy shakes his head, resolute. “No. He won the battle, but I will win the war.”

“This is so stupid.”

Buddy looks skyward, glaring daggers at the gently spinning disco ball. “I will smash Rupert to pieces when he’s not looking.”

“It’s Humbert,” Chase corrects. “And you can’t do that. You can’t destroy something that someone has named. That’s just cruel.”

Buddy meets his eyes again. He’s silent for a moment—gazing at him softly. 

“Hi, by the way,” he says eventually.

Chase snorts. “Hi.”

“I’m… sorry if I was abrupt with you earlier.”

“It’s okay. You’ve said worse to me,” Chase jokes. 

A laugh tumbles from Buddy’s lips, the sound warm and beautiful. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Um.” Chase swallows. “Buddy, I…”

Buddy watches him, calm and patient, head tilted slightly.

“I have to say something,” he says, his heart suddenly racing, pounding like it’s going a million miles an hour.

Why is this so terrifying all of a sudden?

“Yeah?” Buddy says, cool and steady.

“Uhhh.”

Just tell him.

“So, basically…”

No, not like that. Do not start your love confession like that. 

“Ummmmm.”

Buddy’s brows knit together, a confused smile stretching across his wonderful face. 

Chase gives his head a small shake, like he’s trying to snap himself out of it.

“I—what I’m trying to say to you, Buddy, is—like…”

Okay, yeah, immediately no. You’ve fucked it, Chasey. Just shut up. 

Buddy’s eyes flick briefly to the side, then back to him. He looks very confused. But also mildly entertained.

Chase sighs. “Wanna… do you wanna watch a movie?”

Buddy purses his grinning lips, staring quietly at him for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

Chase smiles in response, strained and awkward.

Mission failed. We’ll get ‘em next time. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Bronze, for the last time, these aren’t even groceries for your household,” Chase says as Bronze slips another peanut-butter-themed food item into the cart. “Stop putting crap in my cart!”

Bronze doesn’t say anything. He just shrugs, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, and strolls a few steps ahead like he didn’t hear a word.

Chase huffs, bends forward, and yanks the packet of peanut butter cookies out of the cart, shoving them onto the nearest shelf. 

“Where does he keep finding all of this stuff?” he grumbles, continuing to push the cart along as they make their way down the final aisle of the store.

Silver laughs quietly under her breath. “I can’t say.”

Chase shakes his head. “We’re already way over budget. Grandpa’s gonna kill me for spending nearly two hundred dollars on groceries.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Silver says, her fingers twiddling behind her back as she walks, eyes wide with fascination at the colorful rows of snacks.

Bronze spins around, his shoes squeaking against the floor. “Hey, look at this.” He holds up a giant plastic jar—easily the size of his head—stuffed to the brim with neon-orange cheese puffs.

Silver gasps in delight, rushing forward. “Oh, I love these things!”

“Guys, no,” Chase says firmly. “We already have way too much junk food. This cart is a heart attack on wheels.”

Silver pouts, her eyes big and glossy. “Please, Chase? Just these ones and then we’re done, I promise!”

He’s not sure why they are unable to comprehend the fairly simple fact that these groceries aren’t even for the B&B.

“Ugh…” 

Her eyes somehow grow even bigger. “Please?”

Chase groans. Damn Silver and her puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine.”

She squeals happily as Bronze steps forward and nestles the enormous jar atop the Reece’s Cups and the Haribos. 

“I mean it, though!” Chase insists. “That’s it. We’re paying now and we’re leaving.”

Silver nods once, her expression overly firm with understanding. Bronze roams ahead, curiosity sparkling in his eyes, a stark contrast to the nonchalant, almost bored way he carries himself.

They reach the end of the aisle, and Chase maneuvers the cart around the corner toward checkout, but stops dead in his tracks when his eyes land on a King Bar.

He purses his lips, hesitates for a moment, then snatches it up and tosses it into the cart. Bronze turns and raises an eyebrow, adjusting the toothpick permanently wedged between his teeth. 

“Well, well, well,” Silver says playfully. “Was that a chocolate bar I just witnessed you take?”

Chase slumps down, elbows propped on the cart handles. “Yes, and?”

“I thought we were done?” she teases. “It is alright for you to indulge, hm?”

“I have a sneaky feeling that the chocolate isn’t for him, Sil,” Bronze remarks rather flatly from ahead. 

Silver blinks at Bronze, bemused for a moment before realisation slowly dawns across her face. “Oh! I see!”

“...He’d be mad if I went to the store and didn’t buy him any,” Chase says, gradually starting to push the cart again.

Bronze stares silently at him, unmoving. 

“What?” Chase exasperates. 

He hums, turning his back to him again and walking ahead.

Silver giggles from beside him, and Chase snaps his head to her, frowning. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing is funny,” she responds, her smile bright and genuine. “I’m just happy for you, is all.”

Chase blinks twice. “Oh. Thank you. Thanks. Wait—um… why?”

They fall into line at the back of the only open checkout queue.

“Because,” she shrugs, “you’re in love.”

Chase splutters. “Wha—how did you—?! I mean, wait, no—you—!”

“It can’t really be that fresh,” Bronze interrupts absently, holding a small pack of gum with big, bold letters across the label that reads, World’s Freshest Gum!

“Are you not?” Silver raises her eyebrows at Chase in surprise. “In love, that is?”

“I’m—” Chase cuts himself off with a huff, glancing around on the extremely unlikely chance that Buddy is, for some reason, nearby. “Keep your voice down, please,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Silver looks around too in mild confusion. “Why? Is something the matter?”

“What makes it that much fresher than other kinds of gum?” Bronze muses. 

“Just—I haven’t, like, told him yet,” Chase explains, his voice a loud whisper. 

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“I don’t know! It’s—It’s hard! It’s not as easy as they make it look on TV.”

“Why must humans feel the need to lie in order to sell their products?” Bronze mutters, placing the gum back on the shelf beside the checkout, shaking his head in disapproval. “If you have to lie, perhaps your product just isn’t that good.”

“You should just tell him, Chase,” Silver says softly, her tone encouraging. “He loves you very much, too.”

Chase feels his heart skip a beat.

He wets his lips, swallowing before asking, “Did—did he tell you that?”

“...Well, no, not exactly,” she clarifies, and Chase’s shoulders instantly sag. “But I can tell that he does! There is no doubt in my mind!”

“Unless it truly is the world’s freshest gum,” Bronze murmurs, tapping a finger against his chin in thought as he stares at the shelf. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?”

“Look, I’ll tell him eventually,” Chase says, the queue moving up. “Just promise me you won’t say anything to him.”

Silver shakes her head frantically. “Oh, no, of course I won’t!”

He nods gratefully before turning to Bronze. “You too, Bronze. Please don’t say anything to Buddy about this.”

Bronze glances sideways at him. “I wouldn’t worry, Chase. I lost interest in this conversation a long time ago.”

“...Great. Thanks.”

“Your secret is safe with us!” she chirps, grinning as she mimes zipping her lips. Chase exhales a muted laugh.

“Next,” Audrey, the shop owner, calls out almost robotically. 

The cart moves forward, and Chase quickly scooches around to unload the items onto the conveyor belt. Unsurprisingly, Silver enthusiastically jumps in to help, while Bronze casually strolls ahead, slipping past the checkout area and over to the exit, where he drifts aimlessly through the long aisle, treating it like it’s simultaneously the most boring yet fascinating thing he’s ever encountered.

“Heya, Silver,” Audrey greets warmly as she begins to scan everything.

Silver snaps her head up, recognition flashing across her face. “Oh, hello, Audrey!”

Chase pauses for a moment, watching the interaction in quiet surprise. Of course Silver has already immersed herself with the locals of Sugar Springs—including Audrey from GroveMart. 

“How’re you, sugar?”

“I’m doing splendid, Audrey, how are you?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she answers with a half-shrug. 

“How’s Dennis getting on?”

“He’s doin’ just fine. Made a few friends already. No complaints. Crazy how fast they grow, ain’t it?”

Silver lets out a sort of nostalgic sigh, nodding. “Oh, I know.”

Chase feels his face twist as he holds back a bewildered laugh. 

What does Silver know about kids growing up fast?

“And how’re you, Chase?”

“Hm?” He looks up suddenly, eyes wide as he masks his amusement. “Oh! Yeah, I’m all good.”

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s okay.”

Audrey shakes her head with a deep sigh. “Such a shame she ain’t ever get to be Dennis’ teacher. The new one’s a lovely woman, but she’s no Mrs. Hollow. That’s what all the kids are saying, anyway. Myra was a real life Miss Honey.”

Chase stiffens. 

“You mean she is a real life Miss Honey,” he corrects, his voice tight as he unpacks item after item onto the belt. His eyes remain fixed on the task, deliberately avoiding Audrey’s gaze. “She’s not dead. She’ll be back at work soon.”

“Oh, right, of course. That’s—I ain’t mean it like that—”

“Who is Miss Honey?” Silver cuts in immediately, sensing Chase’s increasing discomfort. 

“You ain’t ever seen Matilda ? That cult not give y’all any DVDs down there?”

“No? What is that?”

“Oh, sugar, you got catchin’ up to do.”

Chase knows, without a doubt, that Silver is perfectly aware of who the famous book character Miss Honey is, and that she more than likely has had her key form stuck into Matilda —possibly even assigned a keyholder the role of Miss Honey, if not Matilda herself. Or maybe that was more of a Mentor Key role. 

Nonetheless, he kind of wants to turn around and buy her the entire candy aisle for proceeding to take part in the ensuing conversation with Audrey, as she rather poorly explains the plot of Matilda .

“Thank you,” he whispers to her, his lips barely moving, while Audrey continues to yap on.

Silver keeps her eyes on the woman, feigning interest with polite nods, but Chase knows she heard him when she subtly gives his arm a gentle squeeze without ever looking his way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s a warm September evening, and everyone is soaking up the last of the summer sun before autumn arrives in all her golden, crisp beauty.

Buddy is sprawled out comfortably in the grass with Violet and Coral, their voices drifting just enough for Chase to hear the hum of conversation—but not the words—from where he sits on the shaded B&B porch steps, with Prunella settled in between him and Deacon.

The other keyple are similarly scattered lazily across the expanse of Mrs. G’s lawn in different little groups—but he barely notices them. His focus is glued entirely to an oblivious Buddy, staring rather creepily at him with his chin in the palm of his hand. 

He traces the outline of Buddy’s side profile with his eyes, quietly admiring the way the sunlight catches in his jet-black hair, making it shine.

I love you, he tries to telepathically communicate to him. I love you, I love you.

“Look at us,” Deacon sighs blissfully, and Chase reluctantly drags his gaze away from Buddy to glance at Deacon over Prunella’s head to his right.

Deacon’s eyes are also locked appreciatively on the scene before them, watching the keyple lounging in the sun.

“What?” Chase says.

Deacon sighs again, dramatically content. “We freed the keys, reunited their family, and now we get to watch them bask in the sun, living their best lives. I mean, who would’ve thought?”

Chase and Prunella exchange a look. 

Deacon turns his head toward them, nodding slightly with a sappy smile. “We did good, guys. I’m proud of us.”

Prunella blinks. “Deacon, don’t take this the wrong way—”

Deacon’s eyes blow wide. “—No, don’t, just let me—”

“—You’re so corny.”

Chase laughs. 

Deacon huffs, snapping his head away from her. “I am not. I’m—I’m poetic.”

“You’re an idiot is what you are.”

“Prunella! ” Mrs. G calls from somewhere inside the house. “Come here for a second, love! ”

Prunella sighs quietly as she gets to her feet. “Coming, Mom!” she yells, dashing inside. 

Chase turns back to Buddy, resuming his quiet adoration. Deacon notices almost immediately and groans. 

“You are so annoying,” he says plainly.

Chase merely hums, his stare unwavering.

“Does he know?”

“Does who know what?”

“Does Buddy know that you’re hopelessly, disgustingly in love with him?”

Chase whips his neck toward him at the speed of light as he aggressively shushes him. “Deacon! ”

Deacon frowns. “What?” 

Chase quickly scans the lawn in a panic, paranoia kicking in fast—but no one seems to have heard. “Tell the entire world, why don’t you?! ” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Deacon raises a brow. “When are you gonna tell him?”

“That’s—none of your business,” Chase mumbles. 

“It becomes my business when you shamelessly gawk at him right in front of me.”

“Let me live, Dorkin.”

“Tell. Him.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Chase demands, frowning hard at him.

“Because I can’t put up with this silent yearning anymore,” Deacon complains. “It’s disturbing and unsettling.”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“I’m dramatic? You’re staring at Buddy like you’re a Victorian sailor who’s been lost at sea for seven years and you just spotted your lover standing on the cliffs in gale-force winds.”

“...Dude, seriously, you read way too much romance novels—”

“Stop changing the subject!” Deacon snaps. 

“I’m not changing the—” He stops himself with a huff. “Look, I’ve tried to tell him and—it’s… it’s scary!”

“Try harder then,” Deacon says, entirely unhelpful.

“Okay, great, thanks. Why didn’t I think of that.”

“No, seriously,” he continues, sliding over a few inches closer to him, “when has fear ever gotten in your way of literally anything?”

Chase stares silently at him, considering. 

“You’re telling me you weren’t scared when we infiltrated Ex Libris and stole all of those keys?”

“Of course I was,” Chase scoffs. “I was shitting myself.”

“Yet you did it anyway.”

“...I guess.”

“And not to… you know, downplay your feelings or anything… but in comparison to that, this is barely a side quest.”

Chase smiles weakly in response, eyes naturally catching onto Buddy again. 

“So… just tell him.” Deacon shrugs. 

Buddy’s lips are moving calmly as he speaks, Violet and Coral visibly listening closely to whatever he’s saying. 

“He’s so great,” Chase murmurs dreamily.

“Okay, no. No, no, no.” Deacon slides away again. “Me saying all of that wasn’t me giving you permission to—to gush about Buddy to me. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Oh, relax.” Chase rolls his eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If you can’t handle that, you’d have a heart attack if you could read my inner thoughts, Deacon, seriously. I mean, it is raunchy stuff—”

Deacon places his hands over his ears. “Nope. Nope. Don’t wanna know.”

“If I could, I would climb him like a tree—”

“Oh my God.” Deacon launches himself to his feet, face twisted in horror. 

Chase cackles loudly as he watches as he practically sprints away from him, joining Silver and Sage in the grass—the two girls greeting him with pleasant surprise.

As always, his gaze finds Buddy on its own accord, and he's not expecting Buddy to be looking right back at him this time, his head fully angled to the side. He feels his heart stop when their eyes meet across the garden, sunlight sparkling in his bright blue eyes. 

Then, with a subtle tilt of his head and a tiny smile, Buddy motions for him to come over.

Chase isn’t one to leave him waiting. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Four days later, Chase still hasn’t told Buddy his feelings, and Deacon is leaving for college.

His bags are thrown into the back of Ralph’s car, his room cleared out, and the sky is thick with overcast clouds.

Summer had to end at some point, Chase supposes.

Birds chirp noisily nearby as everyone gathers around the car outside Hollow Farmhouse, Deacon standing with his last bag slung over his shoulder.

Grandpa won’t drop him straight to college—Deacon’s heading home first to say goodbye to his parents and Myra. Then he’ll be off to continue premed, which should be a breeze, really, considering how much studying he definitely did over the summer.

“Oh, Deacon,” Silver says, throwing her arms around him. “We’re going to miss you very much!”

Deacon freezes for a split second, his hands hovering awkwardly and his cheeks flushing pink, unsure whether to return the hug. He settles for a stiff pat on the back, though Silver doesn’t appear to even notice.

“I’m gonna miss you guys too,” he says as she pulls away, offering him a wistful smile.

Goldie pushes forward with urgency, bending to wrap his arms around Deacon’s middle and lifting him high off the ground. Deacon splutters in surprise, completely caught off guard.

“It has been an honour, my friend,” Goldie says, his voice muffled in Deacon’s chest. “This new world will not be the same without you by my side.”

“Um, y–yeah. For sure,” Deacon stammers, blinking down at the man who currently has him trapped in his arms.

“He’s going to college, not the afterlife, man,” Chase says as Goldie gently sets a flustered Deacon back on the ground. 

“Bye, Deacon,” Prunella says, and Deacon blinks down at her, having abruptly materialised out of nowhere right in front of him. 

“Bye, Prunella,” he replies, and she holds up a hand for a high-five, which Deacon amusedly returns.

“Deacon,” Violet begins suddenly as she gracefully steps forth.

Deacon stares at her, wide-eyed and unmoving. 

“I have not known you very long, and we have not spent too much time together,” she says, her tone calm and sincere. “However, I can tell you took good care of my siblings during the time we spent separated. Thank you for that. Silver, Bronze, and Goldie are very fond of you—and that is quite telling. You are a good person, and I am sad to see you go.”

Deacon’s lips part slowly in surprise. “Oh,” he says lamely. “Th—Thank you. That’s—that’s really nice of you to say, Violet.”

She nods curtly in acknowledgment, her smile soft, before stepping back again. 

Deacon turns, facing toward Bronze, who stands coolly to his right. 

Bronze reaches a hand up and removes the toothpick from his mouth before simply saying, “Have fun.”

Deacon lets out a short, amused breath. “I’ll miss you too, Bronze.”

Bronze doesn’t say anything else, but the slight, unspoken grin on his face says it all.

Deacon’s eyes shift to the next person in line—Buddy. 

Buddy assesses him with a fleeting once-over, lips pursed.

“Goodbye, Freckles,” is all he says. Beside him, Chase lightly kicks his shin and he grunts before addressing Deacon again with a huff. “Goodbye, Deacon.”

Deacon smiles. “See ya, Buddy.”

He doesn’t even get the chance to crack some sort of a joke when he gets to Chase—he throws his arms around him so fast and so tightly that Deacon stumbles back a step. 

Deacon’s initial surprise fades after a moment and he easily hugs him back.

“Thank you,” Chase whispers, quiet enough for only Deacon to hear. He doesn’t need to say anything else; the two words carry the weight of the entire summer, and Deacon understands every single meaning tucked inside them.

There’s a short pause before Deacon is muttering, “If I come back for Thanksgiving and and you still haven’t told him—”

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment,” Chase hisses into his ear before pulling away.

“See you soon, Chase,” Deacon says gingerly as they break apart. Chase steps back to Buddy’s side with a funny sort of awkwardness—he can’t remember the last time he and Deacon hugged. He leans into Buddy’s side, his head perfectly fitting into the crook of his neck

Ralph suddenly emerges from the house, car keys jingling in his hand.

“Ready, Deacon?” he calls as he descends the porch steps.

“Yeah, Grandpa,” Deacon replies over his shoulder, pulling the car door open and standing behind it, his hand resting on the frame

He takes one final look at the group in front of him, the rest of the keyple lingering further back with little sad smiles. 

“Bye, guys,” he breathes, and a soft chorus of goodbyes echoes back at him.

Bronze gives him one last nod, and Deacon nods back before ducking into the car. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s rare for Buddy to get a minute to himself these days. 

He doesn’t mind, though. He never did enjoy being alone.

Living with his family, free from Ex Libris, right next to Chase… it feels almost too good to be true. 

Sometimes he thinks it might all be a dream—that he’ll wake up as the Villain Key again, tucked away in that little crevice of Ex Libris where he and Violet hid together for months after his siblings had been lost. Sometimes he even dreams that it’s all a dream, waking with a jolt, clutching the sheets, his chest heaving before the soft sound of Goldie’s snoring across the room grounds him back to reality.

But as much as he loves his family, it’s still nice to get a moment of solitude. 

He’s laying back on a lawn chair in the back garden of the Hidden Toadstool Groove with a book, snug in a black sweater that Silver knitted for him, a welcome protector against the chilly September evening air.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out here. An hour, maybe two. He’ll occasionally hear the muffled sound of yelling and laughter or the clatter of dishes drifting from the house distracting him briefly from the words on the page, and he finds he doesn’t mind it. If anything, he cherishes it. A soft reminder that he’s not alone; that his family is close, just inside, living free and loud. 

It isn’t until Mrs. G’s automatic fairy lights flicker to life around him that Buddy realizes how long he’s been sitting there. He blinks up at the sky, now dimmed to a deep, dusky blue while the quiet chirp of crickets stirs from the grass. Taking it as a sign to head inside, he folds the page he’s on, closes the book, and sits up.

That’s precisely when he catches sight of distant movement in the dark.

He freezes, grip instinctively tightening around the book as he peers toward the treeline. 

It can’t be one of those reporters, can it? He hasn’t seen one in a while—he figured they’d finally gotten bored and moved on. Holding his breath, he squints cautiously into the shadows, his senses on high alert for any sudden movements or rustling. 

A flash of red hair. He exhales through his nose in relief, shoulders falling.

Prunella.

She’s threading her way through the woods, heading deeper, her small figure gradually swallowed by the trees and moving further out of sight. Buddy frowns.

What is she doing out there at this time?

He glances almost helplessly at the house behind him; lights on and golden through the windows. Then he looks back toward the woods surrounding the B&B, but Prunella’s already disappeared into the dark.

Buddy doesn’t have much experience with children, but he knows enough to be sure they probably shouldn’t be wandering alone through the woods at night.

He leaps to his feet, his book abandoned on the lawn chair, and hurries after her.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Buddy never knew there was a path out here.

It winds ahead of him, narrow and unfamiliar, lit by tiny fairy lights staked low in the grass and the occasional lanterns swinging gently from low-hanging branches. It’s just enough light to outline the trail and guide Buddy as he moves forward.

After about a minute of walking, he reaches a small clearing in the woods, lit up by even more fairy lights strung from the encompassing trees. In the center of the space, there’s a village—Verdania Village, according to the wooden sign at the end of the path. 

Buddy stares in surprise. 

At first, a part of him wonders if this tiny, hand-crafted village of miniature houses was made by Chase, Deacon, and Prunella for keys. But then his eyes fall on the delicate carving of a fairy on the sign, and the much more logical explanation hits him: Mrs. G made this village for fairies, because of course she did.

There’s no way any of them would have had the skills to build all of this, anyway, Buddy thinks. He’s seen the “houses” they built for Silver, Bronze and Goldie.

Prunella is crouched down with her back to him, focused on something in the little village. Buddy can’t make out what she’s doing, but the soft shuffling of movement reaches his ears—the sound of tiny hands at work.

He takes a step forward into the grass. “Prunella,” he says.

She whips around; not afraid or startled, just surprised.

She blinks up at him. “Buddy?”

“What are you doing out here?” he questions, moving closer. 

Prunella twists back around, weight resting on her hunkers. “Cleaning Verdania Village,” she answers simply.

Buddy lowers himself beside her, his gaze drifting across each tiny building. True to her word, Prunella is carefully picking stray leaves from the miniature roofs and sweeping bits of dirt and grass off the handmade paths.

“You… can’t do this in the morning?”

“I was supposed to do it earlier, but I forgot,” Prunella explains, gently plucking a twig from the little bakery’s open doorway.

Buddy awkwardly glances over his shoulder. “Well… it’s quite dark, so… you should finish this tomorrow. Come back with me.”

Prunella turns her head to him. “Why?”

“B–Because?” Buddy blinks. “It’s not safe for you to be out here on your own—”

“I’m not on my own.”

“You very much would have been had I not followed you—”

“Not safe from what, anyway?”

Buddy huffs. “I don’t know, bears?”

Prunella snorts, turning her attention back to Verdania Village. “There hasn’t been any bears sighted in Sugar Springs since 1996.”

“A journalist, then.”

“They’re too scared. They think Mr. Hollow has a gun.”

“Wh—really?”

“Yes. I overheard Mom talking about it at brunch with Lucinda.”

“Who’s… Lucinda—”

“Is that why you followed me out here? You think I can’t handle myself against bears? Or men with cameras?”

“You’re a child,” Buddy says. “Of course I don’t.”

“Well, I can. Here—look at this.” She unclips a small can of bear spray from her belt and holds it up like proof.

Buddy’s face twists. “I thought you said there were no bears to worry about?”

She puts it away again. “There’s not.”

“Then why do you have that?”

Prunella sighs like it’s obvious. “The chances of being attacked by a bear in Sugar Springs are exponentially low, but never zero. Better safe than sorry.”

Buddy watches her work in silence for a moment before muttering, “You’re a very strange child.”

Prunella just shrugs. “Are you gonna help me or just sit there?”

“I—” Buddy glares at her. 

No , he thinks. I cannot insult a child. Even the strange ones.

He huffs. “...Fine. If it will speed things up and get you back inside quicker.”

“Great,” Prunella says brightly. “You do the other side.” She nods toward the far end of Verdania Village.

Buddy obeys, rising to his feet and circling around the cluster of tiny houses until he kneels in the grass, directly across from Prunella, the whimsical little village laid out between them. A distant owl hoots as he gets to work, gently brushing away stray bits of nature that have been caught inside the miniature buildings.

“How come you were the Villain Key?” Prunella asks abruptly, and Buddy’s fingers freeze midair for a moment.

He clears his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering how they assigned each role,” Prunella says airily, brushing some dirt off her hands. “What made them give you the villain one?”

“The keys were not assigned the roles,” he explains curtly, resuming his actions. “They just created them.”

“Huh?”

Buddy sighs. “It’s like if I asked you, ‘how come Agatha is your mother?’ She just is. You didn’t ask for her to be, but it’s how you were born. It’s not your choice—or anyone else's, for that matter.”

“Soo… they were like, ‘we need a Hero Key,’ and they just created Goldie?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh.”

Buddy swallows. “It’s a little different for me, though.”

Prunella looks up, a tiny crease between her brows. “Different how?”

His eyes flicker to her for a brief second before he quickly averts them downward again. He never thought he would be the one to tell this to Prunella. He assumed Chase would have told her by now—though he never specifically said he could. But he also didn’t say he couldn’t. 

“I was not the real Villain Key,” he says plainly.

Prunella doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches him with interest. “You weren’t?”

“No,” he confirms. “I was his replacement.”

She tilts her head. “Where’s the real one?”

Buddy’s voice is tight when he says, “He’s dead.”

Prunella falls quiet.

“I… I broke him,” Buddy adds after a moment, eyes still downcast. He gently pries a snail from the side of the fairy boutique, careful not to hurt it. He places it down in the grass beside him. 

“...I didn’t know that,” Prunella says.

“I told Chase a while ago. I assumed he would have passed it along to you and Deacon by now,” Buddy says, glancing up at her through black locks. “It—It’s not a secret. Not anymore, at least.”

“When did…?”

“Ten years ago,” Buddy answers. “I was a child, and I was careless. I made a mistake. They punished me by turning me into him.”

“So you were a human?”

“I was.” He nods. “Though I continued to age like a human even after I was… changed.”

“But… what about your parents—?” She cuts herself off as soon as she notices the involuntary twitch in Buddy’s expression. 

“Sorry,” she blurts, face flushing. “Sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry. Never mind.”

Buddy feels a twinge of guilt. She’s just a child. She means no harm . He didn’t mean to make a face. “No, it’s—it’s okay.”

Prunella nibbles on her bottom lip. “Mom says being curious is good, but… sometimes it makes me sound rude. I don’t mean to be.”

Buddy remembers the first day he and his family arrived at the Hidden Toadstool Groove—Agatha had pulled them all aside, apologising in advance for any “insensitive” questions Prunella might ask. Of course, what Agatha didn’t know was that Prunella already knew most of the truth about where they had come from.

He smiles softly. “I don’t think you were being rude. And believe me, I know rude.”

Prunella giggles.

“My family is here,” Buddy says quietly. “In your… strange house. All of them, inside of there, that’s where my family is. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m happy you’re all here,” she tells him, looking up at him with a shy grin. “It was kinda boring for a long time. I didn’t have any friends—other than Chase and Deacon. I like having you guys.”

Buddy blinks at her, still and silent, and for a moment, he’s ten again—just two years older than Prunella, alone and vulnerable, thrust into a life he never asked for.

The keys were his first friends, too. 

He lets out a shaky exhale, lips twitching into a smile as his heart swells. He knew Chase had wormed his way into his heart, but he hadn’t realized Prunella had done the same—slyly sneaking into his affections when he wasn’t paying attention.

Perhaps he truly has found a new family to be a part of, alongside the one he’s been reunited with.

“I—I like being here, too,” he says awkwardly.

Prunella doesn’t say anything else, just grins wider and gets back to work. 

Buddy watches her for a moment, then returns to the task at hand, a quiet warmth spreading through him. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Are you okay?” Chase asks him twenty-four hours later.

Buddy has gone quiet; staring thoughtfully at the water like some sort of a fairytale princess awaiting a prophecy, a prince, or perhaps just a very dramatic breeze.

He looks at Chase, smiling reassuringly. “I’m okay. I’m just thinking.”

He’s in the back garden again—this time with Chase, this time in front of the little manmade pond.

It's a Mrs. G-typical, over-the-top backyard centerpiece: encircled with stones and chunky garden rocks, a few gnomes standing guard. Flat lily pads float scattered lazily on the water’s surface, one with a plastic frog perched permanently in place. A tiny waterfall gurgles from a faux-stone spout, endlessly recycling the same water. 

Buddy finds it oddly calming. 

Above, the moon hangs full and round, its pale glow mirrored in the stillness of the pond, while the reflections of Mrs. G’s twinkling fairy lights scatter like stars across the water’s surface.

Moonlight and starlight mingling delicately together in the ripples.

“Thinking, huh?”

“Yes, Chase. Thinking.”

“That’s cool.” Chase nods. “I think, like… all the time, so.”

Buddy snorts. “Could've fooled me.”

Chase shoves him, and Buddy’s laughter spills into the night like a sweet melody. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chase asks again after a minute of silence. 

“I’m fine,” Buddy says, frowning slightly as he meets his gaze. “Why? Do I not seem it?”

Chase sucks his lips into a thin line before saying, “You just looked a little sad for a second, is all.”

Buddy’s eyes flicker downward, a faint smile on his lips.

He hums. “It’s not relevant.”

Chase scoffs. “Okay, you can’t just say that and expect me to drop it.”

“Can’t I?”

“No."

Buddy doesn’t say anything, and for a second, Chase doesn’t either.

Until he’s shaking Buddy by the arm. “Tell me!” he pries, but Buddy merely chuckles. “Come on, Buddy. If something is making you sad then—I—I need to know what it is so I can eliminate it.”

“I’m not sad, Chase,” Buddy asserts, still smiling weakly in amusement. “Nothing is making me sad.”

Chase bunches his lips to the side, watching him carefully. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me what it is or anything. I just… I’d like to know if there is something. So I can be here, y’know?”

Buddy falls soundless, silently considering Chase’s words in his head. Beside him, Chase bumps their arms together—lightly, gently—patiently awaiting a response.

Eventually, he wets his lips and whispers, “It’s stupid.”

Chase’s brows pinch together sadly. “I’m sure it’s not."

"It is," Buddy claims, scratching the back of his neck—his voice quiet, the words a little muffled behind his arm.

“Okay, well,” Chase says, “if it’s stupid, then tell me.”

“What?”

“If it’s stupid, it won’t matter anyway. So just—tell me.”

Buddy sighs softly through his nostrils, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “It’s—” He pauses, testing the words out in his head before audibly speaking them. “I’m afraid that this will all go away.”

Chase wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Huh?”

"This," Buddy repeats, giving a vague little wave of his hand, gesturing around them. “I’m afraid it’ll be ripped away.”

Chase’s face softens slowly in understanding. “Buddy…”

“I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Chase objects.

Buddy arches a skeptical brow.

“Okay—” Chase relents, “—it’s a little stupid.”

Buddy scoffs, turning half away.

“But only because,” Chase adds, nudging him, “that’s not gonna happen. Never."

Buddy glances sideways at him. “I know,” he mumbles. “But I still can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Then think about something else,” Chase says, as if it’s that simple. “Think about me.” He grins, a joke—light and airy. 

“I think about you all the time,” Buddy replies, unaware of how Chase’s stomach flips at the casual confession. “I think about you, and then I can’t help but wonder… maybe you might...” He pauses with a short sigh. “Disappear.”

Chase frowns. “Why would I disappear, Buds? I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you.”

“I know. It’s—it’s not logical,” he huffs, running a hand down his face. Chase reaches over and gently takes the hand, interlocking their fingers. Buddy gazes quietly at him, cheeks flushing pink. 

“Just because your feelings don’t seem ‘logical’ doesn’t mean they’re any less valid,” Chase says. “You’re—you’re allowed to have anxieties, Buddy. It doesn’t make you… weak.”

“I know,” Buddy says, brushing his thumb against Chase’s skin. “It’s just annoying.”

Chase hums tenderly in understanding. 

Buddy clears his throat, glancing away, but he doesn’t let go of Chase’s hand. 

“You are… you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Chase feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

Buddy goes on, voice softer now, “It’s like I’ve been living on autopilot these past few years—never really… here, not all the way—until you showed up. I think if I lost you, I’d lose myself, too. I don’t know how to be without you anymore. I don’t think I could ever learn.”

Chase loves him so dearly it physically aches.

He squeezes his hand, holding it tighter like an anchor. A human tether. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly. 

“Do you… understand what I’m saying?” Buddy asks, almost tentatively.

Chase nods. “I do.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Buddy whispers.

“Does what scare me?”

“That I can’t—see myself living without you?”

Chase frowns, but there’s a tiny smile on his face. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know.” Buddy shrugs weakly, a quiet, amused exhale escaping his nose. “But I’m glad it doesn’t.”

Chase sits up a bit, swallowing nervously. Buddy’s thumb continues its gentle strokes, the smooth warmth of his hand soothing and steady in Chase’s grasp. The moonlight catches on Buddy’s hair, and for a moment, Chase recalls the last time he saw him under a full moon—dancing, free, and so beautiful.

Now. Now’s the time. 

“Buddy, it—it doesn’t scare me because…”

Buddy watches him expectantly, breathing softly, his face still slightly flushed. 

“Because I—”

“NOX! ”

Are you fucking kidding me. 

Buddy startles, frowning as he looks behind toward the sudden bellow. Chase huffs in frustration, snapping his neck toward the interruption as well.

Copper is hanging out of one of the windows, appearing entirely unapologetic—and almost mischievous —about ruining the vital moment Chase was about to make sure they’d both cherish forever. 

“We need your help,” he says, his voice significantly calmer this time, traveling easily across the quiet garden.

Buddy sighs. “With what? ”

“I don’t feel comfortable shouting it across the garden, but it rhymes with, ‘Schalloy got her head schmuck in Schmose’s schmunderpants.’”

“Alloy got her head stuck in Rose’s what?” Buddy’s eyes narrow. 

“I think you know,” Copper responds. “They’re clean, if it helps.”

“Oh my God,” Buddy groans, pushing himself to his feet as Copper vanishes inside again.

Chase’s eyes trail after him as he stands, staring up at him like a needy puppy. 

“You’re actually helping with that?” he blinks up at him.

Buddy dusts himself off, raising an amused brow at Chase. “You wouldn’t?”

“Absolutely not.” Stay. Stay here with me. Tell me more about how you can’t live without me. Let me tell you I love you. 

“Aw, Chase. You’re telling me you wouldn’t help a dear family member in their hour of need?”

Chase splutters. “Not when their need is me pulling a pair of boxers off their head.”

Buddy chuckles. “It’s getting late anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chase grimaces, puffing out a dramatic sigh of resignation as he gets to his feet. 

“Goodnight.” Buddy leans in, gently taking Chase by the chin and pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his forehead. Chase’s eyelids flutter shut, savoring the small moment of intimacy.

I love you.

“I love you,” Buddy murmurs against his skin.

Chase freezes, umber eyes shooting open. 

Did he do that thing where he thought said ‘I love you,’ in his head but he actually said it out loud?

No. No, he couldn’t have. That doesn’t happen in real life. Only in corny movies. And that one awful Alistair x Reader fanfiction he read once. 

Every muscle in his body seems to stiffen all at once. 

Buddy, however, doesn’t appear to notice. He simply steps back, gives him one last warm, fond smile and strolls back to the B&B. 

He leaves Chase by the pond, unmoving. Rigid like a statue. Speechless. 

Did that just happen? Did Buddy just say I love you and walk away like it was nothing? Of course he did. Of course, that’s actually what he did. Buddy would drop a bomb like that and just walk off to help his sister get his brother’s underpants off her head—

“What is wrong with him?” Chase whispers to himself in disbelief under his breath.

His eyes pass over a garden gnome propped on a rock beside the pond, its face frozen in a happy, toothy smile with bright pink cheeks.

“What is wrong with him?” he asks it.

Oddly enough, it doesn’t reply.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“And then he just left!”

Danielle purses her lips, clearly holding back a smile. Simon is less restrained, letting a proper laugh bubble up and out of his throat. Ross is working, but if he were here, Chase knows he’d probably laugh too, and that thought alone only serves to irritate him further.

Chase scowls. “This isn’t funny, guys.”

“Oh, come on,” Simon laughs. “Dude, you’re sitting here complaining that the boyfriend you’ve been hopelessly pining after loves you. What do you want us to do? Tell you we’re so sorry this is happening to you?"

“That’s not at all what I’m saying!”

“Sure sounds it.”

“I think what Chase is trying to express,” Danielle says diplomatically, “is that Nox said ‘I love you,’ very… brazenly—”

“Exactly, thank you!”

“—and now Chase is annoyed because he beat him to it.”

“Okay, that’s not—”

Simon snorts. “That’s exactly it, Dani, you’re right.”

“No—”

“You wanted to be the one to say it first, but you kept lollygagging around instead of just spitting it out, so Nox beat you to it—and now you’re sulking about it for no reason, and you know it,” Simon finishes.

“It’s not a competition! ” Chase exclaims, drawing a couple dirty looks from the other patrons in the diner.

“Yes, we know that,” Simon agrees, smirking. “Do you know that?”

Chase huffs, slumping dramatically back in the booth, though it’s obvious he’s not actually mad. “You guys are so mean.”

“Chase,” Danielle says, giggling. “We just don’t get what you’re so worked up about. He loves you and you love him! It’s a good thing.”

“Of course it’s a good thing. It’s a very, very good thing,” Chase proclaims, leaning forward again. “It’s like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Then what’s the issue, man?” Simon presses, palms turning toward the ceiling for a second in exasperation. 

Chase grumbles. “I don’t know.”

Simon sighs, grinning. “Look, when was this? Last night? Have you spoken to him since?”

“No,” Chase answers immediately, arms crossed. “I’m mad at him. I don’t want to.”

Danielle and Simon exchange an amused look.

“Yeah, I hate it when the person I’m infatuated with tells me they’re in love with me,” Simon drawls sarcastically. “Makes me so mad.”

“You don’t get it!” Chase hisses. 

“No. We don’t,” Danielle concurs, and she’s still smiling like it’s funny.

“And we won’t ever get it because it’s stupid,” Simon adds.

Chase throws his hands up in exaggerated frustration. “You know what? I don’t need this. I don’t know why I even called you guys. I should’ve just gone to Silver. She gets me.”

Simon and Danielle roll their eyes without much conviction. 

“Go home and talk to him, Chase,” Danielle says. “You’re being silly.”

“‘Silly,’ is generous—”

“Simon,” Danielle cuts him off with a look, though her lips are twitching and there’s clear amusement swimming in her dark eyes.

Chase grits his teeth. 

Simon lifts his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Well, what? ”

“What are you gonna do?”

Chase huffs. “Go home.”

“And?” Danielle pushes.

“...Talk to Nox.”

Simon and Danielle erupt into exaggerated applause. Danielle even starts clapping softly, grinning wide.

“Yaaay, emotional maturity!” she teases in a sing-song voice.

Simon nods. “Proud of you, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Chase mutters before slurping loudly from his milkshake.

His two friends snicker quietly across the table just as a ping cuts through the air, Simon’s phone vibrating where it lies face-down on the table.

Simon reaches out and checks it. “Okay, we gotta go,” he says, flicking his eyes back up to Chase.

Chase releases the straw from his mouth, frowning. “What? Where?”

Danielle slings her bag over her shoulder. “We’re catching a movie.”

“Wh—And what, you forgot to invite me?”

Simon slides out of the booth, hands digging into his pockets as Danielle follows. “Wanna come?” he offers breezily.

“Not anymore.” 

Simon just shrugs. “‘Kay.”

“Bronze invited us,” Danielle explains, and Chase splutters. 

“I’m sorry, who invited you?” He blinks wildly.

Simon snorts. “Bronze. One of the guys you found in that cult. Remember?”

Oh, Chase remembers. Chase remembers .

His jaw hangs open silently for a second as he stares up at Simon and Danielle in shock. “You’re going to the movies with Bronze? ”

“Yeah.” Simon shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his unzipped hoodie, arms straight and angled outward, hoodie bunching awkwardly. Then he drops them and shrugs. “Catch you later, Chase.”

“Dude!” Chase flounders. “Since when are you guys buddies with Bronze?!”

Danielle shrugs. “He gave us his email.”

Chase groans, head lolling back. “I should’ve never taught him how to use that computer.”

“You can come if you want, but he didn’t invite you, so… he might be a bit peeved,” Simon says.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that , would we?” Chase sneers. 

Simon looks around. “...Well, no, not really.” 

“Whatever.” Chase rolls his eyes. “One crisis at a time. I’m going home once I finish this shake.” He takes another long gulp.

Danielle offers a warm, reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Chase. Just remember: communication is key.”

He nods, reluctant. “I know.”

“Let us know how it goes, okay?” she calls, backing toward the door. “Text us later!”

“No need—Bronze’ll email us the full story, probably,” Simon adds with a wink just before Danielle shoves his arm playfully. “See ya, Chase.”

Chase glares after them as they leave—but there’s no real malice behind it.

He turns his attention back to his milkshake with a sigh, absentmindedly stirring the slushy liquid with his straw—his eyes lingering just a tad too long on the little chocolate flakes nestled in the cream. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The sun is just barely peeking through the clouds when Chase arrives home. 

Gravel crunches noisily under his shoes as he makes a beeline for the Hidden Toadstool Groove, breezing past the farmhouse like he doesn’t even live there. 

You got this, Chasey.

He runs a hand through his hair, fingers moving easily through silky golden locks. 

Dani is right—communication is key. Just tell him what you’re thinking. 

The familiar, welcoming shape of Mrs. G’s B&B comes into view, and Chase instantly stiffens at the unexpected, but unmistakable silhouette of Buddy sitting on the porch with Silver. His steps falter for a moment, pace slowing, but he exhales sharply and pushes himself forward.

As he draws closer, the scene comes more clearly into focus—Buddy is leaning casually against the picket fence, while Silver sits across from him on the steps, body twisted to face him, their feet just barely touching.

Then, Chase’s eyes drop to the sketchpad in Silver’s lap.

Silver is drawing Buddy. 

He stops a couple of feet away, blinking curiously. He shifts his attention to Buddy—who is, of course, already looking up at him with that familiar, fond expression.

“Hello,” Buddy says simply.

Chase clears his throat with far too much sass. “Hello.”

Buddy blinks at him, clearly having caught wind of his attitude, but seeming to only be entertained by it. 

“Hello, Chase,” Silver greets without looking up. Her focus remains fixed on the sketch before her, pencil gliding with practiced ease in her hand.

“I thought you were gone with Bronze and Goldie to the movies,” Buddy muses.

Chase’s eye twitches. “Goldie went with him?”

“Yes?”

One crisis at a time.

He breathes out slowly.

Buddy frowns. “Are you feeling alright?”

Chase stares blankly at him. “Yes. I’m—fine.”

His tone clearly says otherwise, because Silver pauses immediately, the soft scratch of graphite against rough paper falling silent. She turns, angling her neck to look up at him. She doesn’t speak; she just watches him, her eyes sheened with quiet concern.

He can’t really say anything with Silver here, and he’d never tell her to leave. 

Chase clears his throat. “What, uh… what are you guys up to?”

Silver turns back around, exchanging a brief look with Buddy. “Nox is allowing me to sketch him,” she answers chirpily, resuming her pencil’s movements against the paper.

“Oh,” Chase says. He cranes his neck around to catch a glimpse, but Silver quickly presses the sketchpad to her chest, hiding it from him. He blinks at her in confusion. “What? Why can’t I see?”

“Not until it’s finished!” she insists with finality, pointing the pencil at him like a warning. 

Chase backs away from her, holding his hands up in surrender. “Oookay. Fine. Whatever.” 

“She’s very particular about this sort of thing,” Buddy remarks, his tone light. 

“How come you never draw me, Sil?” Chase inquires.

“You’re unable to sit still for long enough,” she answers, and Buddy snickers. Chase only grumbles incoherently in response.

“I’m her favourite muse,” Buddy states smugly.

“Favourite male muse, for certain,” Silver corrects. “Violet is my favourite to draw.”

Buddy hums. “I’ll take it.”

Chase tilts his head, curious. “Do you often draw Buddy?” 

Silver nods as she works.“Mhm! Even when we were ke—” She cuts herself off, casting a cautious glance toward the B&B. Lowering her voice, she continues, “Even when we were younger, I used to draw him a lot.”

Chase smiles. The reminder of Silver and Buddy spending time together, years before he knew either of them, warms his heart. He’s so glad they had each other down there. Not even just Silver and Buddy—all of them.

Maybe now isn’t the best time. 

“Well, I’ll—I’ll leave you to it, then,” he breathes, taking a little step back.

Buddy furrows his brows. “Where are you going?”

“Um. Home?”

“Why?”

Chase exhales a tiny laugh. “You guys are busy, I don’t wanna—”

“Busy? We’re not busy. We haven’t been busy for two months,” Buddy says.

“Yes, stay, Chase,” Silver says, glancing up at him for half a second before her eyes tear back to the page like a magnet. 

“I just—” Chase sighs. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I’ll just come back later—”

Buddy looks concerned now. “Why didn’t you just say so? We can talk now—”

“No, it’s—it’s okay,” Chase insists, shaking his head, but Silver is already folding her sketchpad closed. 

“It’s alright, Chase,” she says to him as she stands. There’s a knowing glint in her eye when she tells him, “I’ll let you two talk. I’m practically finished with the drawing, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chase lifts his brows. “Show it to me, then.”

Silver purses her lips, hugging the sketchpad to her chest. “...No.”

“Liar,” he accuses. 

“I am finished! It—It just needs some final touches, is all!”

“What ever ,” Chase scoffs as she scurries off inside as if he’s about to rip the sketchpad from her hands and sneak a peek at a, god forbid, unfinished sketch of Buddy.

Once the door clicks shut behind her, Chase finds himself alone with Buddy once again. 

“What is it?” Buddy asks immediately, wasting zero time. 

Chase hesitates, then slowly moves over and settles beside him. A gentle breeze stirs the grass as they sit in tense silence, Chase turning the words over and over in his head before he dares speak them.

“...Should I be worried?” Buddy asks again when Chase still doesn’t say anything.

“No,” he says quickly. “No, it’s not—it’s nothing bad.”

Buddy visibly relaxes, and Chase feels a sharp stab of guilt for making him think something was seriously wrong. Because nothing is wrong, really. Everything is perfectly right. Buddy loves him. 

…It’s more of a petty grievance than anything,

Chase swallows a lump in his throat, straightening his posture. “Yesterday, you said something to me,” he starts rather vaguely. Buddy frowns, his silence prompting Chase to continue. “You—you said that you loved me.”

Buddy’s expression remains—still frowning, still confused, and mildly concerned. “I… did,” he confirms with a slow nod.

Chase widens his eyes, giving him a look that clearly says, ‘You’re supposed to be catching onto something very obvious right now.’

But when Buddy just blinks cluelessly, Chase huffs loudly. “You can’t just—say that!”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Buddy is looking at him like he’s crazy.

Like he’s crazy. Him! Chase!

“You can’t just say you—you love me and walk away like it’s nothing!” Chase exclaims, a light pink dusting falling over his cheeks as the words leave his mouth.

Buddy snorts suddenly. “Why not?”

“Because! ” Chase stares at him with wild, unbelieving eyes. “I was going to tell you that first!”

“Well… too bad?”

“This is so—” He grunts. “Take it back,” he says abruptly.

Buddy laughs. “What? ”

“Take it back,” Chase repeats.

“Take it back?”

“Yes! Take it back! We—we have to do it again,” Chase asserts. “Let me say it this time, just—”

“Chase,” Buddy stops him softly, an amused smile plastered on his lovely face. “I’m not taking anything back. I love you, and that’s that.”

Chase blinks at him. He can’t keep sitting here, pretending his heart isn’t threatening to burst from his chest. He can’t go on acting like the love he holds for the boy in front of him isn’t consuming him whole.

“I love you too,” he breathes. The relief is so sharp, so sudden, he could weep.

Like the first drop of rain after a drought, like breaking the surface being underwater for too long, like sunlight finally breaking through a storm clouded sky, all Chase feels is pure relief. 

Buddy is smiling at him, blushy and genuine, and Chase is overwound with love. It coils in his chest, too much to contain. He surges forward before he can stop himself, and Buddy meets him halfway. They fall into each other in a perfectly-fitted hug, their bodies slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw. 

Chase inhales his scent, tethering himself in it, like it’s the only real thing in the world. His hands clutch at Buddy’s back, desperate to keep him close. Buddy’s hand cradles the back of Chase’s head, fingers threading gently through his golden hair in soothing, repetitive motions.

“What was that all about?” Buddy queries after a wonderful eternity of intimate silence. 

“Hm?” Chase hums into his shoulder.

“Were you actually annoyed that I said it first?”

Chase sighs heavily. “Shut up.”

Buddy giggles, his body shaking slightly in Chase’s hold, and he welcomes it entirely. 

“I thought I had already wordlessly said it beforehand, anyway,” Buddy muses.

Chase pulls back to look at him, frowning. “What? When?”

“I asked you if you understood what I was saying, and you said you did,” Buddy explains with a crooked smile. “That was—I was trying to tell you I loved you then.”

Chase blinks, lips parting. “How the hell was I supposed to know that?” He splutters. “You—you—I’m not a mind reader! ”

“I thought it was fairly obvious what I was implying!”

“Well, it wasn’t!”

Buddy rolls his eyes, sliding his hands down to Chase’s waist absentmindedly.“You’re just too simple-minded to read between the lines.”

“Don’t insult me when you have your hands on my waist.” Chase glares. 

Buddy hums, catching his lips in a fleeting kiss, and Chase feels any remaining tension in his body melt away in an instant.

“I love you,” Chase murmurs between each kiss.

“I love you,” Buddy replies each and every time, smiling against his lips.

“...But I’m still a little ticked off, you know,” Chase says when Buddy breaks away, pressing a final, firm kiss between his brows. 

“Are you?” Buddy says dryly.

“Yes. I had this whole speech planned and everything. I was going to make it a whole romantic thing, and you just went and said it after leaving me to go help your sister get underwear off her head.”

Buddy merely shrugs, but Chase isn’t ticked off at all—not really. He truly never was. How could he be?

They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, Chase leaning almost his entire body weight onto Buddy, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’d be more upset if Chase pulled away. 

Fluttering his eyes closed, lashes brushing against Buddy’s sweater, Chase lets out a content, blissful sigh. 

And then, just because he can, “I love you.”

He feels the steady thrum of Buddy’s heartbeat beneath his ear stutter just slightly, and it makes him smile.

“I love you too.”

The words settle between them like a promise, and Chase stays there, nestled against Buddy, letting the world outside fade away until it’s just the two of them, and the soft certainty that everything is exactly as it should be.