world.search(you)

benji had an uneasy feeling the whole night. no matter where he looked, it always felt like eyes had just darted away. narrowly missed judgmental glares. one of the only invited guests that nobody quite understood why. he knew the castros saw right through him. it was easy to hide from his peers, but the parents? near impossible. they might not recognize his family name, but wasn't that enough? they only barely believed that his parents were from the town over. but they didn't care enough to dig any further. benji was barely a blip on their radar. he got an invite because of romy. maybe because of their quartet. it didn't matter that he knew amelia, that he felt close to her at one point. even if that changed. since he walked through the threshold, al he could think about was her diary. the harsh words. it didn't seem like the amelia he knew. though, maybe he couldn't judge. he wasn't what he seemed to those closest to him either. except to maybe one. he would be a liar if he said he hadn't been watching kiri all night. he had also been watching all the eyes on her. she might be the only other person with the same kind of looks he got. sure, there were plenty of others in their group that had the black mark of shame on them, but it was different for the two of them. at least in benji's eyes. the number of times he had to bite his tongue had become countless. he wasn't even sure they were talking about her, or maia, but his gut lurched at the thought of it. he had been biding his time, waiting for his moment. when kiri was finally alone, and all the eyes had found other subjects of judgement, benji moved. he passed by her, hand finding the small of her back, he whispered softly to her ear as he passed behind her, "follow me," and he slipped away. he made his way to the gap between the house and the high fence, glancing over his shoulder to see if she would follow.

maia isn't here though, only her child. not that that stops anyone from their usual habits. only a few feet away, mrs. asante has launched into a thrilling retelling of mr. castro's scandalous and immoral behavior over dinner to her husband. of course, it's immediately followed by her dismissing it as an understandable result of the stress he must be under after amelia's disappearance, and a followup from mr. asante on how unfortunate it is that 'she' would take advantage of him in such a state. ah, well can't be too surprised, what with maia being maia and all, mrs. asante responds. it's just a shame how it reflects on poor kiri. hearing this, kiri snorts. instantly coming to mind is amelia's scrawled am i merciful enough to let her separate herself from the sins of her mother ? wherever amelia is now, kiri thinks she'll be happy to know that a pastor and his wife agree with the answer she ultimately came to.

long after the asantes have moved on, kiri still finds herself thinking about it. perhaps that's how benji is able to get so close without her noticing, whole body bristling as his palm finds their back and his breath the shell of their ear. it's some nerve he's got, expecting her to so diligently follow the moment he says to. her already crossed arms fold tighter into themselves, a stubborn wish to deny him what he wants and stay firmly rooted in place trying to take hold. but then he looks over his shoulder at her, dark eyes meeting hers, and suddenly she's back at the dinner table, wide-eyed with disbelief as he says javier's name in front of the very people she knows he's twisted himself into knots to hide it from. a blink and she's further back in time—inside, standing behind angela meyers as she calls benji trouble and all but the youngest asante hums their agreement. another blink and kiri realizes she doesn't know where eliza is, the vacant spot where her mother / friend / companion should be feeling like a gaping hole in her armor. a vulnerability. one she can't help but notice he seems to share. another way they seem to match tonight.

suddenly, safety in numbers doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

slipping into the gap after him, kiri leans their back against the exterior wall of the castro home, the gritty stone cool against their shoulders and the back of their head, which they tilt back to eye him intently. before he can say whatever he's dragged them over to say, they blurt out, ❝ what was that at dinner ? ❞

through all her standing around and waiting, trying her best to tune out the whispering partygoers poor attempts at hiding their judgmental stares, kiri can't help but think how nice it must be to be justice right now. last she heard, they'd been spared from getting an invite. spared from having to wear uncomfortable clothes and idle around for hours, pretending to play nice with people who couldn't care less about them in the name of a girl they didn't even like. ...okay, so maybe she's projecting a bit, but it's not like justice has ever given kiri a reason to doubt that they share the same sentiments. given that, it's some comfort for her to imagine justice elsewhere, at home, far from the rest of this nightmare and able to do all the things kiri wishes she could at the moment. imagine her surprise ( and utter disappointment ) then when a tiny head of blonde sidles up beside her.

as much as she loves her other friends, if it were up to liza, her and kiri would have been getting ready alone. it was hard to keep up with tristan and clementine's chatter when she felt like she was crumbling from the inside out. it was hard to act normal when this was all anything but. she's thankful that tris had invited william along, he was a good enough buffer for her to pull kiri into their room, toting along the clothing options she'd brought with her.

"okay, so i brought a few dresses, skirts, and tops. mostly stuff i wear when i do weddings, so they're in pretty good shape. i thought they were pretty close to your style," she babbles on as she sets the clothes down on kiri's bed, hands shaking around the hangers, "but if you don't like any of them, i can definitely peek in your closet if that's okay. or if you changed your mind and you want to pick something yourself, that's fine, too. i mean- you have great taste and all so i'm sure you'll look good."

unfortunately, as far as kiri can tell, it seems to have had the exact opposite effect.

❝ eliza. ❞ they interject before another rambling sentence can be scrounged up, their tone the equivalent of a firm hand on either one of their friend's shoulders, pushing her back down to earth. ❝ they're perfect. seriously. now take a breath before you knock yourself out. ❞

benji takes slow steps into the apartment he had become so familiar with. even in the months since he last stepped foot in it, not much had changed. he tried to ignore how comforting he found that. it wasn't really his place to feel that anymore. he turns his back to kiri, allowing her to read the note as he closes the door behind him. he had memorized it. committing ever scratch of the pen to memory. he could probably recite it.

the writing didn't feel entirely like the amelia he knew. it felt like the wind had been taken out of his sails. maybe it was over confidence that he thought he could possibly know her. it seems now, like maybe, nobody really knew amelia. she was planning on running away, if the note was anything to go by. so many people didn't think it in her character, maybe he was in that camp at one point, but clearly she had a whole other side to herself. sure, he knew she was vindictive, could hold a grudge, and harsh with her words. but all this vitriol? for the whole lane family? it made benji feel sick. sick for any part he played in it.

its the sound of tearing paper that draws him back into the moment. the entire time he had been slowly making his way into the living room, his feet moving on auto pilot, but now he moves softly to stand in front of her. his hands carefully cup hers, the tips of his fingers barely grazing her wrist, just enough to try and catch her attention, "kiri," he speaks softly, carefully, "we should burn it," his eyes stare at the torn page as if his gaze could be enough to set it ablaze, "i'll make sure it won't come back to cause you any trouble,"

crouching down, her intention is to scoop up the fallen pieces of paper and take them all to kitchen to burn over the gas stove, but she stops short of step one, lower lip caught between her teeth as the situation starts to catch up with her. she finds herself merely staring at the scraps instead. ❝ this was supposed to be her fresh start. ❞ the words aren't really meant for him. it's more she's saying them just to say them. to really feel them, as a crushing weight of something akin to failure settles over her with the realization that thirteen years of effort hadn't been enough. even without benji's betrayal, kiri was never going to be able to save her mom. even in the place that was meant to be different for them, mother and daughter both trying as hard as they could to prevent it, it seemed maia's mistakes were something inevitable, her fallouts inescapable, and now kiri had taken the fall too. sins of the mother and all that, as amelia so eloquently put it. it's a reality that threatens to send kiri through the floor, the heels of her fists now digging into her eyes to keep her emotions from spilling out faster than she can swallow them. thankfully all that manages to slip for now is a strained but quiet ❝ god. ❞

he almost expects her not to open the door. he wouldn't blame her. how could he? he had done the one thing he had all but promised not to do. he knew how hard it was for her to trust people, and yet, he wrecked it. he let his insecurities drive him. the deep shame he felt followed him around everywhere. but standing at her doorframe as it swung open revealing her, made him feel like bags of sand had been dropped on his shoulders.

if his heart wasn't pounding against his ribcage before, it was threatening to burst now. as usual, his mouth became dry upon seeing her. he doesn't know what to say, and even if he did, he probably couldn't get it out without the shake in his voice derailing everything. so instead, he carefully places the book in her open palm. one of his most prized possessions, one of the few items he truly, deeply cared for. something he thought of as integral to his being, he trusted it in her hands like he did no other. even now, when he wouldn't blame her if she stuck a knife between his ribs.

he didn't take his eyes off her shaking hand. he knew his wouldn't be much better. he longed for a time when he could just slip his fingers between hers. something solid for the both of them. but instead, "it's near the back end. when frodo and sam are climbing up mount doom," he focuses on the task at hand. and he's shocked his voice doesn't break

in an effort to break his line of sight, or at least give him something else to focus on, she turns back into the comfort of her own home, the door left open behind her should he choose to follow. as she makes the short trek to the living room, she expertly opens the book to the indicated chapter where the torn page waits for her. the first thing that catches her attention are the angrily scratched out words at the top of it, and her brow creases at this initial indicator that maybe benji isn't fucking with her. this concern only grows as she reads on, her last name penned in thick, furious underline in the middle of the page with ominous paragraphs surrounding it that, quite frankly, feel more like they were written by a serial killer than anyone as uninteresting as amelia castro. were it not for the 'xoxo amelia' signing the bottom of the page, kiri might honestly believe that to be the case.

long after she finishes reading, kiri continues to stare at the page, its sentences mulled over ad nauseam as she plays back events from the beach party with newfound context. it doesn't help to make any of it make any more sense, or to make any of it feel any better. if anything she just feels ill, her hands shaking far worse than they had been as what little color that remained after the last few weeks drains from her face. she is at once enraged and frightened. by the contents of course—the vitriol against her mother and the threats against the two of them—but also the implications. in confirming her intent to leave wrensted after her birthday, foul play becomes a bigger possibility in amelia's disappearance. with that, the rest of the entry only serves to incriminate kiri and her mother. at least, this is what kiri tells herself as she sets the book down on the arm of the couch, lifts the torn diary page between her fingers, and starts to rip it apart.

the torn page of what could only be an entry from amelia's journal had found a home in the copy of the return of the king. tucked folded between the pages of his favorite book that he kept forever in his glove box. part of him was too worried about it to let it leave his proximity. it felt like a curse. of course it had to be him that got this. to be the one to, again, hold too much information about the lane family when he was nowhere near deserving of it. he examined himself in the rearview mirror, unable to beat the self-consciousness eating at his chest. at least he looked better than the last time they saw one another. his hair was still wet from the shower, and he at least napped while staying with romy. and he ate there. so the bags under his eyes were back to their typical depth. he sat for a moment longer, brushing back the damp curls away from his face. it took everything in him to ignore the final cigarette sitting in the box of lucky strikes. he trotted up the stairs, just as he had a million times before, but never had he felt like a ghost as he did now. he hesitated in front of the door, with the novel gripped in his hand, whitening his knuckles. his body has to move on its own, as it feels like benji watches, as his free hand carefully taps against the door. at one point, he might have just walked in, she even told him he could, but that just wouldn't feel right.

instead, he's on her front porch, the raps of his knuckles against the door startling her from the mobile game she's using as a distraction. she hates him for knocking a little bit, half considering if she shouldn't just feign ignorance and act like she never heard it. if he's going to leave the choice to her, maybe it's better to pull the rug at the last minute and keep him out. save them both the heartache of how awkward this was going to be, especially given the setting. but she needs to know whatever it is he knows. god forbid she allow him of all people to have something on her family that even she's not privy to. so kiri sighs, steels herself for whatever these next few moments will be, and stands.

upon opening the door, she doesn't greet him immediately. rather, her eyes follow the line of tension in his body to the book in his hand. she softens for a moment at the sight of it— its creased binding and frayed edges looking like an old friend despite its associated company. she's quick to blink the feeling away, focus back and remember what he's here for. propping her hip against the doorframe, she extends an expectant hand. ❝ alright, let's see it, ❞ she prompts, hand shaking ever so slightly despite the seemingly indifferent expression she gives him.

if it were up to benji, he would forget the bag in between them. he would simply drop it and pull her into him. wrap his arms around her, brush back her hair, try to fix everything. he would pull her into his open chest. crack open his ribs and build her a home made of bones next to his beating heart. keep her safe from the hellhole that was wrensted. the vulture town's people, who gossiped like high school never ended. who tucked everyone into little boxes, that nobody could fit in. that would look at their parents with disgust, and never give either of them a chance. he could take any punch they would throw, and shield her from it all. but he couldn't do that. he wasn't allowed to do that anymore. he shouldn't even really think it anymore. he just couldn't help himself. in truth, though, he was really no better than the vultures. he wasn't enough to protect her. not when it's his fault everything is like this between them.

she pulled away, and crossed her arms. visually telling him what they were again. that he was cut off. that he was cut off from her life. it hurt. he deserved it. she knew every detail about him. she was the only person he had ever let into his life, but he ruined it. his rot spilled over and corroded the only good thing he had allowed himself to have. he could no longer bury his head in her shoulder, or feel her fingers run through his scalp. that comfort was long gone to him. he's not allowed to push back against her brushing off his concern, even if he knows its a lie.

her words fly like arrows into him. if he had any energy, the piercing might sting. but there's no point in hurting if she's right. he knows she's right. he looks like crap. he shouldn't, but he smiles as she clocks him, "yeah, i know i do," but his eyes dart all around her, taking her all in, like he's unable to stop himself.

"i like your haircut," it slips out of him before he can second guess himself. her quick retort seemed to slice him enough to weaken his filter. even in her exhaustion, he couldn't help but think it. her hair was wild and unkempt, and the bags below her eyes were dark enough to compete with him, but all he could think about was how beautiful she seemed. he swallows down his longing, tearing his eyes away from her, looking past her at the only usable washers. he should move. get out of her hair. but his feet feel like they're covered in cement, and he can't bare to be the one to walk away first.

once upon a time, she might have beamed at such a comment. might have ducked her head to keep him from seeing the involuntarily upward pull of her lips as her own body betrayed her and revealed the helpless flutter in her chest. how many times had she sat next to him in his car, another shitty party ditched in favor of lukewarm french fries and quiet conversation, and he’d looked at her like that ? spoke to her like that ? you look nice he’d say, unblinking, unflinching, as stubborn and resolute as he is now. and she would snort, tell him to keep his eyes on the road despite the ignition having long been turned off with the engine growing cold. then she’d look down. she’d always look down. to hide, yes, but also because he wouldn’t listen. he’d keep looking, and kiri always found it hard to think benji dishonest when she had to look him in the eye.

she turns around, veiling the fight or flight instinct behind a need to ready one of the working washers. she has no qualms being the one to walk away. it’s how she prefers it. in turning her back to him, she’s free to think what she wants. she can think him a cruel liar, attempting to use feelings he knows she once had to get her back in his pocket. she can imagine a snide air about him as he mocks her once more, just as he must have all those times sitting in his car. she wants to tell him that it's not necessary— that she already feels stupid enough for ever trusting him without the weaponization of prior feelings and old memories. it makes her wonder what else he may have told romy, because surely he told his best friend everything. was it anything like her own mental flagellations ? like mother, like daughter ? give a lane a shred of genuine-seeming attention and she’ll fold for you like paper ? eat from the palm of your hand ? tell you anything you want ? it doesn’t sound at all like the benji she knew, but with her back turned to him kiri can convince herself she never really knew him at all. the rest is easy after that.

in liu of a thank you she doesn't mean, kiri offers an explanation. ❝ clementine did it. last night. ❞ a dark expression momentarily flickers over her face at the reminder of the last twenty-four hours, though it’s obscured as she ducks her head into the washer to “check” the filter. ❝ maybe you should ask her for one, ❞ she calls back, drowning out the voice in her head arguing his hair is actually the perfect length with fantasies of clem "accidentally" nicking him with her careless scissor handling.

she can't be sure if her text was the real reason kiri showed up to the search or not, but the thought is a warm blanket on an otherwise cold day, so she decides to hold it close without knowing how much truth is to it. there were worse things to be delusional about.

"i could never think of you as just the pie guy," she says, starting in the direction of kiri's place, "you're obviously the art guy."

tristan sat with her legs dangling off the kitchen counter, fuzzy socks in an attempt to counter the chill of the ice cream tub resting on the bare skin her pyjama shorts wouldn’t cover. “get this. vodka cranberry all over the dj set.” spoon in her hand wildly moved to emphasise her words as she relayed the locations kiri had missed. “everything fuckin dies. obviously. they try to pass it off as a moment of silence for amelia. in front of her girlfriend and the rest of her friends, mind you, tilly’s all so who’s to thank for that.” voice higher to imitate the socialite. “as if they want to hear the fuckin’ club is doing moments of silence.”