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It had been a long day.
It had been a really long day in what was already a long week, and it was only Thursday.
A comment from Aunt Beth the previous weekend was still on Chase’s mind. Something about how he shouldn't be slacking off all summer, or whatever, and the usual frustration over not being able to explain that he HAD a job. Kind of. A frustration that he felt he should be used to, but still managed to get under his skin. Another phone call with his mother cut off too early the day before and he couldn't call her back that morning because she had a treatment that would wipe her out for the day. He definitely wanted her to rest, and he knew if he called her that she might try to insist she could stay up to talk even when she couldn’t.
Nothing in particular had even really happened that day, but it felt long nonetheless, and before Chase knew it he was laying in his bed as the last glimmer of dusk showed through his windows. Chase had been laying there long enough that he hadn’t needed to turn on a light when he laid down, leaving his room increasingly dim and moonlit as the time ticked past. He didn’t feel tired enough to sleep, but he didn’t have the energy for anything else.
Chase and Deacon had been able to do a book that day, at least. But something went so haywire—which definitely was not Chase’s fault, because, really? Who makes the door to a big secret room the heroine wasn’t supposed to go into that early be that easy to open? Chase couldn’t be blamed, and the guard that saw him because Chase opened the door at the wrong time in the guard rotation should have been more chill about it.
Regardless.
They completed the book, but it was such a stressful experience that the narratonin gained was only worth the effort by the fact that it was better than gaining none.
Chase sighed and rolled onto his side, picking up his phone for the first time in nearly an hour. It was nearly 9pm, and he was sure Grandpa Ralph was in bed. Deacon was probably still awake, but he was also probably six chapters deep into some grocery store romance novel and wouldn’t want to be bothered.
As Chase lay there wondering what he could possibly do to drag himself out of that fog before he was lost in it for the entire evening, he recalled something. The book had crossed his mind before—in fond memories, mostly. Once or twice the thought had crossed his mind since learning about the keys, but it never stuck around long enough to consider an option to enter with a key. It was a book his parents had read with him as a child and one that he had loved back then, but much too simple to be worth bringing up when he and Deacon discussed potential stories. There’s no way Deacon would have agreed to it.
But the illustrations were nice and the story was cute, and Chase remembered it fondly. More importantly, he remembered the plot. Plus, Chase had loved getting to see a hero that saved the day by being distracted and loud and not quite following instructions perfectly. Chase could really relate as a kid.
Considering his track record in books so far, he could still relate.
…Surely he still had his old copy somewhere around the house, right?
He rolled out of bed and carefully pulled down the ladder to the tower. If it was anywhere, it was probably buried in a box up there. There was one specific scene that he always thought would be so nice to wander around—the bright berries and flowers and glistening water of the lake. The only concern was the cat, who tries to sneak up on the other ducklings and to snatch one.
But…the cat is the villain.
Villainess, rather.
Chase didn’t think Buddy would be too hard to convince.
He climbed up the ladder into the tower, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that the keys were awake and he wasn’t bothering them. Chase smiled.
“Oh, hello Chase!” Silver chirped from across the room. “Do you need something? It is rather late for you to be up here.”
“Ah, um—” Chase pursed his lips then sighed. “I…I’m looking for a book. I can’t sleep, and I just—I thought I might as well—” Chase trailed off, but Silver nodded at him with a kind smile and started to walk across the room to meet him.
“I understand. What is the book?” she asked.
Chase looked away for a second, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “Oh, uh, it’s…kind of a little kid book?” Chase loosely glared in the direction of Bronze, who had just snorted at it. Bronze raised an eyebrow jokingly, then shrugged as if to say I’m not judging. Chase pulled himself the rest of the way into the tower so that he was sitting on the floor with his legs hanging through the hatch.
“It’s just—it’s a book my parents used to read to me,” he explained, voice softening at the memory. “It’s been a rough week and I just thought…I guess…”
Silver nodded again, understanding crossing her face. “You thought it might be a source of comfort?”
“Yeah. Something like that,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. Silver smiled back at him. “And…I haven’t read it in years, but I think it might be up here somewhere.” Chase glanced between Silver, Bronze, and Goldie—who had just emerged from behind a box with a piece of paper twice as long as he was tall in tow. Chase decided not to ask about it. “Would I be bothering any of you if I dig around for it?”
“Not at all!”
“Would not bother me.”
“Of course not, Chase.”
Chase smiled at the trio and stood up. “Thanks.”
It took about 20 minutes of searching and—much to Chase’s surprise and relief—he found it buried in the sixth box he tried. It was in better condition than he thought it would be, and the crudely written Chase Hollow on the “This book belongs to” line made him laugh. It was in bright red crayon and missing an L in his last name. He assumed his parents must have thought it was cute enough not to correct that time.
“Oh, wonderful!” Silver cheered when she noticed Chase with the book on his lap, flipping through it fondly.. “I assume that is what you were looking for, correct?”
Her voice shook Chase out of his nostalgic haze and he cleared his throat. “Wha—Oh. Yeah, this is it,” he replied, holding up the book enough for her to see the cover. A watercolor illustration of a cheerful, yellow duckling could be seen prancing in front of bushes covered in bright berries and flowers, while a sneaky cat crouched behind the grass watching her. Overlayed was the navy blue text: Quick, Quack, Quick! Chase remembered the story like the back of his hand.
With another fond look at one of the illustrations, and the faintest memory of his dad’s voice reading out the text, again and again, Chase glanced back over at Silver. “Would you mind if I go into this book for a bit? I’m not going to do the whole thing.” He pushed himself up off the floor and walked over to the desk to find one of the bookmarks they had laying around. “I just want to skip to this one part I liked a lot as a kid.”
“Of course. That is no problem, Chase,” Silver said. “Would you like to go in now?”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind?” Chase asked, leaning down to let Silver climb onto his hand. He placed her on the desk and Silver nodded wordlessly, then with a small poof she had turned into a key. Chase flipped to the page he was looking for and slid the bookmark into place—a page where Quack the duckling shouts into a log before going to the pond—then disappeared into the book with a flash of light.
Before Chase’s eyes had even started to focus, he was stumbling off the side of the log that Quack was standing on top of on the page he had placed the bookmark. “W-whoa!” He just managed to catch his balance with a heavy thud against the grass without actually falling, instead taking a few stomps forward until he steadied himself. For a duckling, that log was plenty wide enough to frolic on top of. For Chase…not so much.
Once he found his footing again, Chase looked around. In front of him was a field stretching far and away from the farm behind him—where the family of ducks had traveled from. The grass seemed soft and wispy, stretching out tall and unburdened as the wind rolled across it in waves. Wild berries and flowers dotted the landscape adding tiny dots of color to contrast the green. A small pond was nearby, not far from where he was standing. It was pale blue and glistening under the sun, surrounded by tall grasses and cattails and berries and flowers.
In between Chase and the pond, he could see a small family of ducks waddling toward the pond. A mother and three ducklings. The mother duck was calling back toward him, and for the first time it properly registered that Chase was, in fact, a duckling at that moment. He laughed at the thought, then glanced down to his outfit. It was less formal than Silver’s usual designs, obviously leaning more toward comfort than fashion, and Chase silently thanked her for the consideration. She did still make it bright yellow and quite soft, to match the duckling aesthetic. He chuckled at the fluffy texture his shirt had, like a subtle nod toward duck feathers without being too bulky. Chase ran his hands along the texture.
The second thing Chase registered was that Buddy was definitely already hiding somewhere. At least, Chase assumed he must have been by then. The cat in the book was tucked away in the background of nearly every illustration as she slowly followed the family of ducks to the pond.
Then again…there weren’t all that many spaces in a mostly-open field for a person to hide the way a small cat could. Chase furrowed his brow and and turned around toward the farm—
“Boo,” Buddy deadpanned the second Chase made eye contact with him. Buddy was much closer than Chase would have anticipated—assuming he had any idea Buddy had snuck up behind him in the first place—and the proximity startled him into jumping backwards, his heel knocking into the log he had just stumbled off of. He fell back with a shout, tripping over the log and tumbling to the ground behind it.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, maneuvering his legs off of the log so he could sit up. “What the heck, Buddy?”
Buddy laughed lightly, biting back a small yawn as he did. “Please, I barely caused any of that mess,” he retorted with a smirk. Chase glared up at him as he dusted off his pants and after a moment Buddy dismissed his own bravado. “Fine. Here,” he huffed, extending a hand toward Chase. Chase narrowed his gaze further, looking skeptically between Buddy’s eyes and his hand, before finally taking Buddy’s hand and pulling himself up from the ground.
“Thanks,” Chase grumbled. On his feet again, he roughly dusted the dirt from his pants and huffed. “Was that really necessary, dude?”
Buddy cleared his throat. “Ah, um. In my defence, I did not think you'd actually… fall, like that.” Chase’s glare didn't change and Buddy sighed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Sorry,” he muttered.
Chase let his glare linger another moment, then relaxed with a short, satisfied hum. Without another word, Chase turned and started walking toward the pond with wide strides.
After a moment to register the action, Buddy took a few quick steps to catch up. “H-hey!” he shouted ahead. Chase’s head turned slightly at the sound without actually looking or slowing down. After a second, Buddy fell into step with Chase, following him toward the pond. “I know you pick a lot of simple books, but I’ll admit, I didn't expect that to delve into a preschool reading level,” Buddy chided with a sarcastic laugh. “What? Did you need something simpler after the last book went entirely off the rails?”
“Whatever, Buddy.”
“Hm. Who's fault was that, again?”
Chase scowled and stopped walking, turning to face Buddy. At that distance, Chase could see how tired Buddy’s eyes seemed, but he was too annoyed to register the thought. “You know your character is supposed to be hiding in the distance until the end of the story, right?” Chase murmured with a huff. “If you're just going to be mean, follow your own rule about sticking to the plot or something.” Chase started walking again without waiting for a response.
The blatant dismissal gave Buddy pause, enough to stay stopped for a second or two after Chase had started walking away. That was…not like Chase. Most of the time, anyway. Not for a while.
Buddy shook his head, then jogged a few steps to catch up again. Chase didn't look at him, but didn't comment on his presence. The pair walked in silence for a minute. They caught up with the family of ducks—who nervously scurried in the opposite direction as the “cat” passed so close by., and Buddy wondered why the atmosphere felt so…off. Or why Chase seemed so off.
As they approached the waters edge, Chase found another log—wider this time—and sat down with a thud. He took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped on the exhale, then he propped his elbow against his knee and leaned his head onto his hand.
Buddy stopped several feet behind the log. There was enough room for him to sit down if he wanted to, but he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to.
Or, well, if Chase wanted him to.
Or either, really.
“Hm—” Buddy started. The sound earned him a small tilt of Chase’s head to signal that Chase was listening, but no other reaction. “...Chase?”
Chase hummed—an indication for Buddy to continue—and Buddy immediately realized how out of his depth he was about to be. He pressed on.
“Are you…alright?” Buddy asked—tentatively like he had to think over each word.
Chase turned his head toward Buddy and debated how he wanted to respond. He let them both sink into the ambient sounds of the water lapping at the edge of the pond, the distant birds and farm animals, the family of ducks finally returning to the other side of the pond (with as wary of an expression toward Buddy as a duck was able to express). A dragonfly buzzed past. Then another, chasing the first. Chase shuffled his feet along the grass in front of him, causing the log to creak slightly with the movement and the grass to rustle lightly underneath his shoes.
He looked out over the pond—eyes unfocused—moving from the ripples in the water, to the swaying cattails, to the bugs and birds darting around, to the distant berries and flowers bobbing in the breeze. He took a deep breath while Buddy waited on a reply. Eventually Chase just settled on no more than a shrug. “You can sit down, if you want.”
“O-okay.” Buddy took the last few steps forward and sat down on the other end of the log, far enough to not feel like he was crowding Chase. He folded his hands on his lap and wondered what to say next, if anything at all. Maybe Chase didn't want to talk. He certainly didn't seem like he did.
Regardless, Buddy realized one thing he should say. “Uh—I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Chase glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye, making eye contact for the first time in several minutes. Chase raised an eyebrow, so Buddy continued. “For, um…being mean , as you said.”
Chase mouthed an Oh . “It's fine,” he mumbled. Chase shrugged again and turned his eyes back to the pond. Buddy took the hint. Instead of responding further, he followed Chase’s line of sight across the pond to properly take in the scenery for the first time. It really was a beautiful landscape—preschool book or not. Buddy supposed maybe the fact that it was a story meant for young children who were learning to read meant there was more care put into that sort of thing. He liked to imagine that was the case.
Buddy was once again left with the feeling of not knowing what he should say or if he should say anything. Chase was significantly muted from his normal, brighter demeanor and Buddy wasn't sure what to do to help that.
He…hadn't realized how much he'd miss something like that—or how much he’d want to help in some way—until he was confronted with the sight of a quiet Chase. After another moment, he settled on saying nothing. Maybe it would be for the best to just let Chase sit with his emotions for a bit. He had come into a simple book and still skipped ahead, after all. Maybe what he wanted was quiet. Buddy could do that. With a quick glance at Chase—which went entirely unnoticed—Buddy focused his eyes on the ripples of the pond; the way they wobbled across the surface of the water and warped when the breeze picked up before settling back into their previous rhythm. The pond didn't seem very deep—at least not near the edges—and the sunlight hit the dirt beneath its surface, reflecting a warm tan and illuminating the fish and bugs and plants that wavered beneath the currents. Buddy followed a tadpole with his eyes as it zipped around between the reeds peeking out of the water's surface—back and forth and zigzagging as it searched for food. It disappeared and reappeared from view, and Buddy’s eyelids started to droop as he watched it, when—
“I’m just tired, that's all,” Chase mumbled without looking over, breaking the silence for the first time in nearly ten minutes. Had his voice been any louder, Buddy might have noticeably jumped instead of the miniscule startle felt only in his chest. He looked at Chase with widened eyes, inviting him to continue. Chase didn't.
“It is…late,” Buddy observed. “For you, I assume—ah, from the sound of it,” he corrected, hoping to play off the implication that it was nighttime at that moment where he was in the real world. Chase either didn't notice the slip-up, or didn't care enough to mention it.
“Yeah. Can't sleep.”
“Ah.”
Chase pursed his lips as he realized something. “Were you…I don't know what time it is for you. I hope I didn't wake you up,” he said, sincerely.
“It’s, uh—you didn't,” Buddy replied. Chase had, actually, but Buddy didn't feel like he should be adding anymore weight to whatever Chase was currently carrying. “Don't worry.”
Chase nodded. He wasn’t sure he believed Buddy, but didn’t have the energy to bother pushing the non-issue. He glanced toward Buddy and wasn’t quite sure what to make of his expression—maybe concerned? Some small part of Chase almost hoped that was right. “That’s good,” he said under his breath. Buddy hummed in response and they fell back into silence for a moment before Chase spoke again.
“You also—well maybe you can’t actually, I don’t know, but—you can leave. If you want to. I’m not here to do the story,” Chase admitted. “I’m not…here to do anything, really.” He shifted his position and laced his fingers together on his lap. “I’m just—there’s no real reason for you to stay, if you…if you don’t have to or don’t want to or whatever.”
“It’s fine,” Buddy replied. “I—uh, mean…” Buddy cleared his throat. “I can go if, uh, you want me to.” He furrowed his brow. “I—well, I can’t leave entirely. I can go somewhere else until you, uh—do,” he clarified. “If you want.” Buddy caught another glance at Chase, who just shrugged. He looked over Chase and realized that he seemed as tired as he sounded. His shoulders were rounded forward as he moved to rest his head against the opposite hand as before. Chase’s other arm was loosely resting on his lap, and his foot idly tapped the grass underneath it. His eyes were fixed in place with a furrowed brow, but Buddy could tell he wasn’t actually looking at anything in particular. Just, away.
Buddy wasn’t sure what compelled him to stay where he was, but something about Chase’s demeanor kept him there. Something about it said Chase didn’t actually want to be alone, he just didn’t want Buddy to think he needed to stay. Buddy felt something clench in his chest at the thought, and he couldn’t quite place the emotions behind it. Sympathy, for one. A subtle frown had planted itself on Chase’s face and Buddy’s expression softened at the sight.
“You can talk about it—” Buddy started, and Chase turned his head just enough to make eye contact. “—if you want.” Chase pursed his lips and Buddy added: “Ah, or if you can, I suppose. I—uh. Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s fine,” Chase replied as a reflex, though he didn’t really know what he was forgiving or what Buddy was apologizing for.
“You don’t have to though,” Buddy continued. “Talk about it, I mean.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you alright?” Buddy repeated. He internally winced at how dumb of a question that was. “No, uh—obviously you aren’t. Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, you know,” Chase said, and the huff of air behind it almost felt like a laugh.
“Sor—No. Ah. I just—Okay,” Buddy babbled, and that time he knew he heard a small laugh from Chase. He felt a small swell of accomplishment at the sound and fought the small smile that threatened to surface.
Suddenly, Chase let out a long sigh. “I can’t…talk about much.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s just—” Chase bit his cheek, looking for the right words that wouldn’t give anything away. He sighed again—shorter that time—and slumped forward further. “Family …things. I—yeah.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“That…book earlier probably didn’t help either, then,” Buddy stated hesitantly. Chase groaned.
“No, Buddy, it didn’t. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in,” he said, looking at Buddy with a scowl.
Buddy held his hands up in front of him. “N-no! I—That’s not what I meant, I just—” He floundered to find the right phrasing and Chase’s expression softened. “I was just—I don’t know. Ah, making conversation? I think.”
Chase blinked at him, then chuckled. “I see.” He sat upright again, letting his hand fall loosely to his lap with the other one. “I appreciate it,” he said sincerely, then added, “Dummy.” Buddy shot Chase a dull glare and Chase shrugged innocently with a tired smile. He leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “Kidding.”
The conversation tapered off again and Buddy felt a bit more comfortable to let it happen that time. Chase certainly wasn’t himself yet, but he didn’t seem so…blank? Exhausted? No, he was definitely still exhausted.
Muted. That was the word Buddy had thought of earlier. He seemed less muted.
“I know I poked fun at the book before, but this is a very…picturesque scene. It’s nice,” Buddy conceded.
Chase hummed without looking toward Buddy. “It is.”
“It’s a nice place to just breathe for a minute. Which I assume is your goal here,” Buddy said, kicking himself for how stilted he sounded.
Chase, however, didn’t seem to mind and just nodded. He leaned back slightly, resting his hands against the log to attempt to prop himself up. When he realized the log wasn’t wide enough to comfortably do that, he pursed his lips and slid forward, landing in the grass with a gentle thump before leaning back against the log. He ran his fingers through the grass like it was soft fur. Buddy watched the abrupt shift with subtle surprise until Chase had settled onto the ground. A small smile eased its way onto his face at the way Chase closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly—feeling the breeze on his face while he fidgeted with the grass and easily looking the most content he had that entire time.
“That’s not the only reason,” Chase said, barely more than a whisper. “It’s—” He cut himself off, running through the anecdote to see if there was any possible way he would say something he shouldn’t by elaborating. Buddy watched him patiently from where he remained on the log as Chase pursed his lips and tapped his fingers against the dirt. “It’s a book I loved as a kid,” he settled on.
Buddy laughed. “And here I thought you didn’t love any books,” he said in as lighthearted of a tone as he could possibly manage. Chase tilted his head back to make eye contact and scrunched his face.
“Oh, stuff it,” he huffed. His expression softened again and he kept his head tilted back, eyes shifting to look up at the sky instead. “My…” He paused for a moment. “My parents used to read it to me a lot. And they—I just really like it,” he said, trailing off.
“I can understand that, then,” Buddy said.
“I just…miss that sometimes,” Chase whispered, wiping a quick hand across his eyes. I miss them, like that, in those moments, went unsaid.
“Mm.”
Chase laughed lightly, blinking away whatever had threatened to show itself. “It’s hard to explain without…being able to explain anything.”
Buddy winced. “I’m sor—Ah. Yes. It is,” he agreed. Chase waved a hand at him, glancing over to make eye contact again.
“Not like it’s your fault,” Chase stated, like it was a simple truth, and the implication that Chase didn’t see Buddy as a blatant enemy anymore—someone to blame for everything about the situation—was not lost on Buddy.
Then again…he supposed if Chase did see him as such, they wouldn’t be sitting there in the quiet comfort of a beloved scene from Chase’s childhood book together. Chase surely would have taken Buddy up on the offer to leave him alone earlier without a second thought. That, and the context where they were, hit Buddy all at once and settled somewhere in his chest to be examined later. Instead he chose to sit in that quiet comfort like he belonged there, just that once.
“I just—I don’t know,” Chase said. “It’s been a rough week—it’s been a rough day— and the only thing I can even tell you about is the book you already know about, but—Yeah. I don’t know.”
“You came here for comfort.”
“Mhm.”
Buddy took another look around at the scenery, then back to Chase. “It is comforting.”
“It is. I always liked this scene because I thought the art was pretty. And…earlier I just needed to be… somewhere other than my room, I guess. Then I got the idea that hey, if I could find this book, maybe I could see this scene in person and maybe that would help, and—” Chase cut himself off, then sighed. “Yeah.”
“Has it helped?”
Chase thought for a moment. He looked around the prairie and the pond in front of him. He glanced back at Buddy and looked away just as quickly before the soft smile became visible across his face at the sight. “A bit,” he replied.
Buddy swore he heard a smile on Chase’s voice, but still felt the need to respond: “Sorry if I’ve intruded.”
“You haven’t.”
It was said so plainly that Buddy almost faltered. “O-oh. I’m glad to hear that, then.”
“Mm.” Chase slid down slightly until he was closer to reclining against the log than sitting against it, settling further into the soft grass. Buddy watched Chase from the corner of his eye and laughed lightly as Chase wiggled himself into a more comfortable position, then sighed contently when he found it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Chase was trying to fall asleep. Buddy let the smile stay on his face as he looked out over the pond again. A cool breeze danced across his face that caused his hair to brush over his face and Buddy wrinkled his nose at the feeling. He swept it aside as best he could, but was stopped mid-motion at the feeling of something tugging his pant leg. As he pushed his hair out of his face, he glanced down to see that it was Chase— lazily pulling at the fabric without looking up, silently coaxing Buddy to join him on the ground. Buddy chuckled and pushed himself forward from the log without much thought. He found a comfortable spot in the grass sitting upright against the log. From the corner of his eye, Buddy could see the edge of a satisfied smile on Chase’s expression.
They stayed like that for another moment before Buddy had an impulsive thought. He lifted his hand—hesitant—and tentatively laid it on Chase’s head, then moved his hand gently against Chase’s hair to smooth it over, watching for any sign of discomfort. He found none, and instead received a content sigh and Chase absentmindedly leaning into the touch. Buddy laughed lightly and allowed his fingers to thread through Chase’s hair with a bit more intent. Whether Chase meant to or not, Buddy felt a gradual weight settling against his side as Chase leaned his head against Buddy. He tried to adjust his arm so that his hand could remain in place without elbowing Chase in the head, but after an uncomfortable moment of no luck, he made a second impulsive decision. Buddy eased his hand down until it was resting over Chase’s opposite shoulder. Cued by the motion, Chase adjusted his head again so that it nestled between Buddy’s side and leaning back against his arm and that movement seemed to make them finally fit together. Buddy hummed, gently squeezing Chase’s shoulder without even realizing he had done so.
They stayed like that for a while, wordlessly watching the dragonflies dart past, and the grass wave, and the ripples in the pond, and the flowers and berries bobbing in the breeze. It was comfortable. For both of them. Chase’s breath evened out and Buddy almost thought he’d fallen asleep. To his small surprise, he felt no urge to wake Chase up. He was happy to be a source of comfort, even just for a bit. He found himself leaning more against Chase as the minutes passed and suddenly the lingering tiredness from having been woken up for the book started to catch up with him. He tried to bite back a yawn, but failed.
Chase stirred against his side and Buddy gently ran his thumb over Chase’s shoulder. “You awake again?” he teased with no malice behind it.
“Mm.” Chase adjusted his position slightly. “I’ve been awake,” he murmured. Buddy wasn’t sure if he believed it with how sleepy Chase’s voice sounded—barely enunciating the words. Chase yawned into his next words and Buddy only caught the tail end of the sentence through the distortion of it. “—is book.”
“What was that?”
Chase shook his head lightly, unintentionally nuzzling into Buddy’s arm in the process. “I said this isn’t the only reason I liked this book.” He gestured toward the pond.
“The scenery?” Buddy felt Chase nod more than he saw it.
“Yeah. I mean, obviously that’s really nice. The artwork in the book is nice. But I always really liked the story, too. I—the main character, Quack—” Chase giggled at how silly it sounded out loud. “The duckling, of course,” he joked.
“Of course,” Buddy echoed.
“You know, just—she’s always kind of off doing her own thing. And she gets distracted, and she doesn’t always keep up with the others, but in the end that—she saves the day. By not being perfect, I guess.” Chase laughed. “From the big bad cat.” Buddy jumped as Chase reached across himself to poke Buddy in the side on the last word. Buddy used his free hand to swat Chase’s away, causing Chase to laugh again.
“Yes, I’m aware,” Buddy grumbled, subtly eyeing Chase’s hand to keep track of it.
Chase rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. You know everything.” Chase huffed and leaned a bit more of his weight against Buddy. His tone softened again. “I don’t know. I guess I just related to that. Getting distracted, or wandering off sometimes. Doing things my own way. It was nice to see that be a good thing in the end, you know?”
“Ah,” Buddy said. “I understand.” He glanced down at Chase with a teasing smirk. “Doesn’t seem like you’ve changed all that much, huh— h-hey!” Buddy shouted as Chase lightly pinched his side with the hand that had previously been out of sight between them, causing Buddy to jump again—more that time. Buddy’s smirk disappeared from his face as fast as an equally amused one appeared on Chase. As soon as Chase’s hand moved like he might do it again, Buddy had a hold of it. “Quit that,” he hissed, holding their hands out in front of them and unintentionally tightening his grip on Chase’s other shoulder, just barely.
“Fine, fine,” Chase laughed, wriggling his hand out of Buddy’s and holding both of his hands up in surrender. Buddy glared at him for another moment until he was certain Chase meant it. Once he was sure, he relaxed again.
“I understand what you mean, though,” Buddy said, glancing back out over the pond in front of them. The family of ducks had moved closer across the pond, and Buddy could tell that the mother duck was eyeing Chase while the ducklings waddled along the shore. Buddy barely caught the laugh that threatened to bubble out at the realization that, to her, Chase was a fluffy, little duckling. He shook his head before he thought too far into how close to fitting that description actually was. “It’s nice to see yourself in a character you admire,” he said instead.
“Mhm.”
Buddy paused. “Are you feeling better?”
“Mm,” Chase hummed, adjusting his position against Buddy again. “I am,” Chase said with a smile on his voice. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Feeling better?” Chase clarified, like that explained anything.
“Was I…not feeling okay?”
“I woke you up by coming here,” Chase said bluntly.
Buddy blinked. “I—N-no, I—”
Chase tilted his head back enough to make eye contact and shot Buddy an unamused expression. “You’ve been trying not to yawn this entire time, Buds. You’re not slick,” he laughed.
Buddy pursed his lips, then allowed them to form a pout instead. “Fine. Yes, I was asleep before—before I came into the book.”
“I knew it,” Chase murmured. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. No worries,” Buddy replied.
Chase clarified his previous question. “So did you at least get some rest while we’ve been here? Or whatever. I’ll leave soon, if that’s why you’re still here. Don’t worry.”
Buddy thought for a moment, then adjusted himself slightly forward—not quite reclined in the way that Chase was, but a bit more than he had been before. As a result, Chase’s head ended up much closer to resting on Buddy’s shoulder, and Buddy’s hand ended up further down Chase’s arm. Chase moved as well, making sure they were both still resting comfortably despite the shift. “I’m alright here,” he said genuinely, then faltered. “O-oh, um—if you are. Uh, still are. Th-that is.”
“I’m fine, Buddy,” Chase laughed. “You’re good. I’m good.” Chase moved his head to properly be on top of Buddy’s shoulder. “This is good.”
Buddy laughed—a little nervously and a little fondly. “Good,” he mumbled. Both of them lulled into another silence—by far the most comfortable instance of it—and this time Buddy was certain Chase actually fell asleep. Buddy laughed again, moving his hand up to gently touch the ends of Chase’s hair and allowing the smile to remain on his face as it pleased. Chase didn’t react at all and confirmed to Buddy that he was asleep. The temptation to lean his head down just far enough to rest his cheek against Chase’s hair crossed his mind. Chase had shifted up far enough that it wouldn’t be an uncomfortable position.
Before Buddy could settle his internal debate, a gentle weight hopped onto his knee. He turned his gaze to see a duckling—one of “Chase’s” siblings—had wandered over to him, curious and fearless it seemed, about the “cat” who had been idly resting by the pond the whole time. Buddy glanced up and saw the others standing not far away with their mother, who’s expression looked as skeptical as a literal duck could possibly manage to convey. Buddy returned his eyes to the small, yellow duckling perched on his knee, who was looking up at him with an innocent wonder. The duckling hopped from his knee to his other leg in an attempt to get closer to Chase, and it occurred to Buddy that it must see him as a cat befriended by their sibling. Therefore: not a threat at all, like the original story dictated. Finally, Buddy did lean his head against Chase’s. He chuckled at how, even in this simple preschooler’s book, Chase had managed to rearrange the plot as he pleased. For once, Buddy was grateful for it.