gotta make it through

In of course, the most mature fashion possible, Rocio pulled a face, tongue sticking out as she made a noise similar to retching. “Stop talking forever.” She held her hand up in the air in front of his face, as if trying to block him out for a moment, before she reached for a drink in the fridge herself. “I don’t get the point of drinking this stuff,” she told him, holding the bottle out to him so he could open her cap up. “People don’t actually drink it for the taste, right?”

Ned pretended to lock his lips together and throw away the key, stepping back when Rocio shifted to get her own drink. He grabbed a beer and shut the fridge, pausing briefly to listen to footsteps that sounded like they were coming for the kitchen before turning a different direction, and then reached to uncap Rocio’s drink. He did it with his hands, which was a cool thing he hadn’t been able to do as a human. Ned shrugged. She’d told him not to speak, hadn’t she? 

With the way she reacted, you might have expected her to be about fourteen years old, clearly too pleased with his playing along, judging by the way she clapped.. “Amazing. I mean– by works I don’t know what you could possibly mean but,” she stepped out of the way so he could make his way to the fridge. “Is that how you won over Vi?”

He dropped his arms to his sides, hands swinging, and laughed at Rocio’s question. “Actually I think she fell for me because she saw how good I looked wearing her lip gloss,” Ned said, pulling open the fridge. He raised an eyebrow at Rocio, pointing in the contents. “You want to have a beer, too?” 

Taking advantage of his head being ducked Violet pressed her forehead against his, her own lips being only a few inches from his. If she wanted, she could have closed the distance and lost herself in Ned. And how badly did she want to… yet, the faint laughter from underneath them urged her otherwise. A low hum of agreement rumbled in her throat, her head tilting forward in the slightest to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It was nice.” Her lips brushed across his jawline, stubble scratching her chin. “But we do have to.”

Only after pecking his cheek softly did Violet finally detach herself from him, her fingers interlocking with his as she took a step back. “I can only imagine what mess they’ve managed to cause already, if we leave them any longer…” Letting her words hover in the air, Violet gave him a knowing look, the shyest of smiles creeping on to her mouth when she noticed the discoloured tinge on his own lips. “Oh! You’ve got a little bit of lipgloss—“ Using her free hand to try and rub it from his lips, she couldn’t swallow back the giggle that broke free. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just — it’s definitely your color.”

It took a minute for the memory to actually piece itself together, since Ned was so distracted at the feel of her, at the small kisses she was dropping at his mouth, on his jaw, his cheek. 

For the first time in a very long time actually, Ned remembered one spirit day in  high school where all of the lacrosse team had come to school in cheerleading outfits. This was back in the day when he’d liked doing all that kind of stuff, had no concerns over the rest of his identity. He’d been able to have fun without feeling a heavy sense of guilt against his heart for killing someone. Long before he’d taken a human life because of his carelessness on a summer night in Illinois, Ned had told Violet the story and shown her some pictures. Him, in a cheer skirt that was too short and a cheer top that was too right to be zipped up that he’d had to wear a zip up hoodie over it. They’d tried some makeup on the team, too, the actual cheerleaders armed with their eyeshadow palettes and lip glosses. Luna had taken a crazy amount of photos. 

Naturally. 

“You can laugh,” Ned said, not moving his hands from her waist, “I don’t mind, I’m just glad it’s me with your lip gloss and not someone else.”

Chou blinked, staring at the other and slowly tilted his head, “Why?” he asked. It didn’t occur to Chou that the other had been in any way rude or even needed to apologise, “To both parts.” he added after a few moments, “Why apologise and why did you think you were rude? I don’t feel I asked anything unduly.” Chou knew he presented himself as… emotionless but it was difficult to do anything else. He tired, sometimes very hard with his mother and only her and it made his body start to shake, one time he’d nearly been sick afterwards. “And I also think you give me too much credit. Several people would have done the same as I in the situation I believe you are referring to.” Though, granted they likely would’ve reacted more to having to commit murder.

“It doesn’t matter that you fear things, what matters is still acting even when you are scared.” He knew that sentence was important, but he couldn’t… recall, why… Chou blinked a few time, his butterfly fluttering into existence and he turned only to focus on her rather than Ned.  

“No you didn’t,” Ned said immediately, “I thought I was rude because I—” He had been rude, hadn’t he? “I assumed you just— I just, I just did, I guess.” Ned shrugged, not knowing how to say the words out loud, that he’d genuinely believed that Chou didn’t have any feelings. The man in front of him clearly cared deeply about many things that Ned just wasn’t aware about, and he didn’t need to be. Maybe someday, but definitely not now. 

“You’re right, but I think, it’s easy to say what other people would have done. But you actually stepped up and did it. I’ll never forget that.” 

God did she feel stupid. Did everyone know who she was? “Hey?” It was a question mixed with sarcasm, she wasn’t trying to be mean, after all, she’d been the one begging for the attention apparently. “Kay– and you are? Don’t tell me another sibling. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised.”

So now Ned knew for sure this wasn’t just a doppelganger situation— very much some Isabelle DNA present in this one. “Uh, no,” Ned said, shaking his head. “Just a friend. I’m part of the Greyson pack. But do you, uh, do you not like having more siblings?” 

“Very serious writer,” Giuseppe repeated in his best impersonation of Ned — which included a more deadpan expression than his usual one— before his brows raised. “Do you realise how conceited you sound mate? And here I thought you were the more laidback one out of the pair of us.” Refraining from rolling his eyes when Ned went on to defend his — in Giuseppe’s opinion — poor choices, he instead leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “Whatever you say, but as a very serious writer, your settlement for the word great is both concerning and unconvincing.” Pep was only teasing though, finding enjoyment in ruffling his best mate’s feathers at any chance he could get. “That’s not true.” He protested, defiance mixed in his features as he thought for a moment. “There was that girl, in that place, we had more than three dates.” Truth to be told, he was grasping at straws by now. He could barely remember half of the girls names he had dated, given the evergrowing string of dates he had been on. “Alright, no one is coming to mind right now but I know I’ve been on more than three dates with one girl.”

“Don’t mock me,” Ned said, pretending to be offended. At the end of the day, he knew Pep supported him no matter what. There were a handful of people Ned was happy to sound conceited around, since he knew that otherwise, they’d just think he didn’t believe in himself. And they always had. 

He tried, for a moment, to actually think through the rolodex of girls he’d met in college and in Hollow Grove, or even the girls he’d heard about— there wasn’t one who had lasted more than three dates. That was, what, a week and a half? Giuseppe didn’t like being vulnerable with women, apparently. At least that was just what Ned could guess. “You haven’t. But I could call my mom and ask, you know, she spends a lot of time remembering stuff about you.” 

“When will people let go of the time I faked my own death to have an edible arrangement sent to my place? I mean the past is the past, right? And I’m pretty sure I’ve done stupider things since then.”

“It’s official, I’m never sending you an edible arrangement. For any reason. Ever.”

Harper took a deep breath of the night air, soothing herself. She wasn’t used to knowing her neighbors, let alone saying hello in the middle of the night. It was… nice? Strange? Somewhere between? Every small town she’d been to had had secrets and wanted to keep them, but that was also an inevitability of her profession. None of these people seemed to have Kit’s shame about what they were. Did it mean that they had done nothing wrong? Or was it that they had no regrets, no matter the fallout? She moved on quickly, reminding herself to write it all down when she got back to her room. There was a line between researching and journaling and she didn’t like that it now overlapped. She always cared about her subjects, but with Kit, she felt guilty every time she cleared a witness in her head. Was she looking closely enough? Had she lost her focus? Was she just lonely? 

“Oh I love spaniels. My favorite part of Thanksgiving is watching their little coats flop up and down at the dog show.” She paused. “Possibly because I can’t cook.”

She took his hand, giving it a good businesswoman shake. “Harper Winston.” She looked down, then gently hummed to clue Cap into the potential for contact. “And this is Cap. Capote.” Cap looked up, searching for the source of his name. 

“My brother does a lot of the cooking,” Ned said, laughing at her description of her Thanksgiving. He could hear her heart still racing a little bit, but made no effort to move. Taking a step back would be telling, and stepping closer would make her uncomfortable. “So I can relate. Bear does flop a lot, though. He’s a really active dog.” 

He crouched, reaching a hand out to Cap and looking up at Harper. “I’m Ned,” he said. “Can I...?”

There really was no possibility for her to smile the way she was right then and there. Not many people indulged her the way her closest friends and family did and even if it was just for twenty seconds it would make her happy. She pressed play again and moved from side to side, opening the fridge just a bit as she pointed at him. “You a calf bitch, you my daughter– C’mon– let’s hear it.”

“Moo,” Ned said loudly, with confidence, as he swung his hips, arms in the air. That lasted for at least ten seconds, and he brought his arms down, pulled in his elbows, and snapped his fingers cevery time he stepped to his left or his right. “It’s the Hitch move,” he explained. “Never fails.” 

“I could show the town my spiri-tits, if you’d prefer?” Phoebe offered, copying his movements and resting one hand on her chest.

Ned clammed up. “Uh,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. “You know, whatever you’re comfortable with. That’s legal. And stuff.” 

Her shoulders heaved in an exaggerated sigh, finger still wagging at him in the most stern way she could pull off, which was not very stern at all. “C’mon, Ned– don’t be a Bitter Betty, it’s been like eighteen years since the last time you had fun.” She grabbed her phone from her pocket just as the song was ending and started over, waving her hand at him in expectation.

Unbidden, the thought came to his mind that he’d actually been having a lot of fun recently, but that wasn’t what she’d meant ( nor was his sex life something to discuss with Rocio ). “Twenty seconds,” Ned said, getting into position. “Time it because that’s all you’re getting.” 

Chou blinked, thinking on the other’s words for a few moments before softy stating, “I fear things.” He just refused to think about them. For Chou, avoidance the entire game… Perhaps that was why his magical affinity lay with illusions. He didn’t seek to trick people, only himself. Not that he’d ever delved deep enough into his own mind to reach such a conclusion, that would require further examination than he’d be willing to make. “Everyones does.” Was a much safer line to give; that and to grab the trash bag filled with gutter muck and tie it into a knot.

“They wouldn’t find much out though.” he told Ned, looking back as he hefted the bag over his shoulder, “There’s very little to know about me save what the whole town could easily fin out.” His missing for an entire month had been big news in Hollow Grove.  

Stupidly, Ned opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again, like a fish. He didn’t know what to say; of course Chou feared things. The man had spent a significant amount of time in the forest, Ned knew. He’d made it a point to read up on significant local events in the town’s short history, and Chou’s disappearance and reappearance definitely counted as those. Maybe it was just because his friend seemed unfazed all the time, but Ned had gotten clumsy. Back when he’d been on the hunt for any and all local stories, trying to cut his teeth on something good enough to get Joslyn to promote him, he’d have paid attention. Not necessarily so he could write about Chou, but because he was still using those skills of perception. Now, though, he’d sunk back into being a little more careless, a little less focused on things that weren’t his family and simply showing up to work to do the job.  

“I’m sorry,” Ned said finally. “That was really rude of me. You’re right, everyone fears things. I think I’ve just seen you be more courageous than I could have imagined anyone being in some situations.” 

Raging drunk couldn’t have been a better term for it. Convinced, by now that the cat was out of the bag–everyone had seen her performing live at the Spring Fling after all– Ever made no attempts at hiding her face the way she had before. The ball cap that had hung on her head a few days before gone, she’d even started to wave at some of the people that looked at her oddly, a challenging look in her eyes as she all but gleefully shouted. “Yep that’s me, the Supreme’s doppelganger. Come one, come all.” She tilted her head back in laughter, loud and obnoxious, too proud of her own words. If apathy wouldn’t do the trick then maybe this would, she clearly wasn’t coping well. “Would you like my autograph?” She asked someone nearby. “Okay, if you insist, but only if you promise to buy my EP.”

“Hey,” Ned said, stepping up to the blonde who looked so much like the one he knew, but wasn’t. This one definitely hadn’t drunk rambled to him one New Year’s Eve about how awful her father was. 

Though— same father, same awfulness. “Ever, right?” Ned asked. “I just wanted to say hi. Introduce myself.” 

“Please, Cappy. Please. We’re both tired, it’s really cold, and I’m sure your dick is retracting fully into your body so can you pleaseeee pee?” She looked at the old white pit bull mix, his eyes clouded completely by cataracts. She regretted everything and leaned down beside him. “I know it’s hard sweetheart but we don’t need a UTI on top of it all. So please go? For me?”

It was then that Harper realized someone was close to her. She held back her racing heart, trying to forget she was in a place she’d never been, surrounded by people who could snap her like a twig. She looped Cap’s leash around her hand, tried to play it off as nonchalant, even though it was midnight. “I’m not negotiating with my dog, you know. That would be both inefficient and embarrassing.”

“That’s okay,” Ned said, taking his headphones out of his ears. He let them dangle over the neck of his shirt, though it wasn’t a great look for a polo. “I used to negotiate with my dog all the time. Bear. He’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. I think he takes the King part seriously.” Though his best friend ( Bear, not Giuseppe ), was in Illinois with his parents, Ned still considered the puppy his. His mother, he was sure, would have something different to say about it. 

He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Ned Ibarra, it’s nice to meet you. And— Cappy?” 

Cat nodded and smiled. “well, that’s nice. Glad things worked out for you and her. I bet she’s lovely.” She took another sip of her drink and sighed. “I mean, I don’t want Stefan and I to get back together… I really don’t think, at least. He seems happy and besides, I’m too busy to date or even have anyone else in my life besides Belle.” She glanced over at the man. “Whoever said two’s were terrible clearly never dealt with a five year old.” 

“That is probably the best way to describe her, yeah,” Ned said, smiling. “I’m sorry about that. Kids are a lot to deal with, but she’s worth it, right? And if she keeps you busy right now, maybe figure out what you want before taking too much onto your plate.”