SilentMusiic

You feel like you were fucking born for this.

The crowd's energy is magnetic, all-encompassing, and powerful. They scream your lyrics back to you — so much so that you can barely hear yourself over them, despite the audio track playing in your in-ear — and they're clamoring for a scrap of your attention, so they can have a five-second video of you smiling or winking at them to upload to TikTok.

You oblige them, of fucking course — you're a performer. It's in your blood to be an attention whore who enjoys seeing their own face coming across their screen every time they open up a social media app. No offense to your contemporaries who enjoy a bit of peace and quiet after they play to a sold-out stadium, but that's not really your vibe. You adore your fans, and you're almost as feral as they are. Your comments on their TikTok edits of you crawling on the stage floor are enough evidence of that.

'Oh you got the GOOD angle of my ass'

'Can't believe y'all didn't add the clip of me winking at that cute girl in the front row :[ rude'

'I can show y'all what this tongue does but that'd get me banned on this app KLJAFLKSFJD'

That last comment nearly gave Monique — your poor manager who's been tolerating your behavior for far longer than she should — a heart attack when she read it, but she lived… after she chewed your ass out for nearly two hours straight.

"You have a certain image that you have to maintain when you're not on stage–"

You scoffed at her words.

"–I'm a rock star. Debauchery and depravity are my things!"

"Yes, I get that." Monique pinched the bridge of her nose as her fingers tightly gripped the silver clipboard that was in her hands. "But it only works in moderation."

"Why do you care so much, Monique?"

"I enjoy being employed, and," She heavily sighed, "despite how much of a headache you are, I like working with you."

"Aww, Monique–"

"–shut up and delete that comment." She sternly said before you gave her a two-finger salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that." She deadpanned as you chuckled.

"Yes, baby–"

"–also refrain from calling me 'baby', or 'babe', or 'honey muffin–'"

"–You're no fun!"

She loves you. Deep down, under her neutral expressions and exaggerated huffs, your manager is somewhat fond of you. Even though she thinks you're a fucking idiot most of the time.

You can practically feel Monique's eyes on the back of your head as you sing into the mic, shooting deadly laser beams into your skull from backstage as you pull your black, ripped-at-the-sleeves leather jacket from your form. It wasn't really doing much to cover what Monique is worrying her head over, since no one can tell which of the song lyrics on your arms belongs to your soulmates.

Yes, soulmates. Two of 'em, one on each arm. Aren't you just a lucky duck?

On your sixteenth birthday, your soulmate's first words to you will appear on your forearm in cursive black ink, and then they stay on your arm, like a tattoo or a permanent branding that you can't ever get rid off, and blah, blah, blah.

Who gives a shit? When you were sixteen, you had much pressing matters to attend to then some soulmate bullshit that would happen when it happened. People made this a bigger thing than it needed to be, in your 'humble' teenage opinion. Still, you entertained your parents and rolled up your sleeves when the hour and minute of the sixteenth anniversary of your birth arrived.

You could still see your mother's horror and your's dad amusement when two lines of ink — one on each arm — were slowly etched into your skin. You cackled like a witch, because of course this would happen to you. You, the person who did not give a rat's ass about this soulmate business, had two soulmates. Go figure.

Unfortunately, this would also create a unique problem for you because of your occupation.

When you were fifteen, a cover of you singing a Fall Out Boy song went viral on the internet, despite your horrible winged eyeliner and bad mic quality. People were hungry for more of your voice, and, after you posted a few more covers to YouTube that got millions of views, you attracted the interest of a few record labels. They were all ran by money-hungry older men that were eager to exploit you in the worst of ways to make a quick buck, minus one — the one that your parents let you sign on to because they liked the owners, Rainey and Keyes, so much.

You grew to love the pair as much as your family did, despite any creative differences that you clashed over. They had your best interests in mind, and made sure that you were totally comfortable with any album concepts or lyrics that were presented to you. Keyes had her masterful fingers dipped into the melodies behind the lyrics that you wrote, making sure that everything meshed together in an ear-catching way. Meanwhile, you and Rainey would discuss your image for hours, so that every photo shoot and music video was a piece of art that you loved, even when the album era was deep in your past.

You don't know what drew two famous jazz performers to your detached rock star persona, but you are so fucking thankful that your parents were wise enough to pick them and your well-being over money — a choice that a lot of people would not make, if their kids were in the same scenario as you were.

When you first told Rainey and Keyes of the words on both of your arms, they reassured you that it wasn't a big deal, but they got it through your head that you'd have to take certain precautions to protect yourself since you'd be in the public eye. If you were a normal, everyday person, you could just leave those words uncovered on your arm. Sure, you might want to cover one set of words so you didn't draw any leering eyes or unwanted comments about having two soulmates to yourself, but you could pretty much live your life as anyone else did.

Since you'd be a public persona, however, acting like a normal person wasn't an option. Skin patches and long-sleeves would be your best friends, since stalkers and frenzied fans would lose their shit if they saw the words on your arms. They'd scream those words at you, trying to see if you were the one who matched the words that they had on their arms. You remembered seeing, when you were too young to understand what the news reporters were telling you through the screen, that a young female pop star was murdered by a male 'fan' who was so upset that he wasn't the one who was destined to be with her.

Famous actors, pop stars, Broadway actors, news reporters, and legions of influencers around the world took preventative measures to make sure that they didn't meet a similar fate. Since you were freshly sixteen, Keyes and Rainey both pushed for you to wear longer, loose-fitting clothing for a number of reason, but the most pressing was to hide the words that were scrawled onto your arms.

You agreed, of course, and everything went smoothly for the rollout of your debut album, which caused you to gain a small cult following that liked how different your sound was to the bubblegum pop that was trending at the time. You wore long graphic t-shirts with a stripped undershirt, earning you the nickname of Emo Royalty from your fans who adored how your harsh styling contradicted the polite, graceful mannerisms that you displayed as a sixteen-year-old who was fucking terrified of the media circuit and the larger-than-life celebrity personalities that you interacted with on a daily basis.

Eventually, as you began to prepare your sophomore album after a small tour for your debut album in your home country, you got a dangerous idea as you stared at your uncovered arms. What if you embraced the words that caused so many people so much panic and distress? You wouldn't just reveal the sentences that were written there, however — that'd be dumb and irresponsible.

So you had a much different — much better — idea that you pitched to Keyes and Rainey when you happened to see that one of your old high school friends opened up a tattoo shop in your hometown.

"What if I tattooed a bunch of my lyrics on my arms in the same font as the words from my soulmates? That way, no one could tell which ones were real, and which ones were fake? I already put my soulmates' words onto my debut album, so it can't hurt, right?"

You expected to get shot down; however, they both happily approved your idea once they were sure that you wanted to do this. Monique about had a cow, since she was freshly graduated from college and was assigned to you right after being hired in by Keyes, after she heard what you were planning.

"That's going to be a PR nightmare."

"That's why I have you, isn't it?"

"…You're going to be the reason I have a stroke before the age of thirty."

After Monique finally accepted your plan and the eventual consequences it'd bring with it, you brought a list of your favorite song lyrics to Dirk, who was all too happy to accept a nice lump sum of money in exchange for his John Hancock on an NDA and a few different tattoos on each of your arms. It was good to catch up with an old friend for a few hours, to hear how he dated, broke up with, then dated again, then married and divorced the girl that he was on and off with in high school, Harper, before they started seeing each other a few weeks ago. You wished them the best, but you prayed that this would not be the situation with you and your future soulmates.

You didn't intend for this to be a publicity stunt — you were twenty goddamn years old, you'd like to wear a tank top outside of your apartment without the fear of being photographed with your soulmates' words out for the world to see — but that's the way the media took it when you began your rollout for your next album by posting photos of your freshly tattooed forearms to your official Instagram account. Everyone lost their fucking minds over what you had done, and it caused so much internet discourse that the first single off of your sophomore album sat at number one on the music charts for twelve weeks. Your name could not stay out of people's mouths, and the radio play that you earned because of it was insane.

Cool. You'd be a one-hit wonder who'd go on the late-night TV circuit for a week before you sold out medium-sized venues for the rest of career. You wouldn't be a superstar, but you'd be comfortable for the rest of your life. That was a sweet deal, in your book.

And then you found your personal style — the glitz and glamour of 80s rock was calling your name, so you practically forced Barry to paint over your eyelids with glittery, dramatic eyeshadow after he put far too much hair spray into your hair for every late-night performance — which made you go viral yet again. Apparently, you struck gold with the two different demographic of people: those who were both nostalgic for the style and sound of their youth, and those who were too young to experience the eighties, much like yourself, but wanted to see its revival in someone young and fresh, like you. Add in your spiky personality and inability to keep your mouth shut when it came to… anything, really, and you quickly became a radio darling.

It was weird to go from practically incognito, where barely anyone knew your name and you could go out in public as much as you'd like, to a superstar overnight. Suddenly, you couldn't be left alone, and you constantly had a microphone or camera being shoved into your face. You didn't exactly have a problem telling people to go fuck themselves if they got a little too close, or if they were harassing your loved ones, which made you even more adored by the people who appreciated your no-nonsense attitude.

Well, some thought that you were bitchy, but who really gives a shit about what some person with too much free time on their hands says about you on the internet?

Eventually, after the general public kept selling out your shows because they wanted more and more of you, you earned yourself a headlining spot in a large outdoor concert festival, and that was your first encounter with other headlining act that night — High Voltage, the up-and-coming indie rock band that had been stopped from their slow ascent to the top of the charts by your sudden success.

Truly, it wasn't your fault that the top three songs in the country were all yours — the people like what they like! It was hard not to be charmed by someone like you, a small-town kid who managed to capitalize on their five seconds of fame and make a real career out of a bit of virality. You didn't have the connections, if the rumors were true, of course, that a certain guitarist in the band did. You were authentic and raw in a way that spoke to the general public. Nothing more, nothing less.

The stage, your fans… you have a job to do. Stop zoning out.

You absorb the cheers from those in the audience at your little muscle show, but your eyes can't help but drift down your left arm, to the words that first appeared on your skin almost a decade and a half ago.

You were backstage, doing some quick circular arm exercises to help burn off your nerves. This was the biggest crowd you'd ever performed for by far — you went from considering an audience of three-thousand to be large, to then suddenly being thrust onto a stage where thirty thousand people paid to see you perform. Well, maybe not just you, since a nice collection of artists performed before you, but when the emcee said that you'd be performing next, after they cleared the stage, a good portion of that audience screamed your name.

You weren't a diva, despite how some people insisted that you were because of your 'attitude', so you moved aside as the roadies worked to deconstruct the stage and move the band's instruments off with haste.

Then, only after the instruments came off, did you get your first look at the gentlemen that composed the band that had been referred to as your rivals. You didn't perceive them as such, since you enjoyed the artistry that came with the creation of all music, and you were listening to their album on the down-low since there were some serious earworms that you couldn't get out of your head after you listened to the full album.

You saw the bubbly guitarist approach you first with a friendly wave, his black curls bouncing along with his steps as he approached you with two of his fingers on his extended hand curled into the famous rock-and-roll pose.

"Hey, I dig your music!" He suddenly hugged you, which gave you great pause until you decided to lightly tap his back a few times, in order to get his hands off of your person. "Name's Bodhi Windbreaker."

Your attitude immediately flipped upside-down when you realized who he was.

"Oh my gosh, I love your guitar riffs!" You didn't give fake praise — you were genuine in your compliments of his abilities. "They're so iconic!"

"Jesus, doll, don't give the guy a bigger ego than he already has," The next member of the band, who you recognized through the various news articles that you saw of him and his high-profile girlfriend, Tina, ruminating about their engagement status, "Tony, at your service."

He stuck his hand out to you, in a manner that reminded you of a man greeting his date's father for the very first time, and you gladly shook it, thankful that was all the touch he tried to initiate with you.

While Bodhi talked your ear off about your music and how much he enjoyed your two albums, you noticed that another man slipped by you, Tony, and Bodhi, but he didn't do more than grumble under his breath in light annoyance before he disappeared around a corner. Tony told you not to worry about him — "Eddie's a professional grump, doll. He doesn't like the spotlight very much. Don't worry about it! He'll warm up to you after a while." — but you did find yourself a little intrigued by how different he was to his bandmates. Especially in comparison to the last man who strolled up to you before he placed an arm around each of his fellow bandmates, only slightly tilting his head towards you in acknowledgement as he focused on his bandmates.

And, dear God, what a man he was. He wore a black V-neck shirt with cutoff sleeves that did justice to his well-defined biceps and forearms, alongside a pair of black, tight leather pants. His white hair fell elegantly down his shoulder, perfectly framing his handsome face, which was only amplified by the stage make-up that he adorned. Your beady little eyes went down to the lighting bolt necklace that hung above his chest, in the naked space that the V-neckline created, and how the four diamonds at each sharp corner shone even in the dim backstage lights.

His gaze then went to you before a playful, cat-like smile crept upon his features. He was enjoying the way you ogled him — of course he fucking did. You knew who this guy was, and, more importantly, you knew his reputation. A playboy, a fuckboy, a heartbreaker — all synonyms in your book. You couldn't let yourself get caught by his silver tongue, and yet, your foolish heart jumped in excitement when he finally addressed you as he glanced at his two companions.

"Ah, is this the firecracker that I've heard so much about?" He stepped forward to take your hand, bringing it to his lips as you stared at him in a mix of wonder and astonishment. "Volt, at your service, darling."

You thought that you might die on the spot. You had read those ten words he first said to you a thousand times over on your skin, and you even put them into one of your singles on your debut album. The frontman of High Voltage, a man who was barely on your radar except when you had to clarify that you and the band had no ill will, despite how you snubbed them on the charts, was one of your soulmates.

Holy-fucking-shit.

You didn't say anything. How could you? You had allowed yourself to forget about this pesky soulmate business since your musical career was thriving, and you had no reason to worry about who your soulmates were. You were on top of the world, baby! But, of course, your dynasty had to end sometime. Here comes a missile that will ruin your entire existence, not to mention your poor career. Just your fucking luck.

You let him place your hand back at your side — he might be a gentleman, despite what the tabloids say about him — and he gently pushed his bandmates away from you, ignoring their protests as he gave you the space to organize your thoughts before you spoke to him.

Even after you managed to get yourself in order, you weren't sure what to say to him, but he certainly didn't seem to mind filling in the empty space that you left.

"Starstruck, darling?" Volt warmly laughed. "It's alright, I understand that I'm quite the force to be–"

"–you're different than I thought you'd be." You quietly said, which caused his eyebrows to jump up in surprise.

"You are… you," He didn't hesitate to rip the skin patch off of his left forearm, which caused you to wince since you imagined that he took some arm hair off with the motion, "you and I were destined to meet, it seems."

You knew that you'd see the words you just spoke to him on his arm, but it still threw you for a fucking loop. This couldn't be real life. This couldn't be happening to you while you were five minutes from playing in front of the biggest crowd of your career.

"Find Monique and have her give you my number," You weren't stupid — you weren't about to let your career or your romantic life die in favor of the other since you'd choose both, if you could — so you directed his attention to the green-haired woman who was talking with the monitor engineer about your in-ear audio mixing, "We can talk about this later, Volt. I just… I have to do this performance first."

"Of course, dear," Volt reached out and squeezed your hand — a sign of good faith on his part, "Good luck out there. They're going to love you, if they're as easily enraptured by your beauty as I am."

You should've told Barry that you didn't need any blush, since you carried a heavy flush from his flirtation through your thirty-minute set.

The lyrics easily flow from your lips — you're performing on autopilot for the packed crowd in the stadium, fulling indulging your nostalgic mood as your eyes go to your right arm next.

You and Volt had been sneaking around for a few weeks. It was easy to pawn a narrative of friends off to the media and to Monique, who seemed glad that you were playing nice with someone else instead of refusing to meet them because they didn't support the same causes or positions that you did.

Little did she know that 'nice' meant having your naked legs wrapped around Volt's waist as he rutted into you, eager to get you both off before someone came into the empty closet that you two were hooking up in.

…Anyways, you were enjoying whatever had settled between you and Volt. It wasn't an official relationship yet, as the two of you had busy schedules due to your rising careers and couldn't meet except when you happened to be at the same festivals or private parties, but there was the foundation of something solid when you had the chance to just talk about your feelings.

"I think that we're destined to be something great," Volt grabbed your hand one night, suddenly drawing your attention to him as you buttoned your pants, "but there's someone else I need you to meet first."

"Who?" You cocked your head at him before he showed his right arm to you, and your eyes opened all of the way when you saw more written words on his right arm.

How did you never notice that before? Were you too deep in your lust to see–?

"I hid this from you, dearest. Don't beat yourself up about it." Volt seemed to read your mind, helping you fix your hair as you adjusted your outfit so it looks like you didn't just hook-up with some guy in an empty dressing room in the back of some venue.

"I'd love to meet this someone who loves you," You then pointed out your other soulmate's words on your arm, which caused Volt to carefully trace every letter with his pointer finger, "since I believe that they're meant to love me, too."

Little did you know that tonight would be that very night that you were introduced to your other soulmate — the mysterious, aloof drummer of High Voltage himself.

Most embarrassingly, you met him in a back alley of some club that Monique dragged you because there were some big-wigs that she wanted you to meet. You weren't really paying attention to what they were saying, or who they were, but they seemed interested in whatever you could offer them, and that made Monique happy, so you accepted their terms so you could move your night along and have a drink or two before you snuck outside to have a quick smoke break.

You did notice that Bodhi and Tony were in the club, but when you approached them, they were quick to tell you that Volt wasn't in attendance tonight. That disappointed you, since you did want to see him, but you were beginning to worry that his bandmates were picking up on what was going down between you and Volt. If they did know, they didn't say anything to your face about it as they wished you well before you disappeared into the cold night air.

You weren't the traditional smoker with a cigarette and a lighter — nope, you preferred to suck on a vape that filled your mouth with whatever flavor cartridge that you liked the most at the moment. Monique always chided you about this poor habit, but you didn't do it all of the time. You just smoked when you needed a little bit of stress relief from the constant spotlight that was hanging over your head.

You always tried to be careful with your vape, but only so a picture of you smoking didn't get back to your parents. You were past giving a shit about what some old white guy thought about you inhaling some cancerous, bubblegum flavored air in order to cope with the expectations that they liked to put on you, but you wanted your family to have a good image of you in your mind, even if you weren't the most perfect child at times.

Silence and your own company were your only expectations for the moment; however, only one of those would be met tonight as someone else saddled up to your side with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

You knew it was Eddie, yet you weren't exactly sure what to say to him. From your perspective, it seemed like he was avoiding you. Every time you met with the band he was a part of, all of his bandmates would come up to see you except him. He managed to escape the room or space you were in before you could get more than a glance at him, and on the rare occasion that he did linger, he'd just stare at you from the corner of the room, peering at your through judgemental silver eyes that cleaved through your anatomy with ease. You didn't know what he was looking for, but you're suddenly worried that he found it since he was now standing right next you.

What could he find out about you that he couldn't ask Volt, Bodhi, or Tony about? Did he want to observe you, like you were a fish swimming around an open tank, to see how'd you act in a controlled environment? What was his angle? What was he trying to do, smoking so close to you that you nearly choked on his fumes instead of the ones that you were trying to ingest from your own vape?

Eddie was still staring at you through those hauntingly beautiful eyes of his. This time, however, he seemed less analytic and judgemental. There was a twinge of intrigue in his eyes, like he didn't expect you to be vaping at midnight outside of some random-ass club.

You, however, couldn't keep your mouth shut for much longer. You wanted to get to know the man on many occasions, and he never gave you the time of day, but now here he was, staring at you like you were the only thing in the universe.

Yeah, you were going to give him some shit in exchange for his strange behavior towards you.

"Eddie, baby," Your voice was warm with an affection that you didn't expect to have for a stranger like him, "if you keep undressing me with your eyes, we're going to have to take this back inside so we can settle this matter like adults."

All he did was laugh before he took another puff of his cigarette, placing a hand in the pocket of the black leather jeans that he was sporting. He seemed to have the most muted style of the group, as his top was a simple dark grey button down that had only one button cracked at the top of his chest.

"What? I've seen the way you look at me." You shrugged before you inhaled more of those bubblegum-flavored fumes from the black, glittery vape in your hands. "Are you eye-fucking me, or do you actually hate my guts?"

"If I hated your guts, baby," You could tell that Eddie meant to say it mockingly, but there was a twinge of something… lighter in the way he said the pet name. Almost as if his lips and heart worked in unison to betray his mind, in order to reveal a bit of his true feelings towards you, "I wouldn't be out here with you."

Now you were the one cackling as you pulled up your right sleeve, pointing to that very phrase on your arm.

"Hiya, soulmate," You grinned at him before you pocketed your vape, "you must be the one Volt wanted me to meet."

"I am… you're just as charming as he'd said you'd be."

You actually couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, but you decided to not press the matter further.

"It's all natural. Comes with the territory of being an entertainer," You hummed lightly as your gaze went up to a streetlight that hung above the two of you, "You're rough around the edges."

"Comes with the territory." Eddie parroted your earlier sentiment, which brought a smug smile to your lips.

"Oh, I like you already." Tongue-in-cheek, you raised your eyebrows at him as he deeply sighed.

"You're worse than Volt." He paused. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Anything is possible if you put your mind to it," You slipped past Eddie, placing your hand on the door handle that would grant you access back into the club, "Are you a good dancer?"

"I have two left feet." He plainly said.

"Well, that's too damn bad," You opened the door before you gestured for him to go inside before you did, "trial by fire, Eddison. Let's see what you've got."

He wasn't as bad of a dancer as he claimed to be, nor was he as harsh as he first presented himself to you. Suddenly, you found yourself caught in a fun game of cat-and-mouse with the front man and the drummer of High Voltage, and you certainly didn't expect things to end up as they are now.

You thought you'd have to put any sort of grand romantic plans on the back burner until your lives slowed down a little bit; however, with a little bit of caution and a lot of hush money distributed by Monique to the Daily Mail, you were able to keep your relationship with Eddie and Volt on the down low.

It became harder to keep your relationship hidden when you were presented with two rings to wear as a sign of your lovers' affection for you, but the simple solution to that was to just wear designer rings on all of your fingers, so no one would know how special the rings on your left and right ring fingers — left for Volt and right for Eddie, of course — were.

As the years go on, you're starting to grow tired of sneaking around with your husbands like you're teenagers trying to not get caught by their parents. You'd like to kiss Volt on the cheek at a restaurant without getting investigated by some famous morning news anchor, you'd like to go out shopping with Eddie without fans breathing down your backs about why the two of you were together, and, fuck it, you'd just like to go out with your boys and be known as their spouse for once, rather than an on-again, off-again situationship that the media thinks that you have with them.

Well, not them. It's you and Volt that have the world by storm — much to Eddie's relief. You had Volt as your first ever feature on your third album, and the dating rumors sparked from there. You two liked to go out together, since you enjoyed each other's company, and people took the arms that you had around each other as a sign that you were together.

(You were, but that's besides the point.)

Neither of you confirmed or denied anything — you both stuck to your media training and claimed that you were close. Not close friends… just close. That, of course, sent your fans off to the races to speculate about your relationship status.

It, of course, didn't help when you wrote some lyrics for one of their newest albums — you were hanging out with Eddie in the studio one day and you got inspired, so you wrote a few stanzas as their producer was playing some audio recordings in the background. Funnily enough, you somehow ended up writing the hook for the biggest song of the summer that year — which got people all riled up about the two of you once more.

You and Volt took it on the chin, though — professional in public, but laughing your asses off in private. You can't count the amount of times that you, Eddie, and Volt have been curled up in bed together, chuckling at the ludicrous headlines that reporters wrote about the two of you.

"That angle of me is so unflattering!" You whine as you clicked the power button on the tablet.

"I don't think you have a bad angle, dearest," Volt sympathetically petted your hair, "You are gorgeous from any and all point of views."

"I don't think the angle is what you have to worry about, baby," Eddie murmured into your ear with a smile on his face, "they keep calling you a sly little fox who's trying to worm their way between you and his ex-girlfriend."

"He doesn't even have an ex-girlfriend! That was a publicity stunt put on by your label." You loudly complained as Eddie took three of his fingers and tilted your head towards his.

"If it helps, I think you're a pretty hot sly little fox–"

"–Fuck you," You grumbled, causing both of the men in bed with you to laugh, "but that does help. Thank you, Eddie… and thank you, Volt, for your nice words."

Wouldn't it be nice to be like your fans that are in the front row right now, holding onto their partner as they scream the lyrics to your encore song? God, how freeing would it be to just be with Eddie and Volt? Fuck the media, and fuck anyone who has any nasty shit to say about your relationship. They're your partners, and they make you happy. That's all that matters.

Your concert comes to an end while you're trying to decide to break the news to Monique — who will die on the spot when you tell this to her — that you want to go public with your relationship. It doesn't take you long to find her once you de-mic yourself and give your in-ear back to the audio technician backstage, but you're surprised to see a dour expression on her face as she angrily taps her foot against the floor.

…Can she read my thoughts? If so, I've been fucked for a long time.

"We have a situation." She hisses under her breath as she drags you from the wings of the stage into your dressing room, where Barry excitedly waves at you before he approaches you with a variety of skincare and make-up removing products. "We need privacy–"

"–Barry knows." You dryly state, which causes Monique to sharply glare at you. "He's had to cover up one too many hickeys."

"I promise nothing will leave this room. Heck, I probably won't even remember what you've said after I leave the room," Barry chuckles to himself as he plays with the ends of your hair, "let's get you all sorted out, dear."

"Thank you, Barry." You then turn your attention to Monique as she presents you with a large tablet. "What's the life-or-death situation that I know you already have a handle on?"

"How do you know that?" She shoot back as you take the device from her hands.

"Rainey and Keyes hired you for a reason. You're good at your job, Monique." You pay her a light compliment before you scroll upwards on the open page with your finger, immediately groaning in your chair when you spot the photos on your screen. "Jesus Christ, these are stalker photos. How the fuck did someone get that angle? Did they take these from their apartment window?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't look good." Monique watches your face turn sour as you skim through the photos of you and Eddie walking together, hand-in-hand after you tried out a local, family-owned restaurant yesterday since you and him were finally in the same city after being apart for a few months due to your differing touring schedules. Volt was off shooting a film a few states over, since the producers created a special role in the movie just for him, so he wasn't able to join the two of you. "I know all three of you are together, but the media's going to make this into a big cheating scandal and it is going to wreck your career."

"I fucking hate that you're right," You grab your phone from the vanity in front of you before you snap a picture of the most flattering image of you and Eddie, "whose is it, and what's their price?"

"Daily Mail, like always, and it's ten grand, like always," Her eyebrows then furrow in confusion when she sees your thumbs fly across the screen, "I'm sorry, are you sending those photos to someone? If they get out because of you, we're both out of a job–"

"–I'm sending it to Eddie and Volt, Monique, calm your jets." You hit the send button before you wait for a response from the group chat that you set up for the three of you once you all got seriously involved with each other. "They deserve to know about this too."

"I hate this for you." Monique looks away from you, tightly holding her tablet to her chest as she speaks. "I hate that you have to sneak around like this so you can still have a thriving career. I know you're unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy, I'm just… fucking tired of this." You speak your earnest thoughts to your manager as Barry works to remove your make-up once he gets your hair out of the way. "I'm over the age of thirty. I have multiple number one hits under my belt, I think I can take a hit like this and still be fine afterwards. I lived through Nipplegate, Monique–"

"–Nipplegate?" Barry inquires, which causes your manager to hiss at your stylist.

"Don't ask–"

"–see-through shirt plus massive downpour equals about fifty different fancams of my nipples for your viewing pleasure all over Tiktok," You lean back in your chair so you can look Barry in the eyes, "Actually, my nipples were trending on Twitter for a week–"

"–can we get back to the crisis at hand?" Monique cries out as she fishes out a ballpoint pen on her blouse that she taps against her head repeatedly. "I think that as long as we're careful about this, we can get the three of you into the public eye without much controversy. We'll need a joint statement from both record companies, some photo evidence of the three of you together, and a nice written statement from you, Eddie, and Volt explaining the nature of your relationship. That should be enough to get majority of the general public to your side. The conservative part of the internet will have a fit, but they're not buying your albums or selling out your shows, so I see no need to pander to them."

You pause to consider her words before a silly grin appears on your face.

"Have I ever told you how much I fucking love you, Monique?"

Your words make her flush a nice pink color as she slides her pen back into the pocket of her blouse.

"No, but I'd appreciate hearing it from you more often."

"What's the game plan?" You shoot another question Monique's way, and she answers it with nothing less than the excellency that you know her for.

"First, you have to talk to your husbands about this plan, which I assume that you're about to do. When you've got their approval, you can go to Keyes and Rainey while they go to whoever they need to talk to in their record label so we can get them working on that joint statement." Monique explains. "Then, we find some pictures for the three of you to post on your private accounts — your wedding pictures would be perfect for this — alongside that letter that I mentioned."

"You've had this planned out for a while," You smile when you see her begin to sweat a little, "haven't you?"

"I have grown to care for you, and it upsets me when you're upset." Monique starts with a warm sentiment before she snaps back to her analytical self. "You can't make the music that fans love, or be the artist that they want you to be, if you're worried about something that shouldn't even be an issue in the first place."

The room falls into silence after that, which allows you to glance down at your phone to see the messages that are waiting for you there.

V ⚡: Quite the flattering image of the two of you.

E 🥁: What the fuck. Those are stalker photos.

That's what I said!

V ⚡: You both still look delightful.

Thanks, V. Got something to talk to you both about. You two free?

V ⚡: For you? I have all the time in the world 🥰

E 🥁: He said he was about to go to bed, baby.

V ⚡: I said no such thing.

E 🥁: I can send a screenshot of our messages as proof.

V ⚡: You will do no such thing.

Even over text, they're still snipping at each other. Those are your husbands, alright.

BOYS! 👏👏 Important matter to discuss.

E 🥁: You do realize that we can't hear you clap over text, right?

idgaf. it got your attention, didn't it?

E 🥁: I hate that you're correct.

You hate that I'm correct because I'm always correct.

E 🥁: How do you get through doors with that massive head of yours?

You chuckle at that one.

I manage. Now, are we ready to listen?

E 🥁: You're spicy tonight.

I'm sorry, did you, Mr. No-Nonsense-At-All, just call me spicy?

E 🥁: Shut up.

You typed those words and then you hit send! No one to blame but yourself, Eddison. Volt, I think you're rubbing off on Eddie too much.

V ⚡: I'm prone to agree, darling.

E 🥁: I hate you both.

You mouth your next line with a cocky grin before you hit send.

That's not what you said last night.

E 🥁: I'm begging you to shut up.

V ⚡: I'd love to know what our darling Eddie said to you, dearest.

E 🥁: You said you had something that you wanted to talk to us about.

You're deflecting, but I'm choosing to ignore that for now because I do want to talk about something serious with you guys.

E 🥁: You? Serious? This can't be good.

V ⚡: Eddie, you seem like the spicy one tonight. What's on your mind, dearest? Spare no detail for us.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your unsteady mind. How exactly do you tell your rockstar husbands that you want to tank all of your careers at once by going public?

I wanna go public with our relationship.

Just like that, apparently.

I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of sneaking around at midnight with the men I love. I'm tired of pretending like majority of the songs that I've written in the past few years aren't about the two of you.

There's no response for a long time, but you see a text bubble pop up with Volt's name on top of it before it quickly goes away. This process repeats a few time, so he's obviously typing, then deleting, then re-typing something. Volt's always thoughtful with his words, but you've never known him to be someone who deliberates on them for a while. He usually has some lightning-quick, warm response that makes you feel better. This… does not make you feel good, in all honest.

When your phone dings with another message, you're scared to check it.

What if they don't feel the same way that I do?

E 🥁: Are you sure you wanna do this?

Yes.

E 🥁: This isn't a sudden thing.

Relief floods your system at that text. At least one of your boys was able to detect that this had been bothering you for a while.

No, it isn't. I'm finally ready to do something about it, though.

E 🥁: You got a plan?

Monique does.

E 🥁: Monique? You're talking about Monique, the woman who scolded us two weeks ago for holdings hands in public. That Monique?

Do you know another Monique?

E 🥁: You're deflecting with sarcasm.

It's my specialty. This is fucking nerve-wracking.

E 🥁: You were nervous to tell us?

Yeah, Eddie, I was. It's not exactly easy to tell your husbands that you want to implode their careers on a random Friday night.

E 🥁: Baby, you're not saying anything that I haven't already thought about.

Thank-fucking-God.

That's a relief. Volt, honey, I am begging you to say something before my anxiety gives me a heart attack.

E 🥁: You're not going to have a heart attack.

That is easy for you to say, Eddie. You are not experiencing the panic that I feel at the moment.

V ⚡: As long as you're sure about this, little dove, then we'll follow your plan.

You trust me that much?

V ⚡: I trust you more than I trust myself.

I've never been so sure yet so scared of something before.

E 🥁: We'll face this together.

Promise?

E 🥁: I promise, baby.

V ⚡: 💙💙💙

"So?" Monique pipes up, looking at you with expectant and exciting eyes. "Are we going to do this?"

"We are." You say, and for the first time in a long time, you smile without any strings or weights attached to the gesture.

~

"You understand the gravity of the situation?"

"Yes." You nod as Keyes deliberates in her head for a moment, reaching to her right to grab Rainey's hand for support. "I understand that my career could end after I do this."

"And you'd still do it anyways?"

"I… I would." You answer Keyes before a small smile spreads across her face, and Rainey wears an equally proud grin as she curls her fingers around Keyes' wrist. "I want to love as loudly as any other person does."

"You're all grown up." Rainey can't help but let a few tears spring to the corner of her eyes as Keyes squeezes her hand.

"Darling, they'll be fine." Keyes reassures her lover before she glances at you once more. "If the crowd loves you a fraction as much as we do, then you'll be just fine."

"Thank you." You feel your own lip quiver, since you can't imagine where you'd be without Rainey or Keyes. "For everything."

"The world hasn't had enough of our little superstar yet," Rainey puts a smile on her face for you, through her tears, "Knock 'em dead, sugar!"

~

"But I like that one!"

"You're dragging your feet like a toddler," Eddie acts annoyed, but there's an amused smile on his face that shows his true emotions to you, "about a wedding picture."

"It feels like an appropriate response since you want to use the one that was taken after you smeared cake on my face." You accuse, which causes Eddie to let out a choked laugh as he shows the photo you want to Volt by holding your wedding scrapbook up to the phone screen that's got a slightly-pixelated live camera feed of Volt on it.

"You didn't ask me why I like that picture."

"The prosecution doesn't find it to be relevant to the current argument."

"The defense doesn't really give a shit," Eddie stops your courtroom argument with that one, "I like that picture because you're smiling."

"I'm smiling in all of the other pictures–"

"–but it's not a real one. Someone wanted you to smile there," His finger taps the photo you chose before he moves your attention to the photo of his choice with a sweeping motion of his hand, "Here, you're smiling because you're happy to be with us."

"Aww, Eddie," You nudge his shoulder before you peck his cheek, "I forgot how much of a fucking sap you were."

"You love ruining the moment."

"It's my superpower."

"Darlings, can we get back to the task at hand?" Volt's voice draws you and Eddie back to the scrapbook, and, goddammit, Eddie's right. You look so blissful with your eyes closed and a cheesy grin on your face as you attempted to wipe some of that white frosting and chocolate cake off with two of your fingers. Eddie was gentle, only putting a little on your face so no frosting got on your expensive outfit, but you were so distracted that you didn't even notice until the act was already done. "Eddie does have good taste, dear. You look wonderful in that picture."

"That's nice of you to say, Volt." You blow your absent-from-home husband a kiss as the other one loudly scoffs before he shuts the scrapbook with a little too much force. "I'm sorry, are you feeling neglected?"

"You let Volt compliment you, but when I try to give you the same damn compliment, you give me shit about it."

"You sound offended," You lean closer to Eddie before you boop his nose with your finger, which causes Volt to loudly chuckle at your antics, "get over it."

"Oh, I'll get over it, alright," Eddie suddenly snatches your wrist before he pulls you on top of him, eliciting a gasp from you, "when my sweetheart gets their attitude straightened out."

A kiss to the pulse point on your neck, alongside Eddie sucking on your skin, has you folding immediately, your teasing remarks being thrown out of the window as your mind clouds with thoughts of the man in front of you.

"Eddie–" You frantically wave your right hand in the direction of the camera, as your left hand busies itself in the matter of pulling the collar of Eddie's shirt down so you can return his little gift on your neck to him, "–Volt!"

You hear glass loudly clink from the phone — Volt's probably pour himself some wine from a glass bottle — before he sighs in contentment.

"Dearests, do not stop on my accord. I quite enjoy watching the two of you ruin each other."

~

"We might make a poet out of you yet, Mr. Watts." You set Eddie's written letter to your mutual fans onto the counter — Monique said to write one letter from you, Eddie, and Volt to show that you were a united front, but you and Volt got to writing and you both were over two pages with your own thoughts and feelings on the matter. You wanted to sound like humans, not machines who spat out a PR-polished response, so three individualized letters would have to do — as his eyes scanned your words.

"I like what you wrote." He quietly says as he traces your written letters with one of his fingers. "You're good at expressing yourself."

Thanks. It's kind of my job.

That teasing comment, however, doesn't leave your thoughts. You know Eddie's being genuine in this moment — no teasing, no banter, no bullshit — and it really warms your heart.

"I said what was on my mind." You shrug before Eddie hands your letter back to you.

"No sarcastic quip?" Eddie raises an eyebrow with a bit of concern painted onto his features. "What have you done with my spouse?"

"I take my writing seriously. It's personal to me." You murmur before Eddie takes your hand in his.

"Are you sure that you're ready for this?" Eddie seems to notice the anxiety that's buzzing around your person. "We can call this off if you're not–"

"–I'm okay, I just…" You sink back further into the leather couch, ignoring the roaring fans that are clamoring for the collaboration stage that you're about to perform in a half-an-hour, which'll be the last time any of you have any privacy about your relationship since everyone's posts are supposed to drop at midnight — three hours from now, which is equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking, "I want this to be over with. Not just what's going to happen tonight, but also all of the interviews and magazine articles and drama."

"You sound like me."

"And you make that sound like a problem." You blatantly point out, which causes Eddie to lightly chuckle.

"It is, baby, because one of me is enough," His pointer finger goes to your chin, tilting your head towards him, "and I like you the way you are."

"Careful, Eddie," You warn as you hear Volt, due to the obscene amount of necklaces that he must be sporting with his outfit, before you see him, "You're stroking my ego, and that's a dangerous thing to do."

"Is it?" Eddie's lips brush yours, his stubble brushing against your cheek as he speaks. "Confidence looks good on you."

"You make me feel confident," You say before you steal a kiss from him, "Especially when you look at me like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Eddie says, smirking because he knows exactly what you're talking about.

"You're looking at me the same way you did when we first met," You lower your voice, so the various assistants scattered around you and Eddie can't hear what you're saying, "like you want to rip my clothes off and fuck me right here, right now."

Eddie's eyes shine with dark, lustful amusement as a tempting hand lands on your knees.

"What if I did want to fuck you like that?"

"Eddison Watts!" You shriek, lightly smacking him on the arm and moving away from him just in time for Volt to sit in the space that's just opened up between you and Eddie.

"What seems to be the matter, dearests?" Volt places an arm around each of you as you swipe the blinged-out sunglasses from the top of his head.

"Someone can't take the shit that they deal out–"

"–What I said was not an invitation!" You huff, pulling out your phone so you can take a quick selfie with Volt's glasses on before you place them back onto his head. "Volt, honey–"

"–I'm afraid I have to side with Eddie, darling. You do have a track record of…" Volt trails off, lightly pecking Eddie's cheek as a way to encourage him to finish Volt's sentence.

"Starting shit you can't finish."

"Oh, I can finish alright." You grumble under your breath as Volt leans over and places a gentle kiss on your temple. "I'm surprise that you were able to make it tonight, Mr. Movie-Star. I hear you're in high demand these days."

"I am, but I wouldn't pass up on seeing my favorite people in the world." Volt's words drip with gooey, warm affection for you and Eddie as you tuck your head into the crook of his shoulder.

"I wouldn't either. This is the last night that we have as just the three of us." You say, and neither Volt nor Eddie respond for a while, letting that sentiment sit in the air of the room for a while.

After this, you don't get to coyly pretend like your songs are about some background figure in your life. There's no more quiet nights spent pretending like the rest of the world doesn't exist as you savor the reserved space that was just for the three of you. You're now practically inviting the entire world to become a spectator into your relationship — well, more so the bond between you and Eddie, since you and Volt have been headline fodder for years, and the fans of High Voltage who ship Eddie and Volt were more on the nose then they even realized.

Yet again, there's going to be something so freeing about holding your partners' hands in public. Facing the paparazzi together and being able to hide behind Volt or Eddie when you're not in the mood to talk, rather than being pushed to the limit by invasive questions and grabby hands. Monique would be happier, at least, since she'd have to work less overtime when it came to scrubbing the internet of your 'disrespectful' attitude.

"I'm assuming that the three of you have something for me?"

Speak of your guardian angel, and she shall appear.

The main reason you still have a thriving career as a musician casually strolls into the room, green pumps clicking against the tiled flooring as she adjust a brown barrette that pulls her light green hair further out of her eyes. Her eyes are filled with confusion when she's suddenly presented with three written letters instead of the one that she asked for.

"It'd look better if you three were a united front–"

"–We had a lot to say." You cut Monique off as she quickly skims the three letters that she's gathered in her hands. "One letter — one voice — wouldn't have cut it."

"This is good, but I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Monique's praise causes you to lightly flush before she turns to your husbands, "Poetic and charming, which is fitting for Volt, and Eddie's is short and sweet. I… actually prefer this."

"Monique? Deviating from a plan?" You gasp as she glares at you. "Pinch me, I think I'm dreaming."

You should've expected her to lightly smack your leg with the clipboard that she was holding after she stored the letters on it, but you still softly howled in pain at the action before you rubbed your ankle with a frown on your face.

"I have to perform tonight."

"Then it's a good thing that you're not doing any choreography." Monique says without a hint of emotion in her voice. "You'll live."

"You're cruel."

"I don't get paid to be nice to you," She pauses when your frown deepens, "and I also don't get paid to be mean to you. Point taken."

"You get paid to keep me out of trouble–"

"–and that's not stopped you once, has it?" Monique mutters under her breath. "You make the messes, and I clean them up."

"You thrive on my chaos." You grin, which causes Volt to lightly chuckle as Eddie hums with a small smile on his face.

Those two are very sure that they don't want to get in Monique's way because the lecture turns to them, and it doesn't stop until she's expended all of her energy, or another emergency of yours pulls her away from them. That, however, doesn't stop Eddie or Volt from enjoying the view when she tears into you.

"I thrive when I get paid." She harshly corrects. "Remember that."

"Money, money, money. The language of the world, I get it." You sigh before you relax further into the couch, wondering if your skin can fuse with the material and get you away from Monique faster. "What do you even do with all that money, anyways? You live in a small studio apartment and you won't even come and get iced coffee with me once a while."

"It's an unnecessary expenditure. I have a functioning coffee maker at home." Monique's phone suddenly rings, and she quickly answers it, facing away from the two of you. "Hello? …What is it now? What do you mean you found old photos from their childhood? They can't be published tomorrow– put me on the phone with the journalist who wants to run the story. Now."

She storms off, letting you breath easily until you realize that the 'they' she mentioned is you.

Well, I think Monique is still going to have a job after the news drops, because apparently I've been a walking PR-crisis since birth.

"I keep forgetting to ask," Eddie leans over Volt to speak to you, "where the hell did you find her?"

"She was assigned to me after my debut album dropped," You can't help but smile as you crack another joke, "but I think her parents left her on the steps of the record label, and she's been learning how to micromanage people since she could walk."

"Monique cares for you, in her own unique way." Volt tries to speak to Monique's strange way of showing care for you, but you brush him off.

"She's something, alright." Your smile quickly extends into a grind. "She's like an older sister to me. We fight, we poke, we prod, and we argue, but then we reconcile our differences after everything is said and done."

"Never say that to her face." Eddie deadpans, and you laugh at his words.

"I know, she'd give me hell for it." You purse your lips before you stand, extending your hands to your lovers once you're on your feet. "What do you say, boys? One last performance before everything goes to shit?"

The matching grins from Eddie and Volt tell you everything that you need to know.

~

Electrifying. Tense. Ephemeral.

The stage was yours — well, not really just yours since you were here to perform a special collaboration with the boys of High Voltage — with how loudly people are screaming your name.

Bodhi's bumped your shoulder a couple of times, coming over to your mic stand so you two can riff off of each other with your electric guitars for a little bit before you refocus on the performance at hand.

You've performed this song with them before — a song about taking risks and diving headfirst into the unknown, even if it's unsafe, because you know that someone you love awaits you on the other side — but this is the first time that you've really felt the lyrics. You feel like the indecisive protagonist who's trying to figure out if they can live with the regret of not chasing what their heart wants.

But you aren't really that indecisive. Mentally, you're already past the bridge, where the person in the song has decided to say fuck it and take that leap of faith anyways, which is exactly what's about to happen tonight. You've already decided that you're putting your phone on Do Not Disturb as soon as you get off of this stage, so you can at least try to get some sleep tonight, if your worries don't cause you to toss and turn while the moonlight shining into your bedroom fades into morning rays of sunshine.

The performance isn't over yet. You feel alive. You feel reckless — invincible yet vulnerable at the same time. Tonight could be the last show you ever play, if the general public doesn't accept your relationship.

Why not give them something to remember you by?

You already know what you're going to do the moment the last chord rings out over the crowd, and you give a polite bow to the crowd before you set your guitar aside and walk up to Volt while he's distracted, who's waving at the crowd and completely unaware of your meddlesome self approaching him from behind.

You don't tap his shoulder or give him any prior warning — your arms go right around his neck, and his hands land right on your hips before you smash your lips against his.

At a later time and date, you'd learn that your little stunt caused the crowd to break the record for the highest decibel sound recorded for the venue you were playing at.

But in the moment, the frantic screams didn't matter. The outside world didn't matter. You had Volt — and felt Eddie's eyes on your form from the back of the stage — and that was what mattered to you.

Who cares what the world thinks? You'll survive this scandal as easily as you survived the one before it, and the one that'll come right after it. You're a celebrity — scandals and drama are how you keep your name circulating. You got popular because of a scandal with those damn tattoos on your arms. You'll be fine. This'll all work out in the end.

When you break away from Volt, he wears a victorious smile on his face before he presses a quick, featherlight kiss to your cheek as a way to show that he appreciated your little show of affection. You can't leave Eddie out of this, even though he flashes you a look once you glance his direction that tells you that he'd like you to, so you blow an exaggerated kiss towards the drummer before you wink at the audience and saunter off of the stage.

You see Monique face-palming before she spots you, but you can see the small smile that threatens to break through her face at your actions. She's proud of you — of who you've blossomed into, and how you're willing to put yourself on the line to get whatever you want — even though she'd never say it to your smug little face.

"That's going to be trending everywhere!" She shouts, so you can hear her over the screams of the audience that wants to see more of your amorous display.

"I'll be trending at midnight anyways," You chuckle before you grin at her, "might as well get ahead of the curve."

"You're happier than you were." Monique suddenly points out as you walk side-by-side with her, and you can't help but agree.

- I could use a little bit of excitement... thirty seconds sounds fair, right?

“Come on, coz, we are going to be late!”

The ginger Hank grabs you by the hand and yanks you forth. You are barely tall enough to see over the vendor’s tables, but apparently your family thinks that you are capable of procuring some good deals at the ripe age of nine.

Luckily, your lifelong companions and neighbors - the five quintuplets that terrorize the elderly couple that is raising them - are here to help guide you through the bustling crowd.

The one you have dubbed as Hank Three, because their mother had the genius idea to name all of them Hank, is your guiding force as you work your way through the herd of people, hand-in-hand.

Hank One and Four sprint ahead of your merry band of fellows, tossing a small bag of beans between them as they narrowly avoid colliding with every person they come across.

A look backwards shows you Hank Two  and Five, who are actually shopping for the items that their grandparents asked for. Your list is not nearly as extensive as theirs - your family is significantly smaller with only you, your father, and your mother - but you still need to grab some basic necessities from the marketplace.

“You still have your money?” Hank 3 asks, a lop-sided grin on his face as you show him the small bag of coins that your family gave to you for your expedition. “Alright!”

He ruffles your hair, and you scoff in annoyance - the brothers are only a year older than you, yet they treat you like a baby. 

Bread, milk, eggs. You only need three items, but the hefty weight to your coin purse tells you that your parents expect you to bring home a few extra items as well. 

The local baker’s stall is your first stop, and Stefan greets Hank Three with a scowl as you pet his chicken, dubbed Mr. Cluckles by the children of the village.

“I still remember when you boys ate all of my rolls,” He grumbles as he looks down at you, “now, don’t be harassing my only help around here-”

“-I am just here for a loaf, sir!” Your cheery smile does disarm the man momentarily, and you exchange a few coins for a loaf of bread that’s almost as large as your armspan.

“How’s your mother?” Stefan asks as you attach your coin purse to your hip once more.

“Good. She keeps busy around the house, when she’s not yelling at my father to ‘get out of the damn house.’” You lie as Stefan laughs, his chest rumbling, before he tosses you a small, slightly-burnt roll.

“She married that writer, despite what we all said about him.” Stefan smacks Hank Three’s hand away from a golden-brown pastry, “No more hand outs for you or your brothers-”

“-but they got-”

“-a favor for an old friend. Now, run along, you two! I have a business to attend to.” He shoos you both away as a pair of ladies pursue his goods.

You take a bite out of the roll, savoring how it melts in your mouth, as you cradle the large loaf of bread to your chest.

“Ms. Dasha’s next!” You excitedly point out her stall, since you can see her husband’s tall figure peeking out above the crowd of bodies. “I wonder if she will let me pet her cow this time, Hank!”

You turn to converse with your companion, only to see a blank spot where his figure should be standing.

“Hank?” Your cry is soft at first, but then grows loud and desperate as you search the cluster of bustling bodies for any sign of the five brothers. “Hank!”

You twist your body this and that way, stepping up on your tippy-toes to get a better view, but you can barely see over the shoulders of the adults who line the marketplace.

You’re alone. Well and truly alone. You squeeze the loaf of bread, your only form of comfort, as your hand goes to the money you acquired from your mother.

Oh, she is going to be so mad at me for not staying with a Hank, and then I will be stuck in the house all day, just like my father!

A warm voice cuts through the dismay of your worrying thoughts.

“Are you alright?” 

“I…” You look towards the young boy, who must be around your age, as he extends his hand to you. “I was supposed to stay with my friends, but then I got lost in the crowd.”

The sun perfectly aligns behind his white curls, making him look like an angel. His white dress shirt and brown pants are splattered with specks of mud, suggesting that he’s been playing around in the dirt a few moments prior to your meeting.

“May I be of assistance?” His calm yet assertive tone makes you put your guard down, and you are sure that your mother would scold you for being so trusting of a stranger. “What is your name?”

You stutter out your name before you ask for his.

“Voltaire,” He cringes slightly as the name leaves his lips, “but I insist that you call me Volt.”

“Volt. I like it, even though it is strange.” You speak with a bluntness that Volt immediately finds charming.

He smiles, tilting his head back, as laughter slips from his lips. Although the sun is bright, the boy in front of you manages to outshine the bright ball in the sky by leaps and bounds.

“Your honesty is refreshing. Most people feel the need to lie to me.” Volt confesses as your palm slides into his. “I must ask: do you know who I am?”

“Not a clue.” You say as two men, clad in iron armor, rush towards the two of you.

You quickly hide behind Volt, who shields you with his body as one of the guards addresses him.

“Your Highness, must you make us give chase every time we are assigned to you?”

“I grew bored of Miss Keyes’ piano lessons. She is more interested in her own talents than in fostering mine,” Volt’s lips curl into a mischievous smile as you peek over his shoulder to look at the two tall men, “so I slipped out of the manor while she was composing her latest symphony.”

“Her Grace-”

“-before I left, I told my mother and father that I was headed out for some fresh air. They approved of my excursion,” He then moves aside to show you, “I encountered them while I was wandering among my people.”

Among my people?

You give the boy a second glance, and your mouth nearly drops to the dirt path under your feet. You recognize his face from drawings placed on the side of taverns, or the occasional painting that you would see from a glance in an artisan’s booth.

Volt is a prince. The crown prince of Eros, the nation that your tiny little village resided in.

I told a prince that his face was strange… is my whole family going to be executed?!?!

“Your Highness, I am truly sorry for calling you strange!” You shift awkwardly on your feet before Volt squeezes your hand.

“I know you meant no harm,” He reassures you, “and please refer to me as Volt. We’re the same age.”

“But I thought-”

“-are you lost, little one?” The other guard crouches down to look in your eyes, and you slowly nod. “Who are you looking for?”

“My friends. There are five of them. Very loud and a little bit older than me. You cannot miss them.” You give your best description to the man, who tries to follow along. “They were helping me shop for my family.”

“We will help you look for them.” The guard looks up to his companion, who offers you a sharp nod.

“Do not move from this sport, Your Highness. If the captain finds out we lost track of you again…” He shudders. “I would hate to think of the consequences that would await us.”

The pair of guards walk away from you, and Volt lasts no longer than three taps of his foot before he lightly tugs on your arm.

“How would you feel about a small stroll around the market?”

“Your guards told us to-”

“-if I had listened to my guards, I would have never met you,” He reminds you before a teasing remark slips from his lips, “and I would have never learned of my strangeness.”

“Please do not mention that to your family.” You grimace as you walk alongside Volt.

“I think they’d rather enjoy hearing of my exploits over dinner.” He chuckles as you look deeply concerned for your future safety. “You said you had some shopping to do, yes?”

“I got the bread, but I need some milk and eggs so my mother can make dinner.” You shuffle the loaf around in your one arm as your coin purse repeatedly smacks against your hip as you walk forward.

You rather enjoy walking hand-in-hand with Volt, since he moves at your pace and does not drag you every which way, like your friends do. His hand is rather warm, too, and it fits perfectly in yours.

“Does your mother work?”

“No, she just takes care of me and my father. He is a writer!” You proudly speak of your father’s occupation. “He writes all sorts of stories!”

“Your father…” Volt slowly says your first and last name before his eyes widen. “I am familiar with his work. My mother used to read to me when I was younger, and his novels were some of my favorites.”

“Really? Oh, my father will be so pleased to hear that!” You laugh merrily before you pull him off to a certain booth. “Here is our stop.”

Abel tips his hat at you as soon as he spots you, but he only offers an eyebrow raise to the boy that is accompanying you.

“No troublemakers with you today?” He chuckles. “Glad to see that you managed to shake ‘em.”

“Zolotse, be kind to the children,” Dasha lightly scolds her husband before she presses a kiss to his cheek, “the usual for you?”

“If you would?” You shyly smile at her before you reach for the bag attached to your side.

Volt stops you with one of his hands, slowly shaking his head, before he grabs a large stack of gold coins from his pockets to hand to Abel.

“Thank you, but this is far too much-”

“-I insist. My family wishes to share their wealth, rather than take it all for themselves.” Volt grabs the small container of eggs, along with the glass jug of milk, from Dasha. “How long have you two been here?”

“Our stall has been open for…” Abel looks to his wife. “Gosh, how long have we been married?”

“Ten years,” She smiles softly at him, “but we have known each other for fifteen.”

“Ah, I am glad that the residents of this village have been able to depend on your services for such a long period of time.” Volt responds, which causes Dasha to blush.

“This one is very talented in flattery,” She nudges Abel, “you could learn a thing or two from him.”

Abel grumbles under his breath as his face is painted in a red hue.

“Thank you Miss Dasha, Mister Abel!” You grin at them before you turn to Volt. “Shall we?”

“I think we shall. Good day to you both.” Volt politely excuses you both, but not before Dasha can call out to you.

“Tell that father of yours to leave his house! We miss seeing him and your mother!”

“I will!” You yell back as you and Volt walk away from the stall. “My mother used to have a shop of her own, before she married my father. That is why everyone here knows her.”

“She stopped selling her wares?” Volt looks confused. “Why?”

“She had me. When I was little, I took up her time, but now she is busy taking care of my father.”

“He is unwell?”

You frown as you kick some dirt on the ground, avoiding his comforting gaze.

“He is, uh…” Your lips twist off to one side as you fight off tears that bristle in your eyes, “The town doctor says he only has a few months left with us. My mother told me not to tell anybody, though.”

“I am sorry that you have to go through that.” Volt finds an empty stall, and he sets your purchases down so he can pull you into a quick hug. “I know my words cannot fix the situation, but I hope this may offer you a mere moment of comfort in a trying time.”

“I… thank you.” You didn’t realize how badly you needed to hear those words. “You can let go of me now, if you want.”

“Ah, yes, I did get carried away.” Volt lets you go, and you grow sad at the sudden distance between the two of you. “Has our time drawn to a close? I surely hope not. It’s quite rare that I spend time with someone my age who is not Eddie.”

“Eddie?”

“He’s my…” Volt trails off. “Nevermind.”

Huh, I wonder why he does not wish to discuss this Eddie…

“Well,” You let a playful smile appear on your face, “there is one more place I wished to stop.”

“Lead the way.” Volt gathers your things as you look left, then right, then left, before you cross the dirt road that’s filled with people and horses.

“Mister Freddy makes his own sweets, just…” You chew on your bottom lip. “Do not mention anything about his appearance. He is… not your average man.”

“I do not believe that will be an-” Volt pauses as Freddy comes into view. “Oh.”

“Cool kid!” Freddy excitedly waves at you, and you push your way through the crowd of kids to look at his display of sweets. “Oh, and you brought a friend with you!”

“This is Volt,” You introduce Volt to Freddy, who is still staring at Freddy like he has a third eye instead of fur coating his entire body, “can we get a mixed bag of sweets?”

“Anything for you.” He winks at you before he hands you a hefty bag of what may as well be gold to the children of the village. “No charge, of course.”

“Please, Mister Freddy, I can pay you this time-”

“-no, cool kid, they are yours.” Freddy insists, and you crinkle your nose at him.

“Alright, then,” You bump Volt’s elbow with your own, since your hands are very full, “Come on, Volt, let’s find a place to sit!”

He says nothing, but his eyes wander back to Freddy as you take a seat on an open patch of grass.

“Is he- Has he-” Volt struggles to find the words before he sits next to you. “How does one begin to describe what he is?”

“He says he was cursed by a witch who lives in the forest,” You shrug as you set the bread aside, in favor of opening up the bag of candy in your lap, “so no one goes into the forest by themselves after Freddy came out looking like that.”

“A witch?” Volt watches as you pop a lemon candy into your mouth. “You believe in such fairytales?”

“I did not,” You think if you should confess this secret to Volt or not, but you feel like you can trust him with such a thing, “but then a magic woman came to heal my father, and her weird herbs helped him walk for a day. Perhaps it is foolish to believe in miracles, but I want my father to watch me grow up.”

You offer Volt a candy, and he plucks it out of your hand before he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“It is not foolish to have hope,” He says, “and I wish the best for you and your family.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to. My mother is so busy with my father, and the Hanks are nice, but I feel more like a burden than a friend,” You sigh, “and the adults around here are polite, but I hate having to lie to them. I like being around you, Volt, because I can be myself, for once.”

“I enjoy your presence as well,” He smiles as he tastes the candy in his mouth, “you have great taste.”

“Thank you so-”

“-Your Highness!” 

The two guards from early approach, along with a familiar face.

“Coz!” Hank Two runs to you, wrapping his arms around you as he pins you to the ground. “We were worried sick about you!”

“I am alright, I had Volt to accompany me through the market.” You groan as your back hits the ground. “Please get off of me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” He backs off, allowing you to breathe as Volt helps you sit up, “Let’s get you home before your parents get worried.”

“Wait,” Your head snaps over to Volt, “can I come and see you again? I know you are a prince and everything, but-”

“-it would be my pleasure,” He points at a large manor the distance that is barely visible between two hills, “come find me there, would you?”

Volt stands, brushing some strands of grass off of his pants, before he turns to look at you one last time.

“Thank you for showing me your lovely village through your eyes. I hope we get an opportunity to do so again.”

~

The urge to see Volt was too strong.

“Mother, please, my chores are done! May I go out to the market with the Hanks?” You pull on your mother’s skirt, to drive her attention away from the pot of stew that she is making over the fireplace.

“No, honey. You went yesterday. We have enough supplies to last us for the week-”

A sequence of loud, abrasive coughs meets your ears, and you’re quick to run to your father’s side in your parents’ bedroom.

“Father-”

“-go outside, my dear. Enjoy life while you still can,” He gestures you forward before he slowly props himself up on the bed, “you are my greatest achievement. I am proud to call you my child.”

“I wish every talk with you did not sound like a goodbye,” Tears well in your eyes as you hug his frail frame, “is that magic woman coming back today?”

“She is.” Your father plays with a few strands of your hair. “I have little hope, but there is little I can do but rot in bed and await death. If there is a chance I can spend even a second more with you and your mother, then it shall be worth the sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Go on,” He chuckles before he dissolves into another coughing fit, “and tell those boys to stop messing with your mother’s flower garden.”

“I will,” You let go of him before you wipe the tears from your eyes, “I love you, Father.”

“Love you too, beansprout.”

Beansprout. A loving moniker given to you since your growth spurts always seemed to align with the planting season.

I hope he has more time than Farya estimated. Who else would let me sneak out of the house to see a friend?

You spare your father one last hug before you race towards the door.

“Do not take the muddy trail-”

“-I will not, Mother!” You tell her a partial truth, because you won't take the muddy path to the Hanks’ house.

You also will not be seeing the Hanks at all today, but your parents do not need to know about that.

Your feet carry you through your village, through small houses and back alleyways, until you spot the manor in the distance. You march up to the manor with the wind beneath your wings, and you are immediately disappointed when the guards turn you away.

“His Highness is very busy today,” The guard ruffled your hair, which earned a scoff from you, “and Her Grace is entertaining another family, so perhaps you should stop back tomorrow.”

“Like His Grace would let his son be seen with a peasant-”

“-do not break the poor kid’s heart,” The first guard slaps the chest of the second one, “we will communicate to His Highness that you wish to see him again.”

The pair exchange a look before they explode with laughter, and you angrily stomp away until you are out of their eyesight. Those guards were treating you like you were a baby, rather than a child!

I’d kick them in the space between their poleyns if I did not fear the repercussions of such an action!

So, with your very clever mind, you deduce that the best way to see Volt is to sneak over the manor’s garden walls while no one is looking. The guard that circles the perimeter is easily distracted by an apple that smacks a nearby tree, by some divine intervention and not the force of your own hand, of course, and you begin to scale the stone wall.

Your time spent with the village rascals, the Hanks, came to use at this very moment. You had spent far too much time chasing them up trees and buildings that a climb such as this was not daunting in the least. 

Unfortunately, you were only good at climbing up the structure, and a misplaced foot causes you to faceplant against the ground in a rather unflattering manner.

Thank goodness no one-

“Nice one.”

-Shit.

You scold yourself, internally, for using such language as you pull your face from its comfortable home in the dirt. You would like to rest there eternally, to avoid a confrontation with whoever was unfortunate enough to see your blunder, but you must go on and endure this embarrassment.

You look up at the boy, with hair as dark as the night sky, and he laughs at you.

“You are not very smart.” He jokes before he offers you his hand.

“You are not very nice.” You shoot back before you slide your hand into his.

The boy helps you stand, and the teasing smile on his face immediately fades away when you place a bit of pressure on your ankle and grimace as a result.

“Are you alright? That was a big fall.” He points out before he comes to your side and throws his arm over your shoulder. “I can help you, if you are not here to kill my family.”

“No,” You giggle before you turn your head towards him, “I came here specifically for you.”

“Too bad that you are already hurt. I would have cut you down with my sword in no time.” He shows you a tooth grin as your eyes go to the short sword that is attached to his belt. “I am Eddie.”

“Eddie?” You repeat before you remember where you heard that name before. “Volt mentioned you yesterday! Are you a prince too?”

“Yeah,” Eddie blushes as you lean your weight against him, “Volt said something about a peasant kid that dragged him all around town for a few pieces of candy.”

“That is very untrue and is very insulting,” Your grin comes through in full-force as you respond, “I offered him half the bag.”

“He said you were different than anyone he has ever met, and I think I know what he means by that now.” Eddie crinkles his nose at you before you smack his chest with your free arm. “I could drop you.”

“No, please reconsider-” You beg, momentarily, before he chuckles.

“You are gullible.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Come on,” Eddie chooses to ignore your slight in favor of helping you walk towards the manor, “I can help you with your ankle inside.”

“I do not wish to intrude on you-”

“-should have thought of that before you climbed the wall,” He shakes his head at you, “what were you thinking? You could have seriously hurt yourself.”

“I would have survived-” You try to argue, but Eddie refuses to hear you out.

“-what if you had not?” He’s solemn for a moment. “What if I had found you and you were-”

“-Eddie, guard-” You tug on his sleeve, but he, much like your parents, does not give up on his lecture as he marches you across the green grass.

“-then I would have had to tell my family, and they would never chose to let Volt and I-”

“-Eddie, the guard-”

Eddie ignores your pestering as he pulls you towards the armor-clad knight who’s, miraculously, not noticed your presence.

“-you could have seriously messed with my future prospects-”

“-Eddie!” You cry out his name to refocus his attention on the current circumstance. “There is a knight who is blocking the door.”

“Oh shit,” He pulls the both of you behind a large maple tree, “sorry. I got carried away.”

“You think?” You grumble, casting your gaze down to your poor ankle that is slightly swollen from your ungraceful fall. “How are we going to get past them?”

“I learned this from a friend,” Eddie raises his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips, as he collects an acorn in his free hand.

“You saw me do that?”

“I saw the apple hit the tree, and then you fell over the wall, so I figured that those two events were probably connected.” He tosses the acorn up in the air before he catches it with his hand. 

“Throw it off to the left,” You point to a group of bushes that rest against part of the garden wall, “you can pull their attention away from the door, and then we can sneak through.”

“Do you do this often?” Eddie asks with genuine concern.

“Perhaps.” Your lips curl into a smile as Eddie follows your advice.

The acorn smacks part of the stone wall, and it barely makes a sound, but the guard notices the disturbance and walks towards the bushes, which gives you and Eddie just enough time to sneak into the manor.

“You walk slow.” Eddie teases as he closes the door behind the two of you.

“My ankle is injured-” You try to justify your pace, but he will not let you off that easily.

“-that should serve as motivation to move faster-”

“You are terribly mean for a prince.” You huff as Eddie leads the two of you into a nearby washroom.

“My mother says my brutal honesty is charming.”

“She is lying to your face, and you know it.” You lean against the tub, and you hiss as you set some weight on your ankle, which now looks discolored. “This hurts really bad.”

“It looks awful.”

“You are making me feel terrible, Eddie.” You groan as Eddie drags over a stool.

He sits before propping your leg up on his knee.

“Would you rather I sing to you as a method of comfort?”

“Please spare me.” You watch as he retrieves a small glass jar full of what can best be described as liquid goo from behind him. “What the hell is that?”

“A salve. Have you not…” He trails off before he opens the jar and swipes two of his fingers across the top, collecting some of the mysterious substance on his digits, “hold still.”

“You do not need to tell me to-” You squirm as soon as his hand wraps around your ankle, “-hey! You failed to mention that it would burn!”

“Whoops. It must have slipped my mind.” Eddie chuckles lightly as he continues to apply the salve on your skin. “This should heal your ankle within a matter of moments.”

“I do not think that is possible-” You look down your injured leg and, to your surprise, it slowly goes back to your normal skin tone while the swelling reduces, “woah! Is this stuff magic?”

“Depends on what your definition of magic is,” He shrugs as you move your leg off of him of your own free will, “but yes, it is.”

“I wonder if this would work on my father…” You wonder aloud before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I should have kept that to myself.”

Eddie screws the lid back on as your feet kick in the air, your gaze going down to your ankle which looks like it was never injured in the first place.

“Your father is sick?”

“My father is dying.” You cringe as you expel your father’s unfortunate fate into the air for the second time. “The town doctor, Farya, only gave him a few months to live.”

“Shit, I am sorry for asking.” 

“No, it is alright. I never really talk to anyone who is my age.” Your confession feels quite sad, but it is the honest truth. “I spend a lot of time in the house with my mother, who is taking care of my father. He recently started seeing a magic woman, and she said that he could get better, with her help. I think we can afford such a-”

Your face grows warm as you notice Eddie’s attentive gaze that’s honed in on you.

“You must have something better to do than to listen to me talk. …What do princes do, anyways?”

“Wear stuffy clothes and listen to people lecture us for hours on end,” His response gets a chuckle out of you, which brings a small smile to his lips, “your life sounds… simpler than mine. Minus the whole ‘dying father’ thing.”

He winces at the bluntness of his last statement, but you are quick to reassure him.

“Everyone who finds out about my father’s sickness walks on eggshells around us, so my mother and I stopped telling people. I appreciate someone who can speak earnestly to me,” You let the teasing words roll right off your tongue, “even if that someone is a foul-mouthed prince who lets strange peasant children into their home after they injure themselves.”

“This is not my home, but the other parts about you are correct.”

“Tell your tutors that you need extra lessons in etiquette,” You go to slap his shoulder, but, for some reason unknown to you, your fingers curl around the fabric of his black dress shirt instead, “you will not go far if you address your subjects as strange peasants.”

“Not all of my subjects are strange,” Eddie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “just you.”

“Careful, Eddie, you may grow fond of me yet,” You smile, leaning forward to let your nose brush against his, “and then, you may want to see me again.”

“Fond is too strong of a word for you,” Eddie fires back, moving his head closer to yours so your foreheads touch, in an innocent, childish gesture that means nothing to either of you, “I might end up liking you once you are out of my sight.”

“Right, you must wish to rub shoulders with only the aristocrats of society,” You roll your eyes before you pull away from him, “I will make myself scarce, then.”

“Wait,” He grabs your wrist before you can make your escape, “you… you have to practice climbing down, so you do not hurt yourself next time.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That,” He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “I watch you scale that wall a few times until you can land on your feet instead of your face. I can catch you if you fall, or… something like that.”

“I… think that is an excellent idea, Eddie.” You grin at him before you take his hand in yours. “I can learn to climb properly, and you can be a dashing prince who comes to my rescue, if the need arises. Although, dashing might be too flattering of a word for you.”

“And I am the mean one.” He grumbles under your breath before he allows you to lead him back into the manor’s walled-off gardens.

You sneak past the guard, who’s decided to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon, before you approach the wall that granted you entry in the manor in the first place.

You let go of Eddie’s hand, which brings a sudden frown to your face, and you scale the wall as quickly as you did before, with no difficulty. You straddle your legs on either side of the stone barrier as you look out towards your village, which is framed between the two hills that obscures most of the manor from the villagers’ view.

“Everything looks so tiny from up here!” You look down at Eddie, who watches you with a great amount of apprehension. “Come on, Eddie, climb up!”

“I will pass. I like my ankles as they are,” He sighs before he waves for you to come down, “I brought the salve with me, just in case.”

“You have no faith.” You allow yourself one last glimpse of your fair village before your feet travel slowly down the wall.

“You have given me no reason to have faith.”

You feel his eyes crawl all over you as you descend down the wall, safely this time.

“See? No harm came to me.” You do a small spin, to show your lack of injury, which causes Eddie to chuckle under his breath.

“Cute, but you got lucky this time.”

“Did not!” You cross your arms as you pout.

“Then do it again.” He taunts, with no real bite behind his words, and you are now dedicated to the cause of proving this insolent prince wrong.

So you climb up, then down, then back up again more times than you can count, besides the fatigue in your legs. Winded, you rest at the top of the wall as you look out to the landscape that is presented so beautifully in front of you.

I wonder I can see my home from-

“Hey, what are you doing up there?”

You yelp before your body falls to the manor side of the wall, and you expect a repeat performance of your early fall, but Eddie, as he said, catches you with awaiting arms.

“I thought I told you to be careful-” He begins to sternly lecture you until he has noticed that the guard that was previously asleep is now marching towards the two of you at an incredible speed, “you need to get over that wall. Now.”

“What about-”

“-go. We can practice when you come back.” 

You are halfway up the wall before you realize that Eddie wants you to come back.

“You will be here?” You tilt your head at him before he throws one last quip your way.

“Perhaps.”

~

A fortnight of separate encounters with Eddie and Volt does little to satisfy your selfish heart. You find yourself drawn to that manor, no matter the times you almost get caught or break a bone. The excuses to leave your house had dwindled since you did not really have need for them anymore. The magic woman has occupied your parents’ time with promises of healing that are quickly fulfilled, at a price that you cannot begin to understand.

Your mother tried to offer her money, but she refused, stating, “The services I offer cannot be exchanged for mere gold coins. My first installment will collect itself, then I will come for the second at a later time and date.”

With a parting glance to your mother, then you, the strange, mystical healer walked out of your house, never to be seen again. She left a variety of ointments and concoctions in her wake, and your mother quickly worked to use them as a last resort for your father’s conditions.

A miracle had occurred in that household because your father began to have life in his eyes. He gained the ability to hold a pen, and to have more than a few lucid moments at a time. Then came brief periods of walking and wandering around the house, helping your mother and you with chores that he dreamed of doing once more. The mundane to many was exhilarating and celebratory for you three.

You had gleefully told each of your companions of your father’s slow yet steady recovery. You savored Volt’s unwavering confidence and hopefulness for his future, and you found comfort in the jabs, quips, and banter that Eddie offered you as a way to get your mind off of your family affairs for a small while.

Most importantly, your father was going to be okay. He was going to live, thanks to the magic of a woman who you watched wander back into the woods.

During this time, however, you had discovered that today was going to be Eddie and Volt’s last day in your village. You had expected this from Eddie - he was a far-off prince from… what nation was it again?

Ah, yes, Lumireign!

Or maybe that was a different Eddie that you heard of. Either way, Volt was going to his castle on the other side of the forest, and Eddie would be shipped off to another nation. Which, depressingly, meant that you would probably never see them again.

So, there would be today, and then there would be nothing else. You would go back to your life as a simple peasant, with a mother and a father in good health, and they would go back to their princely affairs.

Why, then, does your heart break at such a notion?

You knew this was coming. It was inevitable from the moment you met them both, yet you are so hesitant to let them go.

Do they feel the same about me, I wonder?

You climb the garden wall - this time, in front of a guard that you bribed with a few bags of Mister Freddy’s sweets - and when you land on the other side, you are surprised to see both Eddie and Volt in front of you.

“Good afternoon,” Volt watches as you reach into your bag to grab your parting gifts for them, “I am glad to see you.”

“Me too. I could not help but visit you two,” You toss him an oversized bag of candy, “here. It is for you. Probably not as good as the sweets in the castle-”

“-nonsense. I will savor every last bite.” He glances at Eddie, who wears a tiny smile that is meant to hide his disappointment.

“I should have expected favoritism from you, of all-” The shorter of the pair is shut up by a bag of candy abruptly meeting his face, which causes you to howl with laughter.

“-how could I forget you, Eddison?”

“Why did I tell you my full name again?” He chuckles as he lets the small sack fall into his hands.

“Because you are a foolish prince with a heart of gold.” You poke fun at Eddie before you pop one of the candies that fell into the bottom of your satchel into your mouth. “Soooo, how are we going to spend our last day together?”

“Actually, we have something to discuss with you first.” Volt looks to Eddie once more before he reaches for Eddie’s hand, “In ten years’ time, we will be wed.”

“Wed?” You are confused by his words. “Like… you will be married? To each other?”

“That is how weddings work-”

“-I know that, Eddie,” You roll your eyes, “I… congratulations? Is that what you say to people who get married?”

You watch as Eddie awkwardly fits his hand into Volt’s before he sighs.

“Thanks. It is not all bad, though, since we get to see you every summer.”

“Every summer?” You blink rapidly, in disbelief, “Wait, you plan on coming back?”

“Do you want us to leave you?”

“No, no!” You quickly shake your head left to right. “I… I had come here thinking that I would never see you or Volt again.”

You lightly kick the ground as your face heats up in embarrassment.

“I am truly happy that I get to spend more time with you. I have not felt this much hope about my future in a long, long time.”

“We,” Volt pauses, awaiting Eddie’s nod before he speaks for both of them, “refused to wed unless our parents agreed to such conditions.”

The pair wear matching, scheming grins that make you wonder how they achieved such a feat.

“We might as well get something out of it, if our parents are establishing trade agreements with a big, fancy wedding.” Eddie chuckles as you frantically stumble over and throw your arms around both of them.

“Thank you for everything. For being my friends.” You smile as each boy wraps one arm around you.

You stay in their collective embrace before you pull yourself away from them. With an undeniable spark in your eye, you hold out both of your pinkies to them.

“See you next summer?”

Volt laughs merrily, happily wrapping his finger around yours, before he lightly nudges Eddie’s shoulder. The boy in question huffs and puffs while trying to hide his joyful smile. 

This would be the beginning of something beautiful - you just knew it.

~

Seven years came and went. Seven summers passed you by, where bright, innocent youthfulness transformed into something vaguely resembling the shape of your impending adulthood. Not quite there yet, but close enough for people to throw the responsibilities of such a title upon you.

The first summer was perfect. You were able to show Eddie and Volt the unique wonders of your small village, when they were able to sneak out to see you. The Hanks often teased you for how your companions doted on you by refusing to let you pay for the food and trinkets you would share with them.

“They’re in love-love with you, coz!” Hank Four said, to a variety of disgusted and excited reactions from your neighborhood friends. 

“I will not fall in love with one prince, let alone two,” You scrunched your nose to hide the warmth on your face, “that would be simply absurd.”

“It would give your father some new material for his book.” Hank Three bumped elbows with you before he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “He would love having two son-in-laws who love his kid as well.”

“Will you five cease this nonsense?!?” You threw an apple at Hank Three’s head, but he dodged it, causing your projectile to hit Hank One directly on the nose.

“Food fight!” Hank Four declared before he launched his own assault on one of his brothers.

You all dissolved into wild screams and rowdy laughter, but that thought lingered in the back of your mind. Could you love two princes?

No, that would be silly! They were to be wed, and your father would most likely marry you off to one of his friends’ kids when you came of age. No need to let your father’s romantic fantasy invade your brain more than they already have.

You still could not help but think of such a thing as you continued to spend time with Eddie and Volt over the summer. Soon enough, the time came for them to leave once more, and your parting hug was much longer than it was last time.

The night after they left, your parents noticed that you were feeling a bit down, so they made your favorite meal as a way to cheer you up. It worked - you easily shook your melancholy with a good, home-cooked meal - but that night would be memorable for a much different reason.

While you were scarfing down your food, your mother was suddenly overtaken by a coughing fit, similar to the ones that your father used to have. He immediately came to your mother’s side, lightly rubbing her back, as you watched them with wide eyes.

“Mother?” You asked as she brought her hands to her mouth. “Are you ill?”

“No, I,” She manages to let a shaky breath into her lungs before she looks down at her hands, “oh, honey…”

“What is it?” Your father brings her hands to the table, and his eyes begin to water at the sight of blood on her hands. “Shit.”

“Do not use such language in front of-” Your mother coughs again, and you watch small splotches of blood land on the table.

You were too young to understand what this meant. Too young to watch your mother be reduced to a shell of herself in days, while your father got to enjoy years of his life before his health declined.

Too young to watch your mother be lowered into the ground - her final resting place.

Despair was not apt enough of a word to describe the state that your father found himself in. He refused the bottle that many men crawled into after losing their wives to childbirth or illness, but he was no longer the man who had raised you. It was like you lived with a stranger, as if both of your parents died on the day that your mother took her last breath.

Yet again, you are not the child your father wanted you to be. No longer carefree and unburdened - the weight of the world had been thrust upon your shoulders at such a young age. You took up most of your mother’s household responsibilities, to give your father the space to grieve, as you buried your own hurt within the depths of your heart. Your father needed someone to depend on, and you were going to be that for him, if only to make your late mother proud.

Your father could often be found furiously scribbling into a leather journal, tears streaming down his face, as he stared at an empty garden that would no longer be filled with your mother’s favorite flowers and vegetables.

Some days, you would sit with him, and the two of you would silently weep as you let time pass you by. You were often the one to force him back into the house before you made a stew that was a much lower quality than your mother’s. He still profusely thanked you, and always made sure to clean up the dishes and read you a story before you went to bed. He might be a mess, but he is still your father.

The second summer did not have as joyful a reunion as the first. You were late, barely remembering what day it was until your father reminded you to grab the summer blend of spices from Mister Abel. Even then, once you landed in the manor gardens, you hung back, quietly observing the two boys.

“Hey, you did not-” Eddie’s teasing remark died on his tongue as he noticed the perpetual sadness in your gaze, “-did something happen with your father?”

“My mother,” You choked out before you let months of unshed tears fall down your cheeks, “she’s gone.”

Volt wrapped his arms around you before you had a chance to collapse onto the ground. You had not been held so tenderly since you hugged your mother for the final time. You felt safe, after months of free-falling into the nothingness that threatened to swallow you and your father whole.

“If there is anything you need-”

“-just you two.” You’re muffled by Volt’s chest, but the words get through to both of them just fine.

You feel Eddie’s hand on your lower back, supporting you as best as he can, as you let yourself feel what you had hidden so deeply inside of you.

The grief, the mournfulness that you had stuffed away, was now overflowing. What was supposed to be a happy summer, full of exciting adventures and newfound joy, ended up being more restful and relaxing than you had thought.

You spent most of your free time, when you weren’t taking care of chores or your father, talking through your emotions with Eddie and Volt. You had become a recluse in the last few months, refusing to speak more than a few words to anyone who was not your father, but you were slowly coming back to your normal self with their help.

You smiled more than you had in the past year, and you quickly found yourself falling back into your normal patterns with them. You were sad to see the summer go, to be left alone in your despair once more, but Volt’s parting words left you with something to chew on until next summer.

“We will always be here for you. Anything you need, ever, shall be yours. All you need to do is ask.”

You were, at first, unsure of what to make of his promise to you. You had everything you could want, that was within the realm of possibility for him and Volt to grant you.

You wouldn't act upon his offer until five years later, when you were able to look your father in the eyes as he waved you off for the evening. His heart had healed over slightly in that time, and the man you remembered from your childhood began to emerge once more.

“Tell those boys of yours that I said hello.” Your father jests as he writes along the margins of one of his novels.

“I will, thanks!” 

You have a skip in your step as you walk towards the front door and-

Those boys of yours… oh.

“Father, wait, I can explain,” You do an about-face to look at your father, who is smirking into his book, “those Hanks spread nothing but lies!”

“Not just the Hanks, beansprout. Stefan, Freddy, Abel, Dasha-”

“-enough.” You roll your eyes, which causes him to chuckle. “Must everyone be involved in my private affairs?”

“Your affairs are anything but private-”

“-please have mercy on me, I beg of you.” You whine as your father clicks his tongue.

“Your life would make quite the romance novel. A child of a writer being swept off of their feet by two princes - one who is tall and handsome, with hair as fair as snow on a fine winter’s day. The other has a permanent scowl on his face that is quickly wiped away by the sight of his beloveds-”

“-stop this!” You snatch the quill out of your father’s hand before he can actually make good on his word. “Have we gained that sort of reputation around town?”

“Abel says that those boys follow you around like shepherd dogs, and Dasha is quite surprised that there is nothing official about the three of you.” He shuts his book, rather suddenly, before he leans towards you. “Do you fear their rejection?”

“No, I just have not thought about Eddie and Volt in that way,” You murmur as your face burns with your next admission, “until this very moment.”

“There is no time like the present-”

“-Father!” You scold him before he chuckles, and you let a smile appear on your face as you notice one of your father’s few grey hairs shaking along with the movement of his chest.

Another reminder that he will get to grow old, even if Mother cannot.

You miss her. Not all of the time, like the months and years closest to her passing, but in moments like this, where it should be her and your father teasing you about the potential lovers in your life. You miss the way she’d decorate the house for every holiday with her dried flowers, and the way she made certain foods that could not be replicated by you or Father.

Your father grew to attribute her death with the magic woman - the witch, he said - and you were barred from interacting with any women that shared her characteristics. Old, white hair, skin worn with age - any female village elder, really. You didn’t tend to encounter many spinsters or widows in your daily life, so you mostly kept an eye out for your father’s sake.

The man, in all of his brilliance, had somehow deduced that you were a part of the payment for his healing. A ridiculous notion, one you had tried to shake him of, but he refused to let the matter go. 

“The fate that befell your mother will not happen to you.”

Yes, Father, that fate will not occur because that did not happen. Your mother caught some sort of incurable illness, and she passed away. End of story. There’s no elaborate plot twist due to ancient magic or witches that lived in the forest like in your father’s novels. 

You humor him - he is your father, no matter how wild his storytelling can get - and you avoid odd-looking old women. You do tend to let the matter slip from your mind when you’re with Eddie and Volt, but c’mon. What’s a batty old witch going to do to you when you have two gentlemen, one on each arm, with years of combative training?

“I will be safe, and I will be home after sundown.”

“Before.” Your father corrects you, but you shake your head.

“We cannot see the stars with the sun in the sky-” You try to reason with him, but he shoots your first argument down.

“-surely the three of you can find another activity to occupy yourselves with-”

“-you and your draconian rules,” You scoff before you prepare your next defense, “I am sixteen years of age, mind you-”

“-sixteen years yet still living under this roof.” Your father pushes his metaphorical pawn forward, calling checkmate before you can even figure out your next move. “Before sundown, beansprout.”

“I will convince them to come and visit you sometime so you know who I spend my days with.” You throw out a last resort, one final desperate act. “Father, please-”

“-you promise?” He raises an eyebrow at you before you vigorously nod. “Then I suppose-”

“See you when the church bell tolls twelve!” You slam the door shut behind you before your father can form a rebuttal. 

You no longer have to worry about the various guards and knights that patrol the manor - most of them know who you are, and if they don’t, well… there is nothing that a little bribe cannot solve.

That stone wall that had seemed so daunting to your younger self was now nothing to you and your longer legs. You push yourself off the ground with a small jump, and your hands connect with the top of the wall. You easily pull yourself over the wall, and you land on the other side with the only casualties being the blades of grass underneath your heels.

“You know you can use the front entrance, right?” You hear Eddie’s voice from somewhere around you, but you don’t see him quite yet.

“I thought Volt appreciated my flair for the dramatics,” You place your hand on the hips as you hear the rustling of bushes next to you, “besides, I thought you said you would catch me if anything were to go awry.”

“I did, but that is not an invitation for you to-” He pauses as he spots you first, a moment before your eyes find him, “-oh. Hey.”

Eddie looks good. He always has, he’s a prince, but this is a different sort of good. An ‘easy-on-the-eyes’ good that your father would dramatically describe in one of his works. Maybe his boyish features have melted away, and he looks more like a striking, devilishly handsome young man that could easily sweep you off of his feet with the muscles that his shirt barely hides-

Get a hold of yourself!

Maybe you are hallucinating, but you swear he is looking at you in the same way as his eyes rake over your body. Your chest tightens at the thought, but you cannot allow yourself to get too carried away.

“Hey is for horses,” You chuckle before you hug your friend, “I missed you, Eddie.”

“You did?” There’s a vague surprise that you don’t expect from him. “I mean, of course you did-”

“-shut up and hug me back.” You bury your head in his chest, and you feel his body slowly warm as his hands go to your lower back.

“That okay?” Eddie asks, clearly nervous about overstepping a boundary that feels new yet old, exciting yet terrifying.

“Yeah, uh… sure.” You stumble over your words as you hold on to Eddie for what is probably too long for friendly companions, but neither of you dare to pull away until Volt’s voice greets your ears.

“Darling!” 

Volt had picked up the nickname a year or two ago, but it never meant much until now, until your heart stuttered and threatened to stop because you were his darling.

Their darling, you would hope.

You untangle yourself from Eddie, but not before you place an innocent kiss on his cheek. You miss the red blush that crawls up his neck due to Volt sweeping you up into his arms.

“Volt! Put me down this instant!” You shriek before you dissolve into a pile of giggles.

“I think you enjoy this more than you say,” He swings you around a bit, causing you to cling to him for dear life, “how have you been? Spare no detail - you know how we love to hear your voice.”

His praise causes your stomach to tie itself into knots. When did these two boys start causing such havoc in your heart and mind through the simplest of touches and words?

You think your life is rather inane, but once Volt lets your feet hit the ground, you indulge him and Eddie in a few tales from your time apart. They are nothing compared to the stories of chivalry and royal life that your princes tell you right after, but you find serenity in the mundaneness of it all.

Eventually, the sun dips low, below the horizon, and the moon illuminates the true beauties of the sky - the stars. Collected in various patterns that you’re familiar with by knowledge passed down to you by your father, your fingers trace each and every constellation that is visible to the naked eye.

You lay on the grass, with Volt and Eddie on either side of you, and the three of you just let time pass you by. No words need to be shared, as you’d break the fragile peace that you’ve all established; however, you are unsure of how much longer you can last in these conditions.

You swore that there was some space between the three of you when you started, and as the moon continued to rise in the sky, they shifted closer and closer to you so you were smushed in-between them. It was hard to admire the allure of the stars when you are so very tempted to sneak a look at the exquisite beings that lay on your left and right.

You are a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. They are obviously trying to force a reaction out of you, so you may as well give them a strong one. 

Hands that had once rested on your stomach now had initiative to move. One of your hands slowly moves to your side, and your pinky fingernail scratches against the back of Eddie’s hand before you intertwine his fingers with yours.

His hand… has it always fit so perfectly in mine, like it was always meant to be there?

There is nothing, no response, for a brief moment, and you think to pull back until you feel the faintest, softest squeeze to your hand. A touch that tells you that he’s here with you, and that this is okay.

And maybe you hope that it means that his heart is beating as fast as yours is.

Your other hand settles on to Volt’s chest, on the open patch of skin that’s revealed by a poorly-buttoned dress shirt that should fall off of his frame, and the cloth is somehow tailored to show off every part of his upper body to the best of its ability.

Immediately, Volt places his hand over yours, and his fingers curl around your wrist as he brings your hand to his face. He presses a small kiss to your palm, then one to each of your fingers, before he sets your hand on his cheek. You can feel the warmth emanating from his face, and with a newfound sense of bravery from your actions, you have the courage to speak.

“The sky is beautiful tonight, is it not?” 

“It is wondrous. Simply the finest thing I have ever laid my eyes on,” Volt catches your gaze, and you just know he’s been looking at you the whole time, “would you not agree, Eddie?”

“Hmm?” Eddie rubs his eyes before he props himself up with one of his elbows. “Sorry, Volt, I was staring at them the whole time.”

“I think we both were,” He chuckles as he moves his head closer to you, and your thumb moves to brush against his bottom lip, “quite the predicament we have on our hands.”

“Seems so.” Eddie hums in agreement, watching with rapt attention as you take the plunge and press your mouth against Volt’s.

He kisses you back, with more fervor than you expect, and you drown in his affection as he gingerly places his hands on your chest. Your thumb strokes Volt’s cheek as your lips part from his, and he chases them with his own for another sweet, short kiss.

“You are perfect,” He murmurs, “thank you, my dear.”

“It was just a kiss-”

“-it was everything.” Volt corrects you before he claims your mouth with his own once more.

You melt as Volt drags his hands down your sides, tracing the curves of your body, before another pair of lips decide to join in and attack your neck. You squeal Eddie’s name, but Volt consumes the sound with his mouth as he continues to kiss you. 

Eddie places his other hand on your shoulder, to roll you on your side, so he has better access to your neck. His head finds a home in the crook of your neck as he curls up to your side, slotting your legs in-between his. Lips meet your skin over and over again, in order to find the spot that makes you squirm the most.

This, for a lack of better words, is pure heaven. You’re being worshipped under the moonlight, as if you were Nyx and your princes were your devout followers, and you cannot think about how this moment could possibly get better.

When Volt’s mouth slips away from yours, and you’re both left panting, the manor gardens are briefly illuminated in a bright light from a star that traces a small arch in the sky. You gasp, completely captivated by the shooting star as it follows its path and then fades into the distance.

“No celestial body could compare to yours, starlight.” Volt whispers, kissing your cheek, before he uses his pointer finger to tilt your head towards Eddie.

“Volt.” Your voice softens before Eddie smashes his lips against yours.

You love how desperate you both are for this, how Eddie’s hands slip under your shirt to rest on your back, and how your fingers tangle in his dark locks in an effort to reign in control over the situation. You don’t pull on his hair; rather, you work to massage his scalp, and you shiver at the groans that you force yourself to swallow.

Volt, not to be left out at any moment, presses a trail of kisses from the hand you offered him to your cheek. They’re slow, thought-out, and loving, and he makes sure to offer a word of praise for your mind and body in-between each and every kiss. 

You feel as if you are nothing but a willing ball of clay in their hands, to be kneaded and formed and positioned as they desire. You do not wish to be anything else, and you would stop time if you could. 

“Starlight?” You repeat the name that had left Volt. “Me?”

“No, the wall behind you. Yes, you.” Eddie laughs before his stubble brushes against your chin. “You’re our starlight.”

“Have you-”

“-discussed this previously? Yes, darling, we have.” Volt grins at you. “In great detail.”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip. “Do you remember when you told me to ask you for anything that I needed?”

Volt places a stray hair behind your ear.

“Of course, my shining star. Has something come across your mind?”

“If it would not cause either of you too much strife,” A teasing smile spreads across your face, “I think I need both of you to be mine.”

Eddie chuckles into your ears, the sound traveling down your spine, as Volt kisses your lips once more.

“To be yours, starlight? That would be everything we have ever dreamed of.”

~

The wedding invitation is written in beautiful cursive, in parchment that probably costs more than the clothes that hang off of your frame. You excitedly hand it to your father, whose hair is nearly half grey from three more years of aging, but he forebades you from going.

“There will be knights to escort us through the forest,” You incite another debate with him, “and we will not be making any stops until we reach the other side.”

“No. I cannot protect you from that witch if you travel through the forest-” Your father’s grip on his journal tightens as you argue back and forth with him.

“-then come with me. You can leave this wretched home and rejoin the world of the living-”

“-your mother walked through this home and decorated it herself-”

“-do you think my mother wanted this for us?!?” You collapse into a chair next to him, already exhausted from this conversation. “I cannot - will not - live my life in fear due to the wild fantasies that live in your head. Three days, Father. That is all I ask for.”

“Consider your dear father for a moment,” He places a loving hand on your shoulder, “Surely your loves will understand if you write them a letter to explain your circumstances.”

You sigh as you feel your resolve melting.

“They will think me mad-”

“-then the princes are not the ones who should hold your affections.” Your father explains.

“Those princes have names.” You fold your arms across your chest as a light guffaw escapes him.

“Ah, yes. Darling, dearest, my love, lover-”

My father speaks as if he did not use the same names for my mother.

“-you are a persistent nuisance in my life,” You whine as your face heats up, “You are worse than the Hanks.”

“Now that is a heinous accusation towards your father,” Your father slides a small wooden bowl towards you, “Those boys are nothing but trouble, and you think I am comparable to them?”

You scoff as you reach for the serving utensils in the middle of the table.

“To think that you wanted me to wed one of them one day-”

“-a fatal miscalculation made off of a lack of information,” He quickly rebukes you as he watches you take a healthy portion of his favorite homemade stew, “would you like to marry one of them? I am sure that our neighbors would not mind having one less boy in their home.”

You stick your tongue out in disgust, and your father laughs merrily as you exchange his empty bowl for your full one.

“I would rather choke on this stew than think of letting one of those boys kiss my lips.” The liquid hits the bottom of the bowl with a satisfying plop, and your stomach grumbles before you bring the spoon to your lips.

“That would be unsatisfying for you since you are so used to those soft, princely lips of your lovers-”

You spit out the stew before it even has a chance to fall down your throat.

“-Father, please tell me that you are not writing my life into a novel-”

“-how could I not?” Your father begins to spin a tale, “The secret lover of two princes who are wedded to each other, who first fell in love on a starry night. They decorated their shared darling in purple marks that they tried to excuse to their father as mere bruises-”

“-My life is a waking nightmare.” You place your hands against your face as you try to hide from your father, who is still weaving a complicated plot in his head.

“-then they spent every summer in each others’ embrace, holding on to the last of their youth, before the time came for the princes to be wed. How would their journey unfold henceforth? Would the perils of love and royal life drive them apart, or would their adoration for each other hold steady? Why-”

“-eat your stew, I beg of you!” You squeal. “What must I do to stop this insanity?”

“Promise me that you will keep your heart safe,” He grows serious for a moment as you pull your hands away from your face, “and that you will not go to the castle until I meet them for myself.”

“Father, the coronation is on the same day. The kings of this nation cannot wander freely around the village after their faces are plastered on every building,” You tell him, “we were blessed that the villagers did not notice them as is, or chose to not make their appearance a large affair. It would be near impossible for you to meet them-”

“-One dinner. That is all that I ask for. Then, when I am reassured that you will be safe, the three of you can finalize your plans to stay in the castle together,” Your father smiles as you stare at him, flabbergasted, “that, beansprout, was an educated guess, but thank you for proving me correct.”

“You need a new way to pass time besides meddling in my affairs,” You grumble before a smile threatens to appear on your face, “I will draft a letter to alert Eddie and Volt of my absence, as long as you promise to make good on your word.”

“Tell your dearests that my preferred meat of choice is quail.” He jests as you roll your eyes.

“I will see if they can procure such a thing.” You chuckle before you resume your meal.

Later, under a quivering candlelight, you begin to write a letter to your beloveds that tells of your father’s apprehension towards you venturing into the forest. You wish them both the best, and you tell them that you await their visit in the summer months.

You bring the letter to Holly, who assures you that the parchment will only be unfurled by your princes. You do not expect an answer - you never do, yet you have boxes of letters from Volt and Eddie from your time apart - but you receive one, in the form of whispered gossip that the future kings would celebrate their marriage here of all places.

Not in the capital of Eros, or the wealthier parts of the nation. Here. The tiny village with a manor in-between two hills and a special person that has captured their attention.

Some thought the future kings to be mad for such a decision, others thought it a good show of faith towards the peasants, the people that they would spend their lives serving. You took no stock in their rumors - you would simply ask the boys themselves when they arrived.

The village was set into a frenzy for the weeks leading up to the wedding and coronation. The streets were cleaned thoroughly, every house decorated in the colors most often associated with the pair, grey and white, and the vendors made sure that only the best of the best was on display for the kings of Eros.

The rumor mill did bring in visitors to a village inn that you had never seen fully occupied, and although it was nice to see fresh faces among the crowd, you wish that they would stare at you a lot less.

Have they figured out my secret, or do their eyes wander too much?

Eventually, the day comes for Eddie and Volt to arrive, and a marvelous parade takes place in the middle of the marketplace. You watch with Hank Zero in your arms, and you’re amazed at how unfussy this baby is.

Yet again, Hank Five has always been less… overwhelming than his brothers, so you cannot be too surprised by such a thing. His partner had been dealing with a minor illness, so you volunteered to hold your honorary nephew as the royal carriage rolled past you. The windows are blocked off, for the safety of the kings, but you still wonder if they can see you through the dark curtains.

Roses are thrown from by the coachmen, into the arms of expecting men and women, but his eyes widen once he spots you. With a wink, he tosses a whole bouquet in your direction. Hank Five catches them for you. 

He plucks a note from the middle of the arrangement, and he gestures for you to swap his child for the roses after he reads whatever is inscribed on the small card.

“The King and his consort certainly have their eyes on you.” He nudges your shoulder as he bounces Hank Zero in his arm, who expels happy giggles from the action.

Starlight,

Would you do us the honor of joining us for the celebration of our marriage? Come tonight or early tomorrow morning. We will be awaiting you.

Love,

Volt & Eddie

“That message was not for you to read.” You huff, your face hot, as you shove the note into your pants pocket.

You hug the bundle of roses to your chest, as if you were hugging one of your lovers, and you quickly disappear into the crowd not long after.

You make the trek to your father’s house, tightly clutching your treasure in your arms, and your father is far too happy to investigate the source of such a gift.

“Now you look like you are being properly courted,” He says when the flowers enter the room before you do, “can I assume that you will not be joining me for dinner?”

“That would be a safe assumption,” You awkwardly place the roses in one of your hands as the other searches for a vase in a nearby cabinet, “I will see you tomorrow, then?”

“As long as you promise-”

“-no speaking with older women, and do not add or subtract from the village’s population,” You repeat your father’s rules back to him as you place the roses into the vase, “May I be excused?”

“As long as you bring your cloak with you.” 

“I will.” You nod before you set the flowers on the wooden table in the middle of the room. “Father, could you water the roses for me?”

He hums as you rush into your room to throw a cloak over your shoulders. You press a kiss to his cheek before you give your father a small hug.

“Love you.” You murmur before you run out of the front door.

Your feet carry you along a familiar path, to a manor that rests between two hills, and you are unsurprised by the few souls who beg for an audience with the kings. You are surprised to see Abel and Dasha among the small flock that has gathered around the large double doors. 

What would they have to ask Eddie and Volt about?

The guards serve as a flesh barrier between the manor and the people. Although you could easily fight your way through and present yourself to the guards, who would most likely let you in, you would like to avoid the drama that would come from that. People would ask questions, and your close relationship with Eddie and Volt would be compromised and then revealed to the public.

And, well, old habits do die hard, do they not?

So, you sneakily make your way to the garden wall, as a knight and one of the villagers get into a quarrel, before you scale the wall and end up on the other side. There’s no handsome prince - king, you have to remind yourself - to greet you with a kiss and an arm around your waist. You have to use the remnants of the evening sun to navigate inside of the manor.

You leave your dirty shoes on the floor mat, so as to not bring any mud into the house, and your spirits are lifted when you hear your lovers’ voices from somewhere in the sitting room.

“Eddie, it cannot possibly hurt to entertain one or two of townspeople for the night-”

“-I would agree, but this is not about their day-to-day lives. They want us to address a myth about an old witch who lives in the woods.” You hear Eddie sigh deeply. “Will they stay there until dawn?”

“We cannot know for sure, unless-” He cuts himself off when a floorboard under your feet creaks, alerting them to the presence of someone else in the manor. “Who is there? Reveal yourself at once!”

You emerge into the light, hands held up in an admission of guilt for simply existing, after you hear two swords being unsheathed at the same time.

“...Hi.” You breathe out before you hear metal clatter against the ground.

“Starlight, you should have used the door.” Eddie places his hands on your waist as you wrap your arms around the neck. 

“I thought the crowd would become suspicious of us if I had pushed through them to see you,” You exchange a few kisses with Eddie before you rest your forehead on his, “Something is bothering you. Both of you.”

“Nothing will ever get past your clever mind, will it?” Volt places a hand on your lower back before you tilt your head back to peck his lips. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”

“How could I refuse after such a generous gift from you?” You tease before Eddie squeezes the flesh on your hips.

“I picked out the flowers-”

“-I know, Eddie, they are beautiful.” You almost forget about your previous inquiry as Eddie and Volt work to pull the cloak off of your shoulders. “Thank you, beloveds, but do I need to be fully undressed to hear what is on your minds?”

“That certainly would help.” Eddie murmurs in a low voice before he takes your hands in his and leads you to a nearby loveseat. “We missed you.”

Volt trails right behind the two of you, and his hands tug at the hem of your shirt as you all collapse into the comfort of cushions and blankets. 

“The people of your village are concerning themselves with the supposed witch that lives in the woods.” Volt kisses your neck, his white strands of hair tickling your cheek as your hand lands on his bicep.

“My father is to blame for this. Since my mother’s passing, he has been spewing utter nonsense into the ears of anyone who will listen to him,” You groan as your hand goes to Eddie’s cheek, “I apologize on his behalf. He is a man buried in grief, and he does not mean to cause any harm.”

“I worry that his concerns may be warranted, little star,” Volt mumbles into your skin, “There are a multitude of stories about people undergoing strange transformations or befalling unfortunate fates after they wander into the forest.” 

“Those reports may be baseless rumors,” Eddie scoffs before he presses his lips to your wrist, “I wish we were only here to see you.”

“That will not stop us from adoring you since you have taken the time to visit us,” Volt grins before he captures your lips with his for a brief moment, “our people can wait until we have taken care of our person.”

Clothes go flying not long after that, and you quickly pull your loves up to the primary bedroom on the second floor, where you are well taken care of. The heat from the amorous exchange lulls you into a restful sleep that you wish would have lasted you the whole night.

The pounding of fists against the front door stirs you from your slumber, and you hold the bedsheet to your naked chest as you run your nails up and down Volt’s arm in order to rouse him.

“Hmm?” He cracks one eye open before a smile graces his lips. “What have I done for you to bless me with your radiance so early in the day, starlight?”

“Someone is at the door,” A yawn leaves you as you stretch your free arm, “I do not know how you and Eddie slept through the ruckus.”

Volt catches your hand in order to bless your palm with a burst of warm, affectionate kisses. 

“Let me dress as you wake my husband,” Volt pauses to listen to the non-stop banging on the door, “I am unsure why this cannot wait until the sun is fully up, but the interruption must be important.”

You roll over to face Eddie as Volt works to gather some semblance of a king-like outfit. You shake Eddie’s shoulder lightly at first, with a sweet, honeysuckle voice to boot.

“Eddie, dear?” You press a kiss to his cheek in order to encourage him to wake. “Can you please wake up?”

Eddie groans before his eyes snap open.

“You are not an early riser,” His eyes go to the blanket that you clutch in your hand, “ah, you want something.”

“You read my mind so easily,” You kiss Eddie as he tries to pull the blanket from your grasp, “but not this time. Volt wanted me to wake you.”

“It is early. Too early to handle anything besides the two of you.” He successfully throws the sheet off of your body, which causes you to squirm and him to laugh. “Good morning to me.”

“You enjoy torturing me,” You whine before you pepper his face in kisses, “you have someone awaiting you and Volt at the door.”

“Someone who seems very eager to break down our doors,” Volt sounds annoyed as he tosses a spare shirt and pants at Eddie, “come down when you are ready, darling.”

Eddie lazily reaches out his hand to catch them before he wraps an arm around your waist. He quickly tosses the clothes aside in favor of pulling you on top of him. You squeal before your hands wander all over Eddie’s bare chest.

“The sun will be high in the sky before you see either of us-”

“-have a little haste, Eddie,” Volt catches your gaze after you turn back to look at him, and you cannot help but notice the smirk on his face, “but I can excuse your lateness for a few moments.”

“Volt, you have willingly fed me to the wolves.” You pretend to pout as Volt places his hands on the bed in order to lean forward and kiss you.

“You act as if you do not enjoy being spoiled by us.” He throws one last tease your way before he leaves the room. “Sleep well, my dears, if you manage to get any at all.”

Hopefully this visitor does not keep Eddie and Volt for too long…

“Starlight,” Eddie whispers their favorite name for you before he pins you to the bed, “Let me please you one more time. I have a bad feeling that this will pull us away from you for a long time.”

You happily agree, and you can only hope that your moans remain unheard by the person who is still going at the poor front door. Eddie kisses your temple before he tucks you back into bed, and you enter a restful haze as you hear three voices talk below you.

“-we are tired of waiting, Your Grace. We will march at dawn, with or without your permission.”

“You want to hunt a witch who may or may not be wreaking havoc on your village. If we cut off the head of some poor woman who happens to have her residence in that forest, are you prepared to face the repercussions?”

“Volt is right. We need to think this through-”

“-how many more people will need to come to harm before you nobles act? Abel and Dasha cannot have a child, Stefan’s chickens no longer produce eggs, Freddy was transformed into a beast, and that poor writer will have his wife and child taken away from him if we do not act.”

“Writer?” Volt repeats before he speaks your father’s name. “Is that who you are referring to?”

“Yes,” The third voice confirms, “that old hag tricked him into giving up his wife and child’s lives in order to maintain his good health.”

Tricked? Father…

You fly out of bed, dressing yourself in a mixture of Volt and Eddie’s clothing before you sneak out of the bedroom to listen to the conversation more clearly.

“But they are fine,” Eddie argues, “why would she leave them for later?”

“Vegenance? Power? Fear?” The unfamiliar voice offers Eddie a variety of answers. “If you want to save their life, before the witch comes to claim them, then meet us at the edge of the village. We will establish a plan of attack from there. Good night, Your Grace.”

You hear the door slam shut as you sit on the top step of the stairway.

“Eddie, please-”

“-that man is trying to force your hand through them,” Eddie softly explains, “does he know? Does everyone know about-”

“-no, they do not. We have protected our starlight from public scandal so far - this is no different.”

“What do we tell them?” Eddie asks as you watch Volt, through the bars on the stairs’ railing, pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“We will say that something required our immediate attention, and that we will make it up to them tenfold when we return.” Volt offers a solution that causes Eddie to nod.

Once you see them head back towards the stairs, you scamper into the bedroom and assume your previous position on the bed by the time Eddie and Volt come in. 

“My shining star,” Volt coos at you as the back of his hand brushes against your cheek, “keep our bed warm while we are away.”

“Sleep well,” Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before he moves away from the bed, “we will be back before you know it.”

There’s the brief shuffling of feet, the rustling of bedsheets as you’re tucked in once again, and then the door shuts, leaving you to your thoughts.

What if harm comes to them because of the village’s collective foolishness? I cannot - will not - allow that to happen.

You linger in bed for far longer than you need to, just to make sure that Eddie and Volt are gone, before you rise for the final time.

I will follow them into the forest - at a distance, of course.

Your feet travel down the stairs with a bit less gracefulness than you’d like, and you nearly faceplant on the ground when you miss the final step. Luckily, you catch yourself on the railing before you find your shoes by the back door.

A peek through the windows shows that only a few guards are surrounding the manor, and most of them are losing or struggling in the battle against fatigue. It should not be too hard to sneak past them and-

Knock!

A quick, sharp nod to the front door pulls your attention away from your escape plan. In your naivety, you answer the door, believing it to be one of your lovers or a guard with an important message that must be told to you urgently.

What if it is terrible news about Eddie and Volt?

You certainly hope it is the first one.

You crack the door open, and you blink once, then twice, as you take in the young girl in rags that stands before you. 

“Where is your-”

“-Mother wandered into the forest alone,” She rubs her eyes to fight the sleep that she desperately needs, “can you help me find her?”

“I…” You would agree to help the girl, but you hesitate at the notion of going into the forest alone and unarmed.

Maybe my father’s paranoia is finally getting to me.

“Come inside. I will make you some tea so you can rest. His Grace can help you when he returns from the expedition with his husband.”

“Ex-pe-di-tion?” The girl sounds out the word as she steps into the foyer before you close the door behind her. “Woah, you live here? Are you royalty too?”

“No, I, uh…” You struggle to find an excuse for your presence here. “I attend to the kings’... personal matters.”

You can hear Eddie poke fun at you for such a poor excuse, but the little girl seems to buy it.

“You are far too stunning to be a simple peasant.” She calmly says as you grab a kettle to hang over the fire. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen. You?” You then work your way back into the kitchen to grab some teacups and tea leaves.

“Two-hu-” The girl coughs into her hands. “Nine. I am nine.”

The poor thing must be so shaken up that she does not remember her own age.

“Nine, huh? That is how old I was when I first graced these halls,” You fondly recall your first with Eddie, “although it was not my best showing, I did manage to win over their hearts.”

“Is that how you ended up working under them?” She asks, and you nod to keep up the lie.

“Something like that. Would you like a blanket, or a spare change of clothes? His Grace has clothes from his younger years that would surely fit you better than-”

“-I am okay, I just worry about my mother.” The girl frowns before she politely sits in an armchair, picking at the fluff on one of the arms as you wait for the kettle to heat up.

“Who is your mother? I am very familiar with the people of this town, so I may be able to-”

“-we are not from these parts,” She jumps in before you have the chance to offer your help. “We have been staying at the local tavern and inn for the past three days.”

“Are you from Eros?” You inquire.

“I… I do not know. We have been on the move since I could walk.” The small child hugs herself, as a weak form of comfort, as the metal kettle whistles its normal, high-pitched melody. “I miss my mother so much.”

I yearn for my own mother, too.

You carefully handle the pot of hot liquid after you place a fingerful of tea leaves in the girl’s cup, then yours. You pour the water out, one cup at a time, before you settle the kettle aside to cool.

“Would it be too much trouble to ask you for some sugar? My mother always made my tea with it.” Her soft eyes stir your heart, and you are quick to nod before you rush into the kitchen to gather the needed substance.

You scoop out an ample amount of sugar into a small bowl, and you bring it to the girl, not noticing how the teacups were switched in your absence.

“Thank you, kind stranger.” The girl offers you a gummy smile before she puts two healthy scoops of sugar into her teacup.

“You are welcome,” You take a sip of your glass, ignoring the foreign flavor that greets your tongue, as you look at the girl, “what do you think of the blend?”

“It is unlike anything I have ever had. Do the kings both enjoy this kind of tea?”

When did it get so warm in here? “Um,” You begin to fan yourself as a strange heat builds all over your body, “I think so.”

“Are you alright? You look… off.” She wears an odd grin as you barely manage to set the teacup on the center table. 

Why does everything hurt, and when did the room start spinning?

“My head,” Your hand goes to your skull as a sudden pounding rattles your mind, “I apologize. I must be suffering from the whims of the weather.”

“Not the weather,” The girl explains, “just magic.”

“Magic?” You manage to get out before your throat closes up.

The witch… this must be her daughter, or-

“I told you that I would come for your father’s debt at a later date,” The girl transforms into an old lady - the old lady, the magic woman that healed your father, “and today is that very day.”

My father, Eddie, Volt… no one is here to help. I will die here, with no one to capture my last moment but her.

You fall into her arms, with no voice to cry out for help, as the witch brushes a few strands of hair out of your eyes.

“Rest now, little one,” She closes your heavy eyelids for you as your senses slowly numb, then cease to work, “you will join your mother soon.”

Mother… Father…

You take once last breath, in time with your heart’s last beat, before you pass from this realm to the next.

~

You awaken in your childhood bed, which is far too small for your adult body, and you roll out of bed as strong beams of sunlight shoot through the open window in your room. You attempt to close the curtain, but you are thoroughly freaked out when your hand goes through the white curtain.

“What the fuck-”

“-honey, breakfast is ready!”

Mother?

Your mother’s voice is the last thing you expect to hear as you continue to try and touch the curtain, but every attempt fails as your hand disappears into the fabric that hangs from the rod above the window.

Am I… am I dead?

That can be the only possible explanation for your mother’s presence. You have died, in the arms of a strange woman, never to see your beloveds or your fathers until their time has come.

Is this the fate that was written in the stars for me?

“I made your favorite, dearest, so-” Your mother cuts herself off after she walks into your room. “You… you are not supposed to be here.”

“Mother, I…” A tear falls down your cheek. “I missed you so much.”

You give your mother a hug that is long overdue, a hug that contains years of longing for your mother’s touch and guidance through pivotal moments of your life. Her hands cup your cheeks as two twin streams run down down her face.

“The witch… she finally came for you.” She figures out the ending to your story before you have a chance to tell her yourself. “Oh, honey, I am so sorry.”

“I get to be with you now. I will be alright, Mother.” You reassure her as she forces out a laugh.

“A child comforting their mother after they die…” She shakes her head. “You have grown so much, yet all I see is a small child who wants to cling to my skirt all day.”

“I would do so if you would let me.” You joke as you pull away, ever-so-slightly, from your mother. “We have so much to catch up on.”

“Indeed. Shall we start with you and those princes of yours?”

“They are kings now, mind you,” You remind your mother as she leads you into the kitchen, “and we are-”

You cut yourself off. You were going to convince your father, with the help of Eddie and Volt, to let you stay in the castle as an “advisor” of sorts.

No longer is that an option…

“They are going to find my body,” A horrific realization dawns over you, and you nearly gag at the thought, despite the smell of your favorite breakfast foods greeting you, “and it will break them. Then Father will need to be told, and I fear what he might do since I am now-”

“-I think our breakfast can wait for another time,” Your mother squeezes your hand, “To have a moment of your time is enough for me. We can have our family reunion when death comes for you properly.”

“That is not how this works, Mother. I am dead, and I will stay dead,” You babble on, “You cannot mess with the laws of nature.”

“You are not dead. This is a curse, given through that tea that you drank, meant to imitate death until your body rots itself from the inside,” She explains, and your eyes light up with hope before she crushes it with her next sentence, “You cannot save me. I am gone to the wind, my dear.”

“How are we-”

“-I am unsure. This is unlike any iteration of the afterlife that I have heard of,” Your mother rests in a chair as a tired smile creeps onto her features, “I am stuck wandering through my old memories. Some days, the three of us go out to the marketplace together, and you are barely old enough to walk. Others are from a time before you, when your father and I were courting one another.”

She then looks at you, and her smile becomes wide and proud.

“You are my greatest work. Your father has created many, many wonderful stories, but yours is my favorite. I love you, my dear, and I will always be watching over you.”

“Always?” You murmur as she takes your hand in hers once more.

“Always.”

Her hand is warm, but it does not… feel like hers. Your mother’s hands were worn from years of gardening, sewing, and cooking, but this hand feels soft, as if it has never once done any of those things.

Who is holding me, if not her?

“It is almost time for you to go.” She stands as you continue to stare down at your hand in hers, your brain spinning with a myriad of thoughts.

What does this mean? Where are we? How could I possibly go back home?

“Mother, you cannot send me home-”

“-that is true, but I am not sending you home. Someone - well, two someones - are retrieving you from the clutches of death.” She laughs before she pecks the left side of your face.

Once again, the touch comes from her, but it is not hers. These lips have done this motion hundreds if not thousands of times over the past three years.

“Volt,” You whisper as your tears choke you up, and your mother presses a kiss to the other side of your face, and you know exactly who kissed you there, too, “Eddie.”

“Those boys love you very much. You will be in good hands with them, beansprout.” She pushes herself onto her tippy-toes in order to peck your forehead and, finally, you are graced with her motherly touch. “One last thing, before you go.”

Invisible strings pull you away from her, your hand slipping away as you desperately reach out for your mother.

“No, wait! I need more time with you-”

“-tell your father I said hello.” She says before this mysterious force throws you out of the front door.

“Mother!” You shriek before a blinding white light forces you to shut your eyes, then reopen them.

You expect to be greeted with green grass as your ass hits the ground, but instead, soft bedsheets cradle your stiff, aching body.

What has happened to me? Was this all just a weird dream?

Confused, you stretch your limbs before you climb out of bed. You clearly remember the little girl becoming the old woman, her staring down at you as you took your final breath, and then whatever fugue state you were just in with your mother.

This was no dream. I saw my mother before I was brought back to the land of the living. How much time has passed? Hours, days, weeks, months?

You slide out of bed, the same place where you had rested your head on that fateful night, and you slowly walk down the stairs to hear four melancholy voices discussing something in the kitchen.

“It has been a week,” You hear your father blow his nose before he continues to talk, “I wish to lay my child to rest.”

A week? My conversation with Mother was so short… yet it took up so much time here.

“I understand that, sir, but these things take time. I still need to take measurements for the coffin, plus receive some sort of down payment, before we finalize everything.” A voice that you do not recognize discusses plans for a funeral that will not be taking place, as soon as you reveal yourself to them.

“Everything will be covered by me and my husband, I assure you.” Volt’s voice sounds so weak and frayed, and it makes your heart break.

You quickly finish your descent before you casually stroll into the kitchen. Eddie, Volt, and your father are facing away from you while the funeral planner is looking you directly in the eyes.

Please do not freak out.

“I should measure the body of your child…” They stumble over their words as their mouth hangs open at the sight of you. “...that is somehow standing right behind you?”

“What?”

Three heads snap back to stare at you, and it’s a mad rush to collect you in someone’s arms. Eddie makes it to you first, and he nearly makes you both collide with the floor as he pulls you into his embrace. His tears soak the collar of your shirt as he buries his head into your neck, and you are quick to run your fingers through his hair. Your eyes go to Volt, who is barely holding back a stream of his own tears, as you try to comfort Eddie.

“We thought you were dead.” Eddie chokes out as you press a kiss right above his ear. “You were freezing when Volt and I found you.”

“I thought I was too, if that is any consultation. My mother explained that I was under a curse, cast by the witch while she was in this home, that would make me look dead. She wanted you to bury me alive, and then I would eventually die from starvation or suffocation.” You clarify as you hold Eddie in your arms. “I am here, my love, and I will not leave you again.”

“You better not,” He chuckles lightly before he looks up at you, “and you are not to answer the door if we are not home, starlight.”

“Eddie, the witch dressed herself as a child. How could I say no to her?”

“Spell it out, if you must.” He jokes as you roll your eyes.

“Your wit is sharper than ever.” You fluff up Eddie’s hair a bit before your lips meet his. 

“How did you break free of the curse, I wonder?” Volt asks as his hands meet your waist, his head finding the empty space on the other side of your neck.

“Well, I believe that it may have to do with a pair of kisses that were planted on my cheeks while I was… sleeping,” You chuckle as you feel Eddie and Volt both blush at your comment, “but it could have been my mother’s work, too.”

“Did you see her?” Your father quietly asks.

“I did. She says hello, by the way.” You murmur before Volt tilts your head towards his in order to kiss you repeatedly.

“Was she happy?” 

“Yeah, she was,” Your hand goes to your face to wipe away a singular tear, “She says she cannot wait to see us, when it is our time to join her.”

“That is your mother for you, beansprout.” Your father weakly chuckles as you untangle yourself from Eddie and Volt to hug him. “If you wanted me to meet your lovers, you could have brought us together in a less dramatic fashion.”

“Can you take this more seriously? I nearly died!” You scoff as he loudly chuckles.

“Yet you are standing right in front of me.”

“Maybe I will go upstairs and rest for another week-” You threaten before you are cut off by Volt.

“-absolutely not, dearest. We need to prepare dinner for your father, so Eddie and I can properly introduce ourselves to him.” He kisses the top of your head before he slips past your father to speak with the forgotten person in the room. “You are dismissed, but we would appreciate your discretion about what has occurred here.”

“Right,” The funeral planner nods their head, “good day to you all.”

They scurry out the front door as you chase Volt into the kitchen.

“You have never cooked a day in your life, Volt. You will burn this whole house down!”

“Good thing we have you, starlight, to teach us.” Eddie slides in next to you, his hand settling on your back as you gather a few ingredients from the cupboards. 

“I love you both,” You move to kiss Eddie, then Volt, “and I will stay by your side. Always.”

“That is a promise we shall all keep,” Volt smiles lightly, “and I assure you that you will never have to worry about that woman again.”

“What do you mean?” You dare to ask.

“She had a fate befitting of her transgressions-”

“-the people of your village ripped her limb-from-limb. Literally.” Eddie interrupts Volt before you make a disgusted face.

“I wish I had not asked.” You retrieve a chef’s knife from the knife block before you call out to your father. “Will you come in here for a moment?”

“Of course, beansprout. What can I do for you?”

“I know I have told you about our plans to stay at the castle, Father, but I was wondering if you would like to come with us?” You tilt your head at him, eyes pleading with him to accept your offer.

“We would love to host you and your child. Anything you need will be taken care of.” Volt reassures him as you slowly show Eddie how to slice a few vegetables.

“Can I humbly request quail as our meat of choice for our first night in the castle?” Your father says before you burst out laughing.

“You are ridiculous-”

“-anything means anything. Eddie and I adore your child, and there is nothing we would not offer to make either of you happy.”

“Then I suppose I could use a change of scenery,” He smiles before he rushes over to your side, “but first, we need to teach you boys how to cook.”

The day passes merrily, with joy instead of grief, and four hearts find a strong, binding connection in one another.

…And that binding may have been in a literal sense, with the bandages that end up on both Eddie and Volt’s hands from attempting to help make dinner.