the prophecy

They were quite mysterious in their ways, with enough whimsy that Lex didn't grow bored while never going to the point of ridiculous. He didn't consider himself picky about company, but old habits died hard. Hana implemented themselves effortlessly into his life. This one was far easier to be a part of when each move wasn't scrutinized or observed by a stranger's gaze. In Cardinal Hill, the only way he got seen was when he wanted to and by those he trusted most. Still, none of them knew the truth, and as far as Lex was concerned, it would stay that way. "I don't know what you're calling lame," he prompted with a huff of laughter pressing through his nose. Even if they were right, he wouldn't reveal that, having an interest in his own niche evening activities regardless of what Hana's opinion was. "Like a tooth fairy who steals people and doesn't leave any money," Lex spoke one more time before allowing them to explain the plan for the night.

Once through the window, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jean jacket, and he bounced along down the road with his friend, who always tickled his wild side. "Don't think so." A shrug. Lex hadn't gotten around to everything, especially with working taking up more time than he initially thought when taking the gig. While he'd skinny dipped before, it was usually in a stranger's pool or occasionally the ocean, but only for a moment, never knowing when any unwanted eyes might be lingering. This might be the first time he didn't need to worry about any other gaze besides that of the other swimmer. He didn't mind those either.

"I'd just be a gift to them if they could," Lex joked with far too much truth behind the words. He didn't mind anyone enjoying the view he had to offer, so long as it came on his own terms. Besides, he couldn't share the memories he had of doing this in his youth or the cove in Laguna Beach that was perfect for a night swim. "If I knew no thinking was going to be allowed, I would've at least brought a smoke." A groan followed his words, but the feeling of their hand made it faint. At least for now, he could settle down and do his best to keep his head from doing any work. "You don't happen to have one, do you?" It was worth a shot.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Laughter bounced out of them before they could stop it–quick and bright, like a spring uncoiling. “A gift, huh? Can’t wait to unwrap the present, then!” They snickered, feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The sound carried into the night, cutting through the heavy quiet that had been sitting on their shoulders for some time.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The carnival still loomed in their mind, all lights and echoes and the wrong kind of memories. They shouldn’t have been wandering the lake at this hour–especially not after everything that had happened lately–but the alternative was staying home with their thoughts, and that felt worse.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ At the question, they unwrapped their hands and shoved one into their bag and rummaged around until metal clinked against their fingers. “Dude, come on,” Hana said, pulling out a small tin and holding it out triumphantly. “You think I go anywhere without an emergency stash?” They handed Lex the box, smirking, before ducking their head back into the bag in search of something else.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When their fingers brushed what they were really looking for, they froze for half a second. Their gaze flicked toward Lex–just a heartbeat, just a thought–and then they zipped the bag shut again. Later.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Streetlights painted them both in amber and blue, the kind of glow that made everything look softer, safer than it really was. Hana kicked at a pebble, watching it skip across the asphalt. It was almost enough to make them forget the way their chest had ached a few weeks ago, sitting on the street with Vale, almost confessing everything and then not.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The memory wasn’t unpleasant–they loved their friend–but they were afraid of spiraling in the dark, so they forced themselves to think of other things.

"Well, yeah, glitter is a very important step." she muses, "it's messy, though." Bowie is having flashbacks of spilling a container of glitter at work once, followed by weeks of finding little specks of it anywhere and everywhere. Some donations were best left with the donors. "I usually go for black nail polish. Easy to cover up mistakes."

"I sewed it on a little crooked but you'd have to really be looking to notice. Or people have just been too nice to say anything." Better than holding it together by a safety pin, though she did rock that for a bit until she found a replacement button.

"It doesn't help," Bowie agrees, a slight smile emerging as she tries to distance herself from his words. Whether it's true or not, it scares her more than she's willing to admit. She chews the inside of her cheek, her thoughts drifting to the night of the carnival. "Yeah, I get that, " Bowie can't relate to being a parent, destined to only be a cool aunt one day, she understands why he would keep her away from the carnival.

"I want to believe that it was sabotage," she says, honestly. Bowie gets that like humans, witches aren't always full of good intentions, but she's never given it much thought as to what would happen if the balance between good and evil shifted.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Haruki’s lips twitched at her question, a laugh escaping before he could stop it. “A hint, huh? Okay… it’s not edible–though now I kinda wish it was.” He tilted the canvas toward her a little, squinting at it as though he were seeing it fresh. “Think… tall, bright, turns with the sun. Which I clearly failed to capture.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Black polish, though–that’s a classic. Can’t go wrong there. You’ve got mystery and practicality.” He set the brush aside, resting his chin in his hand as he listened.‎‎

‎ ‎ ‎ When she explained her original idea, his smile faded to something smaller. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Me too. I’d rather it be sabotage than… something worse. Something that’s just part of this place.” He rubbed at the back of his neck again, feeling uneasy.

‎ ‎ ‎ "Have you been in town long? Are you from here?" His anxiety wasn't helped by the fact that, upon crossing the threshold into Cardinal Hill, he'd felt something very, very wrong.

With Pascal at work, the house was empty for Lucien and Felix, which Lucien was personally enjoying. It wasn't that he wasn't free to be himself with housemates home - in fact, Lucien was actually extraordinarily comfortable with his arrangement - it was just always nice to have space and time alone with friends. The scene greatly contrasted the hustle and bustle of the carnival just passed, and giving its grisly ending, Lucien found himself seeking out the comfort of shadows, quiet, and isolation more and more. Felix's presence was more than welcomed, however; it always was.

As Felix was putting the final touches on their art, Lucien had his bass in his lap, pretending to be working on a new song, when he was in actual fact more than gladly just chowing down on the treats that they had brought over. They were an absolute life saver, Felix; Lucien appreciated them for much more than their baked goods, but God was that a nice perk to the friendship.

"Well naturally," Lucien spoke with a smirk and teasing tone. "There's no other way to make me look." He winked at his friend playfully before he threw the remaining bite of a biscuit into his mouth and moved to place his precious bass on its stand. He was a step away from seeing Felix's masterpiece when the knock on the door echoed throughout the small house. "I'm gonna go get that first - not because I don't want to see it in all of its glory, only because I'm fucking starving," he laughed as he reassured the other, stomping away to the front door with little to no worries at all on his mind. It was such a pity that that was about to change so greatly.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ For a heartbeat, Felix didn’t move.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Lucien stood in the doorway, frozen–his silhouette framed in the spill of hallway light. Something in his posture made the air in the room shift. Too still. Too silent. Felix’s grin wilted, confusion prickling across their skin. “...Lucien? If it’s the pizza delivery guy, I can get the tip, promise–” The teasing trailed off when they stood.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The hollow ache in their chest stirred–the same, awful familiarity that had been haunting them since they were a child. They crossed the small living room, taking slow, careful steps, until they could see the open doorway–and then froze.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Oh,” they breathed. The air felt colder.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Standing outside, the same hair, eyes, same tired smile, was…Felix’s throat tightened. “Oh,” they said again, smaller this time. “Oh, no.”

Jules usually has a pretty good pokerface, but when Luna's list of guesses landed on a correct answer, he couldn't help but show his surprise. "I'm impressed, it is a medical code. You know Wrathchild, another band in Cardinal? Whole bunch of dickheads, yeah it's about their lead singer. If you're really curious, look it up in the DSM." Jules hadn't actually told anyone what the number means, and he also hadn't told anyone how to find out. He could probably link it to them guessing it, or some deep dark protective nature with their fawn-like appearance, or maybe he was just sick of the mystery, no one ever really cared enough in the first place. Didn't get the reaction he wanted.

"You can trust me when I say that as well, I know what complete shit sounds like. Very well." Jules is talking about a certain rival band in Cardinal Hill, but I shouldn't have to point that out. He watched them rock on their heels, analyzing them, he didn't know what he was looking for but there was something about them that interested him. Maybe how they hadn't run away yet. "Sorta similar, more bass obviously. I fucking hate summing up my music to genres, but I guess kind of metal? Pretty psychedelic stuff, good to listen to high if you ask my opinion. You should come to a show, it seems just like your crowd." The sarcasm was palpable, but he was genuine in telling them they should come.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Luna could feel her face warming the longer Jules spoke, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was embarrassment or something more complicated. Maybe a strange mix of both. She laughed, nervous and breathy, trying to cover her fluster with humor and praying that she wouldn’t start laughing like that again. It didn’t help that Jules’ leering eyes were staring her down. It wasn’t uncomfortable–just foreign. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I, um– I think they would wear clothes,” she countered, fingertips ghosting over her lips as she did her best to hide the smile that crept across her face. “Something dramatic, probably long flowy robes or something. I don’t know, maybe you aren’t passing the test.” Luna shrugged, feigning indifference, but she was still smiling.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When he admitted the name was a medical code, her eyes widened again, a little delighted by having guessed it right. “Wait, really?” Excitement outweighed her shyness in that moment and she cupped the side of her cheeks with both hands, grinning. She tilted her head as he explained further. “I have heard of them,” though, the only reason she had was because of Felix, who was close with the band members. Her eyebrows furrowed and she nodded once–maybe she would look it up.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I’m assuming there’s a history there,” she waved her hand, “With Wrathchild?” The statement was all but confirmed when he spoke again, and Luna found herself laughing again–which nearly bubbled into her nervous laughter as his eyes raked over her again.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Luna looked down at her outfit after his jab. She didn’t take offense. For all the dark makeup and piercings, her outfits were particularly colorful and eccentric, covered in hand-stitched galaxies. “Okay,” she blurted out, not making eye-contact. “Time and place. I’ll check it out.” Her eyes flickered back toward him, feeling particularly brave in that moment. “I, um, have high expectations. You better not sound like complete shit.”

he gives a soft smile when the man comments on his own time spent in galleries, javed finds that oftentimes art seems to be what connects seemingly different people. he's always happy to hear about what someone enjoys about art or their favorite artists. to him, it feels a bit like javed is experiencing the world through their eyes, if only for a moment. maybe that's what he likes about being a gallery curator.

"oh! absolutely! are there any pens around here? " he immediately starts looking around for a writing utensil, putting his own stack of vhs films down in order to pat his pockets. he gives a short laugh upon realizing he has nothing to write with on his person. "i really need to start keeping one on me. they have to have some by the register, right?"

 ‎ ‎ Theo watched Javed’s pen search with an amused smile, one that only deepened as the man patted his pockets like he might conjure a pen out of thin air. “Wait–oh, no, that’s on me,” Theo said, laughing under his breath. “I should’ve given you the pen too, shit, sorry.” He reached into his jacket and pulled it out. When the pen was handed back, he flipped the notebook shut with a quiet snap and gave a grateful grin.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Thanks for that,” he said softly. “I’ll check it out for sure. How long’s the exhibition up for?”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His gaze drifted to the wall clock behind the counter, and the grin faltered just slightly. The hands were crawling toward evening. The light outside had started to shift–gold melting into gray–and the thought made something uneasy tighten in his chest. He cleared his throat, tucking the notebook safely away.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I should probably get this tape rented before it gets too late,” he said, tone casual but with that hint of hesitance people get when they’re hiding nerves. “Haven’t been sleeping great, so–trying not to make it worse.” He didn’t want to tell someone he’d just met that his illness seemed to get worse at night.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you at the gallery, yeah?”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Connor let out a quiet laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh–believe me, I’m aware,” he said, glancing down at the growing stack of damp napkins in front of him. “I’m not exactly planning to repent or anything, though. It was just bad coordination, not divine punishment.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He leaned against the counter, watching Gideon scrub at his shoe with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. He hesitated, then added with a sheepish grin, “Let me buy your next drink? Call it an apology before you accuse me of any more venial sins.” His tone was light enough, but his heartbeat was beating in his ears.

Laughing as they walked together hand-in-hand, Griffin replied, "Well I don't know if I'm especially good at them, but I make up for it in determination. I'm not going to stop until I win you the grand prize." It was something Griffin would have done back when they were actually together. All of this was actually, and the way they came back together like powerful magnets attracted only to each other was slightly terrifying. That wasn't something Griffin wanted think about now; that would come later.

"Otters are not water rats!" Griffin exclaimed with another laugh. "They're objectively one of the cutest animals on the planet, so it's perfect for you, one of the cutest men on the planet." Although they were bantering, Griffin meant what he said. "They do hold hands, don't they?" he remarked with a knowing smile, squeezing Theo's hand once more. When talked switched to funnel cakes and the like, Griffin replied, "Well what a way to go, right? You'll die with a smile on your face. I won't let that happen though, even if I have to eat the funnel cake myself. I will do this for you." Griffin said this all with a serious expression on his face, as if this was some painful duty, but then he just laughed.

Griffin wasn't totally sure if Theo were actually going to go into the funhouse, but he kept hold of him as they stepped inside; he was not about to let them get separated. Looking into the silly mirrors, Griffin laughed at Theo's comment, thinking of a funny retort, but he was coming up empty. So before the silence could stretch too much, he said, "I'd still hit it." There was a pause, and then Griffin laughed. "I don't know why I thought that would be funny," he told Theo, but it actually was.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Theo blinked at the mirror, and then at Griffin’s reflection beside his, laughter bubbling up before he could stop it. “You’d still hit it?” he echoed, incredulous and wheezing a little as he pressed a hand over his mouth. “God.” He was almost 40 years old, but Griffin still managed to make him feel like a teenager.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He looked at their warped shapes again, the way Griffin’s shoulders stretched impossibly wide, the way Theo’s cane bent like it was made of light. It was ridiculous. It was childish. The sight of Griffin’s gaze in the mirror–split, doubled, but still unmistakably him, still made Theo’s breath catch.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I missed this.” Theo admitted. It barely came out above a whisper, meant for the mirror more than Griffin. He could still feel the ghost of his ex on his lips, and he found himself lifting his fingertips to his mouth in thought. The two of them laughed through the rest of the funhouse, and Theo felt himself grow increasingly disoriented. When they reached the other side, he sighed in relief–he hadn’t needed to use magic to make himself feel…better.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Okay,” he smiled, though slightly more nervous now. “I wanna see you win me something ridiculously huge. Something I haven’t seen before.” He teased, nudging him with his free elbow

It was the time of year that came regardless of it she wanted it to or not. She waited for so many that not they lost their meaning. Life seemed to do that. Whether Fallon expected it to stop for her or nit was another thing entirely. Nothing stopped the roll of time. When there were quiet moments, like those spend with Dante, where she savored each second in presence, as if the world would snatch them away from even her memory. She memorized him. His touch, the way he made her feel, each curve, and everything she couldn’t miss. each detail etched into her until Fallon felt like he was a part of her.

Tonight she’d taken special care to make sure she looked her best. While he’d seen her every morning when she hadn’t a bit of makeup and her hair frizzled by the nights activities, he saw *her*. Still, she’d taken a little more time tonight to make sure her curls were just right and that red lipstick wouldn’t be going anywhere. It’s been awhile since Fallon cared this much about growing a year older, wondering if a person to spend it with or that she had a reason to look forward to the next.

Her pastel blue dress hugged each curve, door swinging open to expose her already grinning demeanor. He’d caught Fallon at her best without her even knowing it. “Hi,” was all she happened to get out upon catching a glimpse of her date. “Oh, thank you,” she finished with a blush coming into view. It could’ve been just another night and she’d have put in the same effort to see the look on his face. Her jacket hung from the rack beside the door and the trench was tugged on before exiting the door, making sure to lock it behind her, she wouldn’t be coming home that night anyway.

“You ready to go?” Fallon knew the answer but asked as if it was a mystery, standing outside her front door. "Wait, I haven't gotten my kiss yet," she protested, leaning forward to steal a smooch before they went on their merry way. With a satisfied hum the blonde pulled back, a hand still on his collar, eyes closed as if to linger on it a moment more. "Now we can go."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Dante smiled against her kiss, that little hum of hers melting something in his chest. When she pulled back, he stayed close for just a second longer–close enough to breathe her in, the faint hint of perfume and lipstick and the warmth that was all Fallon.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Now we can go,” he echoed quietly, voice roughened by the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You keep that up, I might forget where we’re even headed.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He stepped back just enough to open the car door for her, dipping his head a little like a shy kid playing at being a gentleman. When she slid in, he caught her eye through the windshield for a heartbeat before circling around to his side. He was glad he’d managed to hide the case in the back.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The drive wasn’t far, but he took it slow anyway. The kind of slow that made the night stretch, music low and the world dim enough that he could sneak glances at her every few seconds.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “You look–” he started, then faltered, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “Aye, hell, I was gonna say ‘nice,’ but that don’t even come close.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ One hand rested on the wheel, the other near hers on the console, close enough that if she reached out, he’d meet her halfway. “Happy birthday again, Fall. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a long time.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The drive curved toward the edge of town, where the lights thinned out and the world went quiet. “Promise it’s nothin’ shady,” he joked, glancing over at her. “No back-alley drag races, no secret heist. Just somethin’ I wanted to show you.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The car rolled to a stop near the overlook–where the town spread out below, scattered lights blinking like fireflies under a velvet sky. It wasn’t fancy, but it was quiet, peaceful, and his. He’d come here after races, after bad days, after everything. It had become a staple of his over the past few months, and now he wanted it to be theirs.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Stay here a sec,” he said softly, slipping out into the cool night. The trunk opened with a faint creak, and he carefully lifted out the guitar case. His palms were sweating, which felt ridiculous after all the hours he’d spent picturing this exact moment.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Okay,” Dante murmured, holding the case like something sacred. “So–I’ve been savin’ up for this for a while.” He unclipped the latches, the soft click of metal breaking the night’s stillness, and lifted the lid. Inside, the Washburn gleamed–a warm, chocolate-brown guitar, perfectly polished, strings ready to sing.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I, uh, wanted you to have this. A songbird should have some accompaniment, yeah?” He hesitated, heart hammering. “And, uh-” a shaky laugh escaped him- “I was hopin’ maybe, uh, I could have a piece of that too. Officially.” His voice softened, the world holding its breath with him. “Fallon, will you be my girl?”

Once they were in line though, the conversation took a turn, and Copper wished he could do something to ease his brother's worries, especially since Copper had kind of been responsible for them. "Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have brought it up." But he had, and it felt like he needed to try and ease his big brother's apprehensions. "Being good doesn't mean you only do good things, Aris," Copper replied quietly. "I mean...everyone has done things they wish they could change. Being good is just trying to do the right thing and accepting that sometimes you'll get it wrong. We're imperfect creatures Aris."

Maybe he could turn the conversation around a bit by talking about how Ocean saw Aris. Nodding, Copper responded, "Yeah, or like you're every star in the sky, the entire tapestry of them. It was like he knew how lucky he was, and he wasn't taking it for granted." Of course Copper couldn't be sure of what Ocean was thinking, but this made sense to him. Besides, Copper wanted it to be true. Already Copper wished he hadn't mentioned the dream, but he thought it would be worse if he ignored it; who knew what Aris's mind would go? So Copper decided to just be vague. "There was someone on the ground," he explained. "He wasn't moving, and people were rushing to help him. And Ocean...he just stood there. But that wasn't really the part that stuck out to me. A lot of people were helping this guy, so Ocean was just staying out of the way probably." For a second, Copper paused before telling Aris, "The part that unsettled me was that in the dream, he felt guilty. Like strongly guilty. Like...maybe it was his fault." Copper hadn't planned to tell Aris all of this, but hopefully his brother would see that everyone had their secrets.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Aris huffed out a breath that was halfway to a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face like he could hide the color in his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, his voice roughened from embarrassment but still fond. “I just… didn’t think I’d have to live with the idea of you seeing it.” He shot Copper a mock glare.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “And for the record,” he added after a beat, elbowing him lightly again, “I’m not competing with you and Corey. Weirdo.” Aris turned away to hide his laughter, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But the teasing softened as Copper’s hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him in a way that hit a little too deep. Aris’s expression faltered–his smile thinning into something smaller, more thoughtful. “No,” he said finally, shaking his head a little. “I haven’t. Not like this.” He didn’t look away when he said it, but his voice dropped to something almost fragile. “I didn’t think I could.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When Copper tried to take the blame for the darker turn in the conversation, Aris shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re just being a good brother. I want to believe that’s enough–to keep trying, even when I’ve already screwed things up. But it’s hard when I know what’s still out there. I’m such a little hypocrite, huh? I always tell you this shit. Look where we are now.” His lopsided smile returned.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When Copper started describing the dream, though, Aris’s brows knit together. He didn’t interrupt. Just listened. The longer Copper spoke, the more the tension built in his jaw.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Guilt,” he repeated under his breath when Copper finished. “That tracks.” He leaned back against the counter, eyes distant now, thoughtful in that way that meant his mind was already spinning through possibilities. “He’s been carrying so much of it lately. Things he hasn’t shared. And I… I haven’t pushed.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Absent-mindedly, he began balling his hands into fists. There were a plethora of reasons Ocean could have felt guilty over something. Guilt was normal, a human emotion, but the way that Ocean felt guilt felt amplified. 

Like Aris, Ocean heard the sirens in the distance, and everything suddenly felt so real. Something terrible had happened at this carnival, and not just to Ocean. Looking around, it seemed like a series of terrible things had happened all across the carnival, and Ocean knew his experience with the eye was tame by comparison. Yet here you are still being a baby about it, the voices whispered. So Ocean tried to be brave despite how unsettled he felt right now, just focusing on Aris’s grounding presence. And to be honest, that was more than enough to calm Ocean’s nerves. Not only was his boyfriend strong, he was sweet and kind and understanding too; Ocean had never felt safer with anyone else. 

Once they were in the bathroom, Ocean told Aris, “It’s okay if it hurts a little.” But it didn’t. Aris healed the wound expertly, and apart from a little heat, he didn’t feel anything except the absence of pain. “You’re so wonderful, Ari,” Ocean said softly, examining his arm. “Thank you. And thank you for putting up with me.” Again he eyes Aria’s shirt, and Ocean once more promised, “I really will clean your shirt.”

The sirens outside were getting close, and Ocean instinctively reached for Aris’s abs as he looked toward the door of the bathroom. “I think you’re right,” Ocean agreed. “I think something really bad is going on.” That was something even a human like Ocean had picked up on in the recent months, the feeling only getting stronger. They needed to leave, but there was time for something else first: Ocean kissed his boyfriend back, his hand still on the other man’s abs. “I love you too, Ari,” Ocean replied. “I love you so much.”

As much as Ocean had been unsettled before, it was nothing compared to how he felt when he heard Aris’s tone. “Do you think we’re in danger?” Ocean asked. “Like immediate danger?” It was something Ocean had considered, but hearing the fear in Aris’s voice seemed to confirm that it was a distinct possibility. Determined, Ocean grabbed Aris’s hand, saying, “I’m ready when you are.” And then after giving Aris another kiss, the pair stepped out of the bathroom. 

The entire way to the car, Ocean just kept running with Aris, as if stopped meant the end. And maybe it did. While Ocean didn’t sense that they could die from whatever was happening, not tonight at least, he didn’t want to take any chances because something was definitely wrong. But they made it to the car, Ocean climbing inside, his ankle throbbing. “That was…that was surprisingly scary,” Ocean said, locking his door. Looking at Aris, he asked, “Is something wrong, Ari? What aren’t you telling me?” But Ocean’s tone was gentle, and he grabbed Ari’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Aris’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. Too tight. His knuckles had gone pale beneath the faint glow of the dashboard lights, but he didn’t loosen his grip. The hum of the engine was steady, but everything else, the distant sirens, the flickering carnival lights fading in the rearview mirror, felt fractured and wrong.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He glanced over when Ocean spoke. For a moment, he didn’t answer. His throat worked once, the way it did when he was trying to choose the right words; maybe over the honest ones.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  “Yeah,” he said after a long pause, “something’s wrong.” He tore his gaze from the road to meet Ocean’s eyes, if only for a brief moment before flicking forward. “You know, I felt it when I first got here. Witches got a sense for this sort of thing.” Aris exhaled through his nose, frowning. “I felt it when I got to my brother’s house and it was covered in wards. I felt it during that damn storm. I think there’s Witches out there that are trying to start shit in Cardinal Hill.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The idea made him sick. He had come to Cardinal Hill wanting to protect his brother. He hadn’t expected to get attached to the way the small town carried itself, the hum in the air. Certainly he hadn’t expected to get attached to Ocean the way he did, but he was glad it happened.

But Griffin pushed all of that out of his mind. Right now, he wouldn't think about that, would leave that as a problem for future Griffin. That version of him was going to hate present day Griffin, but that was also a problem he could put off for now. "I like being the knight in shining armor," Griffin replied with a grin. The way that Theo leaned against him felt to natural, so right, and he loved it. He missed it. So for now, he would just enjoy it. "What prize was that?" Griffin asked, smiling. He doubted Theo meant him, but he could hope, even if that wasn't something he should hope for. "I'm going to win you a prize, Theo. Isn't that what manly men do?" Griffin laughed, flexing his bicep and grinning. "I really am going to win you something though," Griffin promised.

There was hesitation before Theo reached for his hand. That was something Griffin noticed immediately - he really did know his former partner incredibly well. But then Theo grabbed his hand, and Griffin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You think so?" Griffin asked as he helped Theo out of the boat; he didn't let go of the other man's hand when he was done. Instead, Griffin leaned into Theo a bit as they walked like that through the carnival once more. "You're not a rat," Griffin said, his voice soft yet firm. "You're like...I don't know, an otter or something else cute like that." Griffin had just been trying to make Theo laugh, but as he looked over at the man, he thought it kind of fit.

The pair walked together toward the funhouse, Griffin looking up at it. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "You're right, I'm your knight, but I can protect you against like...I don't know, a funnel cake or fried Oreo or something." Griffin was silly, and he realized he missed this side of himself; he missed who he was with Theo.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Theo couldn’t help but laugh, quiet and breathless, when Griffin flexed. It felt too easy, the way their rhythm fell back into place, like no time had passed at all. He tried not to think about what that meant. Tried not to think about how his fingers fit against Griffin’s like muscle memory–something that had lived in his hands long after everything else had fallen apart.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Oh, yeah?” he said, trying for playful, even if it came out softer than he meant. “I didn’t realize the carnival knight was so good at games.” He didn’t pull his hand away, didn’t even pretend to. His thumb brushed the edge of Griffin’s knuckle as they walked, and for a second, the noise of the fair–the laughter, the pop of fireworks, the hiss of oil and sugar–blurred into something distant.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Griffin called him an otter, and Theo barked out a laugh, eyes shining. “An otter,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You know that’s basically a fancy rat, right? A water rat. But sure, I’ll take it. They’re cute. And they hold hands when they sleep, so…” His tone dipped at the end, the words lighter than the weight in his chest.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ They stopped in front of the funhouse, the flashing lights cutting across Griffin’s face, catching on his smile. Theo’s pulse jumped. He knew this wasn’t them–not really–but God, it felt like it. Felt like slipping into an old coat that still smelled like home.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “You’re underestimating funnel cakes,” he murmured, glancing up at him. “They’ve got powdered sugar. That’ll send you into a food coma.” His voice softened again, something unguarded flickering at the edges. “But yeah. I’m sure. Let’s go.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He squeezed Griffin’s hand once before stepping forward into the maze of mirrors, the world breaking and doubling around them in fractured reflections. At one of the turns, he looked at his reflection and started laughing. “Look, my cane looks like a wizard’s staff.” It reflected back at them, curved unnaturally at the top.

Thinking back to that first night and morning together, Leo admitted, "At first I was nice at the bar because I wanted to get into your pants, but pretty quickly it became because I liked you too. I mean...like I have always said, spending the next day with you was very out of the ordinary for me. I should have known then that was I done for." At the time, Leo had talked himself out of the notion that he might like Felix, largely because he didn't want to burden Felix with a mess of a boyfriend. Sometimes Leo still worried that he was doing Felix a disservice, but he respected Felix enough to make their own decision about that. Grinning, Leo jabbed Felix in the ribs and teased, "So you liked me from day one, yeah?"

"You being scared to introduce me isn't very reassuring," Leo told Felix, but he was smiling, just giving his partner a hard time. "They're important to you, so I want them to like me. I've never met a partner's parents, so this is actually really unfamiliar for me." And that was what made it so scary. But Felix was saying so many wonderful things, and it was doing a lot to ease Leo's fears. "I love you, Fi," Leo said softly, leaning in to kiss his partner. "You seem me in a way no one else does, and you make me want to be a better man." Leo even resolved to stop drinking so much, but he knew resolutions meant nothing without action behind them. "It will never be embarrassing how much you love me, Fi," Leo assured the other, and he meant it.

Leo wanted to meet all of Felix's people now, which was another new feeling for him. Still, he was a little surprised by what Felix had said, both because they had used magic in front of someone but also because they had used magic at all; it made Leo happy to think he might have helped Felix come to terms with their power. "I'd love to meet him," Leo said. "What did he say when he saw you use magic? And how did that even come up?"

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Felix laughed, the sound glittering and happy and slightly chaotic. The sobering effect of the earlier conversation was beginning to wear off now that they felt better. “We should really get to work on filling the rest of the gallery,” they said between giggles, leaning into Leo until their shoulders touched. When Leo’s fingers brushed their ribs, Felix snorted and pressed closer, laughter bubbling up again.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “They’re gonna love you,” Felix said earnestly, still smiling through the next kiss. “I’m glad you don’t find me embarrassing. I know I can be… a lot.” The words came out half-teasing, half-vulnerable, their tone a mix of affection and shy self-awareness.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ They paused, as if the thought had just resurfaced. “Oh! And speaking of a lot–” Their grin widened, eyes bright with the memory. “You should’ve seen his face. I think the first thing he said was, ‘what the fuck.’” Felix laughed again, a little breathless. “I can’t really remember now, but, uh, I used it to stop something from falling in his trailer. Didn’t even think about it, just–instinct. I didn’t want it to break. It was his, and I just… stopped it.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ In their current state, they completely pushed away the part where they almost had a panic attack after revealing that part of themselves.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Their voice softened, gaze dropping for a moment. “I blame you,” they said, half a smile tugging at their lips. “You’re the one who made the whole magic thing not feel gross.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It wasn’t that the sickness–the strange, wrong pulse that came with using their magic–had disappeared. But around Leo, it didn’t feel like it was rotting them from the inside out. It felt quieter. Manageable.

"It's nice to meet you, Connor," Dimi replied, again smiling at the man. "I don't think I've seen you around town before, but then again I'm pretty new here, so that could be why." Shaking his head, Dimi held his hands up and said, "No, you really don't owe me either of those things. But I'll be happy to have a drink with you - one I'm paying for mind you." The bartender came over to them then, and Dimi asked, "What do you say? Have a drink with me? First round's on me, and before you try to fight it, I insist."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His face flushed further and he held his hands up, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Gosh, absolutely not. I’d like to think that my mom raised me better than to just go throwing drinks on people.” The kindness from him was helping with the embarrassment, and after a few beats, he felt like he could breathe again. Being embarrassed had sobered him a bit. “I wanted to have a fun drink, I think the bartender and I reached for the spot at the same time. It wasn’t you.” Connor felt like he needed to reassure him that it was in no way his fault. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When Dimi said he didn’t recognize him, he started laughing. “Well, I’m usually in a group, so I probably blend into the crowd.” The idea of Connor blending into a crowd was laughable at best–he was too tall for that, but he truly believed it. He was about to say something else when Dimi insisted on paying for him, and the other man was right, Connor was going to try to fight it. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ With a sigh, Connor acquiesced. “Alright, alright.” He turned to the bartender, cheeks turning pink again. “Can I, uh, get that same drink. I’d like to see what it tastes like.” While they waited for him to return, Connor finally settled again, plopping back onto the bar stool.

"Mm," Mateo considered thoughtfully, before holding up a finger, "I'll be right back." With this, the man marched out of the back room and through the shop — spared an annoyed glance towards the door's chime — and left.

It would likely become apparent that, with Mateo, minutes could be subjective. To a normal person, it meant just that— they'd be back in like, five minutes tops. But already, the carpenter had shown that promising to return could take as long as several days, in fact. Thankfully, today wouldn't be as extreme as the last time promised. Certainly longer than five minutes, though.

By the time that chime went off again, nearly a half hour had gone. Mateo rushed inside to find wherever Jinhwan was now, appearing slightly sweaty, and signs of having obviously been around plants on his clothes. Like dirt on his pants' knees, or pollen clinging to his shirt. One arm was kept behind his back.

"I had to go all the way to the park," he explained, slightly out of breath too, like he had speed-walked the entire way back. "And I don't think the gardener is very happy with me now," Mateo fretted, looking over his shoulder towards the door, as if he expected the gardener to come flying through it any second. "So, if anyone comes in here asking questions about why I was in the bushes, you can tell them it was important, okay?" Mateo used his free arm to wipe away the sweat above his brow and adjust his glasses to sit higher on his nose.

"I was going to ask you what flowers are your favorite, but then I thought, maybe that's a stupid question for a florist? Because I think you must love all the flowers, otherwise, you wouldn't be a florist? And everyone I'm sure has a favorite color, but I can't exactly help if the color isn't right, this time of year and what's available, so I didn't want to get your hopes up about the color you see, so best if I didn't ask for it."

Suddenly, he presented what was behind his back with a declaration, "I think they're daisies! Oh, except this one here in the middle, that might be a sunflower." Mateo tried to sound confident, but there were worry lines that creased his brow, and he kept looking back and forth between Jinhwan and the small bouquet of purple asters and one solitary rudbeckia in the middle.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Admittedly, when Jinhwan had told Mateo that he had free rein and that he wouldn’t peek, he hadn’t expected the other to suddenly stand up, turn, and walk straight out of the shop. The door chimed behind him, and the sound seemed to hang there for a beat too long. Jinhwan blinked, teacup halfway to his lips, and glanced over at Dori, who looked just as confused. They shared a wordless exchange–one part curiosity, one part concern.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When the door chimed again, Jinhwan looked up, teacup now in hand. Mateo stood there, a little wind-tousled and sheepish, holding something behind his back.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “You–” Jinhwan began, then stopped as Mateo explained. His eyes dropped to the flowers being offered, the mismatched stems trembling just slightly in Mateo’s grip.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He set his tea aside and approached slowly. “You went to get these?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though raising it might startle the moment.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When Mateo placed the little patchwork bouquet into his hands, Jinhwan felt his heart pick up. The flowers were simple but earnest–wild things that didn’t quite belong together, but somehow looked like they did. He turned them gently between his fingers, careful not to bruise a single petal.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “They both look to be within the daisy family, yes,” he said, smiling as he examined them more closely. He wasn't going to go off on a tangent, spouting scientific names and how they were related to daisies but not quite, not now. The purple ones caught the light, soft and vivid at once. “These here have a few meanings, but my favorite interpretation is admiration and respect. Oh! And this one–” he gestured toward the yellow bloom tucked in the middle “--this symbolizes resilience. Encouragement.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His words came out like a breath of reverence. Then, after a pause, Jinhwan lifted the bouquet to his nose, inhaling the faint, sweet scent. “I love them,” he said at last, looking up at Mateo with a smile that reached his eyes. “Thank you.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Dori made a tiny, delighted noise from behind the counter, but Jinhwan barely heard her. For a moment, it was just him and the flowers, and the quiet warmth of someone who’d thought of him.