And I don't know if it's true, but I keep it for good luck

The air buzzed with excitement at the annual Pumpkin Palooza as Marisol Hargrove glided through the crowd, her red dress swirling around her. She was a captivating figure and she knew it, her dark hair framing a playful smile that hinted at mischief. She was her mother's daughter - a woman meant to be on the outskirts of town and not welcomed by the respectable ladies - but she loved proving them all wrong.

“Remember that the magic only works for tonight!” she called, holding one carefully carved pumpkin high over her head. “They’re known to make you lucky —or lead you to some magical mischief. Just be careful which pumpkin you choose - you'll only be able to open one -- and last year, someone tried to have two, and they ended up dreaming of talking cats for a week! Find a pumpkin, make a wish and maybe it'll come true.”

With a wink, she beckoned curious festival-goers closer. “Care to join me on a pumpkin hunt? I promise, it'll be fun." For the witches present, they would know that she had infused the pumpkins with little touches of magic - the prizes inside were small simple things she had gotten from the vendors. A trial size of honey. A candy bar. A small toy. But all pumpkins had a little bit of luck and happiness. She set the pumpkin down next to her.

As Marisol gathered a gaggle of excited children and intrigued adults, she pointed toward the sprawling pumpkin patch. “We have pumpkins for everyone! Some are filled with playful tricks, others hold sweet treats, and a few rare ones contain something truly special! Who knows what you'll find.”

The crowd buzzed with anticipation. “Ready, set, go! Remember to check each pumpkin carefully. Some might look ordinary but could surprise you! Let’s see who can find the coolest treasure!”

Laughter erupted as everyone raced into the patch, eager to discover what lay hidden inside the carved wonders. Marisol stood back, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “Don’t forget to share your finds with me! I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures!”

Alas, today was not one of those days. He already had a pumpkin painted on his cheek, and everyone was acting like a kid today anyway. Who cared if he did too? While Ocean knew eventually he'd come back to his senses and realized he'd acted like a fool, right now he didn't care - he wanted to play the game. So when the woman called out it was time, he raced into the patch, letting that childlike energy fill him.

Several minutes later, Ocean came rushing back to the woman with a pumpkin, one that held a small vial of pumpkin honey. "How did you do all of this?" Ocean asked, smiling, his face a little red from exertion rather than embarrassment. "It must have taken forever." Ocean wondered if she had used magic, but he didn't know how to ask that nonchalantly.

Aris Locke stood by the pumpkin carving station, casually eyeing the maze as he absentmindedly scratched the head of a small tortie-patterned kitten nestled in his jacket. The kitten, who he had only recently adopted, had already made herself at home, curling up and watching the world go by with wide, curious eyes.

As he scanned the crowd, his gaze landed on Ocean. A grin spread across Aris' face as he remembered the milkshake incident. Ocean had been trying to save a cat, strangers thought they could feel up Aris' bike when it had tipped over. Ocean had sacrificed his milkshake to keep Aris' bike from being damaged. Just like that - a friendship had been born. Aris had laughed, offered to buy him another one—what were friends for, after all?

Aris sauntered over, the kitten poking her head out of his jacket, watching everything with sharp green eyes. Aris strolled up to Ocean, careful to keep the other man's back to him before he tapped him on the shoulder. The playful grin he wore mirroring their last meeting. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite cat-hero,” he teased. “You recovered from that motorbike ride yet, or still feeling the wind in your hair?”

He lifted the kitten out of his coat to show her off to Ocean. "Before you ask, this was the natural cat distribution system. I found her under the jeep. I thought we'd hang out today and see if she wants to stay around." She meowed as if agreeing with Aris and deciding he was going to stay with her. "I've been told by everyone that a motorbike in one of the rainiest states in the united states wasn't smart - so I have a jeep. You're safe from the bike until summer."

A few minutes later, Ocean was walking around the festival, looking at the pumpkin carving station. Back on the commune, his family had carved them every year, and a nostalgic warmth started to glow inside him at the memory. Briefly Ocean contemplated carving one, but he knew it would probably look stupid anyway, plus he was starting to feel out of place here. These are what normal people are like, Ocean thought, deciding he didn't fit in. But really did he fit in anywhere?

Ocean was having a bad day, self-esteem wise that is, even by his standards. That was the whole reason he was here anyway, to try and snap out of his funk. Sometimes he got like this, got so down on himself that it felt like he could never dig out of his low mood, and Ocean had hoped the festival would help lighten his spirits. But so far all it had done was make Ocean feel worse. Just as he had decided to go home, Ocean felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see a familiar face there. "Oh, his Aristotle," Ocean greeted the man, caught off-guard. He had enjoyed their time together, riding his motorcycle and having milkshakes, and Ocean hadn't even felt awkward by the end of it (though of course he analyzed everything he had said and done once he'd gotten home). But Ocean doubted Aristotle would want to see him again, yet here he was seeking him out. It made Ocean smile, forgetting all about the pumpkin on his cheek and the negative thoughts in his head - for the moment at least.

"It really was windy," Ocean agreed with a bright smile, laughing. "But I liked it. It was...thrilling. I forgot how fun motorcycles could be." Ocean himself had never learned to drive even a car, let alone a motorcycle, but being a passenger was fun, he remembered now. Blushing slightly at Aristotle's words, Ocean countered, "I'm no cat hero, remember? I didn't even save the cat." It had saved itself really, finding its owner; Ocean had had nothing to do with that. But any further argument he might have had was lost completely once Ocean saw the kitten. "Oh my gosh, it's so cute!" he exclaimed, so immediately smitten with the little one that Ocean forgot to keep him emotions in check. A second later he remembered, a temporary lapse in self-control, but Ocean was still so enamored with the kitten. "I think it's meant to be, you two," he told Aristotle. Ocean reached out to pet the kitten, asking, "Do you have a name for her yet?" And then an idea came to him, one that made Ocean nervous, one he decided to voice before he could mentally talk himself out of it: "How about we get some pumpkin soup together and see what we can come up with?" Ocean suggested with a tentative smile.

Corey's heart ached for Ocean, which struck him with the strongest sensation of surprise for multiple reasons. He couldn't believe that he could feel so strongly for someone who was practically a stranger, and he also couldn't believe that he felt so strongly for someone for a reason that he shared with them. Was Corey himself deserving of the same type of heartache? Did he also deserve to have a stranger feel like they needed to look out for him and help better his life? They were all big questions, questions that Corey had to push from his mind as he knew he didn't have the time or the space to contemplate such facts whilst at work. "I'm glad you stopped doing that; maybe you could start a new list, one that contains all the good things you've ever done. I'm sure I could think of some things you could put on that list already."

"Are you kidding me? I think your name suits you perfectly," Corey told him. "Firstly, it's like, a direct representation of your eyes - they remind me of the ocean," not that Corey had seen the ocean too much in person before. "Oh wow," Corey was shocked again as he heard of Ocean's commune history. "I can't imagine being around that many people growing up," he laughed, feeling a strange sensation of envy come up as he wondered whether or not he'd have had a better life with company and community surrounding him. "It sounds nice, though," he decided, speaking of the commune. "Weird? Nah, I don't think Ocean is a weird name. Unique, sure, but weird isn't the word I'd use to describe it." To Corey, the word 'weird' implied 'bad' - perhaps because he had been called weird so much in a negative manner - but Corey thought there wasn't a single bad thing about Ocean to be found so far.

"I know what you mean," Corey related to the other. "But I don't think you're right about yourself; I think it's super easy for us to be our own harshest critics, but I don't think we're necessarily deserving of any of the shit we give ourselves," he was a total hypocrite, saying all of this without following any of his own advice, continuing to hate himself quite severely. "I think it might just take meeting the right people who remind you of how great you are when you're getting all down about yourself," Corey greatly hoped that Ocean could find those people.

The comment about his eyes made Ocean blush, but not in an embarrassed way. The compliment caught him off-guard, but it was nice, and this was one thing he had never been able to find fault in...which was probably because his eyes were one of the few things Aaron had genuinely complimented. Ocean hated that so much of his self-worth was tied into how Aaron had seen him, but this wasn't exactly a new revelation. "Thank you," Ocean replied softly. "That's really nice of you to say. But that's just one ocean-like thing." He wasn't going to fall too deeply down this hole he was digging, wasn't going to hash out all the ways he was the opposite of an ocean. More than likely, that would make Corey regret ever talking to him, though maybe he already did. After all, Ocean had sort of forced this on him.

Talking about the commune always made Ocean a little nervous because he never knew how people would react. He hated when they compared it to a cult for instance or thought it was weird. It wasn't weird, just different, and people weren't always open-minded about it. Luckily it appeared as though Corey wasn't one of those people, and Ocean smiled at the man's response. "It was nice," Ocean confirmed. "Everyone there really loves each other, so I was always with people who cared about me. It was hard to leave, but...it was harder to stay." Ocean didn't elaborate, but he had known without a doubt that leaving was the right thing to do, at least for now. Corey was being so nice to Ocean right now, and he smiled at the comment. "Thanks for that," Ocean replied. "Now if only everyone I've met agreed with you or at least kept their opinions to themselves."

On the one hand, Ocean felt like Corey had a point, but he asked, "What if most - if not all - of the people in your life are kind and loving and telling you how much you're worth, but you're still always being hard on yourself? What if you can't stop hating everything about yourself no matter all the kind things people say?" That had been the case for Ocean back at the commune, and even now, everyone he met in Cardinal Hill had been so nice all the time. Corey was a perfect example of that, telling Ocean all these kind things about himself, trying to make him feel better, but it didn't change how he felt. "It's like I can never believe what other people tell me," Ocean told Corey. "Funny because if someone were to point out all my flaws, I'd believe those without question." Ocean knew this was a problem, but just because he knew that didn't mean he knew how to change it.

Part of Ocean wished he hadn't said anything about the spell, worried he'd upset Corey. "No, it's okay!" he insisted. "I'm not mad, and I understand why you wouldn't have said anything. Some people are really distrustful of magic, and it's not like you were doing a big spell that could have backfired terribly. You were just trying to help." He noticed the way Corey couldn't meet his eyes, and wow, it was like Ocean was looking into a mirror with this man (not physically though because Corey was much more attractive than he was). They were just so alike. "Hey," Ocean said softly, resting his hand on the man's forearm. "Don't be upset, okay? Please. I grew up with witches, so this definitely isn't the first time someone has used magic to mend a cut or scrape or something. That practically happened weekly when I was a kid." His mom had always been healing her children back when they were young and rambunctious. He examined his finger, seeing the cut was healed, just a tiny scar left behind that Ocean knew would fade, and he smiled. "This is really good work," he told Corey, and he meant it. He hated that Corey was beating himself up about this, so Ocean wanted to distract him somehow. "I wish I had magic," Ocean told the other man, his face turning crimson suddenly, which surprised him. But this was something he was kind of self-conscious about. "My brother and three sisters and mom are all witches, and my dad and I aren't, and it...it was hard growing up like that sometimes. I always felt like I was...less, you know? Like why didn't I inherit the magic too?" This wasn't something he normally talked about, but Ocean felt like he could trust Corey.

Despite all of this, Matteo was still so excited. Since the day they had decided to go camping, there was an undeniable lift in his step. His days seemed brighter and that feeling exuded into the physical. There were even a few artists that noticed the change, "Capo looks suspiciously happy lately, did someone put something in his coffee this morning?" he had overheard one say to another. He pretended to not hear it, smiling to himself.

Matteo had been doing a lot of research and planning. He had gathered ingredients in a cooler -- his crack at veggie burgers, stuff to make tofu scrambles and vegetable skewers to roast over a fire. A fire that he had spent hours in his backyard perfecting the days leading up to their trip. The item that he had been most excited for however, was something sweet. Cannoli's he made all by himself. Well, by himself and an extensive phone call with his Zia, Agata -- who had broke down step by step their long standing family recipe. She had asked if he met a girl and if that's why he was making cannoli. He blushed and replied "Un ragazzo, in realtà. Si chiama Oceano, con un cuore grande quanto lo specchio d'acqua da cui prende il nome..”(A boy, actually. Named Ocean, with a heart as big as the body of water he is named after). And even though he thought he was pretty prepared, for the first time in a long time he doubted himself. What if he disappointed Ocean and he realized that Matteo really is just some guy, who's not that interesting or fun. He tried his best to swallow these thoughts whole.

When they got to the campsite, his worries melted. "No, Ocean, this is perfect," he said, eyes lighting up as he took in the serene sights and the sound of the gentle stream nearby. He stepped closer and smiled a warm smile, brushing a hand against Ocean's arm "you have an eye for beautiful spots too, not just art it seems." He couldn't think of a better way to spend a couple of days. Just him and Ocean, nature and whatever memories they would make.

Stop it, Ocean told himself. Just enjoy this time with him. And that was what Ocean was going to do, or try to at least. Once they were in the clearing, Ocean watched as Matteo took in the site, smiling when he approved. "Okay good," Ocean said with relief. "I picked out three backup sites, but they're farther away, so I'm glad you like this one." Now that they were here, Ocean stood there for a moment just looking at Matteo. This felt like a dream, and he couldn't stop smiling. Not only was happy that the other man was here, he was also happy that he felt so comfortable with Matteo. That was a rarity for Ocean, at least this quickly. When Matteo walked over to him and touched his arm, Ocean beamed, blushing just a little bit, and then he leaned in and hugged Matteo again, something he'd been wanting to do since their first hug the other day in Ocean's studio. "Thanks for coming," he said, holding the hug. He was nice and toasty in his green flannel shirt, but that was nothing compared to how he felt here against Matteo.

A minute later, Ocean was setting up the tent, something he'd done so many times before. With Matteo's help, it didn't take long for Ocean to set it up, and he looked proudly at his work when it was done. "It's...smaller than I remembered," Ocean realized, worried what Matteo would think. There would be room for both of them, but it would be closer quarters than he had expected. "Sorry," he told Matteo sheepishly, a little embarrassed. And then yet another worry hit Ocean hard: "Did you bring a sleeping bag?" he asked Matteo. Had he remembered to tell the man to bring one?

"Italian food sounds great! There's that one Italian place with the really awesome salads, we could go there," he suggested, offering a small smile, though he didn't push it. Ori wasn't trying to fool Ocean anymore. "Nobody upset me. Not anyone here, anyway. I guess I've just been kind of in my own head about other things and people, is all."

As soon as he was finished, Ocean sighed because he had heard the way it sounded. “That’s such a stupid thing of me to say,” he whispered. But this wasn’t about him, so he refocused on Forest. “Sometimes with brothers though, you don’t have to put them into words, especially when you’re best friends too,” Ocean told Forest. “And you are, I mean mine at least.” As they got ready to head to the restaurant, Ocean asked, “No one here? But someone else?” Again that protective urge flared up, and he knew this was how his brother felt about him too.

Aris couldn’t help but smile at Ocean’s awkwardness. There was something endearing about the way the guy seemed to trip over himself, as if the world was always pulling him into trouble. It reminded Aris a little of how his own life used to feel—chaotic, always on the verge of spiraling out of control. Though, he was never awkward - just a punk.

"Sounds like you and I have that in common," Aris said, his tone light . "Trouble just... finds us sometimes. But you didn’t chase that cat into danger. You tried to help, and that’s what matters." He gave Ocean a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, noticing how tense he was. Aris knew the feeling—the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself—. "Trust me, man, I've seen people cause a lot more damage while not trying to help."

When Ocean mentioned the milkshake, Aris chuckled. "No, that doesn’t sound stupid at all. Sometimes, it’s the little things, y’know? When everything’s going wrong, something as simple as a milkshake can make it feel like there’s still something good. That’s not dumb—that’s just finding your own kind of magic in the middle of a mess."

As Ocean continued to struggle with accepting his offer, Aris felt a flicker of something familiar—a reluctance to take credit, to believe he deserved anything good. It reminded him of his younger self, back when he thought he had to earn every bit of affection or help, as if it came with a price. "Listen, I’m buying the milkshake. You don’t owe me anything. Just enjoy it. So, shut up and accept it, yeah?"

Aris smiled when Ocean started talking about his family and their nature-themed names. It sounded so different from his own upbringing—chaotic but full of warmth. "Ocean, huh? That’s a pretty cool name. Your family sounds... close," Aris commented, a hint of wistfulness present. "Mine was... different." He didn’t offer more than that, but his thoughts drifted to his mom, Keyelin, and her own wild spirit, her way of seeing the world as a place of beauty even when it wasn’t.

When Ocean hesitated about where to put his arms, Aris grinned, amused but not unkind. "Yeah, you’re gonna want to hold on," he said, glancing back at him with a smirk. "I’m fast, and I don’t want you flying off the back of the bike."

Aris felt Ocean’s loose grip around his waist and chuckled softly. “Nah, you’re gonna need to hold on tighter than that, Ocean.” He reached down and gently tightened Ocean’s arms around his waist, making sure his passenger was secure. “There we go. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall off, but you gotta help me out a little here.”

With a playful tone, he gave a mock-serious safety overview. “Alright, quick lesson on being a good backpack on a motorcycle. First rule: hold on tight. None of this half-hearted shit, or you’ll be eating pavement, and trust me, it’s not as tasty as that milkshake we’re about to get.”

He turned his head slightly, grinning. “Second rule: lean with me, not against me. If I lean left, you lean left. We’re a team now, gotta move like one. And third rule…” He glanced back, eyes gleaming with amusement. “No screaming in my ear, unless you see a cat we actually need to save.”

Satisfied that Ocean was secure, Aris revved the engine, the familiar hum of the bike sending a thrill through him. "Ready?"

But then he looked back up at Aristotle, smiling a little. "I couldn't just leave it," Ocean told the man. "How could anyone?" He had seen the cat and saw it needed help, and Ocean hadn't even thought about it. "It was all alone." It was pretty clear that Aristotle wasn't going to take no for an answer, and besides, Ocean found that he wanted to accept the man's offer, if only so they could keep talking. Even though Forest was here with him in Cardinal Hill, Ocean was still lonely sometimes, so whenever he could talk to someone and actually feel somewhat good about it, he was going to take it (and hope he didn't ruin it). "Alright, but maybe next time I can pay?" Ocean said before he could overthink it. Here he was assuming Aristotle would want to hang out with him again, but maybe he would. For now though, Ocean would have a milkshake with Aristotle, and he smiled, giving him a little nod.

"Yeah, my family is really close," Ocean confirmed. "I miss them. It was hard to leave, but..." He trailed off, unsure of how to explain why he had left when most of the people he loved were on the commune. Finally Ocean told Aristotle, "It was harder to stay." There were so many other things Ocean could have said, but Aristotle was new, and Ocean wasn't about to dump all of his problems on the guy. And besides, Ocean barely knew how to talk about the way that he felt anymore. Whenever he tried, he always felt like he was wasting the other person's time; why would they even want to listen to him? "Different how?" he asked. Maybe that was a little bit of a personal question, but Ocean had asked it, so he just had to hope that he hadn't gotten too personal.

What scared Ocean about riding the motorcycle wasn't the motorcycle part - it was having such close contact with Aristotle, and man he'd just met who was also kind of intimidating, though it wasn't because of anything the man was doing. It just felt like he had lived a lot of life, knew things, the opposite of Ocean basically. And besides, physical contact was always kind of a tricky thing with Ocean - it depended on the person really. But this was happening, and the last thing Ocean wanted was the go flying off the back of Aristotle's motorcycle. Even with the playful way that the man was explaining the best way to stay safe, Ocean didn't feel like he was being condescending or mocking him; it felt more like the way friends might tease each other. Was Aristotle going to be a new friend? Maybe...though Ocean had learned to not hope for anything like that. "Okay," he replied when Aristotle was done explaining, and he tightened his grip around the man's waist. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Despite repeated attempts to reassure her that he was okay, it seemed clear to Bunny that this man was injured—and she was determined to help. Her work as a stylist had only brought about the occasional first-aid emergency. Looking at it now, the gash across his knee now was not exactly like a clipped ear or chemical allergy, and Bunny wasn't sure what to do about all that blood.

"Don't be embarrassed," She said softly, tucking strands of blond hair nervously behind her ears, then gesturing vaguely to their ruined surroundings. "It's like an obstacle course out here."

Her hands dropped awkwardly back to her sides for a moment, the sleeves of her too-long sweatshirt drooping over her hands.

"I think we should get that looked at," Bunny finally suggested, extending an arm once more for Ocean to take as support. She smiled a small smile. "Don't worry about the dirt on your hands. It doesn't bother me."

But the girl who was helping Ocean wasn't the reason he was embarrassed, not exactly at least - she wasn't doing anything to make him feel that way, though the fact that she was a witness to this whole debacle was making his face burn. On the contrary, she was being very kind, even when he would not have blamed her for leaving him there on the street. Like trash, that voice he had gotten so used to said. It continued whispering to him, saying, There on the street with the rest of the trash. But Ocean didn't want to completely fall apart in front of this stranger, so he tried to push those thoughts away, tried to silence that bitter voice that told him such terrible - yet true - things.

Even though Ocean had told the girl his hands were dirty, and even though she knew that now, she still extended her arm to help him. "Thanks..." he said softly, grabbing her arm for support. "You're really nice." Whenever someone was kind to him, Ocean always wondered what he had done to deserve that kindness. The answer was always nothing - he didn't deserve it. Still, as Ocean took a few tentative steps, he was glad to have the help. "I'll pay to get your shirt cleaned," Ocean offered. He looked down at his knee, and he asked, "Do you really think we need to get it checked out?" Maybe they did, but Ocean hated the thought of other people seeing his shame. "Can we just go in a cafe or something and look at it?" Ocean asked, a pleading note to his voice. "I don't think it needs stitches or anything." They walked a few more steps, and then he added, "And my name is Ocean. Thanks for being so nice."

It felt nice for Matteo too, to be in the car with him. It was seldom that he yearned to let someone into his life; his car, his office, his home, his mind. It was not something he thought he was interested in, not when he had worked so hard to pull himself out of the trenches. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so guarded. When Ocean returned the nickname, Matteo felt so happy he could almost feel his soul jumping from his skin. It was sweet and he really liked the way his mother tongue sounded on Ocean’s lips, even if it wasn’t the best pronunciation — we will work on that he thought to himself. It reminded him of himself when he was first learning English, a parallel so sweet. "Grazie, Ocean." He said. "It definitely suits you better, but I must say there is something about your energy that brings out the softer side in me." He admitted as he stole a quick glance at Ocean, his expression soft and sincere before he turned back to keep his eyes on the road.

In Ocean's studio, he took a step closer to Ocean, finally bringing his gaze to his -- an earnest expression planted on his face. "Hey now, don't say that," his voice was gentle "that's just how you feel. But I see something real and raw in them." Matteo thought for a moment to his own art, which was actually like that of a school aged child; he was never much of an artist himself no matter how hard his father wanted him to be. All of his artistic ability seemingly went to his younger brother who was still in Italy, doing everything that he was supposed to. "Art is about expression, not perfection. Puddles reflect the sky beautifully. They hold their own kind of magic. But it's okay to feel frustrated, every artist feels that way sometimes, don't let that overshadow the work you've done here. You're worth so much more than you think, I promise you."

When they were in Ocean's studio though, he was able to keep his focus on Matteo. The more the man talked, the more Ocean felt the urge to do something he didn't normally do with new people, and finally right before Matteo was set to leave, Ocean walked over to him, determined to do it. For a moment, they just stood close, Ocean looking back at the older man, and then he did it: he wrapped his arms around Matteo and hugged him. "Thank you for today," Ocean said softly against the man's shoulder, trying not to overthink what he was doing. He held the hug for several seconds, and then Ocean blushed as he pulled back. "I'm really excited for camping," he told the man.

Aris couldn’t help but smile at Ocean’s earnestness as he recounted the chaotic sequence of events. “You know,” he began, a teasing lilt in his voice, “when I heard you saved a cat, I imagined you pulling off some superhero stunt, not wrestling with a motorcycle!” He chuckled softly, picturing Ocean valiantly trying to manage both the bike and his milkshake. “You definitely have a knack for getting into the shit though."

As Ocean glanced back at the remnants of his milkshake, Aris tsked. “I totally get it,” he said, moving a bit closer and resting a hand on Ocean’s shoulder. Aris had grown used to giving physical contact - it had been something he had grown into as his dads wore away his defenses and taught him how to trust and love again.

“Some days, a milkshake is all you need to get through. And no way, man, It’ll be on me this time. You saved my bike.” His playful smile was warm, hoping to lift the mood and ease any lingering embarrassment Ocean might have felt.

Aris chuckled lightly as he handed Ocean the helmet, noticing how the younger man’s cheeks flushed a bit. “You know, Ocean, it’s not every day you meet someone with a name as unique as mine—Aristotle. I guess we both have interesting stories --- errr, interesting parents?”

Aris motioned toward his motorcycle. “Just hop on. Where are we headed?”

Once the man started talking about milkshakes, Ocean smiled because he got it. "You understand it then," he stated, feeling a little more relaxed now. "It's like...things can feel so bad, but for that little bit of time that you're drinking your milkshake, you've got something sweet in your life." As soon as he said this, Ocean frowned, sighing. "That sounded so stupid out loud," he said quietly, blush returning to his cheeks. "No, really, you don't have to buy mine," Ocean protested, though he had a feeling the man wasn't going to let him take no for an answer, and Ocean wouldn't fight it too much so as not to be rude. He was always really aware of the way he responded to things, not wanting to be off-putting or strange, though that usually happened anyway. "I didn't really save your bike," Ocean argued. "You were there pretty quickly after I grabbed it anyway." It was hard for Ocean to receive any sort of compliment or praise.

Eyebrows raised at the mention of his name, Ocean turned to the man - Aristotle - and smiled again. "Really? That's your name?" he asked, though Ocean didn't know why he'd lie about that. "My name is Ocean because everyone in my family has a nature-themed name. My parents are Skye and River, and I've got sibling Sunshine, Forest, Rain, and Coral." Taking the helmet from Aristotle, Ocean put it on and climbed on the back of the bike. There was a part of him that was a little uncomfortable with such close contact, but it was necessary, and Aristotle's kindness was helping a lot. "I'll direct you," Ocean answered, and suddenly he was unsure of what to do with his arms. "Do I...like, wrap my arms around your waist?" He'd done this before, but never with someone he had just met.

He filled it with soap and water, opting to let it soak, and then went to find his shoes. He'd left one in the living room, and the other took him a couple of minutes to locate. It had been kicked under the couch, and it wasn't the first time he'd found it there. When he was finally ready, he found Ocean by the door and smiled again. "So, anything in particular sound good to you today?"

Forest went upstairs, and Ocean followed a moment later, determined to help his brother still. Walking into the kitchen, Ocean answered, "How do you feel about Italian food?" He was craving some pasta, so Ocean hoped that Forest would agree. And he also hoped his brother would talk to him. "Forest," he pressed, "what's going on? Did someone upset you?" Ocean felt a surge of protectiveness. This was his brother, so if someone had hurt him, well...that wasn't okay.

Matteo adjusted his rear view mirror before he glanced over at Ocean, his heart skipping a beat from it's cage inside of his chest before he said "Thank you, I like to think my office has a little bit of charm but you're the one who brings the light in, my friend." As they drove, the soft hum of the engine filled the space between them and he could sense Ocean's nervousness. He wanted to take it all away, to reassure him but he wasn't sure if it would do any good yet so he decided to focus on the road. The apex of his vision focused on pavement so he could cleanse himself of the anxiety of having an attractive boy in his car. Then when Ocean asked about the name cucciolotto a grin spread across his lips before the blush came next, flustering. He hadn't realized he had said that part out loud, but now that it was said there was no taking it back. He meant it anyways, so he couldn't take it back even if he wanted to. "I'm sorry," he lamented "sometimes when I can't remember the English equivalent my mother tongue slips out." Matteo's cheeks burned now as he thought of a way to explain himself "It means puppy, kind of. A puppy like you're sweet and cute, not that I think you're a puppy. It's not translating well, I think." He stammered and this time it was his turn to say "I'm sorry."

Matteo followed him inside, nervousness and excitement swirling in the depths of his chest. There was nothing that excited him more than art and.... looking at Ocean's art? He didn't think there could be anything better. When Ocean took his hand, he let himself be led down to the basement. He gave it a gentle, brief squeeze as they descended. When they reached the studio, his breath nearly caught in his throat. The space was a unique trove of treasure -- of creativity. A true reflection of his spirit and mind. Matteo was thankful to be let in. A tender, winsome smile spreads across his lips as he takes a step in, his eyes gliding across the room as he says "It's incredible, Ocean," the feeling of being genuinely impressed oozing from his words, "This is amazing work."

"You're very talented." He assured him, adding softly "You've poured yourself into this, I can see it."

It was nice being in the car with Matteo, even when they weren’t talking, and Ocean was amazed at how quickly he’d gotten comfortable with this man. It felt like they’d known each other so much longer than an afternoon, at least Ocean thought so, and he liked that. It made it feel like this was meant to be. As soon as he saw the grin on Matteo’s face and the blush on his cheeks, Ocean broke into a smile. Was he the one doing this to the man? Ocean James, making a man flustered? It baffled him, but in the best way, though Ocean’s smile temporarily faded when Matteo explained the meaning of the word. A puppy - Matteo thought he was a puppy. He might as well have called him a baby. But then Matteo explained, and as he did so, Ocean smiled again. Matteo was calling him sweet and cute, and he just felt like he would smile so much his cheeks would hurt. “Thank you,” Ocean replied, his voice quiet. Then his smile (impossibly) grew even bigger as he added, “You’re a…um, cuccuolotto too.” He had no idea if he was saying that correctly, but Ocean didn’t think it mattered; Matteo understood. 

Standing in the middle of his studio near the painting he was working on, Ocean blushed at the other man’s words. “It’s not incredible,” he argued softly. “It’s amateurish. All of this are like what a kid would make in a school art class. I guess I never progressed past that point. Not everyone does.” Why had he thought this was a good idea? Matteo was saying all the right things, but Ocean could t see them. “You’re right that I poured myself into them,” Ocean admitted, “but I didn’t have much to pour I guess. I’m a puddle, remember? I’m not an ocean.” Right now Ocean wanted to burn this room down - okay, not literally, but he wanted to destroy everything here. None of it was worth anything at all. 

Aris stepped out of the town hall, his mind still swirling from the close encounter he had with his mother's adversary, the iron-born bitch named Mrs. Winthorpe - though, Aris learned that Mrs. Winthorpe had died five years ago (good riddance) and it was her daughter-in-law who was the new Mrs. Winthorpe (and both the old and the new Winthorpe seemed to speak from their nose and look down on others.) He knew today was going to be weird - he still had to go to the car dealership to get himself a jeep - something that would work for winter and also he could justify bringing back to Maine when it was time to leave.

Just then, he caught sight of a frantic scene unfolding near his motorcycle.

Curious, Aris approached—a young man kneeling beside a car, desperately trying to coax a frightened cat from its hiding spot. The comedy of errors played out in front of him, and he watched the cat run from under the car to his bike, and then he watched as the cat then ran from under the bike into its owners arms. He shook his head, never more grateful than in that moment to have Lac as his familiar instead of a cat.

Then, as if the universe was determined to pile on the bullshit, Aris’s gaze fell to his bike just in time to see a couple of passersby leaning against it. The motorcycle started to topple, and Aris's heart dropped.

“Hey! Watch out!” he yelled, adrenaline surging as he sprinted toward his bike. He lunged forward, grabbing the handlebars just before it could fall. The weight of the Ducati threatened to pull him down, but he gritted his teeth and steadied it.

“I really should’ve expected that,” he muttered to himself, panting slightly as he regained his composure. He turned to the young man, who had just spilled had his milkshake all over the sidewalk. “Didja hurt yourself? It looked like you nearly went down with the bike." He made sure that the bike wasn't in danger, and he shook his head. "And you lost your milkshake." bummer... Aris rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about what he could do. "I could give you a ride to ... wherever it was where you got the milkshake. Maybe if you explain that you were trying to do a good deed, they'd take pity on you. I'd back you up."

It didn't take long either because soon someone was rushing to his aid, and Ocean felt a surge of relief; he didn't want the owner coming out of wherever they were to find their motorcycle ruined. As it turned out, this was the owner, and together they were able to pull the bike back into position. Unsure of how much the man had seen, Ocean told him quickly, "I didn't do this. I was trying to help a cat, and it was hiding behind your motorcycle. After the owner scooped it up though, this couple got too close and caused it to topple and just ran off. I just happened to still be close." The last thing Ocean wanted was for the man to blame him, though maybe it was partially his fault. Maybe he should have told the couple not to get too close. Yeah, that's what you should have done, Ocean told himself, sighing. He couldn't do anything right, and this showed that.

Luckily this guy didn't seem to blame Ocean, whether that was because he'd seen what happened or because he believed Ocean's words. Either way, Ocean was grateful and felt a little bit of relief. "Some people just don't care about other people's property," Ocean said quietly, shaking his head. "This would have kind of been like a hit and run I guess." His eyes had been on the bike, but Ocean finally looked at the man, and he saw that he didn't know him. The man was more than a little striking too, so Ocean thought he'd probably remember him, and suddenly Ocean was blushing because the reality of what had just happened came rushing to the surface. "I'm sorry," Ocean apologized. "When I saw the couple get close, i should have told them to keep their distance. I just wasn't thinking...like usual." He never thought about things enough, and Ocean was embarrassed - this could have been so much worse than it was.

Shaking his head, Ocean replied, "I didn't do anything worth a free milkshake." He glanced at the remains of his all over the sidewalk, and he picked up the cup, throwing it away in a nearby trashcan, staring at the remains longingly. "I did really need that today though," Ocean admitted sadly. He looked at the motorcycle and thought about the man's offer, and Ocean said, "Well if you really don't mind, I wouldn't say no to a ride. I'll buy you one too to make up for what happened." Ocean had ridden on motorcycles before, but it had been awhile, and he'd always thought it was thrilling. "My name is Ocean," he introduced himself then.

Aris stood outside the town hall, the sturdy brick building looming in front of him. It had been almost two decades since he’d roamed these streets, and now, at 28, he was back— the Ducati 900SS parked beside him, its polished chrome glinting in the sunlight. He could feel the weight of nostalgia hanging in the air as he recalled his mother’s stories about this place, how she used to bring him when she filled out paperwork for assistance - how she tried to pretend she wasn't crying when she was denied.

He adjusted his leather jacket, a far cry from the boyish clothes he wore as a child, and took a deep breath. “Okay, Aris, just register the bike and get out,” he murmured to himself, hoping the familiarity of the town hall wouldn’t drag him too deep into the past. The sound of voices drifted from within, laughter and chatter mingling in a way that felt both comforting and foreign.

“Time to face the music,” he added with a wry smile, pushing back the flicker of nerves in his stomach. He stepped up to the entrance, the old wooden door creaking as he pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of paper and faintly of lemon-scented cleaner, grounding him in the present. Hopefully no one remembered him as the trouble-maker that used to shoplift -- (it had been so he and his mother had something to eat...)

As he approached the registration desk, he caught sight of a few familiar faces—townsfolk he remembered -- maybe. They didn't seem to know him either.

“Just here to register a bike,” he said, his voice steady as he approached the clerk. “Nothing too complicated.” His name was different. He was different. No one would know him as Keyelin Locke's son.

"Come on now," Ocean said. He was kneeling beside a car parked on the street near Town Hall, reaching underneath it trying to catch a cat that had just run underneath it. The cat had appeared scared but generally in good health, and this was a town of witches, so it wouldn't have surprised Ocean if the cat was someone's familiar. Even so, it seemed skittish, like it was lost, and Ocean couldn't just ignore that. His plan was to get the cat, take it home, and then try and find the owner, but...well, it wasn't going as planned. Looking underneath the car, Ocean sighed; every time he almost had the cat, it moved away. "Please," Ocean pleaded. "I just want to drink my milkshake and go home, but I can't just leave you." Work had been rough today - a customer had treated him like an idiot just because Ocean was quiet - and he had indulged in a milkshake despite the chill in the air. And all he wanted to do was drink it as he walked home, the milkshake serving as a distraction from the fact that his bike was still ruined.

While he reached for the cat, Ocean had set his milkshake down on the sidewalk, but someone nearly knocked it over as they walked by; Ocean barely caught it in time, and this startled the cat, who immediately ran underneath the next car. "Wow," Ocean said aloud as he stood, walking over to the car. It was fancy and looked expensive, and while Ocean didn't even know how to drive, he was still impressed. But right now he needed to focus on the cat, so he set the milkshake on top of the car and knelt down again. And as he did so, Ocean saw a woman on the other side of the car, the cat immediately rushing into her arms - it had found its owner. Good, Ocean thought, a big smile on his face, but it didn't last because that was when a gust of wind came through and knocked his milkshake over. it happened so fast, and Ocean couldn't believe it as he saw the spill all over the car. "No no no no no no NO!" Ocean exclaimed, but it was too late. Of course this had happened, of course it had, and now Ocean was furious with himself. Why did he always mess things up? Looking toward Town Hall, Ocean considered just leaving, but that wasn't him; he couldn't just act like this hadn't happened, and he would need to come clean to the owner of this car and apologize.

While he reached for the cat, Ocean had set his milkshake down on the sidewalk, but someone nearly knocked it over as they walked by; Ocean barely caught it in time, and this startled the cat, who immediately ran underneath to cower behind the motorcycle that was in the next parking spot. "Wow," Ocean said aloud as he stood, walking over to it. It was fancy and looked expensive, and while Ocean didn't even know how to drive a car let alone a motorcycle, he was still impressed. But right now he needed to focus on the cat, so he set the milkshake on the sidewalk - it felt like a bad idea to put it on the motorcycle - and knelt down again. And as he did so, Ocean saw a woman on the other side of the motorcycle, the cat immediately rushing into her arms - it had found its owner. Good, Ocean thought, a big smile on his face, standing up. He took a step back, admiring the motorcycle again and imagining the owner, and he turned back to face Town Hall, wondering if they were inside. As he looked up a the building, Ocean heard a couple walking behind him and talking about the motorcycle, and when Ocean turned back around, he saw that they were touching it. Uh oh, he thought - Ocean had a bad feeling about this. Sure enough, the motorcycle started to waver, and instead of trying to stop it, the couple just ran off. Everything happened so fast then: Ocean lunged forward, knocking his milkshake all over the sidewalk (though he didn't care about that now) and grabbing the handlebars of the bike, managing to keep it from hitting the pavement at the last second. But the bike was heavy, and it already felt like he was losing his hold of it.

Ori didn't mean to stomp, but he knew he was a little heavy-footed going into the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, he looked at Ocean, holding up the frying pan in his hand. There was something crispy, black, and smoking inside of it, and he offered his brother a small smile that almost revealed how frustrated he was actually feeling. "Remember when I rainchecked getting something to eat with you? Well, I've had a pretty rough day, and now I've burned pretty much everything that was left in the fridge. Wanna come get food with me, now?"

Today wasn't one of those days though. He was feeling inspired lately, and Ocean didn't want to read too much into that, into what had him in...well not a good mood lately, but a better one than usual. But just like always, that mood couldn't last, and as Ocean stopped to look at the pottery he was working on, he couldn't help from falling into the gaping chasm that was his self-criticism. "This is awful," Ocean thought as he looked at the half-finished vase, stopping the pottery wheel. Why do you even bother? that voice in his head whispered, and Ocean thought it had a point. He wasn't a very dramatic person or else Ocean might have swept it off the wheel in frustration.

Luckily before he could get too deep into his despair, he heard stomping around on the stairs. Turning toward the stairs, Ocean saw his brother there, and despite everything, Ocean couldn't wallow when his brother was here. Still, he didn't want Forest to see what he was working on, so Ocean tried to subtly position himself so that he was blocking it from view. "Rough day?" Ocean asked, smiling at the sight of the pan. "Did something happen? But yeah, let's go get something to eat."

"SeaTac is the airport up in Seattle," Matteo explained with a warm smile. "A hub for many worldly adventures." He noticed the blush on Ocean’s cheeks, and it made him want to reassure him, to wrap him in that warmth they both seemingly shared, or he hoped they did. Matteo squeezed Ocean’s hand a little tighter, wanting him to feel that support. “You’re brave for wanting to learn. Trust me, the world is big, and you’re doing just fine. I’ll be here to help you navigate it. If you want." He smiled, hoping to quiet the doubts swirling in Ocean’s mind, wanting him to feel confident in the journey ahead.

As they hit the road in his 1981 Ford Mustang (considered a lemon by most, but hey, he likes it and sees no reason to have some fancy car), Matteo could sense Ocean’s nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Hey, it’s normal to feel a little anxious,” he said, his tone gentle. “But remember, this is just me, Cucciolotto. No pressure.”

It was difficult to focus on all of his flaws though when Matteo was touching him. It was like that simple contact drew out all of Ocean's negativity, leaving only light inside him. "Yeah, I would like that," Ocean said, finally meeting Matteo's eyes again. He didn't know how the man would help him, but if it meant spending more time together he would take it. A few minutes later, they were out in Matteo's car, and Ocean could stop smiling. "Your car reminds me of your office," he told the man. "They both have character, just like you." He tried to focus on that light that Matteo seemed to infuse him with as they headed for his house, hoping it would help combat his nerves, but he didn't want Matteo to hate his work. What if he thought Ocean was a fraud after seeing it? However, before Ocean could think too much about that, he heard the nickname Matteo had used, and he was intrigued enough that that took focus in his mind. "Cucciolotto?" Ocean asked. "What does that mean?"

Soon they had arrived at Ocean's house. It didn't seem like Forest was home, which Ocean was glad about, probably a first for him. He just didn't want any witnesses in case Matteo realized he'd been wasting his time. They walked up to the front door, and after Ocean opened the door and led Matteo inside, he grabbed the man's hand and led him further into the house. "I'm going to take you to my studio," Ocean told Matteo, and then he gently pulled the man to the basement stairs, leading him down. "Well...this is it," Ocean said once they were in the basement. "This is my studio." He gestured around to his various paintings and his pottery and sculptures, his heart pounding.