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The moment Dagda got into the car and attached his seatbelt, Custas announced, “I need help making chocolates for tomorrow.”
Dagda’s hand froze halfway toward the ignition. He reached further over instead to turn the radio down immediately. With a quiet exhale, he glanced to where Custas was, actively refusing to meet his gaze, his cheeks already burning from everything that happened from the club after school. “… You need help doing what?”
“Making chocolates for tomorrow,” Custas repeated. He tugged his backpack into his lap, pretending to fiddle with the zippers as he elaborated, “Tomorrow at school is some sort of holiday. Agott told me that you’re supposed to give chocolates to people you like, but then she also said the chocolates don’t really count unless you make them yourself.”
Dagda continued staring at him for another few tense seconds, unblinking which made the bags under his eyes more apparent. Then, finally, he asked with a forming crooked grin, “You have a crush on someone?”
“‘Like’ in general!” Custas exclaimed immediately, already knowing where that conversation was heading and nope, I’m not going to tell Dagda about him! “People give them to friends too; it’s not just crushes.”
Dagda hummed, nodding along as he started up the van. Custas could already see his attempt to repress a smile and how shitty that was going. “Don’t.”
“I said nothing.” Well, he sure looks like he has a lot to say! Custas turned to stare out his window and release the heat building in his face with a defeated sigh, but then Dagda spoke up again. “So, who is it for?”
I can not tell him that. “I-It’s just someone– you don’t know them.” Saved!
“Is it for Tartah?”
“No!” Custas exclaimed, squeezing his bag tight. He laughed, tight and forced as he reached for the radio, already turning up whatever oldies rock Dagda had on before he got in. “Can you imagine if I gave Tartah chocolates? He’d probably blush so hard, he’d faint! He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.”
Dagda hummed. “Sounds like he’d be happy then.”
Custas stubbornly refused to look at him, and Dagda eventually said, “Look, here’s our current circumstances: neither of us know how to make chocolate and we also don’t have a kitchen.”
“We could ask the front desk lady again, like when she let us use their microwave when ours busted.”
“Yeah, but we’d need supplies and utensils— and likely more than just a microwave. No hotel has chocolate ingredients lying around– whatever those are.”
Custas slumped back in his seat with visible frustration, crossing his arms. “But I don’t want to bring store-bought chocolates.”
“Why not? We can splurge on a nicer brand.
“Because everyone else is going to do that about the people they don’t care as much about. If I buy something normal, it’s like I didn’t even care to do better at all.”
Dagda pursed his lips, then made a sudden turn left with a belated turn signal. Custas braced himself against the door at the harsh tug, then straightened as Dagda, resting one hand against the steering wheel and the other running against the stubble on his cheek in thought, sighed with theatrical resignation. “I suppose we can stop at the store and investigate what becomes possible with our limited resources.”
Custas sat up, smiling as he uttered, “Really? We can?”
“Really,” Dagda confirmed. “Though I should warn you that our odds of producing anything elegant are fairly low. We can still look at the candy aisle to see if something looks more promising to you.”
Custas shook his head quickly. “They don’t have to be perfect.” When Dagda raised an eyebrow at him, Custas added, “They just have to be something homemade so he knows.”
The drive to the store was uneventful as it mostly consisted of occasional teasing laments about how Custas is now all grown up, how it was sweet he wanted to impress someone– Custas let him have his fun, having caught the sight of his softened eyes looking at him twice, each time without that usual fret and weariness. He’s sure Dagda was secretly happy this is what Custas came home with instead of an infraction slip, a poor grade, or a grumble about how school was ‘whatever’ today. He’s sure this is the life normal kids had: worrying about crushes and giving tokens to them while being an awkward kid about it because love was something new and weird at this age. It wasn’t a fairytale cartoon where you kissed and all was settled because love is always returned… Especially in Custas’ case. He leaned his cheek on the window, staring out at the strip mall they rolled past when he felt a pat on his knee.
“Don’t worry. We’ll make something good. I feel it in my bones the more I think about it.”
Unloading the chair at the grocery store was obnoxious. The handicap parking was taken up now that the post-school/work rush was in full swing, so Dagda had to find a place near the back where no one would park too close to Custas’ door lest he be unable to get back in once they were done shopping.
Dagda pushed him to the front to quicken their pace– He didn’t like Custas in the street anymore since the incident despite his wheelchair likely being enough to damage a car quite a bit if impacted— he’d still be injured. Dagda wanted less of that when possible.
Once inside, they slowed near the entrance so Custas could take hold of his wheels and adjust better. Dagda rested a hand on the back of his chair regardless, like a parent steering their child’s shoulder to keep them straight. “So, the candy aisle then?”
Custas shook his head. "The baking aisle."
Dagda looked doubtful, eyebrows furrowed as he said, "Why the baking aisle?"
"Because we're making the chocolate. You said–"
“No, we are making it– that’s fine. I just don't think chocolate is baked."
Custas turned around in his seat to stare at him. "Of course you bake it. You put it in the oven like cookies."
"You aren't helping your case as much as you think you are: you bake cookies because of the risk of salmonella… The chocolate does harden again though..."
Custas rolled his eyes. The argument continued as they made their way farther into the store, neither possessing enough knowledge about cooking to actually support their position beyond vague confidence and nitpicking the others' thoughts. They passed produce, household supplies, and an entire aisle devoted to snacks that they both paused to look longingly down (maybe Custas could convince him to get takeout tonight…) before both finally accepted that they had absolutely no idea what they were doing. Fortunately, there was an employee who was stocking shelves nearby.
"Excuse me," Dagda cut in, "do you know where… chocolate making supplies would be? For making chocolates at home— preferably the easiest kind of chocolate? Maybe if you have a home kit or something in store?”
The employee blinked, the daze of shelf-stocking grinds coming to a halt for a brief moment before he muttered, “You mean like chocolate melts? That’s in the baking aisle.”
Custas twisted around fast, but Dagda was already walking to the aisle, knowing damn well his son– “Dagda, sorry, I didn’t catch what he said. What aisle was that?”
"I know you heard her."
"The baking aisle?"
“Uh-huh."
Custas sang out, tone dripping with self-satisfaction, "The aisle I suggested. You know, in case you forgot.”
Dagda sighed, craning his neck up toward the ceiling in retaliation before he walked back to his son. He stooped down to be eye-level with him, his deadpan expression almost stone-like as they stared at one another for a full three seconds before Dagda grinned and ruffled Custas’ hair. “My smart boy, I–”
“Stop that!” Custas scowled, batting his hand away with a fierce blush. He took his wheels and flew down the main aisle, ducking his head to avoid the strangers now openly watching Dagda follow after him, doing that good-old-fashioned father-son embarrassment behavior before singing along openly along with the overhead speakers, manipulating a song about love to be about how cool his son was— he was the epitome of awful!
Custas turned roughly into the baking aisle, ears red as he heard Dagda laugh, following him down. When the found themselves standing before the baking melts and molds, his singing died to upbeat hums, his hands drumming against his legs as he inspected what options they had. He finally selected one of the melt bags, drawing it close to his face to read before he smacked the plastic with the back of his hand.
“Ha! See here?” He leaned down, pointing at the little instructions. Before Custas could even try reading it, Dagda said, “We just need a mug and a microwave for this one– Nothing else! It’s a pretty decent price too. We can get dark and white chocolate, maybe find something we can put inside of it too. How does that sound?”
Custas beamed, reaching out and grabbing a white chocolate from the shelf alongside one of the molds– it was between circular truffle shapes, squares, or hearts, and he was only glad Dagda didn’t tease him at the one he picked out. It was fitting for the occasion!
They found a sizable mug in a different aisle– They possessed mostly plastic cups or drive-thru paper-thin ones they washed and refilled as needed. Dagda said they wouldn’t last long in a microwave, but their collection of wrapped fastfood utensils would be fine compared to buying an entire cutlery set. When it came to fillings, Custas spotted a candy that gave him an idea.
“Can we maybe put pretzel pieces in them?” Custas asked. Dagda helped him find them, but then as they held the way-too-big pretzels for the candies, another idea came to mind.
“We’d need to break these up small, so it will be difficult getting them to stay in while we are melting the chocolate around and over it. What if we put it in a jam or peanut butter?”
“Peanut butter pretzel chocolate sounds good,” Custas agreed, eyes widening at the thought. His chest warmed, envisioning them complete as they set about finding the last ingredient. Chocolates were good, but unique ones with homemade filling? No one has to have something as good as that tomorrow! Custas’s chocolates will be all Tartah can focus on!
When they got home, Dagda set about washing everything while Custas rolled tiny balls of crushed pretzels and peanut butter together. It was a sticky, unfortunate mess, and Dagda stepped in to help heat the chocolate and pour the first bit, them both deciding it was best to just have Custas handle the messiness since he was already coated in peanut butter smears across his forearm and wrists.
By the time they finished, both of them were leaning over the molds inspecting them like they knew how to fix any mistake they made. The chocolates were hardly perfect: A few were bulging at the top with only a thin layer of chocolate covering the peanut butter. Still, they all popped out nicely when they were hard enough to release without pulling. Custas went to the front desk as they sat on the desk in the room, returning minutes later with a little paper bag the front desk had to give. When he returned, Custas picked one up carefully, gasping as he regalled, “They actually look like real chocolates! They look so good!”
Custas immediately began arranging them as best as he could in the bag, kicking himself for not thinking of a better packaging. The best things come in unexpected forms, right? Once they were all inside, aside from two for their hardwork– Custas wadded the top up to secure it, then stuffed it into his backpack so he wouldn’t forget it.
“Quality control,” Dagda nodded sagely as Custas gave him one. They both bit into theirs at once, biting down the center to ensure the middle settled fine and his eyes gleamed once the flavors landed on his tongue.
“So good!” He cried, ignoring the pretzel bit that fell from his lips as he tossed the other half in his mouth. Well, if music never panned out for him, he could be a professional baker! Tartah was going to flip out once he’s had a taste of these! He’s going to be all like, “Oh, Custas, you made these for me? I didn’t realize you were such a skilled artisan; do you… want to go out with me?”
Pumping his fist in the air, Custas exclaimed, “Thank you, thank you! He’s going to be so happy!”
Custas arrived at school far earlier than necessary, already knowing Tartah was usually there insanely early anyways. Dagda didn’t mind, though he did laugh every time Custas opened his backpack to make sure the chocolates were still there, safe, and once just because he was so excited. There was too much riding on this to be stopped by school crowds, and he was thankful the entrance was a ghost town when he arrived. He wheeled to the front only to jump when he spotted Agott standing by the front door, a pink bowed gift in her hands.
“Good morning,” Custas greeted as he slapped the aid buttons. Agott startled as though she was dozing off, then nodded.
“Oh, good morning, Custas.” She followed him through the other door after holding it open for him. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, noting the lack of excitement and… Hadn’t she told him it was today? Why was she bummed? Was Coco sick or something? Before he could ask, he noticed her attention drifting elsewhere. Agott kept glancing toward the entrance and then away again, her expression unusually tense…. So, she was waiting for Coco? Then why look so serious!
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
He blinked, awaiting further, but when she settled on that, he shrugged and zipped open his bag. "Well, I have something exciting."
Agott looked mildly concerned, and that was usually a fair response to hearing those words from Custas especially after the incident in which they met, but Custas grinned and pulled the gift bag from his backpack. Immediately, Agott's eyes widened. “Who gave you chocolates?"
Custas blinked. He tilted his head. "Huh? I made these."
Agott stared. "You… made them?"
"... Yeah?"
There was a brief pause, then confusion crossed her face, chasing away all the anxiety and nerves she seemed to have when she was waiting by the door. If anything, that made Custas more unsettled himsel. "Why?"
Custas placed them back in his bag with a suspicious look sent her way. "To give to someone. Why, what’s wrong with that? I tried them: they don’t taste funny or anything."
"Ah. Okay. Well,” Agott paused, chewing her lip before gently nudging forward with a hushed, “Today is the day girls give chocolates to boys. Boys don’t give out chocolates until a month later.”
Custas smiled, brow twitching as he replied, “Okay?” Agott stood there, waiting as Custas’ smile slowly disappeared. “Oh… I didn't know that." He glanced down at the bag, shoulders sinking as he thought of his sticky fingers and the store visit, the joy of seeing them done– “Is it… weird if I give someone chocolates today?”
“... A little,” Agott unhelpfully added. “It’s just not typical, but I’m sure whoever you give them to will be happy nonetheless. Truly, forget I mentioned anything at all.”
How could he forget that? He was about to look like an utter idiot in front of Tartah, probably get laughed at for— He hid his face in his hands, groaning into his palms. Before he could recover from his steaming embarrassment, footsteps approaching them sounded off from the corridor. Custas glanced between his fingers, catching the moment reddish hair came into view, the scent of freshly printed papers, a glint of round, bookish glasses– Custas slammed his bag shut, aggressively zipping it up as Agott took a deliberate step away, stiff as a board while Tartah approached them with caution compared to his previous sure-footed gait.
“Good… morning?” Tartah ventured, coming to a stop to form a little triangle of space between them.
“Morning!” Custas exclaimed, and— god, he did not look innocent at all. He hung his head, shaking it as Tartah eyed him, leaning a little away from the loud noise.
“... Did I interrupt something?” Tartah asked, an uncomfortable, well-meaning laugh on his tongue. Then his silver eyes dropped to Custas’ bag, which Custas splayed his hands over to almost try and cover it from view. It was a sorry attempt, but Tartah backed off with his brows just barely raised, and he glanced to Agott before looking back to Custas. He gave a meek nod toward his hands. Tartah sighed through his nose, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I see.”
Tartah adjusted the papers in his arms before announcing, “Well, whatever is happening, I should get these to Mr. Nolnoa before school starts. I’ll see you two later?”
“Actually,” Agott interrupted, then pursed her lips when both of the boys' attention settled on her. Her lips parted, eyes darting longingly to the outside doors, then she balled her hands and announced, “I have to take care of something for class too, so I must leave immediately. So... I will see you two later.”
Without waiting for further interrogation, she offered a quick, awkward wave and began walking down the hallway with increasing speed and an awkward, stiff walk. Custas watched with some undue exasperation at the odd excuse, then glanced up to find Tartah also watching her, confusion and bewilderment clear.
“Well, she’s acting weird today. I am beginning to think everyone knows something I don’t,” Tartah admitted after a moment, shifting the stack of papers against his chest, knuckles almost white. He frowned, shifting on his feet once. “Did I forget anything? No one is upset with me, right?”
“N-No!” Custas cut in, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t do anything. She’s just– she didn’t get much sleep, that’s all. She’s fine, I promise. You’re… You’re all good.”
Tartah let out an uncertain hum before starting to turn away, clearly intent on continuing his responsibilities before the bell rang, but the movement triggered something deep in Custas’ chest because– well, fuck, he was given an opportunity before school with no one in sight, and even if he looked like a dumbass, at least it was only to Tartah! Who also happened to be his crush! Great!
“Tartah,” Custas squeaked, and he tensed when Tartah paused mid-step and glanced back over his shoulder with patient curiosity. Custas wheezed out a breath and pulled open his backpack. With shaking fingers, he forced the zipper open and proceeded to tug out the paper bag. He held it out, cheeks burning as Tartah had to shift around his papers to take it.
Tartah looked at the bag for a long moment, twisting it in his hand in his inspection before glancing at Custas, then back at the bag again. A small, careful smile formed on his face as he said, “Oh, I didn’t realize. That’s very kind of Agott. I will be more careful next time; I’m sorry.”
Custas blinked rapidly, then shoved the bag back when Tartah tried to set it down in his lap again. “No, no, no! This is for you!”
Tartah’s nose scrunched immediately, the confusion returning as he tried to follow the correction. “... Agott wanted you to give these to me? Why?”
“They are not from Agott,” Custas gushed, moments from pulling out his own hair in frustration of having to lay it out for him. “I made them for–” He needed to be wheeled out into the street again. “I made them for you, um, yesterday, but I’m not like a chocolate expert, so they might be really bad— but I think they are good! Just wanted to give my pal chocolates! My buddy. Friend. Chocolates.”
He cringed, wiping a hand down his face as he added in as best as he could, “But they are homemade, so… do with that what you will, I guess.”
He didn’t notice any shift in the air, no cherry blossoms falling into view, but he did hear the stark change in Tartah''s voice as he asked, softer than before, “You made these for me?”
“Yeah, there's pretzels and peanut butter in them. I hope you like them.” After a long pause, Tartah carefully brought the bag back up. He opened it after a moment to look inside and Custas wondered that even if he couldn’t see color, if he knew what he looked like when he blushed. Maybe the heart shape mold was a bit too far… But then, shortly following his crush’s beet red face, was a small, sweet smile, the one he had when trying to be subdued despite his excitement. Custas’ chest ached at how pretty he could be looking so happy and unknowing of what to do with himself.
“I have never received handmade chocolates before,” he said honestly, his thumb brushing lightly over the unfolded edge at the top of the bag. He cleared his throat as he crumpled the top again to secure it. “You said they were friend chocolates?”
Custas’ groaned internally: for half a second he considered pretending that that was the intention after being thrown one last bone to make the right choice, but he's come this far already. He doesn't want to lie to Tartah. If he rejects him, whatever. Plenty of fish in the sea, afterall, as he’s heard on the hotel tv’s soaps. It’s just that he wants to have this specific fish.
“They are ‘I like you’ chocolates.”
Tartah’s cheeks grew darker. His lips sputtered over the nothingness garble that left him, but then he gushed, “Boys aren’t— I’m supposed to wait a month before I respond to this.”
Custas licked his lips, then nodded, “That’s okay! I don’t mind; I didn’t… I just wanted you to have it.”
Tartah nodded along like he wasn’t even listening, eyes looking toward the direction of the office despite having to go upstairs soon to deliver the papers. “Well– I can do that too, but can I— could I now as well?”
… He had chocolates for Custas too? Custas sat up in his chair, eyes falling only to realize Tartah didn’t have his bag on him. Did he forget it upstairs? That’s fine; it’s not like they always saw each other in the morning before class started. Perhaps he would run and grab it while Custas waited for him. Maybe he could convince Tartah to let him accompany him so they’d be closer to class and Custas wouldn’t run the risk of being late. He placed his hands on the wheels, then paused as Tartah took a step in front of him.
Custas glanced up, then leaned back in surprise when he noticed Tartah leaning down, and his eyebrows drew close with belated confusion until he saw Tartah’s trembling hand as it settled on the arm of his chair. A warm squirming sensation filled Custas’ stomach that erupted further when he saw Tartah’s puckered lips. He pressed his hands down onto his chair, asserting strength into his legs– it burned, it stung– He’s been in PT for months, swimming, walking with Dagda guiding him by the hands in preparation to be able to stand and walk again, but now they trembled? Right now was the moment he had to be buckling? Really? If he’s been putting in all this work, at least let him have just this moment!
Pushing himself up as much as he could, he leaned in–
A group of students spilled into the hallway, a stone thrown into a calm, still pool. They jolted apart, Custas falling back into his chair with a wince as his legs burned, upset with the sudden movement. He hissed under his breath as Tartah jolted away, face gone as white as a ghost as if he was caught doing something they shouldn't have been. Goody two shoes, Custas thought fondly as Tartah gasped.
“A-Are you alright?” He snatched his hand back to his chest as though the chair arm had bitten him. Custas rubbed his leg with one of his hands, sending a meek smile upward.
“Y-Yeah, just moved too fast. I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” Even so, Tartah set his bag and papers down in Custas’ lap. He grabbed hold of his chair and moved him out of the flow of student traffic and to the side of a wall that they hugged to avoid getting in the way. Custas barely had a second to mourn the loss of his almost first kiss. If it wasn’t for the muted pain, he might have tried to brush it off, suggest something suave like asking to continue this after school or finding a table alone at lunch, a harder task–
But as it stood, Custas felt sick and reluctant to move much beyond his arms and Tartah looked rattled and nervous with the students flooding in around him. Oh well. He completed his mission in giving him the chocolates, and Tartah appeared to be very happy about that. Custas smiled to himself, accepting his win. Looking up at him from the corner of his eyes, Custas hummed teasingly, “Were you about toooo-”
“No,” Tartah squeaked, pitched and quick compared to how he spoke before. He rubbed a hand under his eyes, pushing his glasses up in the process. “I mean– yes, but we aren’t— Ugh.” With that, Tartah brought his hand up. He pressed two fingers to his lips, his face red and straying eyes shy as he then reached out and gently touched his fingers to Custas’ cheek. When he let his hand fall back to his side, he looked every bit as flustered as Custas felt, though he was grinning like a shark compared to Tartah’s fond, yet exasperated sigh, then took his things back from Custas. As he collected his things, he muttered, “I’ll do it properly later.” But before Custas could really process that and asked when, Tartah resumed his old responsibilities he almost let slip. “I should deliver these before Mr. Nolnoa starts looking for me.”
Custas whistled. “I'll see you in class.”
“I’ll see you.” Tartah smiled at him one final time before turning the front stairs. Custas watched him go until he disappeared around the corner, then settled back in his chair. He’d need to rush to class or he was going to be late. He sat there, then raised his hand, curling it into a fist and pumping it in the air once in victory.
“Yes!”