#but i did sneak in a little moment of gender envy that dion doesn't recognize >:]]]]

[razzle-zazzle]

1654 Words; @tuxedokit's Cry Me a River AU

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!!!! 🎂🎉🎉🎉

AO3 ver

The water frothed, bubbles all fighting to rise to the surface as fast as possible.

Dion stared, careful not to stand too close, as the bubbles kept rising and eggs at the bottom of the pot failed to do anything interesting.

“Don’t stand so close to the fire, bambino.” His mother cautioned. “And put the lid back on.” She herself was busy with the watercolor set she had gotten for her last birthday, taking the free time to try and paint while the eggs boiled and the children played and her mother-in-law napped and her husband tended to the two year old. That didn’t stop her from keeping an eye on things, though, nor did it stop her from gently reprimanding her twelve-year old son when he got too close to the fire.

Dion put the lid back and stepped away, nodding his head. The image of the bubbles still lingered, small as they were between the eggs resting at the pot’s bottom. It brought to mind imaginings of bodies resting in their watery graves, deep down where nobody could see them. Dion shook his head to try and clear the thoughts, and stepped even further away from the fire and the pot and the boiling water.

His family was cursed to die in water. This was an unassailable fact. Dion had seen it, the watery hand that reached out for his siblings when they got too close—the Hand of Galochio, from the family that had cursed them. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t use water to launder their clothes, clean their bodies, or boil eggs. They just needed to be careful.

Careful most certainly didn’t include opening pots to stare at the boiling water and the eggs contained within, but Dion had been curious. He’d started helping out with the cooking, recently, though for the most part he was relegated to the easy tasks like grabbing ingredients and stirring mixes. And he did like eggs, and really wanted these eggs to be done soon so he could have one and then lord over Raz and Frazie how he got one first, because of course he would, because he was the eldest and the most dutiful child and didn’t wander off where nobody could find him to do god knew what—

But there was little to do, while eggs were boiling and lunch had passed and dinner was still a ways off. Mom was painting, Dad was busy with Mirtala in the caravan, Nona was asleep in the shadow of the tents, Frazie and Raz had wandered off on another one of their “super secret meetups, Dee, you’re not allowed,” and Dion was bored. He did a cartwheel to try and burn some of the nervous energy bubbling in his limbs, then another. And another.

The creak of the caravan door drew Dion’s attention, and he watched as his father emerged, Mirtala tucked into one arm and staring wide-eyed at the world with a toothy grin. Dion’s father pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek as a way of greeting, eyes darting down to the small canvas before her. “Beautiful as always, Дорогая.” He commented, shifting his hold on Mirtala to accommodate her squirming, his free hand drifting down to rub gently at his wife’s stomach.

Dion turned away from his mother’s flirty response with a grimace. Adults were gross. He hoped he wasn’t half as bad when he was finally grown up—something that seemed so close in his mind.

Giggling and footsteps broke Dion from his thoughts, drawing his attention to Frazie and Raz, emerging back into the camp. There were leaves and twigs in their hair, mud smeared on their knees and hands and arms. There was even some mud on Raz’ face as he grinned up at Frazie, walking along without a care in the world.

Something sharp lodged itself in Dion’s chest. He stood before them, hands on his hips in an approximation of his mother, and pitched his voice loud enough for his parents to hear. “Where were you? You can’t just wander off like that!”

Frazie kicked at the dirt nonchalantly, not phased at all by Dion’s attempts at authority. “Around.” She sniffed, as though she had better things to do than entertain her older brother. At her side, Raz nodded. “Yeah,” He squeaked, “Around.”

“Well, next time you’re around,” Their mother’s voice cut across the camp, “don’t wander so far away.” She took in the state of them, her lips pursing slightly. “Now go clean up, you’re all muddy!”

Dion smirked at Frazie, who only rolled her eyes in response. A frustration he had no name for lodged itself in his throat as his sister turned tail, her skirt flaring as she launched into a cartwheel. Something like envy crept into his brain—but for what? Dion shook his head, trying to clear the feeling. He had other things to worry about—the ringing of Mirtala’s bell as she was set down on the ground was the only warning Dion got before he was tackled from behind by his baby sister. Dion yelped as he fell to the ground, and he shoved his cackling sister away while scooting backwards.

It pressed against Dion’s chest, begging to be let out. He hissed, crossing his arms as though the motion might keep it contained. He swallowed, trying to will the feeling away, to keep himself together. Mirtala lunged forwards, shouting an approximation of his name while reaching out with chubby toddler hands, and Dion’s chest surged and sloshed in response.

Dion shouted, grabbing Mirtala under her arms and lifting her in the air. She laughed, and Dion set her back down, his chest still pounding. That was close. Really close. But he held together, and he could feel the waves receding, ebbing away as his chest loosened.

His mother scooped Mirtala up, eyes alight with amusement. “Let’s not terrorize your big brother, okay topolina?” She turned her attention to Dion, and he did his best to look cool and unaffected. This wasn’t the first time his baby sister had tackled him to the floor—though he really hoped it’d be the last. Still, his mother tsked and leaned in, licking her thumb to rub dirt off of Dion’s cheek.

“Mooooom,” Dion whined, making a face. His mother just chuckled, before turning and setting Mirtala down, softly directing her daughter’s attention to Dion’s father, who was busy appreciating the half-finished painting. Mirtala giggled, before running off with all the speed she could muster. That handled, Dion’s mother turned her attention back to Dion.

“You should go find your siblings, bambino.” She suggested. “We need to get everyone ready for afternoon practice.”

Dion nodded. “Yeah!” He turned to the tents lining their camp, walking off to go do just that, ignoring the soft waves in his chest. His whole family was careful around water, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any on hand. Water was needed for a lot of things, like clothes and hands and eggs. Still, Dion found his steps slowing as he approached where his siblings were washing off the mud by a low basin, talking in hushed tones. They didn’t notice his approach, so Dion slowed his steps and strained to try and make out what they were saying.

“...lucky it was just mud.” Frazie murmured. “And stop knocking me over when I’m rolling around!”

“It was just a puddle.” Raz huffed. “Balance better next time.”

Frazie poked Raz right in the middle of his forehead. “Don’t tell me what to do, Poots.” She frowned, reached a hand out, and lifted a loose leaf right into Raz’ face. Except she never touched the leaf—

Dion took a step back. He… he’d caught Raz doing this stuff, a few weeks back, but Frazie—

The Aquatos were cursed to die in water. This was a fact. But they had been cursed by fortune tellers, who moved things with their minds just like Frazie did—but they’d promised to stop—

The pressure in Dion’s chest returned anew. It sloshed around like so many storm-swept waves, the push and pull of it slow and steady and threatening to tear Dion apart. Bubbles fought their way out from his center to his skin, and his whole body seemed to shake. He trembled, stumbling backwards a step—

The world exploded into nothingness with the sound of water rushing through his ears. He tumbled, spinning endlessly as he fell, until he finally felt a shuddering vibration as the ground rose to meet him. He shuddered, ripples chasing across the dirt, pushing in every direction in an attempt to be anywhere but here. Fear hammered in a chest that didn’t exist, and he seized up entirely.

No no no not again I tried so hard—

He needed to focus. He needed to relax. But how could he do either, when he could feel the very beginning of a familiar tugging? When that distant feeling he had recognized since he was ten was back and trying to coax him into the shape his family feared the most? But he had to focus, he had to relax and calm if he wanted to pull away from the tugging of a family curse and return to himself—

Dion gasped as he pulled together, the dirt cold under his hands and knees. He stared at it, at dry dirt that only moments before was horribly muddy because of him—

Dion’s nails dug into the dirt as he breathed, frustration pricking the corners of his eyes and tightening his throat. Stupid, stupid! He wasn’t supposed to let it spill out, he had to be better, solid, what if someone saw—

“Dee?”

Dion's head snapped up. Frazie and Raz were staring at him with wide eyes, Frazie's arms wrapped around Raz protectively. Oh no. Oh no. They—they had to have seen—but surely they hadn't—but what if—"Dee," Frazie stepped back, "What did you do?"