#i think it‘s clear who is moon and who is sun

[orange-artblog]

The Moon Will Sing

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2023

Day 08 - Shed

The sun had long vanished beneath the horizon as A'viloh sneaked out of the house trying his best to not wake anyone. It was a clear night and the dark blue sky was filled with millions of stars shining in all kinds of colors. In A'viloh’s opinion this view never got boring, he could marvel at it for the rest of his life and wonder if somewhere up there someone else saw a similar sky and did the same.

Quietly he crossed the Aetheryte square, staying in the shadows as best as he could, alway keeping an eye out for people who could see him. He wasn’t sure if it was really necessary to be this careful but better safe than sorry.

U'laqa had asked to meet him at midnight by the wooden shed at the springs. This had been earlier that day after their archery training session. While everybody else went to retrieve their arrows U'laqa had casually stepped beside him and whispered in his ear. Before A'viloh could reply anything U'laqa had already run after the other boys, not that he would have replied anything dumbfounded as he was.

All afternoon he had been torn between worry and excitement about this secret meeting. A few weeks had passed since Dalamud’s fall and the world hadn’t come to an end after all. That night as the dust started to settle and worried voices called out for them, they had embarrassedly untangled from their embrace and pretended nothing had happened. The oasis had remained relatively unharmed by the catastrophe and so all things had quickly returned back to normal. A'viloh had already began to worry that things between U'laqa and him had also returned to normal. He feared that what U'laqa had said to him that night as the two of them watched in terror as the red moon fell out of the sky had long been forgotten.

Now, as he stepped towards the springs, all he felt was nervousness. A tiny fire burnt in one of the braziers but there was no one to be seen. He looked around, but found nothing. Carefully he peaked into the shed, nothing either. Then suddenly something gripped his shoulders from behind and snarled. He shrieked and spun around only to realise that it wasn’t a monster that attacked him but just U'laqa who had pranked him.

As the other Miqo'te heard A'viloh surprised scream he quickly pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for him to be quiet.

"Shhh! They’re going to hear you.", he whispered and because A'viloh stared at him like he just had a heart attack he added: "I’m sorry A'vi, it was just too tempting. By Azeyma! You should have seen your face!" Then he started to laugh heartily.

A'viloh grimaced. "Haha, very funny… So you called me here to scare me to death, is that it?"

"Maybe!", Laqa answered with a cheeky glint in his golden eyes and that kind of wide amiable smile on his face that never failed to make A'viloh speechless.

Silence settled between them and for a few moments neither really knew what to say. Then U'laqa nervously ran his fingers through his bright blonde hair and his face became more serious than usual.

"No… actually I wanted to to talk to you, about… you know, what I said when Dalamud fell…"

A'viloh made an anxious face. So it was indeed how he feared. All of this had been a misunderstanding and now U'laqa wanted to take back what he said.

"I see…", he muttered disheartening.

"What’s with that gloomy face now?", he asked obliviously.

A'viloh forced a weak smile onto his face. "I understand. I know it was a weird situation, end of the world and everything. It‘s alright if you changed your mind. I really shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up…"

"What?!", the other Miqo'te exclaimed. "You thought I didn’t mean it?!"

A'viloh couldn’t believe what he heard.

"You didn’t? No, I mean: You did?"

U'laqa sighed and slowly shook his head, smiling in a way that made A'viloh think he was making fun of him. "Oh, you silly, adorable idiot…"

A'viloh still struggled to understand and just stared at the other boy in confusion.

Finally U'laqa grasped his hands and said: "I meant every word, every single one. I love you, A'vi. I loved you since the day we met."

"You do??"

U'laqa chuckled at his puzzled expression.

„I do.“

Still A'viloh couldn’t quite believe it and wondered if this was just a dream he would wake up from every second now.

After a moment U'laqa raised an eyebrow and quizzically tilted his head. "Please don‘t tell me now that you don’t like me back…"

"No!", A'viloh exclaimed. "I do too!"

When he realised what he just said his face went hot and he quickly looked down in embarrassment. Very quietly he added: "I like you very much. For a long while now actually but I never thought…"

"Shhh…", U'laqa said quietly and A'viloh instantly fell silent, as the blonde boy cupped his face in his hands and made him meet his gaze.

Then he slowly leaned down and kissed him.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Baby Moon

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2959

———————

The queens first found her outside in their backyard seven months after their reincarnation. It was the middle of the night, they were watching a movie, and the full moon was out, bathing the city in hues of sterling and glimmering grey. And there, in their backyard, stood a naked girl with her head towards the glittering black sky.

She was paler than any person they’ve ever seen, as if the moonbeams had zapped all the color out of her skin and then bleached her with its own light. Her hair was the color of washed out gold, with only a few brown roots weakly reaching out from her scalp. If you were to cut open her wrists, they were sure her blood would come out silver.

The queens watched her from the windows and back door for a long time. They theorized that this girl was another reincarnate, but they had all been clothed when they came back, along with the ladies in waiting. Plus, it had been raining and day time. The night was clear with not a single cloud in sight.

Where had she come from? Who was she? What did she want?

So many questions ran through their mind, but only one thing kept blaring in Kitty’s over and over and over again.

Monster.

The girl outside doesn’t move. She just stays very still and keeps her head angled up to the moon. Rays of light were cascading down her back and rear and legs like a silver and white waterfall, painting her entire bare body with the essence of the night.

“Should we call the police?” Cathy asked nervously. Her hands were winding in the hem of her shirt like they did when she was worrying over something.

“She is trespassing,” Cleves agreed.

“No, wait,” Aragon said. “She isn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Aside from being naked on our property,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“I’ll go see what she wants.” Aragon said.

The others protested, but she assured them everything would be fine. However, she still brought a kitchen knife outside with her just to make them feel a little better.

Slowly, so slowly, Aragon crept up to the stranger. When she got closer, she could see the moonlight dripping into her skin, sinking into her back, melting into her chest. The others might not have known yet, but Aragon knew just looking at this girl—she was moonborn, called out only by the power of the moon.

That word, moonborn, made no sense to Aragon at the time. She had never heard of such a thing before and it sounded like a silly title pulled right out of a children’s tale, but something in her head told her it was important. It was important, but it would soon become the cause of great pain nobody would ever be able to fathom.

Aragon took another step forward and gently touched the girl’s shoulder; her skin was as cold as ice.

“Hello?” She called out. “Who are you?”

The girl shuddered under her hand. She turned around very slowly and Aragon gasped at the silver moons that blinked back at her.

———

The moon child asks to be called “Joan.”

It is difficult to communicate this at first, but then Aragon allows her to write it. Even when the color she chooses is bright chartreuse rather than the standard black, she doesn’t stop her. She’s been allowing her much recently.

———

Music is not a foreign thing to the moon child, although she was always lost in a tangle of thoughts and objectives. It‘s easy for chattering and scratching and flipping of parchment to drown out a melody, but it‘s easier for a weary body to absorb it.

It’s not the moon. It does not heal; it doesn’t even provide the respite that a bed does. But it is soothing, and it makes a rumble of something warm rise in her chest.

(She likes to rumble and trill and coo along to music, not really singing, not really vocalizing, but just following with soft noises of her own.

Kitty called it “alien speak.”

She stopped soon after that.)

For that, it is enough. Joan bows her head in gratitude after every rehearsal, thanking whoever was singing for the moment of peace. Sometimes she says it out loud, in her weak, creaky lunar voice. Other times she just smiles gratefully.

Aragon and Anne don’t seem to mind her silence. The moon child thinks they might even like her, just as she likes them and their songs. Even when the dark matter of Joan’s being weeps through the cuts in her skin and her bow is more akin to a slump, they still sing to her, even though she cannot answer their concerned glances.

But Kitty and Jane think she’s broken.

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Jane would ask, pleasantly pretending like she wasn’t in earshot. “We all spoke pretty easily after reincarnation. It’s been a month and she’s spoken, what ten words? But for some reason, she can learn several songs on a piano easier instead?”

“I don’t think we left her out in the moonlight for long enough,” Kitty would titter, and she would know that Joan was nearby. That’s why she said those things—to make her feel bad. “Or maybe aliens aren’t just suited for life on earth.”

Joan starts talking more, after that. She says things like a normal person and not a reincarnated lady in waiting from five hundred years ago that was strangely born from the moon. She acts normal, acts how she should, and acts the way people want her to be.

———

The moon child understands how goodbyes feel now, even if she’s not accompanied by a headless corpse or a weeping mother that’s foaming at the mouth.

Beyond that, she understands what it means to be taken by something, be it sickness, or power, or fear. Or grief. That one, too, will make you its own. That one especially.

Is her entire being not proof of that?

In the end, it is not just the river’s waters lapping at lonely London shores, having foreshadowed this weight. It is not just the mist of essence fading in the place of a friend. It is not just her mother and father, warping and vanishing in a strange, confusing dance. Not just her queen that bore a gown as silver as her eyes, resisting in the face of her own realization that the lunar being belonged to her more than the hot pink fiend. Not just the moons that gave her life.

It is so much more.

It is everything she cannot have and everything she does not want to do. It is frustration and selfishness and bitterness. It is want.

The moon child wants so badly. She wanted for her brother, and so she took what she could of what he gave, and built herself a name out of a throwaway title. She wants so badly for more of him, even if it means fighting. She wants back the little moments of closeness with anyone at all, moments she hadn’t thought to hold onto back when she was still under the illusion that she could keep them, keeping getting more of them.

How easy would it be, to solve things without just the cry of a voice if she hadn’t been destined to be silent and unloved?

How much easier, to bring life to fading hope and provide friendship for others? For herself?

She wants painfully for the small things like the shinier markers at the store, like the odd affectionate touches John used to give the top of her head. Like Aragon’s humming or Anne’s hugs or Jane’s forehead kisses or being one of the players in the theater games Cleves will start up or someone that inspires Cathy to create a character after her in one of her books. She even wants to get one of Kitty’s weird head bumps just to know she was important enough to receive one. She wants to hang out with Anne and Aragon more often because they tell stories and she likes that, and she wants the other ladies to accept her as one of them and not shun her as a creature of night that just so happens to know how to play piano.

But just as with the rising of the sun, none of this want means anything at all.

———

This much is clear: the moon child is a being of wanting. And she is regret, too, born of night and darkness, tucked and shaped into a frame too small to hold all this need. It is no surprise when the hairline fractures grow into cracks, nor when the cracks widen into gaping holes where the flesh has begun to collapse.

Joan is collapsing.

———

It gets easier to speak and act like everyone else as the days go by, but the jealousy and longing grows with it. She’s talking normally, but she’s envious all the time. She laughs and smiles and does everything as she should, but she’s always itching for affection.

The moon child begins to do things. Not bad things, just—things. Painting, for one. She thinks that if she makes presents for people then they’ll start to like her more, and it works for awhile, but then everyone just gets used to her offerings. Nobody hangs them up, unlike the art of fans, which get to be put up regally on bulletin boards and the sides of mirrors and on tables. Jane and Cathy even had their Instagram profile pictures as drawings some fans made for them.

But all of Joan’s paintings and sketches and colorings were pushed aside, tucked away inside drawers and crumpled up in purses to rot away into nothingness.

Nothing. That’s all they’ll ever be. And it’s all she’ll even be, too.

———

A bassist was sitting by one of the windows, staring dejectedly at the rain droplets pattering on the glass. The moon child notices when she’s making copies of some sheet music. When the bassist notices the moon eyes drilling into her, she turns away from them.

“Go away, Joan. Allow me to wallow in my own misery in peace.” She mutters harshly.

Joan would have left, if it weren’t for a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her to stay. She stands right where she was. Bessie raises her head.

“What are you doing? Leave. Go away. I have nothing for you. Go back to your music director business or whatever. Chase after Jane for the hundredth time for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

There was another job to be done, but Joan wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Bessie just repeated for her to leave the longer she stood. Again. Again and again and again. When the moon eyes refused to move, the bassist’s voice got increasingly more frustrated.

“Do I have to escort you out myself?” She hisses, standing and glaring deep into those pools of liquid silver.

Joan shook her head.

“Then what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t know.

“Let me be depressed in peace!”

Still there.

“Do you not understand what I’m saying?” Bessie opens her hands like they were claws.

Joan still stares at her.

“I am not going to fight you, if that is what you are looking for. This is hardly an appropriate place.”

Joan wasn’t looking for a fight. No, there is something else.

“If you are looking to gloat, just get it over with already!”

She isn’t there to gloat.

Even when Bessie drew her arm back, she still did not leave.

“Why are you still here?! It’s not like you care!” Bessie yells, flinging something nearby—a picture frame. It barely brushes Joan’s arm, and explodes into a cloud of glass against the wall.

Bessie was prone to aggressiveness and anger, but she would never attack so sloppily and so carelessly.

She wasn’t herself.

“Get…get out of here…”

Bessie’s voice cracks, crumpling to her knees. She hunches over on herself taking in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders began trembling as her entire frame was wracked with irregular shaking. High-pitched sobs emanate from her.

She wasn’t okay.

Joan took a small step forward. She wasn’t like Bessie, but maybe she could be like her for a little bit. There was quite a noticeable size difference between the two, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

Joan kneels behind her, wrapping her arms around the bassist. She felt Bessie freeze up, breath hitching for a second. She squeezes a little, rests her chin on the older musician’s shoulder, and closes her glittering eyes.

A hug. Would that make her happier?

The sobs became quieter. Joan remains crouched and hugs her, letting her grieve. She wants to say something, anything that might bring her more comfort, but the most she could do is hug her a little more and hope that it brought her some happiness like it did long ago.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally stops, slowly pulling back.

“Joan…?”

Joan responds in that silent way of hers, tipping her head in a form of recognition.

“Why did you do that…?”

“Affection makes people happier.” Joan verbally answers. She wants to ask if she was happier.

“You know...people—Jane and Kitty— said you’re just an empty monster...you’re supposed to leave. You’re not supposed to care.” Bessie mumbles, head hanging down. “You’re not supposed to care about anyone…so why did you stay? Why did you hug me? Why me? Why? I just-“

A tear was dripping down her left cheek, almost as silver as those moon eyes staring down at her with so much concern and longing. She rears back when Joan tries to touch her again.

“You’re not a monster, are you…?” Bessie whispers. Joan stares back in silence. “You’re not a monster at all. You’re none of those things. You’re...you’re good.”

———

“I know you're angry-” Jane was saying to the creature of night after yet another painful rejection. “But with how you were created-”

“Born.” The moon eyes burn. “I was born. And I've committed no crime by existing.”

———

Anne watches the moon child sitting at her side. She had come over to the queen’s house for a reason she couldn’t quite remember, but was now stuck inside due to a raging blizzard. She sat on the couch in the living room, on the opposite end of Anne, like she was afraid her presence would taint the queen with an infectious black matter.

What did she want?

The moon child brought her legs up and folded them against her chest slowly, as if through water, her joints stiff.

“It’d be better if I weren’t here.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

That made Anne blink. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.” She brought her face close to her knees, letting her too light hair fall over her too shiny eyes.

Stop doing that. Stop reaching out and then pulling away. Can’t you see I’ll do anything you want, if you’d just tell me what that is? What do you want?

Anne lifts her head a few inches, stretching out the sore spots in her neck.

“Joan, come here.”

Joan remained curled into herself.

“I will not ask again.”

That seemed to work better. Joan shifts sideways, drawing closer to her former queen. Her shoulders jolted a little as Anne wrapped an arm around them, pulling the two against each other. And then, she was tugging the awkwardly scrawny and small moon child into her lap.

(Where she belonged.)

“I will protect you,” She chose her words carefully. “To the best of my ability.”

That didn’t seem like a good place to leave off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I can’t be everything you want,” She continued, softer. “I can’t be Jane. But I’m here. And I want to take care of you, darling.”

She watched Joan’s head on her chest rise and fall with her breaths. A few beats pass before a small hiccup sounded from the lunar girl.

There were a few more hiccups that built up before they erupted into sobs, Joan’s shoulders heaving as they wracked through her. Loud whimpers and whines filled the air as Anne ran her fingers through the thick blonde tangles, rocking the poor, lonely moon child in her arms.

Joan cries steadily, head buried in her chest. Anne realizes that she didn’t even mind that a mess was being made down the front of her shirt.

Eventually the cries settle down, mixing together with the dull white noise of the television before fading off. Joan calms in her arms, snuggled up nicely, and it only gets better when Aragon joins their cuddle on the couch. Both queens hold the moon child, not caring about what anyone had ever said about her being wrong or weird or messed up compared to the other reincarnates. To them, she was perfect.

Their love filled Joan like the moonlight did. She had never felt anything so wonderful. She fit perfectly in their arms, like she had always belonged there.

And then, there was the gawker by the staircase. Joan could feel Kitty’s congealing resentment even from a distance. She could also feel Aragon and Anne’s love again, already half detached from everyone else, including the youngest of the bunch—Anne’s baby cousin. But Anne was just ready to give all her love to the moonborn pianist, not a distant family member born of daytime and rain.

Sorry, Katherine, Joan thought, settling back into the warmth and affection. Out there is my moon. And these are my mothers. And you will never be a part of that world.

[hellfirenacht]

Can’t Be Unseen Chapter 5

Sal Fisher x Reader

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

Chapter Summary:  You have a DREAM and think back on MEMORIES.

Larry didn’t stay long that night, at least no more than two hours. It was getting late, past midnight, and though he didn’t have an official curfew, he didn’t want to make his mom too worried or suspicious. He put his long-since cast off shirt back on and gave you a hug and a kiss on the forehead before he headed to the basement floor.

You closed the door behind you and made your way back to your room. As you changed into your pjs you noticed a small mark on your collarbone, and felt very thankful that it was sweater season. You didn’t really want to worry about covering hickeys with make-up come Sunday when your parents came home. You’d already had the talk way too many times with your parents. As lucky as you were that they were more than willing to tell you where they kept condoms in the apartment, you really weren’t feeling that right now.

Sleep came easily to you that night, without thoughts of overthinking for once. Though it was mostly because you were so tired from everything that happened that day. Within minutes of laying down you were passed out.

It‘s almost time for school, the late autumn sun threatens to set and yet you worry about being late. You are in the school hall, your class is towards the gym but each turn of the corner puts you between your old elementary school and your current high school. But that’s normal, right? Yes, this is what “school” is.

Travis is in the library giving you a dirty look from behind the help desk. He calls you a dirty harlot for kissing Larry. You aren’t allowed to use the computers anymore.

Class has started and you’re late. You wonder if it’s even worth going to class since you can’t open your locker and you’re late. Oh, you aren’t supposed to be here. This is your old elementary school anyway. It would be best if you left.

You exit the building; something feels off. You are outside of your high school and your childhood neighborhood is right across the street despite it being a few states away.

There’s someone next to you. You tell them you think you’re dreaming as if you are commenting on the weather.

“Oh, that’s cool.” they seem to agree. You ask them what you think you should do if this really is just a dream.

“You should probably leave. It’s not really interesting here.”

School is a dull place for a semi-lucid dream, you decide walking back into the building. If this is a dream, then you might as well find some company.

You walk into the first classroom you see. Larry is sitting on his desk and you tell him that this is a dream and that he should explore with you. He responds by standing up and throwing his backpack across the room before jumping down and following you out.

He asks if you usually know if you’re dreaming and in kind you explain this has only happened a handful of times. You’re outside on the sidewalk, he tells you to try and fly.

You doggy paddle in the air at best for a few seconds before landing on your feet. You know you can’t actually fly and that ruins your dream logic. Larry is still impressed that you did as much.

It’s nighttime and the street lamps are lit. The moon is full and close, way too close. The craters of the moon are more prominent than you’ve ever seen and you feel uneasy. You tell Larry you don’t like the moon.

He makes a big leap over your head, landing easily as though for a moment gravity didn’t bind him. He lands in front of you and you keep walking. It’s Halloween and pumpkins are everywhere. One is carved to look like Sal’s mask.

Larry asks if this is your dream then where is Sal? You aren’t sure. It’s honestly pretty rare that people you know play a big role in your dream. You simply shrug your shoulders and Sal appears in the distance before walking into the shadows of the woods. You cry out for him but he’s gone and you go after him.

Larry has disappeared and you run through the trail and find yourself at the edge of a lake. Sal stands at the edge next to a doc and you approach him.

He asks you, if he’s Jason-chic does that mean he should jump in the lake and scare children? You deny his request, noting that the stuffed animal you won him so many months ago (which he isn’t even holding) would be ruined. You tell him you’re dreaming and he nods, unphased.

He says that even if it is a dream he’s real and you agree. Of course he’s real, and you’re sure that when you wake up that both of your friends will remember this adventure. It is science and a fact.

You feel Larrys’ arms around your waist and you look at Sal who’s still staring out into the lake. This is normal, right? You close your eyes and someone kisses you and you kiss back. Larrys’ nose pressed into your cheek. The lips on yours turn hard and unmoving like plastic. Sal’s hands were so nice and cool. No, wait Larrys’ hands were warm. No-

You open your eyes and gasp in horror taking a step back. Sals’ mask is gone and his face is distorted, glitching, loud, static-

Larry asks if you’re really going to look at his best friend like that. You can barely hear what he’s saying over the static. Sal says’ something but his voice is distorted. Sal reaches a hand out but you push it away as the world around you starts to pulse. You don’t deserve Sal You don’t deserve Larry You don’t deserve You don’t deserve You don’t deserve you don’t deserve-

The world was quiet as you woke up, the distorted sounds of the dream halting in an instant. Outside the sun was just starting to rise but still you found yourself unable to move from the nightmare. You took a few slow breaths and began to relax back into your bed, reassuring yourself that it was only a dream.

You don’t deserve-

No, you weren’t going to think about it. You were not going to let some stupid dream tell you what you did or didn’t deserve.

Sal deserves better. You claim to like him yet kiss his best friend.

‘Shut up.’ you think to yourself. ‘I’m allowed to move on!’

You spent the next hour trying to get back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning instead until you gave up and made your way to the living room. You laid down on the couch and turned on the tv in the hopes that some cartoons would help you turn off your mind.

The couch still smells like Larry.

It took you three minutes to find some air conditioner to make the couch smell like gingerbread. That turned out to be a small mistake when the scent was too overpowering. Giving up on laying around you started putting away all the decorations that you had brought over from the previous night and having some breakfast.

By this point it was 9 am, and you dared to glance at your phone for the first time since you woke up. You didn’t know if you were hoping that Larry would text you or not.

There were no direct messages, but there were a few in the group chat.

ToddFace: Thanks for inviting us to the party, Sal!

SallyFace: glad you and neil could make it!

AshleyFace: Jamie had fun too. Shes looking forward to seeing you all again

SallyFace: lol glad we didn’t scare anyones date off

Had anything with Larry not happened last night, you would have thrown in a “Sal you could never scare me off ;)” but instead you closed the chat. No reason to make things harder on yourself than it already was.

So many times you found yourself staring at individual conversations with your friends. So many times you considered reaching out to talk but you faltered each time. It had never been hard for you to reach out to a friend before this whole mess with Sal and Larry so why was it hard now? You used to pride yourself on letting your friends know when you were hurt or confused or just needed to vent but it felt impossible right now.

The rest of the day went by with nothing to report. There was some scattered small talk in the group about holiday plans, Christmas lists, inside jokes, and questioning about what would be the best way to sneak snacks into a movie theater with increasingly weird food. All good distractions until you found yourself sucked into a computer game that lasted you until bed.

...

Sunday came with your parents waking you up with bright and happy smiles on their faces telling you to get packed because you were all going to the old lake house!

A feeling of excitement and unease spread over you. On one hand, you loved going to that lake house with your parents. After spending so much time moving around as a kid and teen, that lake house was the one consistent place you could go that would be unchanged.

On the other, there was no wifi in the house and even with unlimited data, the signal was spotty at best and non-existent at worst. You’d be cut off from your friends for the next two weeks. It would be after Christmas that you’d see them again. You wouldn’t even really get a chance to say goodbye to them either.

But this is what you wanted, right? A chance to get away from everything to really think things out. You pulled your suitcase and started shoving clothes haphazardly into it. Not like you really needed to dress nice to be around your parents. It’d be two weeks of board games, decorating yet ANOTHER tree, carols, eggnog, and every other cheesy Christmas cliche your parents could think of.

Still though, you grabbed your laptop and charger. When your parents were making kissy faces at each other, this could be a good time to catch up on all those games you’d been meaning to play. Maybe even watch some movies or-

Your phone dinged twice, alerting you to two messages from Sal and Larry and your heart jumped slightly. No, you needed to calm down. It was just the group chat and they’re just shit posting.

It was not the group that.

LarryFace: hey I got some free time today, wanna hang?

SallyFace: So it’s been a while since we’ve got to see each other one on one. Are you busy today?

You could almost laugh at how absurd this whole had become. Why is it that every time you wanted to clear your head, these two managed to have the worst possible timing. It was almost a blessing that your parents came home just to whisk you off on a four hour drive to the middle of nowhere.

You responded to Larry first.

BlankFace: Hey sorry I can’t. My parents are actually taking me to the lake house for a few weeks

LarryFace: oh that’s a bummer. Any idea when youll be back?

BlankFace: Not til after Christmas, looks like.

LarryFace: wanna hang out when you get back?

BlankFace: It’s a date-

You delete the last message, changing your mind.

BlankFace: Sounds like a plan!

Your direct your attention to Sal’s message, hesitating on how you want to approach it. He hadn’t asked to hang out one on one since you two talked things out. There was a slight pang in your chest that you wished so badly would go away. What was it about Sal that was so hard to get over? He wasn’t your first crush, or even the first guy to turn you down.

BlankFace: I’m really sorry, I wish I could but my parents are taking me on vacation for the next few weeks and I’ll be out of town til after Christmas.

SallyFace: They’re taking you today?

BlankFace: Yeah, you know how they are. Overly spontaneous during the holidays. I’m packing now.

SallyFace: Do you want any help?

You typed and deleted the word yes. There was an insistent thumping in your chest, telling you to say yes but you pushed it back. If you saw him right now, after making up with him and making out with Larry, you were sure that you’d end up saying or doing something you shouldn’t.

BlankFace: I’m almost done, thanks though!

You grabbed your backpack and dumped it on the floor before shoving your toiletries in it. Then you reached under your bed and grabbed a shoe box and fitting it into your bag. You flipped through the binder that was in your backpack and pulled out some of its contents, shoving them into a side pocket.

SallyFace: When are you leaving?

“Are you done packing? You’re mother and I are ready to go when you are!” you dad called from the living room.

“Almost done! Give me two seconds!” you replied, shoving your chargers into your backpack, and grabbing your headphones.

BlankFace: Now.

Within moments you were in the backseat of the car as it pulled out of Addison’s designated parking lot. Your headphones were in, but before your music kicked on, you swore you heard something.

Turning behind you, Sal was running after the car before he seemed to run out of breath and wave at you. You waved back, watching his figure grow smaller in the distance. A few months ago he had been a few inches shorter than you, but looking at him now, had he grown a bit? What had you really missed out on in those embarrassing months after the failed date?

‘He came to say goodbye.’ you thought to yourself as his figure disappeared. ‘He came to say goodbye and I snubbed him because I’m still a coward.’

The early morning was a good excuse to lean against the cool window and pretend to sleep. You covered yourself up with the blanket that your parents kept in the car during the cold months and allowed a few tears to escape your eyes.

When did you become someone who couldn’t face their own feelings? A few months ago you had always been so honest with everyone about everything for the most part. Or maybe, that was a lie. Did all that flirting with Sal really count as the truth? Thinking back, you never did have a chance to really say how you felt about him, even as a friend.

Guess you weren’t as mature as you thought. Maybe you just always hid the big truths with smaller, flashier truths.

SallyFace: see u when u get back. I’ll miss u.

‘I already miss you.’

...

It was late afternoon when your parents pulled into the driveway of the small lake house. You’d lost signal a while ago but you’d had it long enough to tell the group chat that you were gone for a bit and that you’d miss out on the next few weeks. Ashley promised to send memes by snail mail, and Todd said to have fun.

The lack of electronic entertainment wasn’t a big deal for the next few hours as you and your parents set up decorations and going out to chop down the tree with your dad.

“So, why did we decorate the apartment as much as we did when we were gonna have Christmas here?” you asked as you untangled string lights.

“Because the holidays should be celebrated in different ways!” said your dad, wrestling with getting the tree to stand straight. “At home we can have a flashy Christmas but here we can be away from it all and just enjoy the simple things!”

You weren’t sure if that was a real answer, but you had no reason to say no to it.

“Tomorrow I think we’ll turn on the fireplace.” mused your mom. “Yes, and we can roast chestnuts and marshmallows. And maybe if you’re good, Santa will come and leave an early gift!”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Though your parents had given you the “Santa isn’t real” talk many years ago, they still liked to believe in the spirit of the holiday to the fullest. You wondered what was it about your parents' relationship that made everything so happy? Normally, you ignored it whenever they started going on and on about how in love they were but after what happened with Sal and Larry, you couldn’t help but wonder; what’s it mean to be in such a loving relationship?

That night after dinner, you decided to ask them. The three of you sat around playing a card game, when you finally managed to spit it out.

“Mom, dad?” you started. “How did you two first know that you wanted to date each other?”

Your dad looked a little surprised. “Well, it all started on the first weekend of December a little over twenty years ago- I saw your mom standing in the park and-”

“‘-Said to yourself “that’s the woman I’m going to marry’. Then you took a chance and asked her on a date and you both went dancing a five star hotel and proposed that very night.” you finished. “I know that, you’ve told me the story a million times but... what really happened?”

He smiled at you. “I guess you are a little too old for fairy tales aren’tcha, kid?” you nodded.

“I was lost.” your mother explained. “It was cold and it was miserable and it was raining- not snowing. I was supposed to check into a hotel for a business meeting that evening but I couldn’t figure out where it was, when your father approached me.”

He took her hand. “She looked like she was having a rough day, so I offered to walk her where she needed to be. Turns out It was at the hotel I was working for at the time.”

“I had graduated college a year before, and your father was working his way through trade school.” your mom added.

“Even half drenched and frazzled, I still thought you were beautiful.”

“I thought you were cute enough for a bellhop.” they both laughed.

“I did ask her out though, the next day. I was clocking out and she was about to leave and-”

“I asked you out, dear.” your mother gently corrected. “I asked if you wanted to grab coffee.”

“And your mother, the charmer, asked me out. She swept me off my feet and was enchanting and funny and wonderful and-”

“Dad. Please.”

“Right, sorry. She was just really something special. Still is, of course! But our first date was us sitting in a hole-in-the-wall cafe, decorated for Christmas with the snow falling outside.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So how did you know that you wanted to see each other?” you asked. “How did you know it was going to last?”

“We didn’t.” your mother explained, honestly. “We saw each other once, and then wanted to see each other again, and we kept up that pattern until we realized that we always wanted to see each other.”

“Is that what love is?” you asked quietly.

“It’s what it means to us.” your father said, looking your mom and for a moment you didn’t see your parents. You saw two people twenty years younger and madly in love.

“I think I like that story better than the fairy tale.” you admit.

“I wouldn’t trade our story for anything in the world.” your dad said. “Now, does this sudden interest in asking about dating and love have anything to do with... anything?”

“I like Sal.” you admitted finally.

“A fine young man! Very polite though I do wish he’d let us take a peak under that mask.”  Your dad said, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s a prosthetic, dear. He needs it.” your mom chided gently.

“Sal doesn’t like me.” you added.

“Now I can hurt him for you, though it would be a long drive back.”

“Dad no.”

The floodgates opened at that moment, and you told them everything. About how long you’ve had feelings for him, the date, his face (dad tried to press for details about what you saw, but your mom shushed him), and finally about Larry kissing you. You fudged some details about how much kissing went down, saying it was just a goodnight kiss rather than how far it went.

“I just don’t know what to do.” you said. “I’m so confused and I don’t know how I feel about either of them anymore. I don’t understand how this can be so easy for some people.”

“You’re father and I did get lucky, but that doesn’t mean we both didn’t have our share of past relationships that weren’t messy and confusing.” your mother said, handing you a mug of hot chocolate.

“Lord knows I messed up plenty of good relationships before I met your mother. The main thing you need to do to have any relationship work is to build a strong foundation of trust and communication.”

“If you feel like you don’t know what to say, maybe write them each a letter explaining how you feel.” your mom suggested. “You always did like to pass notes in class.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little. “That’s not a bad idea.” you admitted. “Maybe I will.”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Your father said. “But if you’re going to be kissing anymore boys- now I do know that I want grandkids or at least grand puppies someday- but you know the condoms are in the-”

“WELL GOODNIGHT MOM AND DAD, GREAT TALK. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.” you suddenly stood up and rushed into your room. As gross as your dad could be, the talk had made you feel better, just a little.

You sat at the small desk in the corner and turned on the lamp. Reaching into your backpack you pulled out the shoe box that you had crammed in there and opened it. Your mom was right, you did love to pass notes in school. You loved it so much that you tried your best to keep every single one that had been passed between you and your friends, carefully dated, folded, and set in this very shoe box for safe keeping.

In this box was every memory you had since moving to Addison Apartments; notes between you and Ashley in art, scribbles and doodles from Larry, old tests that Todd helped you study for with encouraging comments in the margins, and misheard lyrics from Sal.

Sal and Larry had been fighting over lyrics to a metal song they had been listening to, each hearing different words through the fried vocals of the lead singer. It had become a game that they’d pass the headphones around to everyone at the table to try and decipher what was being sung. Each time, Todd would look up the song online and announce who had come the closest. Usually everyone was wrong.

There were even a few pictures in the box from Ashley’s old Polaroid; everyone wearing their hair (as best they could) in pigtails on April Fool’s day, Larry and Sal at Homecoming with Sal wearing a stunning yellow dress, all of the boys on top of each other in a dog pile, Maple painting Ashley’s nails, and one of you and Sal.

This was one you hadn’t even shown Sal. In the photo, he was playing a game on his Gear Boy and was attempting to explain how to get through the level. In that moment though, you weren’t looking at the screen, you were looking at him. Ashley had managed to capture you looking so softly at him that you had to make sure that he never ever saw it until you were married with children or puppies.

You never did beat that level.

Looking through all of this, you grabbed a few sheets of paper and started writing.

Sal Fisher, today is the day that I’m going to tell you everything and then I’ll be able to move on.

Next Chapter

[emdop]

Wise Men Say Only Fools Rush In

Remus Lupin flicks through The Daily Prophet, pretending to read the words while mentally reviewing the possible exits out of the Crooked House Café. The quiet hum of people and steaming milk usually soothe his soul, but today his heart rate speeds and Moony’s voice rattles louder. All these people make too much noise. You know what to do.            

Remus shoves the paper aside, gripping the table while he concentrates on slowing his heart rate. He listens to white noise, cataloging to Moony their origins and their threat-levels to him. He repeats to him how they’re so very safe, but Moony only screams about the number of people.THEY’RE EXPENDABLE, WEAK. Remus takes a deep breath, praying that after tomorrow’s full moon, it’ll be better. Maybe if he grips his humanity a little tighter, he’ll get to keep it. The front door creaks and Remus’ eyes dart to the noise, seeing familiar wavy black hair enter the café.      

Padfoot, Moony whispers and Remus lets out a breath, finally a normal volume.

 Sirius shakes out the October chill and unzips his leather jacket to adjust to the inside heat. He weaves to the table where Remus now relaxes.            

“This place is so… lopsided,” Sirius says, his grey eyes traveling up to the ceiling then down to the floor. He pulls back a chair and throws a leg up on the table, making himself at home.            

Remus chuckles, “Some would say that’s the point.”            

Crooked House Café is a small place one village over from Hogsmeade that serves both muggles and wizards. The walls line with shelves of old books and vintage art posters hang below. The posters have a subtle charm on them that allows the subjects to move ever so slightly. Seven table and chair sets dot the interior and offer the only seating. Above each table a bright bare light bulb hangs from the ceiling, so it permanently looks like late afternoon in the café. Remus has always been comforted by the way time pauses in here and stays at the perfect hour.            

“Have you done the potions essay yet?” Remus asks Sirius even though he knows the answer. Sirius’ eyebrow twitches and a slow smile forms on his face. 

“James is writing ours,” he says.            

“Ours?” Remus leans back in his chair, “I’m confident the essay shouldn‘t be co-authored.”            

“Well, there’s only one author: James,” he says, studying the chalk board menu. Remus remembers the upcoming Quidditch match and sees the reality.            

“So, Lily’s writing three essays?” Remus corrects. “That’s a serious amount of work.” He tenses, realizing he walked straight into it.            

“You sound like my mother,” he says off-handed, then gets up to order a drink.            

The front door squeaks again and Moony smells Prongs and Wormtail. Remus smiles at the two and waves them over. They commandeer two chairs from an empty neighboring table, squeezing in on opposite sides to fit under the small square table. James adjusts his glasses, then pulls a knee to his chest to get comfortable.            

“Is this your secret hideaway?” Peter asks, unraveling his scarf. His eyes circling the off- kilter place much the way Sirius’ did.            

“I suppose,” Remus says. He digs into his jean pocket to unearthing folded bills and spare change to find the correct amount for a chocolate muffin.            

Sirius returns, knocking into James’ chair and James shoves back, but Sirius’ evasive maneuvers dissolve James’ hard push into a light tap.            

“Whoa, there, carrying the goods here,” Sirius says. Remus eyes flutter upward in a disguised eye roll he does when Sirius makes a narcissistic comment. “I saw that,” Sirius’ voice sounds beside Remus, “I wasn’t referring to myself, but I’m glad to know you think of me as the goods.” His braceleted hand places a chocolate muffin in front of Remus before he takes his seat beside James. Remus lets a real eyeroll go this time, but thanks him for the muffin too.            

James pulls out our unfinished map from his robe, unfolding it on the table. “Fellow Marauders, we have a new edit to make,” he says.            

“Yeah?” Remus raises an eyebrow.            

“James and I found a new passage way,” Sirius says, sipping his latte.            

“No way!” Peter exclaims, “Where’s this one go?”            

James flips through the folds of the map, then points at a blank space outside the castle. “Here,” he says. James’ finger trails along the paper, “And it leads to a little field just outside  Hogsmeade.”            

“So, it’s underground?” Peter asks. Remus leans closer to the map, assessing the new discovery. They don’t have anything marking the area James traces            

“Yeah,” James says, nodding, “It’s a tunnel. Made of stone, flickering lights, and musty water. Bloody creepy.”            

“We already have the one-eyed witch passage to go to Hogsmeade. Why use this one?” Peter says.            

“This one, I assume by the isolated location, isn’t monitored by anyone,” Remus starts, then continues as Sirius throws him a proud smirk, “And say, if we needed to smuggle something into the castle, it‘s a better passage.”            

“This is why we keep you around,” Sirius says with a wink. With the full moon near, Remus’ emotion amplify, so a pink blush dusts his cheeks. Remus clears his throat and pulls at the neck of his sweater.            

“Bit warm in here,” he mumbles.            

“No kidding,” James agrees, “I’ve sweat through my jumper.” He lifts an arm, pointing to the slight darkening around his pit.            

“James, you’ll make the whole place stink,” Sirius says.            

“Piss off,” he says, thrusting his foot into the bottom of Sirius’ chair. Remus smiles at their antics, but the joy doesn’t quite reach him. Perhaps, another time will let him feel the happiness. He sighs.            

James and Sirius’ mini-fight cause enough ruckus to garner the attention of the owner, a balding man whose frame matches the house: a touch off center. He throws a disapproving look at the group of misfit boys crowded around a small table.            

“Our welcome is waning,” Remus says, then checks his watch, “We should get back to the castle, anyway.”  

REMUS STARES INTO the narrow tunnel. It’s exactly as James described. The walls and floor are made of stacked stone and the ceiling curves overhead. A set of stairs leads down to a flat floor and every meter a light shines with the help of magic, creating patches of dark and light. We’re not going underground, Moony says. Three Marauders file down the stairs, but Remus stays planted in the grass outside.            

“C’mon,” Peter waves a hand, beckoning Remus forward.            

He shakes his head, “Moony says no.” Remus chews on his lip as his heart thumps in his chest and his hands sweat, so he sticks them in his pockets.    

Peter tugs James’ jumper, then turns his attention to Remus, “We can explore another time.”            

The boys climb out of the secret passageway and walk along the gravel path toward the castle. It towers ahead and blocks out the sun’s rays, leaving them in chilly shadows. Sirius zips up his jacket and Peter wraps his scarf around his neck once again while James tucks his hands under his elbows to keep them warm. Remus feels too warm.            

“I hate this,” Remus mumbles under his breath. James catches his muttering and gives him a reassuring smile that tells him not to worry. Remus manages to return the expression, but Moony complains about the confining space of Remus’ body. A bead of sweat trickles down his back, adding to his skin’s uncomfortable status. He entertains taking off his layers of clothes, but revealing the scars etched into his body to the world keeps him from enacting this impulse. Remus doesn’t need the extra attention or the stares today, especially today. He glances at his watch again, counting down the hours. They whittle faster than Remus wishes.            

James bets Sirius he can run faster, arguing that a stag’s long legs make them better at running than a dog’s short ones. They appoint Remus to be the judge, but before anyone speeds off into the distance, they’re interrupted by the sound of someone else’s footsteps on the gravel path.

“Snivellus,” Sirius say, his upper lip curling back.

“Taking the dog out for a walk, are we?” Severus sneers, narrowing his eyes on Remus. “Woof,” Sirius says. Peter holds in his laughter, but clutches his wand tighter, whether out of fear or anger, Remus doesn’t know.            

James squares his shoulders, “Don’t you have a chemistry set to play with or something?”            

Severus glares at them then stalks off, his black robes billowing in the wind. They shake off the encounter with Snape and continue with the race, and even Peter places a bet on who will win.  

THE FOUR MARAUDERS stuff themselves under James’ invisibility cloak while the sneak through the castle the next night. Remus stoops to match the height of the other boys and they each tug on the edges of the cloak to keep it in place. Remus smells Peter’s fear sweat and the remainders Lily’s perfume on James, but what he really smells is Sirius. His peppermint gum and his favorite cologne swirl in the tight space under the cloak.

“Guys, my feet are sticking out,” Peter whispers.            

“I’m pretty sure all of our feet are sticking out,” Sirius says, shifting the surrounding cloak.            

“Well, Peter,” Remus chuckles, “if you get caught, we all get caught.”            

“So, the usual stakes,” James says. Remus hears the smile in his voice and cracks a smile despite the circumstances and impending trouble.            

They make it out of the castle and once they get far enough outside, they ditch the cloak. Remus breathes in the fresh air and watches his friends scatter in front of him, running toward the Whomping Willow to access the passageway to the Shrieking Shack.            

The night sky domes above the Marauders, sprinkled with stars and in the sky’s corner, the full moon shines. Remus stares at it while Moony stirs, desperate to claw his way out. Remus sighs, thinking he should admit that he and Moony are one in the same. They are both monstrous and they are both dangerous.            

Sirius stops and walks back to where Remus stands.            

“You think you’ll make it to the shack?” he asks, “The forest is close if you can’t.”                

“Do you ever feel like you won’t ever have enough time?” Remus says, not answering his question, “There’s this idea that at some future time, the pain won’t hurt so much and if we hold on long enough, we’ll get there,” Silence lingers between them as Sirius listens to Remus’ words, both the ones said aloud and those kept inside. “Perhaps that time is only rewarded to the good ones,” Remus says, staring at the ground and shoving his hands into his sweater’s pockets. Sirius’ warm hand grips his shoulder.            

“I’ve seen evil and you, Remus John Lupin, don’t compare. You have so much good inside,” Sirius says.            

“And so much bad,” Remus whispers.            

“I’ve yet to see it.”            

“Do you think if I wait long enough, I’ll find the time?” Remus hesitantly peaks up at the familiar grey eyes and shaggy brown hair, fearing both a positive and a negative answer.            

Sirius shrugs, “Why wait, Moony?” He points with his head to Whomping Willow, “C’mon, we’ll have to rush to catch up with them.”            

Remus follows Sirius, hurrying to meet his best friends. Sirius grabs Remus’ hand to move him along faster, which makes him want to feel this entire moment: the pain of facing his worst fears, the hope of a better future, the knowledge of how dangerous that hope is, and the love of his friends. Remus accepts it all if only for a second to experience a slice of that better time.