Lemon’s gt blog

Garden Party:

Not long after moving in, JJ is pleasantly surprised to discover an entire community of borrowers living in her home. When one bravely makes first contact, it doesn’t take long for them to start getting more comfortable in their odd living situation.

> Part I: “You’re Invited!”

> Part II: “Lawrence”

> Part III: “Questions and Answers”

> Part IV: “Chantilly”

Behind the Scenes:

In which Nico, a lone borrower who lives inside a movie theater and adores studying the technical side of film—meets Tyler, a human movie theater attendant who’s written tons of movie scripts in his life but knows squat about the techy side of things.

> The og inspiration behind it

> “Movie Night”

> “Nothing”

(The following are specially g/t related scenes or perspectives from some of my larger, non-g/t centric stories, the non-g/t parts of them are marked as such <3)

Shelter:

In a world where rare, often reality-defying birth defects dubbed ‘Afflictions’ cast aside a portion of the population into obscurity, two old lesbians found the first ever shelter for Afflicted youth. This saga follows the lives of those kids as the Shelter itself evolves throughout the years.

> How Cedar and Joey Met

> A Diner in Whitehorse (non-G/t)

The End: (under construction 🚜)

A cosmic-scale apocalyptic event forces a Latin-speaking knight and an English-speaking punk-rocker-turned-giant to survive together in this confusing new world.

> Part 1 - Curtis’ POV

> Part 2 - Curtis’ POV

> Part 3 - Romanius’ POV

> Short for Hug a Giant Day

One-offs:

> Lost and Found

It had been a slow day. Rain poured in sheets outside the storefront windows, slipping into storm drains with little fanfare besides the occasional thunderclap that sounded much worse than it probably was. Every now and then, a flash of light would illuminate the tiled expanse around them both; the shelves having been pushed up against the walls to create space enough for a twenty-eight foot presence to exist with some amount of comfort. Albeit, without being able to stand.

Curtis listened to the rain as it drummed up against the glass on the wall opposite to themself. It had become some sort of game, determining just how far they could give into the delusion of pretending that this was an entirely different set of drums, in an entirely different world than this one.

The tile was cold beneath their back, the feeling seeping in past the thin of their long-overdue borrowed tee shirt and making them bite down an oncoming shiver. Ceiling panels—despite their intense observation of them going on literal hours now—were really not that exciting. But the individual flecks of paint were worth counting out if it meant not thinking about why the extra space was needed in the first place, who the shirt had come from, or how long it had been since they’d seen him.

Despite their every attempt to avoid it, that oncoming shiver still ran defiantly through them. Unfortunately, the same could be said of their thoughts. Of home, of friends, of places and people far, far away from here who were likely also stranded in places even farther away, and who had maybe also begun tearing up like a bunch of overemotional idiots over it; whose tears were possibly also getting lost in the endless downpour outside and the still, starry patterns of a boring ceiling panel that were all too quickly blurring together into a formless, wet blob of color.

But maybe that was just them. Yeah, in hindsight, it was probably just them. One single, overemotional idiot, stranded utterly alone in the world and about five times as tall as they should be.

Well, okay, fine. Only half of that was true.

“Curtis…?” A voice drifted up, all hushed with worry and drowned out by the storm almost to the point of being rendered inaudible. There was no room to debate whether it had been heard or not, however, because the individual in question promptly winced at the sound of it.

Romanius’ careful approach was signaled only by a pair of boots clicking across the floor, coming to an abrupt halt when a barricade of white fabric and dark hair proceeded to rise up in front of him as Curtis turned onto their side. Blocking his path and, more importantly, his view of their red, tear-streaked face. It wasn’t like the guy hadn’t seen it before. Hell, Curtis was on the verge of a breakdown or two the very day they met. Yet somehow it was that same notion that urged them into hiding it now; he had seen them cry enough as is, they’d reasoned.

When the voice piped up again, it was noticeably louder and more direct. “Curtis,” it scolded once, almost disappointedly, before turning soft in a way that made them want to melt into the earth. “Esne bene?”

It wasn’t a futile effort. The words had not been lost to the cavernous trench of the language gap between them. Hung just a few inches from their head, the repurposed back of a poster marked with the words ‘Conversation Guide’ worked well to prove that. On it, an equal sign scrawled in black marker, among many others, bound the word ‘bene’ to the words ‘okay,’ ‘yes,’ and ‘good.’ Not that they had to reference it too often to recall what each one meant anymore.

Having at least that piece of the puzzle, the rest of Romanius’ sentence essentially worked itself out. “Are you okay?” He’d asked.

Those kind, dark, and infinitely worried eyes of his bored into the back of Curtis’ neck. At least that was the excuse their mind gave for why they found themself choking on their words all of a sudden, the only one that managed to make it out turning short and jagged along the way.

It was yet another that had made it onto their handy language guide. One of the first, actually.

“No,” they answered back, voice raspy and damp to the point of it becoming nearly unrecognizable to themself. Although that particular sensation was far from unfamiliar. “No, no,” the chords broke into sharper and smaller shards with each repetition, their head subtly wagging from side to side as a hand came up to clutch a section of their hair in a loose fist; the other wrapped around a shoulder.

A quiet sigh was lost amid another flash of light and the echoey boom that followed it. Curtis had taken the opportunity to let it drown out one—and only one—shattered, guttural sob. Forgetting completely to account for the way it shuddered through the floor beneath the other’s boots, feeling it for a moment as if it were his own. In doing so, Curtis had instantly given themself away. And, as far as Romanius could tell, they remained unaware of this fact.

Not only that, but Romanius had been noticing a lot of things about this new friend of his lately. Even in just the length of time they’d known each other, since their initial meeting about a week ago.

A week since he had saved their life, the same as the first time he had seen them cry.

A week spent traveling side by side, wandering through empty city streets and camping out inside the grocery store at night; sorting food and trying to talk and playing games to pass the time. Romanius took another step forward.

But then, why? Two people who did not share a language had managed so far to agree on what piles to sort things into, they had formed inside jokes and successfully taught each other the rules to old games they remembered from childhood. Why didn’t that seem like enough? Romanius calmly placed a hand over their shoulder.

Even in this jumbled mess of a situation both people found themselves in—and yet neither could be quite sure of that truth—there was still so much he didn’t know. After all, he had no way of simply asking: ‘are you experiencing the same thing I am?’ Or ‘did you appear here too?’

He wished desperately to know the person whose life he had saved that fateful, foggy day. Such as where they had come from, what home was called, what home was like, and whether they had friends or family waiting for them there. He wanted to know what his companion did for a living and if all people dressed that way where they were from.

But most of all, the question that sat right at the tip of his tongue, suspended in that moment, burning hot like a candle he just couldn’t snuff out; Romanius longed to know who it was they kept crying for.

It didn’t seem like enough because it wasn’t enough, he told himself. This person was not only several times his size, but also barely understood him, in the exact way he’d just been fretting about barely understanding them. There was nothing he could say or do that would be enough to comfort someone like that. Not in the way they needed.

And yet, no matter how hard his mind tried to convince him of that particular sentiment, the less his stubborn heart believed it.

At least there was the one thing he remained certain of, and he would pronounce it as many times as it took to get his friend to turn around and face him again. “Curtis,” he demanded for a third time with a light tug at their sleeve.

Third time’s a charm, apparently, because the man’s persistent nagging had worked like a spell. The shoulder shifted under his touch, causing Romanius to pull his hand back. Stepping even further back as their body slowly repositioned itself, almost sluggish in its care not to ram into him. Those tense, white-knuckled and calloused hands of theirs unclasped from around themself, something Romanius took as a minor victory. A step in the right direction.

As soon as Curtis had finished sitting up, Romanius moved to close the short-lived gap between them, fully aware that the former’s shoulders were now situated at over twice the man’s entire height. Factoring in, of course, the reality that Romanius himself wasn’t always the tallest presence in a room. He’d hit his current height sometime around his early teens and his body had seemingly called it quits then, something his superiors used to mock him relentlessly for. Not that he had any jurisdiction to complain about height issues around the one person who couldn’t stand up under the fifteen-foot-high ceiling of the store.

Simply put, once he had stepped in so close that he was practically brushing up against their side, Romanius was no longer quite sure where to take things from there. And thus, simply put, he stopped thinking about it.

A shallow gasp escaped from somewhere overhead as two surprisingly strong arms seized around either side of their torso, held just above the waist where they were sitting. His reach did not make it the other side.

One could say that all the world fell quiet then. Instead, the honest truth was that this world they’d both stumbled into had always been eerily silent. It would be more accurate to say that the silence, for all of its definite eeriness, and for the first time Curtis could really recall, suddenly felt bearable.

He had a way of making everything feel bearable, didn’t he?

For all the weather’s attempt to ruin whatever day plans the two might have had, the droning cacophony of rain still pounding against the windows had so easily slipped into a static noise. The unforgiving chill in the air that Curtis had felt through every surface, shuddering through each breath, melted effortlessly away beneath the small, solid warmth affixed to their side. A warmth that, to the smaller of the two, was nothing short of all-encompassing. Reinforced by the open hand that had since closed in behind him, draping loosely around what he was certain must’ve been the totality of his upper and lower back combined.

How he hadn’t thought to initiate something as simple as a hug before astounded him, in weather this frigid. To be honest, he was feeling progressively more inclined to stay in this position for the foreseeable future. Perhaps indefinitely. He hoped that Curtis thought so too.

As far as Romanius was concerned, the singular downside to this was that his vision was so wholly consumed by the white wall of fabric in front of him that he’d have to practically fold his neck in half just to catch a glimpse of their face; to search for some hint on their expression that could tell him whether this desperate excuse of a hug was truly effective or not.

Except, he didn’t have to.

As quickly as one massive hand had turned into two, there was a dizzying rush of air before Romanius—back, boots, legs and all—had abandoned the face of the earth.

The ‘hug’ had evidently been relocated to the one place which, to be fair, did seem like the most fitting place for a hug: someone’s chest. At least, it would’ve been for anyone of similar size. The breath had been knocked out of him the second he made impact, more so out of shock than forcefulness. Medically speaking, he was fine. They had just never been this… forward, before. He decided that it was most likely the effect of their emotions acting on them. But still.

In spite of himself, Romanius let out a laugh; short, bright, and unmistakably dazed.

“Sorry,” he heard—as well as felt—the living surface utter through him. Now there was a word he had gotten to know all too well, and wouldn’t mind hearing a bit less of lately. “You… bene?” The guilt in their scratchy throat was thick and tangible.

“Ita!” He replied automatically, his voice returning after he’d finally caught his breath, pushing himself slightly off the fabric cushion. “Yes, Curtis. Bene.” Then, just in case they’d missed it the first time, “bene,” he repeated, collapsing back into the hold with a huff.

There was another crash of thunder outside, but he didn’t notice any light this time. From where he was, there was only warmth, two steady heartbeats, and the faintest blend of smoke, laundry soap, and something vaguely sweet.

As for his own heart, now loud enough from the sudden rush of adrenaline to hear in his own ears, he felt it skip another beat. Could these lingering scents be the answers to his extensive list of unresolved questions? He thought, his mind running a mile a minute trying to make sense of what his heart was telling him. Or, at the very least, were they clues into his companion’s past?

If so, he hadn’t needed the words at all to receive it. He was practically enshrouded by it; that echo of a life impossibly far away from here. The one that constantly killed him over his inability to just up and ask.

Tears and rain alike continued to fall without end. It didn’t matter. Not to him, or to the person he had been lucky enough to stand beside throughout what had surely been the worst week of both their lives.

How lucky that warmth, fabric, smoke, and laundry soap was all they had to show for it.

There was still so little he knew, so little he understood, and yet being there with Curtis felt like the simplest thing in this whole, broken universe.

Beyond the illusive bubble of time and space they both had created for themselves, was a poster hung backwards on a wall, and on it was a word that in Romanius’ speech there was no real translation for. When Curtis had tried to explain it via gestures and context clues, all they’d ended up with on the other end of that equal sign was a small drawing of a heart. And on the English side—

“Thank you,” Curtis quietly sobbed, followed up by a predictable “sorry.”

Romanius scoffed, elbowing the part of their body closest to his right arm, though he couldn’t tell what part that was, exactly. “Non,” he argued back, an almost playful edge to his tone, “non sorry.”

Romanius’ eyes widened upon remembering something, though why in the world the memory had chosen to resurface, he could only be thankful that it did. It was something he’d heard Curtis remark once or twice in an offhand, joking tone to him, whenever he’d gone off on a tangent and, in the heat of the moment, forgotten entirely that all of it was going straight over the other person’s head. Only now, the short phrase stuck out in his mind, its syllables slightly distorted as he attempted poorly to recreate them, but it was worth the risk.

“Shut up, you… desine! Shoosh!”

While sandwiched between an upper torso and a pair of arms that were all respectively longer than his body, he really should have anticipated that startled laugh of theirs to be as incredibly overwhelming a sensation as it probably was. If only he hadn’t been even more distracted by the fact that his stupid, silly attempt at a joke had actually landed. He’d made his friend laugh, and however weak it was from crying, it sounded solely of sweet success to its instigator’s ears. His mind wondered absently whether that face high above even realized how hard or how proudly he was grinning right then.

Minutes that could’ve been hours passed by until he began to sense that his job had been accomplished. A few lazy, reflexive kicks in the air did the trick to get that message across, and the ensuing decent felt notably gentler than the reverse had been. The pair’s minds and bodies were visibly worn out. Romanius even stumbled slightly once his boots hit solid ground again, Curtis’ hand returning briefly to help him regain his balance, which he had accepted with a grateful, eye-squinting smile.

That lasted for about half a second before he felt the chill in the air promptly slice into him, reacting as though he’d just stepped out of a sauna into the icy sheet of winter.

Without so much as an ounce of hesitation, Romanius acted purely on instinct, lunging directly for Curtis’ side in hope of returning to that profound warmth he had since become acquainted with. At ground level, it was more of a wall than an everything, but it would have to do.

The wall in question chuckled to themself again, every motion sending tremors that he selfishly hoped they’d never realize they were causing.

“Esne bene?” They teased lightheartedly, a hand sliding in to rest beside him on the floor while the other was busy wiping broadly at those deeply tired, and now somewhat puffy eyes.

All Romanius did was drop down right next to it, reclining back until his head met with the wall behind them both, swiftly setting his hands up for support as his legs crossed in front of him. “Shut up,” he teased them back, quieter this time, and a light breeze blew past as Curtis exhaled pointedly.

Something else was muttered under a breath, an “I can’t believe I taught you that…” though it was only understood by one, whose voice was now gradually repairing itself from its broken state. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

There was one last thing he wanted to add. Any longer and Romanius was ready to pass out cold—or rather, unexpectedly warm—on the floor.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the room already forgotten in favor of the backs of his eyelids. And just in case there was any question as to what it was for, he nudged himself slightly further into the corner of Curtis’ nearest wrist.

Just when he thought more short, easy words would return from above, all he received was a languid hum of recognition from his companion. Proving to him that they were clearly as emotionally exhausted as he was.

As his eyes blinked open again, he was met with a sight that was as expected as it was rewarding. Bright, dazzling spots of colored light projected into the pitch dark space through the arrangement of stained glass shards on their front door. Something that had been salvaged from an old glass shop long ago; a childhood home, though it wasn’t his own.

As he fumbled with the knob for a moment, willing his bones to stay upright for just a while longer, he hadn’t realized he’d also been shaking until he was quickly swept up into an incredibly firm, meltingly warm embrace.

“Welcome back,” the words practically rattled through him, soft and low as Lawrence took no time in hugging his husband back, though his returned gesture was notably less tight.

His mouth mumbled into the dark, faintly floral smelling head of facial hair in front of him until words eventually came to form. “Mm… where are the girls?”

A chuckle reverberated through every part of him, an immensely welcome sensation as the flowery man responded. “They’re with Hugh today for weekend lessons. Did’ya forget already?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled back, the lower timbre of his voice giving away the secret of his disappointment. “Weekend already, is it?”

“Alright, Mr. Liaison, let’s get you to bed.”

A vaguely happy hum escaped him as he was led into the adjoining room, collapsing onto the well-known bundle of cushions and blankets which had apparently been rained on by lengths of string and fabric since last he left.

Those half-humorless laughs faded out of him as a look of concern shone through the dark pair of eyes staring down from overhead. At least these ones weren’t miles away, he mused, nearly bringing up that whole mixed bag of emotions all over again if that syrupy sweet voice hadn’t broken his sudden spell. Surprisingly, the tone of it didn’t betray the same feeling, but instead held an upward intonation of genuine curiosity.

“How did the meeting with the human go?”

A moment of quiet passed by as Lawrence tried to ignore the other’s gaze searching his body up and down, looking for bruises or injuries of some kind, anything to validate the obvious expression of discomfort that fell over him at the question.

Instead, what he blurted out next revealed the truth of the matter. One even Lawrence himself was apparently exasperated by. “It went fine!” He hissed. While equally startled, a slight smirk revealed itself as the other man’s dark eyebrows quirked in response.

“That’s great,” his husband stated plainly, tilting his head a bit to the side like he could catch the root of his frustration just by looking a little more intently at him.

“Which is weird!” Lawrence went on, practically biting at his own retelling as each remembrance sounded more ridiculous, more confounding and irritating than the last. “She seems honestly cooperative and even though she’d made up that story last time about ‘enjoying the company’ she acted so genuine about it too, and…”

In a flash, his husband had left his position on the floor and moved to sit beside him on the bed instead, leading the overwhelmed liaison to stare straight up into those dark, worried eyes. As a result, Lawrence completely lost his train of thought.

After another length of time passed by, neither could avoid grinning like idiots the longer they stared silently at each other. Eventually, he had to be prompted out of it. “And?”

Lawrence groaned, picking up the nearest pillow and shoving it against himself as if to Heimlich the recent memory out of his muddled brain and into his mouth. “And now she’s told me she wants people to feel more ‘comfortable’ around her. I mean, can you believe that?”

A thoughtful hum sounded above him, and Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering that, Tilly.” Robbed of a chance to reply, Tilly promptly raised his arms in self defense as a pillow collided into him with a ‘whumf’ before tumbling gently down onto the floor.

“The human hasn’t done anything but be helpful for years,” he reasoned, keeping his arms up throughout to hopefully prevent any further attacks. “And if she’s truly genuine about that—your words not mine—then I don’t see the problem in it.”

At that, Lawrence finally bothered to sit upright, gesturing widely with his arms in an attempt to get across just how huge an issue this was, to the man who continued to be so effortlessly calm and understanding in discussing it. “It’s totally against everything we know!”

“So is she!” He argued back, also swinging his arms out wide in a lighthearted mimicry of his.

Struck with that final blow, Lawrence let out a loud groan before flopping down again onto the cushy surface of the bed, the springs groaning back at him. Somehow, Tilly’s voice grew even softer as he continued, and Lawrence could picture himself falling asleep to it right then and there.

“Look, I think it’s worth it. Summer’s comin’ up quick, and it might be nice to…” his voice trailed off as he glanced briefly over at where the front door was in the other room, his sleepy partner lamenting the loss of it to the dark beneath his eyelids; smiling gratefully as it returned. “…You know, to be out a little more. In the open air, unafraid of the world. Enjoying yourself for once,” he jostled Lawrence’s closest shoulder, coaxing a cheesing grin out of him that bested the one prior, and a glimmer of satisfaction crossed over Tilly at the sight. “Isn’t that the dream?”

He could hardly even feign surprise anymore, that instinct had been permanently worn out of him sometime in the past decade or so. “You’re crazy,” he answered bluntly.

“Says the man who volunteered to talk to a human,” he heard his lover retort, feeling the springs of the bed shift before the lost pillow was tossed lightly back on top of him. He made no effort to remove it.

Though he did dare to pry an eye open at the recognition of Tilly’s bright, I-just-had-an-idea gasp.

“Hey, there’s an idea!” Right on queue, the man instantly confirmed what Lawrence had already gathered.

Also predictably, and even more worryingly, Tilly began listing off his points first instead of just stating whatever this apparent idea of his was. “It wouldn’t be right away, so it’d give you time to properly assess the human’s intentions as I know you love to do. Plus, just like your position, it would be a purely voluntary thing…”

This could only mean that he was about to drop a bombshell on him, and hoped to get the other party on his side before it hit.

When it ultimately did, all Lawrence could do was grumble incoherently as he stuffed the returned pillow directly onto his face; presumably what was keeping those grumbles from turning into outward rambling. This did nothing to dissuade him, however.

“Come on,” he teased to the man beneath the pillow. “Admit it. Say what you wanna say.”

Under the strain of no pressure at all, Lawrence cracked, bringing the pillow down from this face as he huffed one deep, heavy breath of air.

“That’s not a bad idea…” he admitted, a confession absolutely dripping in exaggerated shame. He moved to shade his eyes from the sheer smugness radiating off of Tilly’s beaming face, backed by an overly dramatic groan.

The springs unfurled beneath his slack body once again as Tilly lifted off the bed, readjusting his apron as he stood. Lawrence recognized it as the one he always wore when working on one of his sewing projects, and instantly the mess of fabric and string across the blankets made sense.

“Want anything?” Tilly asked with another sidelong tilt of his head as Lawrence shifted around to make himself more comfortable, though it truly seemed an impossible task with that warm smile still beaming down at him. With another slow inhale, a scent drifted faintly up to him, inspiring his tastes, though he was far too drained to figure out where exactly it had come from.

“Hm. Do we have any tea in the house…?”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

Part V: “Dissonance” -> (comin’ soon!)

He seemed to comprehend my lack of a response after another moment or two went by and mercifully took the lead in conversation for the time being. He rubbed absently at the back of his neck as he spoke, that same straightened posture of his appearing much more tense than it had been the previous night. Although, this meeting was noticeably different in and of itself. For one, the blonde man’s minuscule form was now spotlighted by broad daylight, and for two, he also hadn’t been sitting this damn close to my face.

“Well, I’m sure you must have a good amount of questions, too.” He considered, an opener that I’m pretty sure could’ve won an award for understatement of the year. The mug of green tea he’d so casually mentioned was still steaming up at me from its place in my grip, my last line of defense against what had quickly turned into an utterly sleepless night. I was equal parts relieved and grateful that he didn’t even seem to mind, much less note that I was in the same outfit I was in last night, robe and slippers included.

At least now his reappearance had marked one of those pressing, sleep-evading, reality-shattering items off my mental checklist:

It wasn’t a dream.

Hallucination, maybe, but then why would my brain have conjured up something like this? Much less someone like him? Confident in the way he spoke, assured in the way he dressed, and, um… of a certain height. In other words, all of the things I’m very much not.

Barring, of course, the fact that he was so, so staggeringly real. Like, ‘human’ real.

Lawrence cleared his throat, hardly even wavering when my miles-long gaze trained back on him from somewhere just above his eye level. “I can’t answer all of them, per say, but I figured there were some things you may as well know. Given our current arrangement, and all.”

Yes, words. I am conscious and awake. He’s speaking to me and we’re having a conversation. About our arrangement—no—it’s about questions.

And answers.

He was really going to answer my questions?

I’m not totally sure why it was the first thing I let slip. There really were more pressing questions on my mind, believe me. But then again, that didn’t excuse basic politeness, did it?

“How are you doing?”

The figure inside the cabinet uncharacteristically flinched backward as though a bolt of electricity had struck him, visibly taken aback. Until, much more characteristically, he’d recovered just as quickly from it, smoothing out the gray of his vest with a palm in order to recollect himself.

It wasn’t long before his quiet observation of his newly righted outfit—of which I couldn’t hope to make out the better details of—broke as his head whipped back around to face mine directly, his eyebrows furrowing with an intensity that made me want to squirm; an instinct that only worsened by his eyes piecing me together like I was some kind of a puzzle. I winced and took one slow step back.

This close to finally getting some semblance of an explanation and already I had overstepped. Great going, me. Fantastic job.

“Sorr—“ I was just beginning to stammer out, when all of a sudden, he laughed. This time there was no mistaking it.

Lawrence’s laugh was a surprisingly warm, heartening sound, coming from a man who mere moments ago appeared so rigid I could’ve easily believed him to be carved out of ice. There was no helping it at that point; I had started to laugh too, in my own breathy, somewhat unsteady way.

Words formed only in between chuckles and a few wipes at his eyes with the back of a hand. “No, no, please don’t apologize. It just caught me off guard, is all.”

His sharp features then fell into all of their usual places as the amusement seemed to fizzle out of him, though that warmth still lingered somewhere, I hoped.

“I’m doing well,” he replied at last.

“That’s good,” I answered back, putting on a smile that I trusted would make me look more awake than deranged. I can only assume it did the trick, by the way he’d returned it with his own.

“You do have… more questions than that, don’t you?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he even voiced it with a tinge of concern.

“Oh god, yes I do,” the answer promptly tumbled out of me, and he moved to cover his mouth with a sleeve, coughing lightly into it before moving on.

“Right,” he stated, a bit louder and more commanding now that his tone had leveled out again. “I thought as much.”

Like liquid courage, I took one long sip of my drink in preparation before setting it down on the nearest countertop, stuffing my hands into the front pockets of my robe while leaning carefully back against the adjoining counter. The shuffling I overheard suggested he too was readying himself, one leg braced against his chest with an arm draped loosely across it; the other hanging down and over the cabinet’s perceived ledge.

“Okay—first things first, are you a hallucination?”

Please say no.

Oh, god, no. Lawrence was really taking his sweet time with that one, wasn’t he. Shouldn’t that one have been a given? An easy yes or no? Internally, whatever knot in my stomach had been untied following our brief moment of respite promptly retied itself, only this time it felt significantly tighter.

“That… seems kind of counterproductive, asking a potential hallucination whether they’re a hallucination or not. But—“ he held out a hand as if to physically stop me from jumping to wherever conclusion I was clearly about to go to. “For what it’s worth, I can tell you for certain that I’m as real as you are.”

I nodded once, with caution, Lawrence watching intently as I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding since the words had left my throat.

“Okay. Thanks,” I ventured, a note of genuine appreciation evident even through the nervous shiver, and I felt his focus shift as I began fidgeting anxiously with my hands out in front of me. “So, that actually brings me to my next question…”

If my eyes weren’t so busy looking at literally anything anywhere else in the room, no doubt I would’ve noticed the tiny smirk that broke across his face right then. I took a deep breath in, then out. Here’s hoping I wouldn’t actually overstep, this time.

“…What are you?”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

Sooner or later, Lawrence and I had managed to chat the entire late morning and afternoon away.

Despite refusing to accept any assortment of food or drink from me, we had managed to talk through a handful of refills on my part, and the man had very kindly offered down a new teabag from the box behind him when I hesitantly mentioned I’d needed one.

Even more to his credit, he genuinely did answer the vast majority of questions I went so far as to ask. Maybe not with the most detailed or lengthy responses, but they were responses nonetheless. And—pun mostly intended—that was really all I could ask for.

He had already told me that they were ‘people,’ but nothing more; that there were more people than just him living here, and that they’d been living there a lot longer than I have. He almost chuckled audibly again at those last two statements, which didn’t exactly help in relieving me of my curiosity. But enough was enough, and fair was fair, and a conversation can only go one way so many times before it becomes an outright interrogation.

Therefore, it was his turn to start asking the questions.

By then, the light slowly but surely brightening outside the windows, we had just as gradually rearranged ourselves into completely new positions. As for me, I’d acquired a seat directly on the countertop instead of simply pulling up a chair, just for the sake of maintaining at least some amount of eye contact that wouldn’t break either of our necks in the process.

Because Lawrence was no longer able to face me properly from the open cabinet without making an effort—something I repeatedly told him he didn’t have to do but he went and did anyway, purely out of politeness, it would seem—he had since moved to the spice rack attached to the wall behind the sink. He made the thing look like a balcony, I mused, coupled by the way he used the barred edges of it as a railing, even leaning into every now and then like he was doing now.

His first choice shouldn’t have surprised me nearly as much as it apparently did, the kitchen’s floral print walls appearing as though they were pulling inward as I tried not to sink further into myself.

“Why is it that you never leave the house?”

My heart shouldn’t have been thudding so heavily, or so fast. My breathing shouldn’t have gone shallow. “I—“ I tried to explain, I really did. And it shouldn’t have been this hard to do so in the first place, complained my roiling storm of thought as it skipped eagerly down memory lane, lighting matches along the way.

“I can’t,” the syllables shook out of me after way too much of an effort. My arms had found a way to cross themselves without me present, hands resting over the opposite arm in a sort of self-hug. Then, “It’s hard.”

All at once, the energy I was already lacking in that day seemed to drain out of me, my clenched shoulders and hands dropping with a sigh. Dreading his reaction to my lousy excuse of an answer, I finally glanced up toward the makeshift balcony, nearly melting even further as my tired eyes widened a bit more at the sight of him; of his expression.

I was expecting disappointment, annoyance, confusion, anything besides the incredible softness in place of his usually stoic demeanor or the way he inclined his head carefully toward me, listening with an open acceptance.

My mind attempted to pivot before any more time was spent gawking awkwardly at the man, and before my insides could knot up any further into themselves. “I’m sorry. Would it be okay if I, uh, skip that question, at least for now?”

If I hadn’t been sitting down, I’m sure my legs would have collapsed under me out of sheer tension or even my nerves alone. Foresight is a truly wonderful thing.

That attentive gaze of his lingered just a moment longer before he let out a light sigh, giving me the go-ahead with a passive wave of his hand.

Thanking him again under a breath, I mimicked his gesture back at him, signaling for the man to proceed with his line of questioning.

Or, at least, I thought that’s what he was going to do. “Lawrence?” I prompted him worriedly after a minute or two, and he seemed to snap out of whatever train of thought at the sound of my voice.

“Ah, my apologies,” he quickly corrected himself, fixing up several more imperceptible parts of his outfit for a second time. “I just… don’t think I have much else to ask you. You’ve answered a lot of my questions already.”

Not wanting to dwell any longer on what in the world that meant, I chose to exercise patience instead, sitting still and waiting for the man to continue. While Lawrence, in contrast, chose audacity.

“You, on the other hand, fairly obviously have more you want to ask.”

I shifted a little from my curled up posture on the counter tile. You didn’t have to say it like that, man, jeez. And yet, putting aside my hurt pride, I could only exhale in relief, looking at him with an almost pained expression even as my lips tugged up into a smile. “Is that alright?”

Once more, he gestured for me to carry on, this time with an open hand rather than a passive, backhanded one. It felt a bit more… kind, I supposed, and it encouraged me to go ahead and spill the questions I genuinely wanted to ask, deep down.

“Could you tell me what the old homeowners were like?”

“Oh!” He remarked, “Oh?” The slightest raise in the pitch of his voice hinting at what I inferred was pleasant surprise. “Sure, I guess I could. There were… two of them, for a while. A man and a woman, I think. One would leave the house for a few hours every weekend in the afternoons, while the other spent most of her time inside the bedroom…”

Lawrence proceeded to disclose several years worth of old schedules and habits to me, all the things he would have to work around on a daily basis just to get by unnoticed. Nothing about the other humans’ personalities, joys, his or her hopes or dreams—which, while his answer made perfect sense thinking back on it, my heart still ached a little at the knowledge that it wasn’t the kind of answer I was looking for. Not exactly.

That didn’t stop me from thanking the man profusely as he had so generously answered me honestly and in full. But also because I got the sense my next question was going to be a tad heavier. “Last question, I promise,” it began.

“Do you feel comfortable around me?”

Something had changed with Lawrence’s face, but I didn’t exactly want to squint at him to get a better read, mostly for fear of creeping the smaller man out. Even so, it didn’t seem like just plain surprise that hit him. There was something else there that made his brows furrow and his shoulders go unexpectedly tense.

For the second time in what was quickly turning out to be the one-sided interrogation I worried this meeting would become, I found my spirits lifted effortlessly by the man’s more than thoughtful response. “You’ve certainly been nothing but supportive, I’ll say that.” He offered, glancing over as a wave of something akin to hope or eagerness washed over me, leaning ever so slightly closer to the balcony he stood on.

It was a look that he did not match. Instead, he turned his head to face away from me, his smooth voice lowering as much as it could without leaving my hearing range entirely; same as he’d never quite broken his sight of me.

“Though, you’re still a human, and that could always change.”

Of course. It made complete and total sense. I was big and clumsy and worth being afraid of. Even though the thought sent shivers down my spine and kind of hurt my big, clumsy, human feelings, who could blame him, really?

Except, for some reason, I kept getting hung up on his idea that I could change so easily, that anyone could change so easily. Call me crazy, please call me crazy, but if that were true, then… couldn’t it also be for the better? And could that have been equally true of him, too?

And hell, if all that was possible, then maybe I could even, you know. But it was a silly idea overall, and I swiftly shook it from my thoughts. Tried to, at least.

“Uhm, if you don’t mind me saying…”

It was a shot in the dark, a desperate reach, but I was compelled to make it. That silly little idea wasn’t as gone as I’d hoped it was, apparently.

“I just wish you all could be more comfortable around me,” I confessed. “We’ve lived together all this time, after all. And, um, since I already know, you don’t really have to hide. All the time.”

What a stupid, inconsiderate thing to say. Part of me wanted to bash my head against either the cabinet behind me or the window between us, whichever would get me out of here quicker. Because there it was again. The walls closing in, the heartbeat thudding through my chest, the focused expression and the searching brown eyes. And then, just like his laughter had done, Lawrence completely took it all away.

“I’ll consider it.” He sighed with an assured nod of his head. “I mean, I suppose I can ask around. But—” He raised a finger at me. “No promises,” he concluded. When no sound followed it, he confusedly turned back to look at me, promptly staggering back at the sight.

“Woah, hey, er— JJ, are you alright—?!”

“Yeah,” I sniffed back at him, rubbing my face embarrassedly with my sleeve. “Sorry, my bad, hah. I just get a bit weird when I’m tired. Thank you, Lawrence. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The small man muttered something I couldn’t quite catch, which to be honest seemed to be the intention. “That’s—“ he eventually spoke up, louder this time as his hand met with the back of his neck again, a motion that was quickly becoming a tell of discomfort. “It’s really nothing. And again, no promises.”

“Right,” the words were muffled through the fluff of my sleeve, half to hide my quickly reddening face from him, and half from the widening grin I knew was hopeless to fight off. “I understand.”

As if the thought had just occurred to me for the first time that day, I twisted my body over and around the side to check the clock on the microwave. It was nearly four in the afternoon.

“Jeez, we’ve been talking a while,” I huffed with amusement in my tone despite the worry on my features. “You’ve probably gotta get home soon, right? No, wait— that wasn’t another question, you don’t have to answer that.”

Lawrence stared openly, though at me, I couldn’t quite tell from this distance. In reality, I wasn’t even sure what ‘home’ was like for him, besides the fact that he lived in my house. It just wasn’t something I knew how to ask during our conversation.

“Yes, you’re probably right.” The man stretched out his legs as he actually did look away from me for once, if only to assess his surroundings, and I realized that for all the world he looked as if a weight had been placed on top of him rather than taken off.

I bit back the urge to apologize. I had done enough of that already. However I genuinely did not think I could thank this man enough.

“Thank you, Lawrence, for everything.”

He had moved on to rolling out his neck and shoulders when he replied, stumbling a bit still on the name, “You as well, JJ.” Simultaneously the words felt both familiar and entirely new.

“Please,” I added softly before he could depart for good, signaled by the sound of him gathering the hook at his hip with a faint ‘clink’ as it sounded up to me from the kitchen floor.

“Get home safe.”

“Will do,” he assured me, an evenness to his tone that—if I had been looking down to see it—evidently did not match his visage in the slightest.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

Part IV: “Chantilly” ->

His request put me instantly at a loss for words, pulling the sides of my robe tighter around myself as I just barely avoided shivering under the small man’s frigid stare. The words broke out of me in a similar fashion, practically uttered between chattering teeth as I frantically jumped in to defend myself. “What? I— no! Of course I’m not, really, I don’t want to harm you in any way,” I stressed, hands raised palm-out against my chest—apart from the one that was holding the drink—as though I were being arrested for some horrific crime I had yet to commit.

Nevertheless, the man appeared unconvinced of the matter. He stood there on an overturned cereal box with his left arm braced around a holster at his waist, of which I can only assume contained a blade or even a potential firearm of some kind. I swallowed.

Perhaps inspired by the man’s unrelenting bravery in the situation, I did my very best to match his composure, leaning slowly back in my chair while keeping my hands high where he could see them. Lowering only my voice to what I hoped was at a mostly unassuming level.

“I do not want to harm you,” I restated with the intent to get those words to stick in his mind. “I genuinely just want to help.”

Lawrence seemed to consider his next words a moment, absently tapping a shoe against the cardboard surface underneath him before a sharp intake hissed through his teeth. If he had noticed my startling at the noise, which I don’t doubt he did, then he made no move to show it.

“Forgive my bluntness, human, but I don’t make a habit of trusting anything that benefits me more than it does someone else. So why is it that you want to ‘help,’ exactly?”

The emphasis placed on those couple of words, on the other hand, could never have gone unnoticed by anyone. They spat from him like curses, swears; like cold water poured on top of a hot pan, popping loud once before dissipating into the night. His hand had yet to leave his holster.

Desperately wracking my brain for an answer to this surprisingly complicated question of his, I reached for the first thing that entered my thoughts. Not necessarily a debate strategy I’d recommend, but then, here went nothing.

“Well, uh, I don’t exactly mind the company…” the words left me on a humorless breath of a laugh, drenched in discomfort whilst being completely devoid of confidence. So much so that I couldn’t help but wince at my own remark. Even though it was said with the intention of lightening things up, and even though it was the honest truth, it somehow still felt stupid to voice that particular point out loud.

And yet, Lawrence just nodded his head slowly, almost solemnly, finally moving away from his holster before crossing his arms against his chest. There’s no way in hell that work—

“Mm,” he hummed briefly, brown eyes narrowing further. “I suppose that does make some amount of sense.”

I admit, I was more than a little dumbfounded at that. But as the moment turned itself over and over in my mind, I surmised that if I was correct about them becoming frustrated with my routine over the years, then Lawrence should know better than anyone just how ‘often’ I get out of the house. Even still, the sheer ease of it did sting a little.

I just sighed and met his nod with my own, taking the opportunity to gradually lower my surrendered arms into my lap below the rounded edge of the table, obscured from the other’s tabletop view. “Right. See? So… I really don’t want to be any kind of threat or a danger to you, uh…” my voice trailed off, searching for a word I knew I didn’t yet have.

“Sorry, but may I ask your name?”

Now it was his turn to look startled. Albeit, his version of being taken aback was the slightest hiking of his shoulders before repositioning himself into his usual perfect posture. It was enough to make me subconsciously attempt to fix my own as I stood up a tiny bit straighter.

His choice of words were as straightforward as usual, and I pretended not to notice the slight tremor that had entered his consistently composed speech thus far. “Not until we work out some kind of deal,” he reasoned.

I leaned forward again ever so slightly, curiosity growing in me with an unavoidable raising of my eyebrows. To his credit, Lawrence didn’t take a single step back, remaining still as a statue.

“Alright. What sort of deal?” I asked in turn.

He gestured vaguely as he spoke, though he still rarely broke eye contact, and I tried not to squirm under the spotlight. “Well, if what you say is true, then, I’d say our current situation seems suitable enough, yes? By allowing us to stay, you’d certainly get the ‘company’ you want.”

Allow them to stay? Jeez, what kind of monster did they think I was? I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to dwell on whatever alternatives he’d just been considering.

“Yes, yes, of course,” I agreed, plainly and without hesitation. “Please, stay as long as you like. I seriously don’t mind.”

It might’ve been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn he huffed out a laugh at that. Out of surprise, maybe, though I desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. His monstrous expectations of me broke apart with the ease at which our conversation flowed; rugged, yet still moving.

“Excellent,” he finished with a slight bend to his lips, teasing at a smile that never quite won over against that persistent composure that once again felt like an unintended mockery of my own. With all the confidence in the world, the man then held out a hand in polite offering. “Do we have a deal?”

I blinked down at him, somehow unsure of what he wanted me to do, despite the familiar gesture. Cautiously, I brought a hand up from my lap to meet his own, initiating the world’s weakest handshake with just two of my fingers and all five of his, plus the better half of a forearm. At least he appeared satisfied with it, something bright settling behind those steely brown eyes.

“Lawrence,” he then blurted out of nowhere, catching me somewhat off guard as my hand settled back onto the table beside him. “My name,” he kindly clarified, clearly sensing my confusion.

“Oh! Right,” I began on a stutter, catching up to myself as my brain tried to make a quick getaway. “Um, and, JJ is fine. You… don’t have to call me ‘human.’ Er, unless you want to, I guess?”

Lawrence shook his head, that impossibly subtle grin of his finally breaking through the ice, despite himself. “Sure. Rather informal, but if that’s what you prefer.” He turned his attention back up at me, a hand rested over his heart in a way-too-grand gesture.

“And thank you for your cooperation, hu— JJ,” he added through a cough, hopelessly trying to disguise his own slip-up as his arm moved across his chest to rest against the hand-shaken one, almost mindlessly. “I never meant to sound ungrateful for what you’ve done for us so far, it’s just that… well, it’s rather complicated, you see.”

“I understand,” I assured him, with all of my heart and really only half the understanding, virtually cutting him off with the speed at which I’d said it.

Once more my mind betrayed me as I was the first to speak up after a short, yet somehow endless pause, this conversation clearly coming to its end as he went to peer over his shoulder to the window a couple of times, spotting nothing but his reflection in the swirling black of night. It didn’t take long for his gaze to fall back to me, though.

“It was nice to actually meet you, Lawrence,” I noted, partly testing out the name. It suited him, I thought. Something elegant, reliable sounding.

“You as well,” he replied, giving me a lighthearted salute and another incriminating look-over before descending from the tabletop and dropping out of sight. I’d barely returned the motion by the time he left, and I rested my head on my arms as my currently passable posture seemed to crumble apart completely in his sudden absence.

The only thing he’d left behind was a faint scuff mark on the cereal box and about a million questions on my mind. My mug had since gone cold.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

Part III: “Questions and Answers” ->

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

The front door eased open with a menacing creak. I shut my eyes tight as the night breeze washed over me, that even in the warmth of early spring seemed to bite at me like a ghost, daring to possess me. But I would not let it win. Not this time. Just remember to breathe, I reminded myself—in for four, hold for four, out for four—as I put my weight onto that first front step.

In complete contrast to the fenced-in backyard, the front was an overgrown wreck. It all blurred into the surrounding darkness as I shuffled down the narrow remains of the pathway in my slippers, nearing the edge of the yard where a pileup of mail had collected by a dense hedge that might at one point have contained a mailbox, now shrouded beneath several layers of matted green.

Slowly, I knelt to pick it up. Shaky fingers curled around the edges of the rain-soaked paper stack when, out of the bleary corners of my vision, something white slid past my hand, stopping me dead in my tracks. It inspired such a state of confusion that I nearly forgot I was outside at all.

“Oh,” I muttered, a breathy gasp of a word from a mouth that briefly forgot it could even speak. Then with all the precision of a heart surgeon on their first day of work, the thumbnail-sized envelope was picked up and placed with the rest of the stack.

“Um, thank you?” It wasn’t meant to sound like a question, but it slipped out that way regardless, and I grimaced at the grating sound of my own terribly unused voice. Likewise, this was met with no response. Although, as I prepared to head back insids, I could’ve sworn I saw a miniature thumbs up from somewhere within the leafy curtains of that hedge.

The front door was shut behind my back harshly and with haste, leaning against it for a moment as I continued to time each little breath; counting four, four, four... until all the leftover tingles had left my body and my pulse had returned to its usual sluggish pace.

The letter. Right. They sent me a letter.

My eyes blinked open, immediately going to search around the deceptively empty house for a tool of some kind. A knife seemed way too much for the task, but then, so did the kitchen scissors. I huffed under my breath as I continued to rifle through various drawers and cabinets, taking care to close each one softly despite the slow buildup of desperation adding a sharp edge to my movements. There really weren’t many options available, when I thought about it. There smaller sewing scissors somewhere in the house, but I hadn’t touched the things in years, let alone remembered where they were.

In lack of a better idea, I reached for the first even possibly useful tool that came to mind, and swiftly took a seat at the small kitchen table to begin putting it to use.

A toothpick, markedly longer than the envelope itself, was nudged carefully under the flap and shuffled from side-to-side at increasingly longer stretches until finally coming free entirely. My previously narrowed eyes and hunched-over posture sprang back open with an air of immense celebration that was felt only by myself in the dim light of the kitchen; but it was felt all the same, and it took everything in me not to squeal with excitement as I shook the contents of it into an open palm.

Because, despite knowing likely what it was for, and who exactly it was from, I in no way was expecting… this.

The only word I could make out at first without the use of a magnfier was “invitation” written in big—well, relatively big—letters at the top of the paper square. Moving to stand did nothing to tear my eyes away from the gorgeously detailed design of this incredibly thoughtful gesture. It simply had to be appreciated in full.

Blindly tugging open a nearby cabinet with the use of my freehand, a glass cup was swiftly utilized as a sort of makeshift magnifying glass, pressing my eye to the back of it after placing both it and the letter down on the countertop. There it was in all of its lovely handwritten glory; an invitation to a start-of-summer festival, followed up by a date and an address. Three days from now, and in my very own backyard.

At the same time I was suddenly so wildly aware of my surroundings, I also didn’t mind one bit if anyone had been awake that late to see the immense smile that broke out across my face then. What I did care about someone else witnessing was what I did next, however, as I gave a quick glance-over of the general area, more so searching for a particular someone who seemed to enjoy sneaking up on me in moments like these.

Coming up empty, I made a quick pivot for the bedroom, trying my best to quiet my already slipper-enforced footsteps even in the wake of a heart that wanted to beat out of my chest, and in all the best ways. It was a nice break from the usual anxiety-fueled reasons, at least. Getting down onto my knees once again, I was left one-handedly fumbling underneath the bed until I felt my fingers graze over something smooth and metallic. If that wasn’t difficult enough, managing to also open the padlock with a single hard was a feat in and of itself. But, I noted proudly to myself, if I could open a letter with a toothpick, then what couldn’t I do?

The sticker-coated lid lifted with little fanfare, revealing a treasure trove inside it that to anyone else may have looked like a typical box of sentimental trinkets or mini keepsakes. But this was so much more than that. To me, it was more akin to an evidence locker for some ongoing case, a corkboard with red string being pieced together one item, one scrap, one gift at a time.

And at the center of it all, was a journal.

They preferred their secrecy, I understood that well and even said as much several times—but my fear of getting someone’s name or favorite color wrong was so, so much greater.

Sorry, Lawrence.

After double and triple checking my surroundings, just to be extra safe, I placed the generous invitation inside the box and shut the lid until I was certain I heard the lock click back into place. Then I tucked it back under the bed and returned to the ever-present task of finding something to busy myself with, made different only by the lingering smile on my face and the absent fidgeting while I worked.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

I’d known about them ever since I moved in, to tell the truth. And, while we’re being honest, I’m pretty sure I frustrated the hell out of them at first. Which was fair. I mean, how exactly were you supposed to find the time to borrow when the human living there never left the house, not even to go and collect the damn mail?

So, I guess in some ways it was bound to happen eventually. Even still, those first couple of years were kept in a state of peaceful anonymity. One that I’d be lying to say I didn’t enjoy to some degree. I would often leave things like food out on the counters just to watch it mysteriously vanish overnight, alongside various other items such as paper or batteries or led... and in return?

When things would inevitably get bad, with me, for however long it lasted; it brought me a certain comfort to know that someone, or something at the very least, was benefitting from my being around. Call it self indulgent, or narcissistic, or whatever else my mind had tried to chastise me with throughout the whole ordeal. Whatever our odd arrangement was at the time, it had worked to keep me going. More so than they’ll likely ever know.

Keeping the noise down wasn’t too much of a hassle, either. Texting instead of calling, listening to music or watching shows only with headphones on, and of course, walking a bit softer around the house after sundown.

I never knew how or when exactly, but one of them must’ve figured out that I knew after a year or two of this dance. And that person told another person, who told another person, until the news had travelled up and up the metaphorical grapevine to their... well, leader, I’d presumed.

He introduced himself as Lawrence, standing right on top of that same kitchen table.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

“Just me, two old wives, and a whole house full a’ kids like you.”

He pointed at her as he made that last statement, tactless as an accusation yet soft as if he were merely stating fact. Ruby, as he’d come to know her over the past couple of days, pressed on. “Kids like— wait,” she paused, pointing the finger of accusation back at him as she gawked, “you have a wife?” Will coughed on nothing and attempted to cover his show of emotion with a coat sleeve. “No, no, that’s not— it’s not like that, they’re together. And don’t sound so surprised,” he croaked. But a sheepish smile snuck across the man’s stubbly face anyway. A sort of giddiness always broke out of him at times like these, where he so rarely got to have new conversations with new people, much less with a new arrival.

The bulk of Cathy’s Diner was empty. Snow cascaded down outside and had begun piling up in front of the doors in just the time they’d been sitting down. All manner of plates, cups, and silverware clattered someplace out of sight, not due to any morning rush orders but most likely from a buildup of last night’s dirty dishes. Ruby finished her plate in no time, nonetheless managing to mop up every speck of food. Her reluctance to eat at first had melted like syrup after a bite or two, acting as if it was the first warm meal she’d eaten in months. God, Will hoped it wasn’t. Sniping out whatever pity she found in his gaze right then, Ruby cast a cutting glare from across the table that he’d already grown accustomed to despite the short length of time their lives had intersected. He simply exhaled and returned to his coffee.

On that matter, apart from first names, he hadn’t been able to get a scrap of information out of the girl. How old she was, her last name, where her parents were or even how long she’d been out there. With so little to go off of, Will could only estimate, and his imagination would jump to the worst possible conclusion every single time. It was a bad habit of his, but then, what he’d seen these past couple of years hardly worked to disprove that.

Judging by the tousled mess of her dark red hair, the dirt on her clothes, and the constant shifting of those two wary eyes—not to mention the smell, not even Will’s old college sweater sufficed at covering it up—it looked like it had been quite a while. Will’s gaze flicked over to his bag lying beside him on the vinyl seat, picturing the headlines of the newspapers shoved inside it that he must’ve read over a hundred times by now. Blurry, rather unflattering photographs taken in the dark. Campers who spoke vaguely of sharp teeth or vicious claws or a terrible spiny figure tearing hungrily at their tents and belongings, sending each of them running for their lives, supposedly. To no one’s surprise, it wasn’t long until every cryptid enthusiast and monster chaser in the country wanted to catch a glimpse of what they’d eagerly started calling the ‘Terror of the Territories.’

Will glanced back from his bag to the little girl in front of him, who was busy staring lovingly at the now-empty plate with her fingers coated in maple syrup, swinging her velcro shoes in boredom as they kicked lightly against the chair.

The hunt for the Terror had ended.

“All done?” He asked to break the silence.

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the table until dropping even further down at the space between her dirt-streaked shoes. Weird, she thought, that her feet weren’t hurting anymore.

And for once her voice wasn’t so sharp or loud or big the way it usually was when she muttered back a hushed “Thank you.” At first, Will thought he’d misheard. But then the man took the opportunity to lean back on the tabletop from his upright position and, with a warm, tired grin on his face, “You’re welcome,” he returned. Because that was the polite thing to do. And because it was the first positive thing she’d said to him about anything thus far.

—

He’d gotten too used to the quiet ones. Kingly, who rarely spoke a word to anyone unless he felt it absolutely necessary; that soft heart Amelia who still had to work on raising her voice a notch; and Molly, who Will had found just that summer, and who hadn’t even learned to speak yet.

Ruby wasn’t any of them.

“Where are we now?” She groaned, arms folded, slumped into the passenger seat of Will’s rusty pickup while glaring out the window at each passing road sign. “‘Bout to cross BC,” he replied. Then another minute went by.

“Where are we now?”

Will focused solely on maintaining his composure. “Closer,” he grunted out. He didn’t bother checking the map tucked haphazardly into the side door; these routes became a whole lot easier once he was headed back the way he came. With that in mind, he knew there would be roughly four more days to go before they made it to their destination. Minus the thirty-something seconds that had just passed them by.

“Where are we now?”

“I’ll tell you when we get to BC, how about that?” He offered. Ruby huffed, long strands of hair blowing away before falling back into her face. “Whatever. This is boring,” she pointed out, making no further attempt to accept nor deny the offer. After a while, Will could only take the preceding silence as her answer.

Except the silence wasn’t so great either. It seemed to be at war with the oxygen inside the closed space, and Will quickly reached for one of the dials on the dashboard before pausing, hovering inches away from it.

“You alright with the radio bein’ on?” He hastily corrected himself, sparing a glance over his shoulder before focusing back on the long stretch of asphalt and spruce trees ahead. In that time, Ruby had unfurled her arms and veered her head to face the dash, studying it with a refreshingly childlike curiosity.

“Why, what’s on it?” She posed in turn. Will tapped absentmindedly on the wheel as he thought about that, putting his free hand back onto his lap in the meantime. “Well, given we’re pretty far out, there’s probably only a couple stations nearby that are on right now.”

“Like what?”

He gestured loosely toward the array dials, “See for yourself,” he suggested with a barely repressed smirk.

Eventually, her small hand found its way to the dial, gripping it as though it might try to sneak away as it abruptly depressed under her crushing hold, turning the system on. A song erupted from the vehicle’s shoddy speakers, and Ruby startled, her back hitting against the seat. “AH—!” The motion even caught Will off guard somewhat, and for a moment, she was like a deer in headlights. “Come on, the Barenaked Ladies can’t be that terrible,” Will quipped, half regretting it as soon as the words escaped him. The glare he received from her end of the car won over the other half instantly. “Sorry, sorry,” he raised his palms in mock defense, “only a joke. You can always turn it off if you want to, you know…”

With that final remark, Ruby had lurched forward with newfound energy and cranked the dial up further, raising the volume as well as switching the station due to the sheer force at which she’d mashed it. “Woah! Okay—“ Will pretended he hadn’t nearly swerved them off the road with how suddenly she’d lunged in his direction. That, and the glint of something deathly sharp he’d briefly caught out of the corner of his vision, vanishing as fleetingly as it came. “Jesus, kid, you don’t gotta pound the poor thing, she’s beat up enough as is.” It was true that this truck was on its last legs—he was surprised it had even made the trip out here. But he’d also been saying stuff along those lines for the past decade, and here it remained, trucking along the vacant streets as they finally passed the road sign he’d long been waiting for.

“Hey, we just hit BC!” He cheered, placing a hopefully encouraging hand on the shoulder of the passenger seat next to him, rather than on Ruby herself. And in response, Ruby gave the most unenthusiastic “yayyy” Will had ever heard in his life. He dejectedly slumped over the wheel as his hand sank back. Although outwardly he’d taken the hit—inwardly, he refused to give up.

The speakers on either side crackled with the voice of some fast-talking radio host, warning about razor blades hidden inside Halloween candy and things of that sort. Will was already starting to tune it out when, out of nowhere, the same exact voice sounded directly beside him, layered over the first, startling the man a second time to such a degree that he damn well nearly jumped out of his skin. Evening out the vehicle that he was still actively steering, his whole head pivoted toward the seat next to him, where the same girl sat in the same position in the same chair, lips opening and closing as if she were speaking. Except she wasn’t. She couldn’t have been. But, she was.

“Wwwwatch out this weekend, folks, your dumb idiot children might eat a knife or something like a fucking idiot and choke on it,”

In lieu of pinching himself awake, Will shook his head once or twice, having to remind himself where he was, and more importantly, who he was with. The breath returned to his body as he tried to ignore the pounding of his heart through his thick coat. Hey, at least she seemed to be enjoying herself for once.

“That’s a, uh… neat trick you got there.” Ignoring the obvious falter in his speech, it was an honest attempt at a regular conversation. Sue him. “But, hey— where’d you learn that word?!”

“Huh?” Ruby then cleared her throat, flecks of spit flinging as she did. When she spoke up next, her voice was the same as it’d always been, if not noticeably scratchier.

“What word?”

Will blinked hard a few times, but continued. “The— the bad one. You know. Uhhh, the one right before ‘eat a knife’ and ‘choke on it.’”

That was the first time he’d ever heard her laugh. With just a small, bright giggle, all the tension left in him had melted away like snow in the summer sun.

And then immediately returned.

“Ohh you mean fucking!” If Will had been drinking right then, he would’ve done a spit take. For sure. Ruby picked at one of her damaged nails. “The smelly people in the woods said it all the time and it always made them laugh a lot. So I thought it must’ve been pretty funny, hah. Why’d you call it ‘bad?’”

“Uhhh. Well. ‘Cause it is.” The steering wheel was getting sweatier by the second. There were two other ladies on his mind whose glaring faces were infinitely more menacing than Ruby’s. “So, maybe try not to say that from now on, yeah…?”

Another giggle was raised at his expense as she whumped back into her cushioned seat. “Ughh, you’re no fun at all. Whatever you say Mr. Boring.” That unwelcome nickname was reinforced with extra emphasis on her part.

“Auckland,” replied Mr. Boring, but not until he reached up to flick the radio off.

Ruby grumbled at the loss of the host’s newly impassioned ramblings. “What?”

“My last name’s not Boring, it’s Auckland.” He sighed a little, stretching his fingers out in readying himself for take twenty-five of this. An eyebrow quirked. “May I ask what yours is?”

A road sign with an animal symbol on it flew past, and Ruby opted to pretend that it was interesting enough to have distracted her right out of the conversation. Her reflection stared back at her, foggy in the glass surface. It made her stomach churn.

“…No.”

It was the only real answer he’d gotten throughout this entire trip. So of course, that made Will perk up, fixing his skewed posture as if he were walking into a job interview.

“Why not?” He chimed back, hoping for a slightly lengthier response than his own. What he received instead was an exasperated flailing of limbs and a flushed, angry face.

“UGH! ‘Cause I don’t know it, okay!?”

All at once, his short-lived enthusiasm promptly died out, replaced by a heavy air of sympathy and concern that Ruby seemed to pick up on as easily as she had at the diner that morning. Except there was no stink eye or scowl or scoff, only a pair of furrowed brows as she curled herself into a tight little ball in the car seat, face hidden, her voice turning low and gravelly in a way that couldn’t possibly have come from a girl as young as her. “Stop asking me things,” she grumbled outwardly.

Her plea didn’t do much to stop the pang of sadness that struck through Will’s heart, though. The lump in his throat was just as quickly swallowed, nodding his head once with renewed conviction.

“Alright, Ruby. No more questions today. I hear you.” He fidgeted with the wheel, eyes searching for an open exit. “Here, how about I turn the radio back on. Would you like— I mean, ah, you can just change it whenever, okay? But, ah— you don’t have to answer that either.”

There was a light huff to his right, and he was relieved to hear there was at least something he could do to cheer her up a bit, even if it was his own mishaps that tended to work well with her. That would simply have to do for now.

An arm entered his sights without the same force applied as before, pressing the dial inward to switch the wanted distractions back on.

“—For those of you just now tuning in, KXLL’s got a great mix of… on tap for today…”

Ruby leaned deeply against the passenger side door, head pressed against the glass. A foot kicked loosely at the floor and, after another stretch of static air, another stretch of road, two distinct yet identical voices joined in with the sound. Will no longer tuned it out.

A light chuckle escaped him, accompanied by a slow side-to-side sway of his head. It couldn’t be helped. “Betchya couldn’t nail an impression of my son,” he challenged out of the blue. Ruby’s expression lit up straight away, exactly like Will hoped it would.

“You have a son?” She echoed, igniting a sense of déjà vu in Will. The tail end of her sentence caught onto the timbre of the voice she’d just been mimicking a second ago, which he kindly pretended not to notice.

“That’s right,” he beamed, sounding positively thrilled with the current topic of conversation. “Not much older than you, I presume. As a matter of fact he turned nine this past July.”

“Is he…” Ruby chewed her lip, waiting for the other to fill in the blanks. “Yes,” he affirmed, without missing a beat. “Yes he is. And as I was saying, it’s given him a voice I bet you couldn’t replicate even if you tried.”

Ruby’s lips twisted upward at the sheer gall of such a dare. “Nuh uh, no way,” she opposed, with all the certainty in the world despite the initial confusion lurking just below the surface of her words. “Try me.”

“You sure can once we get to the house,” he explained between bouts of gentle laughter, a kind of fondness settling across his features then that, from Ruby’s perspective, was akin to a foreign entity.

She looked at him then, really looked, though for what she wasn’t completely sure. A twitch at the corners of his mouth, a flicker in his eye, something to give away the lie. But he only smiled and hummed faintly along to the commercial tune that had begun playing on the radio, lost in whatever daydream he was thoroughly enjoying.

Letting the whatever-it-was slide, for now at least, Ruby returned to the road ahead.

“Pineville, you said?” She repeated, though it sounded more like filler than anything. Though it was still between afternoon and evening, the sky had already begun to darken at the corners, a byproduct of the cold season. Her eyelids had started to feel heavy.

“Yeah. Just off the border.” Will responded. “Not to pry, but, I have a feeling you’ll like it there.”

Ruby mumbled something incoherent back as she allowed her eyes to finally close, the rumble of the car underneath and the crackle of static becoming what was left of the world for a bit.

In that moment, she thought about Will—who perhaps wasn’t as deserving of the title ‘Mr. Boring’ as she once believed—and about his weird son, and this mysterious house she still wasn’t totally convinced was real, and about the woods, and the blurry faces of people screaming and running off into them, and also a lot about French toast and how her stomach no longer felt achingly empty—but full. And so incredibly warm.

“I dunno,” she mumbled after a while, lifting her shoulders in a reluctant, semi-betraying shrug