LisKeepItDown

“Idiots,” she mumbled, plunking Ella’s glass on their table, watching with some satisfaction as it sloshed over the side.  “Someone owes my friend a new water,” she announced. She gave Ella a little push.  “Tell them.”  

Ella, a petite blonde, was already tipsy.  “You dooo!” she said in a sing-song voice. “You owe me a water.  An’ another drink too.”  She threw her arm around Noa.  “D’you want a drink?”

“Here, have this one, it’s an extra.”  Someone tried to put another smoking drink in Noa’s hand.  She shook her head.  

“Thanks, but I’ve already got one.”  If there was one thing Rory and her  brothers had drilled into her, it was that you never took a drink offered by a strange guy.  She picked up her Cosmo and showed it to the table.  “See?”  She took a sip and started to turn back around.  A grumble went up from the guys.

“What’s wrong, don’t you think we’re cute?” one of them called out. “Your friend does.” Noa had no idea which one had spoken; they were interchangeable as far as she was concerned.  

“Not as cute as my boyfriend,” was her instant reply.  “Not even close.”  There were groans all around and at least one figures she'd have a boyfriend, and Noa gave Ella another little push and then gestured behind her at Sarah and Jacey.  “Here, talk to them,” she said.  “They’re single” she stage-whispered.  Her Cosmo was gone, she noticed, frowning at her now empty glass.  “I’mma getting another.”  She pulled Sarah over, changing places so she was now standing in front of the bachelor party table.  “I’ll be right back.”

Noa grabbed Julia, who was dancing with Rhyan and Marley.  “Want another drink?” she asked.  Julia looked torn.  

“We gotta take Rhyan to pee first; can you order me one of those orange margarita thingys?”  She gave Noa a kiss on the cheek and hooked arms with Marley and Rhyan.  Rhyan’s veil was still on her head, but now crooked, drooping down one side of her face.  As Noa watched, Marley tried to straighten it and Rhyan swatted her hand away, protesting that she liked it like that.  Giggling to herself, Noa quickly pulled out her phone and sent Rory a quick I love you, I’m still standing text and turned towards the bar, nearly running into someone who’d been standing behind her.

“Here, I can get your drinks; do you want the same thing as your friend?”  The guy was obviously from the bachelor party; he was wearing the same khakis/button down/backwards baseball cap uniform as the rest of the table and Noa was once again struck by the feeling that she was talking to her brother.  She shook her head.

“No thanks, I got it.”  She tried to push past him.

He didn’t stop her, which she appreciated, but then followed her to the bar.  “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hit on you, I swear,” said the guy sincerely. He held up his hands in surrender.  “I’ve got a girlfriend and she was freaking out about me coming out tonight with all of them.  Other than David - he’s the one getting married - they’re all single.”  He held out his hand.  “I’m Oliver.”  

Noa carefully shook his hand, noticing that he barely made contact before letting go.  “Noa,” she said.  She ordered her drinks.  “Does your girlfriend get jealous?  I don’t mind when Rory goes out without me.”  Because she trusted him, was the unspoken rest of her comment, but she wasn’t quite drunk enough to blurt that out loud.  Oliver grimaced.

“A little, maybe.  But more than that she knows how the guys get when we’re all drinking.  You saw them; they all just want to flirt with as many girls as possible.”  He gave a little shrug.  “She’d probably be relieved to know I was talking to someone who had a serious boyfriend.”  He tilted his head at her.  “It is serious, right?”

Noa’s drinks arrived.  “It is,” she nodded.  “We started dating in high school.”  The orange margarita was sweet and refreshing and didn’t taste as strong as the other drinks she’d had.  “How long have you and . . . your girlfriend been going out?” 

“Anna, her name’s Anna,” said Oliver. “Only about nine months, but I really love her.”  He put her hand briefly on her arm.  “Look, I don’t want to keep you from your friends, but if the guys start getting obnoxious, I may come talk to you again, okay?”  

Noa nodded distractedly; her margarita was already gone.  She considered drinking the second one in her hand but someone was waiting for it.  Julia?  Or Marley?  She couldn’t quite remember.  She turned back to the bar, Oliver already forgotten.  

******

An hour later, things had gotten a lot louder and more wild at the club.  Dancing on chairs had deteriorated into dancing on tables and a couple of bottles of Prosecco had been ordered and mostly finished.  Ella was off in the corner of the VIP section making out with one of the bachelor party guys and Jacey, who was still the most sober but definitely buzzed, was animatedly chatting up two more.  Noa was laughing with Marley and Rhyan, although she had no idea what was so funny, when someone threw their arm around her.  

“Come dance with me, sweetheart, you’re hot!”  It was yet another of the bachelors and he was obviously very, very drunk.  Noa pushed on his chest.  

“Nope,” not in’trested,” she slurred.  “Remember, I gotta boyfriend.” 

The guy wouldn’t give up.  “Yeah, but he’s not here, izzee?” He pressed himself against her.  

Even drunk, Noa knew what to do, and she’d just raised her knee for a well-placed kick in the groin when the guy suddenly stumbled backwards.

“Lay off, Aiden; she’s not interested.”  Oliver gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, you okay?”  

Noa nodded. “I could’ve handled him though.” Julia drifted over and gave her a shot glass of something bright purple.  

“Come’on, we’re doing a wedding shot with Rhy!” she said, tugging on Noa’s arm.  

Noa followed, and then turned back.  “Thanks, uhh, Oliver,” she said quickly before following her friends.

The purple shot was strong, and the club was bright and loud, and Noa was having a lot of fun dancing and singing and just being crazy with her friends.  There was a blue drink after that, and more Prosecco, and when another heavy arm suddenly threw itself over her shoulder she couldn’t keep from stumbling into it.

“Oh damn, you’re so wasted.”  The voice was both amused and familiar.  “How much have you had to drink?”

Noa squinted at her brother.  “Where’s Rory?”  

Gabe rolled his eyes.  “He and Jeremiah are still trying to talk their way into the VIP section.  Sarah got me in but they went to the bar first.”  Noa stumbled again and Gabe’s arm tightened.  “Whoa, watch it.  You better still be standing when he gets up here.”  

“I’m fine,” Noa mumbled.  She grabbed a bottle of Prosecco from the table.  “Want . . . want some?” She raised it to her lips and took a long pull.

Gabe took it from her.  “I think you’ve had enough,” he said gently.  “How about some water?”

“How about you get away from her?”  There was another voice, another body, but Noa didn’t know this one as well.  She took a shaky step back from the unfamiliar figure.  “Iss. . . isss okay,” she tried to say, but her voice got swallowed up in the noise of the club. That other guy - Oliver? - looked angry.  He suddenly reached around Gabe and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.

“She’s with me,” he said coldly, and Noa shook her head.  The movement made her dizzy.

“No, no I’m not.”  She pushed ineffectually against the guy’s chest but he wouldn’t let go of her.  “Go away,” she said.  “Your girlfriend wouldn’t like it.” 

“Don’t make me hurt you.”  Gabe was back, now up in the guy’s face, and some of his friends were taking notice.  

“What’s up, Ollie?  This guy honing in on the girl you called dibs on?”  The newest guy put his hand on Gabe’s arm.  “Sorry, but my friend was here first.  She’s got some cute friends though,”  

Noa was only half aware of Gabe shaking the guy off with a livid “she’s my sister, asshole,” or of Jeremiah appearing next to her brother.  It was suddenly too loud and too crowded and too hot, and Noa’s head was spinning.  She could see her friends nearby, some were still dancing, but she didn’t feel like joining them right now. 

“Where’s . . .” she began, her question interrupted when her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.  She gagged suddenly, and was only vaguely aware that some of the bodies surrounding her jumped away.  

“Ahh shit, she’s gonna puke!” someone yelled, while another voice said “fuck, I’m outta here.”

Noa shook her head.  “I’m not . . . “ she began, although she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.  Her stomach was overly full and sloshy and everything just felt like too much.  Where was Rory?

“We’ll find him, but first I think you need the bathroom.”  Noa wasn’t even aware of having spoken out loud,  Jacey’s arm was looped through hers and she was tugging her in the direction of the VIP bathrooms.  Gabe was on her other side and she leaned into him for a moment. Then he pulled away.

“You got her?  I need to go find Rory and keep him from beating the crap out of the guy who was touching her.”  Noa wasn’t sure who he was speaking to.  She tried to explain.

“He hadda girlfrien’, she said.  Her stomach turned over and she burped in the direction of the ground.  Gabe’s face loomed in hers.

“No he didn’t, that was a lie he told you to try to get you to trust him.  He was hoping you’d get drunk enough to not care about Rory.”  

Noa stumbled dizzily and the arms around her tightened.  “No.”  She shook her head.  “I always . . . hic . . . always care about him.  I love him.”  She hiccupped again.  “I don’ feel good.”

“I know that, on both counts.  Try to make it to a toilet before you puke, okay?”  

“‘Kay,” Noa said.  Gabe was suddenly gone and the arm directing her to the bathroom was smaller and softer.

“Almost there, Noa, you going to make it?”

Noa’s stomach rolled again but she knew what the girl was asking.  “Yeah,” she stuttered.  “Not gonna puke yet.  Gonna burp.”  She did, and something wet came up her throat. She wanted to spit it out but knew she couldn’t yet, so she swallowed instead.  The taste made her gag.

“Shit, hang on,” the girl muttered, and then someone wrapped strong arms around Noa from behind. 

“I’ve got her, can you just get the door?”  Rory kissed the top of her head and she nearly collapsed into him with relief.

“I . . . didn’t . . .” she tried to say.  She wanted him to know she hadn’t meant to give that other guy - that asshold - the wrong idea.  But her stomach gave a thick gurgle and she gave an involuntary retch instead.    

“Shh, I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”  Rory’s body was a solid presence behind her and he all but carried her into one of the fancy stalls in the bathroom.  If there were other people in there Noa had no idea.  Her vision swam and her stomach rolled with an aborted heave.  She spit out saliva, uncaring where it might have landed.

*****

Rory helped his girlfriend to the ground, grateful that the VIP bathroom was clean and airy and fairly uncrowded, pulling one of her scrunchies out of his pocket and putting her hair up in a bun.  She burped over the toilet bowl and groaned.  “Rory, I don’ feel good.”  

He chuckled, his stress from earlier evaporating now that he was with Noa, taking care of her, and could make sure she was all right.  He’d been stuck outside the entrance to the raised VIP section of the club when he saw that scrawny asshole wearing an OSU baseball cap try to pull his girlfriend away from Gabriel.  It was obvious she was too drunk to have stopped him, and only Rory’s trust that his best friend wasn’t any more likely to let anyone get a hand on Noa than he would kept him from pushing the bouncer out of the way and leaping over the barrier.  Luckily Jeremiah had appeared moments later and slipped something into the bouncer’s hand that made him much more willing to let Rory through and he’d been able to run off to take care of his girlfriend while Jeremiah went to help Gabe. 

He rubbed her back when it arched in a heave, bracing one arm across her chest to keep her upright, heedless of the fact that she might vomit on him.  “It’s okay, sweetheart, go ahead and puke and then I’ll take you home.”  

“Where can I find a guy like you?”  Jacey appeared over his shoulder with a glass of water.  “Here.” 

He took it gratefully, unsure, as always, how to respond when someone made a comment about him and Noa.  Fortunately, for Jacey the question seemed to be purely rhetorical.  She leaned against the side of the stall.

“She didn’t do anything with that guy by the way; she barely paid any attention to him, other than to try to be polite.”

“I know.”  Rory felt Noa’s stomach churn underneath his hand and he braced himself.  He didn’t bother explaining that he’d not worried for a moment that Noa had been flirting, or somehow leading the guy on.  It wasn’t in her nature to be cold and bitchy though, and too many guys decided it was okay to purposely mistake politeness for interest.  

Noa gulped suddenly and her body jumped.  She made a small sound of discomfort and finally vomited a stream of almost pure liquid into the toilet.  “Uhhh,” she moaned, and then burped up more, choking at the end.  Rory thumped on her back.

“There you go, get it up.  Don’t forget to breathe though, hon.”  In response, Noa moaned and vomited again.  

“Rory I’m sick,” she muttered in between heaves.  He kissed the top of her head. 

“I know, sweetheart, just keep throwing up and as soon as you’re a little more settled I’ll get you a bag and we can call an Uber.”  In retrospect it would have made sense for Rory to have driven, but he’d had a couple of drinks earlier and even though he couldn’t feel them anymore, he absolutely refused to get behind the wheel unless he was stone-cold sober.  Noa panted heavily a couple of times and then gagged emptily before choking up a mouthful of solid mush that hit the water with a sickening plop.  Rory sighed.

“At least you ate something.”  He reached up and flushed the toilet and Noa gave an appreciative hum.  

“Airy,” she mumbled.  “Nice.” Rory bit back a laugh.  He couldn’t wait to tease her later about complimenting the way the toilet flushed in her face.  He kissed her head again.  

“I’ll buy you a fan just like it for your birthday,” he promised.  “Can you take a few sips of water for me?”  

Instead of answering, Noa retched up more of her stomach contents.  “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then,” he said dryly, rubbing her back more firmly.  “Can you do that again, love?  Let’s try to get you empty as possible so you don’t need to throw up in the Uber.”

“Okay.”  Noa leaned farther over the toilet and rocked back and forth for a moment before throwing up again.  It wasn’t much this time, and she breathed out heavily before dropping her head onto her arms.  ‘Wanna sleep here,” she mumbled.  

“Nope, can’t do that,” said Rory cheerfully.  He pulled Noa back into his lap and wiped off her mouth with some toilet paper.  “You’ll be much happier sleeping in our bed.”  She gave a wet burp and Rory froze.  She’d be really pissed later if he let her throw up in her lap.  But Noa just slumped against him and closed her eyes and Rory gave her a gentle shake.

“Noa?  Don’t go to sleep yet, sweetheart.  You don’t want me to carry you out of the club; I’m sure about that.”  The sound of someone else vomiting drifted out of another stall and he glanced over his shoulder at Jacey.  “That Rhyan?”

Jacey nodded.  “Mind if I go help Julia and Marley with her?  They’re both fairly drunk themselves and I want to make sure they don’t let her drown.”  She waved her phone.  “I already called her fiance.”

“No problem,” said Rory.  He grinned at Jacey.  “I really appreciate your help.”  Jacey gave an embarrassed shrug.   

“I don’t mind,” she said.  “And Noa’s a sweet drunk.”  

Rory laughed.  “She’s going to be a cranky hangover tomorrow morning.”  He nudged his girlfriend again until she looked up blearily.  

“What?” she asked.  This time she accepted the water he gave her and drank about half of it before shoving it back in his direction.  “No . . . urp . . . no more.”  She burped and spit up a little bit of the water into the toilet and then sighed.  “I wanna go home now.”

“I can do that; let’s see if Jeremiah and Gabe want to go with us.”  From the next stall over, Jacey laughed.  

“Gabe left with Sarah right after he finished yelling at the guy who tried to hit on your girlfriend; Luckily Jeremiah kept him from throwing a punch.  I think he’s waiting for you outside though.”

Rory managed to pull his phone out of his pocket without letting go of Noa and sent Jeremiah a quick text to order and Uber.  As soon as he got back a thumbs up and a “I have a puke bag too” response, he shook Noa again. 

“Okay sweetheart, time to start walking; you can sleep on me in the car.”  

Noa gave him a drunk and drowsy smile and let him help her to her feet.  “Love you more,” she said into his chest.  

“Impossible,” Rory answered.  He moved slowly, making sure Noa could actually put one foot in front of the other before he tried to leave the bathroom.  She hiccupped softly a few times but didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of throwing up again.  He fished a couple of twenty dollar bills out of his pocket to give to the Uber driver to persuade him to let them in the car and then slowly directed her through the bar, ignoring the glances and comments.  He didn’t care, but Noa would hate it if she’d been more aware of what was going on.

Outside, Jeremiah had an Uber waiting, and had apparently already explained the situation and given the driver extra cash. The man took Rory’s money too before handing him a garbage bag.

“I pick up from this club a lot; I come prepared,” he explained with a grin.  “Your friend told me he’s a doctor, so at least I don’t have to worry about her passing out, right?”

“Right,” muttered Rory.  Noa hadn’t passed out, but she was barely standing at this point; he was going to have to carry her into their condo later.  Jeremiah slid into the back seat and held out his arms and Rory transferred Noa into them.  “Hold on just a second,” he said before getting in himself.

A group of guys were arguing with a couple of other Uber drivers, who clearly did not want to take them anywhere since several of their friends were actively throwing up on the sidewalk.  Rory walked over to the one wearing an OSU baseball hat and tapped him on the shoulder.  The guy turned around and yelped in surprise before giving him a wary look.

“Hey, it was just a joke, okay?  I wasn’t really going to do anything with her.”  He took a step back from Rory, who had a good 4 inches and twenty pounds on him.  Rory huffed in agreement.

“You’ll never be worthy of anyone close to Noa; that’s for sure.”  He took a step forward. “And you’ll never find anyone to love you at all if you’re still a lying asshole.  Remember that.”  

Not to mention overprotective.  He’d seen how aggressively guys flirted with her when she was in sweats and a messy bun, sometimes even when he was standing there with her.  Going out for a girls’ night dressed to kill was bound to get Noa unwanted attention. But Rory had plenty of experience forcing that worry aside, so instead of giving into the urge to lecture her about safety and asshole guys, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, easily resting his head on her shoulder.  “I like you in this outfit,” he mumbled against her neck, kissing it softly.  “Of course, I’d like you even more, out of this outfit.”  He pushed himself suggestively against her.

“Hey, Jeremiah and I are right here, and that’s my sister you’re feeling up, so I can’t even tell you to go get a room.”  Gabe threw a pillow in their direction.  “Remind me again how many of your friends are coming over and who’s single?”  

Noa gave an aggrieved sigh and pulled slowly away from her boyfriend.  “Six, including Rhyan, who’s obviously off the table,” she said.  “Julia has a boyfriend and Marley’s girlfriend is out of town for work, so that leaves three for you to try to hit on until I point out they’re all out of your league.”  She put a box of White Claw and two bottles of flavored Prosecco on the coffee table and ruffled her brother’s hair.

“Hey!” he protested, swatting her away.  “I spent time on that!”  Gabe’s hair wasn’t nearly as dark as Noa’s but equally as thick, and he wore it just long enough that the waves needed some attention so they didn’t flop in his face.  Noa teased him that he used more products in his “McDreamy” hair than she did, but he couldn’t argue that much because it was usually true.  Now he began combing his fingers through, trying to get the locks in place again.

 “I thought you guys were all going to dinner soon, anyway.”  After producing bottles of tequila and margarita mix and a bunch of fancy plastic cups, Noa began sprinkling confetti all over the table.  

“We were, but your brother made us change the reservation when he heard there would be single women here.”  Jeremiah grabbed the other end of the Happy Bachelorette banner Noa was carrying and helped her pin it to the wall.  

“Figures,” Noa muttered. “He’s such a horn-dog right now.”  She began mixing herself a margarita.  

“Whoa, save some tequila for your friends!” Rory hoped his voice sounded like he was joking.  Even though he’d given Gabe a hard time about wanting to delay their dinner, he was secretly glad to stay around the condo a little longer.  Or maybe it wasn’t so secret; Jeremiah shot him a look that said he knew exactly where Rory’s mind was right now.  Granted, Jeremiah had lived through the most intense years of his pining when he and Noa had been broken up and to his credit didn’t tease Rory about it the way Gabe still did.  And he understood just how much Rory worried about giving his girlfriend her space. 

Noa took a deep pull of her drink.  “I have a second bottle,” she said smugly.  Then her gaze softened, likely in response to something she saw in Rory’s face.  “Which I doubt we’ll even make a dent in before we have to leave.  But we wanted to get in a good pregame here before we get to the club and its $20 drinks.”  She took another sip.  “Plus, I make a killer Marg.”  

Rory couldn’t stop himself.  “There’s food at this club, right?  Real food?”  He felt a sudden hand on his back.  Jeremiah.  “I mean, I could have something here for you later, when you get home.  In case you’re hungry.  If there’s nothing you like at the club.”  He bit his lip to get himself to shut up.

“Or you could get a job as a Door Dash driver and bring her food right to the bar, that wouldn’t be too over-the-top or anything.”  Gabe started making himself a margarita, adding almost twice as much tequila as Noa had.  Rory refused to take the bait and sat down on the sofa so he could lean forward and make himself a drink.  He didn’t plan to get anywhere near drunk tonight, but something to take the edge off was definitely called for. 

“You’re going to owe me a bottle of tequila, and with your salary, I expect the good stuff,” said Noa lightly.  She walked over and settled herself in Rory’s lap before leaning in for a kiss that tasted pleasantly of tequila and lime.  “I wish I could do a body shot off you,” she said under her breath.  Her lips ghosted across his neck and he felt them break into a smile when he shivered. “And yeah, we have a table and I ordered food ahead of time; the club waved our cover charge that way and it actually turned out cheaper than starting at a different restaurant.”  Noa’s mouth continued moving across his skin, supremely unconcerned either about Rory’s worrying or the fact that they had an audience.  “Jacey never drinks more than one or two; she’ll keep an eye on the rest of us.”  She shifted more purposefully against him.  “And I’ll text you so you know I’m okay.”  

“You know you don’t have to.  It’s just me being stupid and overprotective.”  Rory turned his head so he could capture Noa’s mouth against his.  She moved again and he groaned.  “But keep doing that and I’m not going to want you to leave for an entirely different reason.”  

She gave him a saucy grin and ground down once more into his lap before hopping off his lap.  “I’ll be wanting that when I get home tonight a lot more than food,” she promised him.  The buzzer rang and she quickly gulped down the rest of her drink before jumping to get it.

“Not you, you’re not,” she said, pushing Gabe back into his seat when he tried to get up.  “Let them have a drink or two first before you scare them all off.”  

“Rude.”  He flipped her off while she brushed past him to open the door.

Rory had only met Rhyan and Noa’s other coworker Julia before; the other four women were friends of Rhyan’s from other parts of her life.   Everyone was in high spirits, crowding around the table to eat snacks and make drinks.  One of them - Sarah, he thought - produced a sparkly veil from her bag and attached it to Rhyan’s hair with a flourish before handing her what looked like a plastic walking stick with a plastic penis at the end of it..  

“What do you think, Rory?  Do I have a second career as a wedding stylist?”  Sarah plopped down on the sofa next to him and nudged her shoulder against his, and then grabbed his empty glass out of his hands. “And you need another drink, don’t you? “ She leaned forward for the second bottle of tequila.

Rory locked eyes with Noa. This wasn’t the first time he’d been hit on in front of his girlfriend and their method of handling it depended on the situation.  Now she giggled in a way only Rory knew wasn’t quite genuine.

“Don’t get him too drunk, Sarah.  I need him to be useful later.”  She reached forward and grabbed the now almost empty tequila bottle to make herself another drink.  “To take care of me, I mean.”  She giggled again.  Fortunately, Sarah seemed to get the picture immediately.  

“Keep your eyes open at the club then, for someone for me.”   She took a swig of tequila straight from her bottle and shuddered, and then nodded her head across the room where Gabriel had just reappeared after a trip to the bathroom.  “Or what about him?  He’s cute.” Sarah started to rise from her seat, an almost hungry look on her face.

Personally, Rory thought she and Gabriel would be perfect for each other, at least for the night, but he didn’t want to encourage them.  It wasn’t like they guys were going to join the bachelorette party or anything.  Still, he stayed out of it, leaning back and putting his arm around Noa while they watched Gabe and Sarah flirt with each other. 

“What is he doing with his hands?” Noa giggled for real this time.  “I really need to videotape him so I can explain all the things he’s doing wrong.”  

“Seems to be working though. Sarah’s flipped her hair, what? Twice now?”  Rory grinned. “You used to flip your hair a lot too, remember?” 

Noa elbowed him in the side.  “Never.  I didn’t have to flirt with you; you were whipped the minute you saw me in that black bikini.”  

Rory groaned and didn’t deny it. “Damn, I loved that bikini. What happened to it?”  

“Disintegrated from overuse, probably,” laughed Noa.  She frowned at her empty glass.  “Damn, and Sarah took the rest of the tequila.”  She poured herself a cupful of mango prosecco instead.  “Yum.”

Rory was saved from making an ill-advised comment about mixing alcohols by the arrival of Jeremiah, who pushed aside the basket of chips and sat down on the corner of the coffee table.

“Please tell me he’s not planning to go with you all to the club.”  He glanced back at Gabe, who now had his hand on Sarah’s shoulder and was speaking very intently to her in a way that was making her laugh and flip her hair again.

“Oh, hell no.”  Noa threw back her cup of prosecco and stood up.  She stumbled a bit and Rory jumped to his feet to steady her.  “Do you want me to tell my brother it’s time you all left for dinner or should I?”  

Before Rory could answer, Jacey - who had indeed only had a single drink - raised her voice.  “Uber will be here in seven minutes; I got a van so we can all go together.  Sarah, give him your number and you can text-flirt tomorrow; right now we need to leave.”  

Noa snorted.  “Oh, I like her.”  Rory had to agree, as he watched Jacey round up all their friends by the door with orders not to move an inch while she ushered Rhyan down the hall for a quick bathroom trip.  He took the opportunity to kiss Noa rather more thoroughly than he normally would have in front of a bunch of people.  She leaned into the kiss too and pushed her body against his in a way that he knew was fueled only part by her regular physical desire for him and part from the tequila.  Not that it mattered at the moment.  

They didn’t stop kissing until Jacey’s no-nonsense voice interrupted them.  “Yes, you guys are adorable but we have a bachelorette here who’s not nearly drunk enough yet, so can you please keep it in your pants until tomorrow?” 

“Sorry,” Rory said, knowing he sounded anything but. He gave Rhyan a quick hug.  “Can’t wait for Sam’s party next week; I think it was smart to put us all in a hotel.”  

The bride-to-be gave him a tipsy smile.  “I told him I’d take care of him hungover the next morning but not that night,” she laughed.  Funny he didn’t make me promise the same thing for tonight.” 

“Yeah, he’s on my speed dial for later,” said Jacey dryly.  She gave Rory a searching look and then glanced at Noa.  “Do I need yours too?”

Yes please. “No,” said Rory shortly.  “I’ll be waiting here.”  Unmentioned was the fact that he’d set an alert on his phone to let him know when Noa left the bar and got in an Uber.  She knew, of course, but there was no reason to share that detail with anyone else.

And then Jacey got everyone out the door, pulling it shut behind her.  It all happened so quickly that the sudden silence in the condo was stark.  Rory took a big swallow of the margarita Noa had made him and refrained from the urge to rush to the window to watch everyone leave.  Gabe had no such hesitation.  “I got Sarah’s number,” he crowed. “She said she’d text later.”  He punched Rory on the arm.  “So I’ll go with you to the bar later when you go all vampire on my sister.”

Rory rolled his eyes.  Gabe was in rare form tonight.  Jeremiah raised his eyebrows.  ‘Rory’s a vampire?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rory groaned, but it was too late.  Gabe grinned.  “Around my sister he is.  Didn’t you ever see those Twilight movies?”  

Jeremiah’s lips quirked.  “My taste in movies tends to run a bit less . . . teenage girl,” he said dryly.  “Please, enlighten me.”  

Gabe shrugged, unconcerned at the dig.  “A girl I went out with in college - Claire - was obsessed with them; made me watch them multiple times.”

Rory snorted.  “Weren’t you only together for like a month?  Did you have time to do anything else besides watch movies?”

“Anyway . . .” Gabe interrupted.  “The main vampire dude is obsessed with this human girl.  Wants to be with her every second and way overreacts whenever they have to be apart.  Kind of like Rory is around my sister.”  

“Yeah, and I just want to bite her on the neck and suck her blood,” he said lightly.  Gabe had been making the joke for years and Rory had learned to mostly laugh it off.  Noa thought it was hysterical.  

“Well, I just want a hamburger, so can we go out to dinner finally?” Jeremiah put his arm around each of their shoulders and herded them towards the door.  “We can stop by the hospital blood bank for dessert if you want.”  

“Hamburgers sound great,” said Rory.  His phone vibrated in his pocket.  A photo from Noa of a long table filled with brightly colored drinks, some of which appeared to be steaming.  “VIP Section!” read the caption.  And a moment later, “And yes, we ordered a ton of apps.  Love you more.”

Rory grinned at her sign-off.  “Impossible,” he wrote back. “I love you with a vampire-worthy obsession, remember?” 

Noa’s reply came almost immediately.  “Oy. Smack my brother for me.”

“Already have,” Rory responded, but Noa didn’t write back.  He hoped it was because all their appetizers had arrived.  

The sheer relief at closing the door behind him into space that was just his, that he didn't have to hold out or pretend for anyone, where no attacks would be coming, where the world had no right to enter or see him like this...

He looked at himself in the mirror. His suit was straight and nice, his face looked smooth and normal. There was no outward sign. He was okay. He made it home.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. He was early today, but Matt and Seline would soon follow...

God, he didn't want them to see him fall apart either.

But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. They shared an apartment, they shared a room with Matthew. He couldn't hide from them, from the world for days at a time to break in peace, like before when he still had his own place.

Maybe he should have left it running. Lease it for empty, for opportunities like this.

But there was no way to keep them from looking for him there either.

Isaiah shook his coat off half-heartedly instead of hanging it up and went to the balcony.

It was a small balcony, but they had a roof apartment, so the view was good. A piece of sky, just for him.

Wolves always craved open spaces in distress. The walls felt suffocating to Isaiah, the warmth, the light, the promise of company.

He should have at least insisted on having a room of his own to get locked in. Maybe he could climb up on the roof to have some privacy? That would still count as if he was home.

He wanted to drown in a river or get stranded in a forest, or jump from the roof. Didn't think those were exactly healthy solutions though. It would upset them.

He sat in the rattan style terrace sofa, looking at the buildings and then higher, to the sky. It was early after sundown, so the colours were still bright purple and dark blue, darkness taking over.

That was when the pain came. Hot and searing, like a blade, cutting through his heart.

He jolted in his seat, hand digging into the armrest. He expected that, braced himself for it, for his heartbeat to suddenly go from imperceptible to painful.

The intensity still suprised him.

There was a wave of relief as the pain subsided and he slumped back, gulping down air.

His stomach twisted into knots, partly from the knowledge the pain would soon return and partly because his digestive system always stopped working when a heart episode hit him like that. He could feel it churning and bloating immediately, refusing to digest the rest of his lunch.

He stayed quietly in that chair, seeing as the night fell on the skyline and the buildings. The pleasant warmth of the spring day retreated to biting cold.

Isaiah liked the cold. It was somehow soothing against the sweat and the waves of heat that came when his heart seized and made a hole in his insides for the fun of it.

He didn't want them to find out. He never meant for them to find out. He didn't want to destroy Hector's ideal, no matter how fictional. He didn't want Arnie to feel left out. He didn't want them to live with the awareness that their father, their flesh and blood could fail so monumentally.

That they had madness running in their family tree.

He also didn't want them to know how much he had failed. How long he believed in his father and listened to him, defended him, loved him and tried to save him. How many things he did that he hated and knew were wrong, felt were wrong, but did them anyway.

In a way there was comfort to the rhythm of the pain. When it came, it took over his mind and senses so much he couldn't think.

His mind went blank and the thoughts stopped eating at him. He looked forward to the shock and blindness as much as he feared it.

"Oi, Zaya? What are you doing there?" Matthew's voice cut through his meditative agony like a falling star.

Matthew shuffled closer, the balcony door shutting behind him. "It's fucking cold here. Can you see the mosquitos? They are having a feast on you, man. Come inside."

Mosquitos? No, he didn't notice. Least of his problems.

If he didn’t say anything, would Matt leave him alone?

No such luck. Matthew came closer instead, crouching down. "Hey. Zaya. Is something wrong?"

Matthew waited for an answer but Isaiah just shook his head, sighing softly. Matt craned his neck up inside, waving at someone, then sat down next to Isaiah on the rattan sofa.

He put his hand on Isaiah's forearm, stretched down on the armrest. "Zaya? You are freaking me out. Please talk to me."

The balcony door and the net against the flies went open, Seline joining them on the balcony. "Hi. Are we having dinner outside? It's a little dark for that."

She came closer. Isaiah couldn't look at her. He was afraid of what she would see.

The blade cut into him then with a new force and he gasped, bowing down.

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder that second, holding him up.

Seline's much smaller delicate hands came to rest on his other arm. "Hey, sweetie. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Isaiah chuckled hysterically, making them both jump at the sound.

"Is he hurt?" Seline said quietly to Matthew who made a helpess shrugging gesture.

"Isaiah." she rubbed his arm, something scared in her tone.

"They know," Isaiah said quietly, feeling like he went mad himself for he was smiling, pressing one palm against his face, covering his left eye. "They know everything. In fucked it up so bad, now they both know."

There was a stunned silence.

"Who knows, sweetie?"

"Hector and Arnie." It was like the seat was shaking underneath him. Why was it shaking? He looked around, letting his hand fall.

"What do they know?" Seline's voice was calmer now, soothing, gentle. Like she was talking to a wounded bird that could fall off the tree if she spoke too loud.

"About father." That's when Isaiah realized it was him who was shaking. Full-bodied terrible shivers all over him, from head to toe like he had a fever.

Matthew's hold on his shoulder tightened.

"What do they know about your father?"

Isaiah's breath hitched, his heartbeat in his ears. "T-they know everything. A-about the training, and what father did to me...how he his shadow went mad and how I had to- I had to challange him, I had to make him step down- but I couldn't- and then I had to leave, I had to-for the pack I had to- but I had to leave them behind- I had-" he broke off with a sob, not sure if he was making any sense.

"And now they know and now you are going to know, and- God, then you will leave me and they will hate me for it, they will know what I did-"

His teeth chattered together, although he wasn't cold, he was boiling, he was cooking in his own skin. Everything was itching and burning and he wanted to scratch it off, get the feeling off and stop feeling it.

"Sweetie, can I touch your face, or will it make it worse?" Seline let go of his arm, hands hovering.

Isaiah nodded to her, not seeing how this could be any worse.

She pushed a strand back from his face and behind his ear, the softest most tentative touch. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay. Let it out. You are okay, you can tell us."

Isaiah let out a dry sob, hands twitching. He felt Matthew reaching over to drape his arm over his shoulders.

"I did- I thought I did the best for the pack- I don't know, I don't know what else I should have done, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! I shouldn't have- I hate that- I don't want to go back there." He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly terrified out of his mind he would have to go back."

"You don't have to go back." Seline stroked his cheek. "You don't."

"I wanted to leave so bad." The admission made something in him crack, he could feel the crack in his chest, making his ears ring. "I couldn't- I couldn't stay there, I couldn't- but I left them all alone, I should have taken them with me, I should have found a way-"

"It wasn't your fault. You had two bad choices and you did the best you could at the time. You didn't want to leave them. They will understand."

"No, they won't! They will hate me for this, just like I hate me for everything- and they will never forgive me, and I left them, do you understand I left them there, for some greater good of the pack nonsense-"

Something hot and wet ran down his cheek. And then another, little hot droplets of pain dripping into his lap. "And you will hate me too, I'm just waiting for you to leave, you should both leave- but I'm so scared of when you will-" The crack was getting bigger, splitting him in half, cutting him open. He looked down at his chest, expecting his organs spilling out by now. The pain would certainly justify it.

He felt Matthew groan like the words hurt him.

Seline took his hand into both of hers, squeezing, gluing herself to his side as the shivers wracked his frame.

Matthew did something similar, tugging Isaish against his side like a pillar made of steel. His hand landed on Isaiah's.

Isaiah was cracking, but they were both pressing against him as if to hold him together with their own bodies.

He felt their warmth, Seline's scent like fresh breeze, Matthew's chest rising and falling next to his.

Two more shudders rocked him, but he felt them dying down, the shaking subsiding. Only his hands were left, trembling.

Isaiah squeezed their hands back, the grip on Matt and Seline somehow anchoring. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry," he repeated, needing them to understand. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-"

His vision went blurry from the onslaught of tears and he curled into himself, sobbing like a child.

Matthew let go of his hand, which made Isaiah wince, but then his arm came around Isaiah's shoulders, tugging him forward into him.

Isaiah buried his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck, grateful for the cover, for the presence, for the strength. Matthew held him tight, like he was aware Isaiah's ribcage would come flying out if he let go.

Seline wiggled her way under Isaiah's arm, her side against his, her hands wrapped around his middle. Like a warm blanket.

"I miss 'em so much," he wailed quietly into Matthew's shirt while wetting it with tears.

Seline's head came to rest over his heart, holding him snuggly.

They didn't leave.

They stayed like that, in that cold, mosquitos ramming into them.

Isaiah wasn't sure how they were puzzled together anymore. It was a mix of limbs and breaths.

His head was still spinning from all the revelations, his stomach was tied in knots over the emotional roller coaster. If he stopped to think about it too much, he would find new things to angst over.

For now he just felt raw and hollowed out and strangely...relieved.

Things weren't all solved and Isaiah skillfully sidestepped any comments about the chest pain that happened the other day. There were years of secrets and hurts and whatever weird things Isaiah got into his head.

But Hector was going to figure it out. Secret by secret if he had to. Isaiah was not getting rid of him that easy anymore.

Arnie was in an anxious spiral, even though he told Hector himself to go out of the apartment. Turned out he didn't really believe he would manage.

Hector gave him a run down of all the new details he figured out. Arnie was on his best way to draw a timeline to figure out when exactly dad's shadow went mad, when Isaiah's training started, then his missions and what other weird things happened on the way.

It was weird investigating someone who was alive and could answer questions.

Hector found the idea of the pack not noticing their leader was mad and how the hell that could happen the most alarming. A pack was there to hold up their members, cover for what one couldn't do alone. This was out of proportions worst case scenario he never even heard of before.

Arnie was more hung upon the idea of nobody being powerful enough to challange, not to mention defeat dad, aside from Isaiah. Even uncle Grayson, just a few years younger than dad, couldn't defeat him in a one-on-one fight.

Waiting for Isaiah to do that for him? Arnie was complaining about that non stop, even willing to return for a few days to see Grayson on his own. Which was a miracle, cause since coming to see Isaiah, Hector couldn't tear Arnie away from the city.

Of course, Arnie didn't have such a strong pack instinct as a human, but the way he could ignore everyone else when focused on his own goals was incomprehensible to Hector.

Then again, Arnie wasn't all that well treated by the wolves either, so maybe he should stop with the shock.

They talked almost until midnight.

Hector's eyes were falling shut insistently while sitting up. He was exhausted after feeling and purging himself of so many things the day.

When it happened the third time, Arnie made the executive decision to go to sleep.

Hector was out before his head hit the pillow, relieved his stomach was finally steady, even if it sore like he gave it a thorough workout.

...

Hector woke up to a weird keening noise.

A quiet but insistent little sound, reminding him of a hurt animal.

He slid his legs from the bed, rubbing at his eyes. Sleep was sticking to him because of the exhaustion and he didn't feel any danger, nothing alarming him to a foreign or hostile presence.

Stumbling out, he followed the source of the noise to the bathroom. The door was slightly open, but there was no light.

He pushed the door open, switching the light on. The sight hit like a bucket of cold water.

Arnie was curled up around the toilet, elbows on the seat, pressing his hands against his temples in a vice grip. He was white as a sheet, covered in sweat and there was vomit on his chin.

Even worse, when he lifted his eyes to Hector, squinting, they were bloodshot and red, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Arnie groaned as the light hit him, bowing down to wrap his hands around his head.

Hector cursed, switching the light off again, skidding to his knees beside him.

"Pipsqueak, hey, hey. When did this hit?" The sensitivity to light, the pain written all over his face...

Hector was well acquainted with Arnie's migraines. They weren't that frequent anymore, but there was a time when he was around 15 that Arnie would get them every two weeks, like on clock. Hector never felt so helpless as when Arnie cried himself to sleep in a little ball, moaning even when he wasn't aware, against a pain Hector couldn't see, couldn't heal and do nothing again.

Their best bet was usually looking out for the triggers to prevent one coming in the first place. Depending on what it was the meds worked differently. There could be too little sleep, too much sitting, stressed out, food that didn't sit well, some flues even ended with migraines on top.

Hector didn't understand where the hell they came from with a healthy teenage kid. Except now that he had seen Isaiah at the event and thought back about their crappy childhoods...yeah, probably not so weird they both carried something out of it.

It was still frustrating as hell.

"S-sorry, didn't mean to wake you..." Arnie's voice was quiet, careful of his own volume, but Hector could hear the pain and tears written in it loud and clear.

"Dumbass. You should have," Hector chastised in the softest voice he could manage, shifting to sit behind Arnie.

His eyes were adjusting to the dark quickly, but he wasn't suprised to find a puddle of vomit where Arnie's probably didn't.

Hector put his hands gently on Arnie's shoulders. "Did you try your meds? Paralen or muscle relaxants-"

"W-on't stay down," Arnie whimpered.

Yeah, then they were fucked until he could stop vomiting.

"God, Hex. It hurts so much," Arnie whined, slumping forward, all but breaking Hector's heart.

"I know, buddy. Shhhh, try to take deep breaths. We should lie you dow-"

Arnie interrupted the suggestion with a heave, but only a loud wet burp came up. The sudden quick movement made him moan though, shoulders locking up under Hector's hands.

Arnie's stomach gurgled and then swirling sound shot up his throat. The heave brought up a wave of chunky vomiting, Arnie yelping as it jostled his spine.

Hector held his shoulders, helping him aim over the center of the toilet bowl. The vomit splattered loudly into the water.

Arnie hitched, new wave of tears running down his cheeks as he curled up from the pain. "Hhhhurts..."

"Shhhhhh," Hector shushed him, wrapping up toilet paper around his hand to gently mop Arnie's face and chin from behind. "I know this sucks, bud, but you gotta stop crying. It's making you sicker."

When he puked, the pain would spike, making him puke more. It was a viscous cycle hard to break.

Arnie sobbed instead, hands gripping the rim with all their strength. "...God, God, God...we messed it up so badly....

"What?" Hector squashed himself between the wall and Arnie to get a look at him, cupping his chin. "What are you talking about, kiddo?"

"Zaya- did-" he hiccuped, "I'm ssosssorry." More tears sprang up and Arnie choked up another sob, the keening noise joining the scene. "Sosorrry."

Hector cringed, abruptly knowing perfectly well what Arnie meant.

He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner.

What, did Hector think only he would be affected? That only he would blame himself for not noticing, for breaking contact with Isaiah, for forcing him to handle everything on his own?

He should have called Isaiah the moment they found out. Just like Arnie said. Hell, he should have dragged Isaiah to Arnie, let them talk it out.

Arnie jerked out of Hector's hold to heave again, crying loudly as he puked up another gush, then almost choking as it came out of his nose too.

He was panting for breath, chest hitching with sobs and little moans and goddammit this was awful.

Hector shifted out of the way, changing tactics.

He sat down against the wall right behind his kid brother, then scooped him up gently to sit him in his lap. He fixed Arnie gently to lean against Hector's chest, neck straight and head against him so he didn't have to hold his weight.

"Hexxxx, oww, Ifeelsick-"

"Shhhh, lean back and try to breathe. Just breathe."

Arnie was shaking against him, heaving, but Hector stayed put, braced for it. Important was fixing Arnie's back so he wouldn't be rolling his whole spine and neck as he gagged.

A splash of warm liquid dribbled past Arnie's lips and onto Hector's hands circled around his chest.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay, everything's fine. Focus on breathing and not crying. I got you."

Arnie whined, but then sagged against Hector in exhaustion.

Hector set himself to ignore the sensation of awful swelling liquid drying on his fingers, holding Arnie's shoulder from the back with one large hand, thumb rubbing up and down.

"Breathing, remember. Just breathe. Close your eyes and don't think about anything else."

Arnie whimpered, but obeyed, taking deeper breaths. His throat was bobbing nervously against the nausea, but the immobile position and leaning against something helped steady him.

"There you go. You are doing great."

Hector waited for a bit longer, until Arnie's breathing came semi-regularly before he dared to reach for the roll of toilet paper.

Without jostling Arnie and moving with incredibly deliberate slowness, he teared a bit of the paper to clean Arnie's face and neck, then taking more to wipe his sticky fingers.

He threw it all the toilet, but he was too worried the sound of flushing would upset the fragile balance, so opted against it.

They waited silently in the bathroom, Arnie leaning his head even more back against Hector's shoulder, breathing through his mouth.

Hector dared to put his hand on Arnie's forehead, cold and clammy. Arnie sighed contendly, finally not crying.

"I'm so sorry, pipsquak," Hector whispered. "I should have realized this would affect you too."

Arnie swallowed heavily, not saying anything. Then he made a soft throaty sound, that got Hector scrambling up in alarm.

It was a laugh. Strained and small, but real.

"What a historical moment. You apologising to me."

Hector grunted. "You are a cheeky little bastard. Worrying the hell out of me. Jesus fucking Christ."

Arnie laughed once more, dissolving into a cough at the end. His head lolled under Hector's chin. "Uhmmm. I'm cold."

"You feeling better? Not gonna be sick again?"

Arnie's hand went to Hector's hand on his shoulder, patting it lightly. "Not feeling pukey right now."

"Alright. Let's get you lying down." Hector moved slowly, carefully, but his heart was leaping at Arnie responding and being calmer. He unceremoniously picked his brother up, scrawny as he was, carrying him to the sofa.

"Here. Lie down straight." Hector pushed the pillows away so Arnie could do just that, flat on his back, neck on the same level as his back.

Arnie squirmed a little, but when Hector touched his shoulder again, he stretched his legs and rolled his shoulders tentatively.

Hector could feel the stress knots between his shoulder and neck.

Thank shadow it was deep in the night, the light being no problem.

He brought a glass of cold water, but Arnie made a disgusted grimace at it, so Hector left it on the table. He sat down on on the ground next to him with a good view on Arnie's face.

His forehead was wrinkled and eyes squinting, but he was breathing more calmly now.

Hector gently stroked his thumb over the crease between Arnie's eyebrows. "Wanna try the meds? Would a massage help? Or do you think you could manage some sleep?"

"Uhmmm. This feels a bit better," he said softly. "Think I could fall asleep. Just...stay?"

"Right here and not moving," Hector reassured, voice rough, resting his forehead on the sofa next to Arnie's ear.

Neither of them mentioned the crying again, for which he was grateful. He hated seeing Arnie cry and any reason that would cause him to do so.

She had even requested time off work, something Bella never did, normally insisting she could work from anywhere. Luke had seen her work from the hospital waiting room far too many times to count.

Their flight was Friday morning and it was only Wednesday night, but Lucas had everything ready already, from his suitcase, to their documentation, to their travel guide, hotel... Everything he could think of, he had managed and micromanaged, except for Bell.

Just glancing at her messy process of packing made his skin crawl, so he opted for not saying anything and waited until she finally zipped it up, taking far more shoes than he even thought possible for her to wear.

"You know we're going to a tropical island, right?" Lucas grabbed Bella's waist when she circled the bed in order to grab her jewelry, "I don't think you're gonna get any use out of the combat boots."

"You never know, it rains a lot in tropical places," Bella shrugged, falling against him on the bed, but keeping to the task at hand, sorting through the bunch of silver rings she had, "I'm taking it."

"Okay," Luke rolled his eyes, closing her jewelry box, "I want attention-"

"You're gonna have tons of attention, once we're there," Bella scoffed, squirming when he rolled them on the bed and pinned her down, "skull or snakes?" she raised the rings in front of him.

"Skulls, they're cuter," Luke pushed her hand away from his face, busying himself with kissing her neck, "so we’re taking a chastity vow until we land in ?"

Bella snorted at that, picking her earrings, moving her head slightly so he could continue to kiss her, "chastity is a strong word, I've always wanted to be a part of the mile high club."

Lucas laughed, pressing his mouth to her collarbone, "oh yeah, so we can get barred at the customs," he nibbled on her earlobe, "my wife the genius."

"Tonto," Bella scoffed, finally putting away all the items and planting a hand in the middle of his face, pushing him off of her, “help me pack, Luke.” 

By the time Friday finally rolled on, Luke was feeling nearly sick with nerves. They had driven to Portland the night before, in order to avoid the maximum amount of fatigue possible, given the trip ahead of them was stupidly long. Their flight went to Philadelphia, where they caught a 10 hours long flight to London, stayed over the night and then in the morning caught another flight, this one 20 hours long, to the Maldives. 

Luke had genuinely considered talking with Kit about the private jet, but just the off hand mention of his father’s name had Bella shutting down in a way he didn’t like. It didn’t used to be like that before Christmas and he wasn’t entirely sure what had changed since Bell promptly shut down any attempt of bringing up the topic.

Besides, as Jonah had pointed out to him while they chatted in gym, the private jet would need to do all the stops for fuel too, it’d only cut about five hours of their schedule. 

“What’s in your mind?” Bell asked, as they strapped in for the first, shorter flight. Only two hours for Philly. 

“Control freak bs,” Luke scoffed, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek, “my brain won’t stop.”

“I thought therapy was helping,” she teased him, turning her face for a proper kiss, “nothing is going to go wrong, it’s just plane trips. Very long, very tiring, but just plane trips.”

“Uhum,” Luke leaned in to plant his lips on her temple. 

Since they’d be bored out of their minds, Bella had brought an old ipad, filled with movies. Luke leaned back his chair, frowning as he recognized the opening shot of the movie. 

“Jaws? We’re going to a tropical island and you want to watch Jaws?”

“I like to be prepared,” Bella grinned, snuggling against his shoulder, “you did say we could swim in the ocean and that there’s a shark dive.”

“And you want to watch Jaws before swimming with the sharks?” He raised his eyebrows, clicking on the screen and then going back to the list of movies, “you only brought deadly animals movies… Tsunami movie… Isabella, what the fuck!”

Bell slapped his hand away, putting the movie back on, “it's good for you, builds character.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” he said sourly, focusing on the movie. 

The connection to the London flight was uneventful, Luke spending it updating their friends about their current location and taking his own paparazzi pictures of Bell, as she sprawled on the first class lounge, not a thought given to the dirty looks thrown her way. 

He loved her. 

“This is bigger than our house,” Bella snorted as they got in the plane and to their seats. For this flight Luke had splurged with first class tickets instead of regular ones and a private suite, since it was 10 hours long. Bell dropped her carry on in the large space between their seats, which were large like single beds, “really. Honest to God, bigger than my childhood room.”

Lucas knew for a fact this was pretty much true. He rolled his eyes, kissing the top of her head, “and private too, didn’t you want to be a part of the mile high club?”

“Now where’s the fun if it’s all private?” Bella teased him, falling sit and letting out a sigh, “I bet they have cameras everywhere here… Oh man, champagne? I feel like a princess.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her antics, sitting down as well and indulging Bell as she sat criss crossed next to him and continued to talk non stop. 

Three hours into the trip and at least three glasses of champagne each, the instructions of “stay in your seats” were out of the window. Bella had climbed on his lap and she had her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him and letting out a happy sigh as Luke squeezed her ass over the jeans, when suddenly the plane lurched.

It was so sudden that Bella bit on his lip with force enough to draw blood and Luke pulled back with a shout.

“Bell!” 

“Oh my God-” Bella whined, grabbing his shoulders, big blue eyes wide in her face, “what the fuck was that!?”

“Just a drop, Bella,” Luke glared at her, wiping the blood with his thumb, “it’s fine, relax…”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she scoffed, but leaned in to kiss him again, bumping her nose with his, “sorry about your lip…”

“Uhm, kiss it better?” Lucas grinned, leaning further into his seat and planting a hand on her nape, pulling her in. He felt her smile against his lips and Luke was starting to feel suffocatingly warm, face tingling with how horny he was, when the plane lurched once more, this time around continuing to shake violently. 

Bella let out a sound he wasn’t sure he had ever heard her do before, a whimper-cry, and hid her face on his neck, “Luke!”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s just turbulence…” He hugged her close and Bella squeezed him with all her force as the plane shook again.

“We’re getting nerfed down from the sky because of these stupid, expensive, gigantic cabins,” Bella whined, getting out of his lap and putting the seat belt on, a couple seconds before the red sign popped on the opposite wall. 

The plane lowered once more, before going up, and even with the private cabin, they could hear the other passengers squeal. Bella’s face had gone from healthy tan to olive white and she was clutching the arm rests of her seat. 

“I don’t wanna die on my honeymoon,” she whimpered, closing her eyes, “Luke-”

“It’s just turbulence,” Lucas planted his hand over hers, “I promise you we’ll not fall from the sky, this is fine…” 

“It doesn’t feel fine!” Bella squealed as the plane kept shaking. She moved their hands, so she could squeeze his fingers and Luke cringed, Bell had quite the strong grip. 

He leaned in, completely ignoring the shaking and going up and down that was causing his stomach to freeze, “talk with me, baby.”

“I- I can’t, we’re going to di-die…” Her voice shook under the weight of tears and Lucas scoffed, planting a kiss on her temple and squeezing Bella to him with his free hand. Over their heads, the lights went out.

“No, we’re not. Have I ever told you about our flight to Hong Kong when I was fifteen?” he leaned in and Bell shook her head, staying quiet to indicate she was listening, but still not opening her eyes. 

“Dad was touring there and it was my birthday, so mom packed us both to Hong Kong,” Luke smoothed over the important stuff, leaving out the details. He hadn’t wanted to go to Hong Kong and his mom was actually going there for a business trip, not for his birthday. In fact, he wasn’t sure they had remembered it was his birthday until two days had passed, “and the flight was terrible, let me tell you. But we landed without any trouble, it was just clouds-” without any trouble because his mom had been knocked the fuck out by the wine, “we all got there in one piece. We’re gonna get to London perfectly safe too.”

“And- and your birthday?” Bella asked in a small voice. Luke wiped the tears off her face. 

“I got to watch dad play, it was great,” he lied smoothly. He had spent it in the hotel room just outside the stadium his father was playing, puking his guts up after such a horrid flight, while his mother bossed her entire staff around. 

Bella nodded, letting out a shuddery breath and the plane eased up the shaking. She sat up straight, leaning back on her seat and wiped at her face, while the overhead lights turned back on. 

Lucas smiled at her, “see?”

“I’m gonna puke,” Bella groaned, ignoring his soft smile and Luke snorted, before realizing her lips had gone a terrible shade of white. 

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yeah-” Bella cupped her mouth, “Lu-”

Luke scrambled to find an airsickness bag, but in first class these were hidden somewhere – it was not pleasing to imply rich people puked – so he settled for the champagne bucket, removing the bottle and holding it under Bell’s chin just in time to catch the first mouthful of sickly champagne vomit.

She hugged the bucket like a pro, so Lucas abandoned it, in order to hold her hair back with a hand, planting the other one on her forehead to help her support it. Bella let out a loud moan, echoing in the metal bucket, and he kissed the top of her head. 

“You’re fine, it’s a lot of ups and downs…” 

Bella sighed, pulling back and resting her forehead to the rim of the bucket, while Luke waited a second to pull back, “you good?”

“Think so…” she rasped, so he got her a water bottle from the huge dispenser under their seats. She took it with shaky hands, sniffling once more and took a small gulp, as Luke ignored the sign to stay with their seat belts and got up, to reach for his own carry on.

“Wendy told me to bring these-” he went through the contents in order to find the sea wristbands and Bella frowned, seeming exhausted as she turned to look at him… Only for the plane to drop once more.

“Fuck,” Bell groaned, lurching for the bucket, while Luke fell flat on his back on the ground, his backpack hitting his chest. He hugged it tightly, waiting until the plane stopped shaking in order to get back to his seat, and once he did he realized Bella was fully crying.

“Stay-” she let out a little burp, forcing up a pathetic gush of liquid, “in your fucking seat, Lucas.”

“Sorry,” he rubbed her back, “sorry. You don’t have to worry, I’m fine.”

Bella raised her head from the bucket in order to send him a bleary glare, her blue eyes even more blue due to the tears and the fact they were red rimmed, “I fucking hate flying,” she declared, turning back to the bucket once more and Luke cringed in sympathy. 

"Which one of them?" Wendy asked, getting up and checking the price tag of a cute little pink bikini with a matching skirt.

"How many classes are you taking!?" Bella opened the curtain of her changing part, unbothered by the fact she was just in her bra and panties, "aren't you also doing the neurology residency!?"

"Well, you see, I have a lot of free time," Wendy shrugged, "and a lot of energy."

"You should join my boxing class then," Bella zipped up her black leather pants, "Jonah's there and I'm kicking his ass."

"No, you're not," Wendy giggled at the transparent lie, "no coach would ever match you up with Jonah, Bell, he's huge."

"Please," Bella rolled her eyes, putting on her band t-shirt and grabbing her purse as well as the picked swimsuits and bikinis, "I could kick his ass, I know I could," she walked over to Wendy and grabbed the smaller woman by her shoulders, "come up for a class."

"I'll think about it," Wendy wrinkled her nose in distaste. A gym wasn't exactly her idea of fun. Sure, she did hot yoga, but there was none of the loud upbeat music and shouting at each other to do more and better.

"So what else are you studying then, Tink?" Bella walked to the cashier part. Wendy handed her the piece she was planning to buy for herself when her friend flashed Luke's black card before her eyes with raised eyebrows, wordlessly putting it on his tab and Bell didn't comment besides snorting at it.

"Interior Design classes every Monday and Thursdays, yoga every Saturday morning, fashion drawing every Tuesday night... I wanted to try ballroom dancing, but my partner is in freaking Doveport and Jon said he already knows and it would be no fun."

Bella wrinkled her nose and shook her head when Wendy opened her mouth as if to ask her, "absolutely not."

"Boo," Wendy sighed, "I think we should take some class together, it'd be cool. Babs is in my hot yoga class and it's a lot of fun."

"Sure," Bella picked up the bags and they started to walk out of the door, "but not ballroom dancing, thank you. I'm actually participating in a coding challenge right now and-"

"A coding challenge," Wendy raised her eyebrows, "what's that?" They walked the short distance between the store and Wen's apartment building.

"Basically I have to try and design a mockup app with the monthly theme," Bella explained and Wendy frowned at that.

"I thought that was your job...?"

"No," Bell followed her inside the elevator, "I'm a backend developer, a frontend does the design and thinks the interface, I do the math that makes it work. But I like UI design, so that's why-"

"God, you're so nerdy," Wendy grumbled, resting against the metal and grimacing slightly as the movement made her stomach lurch, "I can't believe you didn't get shoved into lockers when you were younger, Bell."

The ginger rolled her eyes, "that's because I was always hot," she showed the other woman her tongue like a five year old, running a hand through her curls and then frowning, noticing Wendy's face had lost its usual pink tone.

Bella opted for not saying anything and they kept chatting, walking into Wendy's apartment. However, the longer they talked, the more Bell realized she was the one doing most of the talking, Wendy getting quieter and quieter.

"Wen," Bella pouted, after spending a good thirty minutes talking basically on her own, "do you want me to go? I don't need to spend the night if you're tired-"

"No!" Wendy exclaimed, shaking her head and moving on her spot on the couch, "sorry, no, I don't want you to leave. We planned you'd spend the night, I was looking forward to that, it's just-"

"It's just?" Bell leaned in, confused and Wendy grimaced, moving again as if she couldn't find a comfortable position, "what's wrong, Wen?"

"My stomach is bothering me," Wendy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red, "I don't know what's wrong, I know I didn't eat anything off, but it's all gurgly and kinda crampy."

"Oh," Bella raised her eyebrows, "do you think it could be hunger?"

Wendy shook her head, "no, definitely not hunger, I feel a little queasy..." she pouted, hugging her knees, "I'm sorry, its just my stomach- I- It's a bit of a sore topic."

"Your belly?" Bella frowned, more confused than before, "you feeling sick to your stomach is a sore topic?"

Wendy nodded, pouting and resting her cheek to her knee, "yeah..."

"Why?" Bella crawled on the couch, moving closer, "because you're chubby? That's silly, babe-"

"No," Wen scoffed, before pausing, "I mean, sorta? I used to have issues with my weight back when I was a teen, which led to becoming bulimic and, well, I don't have an eating disorder anymore, but every time I feel like I'm gonna barf, it makes me feel disgusting-"

"Okay," Bella raised a hand to interrupt her, "your order of priorities is a little skewered, Wen. You should've started by telling me you think you're going to puke..." she opened a small, amused smile, "let's go sit in the bathroom, c'mon."

"No," Wendy curled up more, "I'm fine, it's gonna pass- You're not gonna say anything about..?" she raised a judgmental eyebrow and Bell shrugged, standing up from the couch.

"I don't have anything to say," she said in a nonchalant manner, "I'm happy you don't do it anymore...?"

Wendy let out a snort, noticing how uncomfortable Bella seemed being in the emotional caretaker role. She rolled her eyes, "okay, Bells," but the humor quickly vanished, as her lunch flipped yet again. Wendy let out a sigh, curling up in a smaller ball, "I feel gross."

"You're not," Bella patted her head, "c'mon, let's go sit in the bathroom before you ruin your pretty rug."

Wendy didn't have the heart to tell Bell that sitting in the bathroom waiting to throw up really made her feel more awful, not less. She fidget uncomfortably as Bella rummaged through her cabinet drawers until she found a good claw clip to pull Wen's hair back.

Then she sat down as well on the cold ground and planted a hand on Wendy's back, "you feel a little warm, Wen."

"Isn't that just grand," Wendy groaned, leaning forward and staring at the still water of the toilet. She pushed away, fanning herself, "can you go sit in the living room? I don't want you to see me like this..."

"Nope," Bella popped the P at the end of the word, pulling Wendy to lie against her, "sucks for you, but I'm not going anywhere. Come here- Come here-" Bell pulled her closer, draped across her lap and planted a hand on Wendy's unsettled tummy, "I do this for Luke all the time and it helps."

"That's because your husband is an overgrown puppy, I'm not," Wendy groaned, but she couldn't help but melt at the soft touch. Even if her whole face was aflame, Bella was being really delicate, moving her fingers to the sorest spots as if she already knew them by memory.

The ginger slid down slightly, muffling a yawn and pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy's tummy. The pale skin was pushing out, bloated, and every time Bell pressed it she could feel a string of gurgles under her fingers, traveling up-

"Oh, you silly idiot," Bella scoffed, flicking at Wendy's ear, "the belly rub doesn't help if you don't burp. That's the entire point of it!"

"You're killing me," Wendy groaned, pressing her face to Bell's leg and hiding the angry blushing overtaking her cheeks. Bella snorted at that, continuing the rub.

"I'm trying to help," she whispered, "tell me know if I'm making it worse."

"Not worse," Wendy squirmed, then a burp rushed up before she could muffle it and she let out a whine at the loud noise, covering her face, "oh God- I'm sorry-"

"You're so silly," Bella chuckled, "that's nothing, Wen.”

Wendy cringed, pressing her face further to Bella’s thigh and continuing to burp, trying to muffle them. The burps, that at first were making her feel better, got progressively wetter, until one brought her lunch with it and Wendy scrambled up, slapping a hand over her lips and rushing for the toilet. 

She didn’t vomit, it went back down, but left her feeling shaky, nausea causing cold sweat to break on her forehead and over her upper lip, flooding her mouth with a horrible taste. 

“Wen,” Bell planted a hand in the middle of her back, “what do you need? What’s wrong?”

Wendy groaned, lifting herself slightly so she could press her sick stomach against the porcelain and resting her forehead on her hand, elbow on the seat, “can’t puke… Wanna puke, I feel-” she spat again, the act of speaking causing more saliva to come up, “feel sick…”

“Okay,” Bells continued to rub her back, short nails making a scratching motion, “do you think drinking something might help it come up?”

She felt so horrid, talking about vomiting like that. Wendy nodded, before letting out a groan, almost a sob. Not quite crying, but close. At least this time it wasn’t her fault she was sick, silver linings. 

“Babe,” Bella sighed, returning from the bathroom sink with a glass of water, “hey, you’re okay, it’s just a stomach bug. Happens to everyone…” 

Wendy took the glass with shaky, sweaty fingers and forced herself to gulp it down. The first sip was actually good, pushing back the horrible taste and the stickiness in her mouth, only for the throat to seemingly close up, tongue curling with disgust, making it incredibly hard for the to swallow more-

“Fuck,” Wendy haphazardly shoved the glass in Bella’s general direction, not even sure if she took it or not before letting go and her whole back arching with a violent heave. Nothing came up, but it set off a chain reaction, her belly squeezing before she could catch her breath and another two gags, until a wet burp brought up a huge gush of half digested french fries and a milkshake.

The sheer volume made her feel like she was drowning and Wendy coughed, hacking again and letting out a string of moans as even more puke rushed up, splashing on her fingers, and making her head swim with the lack of oxygen.

“I got you, I got you,” Bella said softly, cupping her forehead and flushing the toilet, helping Wendy lean over it, “get it up, Tink, you’ll feel better soon.”

“Urgh,” Wendy spat in the now clear swirling water, struggling to breathe. Her nose was stinging and it felt blocked, she felt cold all over… “Can I have more- More wa-” she never did finish that sentence, her stomach contracting violently and more puke rushed up, this time actually choking her. 

Wendy folded almost completely with a coughing fit, feeling Bell thump her back and force her to straighten up in order to clear her airways, “big breaths, babe,” Bella tipped her chin back, forcing Wendy to look up, and some clear air to make it through. 

The smaller girl groaned as oxygen came back, her spine giving up on her and she fell back, only for Bella to grab her by the wrists and stop her from swan diving and hitting her head against the porcelain. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck — Hey, Wen? You with me?”

“Uhm,” Wendy closed her eyes, dizzy and nauseous, still gulping for air. She leaned to the left, her cheek meeting something soft, so Wen let her weight drop against it, “feel…” a little burp interrupted her, “really shitty.”

She heard Bella let out a relieved sigh at her being responsive, then the ginger’s hands on her face, something wet wiping her lips and chin. Wendy frowned, a new wave of humiliation washing over her, “don’t do that…”

“Shush it,” Bell scoffed, pulling her to lie against her, “you’re done? Surely you must be empty…”

“Don’t know…” Wen mumbled, planting a hand to her tummy. Bella had pushed up her top and it was still up, which made Wendy feel even worse. She must be a sight. Under her hand, there was a string of bubbles and gurgles, rushing up and causing her to let out a little sickly burp, “don’t feel done.”

“There ain’t no way,” Bella scoffed, but there was an amused tone to her words, “well, okay, do you want to just wait it out here or-”

Wendy forced her eyes open, feeling more than a little dizzy. It took her a second to realize she was pressed against Bella’s side, her cheek against her friend’s boob, causing her whole face to turn pink with embarrassment. She pulled back, then leaned forward over the toilet once more and shoved a finger inside her mouth, only for Bella to yank at her hand. 

“No, absolutely not,” Bella’s voice was harsh now, none of the previous lighthearted air, “you’re not doing that.”

“I don’t feel good…” Wendy whined, spitting in the water, “I want it out…”

“I don’t care, you’re not doing that,” Bella scoffed, then in a calmer tone she said, “let me rub your tummy, okay? Maybe it’ll help.” 

“No, Bell, I-” Wendy heaved, a mouthful of watery vomit falling in the water and leaving her panting, “I need to puke, my stomach feels sour and like it’s burning…” 

“Alright,” Bella had a practical tone that caused Wendy to groan, like she was a little engineering problem for her friend to solve. The ginger got behind her, pushing the glass of water back to Wendy, “big gulps.”

“Not- Not gonna-”

“Big gulps,” Bella repeated, voice firm, “c’mon, Wendy.”

Wendy sighed, blowing out another airy burp and then forcing herself to drink the rest of the water. It landed in her stomach like acid, causing more of the burning sensation that tickled her throat and Wendy groaned, leaning more-

Bella touched her belly, her fingers no longer that soft, pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy’s bloated upper stomach, right where it rounded out of her rib cage. The pressure caused a gurgly burp to come up and Wen moaned, squeezing the toilet seat with both hands, as Bell continued to literally squeeze her tummy. 

She couldn’t breathe properly, making a slightly wheezy sound, and then her stomach contracted once more, sharply, and Wendy moaned her way as another gush exploded out of her mouth. This time it was mostly sour, salty water, but the first gush opened the gates for the rest and she continued to gag, puking little mouthfuls of chunkier stuff, until she finally let out a deafening heave, whole back curling as her stomach forced up the last of it.

Wendy groaned, her knees giving in and she felt Bella wrap her up with an arm, flushing the toilet, “there you go,” the ginger pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Wendy would have started crying, if she wasn’t half convinced she already was. 

She whimpered, pushing her face against Bella’s stomach and falling into an awkward position across the woman’s lap. Bell seemed unbothered, combing her fingers through Wendy’s hair, then moving her hand to her tummy.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pathetic, disgusting, horrible-”

Bella glared at her, “that’s all bull,” she said sharply, “I wanna know how’s your belly.”

“Ah… Better. Not settled,” Wendy sighed, curling up her knees, “I think it’s the flu.”

“I think it’s the flu too,” Bell agreed, “you’re really warm. Think you can stand up? You need to get out of these clothes and into bed.”

“Not now,” Wendy mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut when shaking her head no caused the bathroom to blur, “I’m sorry you had to-”

“Madre de Dio, Wendy!” Bella cried out, “babe, you didn’t gross me out or whatever, just stop fucking apologize. It’s fine, you got sick, that happens.”

Wendy let out a whine, forcing her eyes open, all feverish and emotional and wanting to die, “you don’t think I’m gross? I mean, I-”

“Wendy,” Bella grabbed her cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet, “what world do you live in where we’re running beauty contests on the bathroom floor?”

The phrase caused Wendy to let out a chuckle, pulling back and forcing herself to sit up. She wiped at her forehead, desperately wanting out of her the clothes that were sticking to her, “I guess.”

“You guess,” Bella repeated, dryly and rolling her eyes, “that’s a ten for Wendy Marshall for puking her guts up with class and grace, minor sobbing and almost no mess.”

Wendy’s cheeks caught on fire and she glared at her friend, “shut up, Bella.”

His reputation and physical strength and appearance were one thing, and people probably wouldn't be able to tell his shadow was missing - he wasn't a neanderthal enough to not keep it down in public, thanks - but his awareness cut in half and the sense of vulnerability without his shadow drew him insane.

How did humans exist like this? He was having trouble with three days, he couldn't imagine a life of this.

And he couldn't fucking imagine having to go through this every day until he didn't mind until he could keep his cool without it, until he could call his shadow up. Yes, there were ways to speed up the process, to have the shadow return faster, but he had too little experience and was honestly too unnerved by it all to even know where to start.

Isaiah would probably know.

For all the times he had hidden this from Hector instead of telling him what he was going through. What was happening. How much he was hurting, in the room right next to his.

Why? Why not tell them? Why not let them share in the burden?

Was Hector himself such a burden to him, a problem to be solved and kept in the dark? Was he that untrustworthy, that immature, that behind to Isaiah?

He understood why to keep it from Arnie. The kid was around 10 when all this happened and this was a shadow business, not something a human child could solve or get mixed up in.

But Hector was only 2 years younger. 2 years! That wasn't supposed to be a difference.

He had obviously failed Isaiah in this and he had blamed him and been angry at him and told him such awful things...

He felt his stomach shrinking in itself violently, the nausea rising again with the thoughts, his head spinning. Yeah, he would just work himself up into it this way.

He went to uni that day just to get distracted. Arnie was looking at Hector like he went insane and his every second word was Isaiah this and Isaiah that - like that would solve anything - so Hector was glad to get out of his sight.

He wasn't feeling up to company with other wolves. His shadow was back yes, but he was distraught and his shadow would show it, if he let it up. It was shaky and unruly and damn the thing, showing everything about him that he didn't want it to.

It was always the reflection of the person, the wolf's shadow. How the heck did Isaiah keep his own up to speed, the most powerful one around, with that going on?

Hector's was down for the count just from hearing about it. How pathetic did that make him?

He took the long way around the park and the oper, avoiding crowds with side streets that ran parallel to the main ones. The economic uni had its own areal, like its own little village inside the city, distinct colourful buildings, restaurants, student spaces, everything.

Hector steered away from the shadows he felt in the area, going to the big building with the most student and work spaces with a glass roof. It was fancy and big enough to host all the students without it feeling too full and the view from the upper floors was very nice.

Hector came inside, expanding his senses to check for shadow presences. All clear.

What suprised him was the immediate awareness of the citrus scent.

Ahhh. The subway girl.

It was pretty annoying that after touching her one time, he became so familiar with her scent he could pick it out from kilometers away, in crowded inside spaces crawling with smells, human deodorants and sweat.

The familiarity was also somehow comforting.

He took the stairs up to the third floor, jogging slightly.

The floor had the biggest balcony like view and it was so hot during the day, even in early spring from the giant glass windows that it was basically empty.

Olive sat in the center of the empty tables, drawings and A3 papers all over. It was mostly sketches, covering the the surfaces like tablecloth.

"Oh. Hey," she said at noticing him. "That's funny. We keep bumping into each other."

Oh yeah. Total accident.

"You really come all the way here just to draw?" Hector asked, sitting down opposite her. He didn't need a permission for that, right?

She shrugged. "Best light, lots of space, good view...besides, I actually also manage the economy student board social media account."

"Huh? I didn't know we were on socials."

"Yeah, they are kinda trying to make it more popular. Wanted someone with an eye for design to do graphics and insta posts."

"Art student sounds good for that. You like it?"

"I mean, it's not the most creative thing in the world. But there are hardly more work opportunities for students anywhere else than here. It's like companies hunt at the entrance to catch economy students. It's a little depressing for the rest of us."

For art students for sure. Hector didn't understand what that was even for. How can you study whatever this sketchy thing was? What would you do with that?

Olive looked so happy though. The heart shaped face and those smoky gray eyes....he had never seen eyes like that. And she had such a small chin compared to her round squishy cheeks. He was tempted to come closer and lift it.

He was what? Yeah, weird thoughts all right.

"What about you? You got classes today?"

"Sure."

"Oh really? On Friday afternoon? Everyone knows those are the worst times to get students to actually attend. Even teachers avoid the time like a plague."

Hector grunted. "And you mind so much because?"

She bit her lip. "I don't mind. Just got curious."

Of freaking course he could do whatever her wanted. And he didn't have to explain himself to this weird human girl who obviously didn't even realise who he was.

He was tempted to stay now just out of spite.

Olive huffed and went back to her drawing, trying to pretend like she really didn't mind.

Hector didn't believe her. He didn't want her to really not mind. He knew he had an imposing presence. It would be downright disappointing if she could concentrate with the radiating power coming off of him.

Her eyes kept darting up to him, but she took a new paper.

Her forehead creasing, she got consumed in the motions of her pencil, mumbling to herself.

It was sort of meditative.

A very different world, this girl. Power or standing, wolf or shadow, it all stopped being important. There was her sketch, her skill, her focus and everything else stopped existing.

...

"Hey, you okay?"

He felt her hand coming up to his shoulder before it actually connected, catching her hand on reflex with lighting speed. Like a snake catching a mouse.

"Ah- sorry, I just...you fell asleep and they are going to close the building soon..." Olive watched him with big wide eyes, suprised.

Hector blinked himself awake, senses coming back to him. He fell asleep in school? Ah right, uni, tables, sketches. Olive.

"Don't do that," he grumbled, letting go of her hand. Geez, that was close. He barely kept his shadow down. It was too jumpy to be around ignorant little humans and their casual touches.

She rubbed her wrist at the place he had held her. "Sorry, didn't want to scare you."

He scoffed. Scare him? Ridiculous.

"I know we don't really know each other...but you look kinda sickly to me. You sure you are not coming down with something?"

Hector's eyebrows shot up. "Beg your pardon. I saw myself in the mirror and I look excellent, thanks," he said with annoyance.

"I didn't mean you look bad, I mean you look...I don't know. Sad?"

That was even more unbelievable. Hector didn't look sickly and he didn't do sad.

Hector got up, checking himself in the reflection of the windows. It must have been after 5 pm, but the sun was still up. Just at the right angle to give him a good view.

He looked fine. What was she seeing?

It caught him off guard, her observation. He hoped it wasn't that obvious for everyone else.

"I'll see you around," he said, opting to just go away. He didn't want to lie to this girl, but he also wasn't about to say he was sad.

"O-okay," she stammered, taking her bags and scrolled up papers. "I just-"

Hector sighed, turning to her. "What?"

"I-I," she fumbled with her words under his gaze. "I hope whatever this is will clear up soon. I'm sorry."

Hector shook his head in exasperation, his own ribs feeling like a trap to squeeze his organs. "Whatever."

Yeah, on the best way to clear it up.

...

Hector didn't want to go home.

The walls would just keep falling on him, Arnie would pester him, and there would be a lot of annoying noises from their neighbors he could hear way too well.

He wanted an open sky, a field, something free and spacious.

Heading for the river and the mall that Arnie liked going to so much seemed like a good compromise. At least something wild was flowing there.

That nap was actually the longest uninterrupted sleep he got in the last three days. How strange.

His feet brought him to the mole, where he leaned against the railing with his arms folded, staring at the water. Just a sight without buildings and people. Even if only for a little bit.

He breathed in the windy moist air, feeling his phone vibrate with messages. Probably Arnie or Delaney asking where he was.

"Hector? Oh hey, what a coincidence. What are you doing here?"

Hector felt icy horror clawing up his spine. That voice.

How spaced out must he had been, to not feel his shadow coming?

He turned his head to the side automatically to his older brother just a few steps next to him. His shadow wasn't just down, it was like it was nonexistent. All the wolf mannerisms, the sense of power, it wasn't there with Isaiah.

He wasn't hidden, he was undetectable.

Hector felt all the thoughts and feelings he had been running away from the whole day pushing their way up. His stomach flipped, the face of his father flashing in front of him. Isaiah and him actually looked really alike. He didn't realize how much until now.

"No. I don't want to see you," he said, rushing by Isaiah and out of the mole as quickly as he could without running. He couldn't deal with this right now.

Fucking coincidence for real? Or Arnie set this up somehow, knowing Hector would be here?

"What? Why not?" Isaiah sounded hurt and disappointed, following after him.

"Just leave me alone." Hector reached the shore, stomach cramping painfully. He was never one to get sick from nerves, but damn, this was another level.

"Wait, wait, wait, I thought we were doing better..." Isaiah caught up with him no problem, grabbing him by the arm. "What's going on? Are you going back to avoiding me? What did I do?"

What did you do?! What did I do!

Hector wanted to shake him off, but Isaiah took him by both shoulders as if he wanted to rattle an answer out of him.

Hector couldn't breathe, throat closing all up. He sagged forward and then was surprisingly spared from answering when his stomach plummeted into his throat.

Hector threw up, loud and violent in between their feet.

Isaiah jumped back with a yelp, while Hector bend over even more, another wave of his lunch hitting the pavement of the molo. There were chunks of carrots and potatoes stuck in his throat and it set off a coughing fit.

Isaiah didn't take long to recover. The next second, he was by his side, tentatively placing his hand on Hector's back. "Hey, you are okay. Just breathe, alright?"

There was his big brother, all guilt and soft concern when Hector couldn't do any little measly thing for him. No wonder he kept his real life separated from theirs.

That made his stomach cramp again and Hector groaned, wrapping an arm around himself as he gagged. Vomit shot up his throat, but didn't come all the way, though the strain left him woozy.

"Let's get off the main road, shall we?" Isaiah said, taking Hector by the shoulder and steering him away from the promenade and the occasional onlookers Hector was somehow successfully ignoring, shadow or not.

He stumbled blindly into the direction Isaiah chose, registering slowly that they were now under the molo, hidden from view and by the water.

Hector let himself sink to his knees, gulping down air as his stomach heaved and heaved inside him. He held both his hands around his stomach, folded in half. It would feel entirely stupid if it wasn't so fucking painful.

Isaiah was, of course, kneeling next to him, hand rubbing light circled onto his back. "What brought this on? Hex?"

Hector winced at the nickname, the guilt bringing out a series of burps as his body broke itself in two, somewhere between anger and fear, humiliation and pathetic remorse. "Get off of me," he managed between panting breaths.

He felt Isaiah's hand freeze at his back, falling limply to his side. "Hex. What's wrong? Are you sick? Please, talk to me."

Hector burped up a string of bile this time, making a broken sound between a sob and a hysteric chuckle. "Talk - hic - to you? For real?"

Another violent heave would have him almost losing his balance if not for Isaiah's arm shooting up to hold him up around the chest. Hector burped around the hand, a mouthful of puke slowly dripping onto the grass.

Isaiah didn't move, like that didn't matter in the least, eyes focused on Hector's face. Green and sparkly. They looked so much like their dad's but somehow, Hector now saw, were nothing like them.

"I don't know what you mean, Hex."

"Oh, fucking hell you don't. No point hiding it now." Hector spat on the ground, clearing his mouth.

Isaiah stiffened next to him, though didn't let go.

Hector straightened up, watching the realization smooth his brother's features from open concern to that cold, unfeeling mask. That wall he hid behind for so long made Hector think it was real.

Is this how he looked when he was hurting? How many times did Hector look at that expression without seeing it?

"What exactly do you think you know and who told you?" Isaiah asked with deadly calmness.

"Oh, you can guess twice," Hector swiped his sleeve over his mouth, leaning back to sit on his butt. "Dad was all happy to tell me about all the things he did to you for training."

Isaiah sat back, crossed-legged, leaning away from Hector to watch the river.

A long moment of silence passed between them. Hector wasn't sure if it was a minute or an hour, but it felt like an eternity to him, his nerves scraping against each other like sandpaper.

"Not gonna say anything?!" Hector snapped. "So I will have to be the one to talk? Fine. I’ll talk. Cause this is the same expression I get when we talk about the big damn secret."

Isaiah said nothing, lips pressed tightly together.

"Silver knives? Rolling down your shadow? How much more brutal was it?" Hector looked down at the grass between them, another chasm he couldn't bridge. "And you kept it all to yourself. Pretending like it was fine, like you wanted to be the Executioner, like you believed in it. And I thought-" he broke off with a shuddering breath. "I didn't know. I had no fucking idea. I don't know why I didn't realize. You were right there in front of me, but you also weren't and I didn't-"

Why was he so blind? Was he truly so focused on himself, on defeating the image of Isaiah that he didn't notice what was happening to the real him? When did he lose track of him like that?

"God and he wanted us to be separated by that. He wanted me to- and I fucking helped him. I was so jealous and ignorant and I wanted to hurt you...I was the one blaming you, I kept Arnie from contacting you sooner, I kept trying to hurt you every time we would see each other..." Hector's breathing picked up again, his stomach twisting painfully. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his temples, bowing down.

"Hector-"

The lack of the nickname this time hit him like a punch.

"That time at the event- with your chest and how it wouldn't stop hurting and your shadow wasn't helping...did I...do that to you?" The idea made his chest tight, all strained like glass just before breaking. "I did that to you," he sobbed, curling up around his hurting middle, little stars dancing in his vision from how much he pressed his eyes shut. "I did all of that to you, I broke you, without even knowing, blaming you, while I chased you off-"

Cold hand was suddenly on his face, cupping his cheek. Hector's breath hitched, mind racing and spinning he felt like puking all over again.

"Look at me. Come on, look at me." There was the commanding tone. There was the shutting down. They couldn't even talk about it without Isaiah-

Isaiah forced Hector to look up from that curled-up position, holding his cheeks in his hands.

The mask wasn't all gone, but Isaiah's expression was like a crumpled paper. "Stop making this up. I didn't leave because of you. I didn't keep it a secret because I hated you or because I blamed you or whatever you are stringing up here. Hey."

Hector choked on his own breathing, panting and folding into himself as his middle cramped up again.

"You gotta breathe, bud. Take a deep breath for me."

"C-can't-"

"Yes, you can. You are panicking right now, but there is nothing physically wrong. Deep breaths now, come on." Isaiah reached behind Hector's head and gently pushed him against his chest, forehead first. Hector could feel Isaiah's loud breathing, chest puffing out, pressed against him like that. He latched onto that sound, trying to mimic it.

They stayed like that for several long minutes, Isaiah waiting till Hector figured out how to breathe again.

"There you go. Shhhh. You are alright. In and out, just like that." Isaiah's hand was tangled in the hair on the back of Hector's head.

Hector nodded against him. As his lungs filled with air and relief, guilt followed right behind. How was he so easily reassured just with Isaiah there? After everything he did and especially didn't manage to do for him, that was entirely unfair.

His chest hitched and a sob broke out.

Isaiah wrapped his arms around him then, gentle and careful, as if he expected Hector to break out of the hug at any moment. "Shhhhh. None of that is true. Remember the old wolf caught in the trap story? How he chewed through his leg to escape, not because the young ones pushed him in but because he saw no other way out?"

Hector made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, burying his face deeper into Isaiah's shirt, eyes burning. "Then why? When it wasn't because of what I did-"

“You have a talent to make things all about yourself,” Isaiah sighed. “...there were various complicated pack internal reasons why I needed to leave. For one, I forced father to step down on my 18th birthday. The one who defeats the leader should lead or die, remember? I brought the whole pack’s rage on me by challenging father like that and then stepped away. But that was way better than having them realize father was mad. That would have destroyed the pack with all its opposing factions and families altogether.”

Isaiah was still stroking Hector’s hair, sounding thoughtful. “Me and Grayson came up with the plan together. He would take over the pack and fix it, more experienced than me. And I would become the enemy to unite the pack together. They would be distracted from the truth and forced to get along. The pack preserved."

Hector forced himself to leave the safe comforting closeness of Isaiah’s chest, leaning back to get a proper look at him. Isaiah’s face seemed so open and tranquil now, but something wasn’t sitting right.

“You took it all on yourself and I made it worse. I’m sorry,” Hector said.

Isaiah shrugged. “Don’t be. I don’t blame you.”

Hector scowled angrily, swiping a sleeve over his eyes to get rid of the moisture. “Well, you fucking should! You did the best for the pack and I was being an ass-”

Isaiah grimaced. “And you were right to do so. Think about it. I did everything for the pack. I did the best for the pack and the balance of packs and for everybody else. But I left you. I left you and Arnie and let myself take the role of the bad guy, far away from you. That is unforgivable. And you were rightfully angry at me, even if you didn’t know what the actual fault was.”

“Oh, because you totally deserved that after years of that abusive training, hiding father’s shadow went mad and protecting us and the pack all by yourself,” Hector fumed.

“You don’t know everything that I did,” Isaiah protested quietly. “Half of those things were my fault to begin with, because I was too slow or too stupid to realize or didn’t know bet-”

“And who gets to decide that? You?" Hector clenched his fists, internally set on finding out the whole story—every detail, every decision—to make his own conclusions about it. He suspected Isaiah was much stricter in his judgments than necessary.

Isaiah looked taken aback. Then he suddenly chuckled. "Huh. Looks like no matter what I do, I still piss you off."