Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All summer, stretching into fall, it happened. Some went on a camping trip, others went on a vacation. Laurance stayed home to focus on work, and to take care of his brother, due to his family having behind the scenes drama. Dante had work too, and spent the summer trying to get closer to Gene. And then… there's it . The hush hush incident in Starlight and the simultaneous silence from their friends. All Aphmau's mom had done was leave a message that they're safe, which certainly did not ease the tension.

August 30th, something big happens at Starlight.

September 8th, the first person arrives.

Dante huffs out a breath as he rounds the corner, entering his block, as he takes his morning jog. He ignores the itch in his head, that itch mourning the old liveliness of the neighborhood. Sounds of shouting, laughter, glass breaking. All he hears now is some orchestral piece ending and Metallica giving him tonal whiplash, the best kind of whiplash. A black van rolls on by, confidently pulling up to the curb right smack dab in front of Katelyn and Kawaii-chan’s house. He frowns as squints at the vehicle. The windows are tinted.

“What in the world?” he mutters under his breath, pulling an ear bud out.

A door is pulled open in the back, from the inside. Vivid, familiar pink hair is the first thing he sees, then drooping fluffy ears. Out steps Kawaii-Chan. She looks not only unreal because she’s been gone for freaking months, but also strange in a grey shirt and plain sweats. She sets a singular suitcase onto the sidewalk. She doesn’t peer around, just drags her suitcase up her driveway.

He stares, wide eyed, as the door slides shut and the van takes off, leaving her alone, like a ghost. Blinking twice, to make sure she's real, he also chooses to pinch himself, “Youch.”

She reaches the entryway and stares at the house, as if it is an ancient relic of a forgotten city. Taking a visible breath, she digs into her pocket and pulls out her keys. He can spot the copious amount of charms from across the way.

Just approach her, stupid.

Dante shakes his head, breaking into a jog, “H–hey!” he cringes at the shake in his voice, “Kawaii-Chan!”

With a visible jolt, her head spins towards him, long hair swishing. Her wide amber eyes have a startling amount of sadness in them that he can somehow see from a distance, it washes this cold feeling over him. He runs across the street and up her and Katelyn’s driveway. Their cars are still there. Frown quickly deepening, he stops before her.

Those sundrops of sadness staring widely at him look even worse all up close. Her hair, it’s so long. Longer than he’s ever seen. She likes keeping it long, but always trims it— The ends are splitting—

“Dante…” she says quietly as if he's the odd one here. Suddenly, arms are thrown around him, squeezing his bones tight.

“Ough!”

Well this somehow got more perplexing.

He can't remember the last time he's been so close to her. No, right, he does, back in high school. When they dated, when he cheated . As adults when everyone reunited, they never really were friends, just hung out through association, sometimes. Honestly, he's surprised she allowed that after what he did to her back then. And now… there's this .

His arms wrap around her, pulling her close.

What the hell happened at Starlight?

Her shoulders are horribly stiff, almost painful to look at, the tension wound tightly within her. Her breath goes shaky for a short moment, but is swiftly reeled in.

Hiding emotions. That’s a familiar move. It’s vaguely reminiscent of when the others returned from that vacation spot they were fixing up. Something was off, but they never talked, and refused to show how it effected them. But that is an entirely separate can of worms.

She nervously jingles the keychain, “I um…” her voice itself even sounds different, much lighter, less squeaky, and far more relaxed, though not in this context of course, no currently she sounds crushed, “I missed you guys,” she says in a small voice, “I missed home.”

The sincerity makes his heart wilt. This was bad. Something big is up. Oh Irene this is bad. And even worse, he has no idea how to handle people's emotions, much less his own. So all he does, is nod and awkwardly reply, “Yeah, we missed you too.”

That’s what you reply with!? he hears his voice shriek across his mind and batter into his skull.

She pulls away, smiling sadly, but terribly earnest.

His eyes dart to the suitcase and keys. Right. She's back— hopefully. “Hey, why don't I help you with that?” he offers.

“Oh,” she blinks, “Yeah, okay,” she smiles, it’s a small, weak thing. He is handed a terribly light suitcase.

They walk up to the front door together. Kawaii-Chan fumbles for a moment with the keys before gaining entry. Quickly stepping inside, she nearly trips over her own two feet. Nonetheless, the exhale of relief she releases at the sight of her home is damn near guttural.

“I… uh…” Dante fumbles, feeling like an intruder in the moment, “Where do you want this?”

Her response takes a moment, as she is taken with the sight, “By the door is fine.”

He does as told, and opts to additionally close the front door, not wanting to let any early fall wind in. As amazing as autumn breeze smells, it is very cold.

She walks over to the couch, and proceeds to just drop down, practically sinking into it. He'd chuckle at the adorable sight if he weren't so freaked out.

Dante approaches, standing off to the side, “I… Kawaii-Chan.”

Her head turns up, tired eyes beholding him, “Yes, Dante?”

Just Dante?

“You could probably understand how really freaking confused I am right now.”

“I know,” she mumbles, eyes darting away wearily.

No, don't make her sad!

Sighing, she continues, “You deserve an explanation. I guess you and Laurance have been in the dark for like… everything … huh?” she asks slowly, as if the concept has just dawned on her.

“Yeah,” he retorts, a little more passive aggressive than meaning to.

First the mysterious camping trip and vacations, both of which had everyone leaving around the same time! Then a month of not knowing where the hell everyone is. Then Starlight , then… now. Oh yeah and then there was that entire fucking year where something had happened at the old lodge place they were all dealing with and refused to elaborate on.

Seeing his poorly hidden frustration, she pats the spot next to her. He contemplates running for the door, before reluctantly joining her. Her and her sad droopy fluffy ears that make his chest ache.

“I should probably start from the beginning,” she says quietly, looking him in the eye, “I wasn't supposed to be there, I snuck onto the trip,” noticing his mounting confusion, she explains, “It was a celebration, and reunion. That whole year, he was gone, Aaron wasn't busy with his parents, or the business,” she picks at one of the charms on her keychain, a cat, “he got hurt,” she admits with a nervous, cautious air to her, “I–i can't tell you how, I'm sorry,” she adds quickly, as if laying down a sacred rule.

He pulls a face. Aaron, hurt? “Well why not?”

“Please Dante I shouldn't have even said that.”

Right… that’s normal.

“He got hurt and needed time to get better. The trip was after all of that,” she clarifies, “Aphmau finally got to see him again. So did the rest of us there—”

“Who was there?”

“I will get to that, I promise,” tense, she continues, “Then… something bad happened on the island,” something dark and poignant grabs and twists at her face, “I'm sure you saw the news?”

He shakes his head, “The public’s barely been told anything,” he doesn’t mean to, but a harsh scoff escapes him after the last word.

“Dante, you don't understand—”

“What don't I understand!?” he exclaims, feeling like he’s going crazy.

Her ears press back, “It's like… secret,” her hesitant words come out a worrisome mumble, “government stuff.”

What.

He blanks. Out of all the possible explanations he has been cooking up for months, not once, had he ever seriously thought up secret government stuff as applicable.

“You… they… h–huh?” he has to do a double take, “Wh–what the hell happened at Starlight?”

“It's a secret,” she shrugs stiffly, “But um… lots of people got hurt there, including our friends,” his heart sinks in the quickly expanding bruise of his chest. “I got cleared first to go home, by the— uh,” she stutters, “th–the government people. The others are still being um,” she pauses, stepping between words, “Yeah,” is what she decides to go with.

They are… huh?

He feels dazed, trying to keep up with the onslaught of dire information. His head can barely wrap around it.

He takes a short breath, “Who is there?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Um, Garroth and Zane, were invited.”

“They said they were on a camping trip!” Dante argues. Now he feels half super crazy and half validated. Neither feel good.

“Secret,” she reminds, nervously darting her eyes about the silent home, “So were Lucinda and Kim.”

The name doesn't ring a bell, “Who?”

“Kim,” she repeats as if that answers the question. But when it obviously doesn’t, she supplies, “She went with them to the Lodge.”

“Ohh, right. The girl Laurance used to crush on.”

She seemed sweet. Super shy and nerdy but still cute. Not really his type— Seriously that’s what you’re thinking of in a time like this Dante!?

Something about his reply makes Kawaii-Chan's face scrunch up, but she doesn't comment on it. “Aphmau was there, of course,” well it is Aaron so at least a small piece of this mindfuck is reasonable. “Katelyn and Travis were also there, by coincidence, though.”

Wait so when Travis said he was having a family trip with his father he meant Starlight of all places!? For over a month!? His dad must be loaded.

“‘Cause Travis’ dad is…” she trails off, somehow derailed from her train of thought. He follows her gaze, ending up on the floor, but he gets the sense that she is actually staring off into the air,

Oh man, she looks…

“Travis’ dad is what?” he prompts gently.

“Dead,” is the horrid word that falls from her lips.

The cold chill returns tenfold. He recoils, “Huh!?”

He’s been reeling this entire conversation but this is a step too far. It sends a jolt of terror up his spine and into his skull.

Her brain seems to catch up with her mouth, “I–i um,” she stammers, eyes refocusing with rapid blinks, “Oh Irene,” she jangles her keychain, “I'm sorry Dante, so much is on my mind.”

Yeah that’s completely reasonable but geez man! He momentarily grits his teeth. Oh poor Travis. He must be…

“It's okay,” he forces a sigh from his tight throat, “I don't blame you.”

“So uhh,” she gets back on track, as if she just hadn’t done that , “Aphmau's mom was there. Aaron's–” something else seems to set her off and her face twists into something just awful.

How can it get worse!?

“They um…” she can't seem to get the words out.

“Hey, it's okay,” poor words, terrible words, even, but Irene, he is trying, “You don't have to tell me everything.”

She nods, gulping down a breath of air after a moment, “That's basically who went. I um, I'm sorry, Dante, for everything.”

The words, the awful look in her eyes, the suddenness, it whacks him painfully over the head, leaving him stunned and perplexed. He never once imagined that she could look at him in such a way. And he never expected to see such anguish in her expression. You hear about terrible things happening in the world, but never expect to know someone so…

He tries to muster up the kindest, most earnest look he can manage. He’s never been good with emotions, ironic, considering how sugary sweet his mom can be. Though, maybe it’s because she has two modes: happy and pissed.

“Don’t be,” he means it, “I’m the one who should be sorry, a–and I am! Truly, I am so, sorry, Nana,” he wants to reach out and clasp her hand in his, but he doesn't want to push a boundary when he’s already on thin ice in his mind.

She doesn’t look as startled as he imagined she would at him using that name, though she definitely was not expecting it, he can tell. She smiles sadly, “Thank you, Dante.”

He chuckles breathlessly, a terrible, invisible weight he hadn’t been aware of, lifting from his shoulders. It’s so sudden and startling, but he tries to welcome it, “Don’t mention it.”

She leans back, further melting into the couch with a long sigh.

He smiles fondly, but the lighter moment passes in a flash. He frowns, a new question popping into his frazzled mind, “Wait, where the heck is everyone else?”

She pouts, brows furrowing, “I told you, I was cleared first to go home, since I was um,” she awkwardly siphons through her words, as if censoring herself— no that is definitely what she is doing, “I was less… affected, or of importance— um, concern.”

Concern? “Did something happen to you, KC?”

Irene he hopes not. People don’t deserve to be hurt in general but if anyone super doesn’t deserve it, it’s Nana.

She pulls a twisted face that tells him 100% yes but keeps quiet. He knows in that moment that he is not getting any more from her. It is horribly frustrating but he he decides not to push. Even someone as dense as he knows his place in a situation like this.

He pushes himself up onto his feet and declares, “I’ll go to the store and get you some groceries to last you a bit,” he doubts she wants to go shopping after everything.

“Really?” she peers up at him, hesitant.

“Of course!” he waves her off, “No trouble on my part, honestly.”

In return she gifts him a smile and a nod. It soothes some of his aching chest. Not overstaying his welcome, he takes his leave to head to the supermarket down the road.

Lonely, a simple word, but the perfect one to describe the house over the summer, over these last three months. Spending time with his family helped, immensely, but coming back home to an empty house or seeing them go each time filled him with that horrible loneliness. Dante comes around, that has definitely helped. He never expected to become close with that guy but prolonged proximity just does that.

But the worst part is how much he misses Garroth, and how terribly angry he is at him. Garroth just goes on a camping trip without him and sure he invited Laurance but they both knew that Laurance couldn't make it, not by a longshot! So not only does he last minute ditch him for the entire summer, he then ghosts him for five weeks! Laurance every day when he enters his home, is furiously compelled to hit things, or punch the shit out of his unaassuming pillow, imagining it's that blonde bastard. But deep in his core, the things he yearns for the most, is his best friend.

Of course he misses their other friends too. Misses Aph's laugh, Travis’ attempts at charisma, Katelyn's abrasiveness, his banter with Lucinda, by Irene he misses Lucinda. And Aaron's been gone so long he's started to worry.

Why is everyone leaving me? … and Dante. The small, young voice in the back of his voice mumbles.

Work and babysitting has ran him to the ground. Sure he has Dante but it's difficult to make time when he's always with Gene. Laurance prefers to avoid that guy. Cadenza is constantly busy, running her small business. He's so proud of her, honestly he is, with how hard she has worked despite everything they've been through. But sometimes he can't help but be bitter, especially now.

Laurance wakes on his couch to his phone, the sweetly agitating voice of Britney ringing loudly from the coffee table. He groans and grabs half hazardly for his phone, spamming his finger until it shuts up.

It's not his alarm so he is not getting up.

Not even a minute later: My loneliness, is killing me! And I—

“Urgghhh,” he groans, reaching for it.

I must confess, I still believe—!

He slams his thumb into the answer button and presses it up against his ear without looking at the caller ID, “Huh what?”

“Laurance you will not believe the morning I'm having,” Dante's voice rushes out. He sounds as if he's holding his voice back from raising in volume from what seems like panic, or excitement, perhaps both.

It's not entirely unusual for Dante to randomly call him. Though he usually just busts into the house to assert himself. On top of that, he knows that Dante likes to wake at ungodly hours to exercise.

What kind of maniac first eats after exercising?

“Yeah, what's up man?” he rubs his face.

“Okay so I was taking a jog and I was finishing up when I saw this weird black van in front of Katelyn and KC's house.”

Laurance is suddenly more awake, “Uh, huh?”

“Then I saw— Wait maybe I shouldn't have said that part.”

He rubs his eyes, his voice coming out gravely and dry, “Dante, context?”

“Yes. Right. Sorry man, I'm frazzled.”

“Frazzled huh?” Laurance mumbles with groggy amusement, “Yeah you sound it. Where even are you? Why don't you just come over and explain? I know your work doesn't allow phones, so, yer not there, right?”

“Grocery store,” he supplies.

“Oh. Yeah okay, continue.”

“So out of the van steps Kawaii-Chan and then it—”

Laurance blinks blankly at the armrest before him. Did I hear that right? Then a moment passes.

“Excuse me what !?” he exclaims, pushing himself up by the elbow. Sitting back into the couch he stares at the ceiling, practically feeling his frown lines forming.

“I'm not lying I swear,” Dante defends.

“Hey I never said you were.”

“Right, sorry,” he sighs.

“It's alright man, just keep going.”

KC… back?

“Right, yes. So she stepped out and I went over. She only had one bag, and she seemed so out of it,” Dante sounds terribly worried, “I'm out getting her groceries. Laurance something happened in Starlight—”

“She was in Starlight!?”

Everyone with a TV or phone knows that something really fucking bad happened in Starlight. Of course the government's been keeping it all hush hush but anyone with a brain knows that a ‘minor crisis’ is absolute bullshit. And their friend was there—? Well, he hopes Kawaii-Chan counts him as a friend. They aren't close in the slightest to be honest, but she's a sweet girl. And Aphmau has a good judgement in character, for the most part.

“Laurance I want to say so much but this seems serious,” Dante pleads, “Like government intervention stuff. Laurance I am being so serious you have to promise to keep everything I tell you to yourself, okay?”

As if being slapped awake, he has been jolted to full awareness. Oh my Irene . He sighs hurried, “Yeah okay, I promise. Now tell me what’s happened!” Laurance has decided that he has been out of the loop for too long ! And he is not passing up this chance up to finally know something, hell anything!

I love you honey!!! -johan

“Okay so what I got from her explanation, is,” Dante begins in a hushed, rapid fire manner, “Back when they all went to that Lodge place, something super bad happened and Aaron got really seriously hurt.”

Aaron, their Aaron, hurt ? That doesn’t sound real.

“So I guess turns out, he wasn’t on vacation, or doing businessy things with his parents, he was in the hospital— I think? Or physical therapy, maybe. I–I don’t know. Anyways, that’s why he was gone for that entire freaking year. And why everyone was pretending to not be depressed— And why Aphmau was so weird!”

Laurance shudders as the memory forcefully reenters his mind. Everyone had returned from that place, different, very different. They looked older, tired, burned . But after the first week, which most of them had spent locked away in their homes — or in Zane and Garroth’s cases, locked away in their rooms while Zane occasionally ventured out to scavenge for food — they all had started acting “normal”. Yeah, “normal”! As if nothing had even happened. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that your best friend is really fucking hurting. Though maybe it takes a genius to figure out how exactly to help them.

“So all this time he’s been away, and then this summer, everyone starts making excuses to leave. Something something camping trip, something something family business. Turns out, they all went to Starlight.”

So everyone gets the okay, except them?

Garroth and Zane make sense, he supposes. Garroth and Aaron weren’t super close but no one really is except Aphmau. But over time they have seemed to start getting along a lot better. Oh and don’t forget the obvious point: their families' businesses work closely together. And with Zane, he’s Aph’s best friend, unfortunately. So they check out. And Katelyn kind of makes sense, she’s Aphmau’s other best friend, her best friend girl-friend, as Zane would put it. But why Travis? Why Travis over him? And a big why — why Kawaii-chan of all people? She’s a sweet girl but she and Aaron don’t have any sort of relationship beyond association through Aphmau. And lastly Lucinda. He knows that Aaron and Lucinda had some sort of friendly dynamic, perhaps Laurance underestimated that. So maybe that part doesn’t bother him.

Despite all of the road bumps and screw ups in Laurance and Aph’s relationship, he thought they were really close. If this were just about Aaron he could get that. But she chose Travis over him? Really ? What kind of fuckery is that!?

Dante huffs out, “They were vacationing this entire ti— most of this entire time. Well I guess we knew that but I certainly didn’t think it was to this extent.”

“Did Kawaii-chan tell you what even happened at Starlight?”

“Nope. Just said it was something really really bad,” his pensive tone becomes saddened as he sheds his annoyance, “Laurance she looked pretty bad.”

“Hey that’s not—”

“No not like that!” he exclaims, then forcefully quiets his voice, “I mean that she looks like. wrecked. I’ve never seen her look anything like this, ever.”

Laurance cannot even picture it in his head. Has he seen Kawaii-chan sad, or upset? Definitely. But desolate, wounded — like those who returned from the Lodge — that is a whole other realm that feels impossible for her. Kawaii-chan just isn’t… like that.

Dante speaks with a level of stress he hasn’t heard since everything with Nicole, “Laurance, she said she was the first to be cleared, cleared . And from what she was putting down, it sounded like they were being held by some special forces whoever-the-fucks. Our friends are who knows where,” panic rises in his barely restrained tone, “I’m trying to not make it about me but I’m kinda freaking out.”

Laurance should be freaking out too. He would be, yes, but he has learned over the years that he is— or perhaps it was learned from experience, that in moments of crisis, he is filled with a controlled calm responsibility. Laurance knows that he will definitely lose his shit later, definitely wheeze and maybe cry as his heart tries to mirror a hummingbird. But that is not now. So he listens, nods despite being on the phone, and says, “Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with being worried. Honestly it’d be weird if you weren’t losing your cool. But you’re doing all you can and that is ample.”

A long, strained sigh carries through his phone, “Yeah, alright,” Dante slows his breathing and clears his throat, “Okay,” a moment, “Thank you, man.”

“It’s no problem. This is… a lot,” that’s putting it lightly.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Ample, huh?”

“Yes you’re very ample, now hurry up with the groceries,” he chides lightly, “I have an inkling that you’ve been pushing the cart around in circles this entire call.”

He waits for Dante to retort or snicker but—

Laurance blinks, “He just hung up on me.”

He turns to the void of his house to see what they think of his commentary. Silence, like usual.

Chapter Text

The chime of a bell rings softly through the cafe as Laurance enters for work. The place is decently filled, most of the patrons entering are on their lunch breaks from their jobs, or college students coming in to study. Gene and Damian had covered the opening shift to Laurance’s knowledge. He can’t really remember which one he is going to switch with. That morning call has scrambled his entire already stressed out brain. He slips past a customer and heads to the back to get changed. He spots one of the new hires doing the same. Due to being understaffed after everyone up and left, Gene, being left in charge, had decided to bring on part time employees for the summer, which mostly ended up either being high school or college students. Honestly Laurance is relieved he did so.

He steps into a changing room. Back when he first started working here, it was strictly meant to be part time. After all, he literally has another job. But he really wanted to help out his friends. Mostly his contributions were baking the fresh goods in the morning and occasionally filling in shifts. But when summer came, he was needed here. Up side: Laurance has a lot more income now. Down side: He’s been stretched thin and barely sleeps. And when he does have free time, it’s usually spent babysitting Caleb.

I need to stop dwelling on this. It’s only making me feel worse. And that doesn’t do any good. So there’s no point.

He steps out and gets to work.

As Laurance approaches the counter with orders, Gene greets him with a friendly, casual look, “Hey Laurance.”

Right, he’s filling in for Damian.

Smiling faintly, he says back, “Hey Gene, how’s it going?”

“It’s been a pretty good morning,” he’s filling a to-go bag with a pastry, “Lunch rush looks like it won’t be too bad, but y’know, you never know. How’s Caleb?”

Working with Gene at the cafe has never been an issue. Laurance doesn’t mind him as a coworker and even if he did, he knows how to be professional. And even Laurance will admit that Gene has been a great boss in Aphmau’s absence, just good for the cafe in general. It’s nice seeing that Gene has actually matured over all these years.

“He’s fine.”

No, his problem with Gene is mostly when he has to hang out with him on a personal level. After everything, he’s never really felt the urge to re-friend him, if that’s a thing . He was perfectly fine with forgiving and forgetting. And when he moved in nearby he wasn’t very happy, but he got past it. It’s just kind of annoying having Gene with them when he’s trying to hang out with Dante. And it was extremely irritating those few times Dante was over and Gene just entered, yes entered into Laurance’s freaking space!

“That’s good to hear,” Gene reaches over to receive Laurance’s slips, “Were you able to sleep in today?”

The concern, although mild, makes Laurance internally bristle. “Nah,” he gives a casual shrug, “Dante woke me up.”

Gene chuckles, “Oh whatever will we do with him?”

More like whatever will we do with our friends.

As he walks away to continue waiting tables, he wonders if he should say anything to Gene. Maybe Dante’s told him? He faintly shakes his head, stepping over to a booth. No, Gene’s not freaking out, or trying badly to act normal. Beyond the secret government stuff reasons, Dante might have not told him because despite how much they’ve worked to better their relationship, from what Laurance has seen, it’s still not perfect. Dante doesn’t talk about it as often as he used to, but every now and again, he’ll rant about his brother to him, who Laurance has to then see at work. People are really complicated.

He brings a table food. After work later tonight I should really visit Kawaii-chan. He tries to envision it. Knocking on her door. Seeing her sad. Being let in. Then… Geez, he really can’t imagine her like that. Is that bad? He doesn’t mean to put her in a box, but genuinely the image of her being how Dante described feels impossible. She’s loud, and cheery, and overly enthusiastic. Even when she’s upset, there’s always a layer of drama to it. That’s just how she is. And we all adore her for it. Honestly he’d always felt that she was one of the easiest people to understand, that he’d gotten her all figured out. Not that she isn’t a layered and complex person, just… Huh wait a second. He writes down an order. Maybe that is the case. Does that make me shallow?

Does that make me a bad friend?

It’s not even the fact that they’re not close, and he just doesn’t know her better. As he imagines being close to her, sure, he’d know more about her, and would learn all of her tells and habits. But he still believes that she’d still be the same KC that is locked into his mind. And he’s starting to worry if that’s a problem. He carries a plate. He doesn’t see it as he sets it down at the side. He remembers a time where she’d been upset that no one took her seriously. Honestly he thought that it was pretty ridiculous. How could she expect to be taken seriously when looking like that? Maybe that’s kind of harsh… She had just not been self aware, in the slightest. But she’s never been self aware. That’s what is so humorous and endearing about her. Of course he’d never say that to her face but… Oh Irene. That’s not…

Am I a—?

“Laurance, you should take your break.”

A familiar voice reaches deep into his floaty, constricting thoughts, and pulls Laurance out. Wow he hadn’t realized how extreme his tunnel vision had become… or that he was having it in the first place. Laurance glances at the clock, it’s a cat and the hands are whiskers. Cute gimmick but it only looks normal at certain specific times.

It takes a hot second to read. A couple hours had passed.

He turns back to Gene, sighing, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

So a big whoops, Laurance turns out, had forgotten his lunch, or to even pack one. It’s not a huge loss though, eating junk food for one day won’t kill him. He sits in the back, relaxing on the pink couch as he eats. Growing up, he’d always thought that pink was a really dumb color, a girl's color. Cadenza used to beat him up whenever he voiced as such. The dramatic irony, all these years later, working in a freaking maid cafe. He snorts. Where’d he even get that from? Pink is just lighter red and he loves red.

The smell of smoke swirls around in his mind. He grimaces. Yeah, right.

He shakes away the memory. Lingering on negativity won’t do him any good. Instead, he thinks about when everyone’s going to return.

Game nights again. Travis absolutely decimating us in Uno. Cards Against Humanity with Garroth, he always had the best answers. Katelyn in recent times joining them and having the worst competitive rage I’ve seen, since, well uh, myself.

Having Garroth and Zane as housemates again. Having Garroth back… Cooking breakfast in the morning and Garroth either joining or coming downstairs solely from the smell of fresh food. Zane coming down in the middle of the night and freezing like a demon, or a child getting caught in the middle of a crime. He frowns. He didn’t start doing that until after they went to the Lodge. If Laurance’s memory serves him correctly, Zane actually had a surprisingly well maintained sleep schedule before. Yeah he’d brag about getting eight and a half hours each night. That dick.

He sighs. No. No thinking about that stupid lodge place. You’ll just drive yourself crazy with conspiracies. Laurance takes a good bite out of his bagel and returns to his prior train of thought.

Lucinda hosting murder mystery parties again. She’ll call me at ungodly hours like she did before and ask me to carry out her manual labor as if she isn’t literally magic. Her teleporting into my hou—

He feels his face turn beet red and his mind shove a repressed memory straight into his eye sockets.

THINK ABOUT LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE! UH UH— ZANE BEING A HUGE PRICK! AND STUCK UP! ALL EMO AND MISERABLE BACK IN SCHOOL DESPITE BEING LOADED—

Garroth sitting on the couch with me again. The couch we bought together.

His mind stills. Yeah, I can’t wait to do that again.

On his way home from his actual job, Laurance grabs a coffee. Will this help the imaginary band kids that are using his head as a base drum stop ? Not in the slightest. Will it maybe bring his mind back to reality and make his eyelids stop drooping? Irene I hope so. And do not even bother asking him if drinking coffee at seven o’clock at night is healthy.

Sipping on his cup, he makes his way up Katelyn and Kawaii-chan’s driveway. The sight of the light on inside feels uncanny, but relieving. He strides on up to the door and doesn’t waste a moment before knocking. He waits a long minute, and forces his mind not to drift off. Patience is a virtue. So is being spatially aware. He hears very faint footsteps and assumes she’s far from the door but not a second later it opens.

Any words, or smile, or greeting he had been preparing, or just about to conjure, immediately die. Like a stone blocking his words and sinking down into his throat to choke him.

It’s like looking at a stranger. Kawaii-chan’s face has a heaviness to it that doesn’t really make sense. It looks aged, like when your hair greys early from stress. Her eyes look exhausted, and under them are deep set bags. But she doesn’t look sleepy in the slightest, rather the opposite, really. There’s a hyper vigilance to her gaze, as if she’s aware of everything at once but too tired to do much of anything about it.

A horrible weight settles down at the bottom of his stomach.

“Laurance?” she questions, like he’s some sort of ghost. She’s the one who looks sickly pale like one! Even her voice has changed. It is far less shrill and energetic. But it feels beyond just being low energy. And she’s dropped the whole honorific thingy. Her head tilts to one side, amber mirrors giving him the once over. “Laurance I—” she pauses, then decides to abort any greeting as she urgently steps into his space.

He blinks, realizing what she’s offering. Laurance wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into a hug.

In his head, he feels himself reeling, mulling over questions, theories, even more damn questions, paranoid fears, nightmares— Yet simultaneously, his mind has come to a complete halt.

She hums weakly and secures her arms around him in return. She doesn’t really hug tight, aside from one small squeeze. But he can feel the vulnerability. And it pains him.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She welcomes him inside and offers him tea. He receives a small, amused smile when he asks if it is caffeinated. So he ends up on her couch, holding a pink mug of green tea. On the other side of the couch is Kawaii-chan. Aside from the… obvious, she looks different. Her hair’s way longer. And she’s not dressed up. Not that he expects her to, it’s just that he’s never seen her casual. She’s got a pair of sweats on, along with a cozy looking cardigan thrown over a grey shirt. He also realizes that there’s no bow on her tail. How had he never really noticed the bow on her tail?

“So…” she starts awkwardly.

“So,” he echoes, sounding dumb.

“Dante said he told you.”

Like being dunked with a bucket of ice, he’s back.

“Right, yeah,” he nods, “He did, when he was at the store.”

“I know,” she looks nervous, “But I’m guessing you have questions? Like a lot of them?”

“I do, obviously. How can I not? Like— You all disappear, then ghost us, and suddenly you’re tangled up in some crazy stuff and you're—” hurt . He feels the word clog his throat, another stone.

He sees her fidget with the sleeve of her cardigan, “That’s fair. It’s just um, I want to answer everything. But there are certain things that I can’t, Laurance. I’m sorry,” she apologies, and he believes her.

He feels the whirlwind of negativity from all of today, tuck itself back and away, all on its own. He feels calm, far from relaxed, but more in control. A small, patient smile forms, “There is no need to apologize, okay? It sounds like whatever,” whoever, “is keeping you quiet is out of your hands. I’d seriously appreciate it if you answered some of my questions, but you don’t have to answer all of them. Okay?”

That seems to help some of her nervousness, “Okay. Thank you. Um, ask away?”

“So what I got is that a year ago, Aaron got hurt?”

Her droopy ears somehow droop more, “Yeah…”

“Was that at the Lodge that he and the others went to?”

“Yes. But I can’t tell you how,” she denies almost instantly.

“Okay, right. But can you tell me how bad it was?” he’s not sure if he even wants to know. But he needs answers. It’s been too long in the dark.

She pouts, though not playful, or even a cute sad, it just looks like someone kicked her, repeatedly, “It was really bad. I wasn’t there but I know it took a whole year to get better. And even at Starlight, he was still doing some physical therapy stuff.”

So what Dante said checks out.

He doesn’t try purposefully to put the pieces together and dig to find out what exactly hurt Aaron, not yet. But a couple stray ideas pop into his head. Maybe an accident? Or maybe he was attacked? Though that doesn’t explain the secrecy.

“I know you can’t talk about Starlight because of the whole government thing, or at least that’s the understanding I have?” when she nods, he continues, “But what about the Lodge? Why did they not tell any of us what happened?”

That makes Kawaii-chan’s ears pin back. He feels guilty for causing it. She answers, “That’s um, more secret stuff, but uh, an entirely different thing,” she goes quiet for a long while. He assumes that she isn’t going to say anymore on the matter, till she says in a tone so serious it startles him, coming from her, “Laurance, all I can tell you about the Lodge, is that our friends got really hurt. N–not physically, except for Aaron. But they haven’t been okay since it happened.”

“I know,” he murmurs gravely.

“They were hoping that the trip would make it all— would start to make things better.”

He goes still, as a freezing realization washed over him, “Everyone who went… they all had been at the Lodge,” Katelyn and Travis were only there too by coincidence. They hadn’t left him out because they hated him, or felt indifference towards him, he was left behind because he wasn’t involved. He wasn’t abandoned.

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

Garroth doesn’t trust me…?

“Yeah,” she nods, “That’s why they were invited.”

Garroth doesn’t trust me.

She watches him, amber gaze burning with sincerity. When minutes drag on by, and he doesn’t say anything, she says softly, “I missed you guys.”

His stomach feels sick.

Laurance sips his tea, then feels himself sigh calmly, “I missed you all too. So did Dante. Gene complained about you guys but I know he missed everyone,” Gene had just gotten used to being around everyone, and working there, then leadership was thrust into his arms and everyone ditched. His missing them was half yearning, half being pissed off. He hid it well, but he’s caught Gene smoking out back behind the cafe, cussing out his missing coworkers under his breath.

He asks, “When will everyone be back, KC?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, concern making her frown, “I was—” cleared first “—cleared first. I don’t know when everyone else will be.”

“But they’ll be coming back?”

She looks almost offended by the question, “Of course they will!”

“Okay,” he nods, murmuring the word softly.

He doesn’t stay long after that. She asks how things have been, he tells her works been fine and that he’s spending more time with Caleb. He leaves and returns home. He doesn’t sleep.

Chapter Text

Y’know, despite everything that had happened yesterday, he feels a lot more chill than he assumed he’d be. Don’t get Dante wrong, he is still horrified and extremely confused, but he thought he’d be a huge mess today.

He’d returned from the grocery store and had put everything away, having to double-insist on it when KC had tried to do it instead. She’s literally been through who knows what and she expects him not to do the bare minimum? Yeah, uh huh, Dante doesn’t think so. It’s weird, he can’t remember when that became the bare minimum. After that though he didn't stay long. Though he did tell her that he spilled literally everything to Laurance and that he was extra super sorry for telling secrets. Thankfully, she didn’t seem too upset and assured him that they’re friends. And as long as Laurance kept it between them, it was fine. She even looked a little relieved at the fact that he had been a loose lips to Laurance.

Getting off of work, he bikes home. He feels himself smile, looking at KC and Katelyn’s house on the way. There’s this warm feeling in his chest from merely knowing that somewhere in that house, she’s home, and safe. Back in August, he hadn’t even been worried for her when the huge ghosting happened. He was honestly really annoyed, but not at her, rather the entire group as a whole. Dante doesn’t really know what’s sparked this change, but it is a much welcome feeling.

He parks his bike and takes one last look over at the house. Katelyn’s car hasn’t moved since July. His smile wilts.

Six days later — September 14th

Despite the massive bombshell that was, well, everything with Kawaii-chan, Dante feels the days naturally slip by. The smell and feel of that pleasant breeze tells him that Autumn has arrived. Summer is over, at last.

Yet our friends aren’t home.

He hasn’t quite heard from or seen Kawaii-chan in awhile, except for once when coming home, she’d been checking her mailbox. She had given him a nervous wave and retreated indoors.

But when Saturday morning rolls around, his phone pings with a text. He reaches over to the coffee table and grabs it from under a paper plate. Whoops.

I should really change my passcode. He will never tell a soul, but it’s Nicole’s birthday.

Kawaii-chan

Hi Dante! Do you think you could come over at lunch time to my place? I want to make us all lunch and talk :)

8:49 AM

Dante takes a moment to process, then feels a giddiness bubble up in his chest. Lunch at a friend’s house. Like old times— Irene I am dramatic. It’s only been like… three months. He grins and eagerly texts back.

Me

Sounds great!

See u then

Uhhh 12 good?

Kawaii-chan

Yep! :3

Me

Sounds great see u then

8:51 AM

He smacks his forehead with his phone.

Oh my Irene you literally said that twice.

He chuckles against the fading light of the screen.

Dante finds himself hurrying up her driveway, in his hand a plastic bag. He hadn’t really known if he should bring something, if it was expected, or if he just should to be polite, so thirty minutes before noon he had hurried over to Walmart to buy chicken from the deli. In hindsight he probably should’ve taken it out of the bag earlier, but he’s come this far. When he hurriedly thumps his fist against the door, Laurance is the one who answers. Typical. The entire block could be exploded… again, and he’d still be punctual to any event the same day.

“Ah there you are,” he wears a casual smile, “Come on, the food’s almost ready.”

“Oh yeah?” Dante enters, grinning at the promise of her delicious cooking. Oh how he has missed it dearly. It’s amusing, considering how horrid a cook she was back when they were together, “What’s it gonna be?”

“I have literally no idea. But Kawaii-chan’s been really on top of it for the uh.” he glances at the clock, taking a hard moment to mentally calculate, before seeming to give up, “the last ten or so minutes I’ve been here.”

He and Laurance pass into the dining room, “Good to know I haven’t missed anything. I was worried I’d be late.”

Dante blinks as KC zooms by, dashing into the kitchen as she holds up a half hearted thumbs up, “No you’re right on time!”

Laurance snorts fondly, “Like I said, on top of it.”

As he takes a seat in the middle, Dante opts to sit down across from him. He sets the bag on the table.. It’s so dizzyingly casual. He gazes at the empty spot where the flash of pink had been. It's still such an odd sight, seeing her.

Am I really that much of a hermit? The moment I get socialization I get all mushy, eugh. No that couldn’t be true, he hangs out with people all the time. Gene, Laurance, Sasha, uhh, his coworkers while at work. Well, it’s not a small amount, but considering the social butterfly he used to be…

“Irene I'm excited for food,” the brunette groans, head tilting back in a melodramatic fashion.

“Feeling snacky?” Dante muses, leaning forward.

He gives a loose shrug, leaning back in his chair, “Haven't eaten yet.”

Dante snorts, rolling his eyes, “Laurance I know for a fact that you are a breakfast person.”

He expects a snappy remark. His friend instead makes a low, noncommittal noise, staring off to the side as that teasing warmth fades from his body.

Did I say something wrong?

The strange air is interrupted by a shrill shriek. It came from the kitchen. Something metal clangs loudly.

Nana! He jolts stiffly upright in his chair.

Laurance meets his gaze with a burning worry. A silent conclusion is reached within a moment's notice and they both dash to the kitchen, Laurance sliding across the tile due to his socks. He catches himself on the wall, “Kawaii-chan are you okay!?”

She’s hunched over the counter, one arm steadying herself and the other wrapped securely around her midsection. A large pot is tipped over on the floor, still steaming vegetables pooling out.

“No!” she cries out, but Dante can’t tell if it’s her expressing displeasure or if it’s an answer to Laurance’s panicked call.

“What—” Dante stares, bewildered, “What happened?”

“I—” she pants harshly, face twisting in pain, “I lifted…” her small, bewildered voice trails off. Something like defeat makes her tense body slump.

“Oh Kawaii-chan,” Laurance says gently. The brunette approaches her, “It's okay. It's just some food,” he smiles, sympathetic, “Why don't you take a break?”

Ugly jealousy rears its head, stunning Dante. What's wrong with me!? She's not even my girlfriend.

She stammers, “B–but there's— um, in the oven,” her panicked gaze darts around the room. There's a pan of cooling cookies on the counter, alongside two plates, crepes and brownies, and next to those is a bowl of what looks like parfait. The only non-sweets foods are a plate of deviled eggs and a tray of some sort of… dumpling looking things?

Holy… ass chunks. He gapes. For three people? Dante would be strangely flattered if she weren't hunched over in pain.

“I can take care of it,” Laurance pats her on the back, “I'm really your only friend who can be trusted with food, to be honest,” he chuckles, and it actually meets his eyes this time.

KC smiles back, it's sadder, “That's not true,” she sighs softly, “Aaron can.”

Huh. Learn something new every day. Dante can see it. Quiet guy, lives alone— rather, lived alone, seems responsible, handy. He vaguely remembers years ago, that bandana wearing weirdo fixing up a car, Dante jogging past.

How could he ever see through that thing?

“I…” Laurance's smile fades, making Dante frown, but his friend keeps a sweet demeanor, “We'll have to cook with him when he gets back, won't we?”

She pushes herself up from the counter, “Mm,” is the small response he gets. Dante feels a horrible buzzing worry as he sees her sway for a moment.

“Here, let me help,” Laurance slowly snakes an arm around her back.

A long, tired sigh escapes her, followed by a barely there nod.

“Dante,” Laurance calls as he begins leading her out, “Can you grab the broom?”

He blinks, realizing he’s been holding this rigid tension in his body, “Uh—” he sports a thumbs up, “Totally!” he spins on his heel and marches away on his mission. After about twenty seconds of looking around, he realizes that he doesn’t know anything about the layout of Nana and Katelyn’s house.

“Dammit,” he mutters gravely beneath his breath.

Laurance is exhausted. He had worked a double yesterday and barely slept. But he is determined to make this a good day. The weather is warm, trees have begun to softly yellow, or orange…en. Is there even a word for that? Uhh, irrelevant. And KC has invited him and Dante to lunch. And it’s his rare full day off. Ignoring how he feels, it is a recipe for a great day. Though what really secures it for him is a mouthwatering smell of her cooking as he enters Kawaii-chan’s home. He so deeply wants to join her, he can’t remember the last time cooking was a hobby, not a chore or function. Though the sweet thought quickly sours.

Nope. He shouldn’t ask.

It is highly amusing though, watching KC running around with sheer will and determination. It’s cute how she pops in and out to say a few quick words, as if suddenly remembering she has a guest. One might say she looks stressed, but Laurance can recognize the difference between stressed out cooking and stress cooking. She probably needs this.

To be helpful, when he hears knocking at the door he quickly steps ahead to answer it. Honestly in her cooking haze, Laurance doesn’t think that she even notices the arrival of who he presumes is Dante.

They sit down and chat, casual, small stuff.

Euuggghhhnnggh, I smell barbeque sauce. The only thing that’d be better would be actually barbecuing on a grill. But he’s not picky. Though now that he thinks about it, he’s never actually had an issue with foods. He had to eat, simple as that. Who the hell wouldn’t?

Deciding to voice part of his inner monologue to Dante, he groans out, “Irene I'm excited for food,” head rolling back in a deliberately playful manner. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s complaining about the wait.

Dante smirks at him, leaning his cheek into his palm, “Feeling snacky?”

Sure, one could say “snacky”, though ravenous fits the bill better. His dumb ass hadn’t eaten breakfast, or dinner last night, he suddenly realizes. He just kinda collapsed onto his couch the moment he got home. But does Dante need to know that? Laurance doesn’t want to really lie. He slinks back tiredly in his chair, trying to look as casual as he can, “Haven't eaten yet,” he shrugs.

Now Laurance doesn’t expect sympathy, or concern, in fact he was hoping it wouldn’t be seen as a big deal, casual and all. Yet he doesn’t expect Dante’s reaction. He just snorts and rolls his eyes mockingly at him, “Laurance I know for a fact that you are a breakfast person,” as if Dante thinks he’s joking. Or lying.

Lying for attention.

There’s no “Hey chin up; you can eat now!” or “Oof, bummer”.

He realizes he should be responding. His voice doesn’t quite work for a sec, a low, unconvincing hum forcing its way out of him. It’s the best he can manage.

Why did that sting? He stares at wallpaper. Stop being so dramatic! Irene. Not everything is a big deal, or has hidden meanings. And certainly not everything a person says to you matters! He’s not even wrong, I am a breakfast person— was a breakfast person so—

His thoughts are pierced by a shrill screech, followed by the wretched, sickening sound of clanging metal. Metal like— Nope. Nope. Important thing happening right now.

They both rush into the kitchen. It looks like she had dropped a pot of steamed vegetables.

He nearly crashed into the wall, “Kawaii-chan, are you okay!?”

She’s holding her stomach. Is she hurt!?

“No!” she exclaims in distress. Laurance can sympathize, cringing as he glances at the wasted food.

His eyes do a swift spin about the room. Many dishes, plenty of sweets, most seemingly made another day, the stove is on, there’s something in the oven, there’s not a single timer on, a pair of oven mitts are haphazardly tipped on the edge of the counter.

“What— What happened?” Dante asks.

Laurance wants to grab him by the shoulders and just shake him a little. Is it not obvious? Frustration fades at the sight of subtle quivering. From fear? No, she looks more shaken up than terrified. And she’s definitely not cold, his firsthand account of watching her run about and the heat of the kitchen confirm that. So strain, it is. Which would require… an injury.

Before burning concern can begin to blur his vision he takes a slow breath, and segments the feeling and tucks it away for later. Then he has to do the same thing to the numerous disturbing theories popping up in his annoying skull.

“I…” she’s not quite heaving, which is good. On her own the harsh breaths wouldn’t be a big deal but the injury— “I lifted…” she sounds wounded, small and pained. It tugs on his heartstrings in the most agonizing way. Surrendering to it, she slumps into the counter, trembling.

“Oh Kawaii-chan,” he feels his tone dip onto something low and mournful. Deciding to finally actually do something and take action, he strides over, “It's okay. It's just some food,” it’s difficult, but, he forces a smile. Because that’s what he would want. Smiles mean it’s okay. Mean that someone’s here, “Why don't you take a break?”

She stammers, “B–but there's— um, in the oven.”

Her growing panic makes Laurance want to pull her into a hug, “I can take care of it.” Wait, should he hug her? She hugged him but that could just be a spur of the moment reunion thing. And he can’t just ask her or grab her, on one hand he doesn’t want to freak her out further, and on the other what if he upsets her… her injury. They’re friends, mostly, and she’s a touchy person. Maybe she won’t mind? He slowly reaches forwards and opts to gently pat her back.

Yeah, she’s shaking.

“I'm really your only friend who can be trusted with food, to be honest,” the joke is a blessed reprieve, and some of that uncomfortable, heated gross feeling eases.

KC meets his gaze, a pretty bittersweet smile blossoming, “That's not true,” she sighs wistfully, “Aaron can.”

Right, Aaron. Stoic, loner Aaron who Laurance can vaguely remember being an ass in high school. Aaron who Laurance spent an embarrassing amount of time being jealous of. Aaron who was just supposed to hold Caleb for ten minutes so Laurance could rest his eyes, but ended up letting him sleep for two hours. Aaron who made Laurance’s favorite person, at the time, the happiest girl alive. Their Aaron who seemed so indestructible. Aaron who literally was his partner in a cooking show, well, baking. Aaron who is who knows where in the world, being held by some special forces fucks. Aaron who… got hurt, bad. Their friend. Laurance’s friend who he took for granted as just Aph’s boyfriend. Away for an entire year, recovering.

“I…” Laurance murmurs quietly, rubbing her back, “We'll have to cook with him when he gets back, won't we?”

With straining arms, she pushes herself off of the counter, “Mm.”

She begins to sway and naturally Laurance secures an arm around her. When he offers his help she seems reluctant, but it doesn’t seem to be out of distrust, rather, something else he can’t quite discern. Though in the end she accepts it, so he sends Dante off to get supplies to clean up the accident. Dante seems a bit on edge, but that’s understandable, considering, well, everything.

Laurance leads KC to the living room, settling her onto the couch, “There,” he steps back, “Do you need anything? Um, are you in pain?” two very important questions, but probably more useful when not asked one after the other.

“No,” she lies, straight to his face. Then, “Yeah, but I’ll be okay. I didn’t pop a stitch.”

POP A STITCH!?

Sorry did he mishear?

POP A FUCKING STITCH!? MOTHER OF IRENE ON A FUCKING TRICILE!

He is going to have a stroke.

“Well that’s good,” he smiles faintly, “But really, I don’t mind being your little errand boy. I can handle whatever it is you need.”

Kawaii-chan giggles, face warming up, “It’s okay, really, Laurance,” she pouts, “I just really wanted a fun lunch.”

“Who says that we can’t?”

“I messed everything up,” she whines— she mourns, “I keep doing that.”

The tone shift shoves him off kilter. He frowns, “Says who?”

“I told you, I wasn’t supposed to be on that trip,” her voice is so sure, as if she has repeated this mantra over and over again, stating it as fact. And maybe she has been, all this time.

He sighs, settling onto the couch next to the girl, “Listen, I’m sure I can say this for everyone, that the only reason anyone would be upset at you going, is not because you messed things up, or were selfish, but rather that none of us would ever want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes brim with glossy tears but just as fast as they came, she casts them away. It is an uncomfortable, painful sight.

“You’re our friend, Kawaii-chan,” and he really wants to be a better one.

He waits for tears, or a sad smile, or an emotional, earnest response. But the silence drags on. Drags on for too long. He wants to say something but he can’t think of anything that’ll help or make her feel any better.

Then it's over.

With the dip of her head, she releases a low, wispy sigh, “That feels like forever ago, Laurance.”

Icy cold washes over him. Sharp like a slap to the face.

What the hell!?

He reels back, “K—Ka—”

“I got it all cleaned up!” Dante announces himself, strolling in with a grin, “The food looks really tasty Kawaii-chan. I’m so hyped.”

Laurance doesn’t know whether to feel pissed or relieved by the poor interruption. He’s still winded by that defeated, slightly apathetic tone, by those alarming, hurtful words. And this time, tucking those feelings away for later, is insurmountably difficult.

Nana was no stranger to the jitters, back in high school, socialization was the most stressful activity on the planet. She just wanted people to like her. The during, having the conversation, was okay, the after, gleeful over a nice interaction, a possible friend, was great. Now the before? That was the hard part. Sucking in a breath as her body teems with the jittery nervousness of dire anticipation.

Jitters is what she could equate this new feeling to. Though compared to the tightness of her chest, the ice in her stomach, the whirring in her skull, the word feels very silly. Prior to Starlight, she never felt this feeling, the overwhelming sensation of whatever is possessing her mind and body. And then there’s the thoughts, they are a million times worse than her brooding insecurities of the past. Her mind has become her own bully — her own body, a traitor.

The stress hadn’t left before lunch, though it seldom ever does, but after her screw up, it has only worsened, fermenting into something far worse. A mix of dread, shame, fear, agitation, jitters.

She knows Starlight was bad, of course, but this isn’t right. This should not be happening.

The boys are digging into lunch with much enthusiasm. That helps, a little. Watching others enjoy her food is such a warm feeling, even if tainted by her own frustrating feelings.

“So,” Laurance is the first to take a pause from the chowing, “Have you been settling back in well, Kawaii-chan?”

Every day is spent in isolation without a single word from any of her friends, aside from Zianna’s text a week ago, only containing three words: Everythings goimg fine.

No mention of Zane, or Garroth. No asking how she’s doing. No update on the safety of Aphmau and especially Travis. She’d even take an “I don’t know sweetie,” or “They haven’t told us anything still”. Anything but indifference— no this is worse than indifference. It is a complete lack of acknowledgement, that stifling thing that drags her back to her childhood, ruthlessly gripping, pulling by the arms.

You are not deserving of attention.

There are more important things, more worthy people who need it more than you.

You are selfish.

And there they go again. The thoughts.

“I’ve been okay,” she mumbles. The house is so empty. Every day is so cold. A cold comparable to that of bleeding out. Despite the stress cooking, in all honesty, she has barely been eating. Leftovers stuff Katelyn’s poor fridge to the brim. It is a relief that neither of the guys looked in there earlier.

Wrapping her own bandages has been incredibly difficult, and painful. It is a miracle she hasn’t reopened any of her stitches yet. Dressing herself, not just her wounds, has been an equally agonizing experience.

Though not as agonizing as staring at the contact of Dad and Mom, thumb hovering over the screen. Days, days she has tortured herself. And for days, she has not hit call, has not hit send text. Not once.

And not once have either called. In months.

“We miss you at the cafe,” Laurance eases the blow with an even smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

He’s mad. She holds back a wince. Why wouldn’t he be? Not only did the actual workers leave, I went as well. I was supposed to help cover, to co-manage with Gene. Now that’s a whole other distressing thought. Gene must hate me.

No not distressing. It is a nightmare.

She swallows dryly down… Irene what is she even eating? Nana hasn’t been paying attention very well— swallows as she realizes that Laurance’s expecting, unwavering gaze is wanting, demanding a response.

She swallows again and wets her uncomfortably dry lips, “I’ll be returning to work in a couple of days.”

“When?”

Nana bites the inside of her cheek. Why does he have to be so persistent?

“Tuesday,” it is too soon. It’s sickening.

The sparse food in her stomach, already uneasy, is suddenly too much.

Dante grins, “I bet the customers will be thrilled. I know I’d be. Your sweets are the best.”

A sweet sentiment. So sugary it's making her ill.

“I think they might be sick of chocolate,” Laurance adds. It’s light, it's teasing. He must be so angry with her.

I’m so selfish.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, man,” Dante is beaming with energy, “Your caramel stuff is like fuel for me. Though that could just be the sugar rush.”

Laurance rolls his eyes, “Sure. Mr Healthy.”

Dante’s still smiling, but something passes through his face. Nana doesn’t understand it. She’s never been good at reading people. Nonetheless, Dante chuckles, “Hey now I have a sweet tooth. And a mouth with freaking taste buds. Seriously, if you told my kid self that he’d grow up to have two friends that bake, and like often?” his eyes widen playfully, hands pressing flat to the table, “Man he would die.”

That’s not funny.

Despite the rockiness and the stressful dodging of figurative spikes, Laurance has actually been enjoying himself. The food is much, much welcome, after the last few days he’s had, and the hunger. Chatting with friends, like before, experiencing a social activity, it feels like being wrapped in a thick blanket fresh out of the dryer. Something that in reality he has only experienced thrice. He hopes KC is enjoying this as much as he is. Laurance really cannot tell. She looks down, but then again, she always looks down these days. On a lighter note, watching Dante wolf down food, forgetting or perhaps forgoing his manners here and there is a highly amusing sight.

Once getting the horrible yet necessary work talk out of the way, he eases the conversation away into more comfortable, easy topics. He shares stories — and pictures — of Caleb. He pokes fun at the time last month where while working on a car, Dante bonked his head really good, Laurance as a witness to his suffering since they were hanging out. There had been the most startling, loud mental thunk, followed by pained whines, and several curses.

“Gene choked on his soda,” Laurance adds, grinning, “It’s like he was hacking up a lung or something.”

Dante rambles, and complains, about how his mom had guilted him into mother and son pottery lessons in his brother’s place, since Gene had to cancel due to work.

“Act as exasperated as you want, Dante,” Laurance snickers, “but we both know that you secretly enjoyed it.”

After an unserious grumpy retort, several, in fact, Dante gives in and speaks fondly, “People talk about how horrible and messy it is but honestly I didn’t mind. I dirty my hands almost every day working on cars and engines. Pottery’s more slippy but it’s basically the same deal. And it's like… pretty methodical, in a relaxing way, almost, I mean.”

The weight in KC seems to dampen a bit at that. It makes Laurance smile.

Lunch is long, but a good long. It doesn’t drone or drag, aside from the work stuff at the beginning. In the end, Kawaii-chan loads them up with leftovers that will last him for days, he thinks of eagerly. Very eagerly.

“Thank you so much for coming,” KC gives him a weak smile, but he can tell she means it.

“Of course!” still high on the social rush, Dante doesn’t think twice before striding forward and moving to open his arms.

It is sobering, watching her already faint warmth extinguish, replaced by an almost mournful expression.

“Uhh,” he freezes, arms stupidly halfway extended, “I’ll see you around, then,” he steps back and adjusts his hold on the plastic bag clutched in his fist.

Oh my Irene I’m going to die.

If Dante had looked back, he would have seen Nana’s hand, shyly reaching out. She wasn’t ready for another hug, but a friendly, platonic touch would have been so nice.

Chapter Text

September 17th

Pink has never looked so sickly. It's in the cafe’s logo, decor, furniture, her uniform. Nana hasn’t always loved the color. When she was little her parents color coded her dark blue. Each sibling had their own color, to make it easier to tell them apart, and to shop for. As a little kid she thought that meant that it was her favorite, but when she reached middle school, and started to gain more of her own self and interests, she realized, oh, no, that’s silly. Then she had a goth phase. Then came the bright neons and over-accessorizing her 7th year. Then in the last year, when that wasn’t working to give her the attention she so craved, or the satisfaction of an identity that felt right, she had found her favorite anime, with her favorite character, and had tried to embody her.

Looking back, her family and friends had assumed it was the normal cringe of awkward early teenagehood. But then it continued not only into high school, but clouding over all of her adult life. In school, it had gotten her attention, friends, people noticed her. As an adult, she was immature, loud, annoying, overbearing, weird, airheaded— But anyhow, pink used to be what she associated with family, due to them all having the same hair color. She had loathed it early on, but then it became something cute, expressive, a key piece of her identity.

She still likes it now. But seeing it dripping from every crevice of her life leaves this fake, sugary film coating it. Sickly.

Nana stares at herself in the mirror of the changing room.

I look like a baby.

Another thing, getting her entire uniform on and adjusted was incredibly difficult, a strenuous painful venture of which she dreads having to repeat nearly every day ahead.

Inhale. Unappetizing orange meets her gaze in the mirror. Time to put on your best face. You have to make up for everything you did. The person before her smiles far too wide. She adjusts, molding it into something customer appropriate, polite, friendly, and pleasing. You need to be better.

She slips out of the backroom, entering the main space of the cafe. A few customers have already arrived, likely wanting coffee and a light treat.

“Kawaii-chan?” Gene stares at her in surprise, “I had no idea you were coming.”

Because you told him nothing, stupid.

Gene looks tired, but surprisingly, well put together, despite it. He has an air of seriousness about him, though maybe that is just the professionalism talking. But it isn’t all consuming, if the easy smile he briefly lends her is genuine. He looks about the same at first glance, though peeking a bit closer reveals several earrings and new piercings along his ears, he had a couple before but the number has nearly doubled. His hair is longer, ends reaching towards the base of his neck, neatly taken care of, but in need of a haircut. And it may just be the fact that she hasn’t seen him in months, but he just might be an inch taller.

“Oh!” she grins sheepishly, “My bad. I am um, returning to work permanently, as of today.”

Something gross churns in her tummy as she witnesses the relief washing over Gene at her words, “You have no idea how great that is to hear,” while he’s not cold, she notices the friendliness drain from his demeanor, “You can wait some tables today to get back into it but honestly what I really want is extra help prepping before open.”

Right. She had completely forgotten about that. Nana nods, “I can do that.”

“Okay, good,” he sighs, some of the tension leaving him, “Laurance is at work right now but will be taking the closing shift. Damien has the day off. Yip is—”

“Yip?”

He squints, then sighs, “Right yeah you haven’t met the part time hires.”

“You hired new people?”

Gene’s eyes narrow, something aggravated lurking behind them, “Yes. You left without a notice and we were understaffed, badly.”

Nana fights back her natural urge to shrink down. You can’t be upset at him. You did this. She puts on a smile, “I can't wait to meet them!”

“Yip arrives in abouuut,” he casts a halfhearted glance over to the clock, “uh, fourty, to help prep for brunch–lunch rush, or something. Then there’s also—”

Ding! The bell welcomes new customers.

“That’s your cue,” Gene says.

Nana nods, readying herself for a day of work. Except that when she begins to walk away Gene stops her.

“Your bow fell out, in the back.”

Aw man! That had been really hard to tie. Then she freezes. He’s expecting her to fix it. Like right now. Oh Irene. I must look so ridiculous! What do I do!? Logically she knows she should just get it over with but her stitches — or rather the skin and muscle around them — still ache from getting dressed. Her eyes dart between him and the table, stuck in the middle of motion.

Gene’s giving her a strange look she cannot read, his brows scrunched. Then he strides forward, “Here, let me do it.”

A slight hand on her shoulder blade has her turning and she can feel the ribbon be pulled and tied very slowly. She picks at her nails, face heating up with embarrassment.

“All good,” he mutters hurriedly, backing away.

In an instant she is striding to the table and taking orders.

Oh my Irene.

Going through the old motions, being on her best customer service behavior, it all feels so foreign, and unimportant. Something of a world abandoned far far away. This all is so silly, compared to the last couple of months of her life. Has average life always been this silly?

Nana walks to the counter to pick up a tray of pastries, freezing as she sees a definitely older teenage boy — perhaps college age — with starkly deep brown, curly hair, dressed in the butler uniform. A uniform in which Nana did not make. To the average eye it appears to be the same, but from the designer’s eye, she can see the differences in the stitching technique, how the cufflinks are made differently, how the bow is a different fabric. Speaking of the bow, it is a dark green color that nicely matches his eyes. Then she notices the ears and tail. A werewolf. Because those definitely do not look like they came from the costume drawer.

“Oh hi,” he grins, “I’m Yip,” he seems unbothered, almost confident.

I wish I had that at your age.

“Hi!” she tries to match his grin, “I’m Ka—” the name weighs heavy and almost has a syrupy feel on her tongue, “KC, it’s so nice to meet you!” she tacks on a friendly giggle at the end.

“Casey?” Yip glances over towards Gene, but then shrugs it off, “I am so thankful for the opportunity to work here over summer break.”

Thank Gene, not me. She wants to retort, but instead says, “Of course. I hope it's been a very good experience. And if there is anything you need, you can always come talk to me,” wait was she even in charge? Aphmau had left her and Gene in charge over the summer but then she had stowed away and left it to Gene. Does she get to be in charge now? Or did she lose that privilege? Aphmau isn’t here and it's not like Nana can shoot her a text or much less call her.

“I will ma’am.”

He’s definitely a little charmer. What a sweetie. Nana giggles, “KC’s fine.”

Yip grabs a tray of—

“Shoot!” she exclaims, nabbing it from his offering hands, “Thanks!” it takes all of her strength not to dash to the waiting table in panic. Professionalism. Professionalism.

At noon, a ginger — well more like a strawberry tinted ginger — hurries inside and into the backroom. After a few minutes, she enters the seating area in a violet maid dress. Nana quickly realizes that she is the one scheduled to wait tables, since Nana had been a surprise. During lunch rush, the help is much welcome, and she feels guilt at the thought of this girl having to handle waiting these tables all on her own. She looks to be around… probably in her last year of high school? Wait no its summer. She is probably going into her last year.

When they get a moment to breathe, the teenager nervously approaches Nana, awkwardly waving, “H–hi, I’m Alexis.”

“You look great!” she says with a grin. This isn’t a dress she’s made either. “I’m KC. It’s great to meet you.”

Alexis frowns for a moment, then it washes away, replaced with a friendly, small smile, “Thank you. And thanks for the help with lunch. It was a huge relief having you there with me.”

“Yeah of course!” Nana’s response is eager, cheerful. Irene does she feel tired already.

Nana wishes she could say the day passed by in a blur. But it didn’t. It dragged, and dragged and dragged, as she remained hypervigilante of every aspect around her. The ring of the bell. The amount of people in the cafe at all times. Each different smell, mostly the warm scent of fresh baked goods and sweets. The proximity of each person in regards to herself. The conversations rattling around her as she twists and steps about, bouncing from table to table. She knows Gene’s intentions were nice, not wanting to overwhelm her on her first day back. But she wishes she was stuck behind that counter all day. It wouldn’t be a breeze, but it would be easier.

Sometime in the afternoon Yip leaves. As evening approaches, Gene waves her over.

“What is it?” she holds back a sigh, smiling.

“Your shift’s been over.”

She blinks. Oh. That wasn’t really ever a thought when she came in. Her plan was to just work. Logically yes she has to leave at some point, but it wasn’t really a part of her list of priorities today.

“Go get some rest,” Gene waves her away.

Nana drifts towards the door.

“Uhh, Kawaii-chan.”

She jolts, “H–huh?”

He’s staring at her weirdly, brows scrunching again. His eyes pan over to the entrance to the back, then snap back to her. “I— Don’t forget to change and grab your stuff.”

“Oh!” she feels stupid. Nana dashes to the changing room. She steps into a stall and yanks the curtain closed. Her arms raise, reaching back and— She bites back a yip of pain. Right. How could she forget? This was going to take awhile. At least yanking a bow apart is easier than tying one.

She's only just started and her stomach is churning most horribly.

Gene is no stranger to selfishness. It is a trait, an act, a sin as his childhood youth pastor would call it, that he is intimately familiar with. It isn’t something inherently malicious, but a slippery slope is a slippery slope and Gene had let himself slide down it all throughout his teenage years and into his early adult life. He wanted to feel powerful. He wanted attention. He wanted justice. He wanted power over people— High school was so much like a game, looking back on it. At the time he had taken it so seriously. When the realities of adulthood struck, his selfishness became far less interesting: he put his comfort, his satisfaction, his wants before anyone else.

But then the world finally struck him back and he took some much needed time to reflect. So much stupid fucking reflection.

So when all is said and done, Gene can understand why someone would fold under pressure, offload all their responsibilities onto him, and fuck off for nearly three months without a word. But understanding does not equal sympathy, and definitely not forgiveness. But believe it or not, he can actually be professional and mature about things. He just chooses not to be with Zane, that prick. And so when he sees Kawaii-chan, that immature, selfish, traitor, he calms his mind, and has a professional attitude about him as he deals with her.

The other day, Dante had rambled to him about his lunch with her and Laurance. Seeing him happy about something is of course nice, but he still bristles when Dante suggests that he should attend the next one with them. Nope. Gene’s all good. Is this a grudge? Maybe. But it is an Irene damned valid one, if so.

But, something else is nagging him about the whole situation. He thinks back to earlier in the day.

Kawaii-chan seemed distracted all day. The two moments that stuck out the most by far to him were at the start and end of her shift. KC, who is so meticulous about her creations, her passions, her appearance, opts to lazily, half hazardley tie her bow so poorly that it falls out before she can even wait a single table.

“Here, let me do it,” he said when she had just stood there, frozen, so freaking weird and strange. He even had to put that hand on her back, guide her to fully face away so he could fix it. It wasn’t a very nice or pretty bow, he has never needed to practice, really, but if it works, it works.

“All done,” when finished, his mind had caught up to the close proximity of his body to this attractive girl. She’s not his type, but he has eyes. This would’ve been fine with someone like Sasha but he doesn’t really know Kawaii-chan. Any opportunity to kinda flew out the door with her. So he made sure to quickly back away.

She did fine during her shift, and maybe it's just his possible grudge but something about her felt wrong all day. Then what happened later added fuel to his suspicion. KC literally had tried to walk out wearing her uniform! Technically sure she owns it because she made it but that's just nonsensical. Even worse, when he drew attention to it, she looked surprised. How could she not notice?

Just like this morning, she took forever changing. Not that Gene was paying much attention, but it gets to a point that it is very noticeable even to someone who is busy with other shit.

He sighs out harshly, leaning back on the couch. His next inhale draws in the taste of whatever incense Sasha has going as she works on her laptop beside him. This one smells kinda flowery? Apparently its supposed to help relax him.

“Definitely something more going on,” Sasha states when he is done relaying the series of weird events.

“Like what?”

“I dunno. If I cared more, I’d think up something. But honestly, I’m far more taken with something else.”

He quirks a brow, “Still keeping up with the Ultima stuff?”

Sasha deadpans, looking up from her work, “Its suspicious as fuck, Gene.”

“Not saying it's not. But I doubt it goes as deep as you think.”

He is met with a scoff, and the roll of her eyes, “That’s what they want you to think.”