from black to grey.

@adriaali - you got mail!

The small cake box arrives on Adria’s doorstep the morning of her birthday. Although there is a card slipped under the brown string tied around it, Henry has not signed his name inside, because he abruptly stopped attending his therapy sessions several months ago and is simply too embarrassed to face her. The inside reads:

Dear Adria,

Have a wonderful birthday.

@amethvsts koa - you got mail!

Henry leaves a white cake box with Koa’s aunt the evening before his birthday, trusting that it’ll probably be safer in her hands than those of its intended recipient. A card is tucked under the green ribbon tied carefully around it.

I still have time for you. Elaine is simultaneously grateful and guilty; she’s glad they’re finally nearing a point of reconciliation, yet she still struggles to believe she deserves it. She shoots a small smile back, still curling into herself like she always does, like she’s trying not to take up too much space in the room. She glances over the treats splayed all over the kitchen; there was a touch of Henry in all of them, and a touch of the Valley. Her smile widens. “That’s really good to hear.” Her tone is genuine, smile persisting as she glances at him, “On the off-chance that there’s anything left by the end, I’d love to buy some.”

She clasps her hands behind her back, shrugging bashfully. “You’re welcome.” She responds, and adds, “I have a habit of cooking too much for myself.” It doesn’t take much to figure out gift-giving is Elaine’s love language, so maybe overcooking isn’t completely subconscious on her part. She wants him to eat well. And despite all the treats, the sweet smell wafting in the air, and his smiles, she has to ask– because she knows how good people can be at pretending they’re fine, because she wants him to know she cares, “How are you doing?”

With the kettle boiled, Henry sets about pouring their tea, going through the motions that are as natural as breathing. The mug he instinctively sets out for Elaine has a delicate bluebird painted on the front, and has sat, unused, at the back of his cupboard for almost a year. He supposes he’s come to think of it as being hers - it seemed wrong to let anybody else drink out of it. “I’m not going to let you pay, you goose,” he says with a laugh, handing over her tea. “In fact, I insist you take some things home with you today - I made far too much anyway, I’ll never sell it all. I’ll get you a box before you leave.”

Henry nods in understanding at what Elaine says - he’s often guilty of the same, not least because it’s hard to cook for just one person without any waste, but because there’s so often another person in the Valley that would benefit from a meal made by a friend. It’s just his turn to be on the receiving end this time, that’s all.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the fairly innocuous question regarding his wellbeing makes Henry’s smile flicker. In truth, he’s still embarrassed by his behaviour during those black months, that she ever had to see him like that, even if a chance at rekindling their friendship came from it. “Yes, fine, just keeping busy, you know?” he says quickly, dismissively, desperate not to talk about it. He’s always been terrible at talking about it... “But, uh, how are you? How’s Sofia, have you seen her lately?”

Sasha knocked timidly on the door. Maybe too timidly. She could hear a flurry of activity in the cottage; the radio crooned tinny in the background. She leaned over to peak in the window, a hand resting on the handle to keep her bal– oops. She poked her head in with a sheepish smile.

“Hi, sorry, I was leaning on the handle. Um, my dad asked me to drop some things off for you? He said you would know what they were?”

“That’s okay, I at least had the presence of mind not to put any cupcakes directly in front of the door,” he says with a laugh, wiping his hands on his apron as he emerges from the kitchen to meet her.

Picking his way through the cluttered living room, Henry takes the box from Sasha with a grateful sigh. “Thank you. I haven’t been able to order any cake boxes at all, so I really owe you guys one. As you can see, the situation has gotten a little... uh, out of control.” He regards the chaotic space around them with a bemused expression, sure she’ll understanding his meaning.

Elaine gets hit with a strong sense of deja vu when Henry peeks his head in from the kitchen. Suddenly it’s early summer of last year, and this is just a routine visit, and nothing bad ever happened, and they’re still good friends. And even though she’s brought back to the present the moment he disappears into the kitchen once again, everything that’s happened since then suddenly surging back– it’s still early summer, and there’s some sense of hope that lingers in the air (along with, well, the general baking smell). For the first time in a while, Elaine’s heart doesn’t feel as heavy in this house.

“Oh, um, yes, I’d love some– but you don’t have to if you…” Elaine treads her way into the kitchen, lingering by the doorway and quietly observing the source of the chaos that has unfolded throughout the entire home. “– You seem busy.” The way she says it, it sounds like a good thing; it is. ”I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” She glances up at him then, a hint of an amused smile on her lips when she spots the bits of powder coating his hair. She pauses to reach into her bag, pulling out a small container and placing it on what little empty space there is on the kitchen counter, “I just had some leftovers from last night, so I, uh, I thought I’d bring you some… though it, um, it looks like you have dessert covered, at least.”

“I am a bit, but I still have time for you,” he tells Elaine, directing a soft smile over his shoulder as he rummages through one of his cupboards, finally laying his hands on the missing kettle. It seems Archie has tidied it away in the void of time between February and now, and he supposes he can’t really blame her. It’s not like he’s been using it.

“I signed up for the farmer’s market a couple of towns over,” Henry explains as he fills the kettle with water and sets it on the hob, “It’s spread out over a couple of days, but I might have, uh, overprepared a little.” As he says this, he looks pointedly at the closest selection of treats, which include paw-shaped brioche buns, and matcha cookies that look like little frogs. God, he hopes they’ll sell. It’s terrifying getting back out there.

While they wait for the kettle to boil, Henry takes the opportunity to peek under the lid of the tupperware Elaine has set on the counter, the home-cooked meal inside inspiring another smile. The gesture makes his chest ache - it’s no secret that food is the way to his heart. “This looks wonderful, thank you,” he says. It’s good to have her back.

Dakota bounced back and forth on their toes as they stood in front of Henry’s door. In the months since moving to town, they had yet to stumble across the man to thank him for the gift. And after weeks of talking themself up, they finally decided to visit his home and take him up on the offer for a game night. When Dakota knocked on the door, it opened. He curiously peered in and saw a flurry of movement. Cautiously he entered, until the warning was given to step carefully.

“O-Oh, there’s a lot going on in here, it smells really sweet in here…” the wave of aromas was almost too overwhelming for them. But, no, Dakota wanted to make new friends. So they switched to subtly breathing through their mouth, as they adjusted the straps of their backpack (which contained a board game and snacks - which they doubted would be needed with all the food stacked on the counter). “I, uh, came by to take you up on the offer for a game night and, uh thank you for the, you know, the gift…” he seemed busy. Maybe Dakota should leave?

“Oh, Dakota, hello!” For a moment Henry looks puzzled to see them, his thoughts turning to his phone, which is upstairs charging, and wondering if he missed a message. Usually he keeps a diary with a record of all his plans, but of course that’s all gone to pot these last few months, and it’s entirely possible that he’d simply... forgotten to expect his neighbour.

But then he remembers the promise he had made alongside Dakota’s gift at Winter Star, and his expression morphs into one of understanding. “Sorry about that, I hardly even notice it anymore,” he says apologetically. “Why don’t you come through to the kitchen? I know it probably seems counterproductive to walk towards the source of the smell, but I’ve got the back door open to let some fresh air through. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

They finally talked, and she sent the birthday gift, and those all feel like important steps– positive steps– in repairing what they had, but Elaine is still hesitant as she approaches Henry’s home to check up on him again. Granted, half of that hesitance is her mentally preparing herself to bump into Archie.

Instead, she jumps slightly in surprise at the warning as she barely creaks the front door open, and surprise hits her even more as she takes in the rather LIVELY surroundings. She steps in, carefully avoiding stepping on the baked goods scattered throughout the house. She tightens her hold on the canvas bag slung over her shoulder with some leftovers she had planned on offering. “Um… is this a bad time?” She calls out, shock and faint amusement curling into her voice.

It’s actually Archie that Henry had been expecting - she’d gone out several hours ago, long before the living room had been completely taken over with his baking enterprises, and he doubts she’ll be particularly impressed to come home to such chaos. She’s been good to him these past few months, better than he thinks he really deserves, but her patience has well-observed limits.

Elaine’s appearance he hadn’t thought to anticipate, but now she’s here, he finds he’s actually... pleased to see her? Nervous to see her? Henry’s feelings regarding his old friend are still so complicated, but that ugly knot of resentment and hurt that used to flare at the sound of her voice is... well, not gone, not yet, but healing. The smile he shoots her as he leans briefly into view through the open door of his kitchen is shy, but encouraging. “No, no, not at all! Come in!”

“Do you want a cup of tea? The kettle’s... somewhere...” He trails off, raking a hand through his hair as he ponders the appliance’s whereabouts and leaving his dark locks streaked with powdery white.

For the first time in months, Henry is baking. In fact, he’s been baking, and now almost every available surface in both his kitchen and living room, as well as several stairs, are littered with baked goods in various stages of being iced. It’s like a switch has suddenly been flipped, and all that time he spent as a zombie has been brushed aside in favour of his usual flurry of activity. It’s time to try again.

“Oh, nothing,” Art heaved a heavy sigh that made it clear something was most definitely wrong. He wasn’t so consumed by his own woes, though, that he didn’t notice Henry’s low spirits, and he recalled the gossip elder information Lizzie had passed to him before leaving. “You doing okay?”

Arthur managed to schlump into town to pick up seeds from Pierre’s, but his heart wasn’t in it. He left the shop with heavy pockets and a heavy heart. His partner and crime was supposed to be here and shopping with him. He didn’t even feel like taking care of the farm anymore. As he dragged himself back to the farm, he ran into the only person in town who seemed more miserable than him. “Hi,” he offered glumly.

Before Archie had even okayed it, Ben had begun the trip down the mountain with the full intention of making his way to his friend’s cottage for a long-overdue visit. Truthfully, the moment he found out the movie theater had won, instead of Henry and Sofia’s proposal, he had wanted to say something. Anything to bring his friend comfort. Then he had realized that maybe Henry needed a moment to process everything on his own. Isn’t that why he had left so abruptly after his shift? To avoid having to talk about the defeat he must be feeling. A day or two was all Ben had intended on leaving before bringing up the subject. Which had turned into a few more days once he took in the fact that him saying anything might just serve as a reminder that Henry was stuck working at the clinic with him for longer than he had been hoping for. Then everything with the mines happened and suddenly two weeks had passed by.

The moment Henry’s cottage came into view, he found his steps faltering from the brisk pace he had kept the whole entire walk until he came to a full stop a few feet from the door. A familiar feeling of hesitation filled him as he looked at the door, one that often fell upon him on matters revolving around Henry. Was he doing too much? Was he overstepping because of his own personal feelings? No, this wasn’t crossing the line. This is what he’d do for any of his friends, especially one that he is so close to. So why was he still rooted in his spot? He fished his phone out to finally check the last message from Archie, an excuse to delay approaching the door for just another few seconds, finally responding to her.

[07/02/2021, 9:58pm] Ben → Archie Taylor

Don’t worry, I won’t mention a thing to Henry about it. 

Ben took a deep breath as he put his phone away, once again looking at the door. He approached it, finally unlocking and opening the door. His eyes did a sweep of the place from the doorway. It was unsettling how quiet it was. There was no hesitation as he approached his friend’s bedroom, gently knocking on the door. “Henry?”

One of the strange side effects of depression is how attuned you become to even the tiniest of sounds when they’re made by another person. Each foot on the stairs, each voice in the hall, it all causes the hair on the back of Henry’s neck to stand up, his stomach twisting itself into knots. That sickening dread that someone has come to check up on him, that he’s going to have to come up with another excuse for his recent behaviour, is something that’s very hard to shake, so when he hears Archie head out for the evening, he can’t help but be quietly relieved.

malia was tired. she hadn’t been having a good couple of weeks, being stretched thin between three jobs, because it’s easier to forget about all of your problems when you’re constantly working. she had decided to go for a walk, away from her booth having changed shifts with someone. she needed some air or alcohol. she didn’t know which one she needed more right now. walking around the festival she felt this sense of loneliness, nothing was really sticking out to her, her insides felt dull. she was thinking of walking back to the booth until she saw a familiar face. it was henry. she feels that anxiety bubbling up in her throat and stomach that she had been feeling when it came to henry. she didn’t know how to help, especially when she was drowning too. she had walked over to him, sitting down across from him and attempted to smile. “hi.” she says, “long time no see.”

Henry tenses up when he senses someone approaching in his periphery, and he only relaxes minutely when he realises that it’s Malia. She looks worn out, which causes his brows to knit together in concern, but he knows he’s not really in a position to talk since he looks decidedly dishevelled himself.

When she mentions how long it’s been since they last saw each other, his stomach tightens into a guilty knot, and he looks down at his hands. “I know. I’m sorry, I’ve been... under the weather.” Not entirely a lie, but also not much of an excuse for how bad a friend he’s been just lately. He knows his wallowing is selfish, but he's so deep in it now... it's hard to find the energy to come up for air. “How have you been?” Henry asks after a moment, because he really wants to know. 

gabe smiles, “perfect!” he’s just happy that there would be more help around the shop, it had gotten lonely just being him most of the time and from what he knew of archie he liked her enough and was excited to make another friend out here. “can you come in tomorrow? that way we can go over the basics and i think you’ll be ready to go.”

Archie arrives at Flores Flowers at nine o’clock sharp the following morning, swinging open the heavy door and waiting for Gabe to materialise. With nothing better to do in the interim, she looks around at all the assembled blossoms, trying to see how many she can identify through pure osmosis. It’s fewer than she’d like, but it probably doesn’t matter that much, right? She’ll mostly be doing deliveries and organising and whatever...