Work Text:
Berdly was no genius unaided, but after Mr. Holiday’s fall, he thought he knew what to expect from Noelle. Worry. Tears, perhaps. Something solace or assistance might… soothe, if only briefly— if she’d tolerate his proximity, now, with no lasting motive.
Instead, he found Noelle kneeling alone in the hospital lobby, trying to tear the communal sliding bead toy apart with her bare hands.
“Noelle, what are you—”
“Hi, Berdly!” chirped Noelle, still wrestling with the children’s toy. The wooden beads rattled on their wires. “Are you here about our project?”
“Heavens, no—”
“I did some more research, you know. I’ll send you the notes.”
The offer to bring dinner—Noelle and her mother couldn’t have eaten yet—died in Berdly’s throat as Noelle went on like nothing was wrong. God, she was even smiling.
“Actually, why don’t you come over tomorrow? We can work on the presentation…”
Past the hallway doors, Mayor Holiday demanded the doctors try harder. Noelle kept smiling— like she’d replaced her face with a robot one.
Berdly’s bad wing burned in its sling.
“Oh, and review Monday’s math homework together.”
Noelle stepped on the toy’s base, grabbed its colourful wires, and yanked. Her shoulders hunched, straining against the glue binding wood to steel.
Still, she smiled, bright and artificial as the ceiling lights’ warmth.
“Same as always, right, Berdly?”
The correct answer—the smart answer—waited on Berdly’s tongue. He swallowed it down, stomach lurching, and reached into his shirt pocket.
Was helping Noelle destroy hospital property without even knowing why a stupid decision? Yes. Absolutely. Indubitably.
But if that dream had taught Berdly anything…
“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, offering his multitool.
Sometimes the stupid choice was the better one.
Noelle looked up, eyes shining. The familiar smile finally twitched.
“Don’t you?”