Chapter Text
Eyelashes glued shut from the crust, Xeno rubbed them free as gentle knocking awoke him from sleep. Wind zipped through the leaves of a rustling tree nearby and clashed against the window with a howl. Little moonlight filtered in through the opaque curtains, projecting the swaying branches on the floor like a black and white movie.
“Xeno, your moms here,” Mrs Snyder whispered through the cracked door, voice a honey like drawl.
Gaze shifting through the darkness as his vision started to adjust, he pushed off the bed, blanket slipping free as his feet landed on cold wood. “Tell her I’ll be right out, just need to gather my things,” he choked out through his comatose vocal cords— not yet awake.
Footsteps fading in the distance, he squinted through the blanket of dark, palms brushing against objects till he felt the rough material of his overnight bag scrape against his skin.
Next to it, he slipped into his sneakers, socks an after thought as his eyes scanned for his blueprints.
Before the grasp of night dug their claws into both of the boys, Stanley watched as Xeno muttered, erased, and drew plans for his upcoming project into the early morning hours. As tired as they were, Xeno at least remembered to put the prints on the bed next to them instead of leaving them on the floor to get stepped on.
Despite his foresight, it was all in vain as his hands skimmed over the waves of plush blankets with no sharp edge papers in sight. They still got lost, of course they did. Assuming they weren't currently crushed under Stanley's weight, the next best spot to check was under the bed.
Cold coating his arm like a sleeve, he swallowed the shuddering chill while his arm slid across the floor hidden beneath the bed, stopping only once a fine edge bit into his forearm.
Although his mind was clear, still booting up, he couldn't help but be surprised at the cleanliness of the space. The last time Xeno had gone to look for something he lost here, the amount of clothes, shoes, random junk, and toys being cramped there was astonishing. One wrong breeze and the Tetris of objects would have exploded into its own big bang.
He reprimanded him about it, helped him clean it, and organize it after. A flutter kicked at his stomach— looked like he listened and kept it clean after all.
Collecting the papers in a quick sweep, he reemerged from the depth; whispering Stanley a quiet goodbye as the door shut behind him. He made quick work of the house layout, even with the dark coating every inch, he padded quickly down the stairs serenely so as not to wake others.
Outside, the nipping air slammed against his face, pinking his cheeks and nose; it smelled of dry wood and freezing grass.
In nothing but his pjs and tennis shoes, he sprinted across the lawn, imprints left behind in the pale grass as he paved his own path to his moms car. The light reflected silver streaks on the cars edges, while the headlights illuminated the cracked road ahead of it. Mrs. Snyder was leaning against the passenger door, voice spilling through the cracked window as their conversation sparked laughter.
“Mornin Sweetheart,” Mrs. Snyder huffed out in a chuckle, ruffling his white strands through her fingers as she opened the door with the other.
“Did you have fun Xeno?” His mom looked him over, eyebrows raising at the deepening eyebags. Xeno’s fingers ran through his hair, trying his best to fix the nest forming on his head like it was a free shelter for birds, it was not!
“I did,” He mumbled before turning back to Mrs. Snyder, trying his best to use every muscle to smile. It's not that he didn't have fun, he was just moments from passing back out from exhaustion, felt like it at least.
“Thanks again for having me over, tell Stan I said bye.”
“Course kid, If Anna would let you, i’d keep you here forever myself, no question bout it. Stanley would sure be happy, hell, you know that boy's tired of his sisters.”
The force strain on his face muscles eased as the Smile grew automatically. Mrs. Snyder was always a joy to be around; a real sweet lady who’d kill for each and everyone of her spawn including Xeno, which she had professed on multiple occasions with bone crushing hugs.
He didn't mind it once he was able to suck back the air squeezed from his depleted lungs. She was almost like a second mom, around since his birth and always there throughout the feeble years of his life and counting.
His mom Anna, interrupted their shared laughter with a pacey tone, “Britney, I’ll call you later, me and Xe need to head on out. Again, thanks for letting him stay over.”
Smile crinkling her eyes, she nodded, hand falling off the car roof and back to her side. “Anytime, I mean it. See ya kid.”
He nodded his goodbye while the car engine hummed back to life, leaving them alone together in the stillness of the early morning. Besides the parked cars lingering near the curb, the paved roads that winded down the streets were lifeless.
The rhythmic buzz of the engine allayed his mind to sleep, if it wasn't for the growing frustration bubbling up beneath his skin, his heavy eyelids would have faltered.
“Why do you just have to pick me up so early.. I can’t stand it when you do it.” He knew the answer already, only hoped that making his mother say it out loud would make her realise how nonsensical the reason was.
Eyes watching as the lane markings came and went, she sighed leisurely, explaining herself for the 100th time. “It's for dad, you know that.”
“I understand that, it's for dad, but it's pointless and a waste of my time.”
“Xeno, enough. I'm not arguing with you about this. All I'm asking is for you to go with me, okay? two hours a week, can you do that?”
Xeno didn't reply, only sat there motionlessly as the bumps of backroads rattled his seat. She was right, always was. As mind numbing as it was, if going made her happy, it was worth it in the end. His mom was his best friend, guardian, enemy, and most importantly his mother. The only one of three people who would murder for him, care for him when sick, and love him.
“But,” She continued, pausing with a long drawn out sigh, blinker clicking in a rhythmic sound as she turned, “you're old enough now, what nine, ten?”
The heat from his stare made swallowing her laughter impossible.
“Fourteen, mom,” He corrected, pupils lingering on her for a moment longer until they turned to the blur of trees outside his window passing by.
“I’m only messing with you Xe.”
Her laughter slowed as she caught a glimpse of his hidden smile in the window reflection. “If you hate it that much, you won't have to go anymore after this, alright?”
Was this.. Victory? “Alright then,” Xeno replied without a second beat.
__
After two hours and some change, the car pulled in the driveway, tires grating to a slow stop.
By now, with as much sleep he had gotten, he had dozed off sometime during the ride home without even remembering. As maddened as he was about wasting those two hours, those blueprints glowed in the darkness of his mind as salvation. It was something to look forward to at least, especially when some parts of it still needed correcting.
Packed neatly in his bag, he waited on the porch as his mom fiddled with the lock, eyes beginning to close with the unyielding weight on his eyelids. Opening the door, Xeno’s mom watched as he passed by, concern clear on her face.
“Did you guys stay up too late again?”
Xeno slowed his steps, staying enough for his voice to carry. “Stan helped me with some blueprints I've been working on and it kept us up all night.” Hand tight around the bag's strap, he turned to his mom, gazed fixed elsewhere in hesitation. “Time always flies when I'm over there, can’t stand that.”
Crisp clicks echoed as heels met with tile, coat slid off and left to hang. A light chuckle left her smile, he may not have noticed, but with her experience, she recognized that look almost immediately— to think it happened so soon..
“I'm sure it's no different with him dear, time slipping as if it were water. I’ve always found that intolerable myself.”
His eyes met with her arctic blue, slowing his breath as not to interrupt his piqued heart. “Is that so?”
Now, her gaze drifted to the pattern of white tiles beneath them, eyes beginning to trace the thin lines of grout as she tried to find the words caught in her throat.
Short and quiet, she laughed as memories began to play, “Ofcourse, it always seemed to happen most often when I was with your father. He’d go on and on about how time was his worst enemy when my curfew was up, I’d laugh, agreeing with him..”
Mom didn't talk about him often, she always did when he asked but after awhile he stopped. Every time he would ask her, she’d get this look, one he hated to see on her, but this one— was different.
Instead of a dark sheen casting deep in her eyes, they were glossed with a shine, not tears, something more. He didn't think of his father often, wasn't a reason too. But In times like this that law was stretched thin. He became more than just a thought or memory, he became his Dad, his Mom’s husband, and parent.
“Are you Hungry? It’s still relatively early, I might make pancakes in a bit, want some?” She disappeared into the kitchen, voice rising in decibels.
His thoughts faded and sight focused back, like magic, his stomach cried out in hunger. “Please,” he muttered, making his way up the carpeted stairs as his hand glided along the wood railing.
If he’s lucky and gets these blueprints done today, he could ask Stanley to come over and help. The work needed isn't all that strenuous, but rather tedious and repetitive. Having Stanley there contributing or not, is always quite fun whether he was needed or not.
Heart quietly fastening, he shut the door behind him with his foot. Beams of sunlight intruded past the window, warming the placid air with the scent of a freshly lit candle recently extinguished. Shoes kicked off and scent flying, Xeno’s bag slid off and fell against the leg of his desk. With haste, the chair scraped the wood floor with resistance as he yanked it free.
Science was acupuncture to his mind, it took over in waves, trampling over any previous thoughts and pulling his attention solely on the task at hand. It was freeing.
Rummaging through his bag he fished for his papers, hoisting them into the air like a prized fish. Amidst the bundle of blueprints and roughdrafts, a paper trickled down, falling with graceful poise until the floor interrupted it.
It caught his eye instantly. Wrinkled and creased, the pink paper was bare, various small sized hearts took up the corner. How had he not noticed this outlier? The color alone made it stick out like a sore thumb, not to mention the size difference.
Was it accidentally grabbed? It could be Stanleys, but why would he own such tasteless paper?
Clearing his questions and deepening hypothesis, he stretched down towards the paper, fingers curling into thin bark as he resurfaced back with it.
The little paper looked more like it belonged to a girl writing out her feelings. And maybe that's what it is. Stanley received it, read it, then dismissed it. His carelessness for the confession allowed it to end up under the bed where in turn xeno must have grabbed it by accident in his early morning daze.
Of course! That explains everything. In a shaky exhale, he internally laughed at the nerves that had begun to rile up his system. Nothing more than a false alarm.
Interest still seething, he flipped the paper to its backside, finally revealing the contents it hid.
Momentarily, his lungs stopped their intake, heart waiting for the brain's response as it overheated taking in every word as if it were a complex equation.
Dried tears waved the paper in small circular craters in their memory. Letters had distorted where they had met with the salty tears. Neat and precise, the words were etched deep.
Xeno, every day when you walk past, my lungs freeze and my heart beats so violently it shakes my being. What shrivels dead inside knowing that I cannot be with you regrows each time you smile. I love that it's there; but hate the gut wrenching twist each time my mind reminds my heart your hands will never be mine. The only cure is to give my all to you, even if you won't accept it. And for that, forever yours— Stanley.
His heartbeat bounced against his ribs, ears echoing the sound. Dramatic and written with flair, his eyes couldn't leave the signature that burned each time his gaze fell on it. Following every dip and strike, it was no doubt Stanley's.
Silence was loud in his mind, it was empty as he reread the words again, and again until he could recite it from memory. Grip tight on the paper, his nails almost pierced through the thin note.
He practically saw through it as if the paper was some figment of his imagination, or a cruel joke from his brain due to the lack of sleep.
Thumb gliding across the soft material, his brows lowered, moonless night colored eyes tunneling in with precision.
Everything told him Stanley didn't write this, he wasn't the type. Stanley wasn't an affectionate person nor a romantic. Or maybe— he was, and Xeno didn't take the time to notice. That crushed his chest even thinking that. He would notice Stanley's acts of love, right?
A clock ticked internally, slow, persistence, marking each increase of his heartbeat. He cried for this, Xeno has never seen him cry— not once. Actually, that was false, the only time he could remember was 3 years ago on the dot.
It wasn't because he got hurt, it wasn't for himself at all. Later in the day working in his garage, a breath in the wrong direction, movement too quick, a simple miscalculation set off the reactive liquid. He knew it was a possibility, didn't think it applied to him; he was too experienced for such a novice mistake.
Naivety proved him wrong; science does not care, it can punish all the same.
Eyes leisurely cracking free, the stale white room, bright light, and constant beeb made his head pulse with painful throbs. Outside, peaking through the curtain slit, night was deep in its routine. Beside him, low hushful sobs were faint. He weakly let his head fall towards the sound, eyes widening in surprise at the sight.
Golden locks unbrushed in wild waves, tears poured as he sniffled snot. They didn't say anything to each other for a while, both watched in concern as the stubborn noise of the machines tick off the seconds passed.
Later, when Xeno had gotten better, Britney told him the full story.
During the still of night, a call jostled her from her sleep with panic as Xeno’s mom couldn't find her words. Eventually, through her tears, she told Becky about the explosion, burns, and ambulance.
She raced to Stanley's room, barging in without a knock, voice grave and unwavering he shot up at her words. “Stanley, Xeno’s in the Hospital.”
Pacing down the stairs, slowing her breathing to focus, Stan, still in his Gun Pyjamas, slipped on his house slippers and followed right after her, deathly quite all the same.
The car ride there was nothing but the racing sound of the engine giving its all as she sped and weaved through. They pulled in the parking lot in hushed victory, no ticket and all in one piece.
Long story short, after they met with his mom, they went and saw him, but only Stan stayed. In the solace of that room, hiding in the quiet, that's when Stanley finally let his tears break free.
He should have noticed then, but instead, he overlooked it as a caring act.
A warm flush burned his ears and reddened his cheeks, breathing becoming more labored with each inhale. Low, meant only for himself, he whispered his name, “Stanley.”
It felt different on his tongue, sounded unlike. Guilt ripped through his skin and went straight to his heart mercilessly. Swallowing the butterflies back down and twisting remorse beginning to claw out, he folded the note neatly and slid it in his pocket.
He had to see Stanley, now, today, the next second, somehow— he had to ask..