#i will just be picking tabs at random so we'll see what we get!

[tchintchun]

Adeeb Khalid (1996). Tashkent 1917: Muslim Politics in Revolutionary Turkestan. Slavic Review, 55(2), 270–296.

doi:10.2307/2501913

[glaciertea]

Of Ribbons & Love

Summary: All she wants is a Pokémon, and Miguel is a bit on edge about that. Yet, when they stumble upon a hurt Eevee out in the rain, one simply can't turn their back on an innocent creature.

So with that, Miguel and Gabi takes matter into their own hands.

Just a one shot I did of Spider-Man and Pokémon. Originally posted on Ao3.

Content warning: Major character death, implied/Reference of abuse, hurt/comfort, sad and sweet.

Word count: 4.7K

In a world where humans and Pokémon co-exist, together as one, many are seen running about in the open world, going out to explore and battle with their companion, or casually roaming the streets and stores.

It was universally common for a household to have a Pokémon friend in their home, except for the rare few.

And one who falls under this category was Miguel O'Hara.

It's not like he didn't have any of his own growing up; in fact, he and his brother battled all the time. He loved going out and catching a team of his own, building a bond before eventually releasing them when the time felt right.

But right after Gabi was born and her mom left, he found himself more distracted by her than anything else.

It just didn't help that his only child had such an extreme love for Pokémon.

More so than him.

“Papa, do you think I'll finally be able to have my very own Pokémon soon?”

Gabriella skipped over every rain puddle they came across.

“Hm, Gabi, what did we talk about before?”

“But Cameron has her own! It's a Woobat that her papa got for her when he went into the caves.” She stopped in a particular deep puddle before Miguel picked her up and placed her on his shoulders, ignoring the dirt and water dripping from her rain boots.

“Mhm. But are we Cameron and her papa?”

Gabriella sulked, crossing her arms on top of his head. “No…”

“I told you, mija, when you're in the next grade, we'll consider getting you one, but for now–”

“We have to wait and see because Pokémon have a lot of responsibility.”

Miguel joined in and nodded his head. “Exactly. Just have patience, and one day we will go out and find the perfect Pokémon for you.”

Swinging her feet some, accidentally whacking Miguel's chest, she prattled off all the names of ones she would like to have. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her antics, but he didn't want to spoil her fun.

And this was a good way to keep tabs on what she would prefer. If he could, he would catch them all, even Arceus itself.

Placing Gabi back on her feet after catching a cramp in his neck. She splashed around, a couple of steps ahead, when she heard a faint cry.

Tipping her head some, she listened out for the sound again.

Nothing. 

She shrugged her shoulders and went on her merry way, and the sound rose in the air. Blinking, she took off the splattering of water under her boots as she kept her ears wide open.

“Gabi? Gabriella!” Miguel ran behind, disoriented about why his child decided to sprint off like that.

She screeched to a stop in front of a shrub as it made that familiar whine. “Papa! Mira, mira!”

“Gabriella, sabes que no debes despegar así, es peligroso para ti hacerlo-”

Miguel paused when a frail whimper emerged from the bushes, a soft squeak of discomfort or agony. He followed the direction Gabriella's finger was pointing, cautiously stepping over to the rustling bushes.

“Mija, stay close and behind me, okay?”

She nodded, shuffling near until her head was peeping out from over his huge shoulders, curiosity still seeping through.

Miguel kept a firm, attentive gaze on the shrub, the noises becoming fainter. He wasn't afraid to protect his child. From a random grunt to an enraged Primeape, he would defend until he took his last breath.

Thoroughly opening it up, he was met with exhausted, suffering brown eyes before taking in the full figure.

“It's an Eevee, papa!” She gasped out and tried to reach for it before Miguel pulled her back and shook his head.

“Mija, no. Siempre debemos tener cuidado cuando se trata de Pokémon salvaje.”

“But it looks really hurt, papa.” She pouted and dove underneath Miguel to get a better look.

The Eevee was scared, scratching on its body; one ear flopped down on the side of its head as it struggled to try and run, but collapsed when the right hind leg gave out. Tears rushed down those dull eyes as Gabriella felt her heart shatter.

“Papa, do we help? It looks really sad.”

Miguel eyed the two, a million questions and doubts swarming in his noggin, debating if this was even a good idea. Yet, when he peered into those brown, glossy eyes from both and saw how drenched Gabriella was, he sighed out.

“Alright. We'll take them to a nearby center and see what the nurse has to say, okay?”

Gabi's face lit up like a firecracker from the annual Magikarp festival. Miguel took off the hoodie he was wearing, gently beckoning the creature to come forward. The Eevee only scooted back, petrified of the man's colossal stature. The young girl took notice before gradually slipping herself in between.

“It's okay, Eevee; my papa may look big and scary, but he's really helpful when you get to know him.” She grinned brightly and held her arms out.

It shook a bit, intensely eyeing the bright-eyed child and the behemoth behind her.

“Papa, get down.”

“What?”

“Come down here.”

Sighing out, he got on his knees and handed Gabi the hoodie.

“See, papa is nice. We want to help you, Eevee.” She opened up the fabric even more. “It's okay.”

The Eevee nodded and limped its way into Gabi's small limbs. Eevee was stiff the entire time, refusing to let up for even a second when they finally arrived at the building. 

Nurse Joy greeted the two but went into work mode the moment she laid eyes on the poor creature. She made the two stay in the lobby until she gave them the green flag that it was okay.

“I'm glad you came when you did. Poor thing looks like it got attacked.” Nurse Joy folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head up at Miguel.

“What Pokémon do you think could've done that?”

That's when a grim look was plastered on her face. She swirled her head over to Gabi to make sure the child was far enough away not to hear. 

“I don't think it was a Pokémon that did this.”

A scowl reached Miguel, a grunt escaping as well. “Some people are just so cruel and heartless.”

“Sadly. My partner rescued a Vulpix from an ex-mutual friend of ours who was torturing the poor soul. Luckily, we reported them to Officer Jenny, and now he's a thriving, gorgeous Ninetails.”

Crossing their arms, they leaned back on the wall when Gabi sprinted up to the two.

“Excuse me, Nurse Joy? May I see the Eevee?”

“Of course! You just have to be very quiet and careful around her.”

She guided the two into the room, where Eevee was perched up by comfy pillows and a few bandaged wrappings over her body.

“Eevee? You have a couple of guests who want to see you. It's okay; it's the one who came to your rescue.” She waved the two in.

Miguel, who was squeezing Gabi's hand, tapped it a few times. “Go ahead.”

Gabi carefully tiptoed to Eevee, whispering words of reassurance. Her fingers were out in front, just like Nurse Joy taught her. Eevee was nervous but relaxed when Gabi held the back of her palm out so she could sniff it. 

“She's a pro at this.” Nurse Joy said.

“She always had a knack for Pokémon. Better than her papa.” They chuckled and observed the scene.

It took a while for her to get used to Gabi, but the two were eventually playing, with Gabi making sure to take extra precautions in how she handled the smaller being.

Time was lost to the three when Miguel told his daughter it was time to head off.

“Can we keep her, papa? Please? Please?” She bounced on the balls of her feet, putting on her best Yamper eyes look and holding her tiny, clenched hands near her chest. “I promise I'll take good care of her!”

“Now hold on; we can't just uproot her from the center, especially when she's not doing too well.” He knelt down and brushed her damp hair. “She needs to be in a place where she's properly healing and free from any more harm.”

Gabi's face fell. She crossed her arms, gazing at the tile floor. Miguel's shoulders stiffened, feeling tighter than usual.

“I know, but we have to let her be. Go ahead and say goodbye.”

The young girl trudged over and caressed the top of Eevee's tufts on its head. 

Joy bit her bottom lip and swayed from side to side. “You can visit her as much as you'll like until she's better. It seems as if she's taken a liken to you.”

Nurse Joy warmly smiled as the Eevee licked Gabi's finger, lightly shoving its head into her arms and hands.

With a twinkle in her eyes, she turned to Miguel. “Can we do that, papa?”

“I don't know.”

“Pretty please? I promise I won't be in the way, and I won't cause any troubles.”

Rubbing his hand on his shoulder blade, he averted his attention to the main person in interest in this whole temporary visiting situation. “And are you sure that'll be okay with you?”

“Of course. It's not often, but there are some trainers who bring in sick Pokémon and check in on them. Some may even form a strong bond to the point where the Pokémon wants to go with the person.”

He was dead silent. That last sentence made his mind race as he scratched the side of his face. He was really going to do this, was he?

“Alright, but when Nurse Joy needs to do her work, you will leave her be, yes, sir?”

The girl dashed to him, giving him a big hug around his stomach. “Gracias, papá! I promise I'll be good and respectful.” A giddy squeal graced the two adults, making them laugh.

And for the past week, Gabriella and Miguel have taken a detour to the Pokémon Center. Gabi and the Eevee would play and talk until it was time for the Pokémon to rest up for the night.

It did take some time for the Eevee to open up to other humans, especially Miguel. Nurse Joy explained that whatever she was going through, that trauma would still be heavily engraved in her mind.

It pissed Miguel off that someone would treat something so innocent as an Eevee with such cruelty and hatred. He made sure to ask constantly for updates about the previous owners and if they even bothered to contact the center.

And each day, he was met with a secret bit of relief, knowing that no one showed up to reclaim the Eevee.

They were having a blast. It was now routine for the dad and daughter duo to march their way up to the building right after Gabi got let out of school.

After a month and a half, there were still no reports on the whereabouts of the original owner.

“You know, after a two-month time frame, if a Pokémon is still in the care of the center, we are allowed to give them to someone we believe would be a good home for them.”

And with those words from Nurse Joy, he made his decision.

It was a surprise that he kept it, and even Joy had trouble keeping it a secret.

When the two-month mark reached, Joy was standing with the Eevee wrapped around in her arms with a massive, toothy grin on her face.

Furrowed eyebrows, she raised her head to Miguel, who too held a smile on him.

“Yes, you can have her.”

The child squeaked and opened her arms as the Eevee leapt into them, nudging its face into hers. Laughter filled the air, and nurse Joy couldn't help but wipe a tear away as her cheeks were up to her eyes. 

“What will you name her?” The nurse spoke up and squatted near the two.

Gabi placed her thumb and index finger under her chin, a thinking pose and expression on her. “Let's see… I'm going to name you... Oh! Solace.”

“That's a really pretty name. Do you know what it means?”

“Mhm! It means peace. We learned that in class today. Do you like the name, papa?”

The man nodded his head at her. “Yes, that's a beautiful name you chose for her.” He poked her forehead and smiled at the two.

Nurse Joy clapped her hands and helped to fully discharge the small thing and give it to its owners.

“I think you found a new lovely home, Solace. You're going to get the warmth and love you deserve.”

With a new Pokémon in Gabi's arms, she rambled on about the fun stuff they were going to do and how much she would love it.

“We promise to take good care of you! Right, papa?”

“Yes, nothing but the best.” He scratched both of the crowns of their heads and took a hold of Gabi's hand.

Weeks passed as the two grew closer and closer. Solace was a bit frightened in the new home, anxious if their new family was only playing it up. She would occasionally run away or stow herself in a place that believed it couldn't be spotted, until Gabi would gently coax her out, as both Miguel and she gave Solace that much-needed patience and affection.

“Do you think Solace will ever like us, papa?” They turned to the Eevee, who was curled up and asleep on Gabi's soft blanket.

“She has been through a lot, so it may take time for her to get used to things.” He muttered out before taking the hair tie from his mouth and wrapping it around one of the pigtails.

“Papa?”

“Mhm?” He grabbed a ribbon-shaped barrette and placed it on the side of her hair.

“Does Solace not like you?”

Miguel exhaled from his nose and took another barrette. “Possibly, maybe because of my height or because I remind her of someone, but at the end of the day, she's your Pokémon.”

“She's yours too. We are one big family. And I will tell you every single day.” She kicked her legs and stuck her tongue out at the man.

His shoulders bounced in hushed laughter, and he handed her her bag. “Alright, but if you forget, I won't remind you. Now come on, let's get you to school.” 

But progressively, she started to open up around the child. Running around the front yard, playing in her room, and doing many activities such as art, singing, dancing, and dressing up.

The three took trips to the market or hiked along, observing other Pokémon from a distance. The bond between the two only increased day by day.

“Solace, me and you are going to be friends forever. Even when I'm old like Papa, we're going to be together all the time.”

Miguel couldn't help but take offense to that. “Mija, I'm not that old.”

"Yes, you are! Uncle Gabriel said so!” She stuck her tongue out as Eevee jumped back and forth.

“Hmm, is that so? So if I were old, could I still do this?!” He pulled them both into his arms, tickling them. Squeals and contagious giggles spilled over the room from all three.

The months were nothing but pure happiness. Maybe Miguel should have gotten a Pokémon for Gabi a long time ago; she was always energetic, but with Solace in the picture, it seemingly amped up more, and he loved it.

Things were lovely. Solace eventually did take a liking to Miguel, and whenever she wasn't hanging around Gabi, she would be huddled up right next to Miguel. 

It felt right; things were right.

Then there was a day.

Everything started out like any normal day. Miguel was squabbling with Gabi and Solace to get out of bed, helping her dress, preparing breakfast for the three, and sitting and eating as a family.

Walking to the school with Solace on her head. Carelessly hopping along, she discussed whatever thoughts crossed her mind. Miguel couldn't tell if she was speaking to him or the Eevee, but he gladly listened to every word that trickled out.

Kissing her and giving her a great big hug, he and Solace waved her off as she entered the school for another fun-filled day.

The day went by as usual. Nothing was too exciting or eventual until it was time to get her. Solace was taking a nap, and he didn't want to bother her, so he went on his way. 

He wasn't expecting to get a call from her school.

He was halfway there when his cell rang, and he got the news.

Gabi ran into the streets to save a wild Bounsweet when she was struck.

If only he wasn't a few minutes late, he could've been there. He could've prevented it from ever happening. She would've been skipping alongside him, going on about her day, and ready to see Solace.

Miguel dashed to the center, hoping and praying that all was okay.

Not his little girl. Not his sweet, precious girl.

He sprinted into the center, frantically looking for anyone who remotely worked there. 

“Joy! Nurse Joy?!”

“Mr. O'Hara, here; I'm over here.”

“Where is my daughter? Where is my Gabi?!”

“She's in critical condition, but we're doing all we can to make her stable–”

“Where is my daughter?! Let me see her; I need to see her!”

Joy and Blissey rushed in front of him, knowing she couldn't possibly take him on but had to give it a chance.

“Please, Mr. O'Hara. I know you want to see her; I really do understand, and I'm so sorry, but we can't allow you back there at this time; we don't want to stress out the doctors.”

Miguel growled, picked up Joy, moved her to the side with ease, and strided over to a set of double doors, despite the warning shouts.

He needed his little girl; he couldn't lose her. She was all he had left.

He was a few feet away when a harmonious voice fluttered in Miguel's ears. Creepingly rotating his body to the noise, everyone in the building had their ears covered, confused and worried eyes all on him.

Blissey sang right in his direction, not budging as the melody swarmed him. He tried to hurriedly shroud away the notes, but his body was suddenly heavy. He fought to keep awake, yet his limbs were giving up on him.

“Necesito ver... mi Gabriella...”

The last thing he saw was Nurse Joy and Blissey hobbling over to him.

Miguel hastily sat up, gaining a sense of the environment. A simple hospital room painted a wan, pastel green, with posters concerning health and other things—your run-of-the mill standard room.

Dazed for a bit, he recollected his thoughts. That's when it dawned on him.

Gabriella.

Ready to throw himself out of bed and out into the halls, Nurse Joy came in with a cup of water. He pierced daggers right into her blue eyes as she gulped and trembled. Setting the cup on a nearby counter, with no hesitation, she directed him up and right into his child's room.

There, he was able to spend the last day with her. Stroking her hair and singing her favorite lullabies. They were able to speak, but her words were a bit slurred, but even still, she held onto that warmth and smile that she always radiated.

“Te amo, papá. Y a mí también me encanta Solace. Los amo a ambos.”

Only one went home that night.

Miguel flung the door open before slamming it shut, the hinges nearly coming off.

He went straight to her room and eyeballed all the decorations and furniture occupying the space. The enclosed area was filled with toys, drawings, pokedolls, books, and more.

It was silent. No more laughter. There was no cheerful glee whenever he'd come into this room.

No more calls for him to see the new drawings she did; no more fighting and tickling to get her out of bed. No more excitement when a new episode of her favorite show.

The house was empty, and the soul and energy vanished like nothing. He made his way in and sat on her bed. Glancing at her pillow, an incoming wave of new tears crashed onto him, taking the pillow and hugging it tightly to his chest. 

His sobs were heard throughout the house as Solace's steps were light, his head peeking around the corner, taking in the crying giant. A bit lost wondering where her friend was, she ambled in, walking in a circle before lying at Miguel's feet.

He didn't notice her until much later, as he picked up the sleeping Eevee and carried her to the couch. A place he now finds himself residing at.

The week was a blur for him. His mother and brother took care of most of the funeral preparations, aiding him by taking care of Solace while also consoling them both.

And when the day arrived, Miguel was as lost as he ever was. He didn't bring the Eevee, despite the protest from his family that she had to be there for her, but Miguel denied it.

“I don't want Solace to suffer like me.”

And with that, they accepted the reason, letting the man grieve in his own way. They didn't want to stress him out any further. 

Miguel went directly home after the lowering of her body, not wanting to interact with anyone for a while.

He was an empty shell now. Biting back a new cry threatening to escape, he swung the front door open when he saw Solace laying hopelessly on the couch.

The Eevee's ear perked up as the two peered at each other for what seemed like forever.

She knew that her owner wasn't going to bolt through the wooden entrance, ready to give a comforting hug.

Solace jumped off the cushion and made her way to the shattered man.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He never felt so lost in his entire life. His dead eyes followed Solace as he mindlessly slumped to his knees and patted his lap, heeding her.

He picked up and clinched onto Solace for dear life. Miguel sobbed out, the rumbles in his chest shaking the creature and his own body.

“Lo siento mucho. Lo siento mucho.” He repeated it in Eevee's ear. “She loved you; she truly loved you. I didn't—I should have done so much more for her. I'm so sorry I took her from you. I'm so sorry, Solace.”

Solace blinks a few times before butting its head at Miguel. 

She began to glow, with Miguel's head shooting up to look at the evolution. Did someone sneak a stone on him? He patted his pockets but only felt his phone. It wasn't night, so it's not an Umbreon. Maybe an Espeon? He held his breath as her form grew and took on a shape.

Shielding his eyes, a blinding white light flashed. Something was tickling his skin—something long and flowy.

The once creamy and brown puffball transformed into a slender and graceful Sylveon.

Miguel's already broken and tattered heart was dusted away when he realized the implications.

“She was your best friend, wasn't she?”

The Sylveon nestled more into him, taking in his breathing. They stayed this way for most of the day, when Miguel got up to make them something to eat. A hamburger steak.

One of Gabi's favorites.

It was comforting in a way. Miguel sought comfort in this tiny creature for days on end. They mostly stayed home; the only time they would leave the house was for necessities, with the locals giving their condolences and offering free items, but eventually stopped when Miguel refused at every opportunity.

A banner made by Gabi's school dangled over the couch. Drawings of her favorite Pokémon or words of love from her teachers, classmates, friends, and others are decorated all over it.

He wasn't the same man. His mama and brother would often visit, checking in on them, spending the nights with them, or forcing the two to come stay with them for a bit.

“Mamá, no lo creo…”

She gave him a look, and suddenly, it was help he didn't want to refute.

It was hard. 

He would find himself stuck in his routine, only for it to hit him when he remembered it was merely him and Solace.

Solace, who never left his side, would fall into the pits of missing Gabi too.

It took the courage and effort to finally take her to Gabi's grave.

It also took the strength to finally go back up there after nearly four months of seclusion, using Solace as an excuse to visit it. 

He kneeled down, letting her leap on his shoulder, and they made their way to the site.

The air was still; there was not a single sight of blue in the sky. It certainly set the tone for the visit. Miguel would glance over to check in on the Sylveon, making sure she wasn't slipping off him.

Purposefully taking shorter and drawn-out strides, they went into the small gate leading into the graveyard.

Berries, flowers, and knickknacks were veiled markers from the deceased, gifts for the departed even though they couldn't physically have them.

He refrained from turning back and locking himself back in his home.

Each step was heavier than the last. Glassed eyes, the self-rain wanting well back up. After a couple minutes, they finally reached the site.

Dropping down, he reread the etching of her name before zoning out. Solace stared up at him, then at the curved stone piece.

She wanted to know. She had to.

Solace wrapped her ribbons around Miguel's arms, tears immediately streaming down her face. Even if Miguel was hiding his emotion, she sensed every grief and anguish rushing through his heart and mind. 

A feeble whistling cry escaped from Solace as it hid its face in Miguel's forearm.

The man continued to gaze at the headstone before quietly lowering it to the pink and white Pokémon. He eyed its state, the heaving from its back as the twine from the ribbons refused to loosen its grasp.

Hesitantly, he stroked Solace's soft fur, his own tears rushing down his face.

“I remember… I remember her telling me that one day—one day—you would see me as one of your best friends, that you would see me as a papa too.” He weakly chuckled and wiped away some of the wet droplets. “I didn't know what she meant by that; Gabi was always saying something silly, but it was wise in a way. Funny how a child can see more than an adult.”

Those big and wet pale-blue eyes stared right into his, and for the first time in months, a small but genuine smile appeared on his somber exterior. 

He knew he couldn't do this forever. Yet he still needed to hold on tight. 

“But now… Now I know what she meant by that.” He stood up and patted Solace's head.

“Come on, Solace. Let's make some ribbons and place them around Gabi. I think she will really love to see that.”

Arm-in-ribbon, the two sluggishly trailed back home before looking up at the cloudy sky, leisurely parting until a ray of warmth engulfed the two, drying their streams of sorrow.

Epilogue:

Seven years worth of ribbons of all kinds decorated the gray headstone as a pair of tiny hands stuck another on it.

“Do you think big sis would like this color, daddy?”

“She would love any color. Right, Solace?”

A tuneful whistle brisked their ears as the man and child laughed.

“Next, we'll do a rainbow one! Is that okay?”

“Si, of course. Now, let's head home before your other parent gets worried about us being late to dinner. Come on, Solace.”

The Pokémon curled its ribbons around the two arms and happily strolled in between, loving the embracing, cozy heat and sunset skies.

The ache still throbs, but the peace and joy kept them together. Just like she would've wanted it to be. 

[lire-casander]

chapter #4 — first chorus

TK can feel his cheeks burning as Carlos finishes entering what he can only hope is a correct phone number, before handing TK’s phone back.

He stares at the warm brown eyes that are looking back at him, wide and questioning, and he can't help but wonder what on Earth possessed him to leave Jonah’s favorite ice cream parlor because he saw a random stranger inadvertently drop his wallet. And then follow said stranger all the way through the city.

"Now," Carlos says, his voice an octave deeper than it was a second before. "Can I—can I have yours?"

The feeling that washes over TK is exhilarating. It's been a hot minute since the last time he gave out his phone number to anyone; Paul has been managing all his communications, so the last person TK shared his number with was Alex. He feels a shiver crawling up his spine. He doesn't want to think about that cheater.

“Gladly,” TK says with a small smile. He swipes his thumb over his screen and in a matter of seconds Carlos’ phone starts vibrating in his hand. “There, you have it.”

He waits, almost impatiently, as Carlos saves his number. TK’s about to place his own phone on the table when the screen lights up. When he checks it, he sees it's Judd.

"Sorry," he huffs. "I need to take this." Carlos nods; TK’s standing up and walking away for privacy even before that. "Judd," he greets curtly.

"Where are you?" Judd cuts right to the core of the matter. "TK, you vanished.” Before he can interrupt, Judd continues forcefully, “Don’t tell me that you texted Enzo. A text saying I’m fine, not being kidnapped, sorry for ditching you isn’t an explanation. It definitely hasn’t calmed Enzo, let me tell you, and there are a lot of pictures already posted of you and some guy. Tell me where you are. I'll come take you home."

"Pictures? Already?" TK asks, dumbfounded.

"You know how fast they work, TK," Judd scoffs. "There are stills of you and some guy that could be the owner of the wallet you found on the floor at the parlor. They're everywhere. Where are you?"

The shiver that had made itself present in his spine comes back full force. He doesn't need to check the websites to know this is bad. Really bad.

Nuclear bad.

"I'm at Ms. Fa’s," he tells Judd. "We had to run from the paps. I didn't think."

"You sure as hell didn't, city boy," Judd grunts. "You're not that far away. I’ll be there in five. Be ready. There might be more paps out and I may not be able to save you from them." And, with that, the call disconnects.

TK goes back to their table. He knows there's a grim expression on his face; Carlos picks up on the mood swing quickly, standing up. "The food is on me," he offers, but TK dismisses him.

"It’s fine, don’t worry. Ms. Fa knows to add it to my tab. But I really need to go, Carlos, I’m sorry. I've really enjoyed being with you. I hope we can do it again sometime."

Carlos smiles that smile of his, the one that could light up the whole universe. "Text me? Or, I don't know, call me? Or should I call you? I don’t know if I should—"

TK mimics the smile. "I'll call you. But you can call me too. This is a two-way street, Carlos."

"Then we'll talk again, TK."

TK turns in time to see Judd entering the place and saying something to An in Chinese as well. "C'mon, pretty boy," he says without proper greeting, and not acknowledging Carlos' presence. "Let's get you out of here."

TK would love to say goodbye to Carlos, to avoid leaving him standing in the middle of a Chinese restaurant in Spring Street, but he knows he needs to follow Judd. So he doesn't say anything else, allowing himself to be guided through the space and out of the door. The car isn’t parked right outside the restaurant; instead, Judd leads him down the street a few steps before a clamoring crowd of photographers and journalists gang up on them like hawks onto their prey. Judd was right; the vultures would have spared no one had they known the exact location of Ms. Fa’s restaurant. He can just hope that they don’t get a whiff of Carlos’ whereabouts.

He wouldn’t want to scare Carlos without a chance to get to know him better.

"TK, how are you feeling about the video?"

"Who's this mysterious guy?"

"Have you been cheating on Alex too?"

TK’s used to the crazy that surrounds his public life, but he shudders when the last question makes its way into his mind. Knowing that it's what the world will think — that he's stooped down to Alex’s level, that he could even get that low as to destroy someone's trust like this — TK swallows down a whimper. The itch beneath his skin irks him, the need to scrap the sobriety he's worked so hard to keep overwhelming and deafening. He wonders where it's been these past moments; he realizes that he hasn't thought about using because he's been busy getting to know Carlos. The only thing tethering him to the ground is Judd’s hand around his waist, deftly leading him towards a black car, the way he's been doing for the past few years.

"Enough!" Judd bellows, steeping in between TK and the crowd of flashes and barks, "Get into the car. Go, go!"

The silence inside the car grows steadier but it’s not uncomfortable, TK notices after a few turns and lights. Just when they’re waiting for the third or fourth light to turn from red to green, TK grabs his phone and checks his notifications, only to see that Carlos has already texted him.

You gonna be okay?

TK huffs. I will be, he promises. Then, he types I think it’d be better, before making up his mind and deleting all the words, typing instead, I'm better now than I was before. Thanks for that.

The reply comes straight away. I'm glad I could help. Try to sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow.

And with that promise, TK — after sending a smiley emoji back — pockets his phone and rests his head on the headrest, waiting for the ride to be over.

When the car arrives at his building, Paul shows up out of the blue to escort him through the throng of paparazzi accosting him until he reaches the safe haven of his home. A few minutes later, Judd catches up to them when they’re waiting for the elevator. He’s panting slightly; TK suspects that, while they’re not allowed into the building, the paparazzi can be extenuating and quite insistent, following the car all the way to the entrance of the private parking in the building. Usually, they would just enter the parking lot and ride the elevator from there to the penthouse, but works in the parking space have cut off the elevator service down there. Now, TK finds himself having to fend off reporters and photographers even as he tries to enter his own building.

The television is on when he sets foot into his apartment, some advertisement running in the background; it looks like someone, most likely Enzo given the time, has turned it on and then forgot to turn it off, because there’s no one around. TK shrugs off Paul’s worries and Judd’s orders not to leave the place until the coast is clear and the paparazzi have left the area, which TK knows won’t be happening before sunrise. TK flops down onto his couch, ignoring the way Paul pointedly glares at him while Judd goes to check the door, and he leans in to grab the remote and change the channel when Jesse Corbett gets back into the frame and TK remains frozen in his spot as the showman resumes what seems to be his speech prior to the ad cut.

“Did you hear TK Strand freaked out at the concert tonight? Apparently he had a breakdown because his fiancé got a little frisky with someone else. Shame on you, Alex! But d’you know what?” He points to the audience that can’t be seen on the screen and goes on, destroying what’s left of TK’s self-esteem in the process. “Now he's been seen getting cozy with a guy nobody knew of. Can you believe that? Is there something you want to tell us, TK? Maybe about your hypocrisy?"

“Why don’t you turn it off?” comes Enzo’s voice from behind the couch, startling TK. “It’s only bound to hurt you.”

“He’s not lying, you know,” TK mumbles. Enzo flops down the couch beside him and silently offers him the ice cream container he’s been holding in his hands. “Not about—not about me cheating. I could never—I mean, about me having a breakdown when I shouldn’t have. I’m an easy target to become a punchline.”

“Only because you allow them to treat you like one, TK,” Enzo sighs. “You need to start believing in yourself more. You need to start treating yourself the way you treat everyone else.”

“Enzo—”

“With respect,” Enzo interrupts him.

“It’s just—it’s—” TK can feel the prickle of tears behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes to find his focus. He’s feeling way too much at the same time, and he doesn’t want to resort to old coping mechanisms. Enzo must be thinking the same, for he carefully puts the container onto the coffee table in front of them and wraps his arms around TK’s shoulders, as though he was once again a lost teenager. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“What do you need?” Enzo mutters.

“Just— just tell me it didn't happen.” TK sobs into Enzo’s t-shirt. “Why do I always pick the wrong guy? I let everyone down. I let Jonah down. Oh, God, Jonah, he—”

“Jonah will be fine,” Enzo promises. “Now that Alex is out of the picture — because he is out of the picture, right? Jonah’s been so scared about this whole thing and about you forgetting about him. But then you made time for him, and he even met his teacher for the year at the parlor. Just try not to leave him alone to run off after some stranger without taking him with you next time, okay?” Enzo finishes in a teasing voice, letting TK know that he isn’t actually mad at him.

"I'm sorry," TK all but moans.

"Jonah wants you to be happy. He just doesn't like to feel that you're sidelining him. You should talk to him."

TK nods against Enzo’s chest. While it’s true he doesn’t particularly want to go through this conversation with his baby brother, he’s grateful that Enzo has helped him see that, sometimes, adulting means having tough conversations with the people you love.

“But maybe not tonight,” Enzo clarifies. “And preferably not tomorrow. We had all these big plans, since I’m leaving on Monday, and it’s taken me a while to convince him I won’t be leaving him just like Gwyn did. He asked for a day full of his favorite things.”

“He’s just like mom,” TK laughs wetly. “He always gets his way.”

“You’ll have your hands full with him while I’m away,” Enzo jokes. “Just try not to give in so much, okay?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

TK’s already feeling better; Enzo’s always had this superpower that calms TK in a way his own father never could. However, he doesn’t move even though he knows he should. He feels safe in Enzo’s embrace, and he wants it to last as long as possible before real life kicks back in. Which it does, in the form of one Marjan Marwani knocking on his door. Paul interrupts his nice and safe moment with Enzo by clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to do some damage control.”

“It’s okay, son,” Enzo says, standing up when TK removes himself from his personal space. “We’ll talk more tomorrow night, okay? Jonah will be fine, you’ll see. He’ll bounce back, as long as you bounce back too.”

“I’ll make sure he does, sir,” Paul promises, still not used to treating Enzo like part of the family, despite Enzo’s endless attempts to get him to call him by his given name. “Now, if you’ll excuse us—”

Enzo heads back to the guest room, and when they’re left alone — or as alone as a penthouse full of managers, social media gurus, and bodyguards can be — Paul leads Marjan to the couch, where she flops down unceremoniously. Judd comes around as well, talking on the phone with his wife, TK thinks. His face always turns into a mushy smile whenever he even thinks of her. However, this time his expression has morphed into one of disbelief.

“What do you mean you know—” he splutters, taking a few steps away from them. “Through T? How on Earth is that possible? Wait, what?” he continues, but as he takes steps further away from TK, the words blur into each other until TK can’t understand anything that’s being said.

Judd’s unease while speaking to his wife rubs off on TK, leaving him feeling quite nervous as well, although he can’t put a finger on the reason why.

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Marjan announces.

“Why do I feel like I’ll need something strong to drink?” Paul tries to joke, making his way to the kitchen and coming back, less than thirty seconds later, with four bottles of water.

“Great choice,” Marjan approves, grabbing hers and unscrewing the cap to take a sip. “The good news is that there was a lot of media coverage of how Alex has been a jerk and a cheater, which is good for publicity in your case.”

TK shakes his head. He isn’t sure how having his heart broken live on stage equals good publicity. It’s publicity, in any case, but none TK would have wanted.

“And the bad news?” Paul asks, mimicking her and drinking from his bottle. TK’s remains untouched.

“The bad news is that Alex has been calling nonstop for the past hour. Which, by the way, is the time that it’s taken me to get here,” Marjan adds. “Nobody knew where you’d gone, TK,” she says accusingly. “Way to not worry us.”

If he’s being honest, TK hadn’t even realized how long they’d been gone. Time had little to no importance while he was with Carlos. When he looks up at Paul and Marjan, he sees their matching unamused glares. “I did text.”

“Oh, do you mean that text you sent to Enzo, all cryptic and shit?” Paul questions.

TK doesn’t need to answer; everyone already knows what his reply would be. “Alex, you were saying,” he questions Marjan, diverting their attention from him.

“Apparently he’s going to Hawaii, using your honeymoon flight tickets. He says he needs to get his head together.” TK can’t help the scoff that escapes his mouth. “I know, I know. He’s a prick, he’s enjoying your trip to paradise for his benefit, and he’s a jerk who cheated on you. Repeatedly. But let’s try to stay positive here, okay?"

"How can we—" TK cuts himself off before he says something he might regret, like throwing his own incompetence at being alone in his friends' faces.

Judd chooses that specific moment to come back, his face a little paler than it was before, one hand over the speaker of his phone. “Marjan, can I please talk to you for a moment here? It’s quite urgent.” Marjan shares a confused glance with both Paul and TK. She must see something in Paul’s glance back, because she stands up and follows him without questioning.

“That was—” TK starts. “That was weird.”

“I don’t think so,” Paul retaliates as he shrugs nonchalantly. TK knows his manager and friend better than anyone gives him credit for, and he’s sure Paul’s as worried as he is. The question is whether or not they are worried about the same thing; in TK’s case, that Judd had seemed so shaken after talking to his wife that TK fears something bad has happened to the couple’s baby. “It must be some sort of security breach in the social media or something.”

“For real, Paul? That’s your take?”

“No,” Paul explains. “But if something’s wrong, they’ll tell us. I think Judd’s received some sort of bad news from Grace, and they most probably revolve around social media. Hence the need to talk to Marjan.”

“Without us?”

“Well, I doubt they need you to make it less complicated. You’ve done enough for one night,” Paul points out. “And Marjan knows I despise social media with a passion.”

TK purses his lips at Paul’s words, but when he’s about to launch into a tirade about how they should follow Judd and Marjan and find out what they’re talking about, his bodyguard and his social media guru walk back into the living room.

Marjan is waving her phone in front of him. "I've done a bit of digging, and it turns out you've picked a decent guy this time," she announces. She sits down once again on the couch, next to Paul, and while she shows TK her screen, she leans in to mutter something into Paul’s ear. It’s so low that it escapes TK’s hearing; when Paul nods curtly after his breath catches loudly in his throat, TK has the distinct feeling that he’s being kept out of a secret.

“What is it?” he tries to ask, but Paul cuts him off.

“You say he’s a decent guy?” he asks instead, recentering the focus of the conversation on Marjan once again instead of on what TK needs to ask.

"Out of the one hundred thousand potential dumpster fires," Judd mutters under his breath, loud enough for TK to catch it. He briefly wonders when the fine line between bodyguarding and mocking him was crossed; he thinks maybe sometime in the beginning, when Judd clocked in with a large lemon curd cake made by his wife.

“How on Earth have you been able to find anything so soon?” TK questions Marjan. This time, he picks a cushion off the couch and hugs it. He’d barely gotten to know Carlos for a couple of hours — the weirdest yet most amazing couple of hours of the past months — but apparently Marjan already has a file on him.

“Well, I’ve got a bit of help from Gra—” Marjan begins, only to stop herself from talking anymore when Judd comes back into the room, fixing her a sharp glare that doesn’t go unnoticed by TK. “You were gone for so long,” Marjan begins again, talking as she would to a toddler. “The websites have gone crazy with the photos from outside the ice cream parlor that, I may add, you fled, leaving Jonah and Enzo and Judd alone. I’ve just gone with what they’ve found out and researched further. And it's been really hard," she continues, undeterred. "This guy seems to be nonexistent on social media. Like, he doesn't even have an Instagram account.”

“That’s still scary.”

“Not scarier than a creep on a website finding out the name of your boy in less than five minutes. According to those vultures, he has a daughter. They’ve been discreet enough to leave her out of it. Nobody knows her name or how old she is, but soon enough she’ll be followed around by them.”

“Her name’s Leyre,” TK mumbles almost automatically. “Not sure of the spelling.”

Marjan punches a few things on her screen and comes up with something, which she triumphantly shows them all. “Your boy may not have any social media profiles, but his daughter made quite an impression two years ago on a Mathatlon. She was everywhere. Here," she stops for a full effect that falls flat when Paul arches an eyebrow at her and says nothing.

Huffing, she punches a few spots on her screen and grabs the remote, switching the channel until they are all watching her phone screen on the television. “Almost every local newspaper wrote about the girl who single-handedly won the competition when her teammates fell sick due to a weird stomach bug.”

Marjan sounds excited as she surfs through the different tabs in the browser. “See? Even the New York Times interviewed them. Here she is with her father. In this article they even talk about them as a family.” She points at a couple of lines in the article. “TK, you picked a decent single father with no criminal record."

“How on Earth,” TK repeats, “have you found all those things?”

"Do we know anything else?" Judd asks. He sounds professional, but there’s something off in the way he seems to be keeping himself from speaking too much — or too openly. TK is aware that he's actually filing every little detail for his background check on Carlos, since Judd is much more than his bodyguard — he's also his head of security, someone TK hadn't thought he'd ever need until one day when one of Alex’s fans got crazy and tried to assault him in broad light.

But it’s weird, the way they all seem to dodge his questions about how they’ve found out everything they already know.

"He's a teacher," Marjan continues. "Have yet to figure out where he teaches. But my bet is the same school the daughter attends."

"I doubt he’s going to be a problem," Paul states. "I say we call him here, see what he wants out of this. With a bit of luck, we’ll get an NDA signed and he will never talk about meeting you, if he even thought about it in the first place."

For a moment, TK is inclined to accept this scenario that Paul has set up in front of him — play it off and then deal with the fallout of Alex’s very public cheating on his own. But his track record of dealing isn't healthy; TK doesn't want to give in to the itch that's ever present beneath his skin, the need that's been threatening to take over his whole being ever since he learned about Alex and Mitchell.

He realizes that the only moments he hasn't felt the prickle of need have been those when he was staring into Carlos' warm eyes.

"Or," he says slowly, earning himself a look from everyone in the room. "Or we do nothing. Don't look at me like that," he continues, glaring at Paul. “Listen, we need to get a head start on this. We have to change the narrative. Alex thinks he can publicly humiliate me? Jesse Corbett thinks I can become his punchline? Let's prove them wrong. Let's prove everyone who's ever thought I was a joke wrong. Let's get out there and tell the world, I’ve been beaten down, but I will never be defeated."

“What is this, TK?” Paul fires back. “A late-night date with a complete stranger who doesn’t understand the hardships of being a celebrity? Rebound sex? Very public rebound sex?”

“We didn’t even—”

"You're crazy," Marjan intervenes with a raised voice. "You can’t seriously be thinking of pulling this guy into this circus. I get it, he’s nice and he’s hot, and it would’ve been amazing, if the paps hadn’t caught you. They’re going to eat him alive. There’s no way he’s going to want any of this. He’s a teacher. A hot one,” she concedes. “But he’s anonymous. He’s a normal guy.”

"TK," Paul tries to say. "Assuming this guy doesn't have a boyfriend or a life," he glares at Marjan when she pointedly coughs, "I'm not sure that's what we will be telling the world. Is this the message you want to send? My fiancé cheated on me so I fled the venue with a complete stranger on a whim?"

"You'll become an even funnier joke, TK," Judd tries to warn him, but TK closes his eyes and focuses on the memory of those eyes as the need to use grows inside of him.

And as the warmth that the memory of Carlos' smile spreads through his soul works magically to soothe him, TK knows he's not making a mistake this time.

"Call him," he commands. "Maybe this is exactly what we all need."

* ~ * ~ *

Carlos arrives at his apartment barely forty minutes later. Fortunately, there's nobody waiting for him outside with a camera and a microphone. He thanks the Lord above before scrambling his way up to his building's door. He knows Leyre won't be upstairs — Nancy has already confirmed that she's back at Tommy’s with the twins, as had been the plan before the night had derailed into something Carlos can't control anymore.

He leans against his front door once he closes it and has stepped inside his apartment.

He still isn't sure how he's made it out of Ms. Fa’s in one piece. He barely remembers the details after TK’s bodyguard all but sequestered the singer and took him away from Carlos. What he does remember, though, is standing in the middle of the restaurant, longing for more time to get to know the person behind the facade. And then turning to his phone and texting TK like the gentleman he is, making sure he’s going to be fine. At some point, with the paparazzi almost forcing their way into the restaurant to get a good glimpse at him and An keeping them outside and threatening to call the police, Carlos had found himself being guided through the restaurant to a backdoor by Ms. Fa, who also gave him a cap and a pat on the back before telling him in her broken English that he should come back soon.

He made his way back to his house on autopilot, trying to find the least busy streets and avoiding the main avenues until he reached his building. He wonders how the journalists might have found where they were so fast, but it's a thought that dies quickly as another one pops in his mind immediately, overtaking his whole body.

Leyre might have seen the pictures, if the vultures had already posted them. And, given the nature of the people featured in them, Carlos is pretty sure there's not a single soul in the States that hasn't heard of TK Strand’s late night date with a complete stranger on the same day he had his heart broken.

"What were you thinking, Reyes?" he chides himself. "You and your damned savior complex."

As if on cue, his phone starts blaring. He glares at it; he forgot to put it on silent before and now it's going to wake up the whole neighborhood. He glares even harder when he sees Nancy’s name on the screen.

He picks it up anyway.

"Do you know what time it is, Nance?"

"Apparently not late enough for you, you little Don Juan," she greets him cheerfully. "How was your night?"

"I hate you," he mumbles. "How much do you know?"

"Oh, you mean to ask if I already know about your little stint saving TK Strand of all people from being harassed by journalists outside the ice cream parlor we were all in? Because if it's that, then yeah, I already know. I called for the juicy bits!"

Carlos would laugh at her eagerness if the night hadn't been tainted by the events that led to TK being saved by someone else.

"There are no juicy bits, Nancy," he sighs into the phone. "Can we just leave this for tomorrow? We're meeting up for lunch anyway."

"Too bad I'm just outside your door," she sing-songs into his ear, at the same time as a tell-tale knock can be heard on his front door.

"You’re joking, right?"

"Open the door, Reyes," she says, loud enough that he hears it both through the speaker and from outside the door.

"You're going to wake Ms. Gints up," he complains and opens the door almost instantly. “You’re annoying, Nancy.”

“You should’ve thought it through better before renting an apartment in my same building,” she says as she steps into his apartment. “Now, I take it you haven’t seen the pictures yet, right?” When he shakes his head, Nancy walks over to the living room and searches for the remote. "It's all over the internet, dude."

"What's all over the internet?" Carlos asks dumbly. "It's three in the morning, who the hell is up at this ungodly hour doing whatever on the internet?”

“Paparazzi, that’s who,” Nancy warns him as she plugs the television in and uses his Chromecast to broadcast whatever she’s been watching on her phone. All of a sudden, there’s a ruckus of voices and shouts filling the space. Carlos flinches. “See? I never thought you’d have it in you to just elope with a celebrity.”

“We didn’t elope,” Carlos mumbles, snatching the remote out of Nancy’s hands and turning his television off. The silence falls upon them creepily after all the noise and the voices screaming TK, how are you feeling about the video? and Who's this mysterious guy? and Have you been cheating on Alex too?

“Well, you certainly didn’t think what that would look like when you escaped with TK Strand of all people in front of a crowd of photographers.” Nancy bows her head to the side to look at him. “How are we feeling about TK, by the way?”

“You know,” Carlos begins, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “You already consider him a ten. He is a ten. And I kinda can’t get him out of my head.”

Nancy squeals. “I’m so happy for you! Why don’t you ask him on a date? I mean, another date. I mean, I can’t believe I’m saying this about TK Strand. Have you even exchanged numbers?”

“Yes, we have, and I might ask him out?” Carlos shrugs. He doesn’t know where his boldness is coming from. “He’s sweet. But enough about this,” he says. “We need to sleep. We’re going to be late for our lunch date tomorrow.”

“But I want all the details!” Nancy pouts, but Carlos stands his ground. “Just a few?”

They end up being late for their lunch date with Tommy, Grace, and the girls.

They sleep through the alarm Carlos had set for showering and getting dressed, and since he has to wait for Nancy to grab a change of clothes from her apartment, they find themselves running through the streets of New York City on a Saturday morning, until they reach the open space where a few food trucks have been set up. Carlos runs a hand through his wild curls, trying to tame them before they set foot in the picket-fenced space. He can hear Leyre and the twins from a mile away, their loud voices filling his ears with laughter and warmth.

"Girls, you're going to wake Charlie up!" Grace's voice manages to be heard over theirs. "Tune it down a bit, please?"

"Look who's finally here," Tommy greets them with a smile. "We've ordered for you. You've taken your sweet time."

Carlos makes the rounds, dropping a kiss on Grace’s cheek and caressing Charlie's head.

"There was a lot to talk about," Nancy announces with a huff as she flops down beside Tommy on the bench. "I'm sure you'll want the details as well."

"Papi," Leyre calls him, standing up and hugging him. Carlos hugs her back after a few seconds' delay, surprised that she's displaying affection in public. "Is it true that you went on a date with TK Strand? Will you introduce me to him?"

"I see what this is about," he jokes. "The thing is, honey—"

"Remember what we talked about last night?" Tommy interrupts. "TK Strand is a person that deserves privacy as much as everyone else does. So does your father. I'm positive Carlos will share whatever it is to share in due time. Not a single second earlier, and definitely not because of any kind of pressure on our part."

He mouths, "I owe you," to his friend as her words sink into the girls' brains and their chatter resumes about something else entirely. Soon enough, they're distracted by whatever topic crosses their conversation, and the adults can attack their food freely.

After a few moments of just munching, Grace leaves her burrito on the tray and looks up at Tommy.

"You're right, T," she says. "When you said that bit about privacy. Everyone deserves that. And TK hasn't had privacy in way too long."

At first it doesn’t click in Carlos' mind, but as the words register he notices that the way Grace pronounces TK’s name is different from anyone else's. It's as though she's saying it with a warmth reserved for your loved ones.

"There's something I need to tell you," she continues. "It wasn't mine to tell, and it still isn't, but Judd’s told me it's okay, now. After, you know, you went out with TK."

“Why does it sound like you’ve got some juicy goss for us?” Nancy sits up, elbows on the table as she leans over the surface, clearly interested.

“That’s because I do,” Grace sighs. Charlie gurgles in her arms, and she takes a moment to rock her baby. “Remember when I told you Judd’s job for the past decade has been being a bodyguard?” Everyone nods; Carlos has the sinking feeling his world is about to be rocked in a less gentle way than Grace is rocking Charlie. Grace lowers her voice. “His client is TK Strand. Although, ‘client’ might be a bit too formal. He’s like the younger brother Judd never had.”

It’s a testament to how astonished the news leaves them that Nancy simply stares at Grace, mouth open, unable to say a thing. In true Tommy Vega’s fashion, she ushers the girls towards the counter to go get ice cream as dessert just to keep them from listening in. Carlos coughs into his hand as the words sink in his soul.

“You never thought of telling us you knew TK Strand?” Nancy finally screeches. “Help us get tickets to his shows? Introduce him to us?”

“It wasn’t her place to tell,” Tommy tries to explain to an outraged Nancy. “It wasn’t mine, either.”

“So you knew, too,” Nancy says dejectedly. “I suppose Evie and Izzie knew too, right?”

Carlos watches as Tommy sighs and shakes her head. “They’re only twelve,” she begins. “I’ve tried to keep them from magazines and stuff like that for as long as I could. But eventually I had to tell them, because her Uncle Judd kept being photographed with their favorite singer.”

“I’m still amazed at how well they’ve kept the secret,” Grace admits. “It seems they haven’t even told Leyre.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Nancy demands. “When were you planning to free your daughters from such a secret? Never?”

“I get it, Grace,” Carlos says in that particular moment. He doesn’t want Nancy to pick on Grace and Tommy for preserving the privacy of another human being; he kind of gets it, now. “And I thank you for telling us now. I guess it’s because of all the pictures floating around. I, uh, I’m not dating TK, and I know you know we didn’t know each other before last night, so it’s impossible for him to have been cheating on his ex-boyfriend with me.”

“I know all of that,” Grace smiles at him. “I know both of you. I’m just telling you now because things are going to get weirder the more you get to know TK, and I know you will. Get to know TK, that is. I’d be very surprised if you two haven't already been texting.”

“Yeah, multiple times,” Nancy snitches, apparently a little bit calmer now that Carlos has spoken. She still looks somewhat taken aback by the knowledge she’s just learned, but Carlos hopes it won’t taint their friendship with Grace — and with Tommy, who’s done nothing but protect her family through all this.

Just when Carlos is about to deny every charge, his phone chimes with a new text, earning him the amused looks of his three friends. He fishes it out of his pocket and checks the screen.

Wanna come to my place tomorrow? 9 am?

TK’s signed his text with a smiley and an address that sounds like it’s located on the other side of Central Park — the wealthier part.

“See what I mean?”

“He’s asking me to his place, tomorrow morning,” Carlos muses. “Before your minds go to the gutter, I doubt this is a booty call at nine in the morning.”

“He’s given you his address?” Grace leans in when Carlos shows off his screen. “Wow, that’s—that’s forward, even for TK. He must really like you.”

“Uh,” Carlos replies eloquently.

“I’ll go with you,” Nancy offers.

“I’ll tell the girls they can spend the whole weekend together at mine,” Tommy continues. “Give Leyre enough time to go back home and grab a change of clothes. They’ll be thrilled.”

“Will you tell Leyre that you knew TK all this time?” Carlos asks.

“Is that something you want me to do?” When Carlos shakes his head no, Tommy smiles. “Plus, I don’t know TK. We’ve only seen each other once or twice, and my daughters have yet to meet him. We wanted to wait until their celebrity crush dwindled down.”

“If they grow up to be anything like their Auntie Nancy,” Carlos points out with a chuckle, “that’s never going to happen.”

“Thanks for the trust,” Nancy huffs out. “I can be perfectly coherent while meeting my celebrity crush. I’ll prove it to you.”

“God help us,” Carlos mutters under his breath, earning himself a swat from Nancy.

“I’ll talk to Judd about this, make sure the gang doesn’t give you a hard time,” Grace finishes.

“So I’m doing this, huh?” Carlos asks rhetorically.

Nancy laughs at him, but before snatching a burrito right from under his nose, she lets her hand drop on his arm and her fingers squeeze tight, as if saying, I’ve got you.

Carlos has never been more grateful for his friends.

On Sunday morning, Carlos knocks on the door of the penthouse, Nancy by his side, and shuffles nervously from one foot to the other. He thought he’d be ready for this, but now that he’s actually waiting to be let into TK’s home, Carlos can’t help the anxiety building.

“It’ll be alright,” Nancy tells him. She squeezes his arm. “Just be yourself. It pretty much was enough last time you saw him.”

“Last time I saw him, I was saving him from the paparazzi,” Carlos mumbles. “It was—it felt different, that’s all.”

Before Nancy can say anything — undoubtedly some witty remark — the door flies open and the big guy who saved TK from the chaos at Ms. Fa’s restaurant stands in front of them. “Carlos Reyes,” he says, with a broad smile on his face. “And I guess you must be Nancy Gillian.”

“That we are,” Nancy says brightly. “You’re Judd, right? Grace’s husband?”

“That would be me.” Judd opens the door further and steps aside to let them in. “I couldn’t believe it when Gracie told me she knew you guys. The world’s a small place.”

“Small, indeed,” Carlos mutters as he enters. He can’t see TK anywhere, but there’s a sturdy man talking on a Bluetooth earpiece and pacing around what looks like the living room, and a woman in a hijab gesturing wildly while talking on her own earpiece. “So, uh—”

“Why don’t you just wait here?” Judd offers, signaling the couch in between the man and the woman talking on their phones. “Paul and Marjan will be with you in a moment. I’m going to fetch TK.”

“I’m going to fetch TK,” Nancy mouths at Carlos as Judd disappears through a corridor. He can tell she’s excited; she’s never met a celebrity before. Not that Carlos had before Friday night, but he’s way more invested in whatever this is because he’s already met TK and he knows he’s a normal guy despite all the hype around his image.

“Listen, Josie, I need to go now—we’ll see about that. Wait for my call. Bye.” The man seems to hang up his call and turns in time to see them both standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Oh, you’re already here!” he exclaims. “Please, take a seat. TK will be out any second. I’m Paul, Paul Strickland, TK’s manager. Can I offer you anything to drink? I think we have water, orange juice, apple juice.”

“Stop harassing our guests,” the woman interjects. She barks something into her earpiece before lifting one finger and applying a slight pressure on it. “Marjan Marwani. Don’t let Paul intimidate you.”

“He isn’t the one intimidating,” Nancy mutters, mostly to Carlos, who huffs out a laugh.

“Nice to meet you,” Carlos says, refraining from elbowing Nancy. “Carlos Reyes, but I bet you already knew that. This is Nancy Gillian.” He places a protective hand on the small of Nancy’s back, fully knowing that she doesn’t need any protection.

“Oh.” Paul frowns at them at the gesture. “I hadn’t realized you thought you’d need to bring your—friend? Girlfriend?”

“Ew, gross. No!” Nancy splutters. “We’re friends. I’m definitely not his type.”

“I had to ask,” Paul explains. “I didn’t want to assume anything, you know.”

“It’s okay,” Nancy assures him. “I’m the guidance counselor at the same school Carlos teaches at.”

“Good to know,” Marjan says. “Now, while we wait for Pretty Boy to show up, we would like to talk to you about going forward, Carlos.”

Carlos arches an eyebrow at her. He knew, coming here, that he would have to talk to TK’s team as well, but he thought he’d do it with TK, not without him. “I don’t think I understand. I came here—”

“—to talk to TK,” Paul finished for him. “But you also have to talk to us as well, and I’d rather tell you some things while TK’s getting ready. If that’s okay with you two.”

“That’s—that’s okay,” Carlos stutters.

“Two nights ago, we thought we were selling the world an amazing fairy tale,” Paul begins. “But that turned sour in no time. It felt like crashing an out-of-control car into a huge pile-up on the busiest road imaginable.”

“And you know what they say to do when your car's skidding out of control?” Marjan continues. Carlos thinks they’ve rehearsed this speech beforehand, they’re so in sync. “Close your eyes and pray? Nah. I say, hit the gas and turn into it.” When it’s evident that neither Carlos nor Nancy are following her train of thought, Marjan sighs exasperatedly and explains, “We're not selling the world a fairy tale. We're taking the fairy tale off the table. That's what you did when you saved TK from the paparazzi.”

“Look, uh, Marjan,” Carlos tells her. “I was just trying to help someone who seemed like they were in the middle of a nervous breakdown. We were being ambushed. I did what I thought was best at that moment. I wasn’t thinking about fairy tales or car pileups. It even took me a moment to recognize him, I’ve never been a fan!”

“TK Strand is a legend,” Marjan exclaims. Besides him, Nancy hums her approval. “At least for his fans, and for us. We’re his family, we’ve seen how far he’s come. He’s self-made. He rose from his own ashes and has been working nonstop to be the best at what he does. And he’s the best at what he does, but he’s too raw. Too sensitive. People love their artists to bare their souls, then vilify them if they go too far.”

“We’ve been working for the longest time to prevent the public, the press, from turning TK into a puppet they can mock,” Paul continues. “There are a lot of things you’ll need to know and understand, both from this kind of public life and from TK’s private life as well. But we’re willing to work with you. We’re asking you, Carlos Reyes, to help us.”

Carlos stares, agape, at both Paul and Marjan. When he’d received the text from TK telling him to come to this address at nine sharp on a Sunday morning, he hadn’t expected a full ambush to rope him into becoming part of the circus he suspects TK’s very public life to be. He had expected to talk to TK, see how the images of them both running away and fleeing the press in the middle of the street affected them, their families and their friends. Carlos isn’t sure he wants to sign up for whatever picture Paul and Marjan are painting right now.

As if sensing his discomfort, Marjan sighs and mutters, “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. Listen, Carlos,” she says out loud. “We just need three months of your life, okay? Just keep seeing TK for three months, let the paps take pictures of you together, while we mend TK’s image after what Alex did to him.”

“You need to mend TK’s image for something his shitty ex-boyfriend did,” Carlos repeats slowly. “What does TK think of this all?”

“He, uh—”

“What if we offered you money?” Marjan cuts Paul off. “What?” she snaps at Paul when he glares at her and Nancy huffs out a laugh. Carlos can only stare back at her in disbelief.

“That’s definitely the wrong approach with him,” Nancy says. “He won’t take money.”

“As if you would,” Carlos shoots back. “Is TK aware that you’re offering me money to be seen with him?” He’s feeling sick just from thinking about this. “I don’t know what I expected when I was told to come here today, but it definitely wasn’t this. I don’t know the kind of people who’ve usually approached him in the past, but I can tell you that offering money in exchange for a pretense of dating has a name. And I’m not up for that. TK, and anyone else for that matter, deserves to be respected, and accepting money for—offering money for—” he can’t even say the words, “—that’s disrespectful to both myself and TK.”

“Told you,” comes a voice behind him. “He was never going to fall for your trap, Paul.”

Carlos turns around to face TK, who’s leaning against a wall. His gray t-shirt is riding up his waist slightly, showing off a patch of skin. Carlos gulps. “What?”

“I said,” TK repeats as he walks further into the living room, “that I knew you weren’t going to fall for that.”

“Was all this a ruse?” Nancy manages to say. Carlos can tell, from the way her voice wavers by the end of the question, that she’s jittery just from having TK Strand in front of her.

“Let’s say it was a test,” Marjan tells them with a wink. “It’s not the first time a fan has approached TK and it ended up badly, and after the other night we just needed to be sure.”

“You just needed to be sure,” Carlos repeats slowly. He doesn’t think his mind is registering what’s happening.

“They needed to make sure you weren’t going to sell me to the press,” TK explains. “It was kind of very coincidental that I found your wallet and then you saved me from the paps, only for them to show up later on at Ms. Fa’s.”

Carlos shakes himself off his stupor at TK’s last words. He can’t even begin to imagine what kind of life TK has led — what kind of acquaintances he’s made over the years, before and after becoming famous — that he feels the need to ensure that anyone new coming into his life is worthy of his trust. He thinks it’s sad that TK’s grown so wary of people; a surge of protectiveness shoots up from his gut to his heart, making him wonder how he can help TK to feel better about his relationships.

“What kind of boyfriends have you had?” Nancy voices what Carlos himself has been thinking. “I know about the cheating kind, but there’s also a shitty kind of boyfriend who’s sold you to the paps?”

TK recoils at her words, but it’s Paul who answers. “We stopped it in time,” he simply says, offering no other explanation.

“Look,” Carlos starts, clearing his throat. “I’m not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you’re not into it. We just met. I thought it was a meet cute. I’d love to keep knowing you. But I have a daughter. I don't want to drag her into the middle of a circus.” He can tell the moment his words register in TK’s mind from the way his shoulders slump forward. “It’s not my intention to sell you out to the press, either. Can we just find some common ground? Away from the media frenzy?”

It feels weird enough to be discussing this in front of strangers — not that Carlos ever thought he’d be talking about how paparazzi could affect his dating life with someone he isn’t even dating to begin with — but it also feels kind of fitting when TK’s face lights up. “I think we can manage that,” he offers. “We’ve been doing that with Jo—with my brother, so he can keep his privacy. I think we could manage that with you as well.”

“Not after the stunt you pulled two nights ago, we can’t,” Marjan points out. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“I’d love to know how they’ve found out,” Carlos muses. “I’m not a big social media person. I feel it’s a distorted reality. I see it all the time in my students.”

“And yet you let your daughter be interviewed by the New York Times,” TK teases him. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Apparently it was a big story! Marjan can find anyone online, and it helped that you’d shared your daughter’s name with me.”

“Meanwhile, I have yet to find out your brother’s name,” Carlos teases right back. “Although, seeing how I don’t even know what TK stands for, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Oh, nobody knows,” Judd says, coming to the living room all of a sudden. “It’s kind of a big secret. TK, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your father’s on the line. There’s only so many updates on Charlie that I can share with him before he remembers he called to talk to you.”

Judd’s words seem to unchain a ripple effect, and Paul’s phone begins chiming at the same time as Marjan’s blows off. Nancy chuckles at the chain reaction while Carlos shakes his head. TK takes the few steps keeping him from Carlos and squeezes his shoulder almost shyly. "This is a crazy life I'm roping you into," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

"I'm a middle school teacher," Carlos winks at him. "I'm used to crazy."

TK winks at him before turning around and bolting out of the living room. Carlos turns to Nancy, who’s looking at him with a weird glint in her eyes, and says, “I’d kill for that orange juice.”

She bursts into laughter.