Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sand crunches softly beneath Marzia’s feet, warm to the touch under the autumn sun, the sky itself a hazy mosaic of pinks and yellows and reds and blues. She breathes in, the air thick with saltwater and the restlessness of the ocean; it sticks to her skin, wrapping around her like a long-missed hug.

Eleven years. Eleven years. That’s how long her and Felix have been together. How long they’ve stood beside one another, their hands and hearts linked together. How long they’ve loved each other -- unconditionally, completely, endlessly.

Yonaha Maehama Beach, though its people have grown older, still looks the same. The dark waves, shining like crystals in the dying sunlight, still hit the rocky shore. The wind, a whisper of an unheard melody against the sand drifts, still leaves Marzia storm-struck.

This place hasn’t changed. But Marzia has.

Marzia can’t quite remember the last time she had been here; it’s a murmur of a memory that she doesn’t want to indulge in -- the edges painted black by darker times. Back when Marzia was making YouTube videos, slowly losing a part of herself, falling deeper and deeper into a place she couldn’t come back from. Back when Marzia was hiding herself from the people she cherished, drifting away from what she loved till her chest felt hollow and empty. Back when everything seemed so wrong.

Felix and Marzia have been in Japan for about two weeks now, along with their friends -- PJ, Ken, Emma. They spend most of that time in the brightly-lit capital of Tokyo, sight-seeing the famous parts of each district, enjoying the local delights the streets had to offer, and traveling to the more obscure corners of the city -- eating, drinking, laughing. It reminds Marzia of one of her and Felix’s previous trips to Japan, where Felix proposed to her. Every night, she goes to bed exhausted, falling asleep in her husband’s arms, but she can’t shake the smile off her face.

PJ and his wife, Sophie, help with planning their more fancier excursions: meeting with famous Japanese artists, going to expensive and ritzy restaurants, spending the day in exclusive clubs. Emma sometimes spends the day by herself, wandering off to different beauty stores or meeting up with other makeup artists in the city. She always came back before Marzia began to really worry -- though she tended to worry anyway -- and with her were bags filled with items she purchased.

Sometimes, Marzia drags Felix off to do their own thing too, though he never protests. They spend starless nights on the town together, hand in hand, cozied up in worn and welcoming shops, hidden in the cracks of side-streets that usually only the locals know of. Every so often, Felix vlogs their nights out and Marzia poses for the camera, but for the most part, it’s just the two of them.

The group spends their last week of the trip outside of Tokyo, leaving the city behind till the next adventure arises. Felix and Marzia are particularly fond of Okinawa, the island holding a special place in their grateful hearts. That last time they had been there was almost half a decade ago. Oh, how much they have changed since then? How much has she changed?

They all situate themselves in a house near the ocean. The floors creak with each step and gusts of ocean wind dance through the open windows. They’re all seated in the kitchen. Ken and PJ are loudly discussing something over the shrill sound of the cooker. Sophie is running to the oven, waving her hands in front of her as dark smoke rises; she quickly takes out whatever she’s cooking, checking to see if there’s something salvageable from the burnt meal. The TV is blaring in the background, Emma clicking through channels.

It’s a bit overwhelming. So that’s why Marzia isn’t exactly surprised when she looks over and Felix is nowhere to be seen.

Marzia doesn’t know when she started doing this -- always seeking Felix out. Whenever she walks into a room, she looks for him. Makes sure that he’s okay and happy, that nothing bad has happened. It feels like a part of her can’t breath when she doesn’t; it’s an ache in her chest that doesn’t go away.

And that’s how Marzia finds herself strolling on the soft sand dunes of Yonaha Maehama Beach, the sun rushing towards the horizon. She can see her husband in the distance; Felix is turned away from her, staring at the endless water as the pastel sky washes over him. He looks relaxed, his blue eyes closed and his hands sifting through the grains of sand next to him.

Felix is beautiful.

Marzia sits down next to Felix, breathing in the salty wind as the waves lap at her feet. She can barely hear Felix shifting beside her over the waves rolling onto the shore. Felix doesn’t look at her when he speaks. “Sorry for leaving, Mertz. I just- sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Fele,” Marzia says, resting her head on Felix’s shoulder and wrapping her arms comfortably around him. “I get it. Really, I do. It can be a lot.”

Felix nods slightly as not to jolt Marzia’s head. “You didn’t have to leave to come find me.”

Marzia scoffs playfully. “Like I was going to stay there.” They sit there in silence for a moment.

“Remember when we went to Japan four years ago?” Felix asks suddenly.

She nods. “Of course. You proposed to me on that trip.”

Felix doesn’t say anything after that, content with letting the shadows of the ocean lap at his feet. Marzia doesn’t push him, returning to the silence as she sits beside her husband. His breathing is low and steady -- tired almost. After a few minutes he speaks again. “What do you think our future holds?”

The question surprises Marzia and she isn’t quite sure what to say. “I’m not sure.”

“Guess? Anything?”

She sighs and thinks about what to say next. “We’ll still live in a nice house with Edgar. And we’ll spend more time with our friends… we’ll try new foods and start new business ventures and learn new hobbies and do the things we love and travel the world.”

Felix's chuckle is short -- a staccato note. “I’ve always loved your wanderlust.”

Marzia looks at Felix. Really looks at him. “Felix, we can’t know our own future.”

“I know. I know,” he repeats to himself. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Well,” Marzia starts. “No matter what happens, I will always be there with you.”

Felix leans down to kiss her and Marzia is fondly reminded of a time when she was too shy to kiss Felix, only barely pecking him on the cheek when he leaned in. His lips feel warmer than the sunset and softer than the sand. Felix moves closer to her, deepening the kiss as he wraps his arms around her waist.

They’re together. Safe. Content.

Home.

Marzia’s family greets them with open, loving arms. Her mother’s soft brown hair is graying and her father’s eyes crinkle every time he laughs. Her younger brother, Davide, has children -- a girl and a baby boy -- Marzia hasn’t seen in what feels like forever and her younger cousins are dating people she hasn’t ever met. The evening is a wonderfully overwhelming whirlwind of hugs and stories and her mother’s delicious Italian food.

It hurts to be away from her friends and family, living in a different country -- valleys, mountains, and water between them. It would hurt more to be away from Felix.

“Mettilo giù!” Marzia’s mother, Franca, yells at Felix, swatting his hand away from the bruschetta with a wooden spoon. Marzia can understand why Felix would want to grab a few; her mother’s cooking is the best. She can smell the delicious aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and bread wafting from the kitchen, mixing with the rest of the food she is making.

Marzia inherited a lot from her mother -- fashion and cooking. When she was little, Marzia would spend hours in her mother’s closet, trying on her clothes, prancing around as though she were on a fashion runway. The colors of the cloth were vibrant and luscious and the fabric itself felt soft to the touch, like silk against her skin. She’d mix and match the clothes, which were so big they could hardly stay on her lithe shoulders. Marzia fell hopelessly in love with the color pink. No, not neon pink. The blush kind -- faint and dusty and oh, so pretty.

And cooking. Marzia could spend hours in the kitchen, trying different recipes and adding her own touch to old ones. Usually Marzia would help her mother with dinner, either chopping vegetables or stirring ingredients as they simmer in the pot, but her mother insisted that she sit and relax.

Felix puts his hands up in surrender when Franca yells something else in Italian. Felix doesn’t fully understand Italian and Franca can’t speak English, but they both have some language between them. And Franca thinks the more she yells in Italian, the more her son-in-law will understand what she’s trying to say. It works… slightly.

Marzia is curled up next to her nephew, listening to him ramble about something he saw on TV. Davide and his wife and coddling the newest addition to their family, cooing in her ear as she giggles. Her father, Marziano, lets out a gruff chuckle as Felix almost gets swatted again. The air is warm, like a thick blanket around her, and the chatter of her family is a sweet melody in her ear. Marzia does as her mother tells her and relaxes.

The lines to Meet and Greets are always long -- exhaustingly so. PewDiePie’s events, along with anything he did with his YouTuber friends usually took up the entire day; it’s a lot to organize and deal with. Picture after picture, smile after smile, Felix is sure he looks dead in about half the photos taken of him. It turns out playing video games has another use because after so many signatures, his hands don’t hurt nearly as much as they should. By the end, Felix just wants to curl up into a ball and sleep for an eternity, but the thought of disappointing his fans like that feels even worse.

Marzia’s in one of the backrooms. Mark and Jack are somewhere in the venue too. The trio had met up earlier, catching up while they could. It could be hard to stay in touch; they all live in different times zones and lead such busy lives. It felt good to laugh with his friends though. Felix can’t see them now, lost amongst the hoards of animated people, but he does hear someone yell “Green PewDiePie!”

Felix glances around the crowd, not quite hearing anything over the steady buzz of chatter; moments of calm, where he’s not talking to anyone, are few and far between. Felix spots a few fans wearing fake PewDiePie merch. Those poor souls.

Another fan quickly approaches his table. She’s round-faced and young -- probably a teenager. Her green eyes shine with excitement, a nervous grin painted on. It almost looks as though she’s bouncing up and down where she stands, Felix can’t tell from which emotion. Her nails, mostly scratched off except for a glittery blue still gleaming in the room’s fluorescent lights, pick apart the bottom of her sweater -- PewDiePie’s iconic 100 million subscriber merch.

“What’s up, bro?” Felix smiles, trying not to show just how exhausted he is. His smile feels too wide.

“Oh my God, hi! My name’s Emilia. I am such a big fan! I’ve watched you for years,” Emilia greets. She’s holding his book tightly against her chest, cradling it like it’s something precious to her. They chat for a bit and Emilia begins to look more comfortable, but she still has stars in her eyes.

One of the people working at the venue steps forward and Felix knows their time is coming to a close. He hates that he gets such little time with each fan, but there are so many people to get through. So. Many. The venue worker begins to usher Emilia out when Felix says, “before you go, let’s take a picture!”

For a moment, Felix wonders if Emilia is going to faint, before she rushes to his side and whips out her phone. She hands it to the worker, who doesn't look pleased at all. He takes exactly one photo before clearing his throat and ushering her out of the line again. It’s good enough for Emilia, who takes one look at the phone, says goodbye, and then yells out a meme from 2014 before rushing out.

Felix has a feeling he is going to see that picture on his subreddit. And then the next fan steps up. And Felix smiles again.

Felix has grown to love the color pink.

It is in everything he sees.

It is blush painted on Marzia’s cheeks, after a winter morning -- cold and bitter -- at home, walking Edgar through the park, hues of frost hanging from the trees. It is cherry blossoms in spring, caught in the D.C. wind, falling softly on their hair as they roamed the streets of America’s capital. It is summer sunrises, light scattering across the sky, cotton-candy clouds rolling across the limitless canvas.

It is as calm as the morning ocean, pushing and pulling -- a quiet dance to a melody unheard. It is comforting, not burning, but warm and fuzzy and safe. It is dear, sweet Maya: innocent, compassionate, friendly, a beloved companion. It is something precious, a treasure.

It is what love feels like.

It is sweet like raspberry chocolate and it is the smell of azaleas after it rains. It is the touch of satin silk and it is the whisper of childhood lullabies.

It is the sound of Marzia’s voice -- high and honeyed. A melody, a quiet note, a few faint chords, a burst of trills, a demanding crescendo, a thundering arpeggio. The sound of Mertz’s voice.

A sound like autumn chimes.

Marzia presses her lips against Felix’s ear, murmurs his name, links their fingers together. “What is it?”

He doesn’t know where to start. “I don’t know.” The words don’t sound right, like sharp notes in a lullaby chord. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sunlight dances in her hair. She urges him to continue.

“This- my videos. None of them feel right.” Felix feels like he has glass in his throat. “It always sounds so selfish when I say it. I just- they’re so exhausting to make. Like I’m trying so hard for nothing.”

“Wanting to be happy isn’t selfish, Felix.”

“You’re right.”

“If you don’t enjoy the videos you’re making, then change what you’re doing,” Marzia says, resolve coating her words.

“Thanks, Mertz.”

Edgar Allan Pug -- Edgar for short -- is a demon pug. That’s just simple fact. And Felix and Marzia love him with all of their hearts. Even if he can never sit still and growls at nothing and constantly yips at people walking by and listens to no one and-

Well, they could probably go on forever.

But he’s a good pug… deep down. Deep, deep down.

Edgar is enjoying his afternoon. He’s sitting on the couch, basking in the sunlight streaming from the windows. His owners are out doing something… it doesn’t matter. Edgar is fine -- for now. Later, he’s going to beg for attention for hours on end.

They are going to love it.

Felix and Marzia come back a few hours later. Marzia’s voice is light with pure happiness. And Felix’s smile tells the same story.

“Guess who’s getting a baby brother or sister?” Marzia squeals in delight, picking up Edgar in her arms and twirling him around. He whines.

“Yeah, and this time it’s human,” Felix says, patting the pug on the head.

Marzia turns to look at Felix. “Did you hear the doctor say the due date is around October 23rd?”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, October is busy enough for us. What’s another birthday?”

Marzia puts Edgar back down on the couch and turns to walk towards the kitchen. Felix follows suit. They’re talking excitedly, Marzia moving her hands animatedly as Felix nods along, a saccharine smile on his face.

Their conversation gives Edgar enough time to start eating a pillow. Cotton from the furniture is furiously yanked out, now strewn about on the floor in an unkempt mess.

“Deutschland!” Felix yells. Edgar doesn’t want to stop yanking but he does… he should take a nap in the middle of their bed.

Marzia wraps her arms around Felix’s shoulders. “I’ll clean this up before bed.”

“Don’t worry, Mertz. Hopefully our child won’t do this.”

There’s an ache in Marzia’s bones that doesn’t go away. Her muscles are pulled tightly from nausea and her mind foggy from exhaustion. She knew that pregnancy wasn’t going to be easy, but experiencing it is an entirely different matter. Felix would always say she is beautiful, that she is glowing like the sun, but Marzia doesn’t feel particularly beautiful when she's curled over the toilet vomiting as Felix holds her hair and rubs circles down her back.

It’s a late Tuesday afternoon and Felix is finishing recording his latest video. Marzia giggles as his laughter and shouting echo through their house -- Edgar whines at her feet.

Marzia’s stomach rumbles and she puts her book down; she knows she should start cooking dinner soon, but it’s become such a daunting task -- it’s overwhelming. The smallest smells set her off and then she’s stumbling to the bathroom. She alternates between the thought of food making her sick and craving the weirdest combinations of it. Never before has red velvet cake and pickles sounded appealing.

She hears the door to Felix’s recording room shut before he makes his way into their shared living space. He falls onto the couch adjacent to her, propping his feet on the coffee table. “Brad’s gonna hate editing this footage,” Felix chuckles. Marzia hums in response. She closes her brown eyes and yawns, resisting the urge to throw the book across the room. Maybe that would offer some sense of relief.

“You look tired,” Felix says suddenly, lifting his head from the throw pillows. “Do you need to rest?”

Marzia shrugs. “Maybe… probably,” she agrees, rubbing her shoulders. “Ugh, my head hurts.”

“You’ve been so tense for the past few days,” Felix replies. He sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Here. I’ll rub your shoulders. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable then.”

“That would be amazing,” Marzia says. She sets down the book she was trying to read and gets up to join Felix on the couch. He helps her get settled on the couch. Usually whenever he gave Marzia massages, it was right before bed, once they’d already changed into their nightwear. His wife often asked for them and Felix couldn’t bring himself to say no. She’d lie on her stomach, Felix soothing her aching joints with sweet smelling oils.

Marzia’s already on the couch and he doesn’t want to move her. Felix silently decides that he can offer her a proper massage before bed tonight. He rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Marzia giggles slightly at his choice of clothing -- his 70 million subscriber merch. It’s an old sweater and his sub count is well over twice that now, but it’s still very comfortable. Marzia is clutching one of the pillows on the couch, Felix holding her up with his hands.

His fingertips lightly touch the small of Marzia’s back. She shivers, hiding her blush in the pillow. He slides his palms up her back, applying pressure against her warm skin. Marzia hums sleepily, falling into Felix’s touch. He kneads her shoulders, pressing his fingers into her tight muscles. His breath is hot against her neck.

Felix falls into a rhythm, palming at the muscles that are wound up. He works at the kinks in her back and the knots in her shoulder pressing and pressing till they come undone. Marzia’s eyes are closed and for a moment, Felix wonders if she has fallen asleep.

“That good?” He asks.

Marzia hums in response and Felix continues on. Her back is beginning to turn a light pink from the strength of Felix’s hands. She can barely feel any stress in her body now. Felix’s arms are starting to hurt, aching from holding them up for so long. He doesn’t stop until Marzia speaks.

“Thank you, Fe,” Marzia says softly.

He smiles, squeezing her waist and tucking her head under his chin. “Anything for you.”

They don’t say anything for a while, letting the silence rest between them. Marzia curls into his body.

“We could order pizza,” Felix suggests. Marzia scrunches her nose. “Or not.”

“Cake and pickles!” Marzia giggles, her voice higher with mirth.

Felix pauses and then laughs along with his wife. “I mean- okay, woman. I’ll get that and then keep the pizza far away from you.” Marzia agrees and honestly, nothing sounds better than that.

Felix and Marzia are on vacation in Japan. His wife is wearing a floral dress -- pink and black -- that hangs elegantly off her body. She’s showing but it’s hard to see underneath her matching jacket. They walk down the neon-lit street together, hand in hand. Felix records as Marzia waltz’s off to chat with a vendor.

“God, what a loser,” Felix jokes. The camera captures his smile.

“So, she’s learning Swedish first, right?”

“No. She’s going to learn Italian.”

It’s startling just how much baby Luna is like her father. She may have Marzia’s dark tresses, but that’s about where the similarities end. As Marzia holds the child -- her child -- in her arms, all she can think is Felix. They have the same impossibly blue eyes -- as vast as the sea and as dark as summer rain. When Marzia coos at Luna, she giggles with Felix’s laugh, grinning with her husband’s same grin.

Warmth overwhelms Marzia. This sort of love is different. It’s not the love she holds for her parents or her brother. And it’s not the love she holds for Felix. This love is different. Terrifying. To love so completely and to protect with all she has in her soul. Marzia wasn’t sure of a many things in her life, but as she gazes at Luna -- finally sound asleep in her arms -- she is certain she has never loved so fiercely before. With a depth the moon and stars could not begin to understand.

And as Luna’s tiny legs squirm, Marzia’s heart swells.

Marzia has many worries as a new parents. Is she doing what is best for her child? Is she raising her right? Is she helping her? Is she protecting her? Is she doing enough? Marzia knows Felix shares these same worries, but Marzia has always been a worrier. That’s just who she is.

“Don’t worry, if there are any problems, then we can send her to the ranch.” Felix is joking, obviously, and Marzia is quick to roll her eyes. And it can be her little secret if she worries a little less after that.

Luna is in her terrible twos. And the twos sure are terrible.

Yesterday, she took crayons and drew all over the walls leading to the bathroom. Felix doesn’t even know where she got the crayons. She throws a fit whenever Edgar leaves the room -- like Felix can control when that happens. She starts wailing when Marzia wears her hair up. Biting, kicking, scratching over anything. And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.

When was the last time Felix slept?

Luna does like music. She’ll sit still when her father plays the guitar for her. Felix hasn’t practiced in a while. He knows he sounds rusty. He knows his pauses are too long between notes and a quarter of said notes are out of tune. But Luna likes it and that’s all that Felix really cares about.

Felix is getting much better at the guitar too, his songs becoming more complex and his technique improving tremendously. Luna claps along happily to the thrum of the instrument. Felix is playing a classic for her. The melody is catchy and she giggles as he hums the lyrics. Edgar looks on bored, sitting on his throne that is the living room couch. Felix starts to play louder once he gets to the chorus, swaying to the rhythms he’s creating.

Marzia walks into the room. She stares at him. She stares at Luna. She stares at him again. “Felix, is that bitch lasagna.” For some reason, Felix feels like Marzia isn’t asking him a question.

“Language!” He gasps. He’s still strumming on the strings of the instrument. “There are children present.”

“Yes,” Marzia nods along. “You are the child.”

Oof.

People can hear Luna giggling in the background of one of his videos and the entire internet has a field day. Every single comment is about Luna -- on every single platform. There are multiple video-hosting websites now and though YouTube is still popular, there are other services people use. The video is of him reviewing a subreddit. And now, his own subreddit is being spammed with memes and artwork.

“Look,” Felix says to Marzia, pointing to his computer screen. “There are like a hundred petitions to have Luna host something.”

“This is like when the internet found out Luna was born.”

“That was worse, I think.” Felix suddenly feels a little more grateful. “What will Luna think when she finds out about all this?”

Marzia shrugs. “Well she knows that you make videos and that people know who you are.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t understand this.” Felix gestures to his video-making setup.

“We’ll just have to wait until she’s old enough,” Marzia replies. “Luna thinks it’s cool now. I think she likes the camera. She always asks for you whenever she sees one of your videos.”

That makes Felix pause. “Who the hell is showing her my videos?”

“PJ. Don’t worry, nothing inappropriate,” Marzia replies. “It’s very cute though.”

Felix is still concerned about the fact that apparently little Luna has watched some of his videos, but he has to agree with his wife.

“Pappa,” Luna says, tugging at Felix’s shirt. “W-when am I gonna get the pictures?” She pauses on her words, stumbling over letters she can’t quite pronounce yet.

“What do you mean, lilla gumman?” Felix crouches down so he’s at eye level with his daughter. He can’t believe how old she’s gotten -- though four isn’t exactly old. But Felix could swear just yesterday he was chasing after his toddling girl and only days before, cradling her in his strong arms.

Luna points to his arms -- his tattoos. “When will I get them?” He and Marzia do have quite a few tattoos between them and it never struck him that he would need to explain them.

Felix chuckles. “When you’re much, much older.”

“L-like on my birthday?”

“If you want. They don’t show up, Luna. You have to go to someone to get them done,” Felix explains. “And you can pick out whatever pictures you want.”

Luna beams up at her father. “I’m going to get a picture of you and me and mammina.”

“Okay, maybe not that.”

Felix cooks Swedish meatballs.

Luna says she doesn’t like them very much.

Felix gasps in horror.

Felix has to attend a parent-teacher meeting at Luna’s pre-prep school. Him and Marzia have been educating her on their own, alongside her schooling, and they couldn’t be more proud of her. Felix can already tell she’ll be a lot smarter than he is -- or maybe that’s the parent in him talking.

Luna’s recently started Year One. Felix remembers her very first day of school, Luna sobbing big, fat tears as her parents tried to say goodbye. They stayed for half an hour, trying to get Luna to calm down until her wailing turned to whimpering, and a teacher grabbed her Teen Titans backpack while shuffling her to the nearest room. Now, she hardly sniffled.

That tugs at Felix’s heart. It sounds so… ugly to say he misses the days when Luna begged for her father to go everywhere with him. But she’s growing up so fast. So, so fast. He can’t keep up. Just yesterday, he could swear Luna was toddling around the living room taking her first steps, Edgar sniffing at her heels.

And now, she runs with a wild abandon, not looking back to see if her father is close enough to catch her when she falls.

Luna’s teacher is dedicated. She handles each child with care, understanding, and patience. Firm in her discipline and kind in all else. Her teacher, Ms. Sam, insists on one parent-teacher meeting each month.

Felix is sitting in front of the desk in her office, in a seat that’s a little too small, as Ms. Sam shuffles through some papers. There are posters plastered on the walls with cute animals and motivational sayings. There’s a bookshelf in the corner of her office with an entire row dedicated to Amelia Bedelia. Felix has horrific flashback to when he was in school. Sweden has a different education system, but no matter the country, school traumatizes students in the same way. Felix shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Ms. Sam finally settles down with a file on her desk. Though upside-down, Felix reads that it’s labeled as ‘Luna Kjellberg.’

“So, uh… Mr. Kuh-jellborg, is it?”

“... Close enough.”

They talk for about ten minutes. Ms. Sam explaining how Luna is behaving in the classroom, what she is learning, what she is showing her interest in -- beauty video games. An interesting combination of both her parents.

“I have to say that Luna is a brilliant student. So curious and inquisitive, she’s got a good head on her,” Ms. Sam finishes. “She’s going to do great in her next year of school.”

Felix couldn’t be more proud.

Felix hasn’t cut his hair in ages. His blonde locks fall to his chin, framing his face like some sort of unkempt halo. It reminds him of the cut he had in his early twenties, bangs mussed up and in desperate need of a comb. And Felix has a beard now too. Marzia once jokingly said he looked like a caveman.

It happens at a normal Wednesday afternoon. Felix spent the morning on call with his sponsor, trying to work out the details of his next trip, while Marzia and Luna take Edgar to the vet. His family is back by the time Felix leaves his office, Marzia cooking Luna her lunch. She gives him one look.

“Felix, we need to do something about this,” Marzia says, gesturing to him. She puts a plate of food in front of Luna. Felix pretends to look confused.

He shrugs. “I dunno what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Nope,” Felix insists again. “No idea, Mertz.”

Luna shakes her head with a little ‘nuh-uh.’ Marzia tucks her hair behind her ear before it can fall in her food.

Felix looks completely affronted at his daughter’s horrendous accusations. He gasps dramatically. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Mammina is always right,” Luna grins, appearing all too pleased with herself. Marzia pats her head fondly, whispering ‘good girl’ louder than necessary.

Felix leans in closely, his hair brushing against his wife’s cheek as he murmurs in her ear. “Have you been brainwashing our child?”

“Is it for the memes, Fe?” Marzia asks.

“No, all the hair memes have been dea- asleep for a while,” Felix responds, sitting down beside his daughter at the kitchen table. “In this house, we don’t bother with asleep memes.”

“You still talk about T-Series,” Marzia shoots back. Luna isn’t quite sure what her parents are talking about, but she nods along with every word her mom says.

“That wasn’t just a meme. That was a w-a-r.”

Marzia shakes her head, mirth in her eyes. She sits down on the other side of Luna -- Edgar jumps in her lap. They talk with their daughter as she finishes up eating. More food seems to end up on Luna’s cheeks and on the table instead of in her mouth. Felix wipes his daughter’s face with a napkin, while she hurries to play with her toys, Marzia cleaning up the counter.

“Okay, Fe. We’re going to cut your hair right now,” Marzia insists. She’s already walking to her drawer to take out the scissors and Felix knows he won’t be getting out of this. Marzia has cut his hair before and she’s always done a good job. Except for that one time -- no one talks about that one time.

Marzia always tells him how much Luna is like him: the same looks, the same mannerisms, the same ardent passion for life. And Felix sees it too. But he sees Marzia too. Especially in moments like this, where Luna plays near them, her brown hair tucked behind her ear on one side, setting up a wonderful fashion show for Edgar. Luna’s eyebrow quirks the same way Marzia’s does as she tries to find the right sweater her doll needs.

Felix sits stiffly in his seat and Marzia snips away at each strand. The blonde hair slowly falls to the ground around him as Marzia cuts more and more. The comb caresses his scalp as she runs it through his hair; he relaxes under her touch. She usually leaves him with bangs in the front, the underside of his head a little shorter. There’s so much hair on the floor. Did he really let it get this long?

Will his fans make memes about his short hair now? Probably.

Suddenly, they hear a loud bang.

Half of Luna’s dolls are strewn about on the ground as Luna tuts her head softly above them. One doll, with blonde hair and too large brown eyes, still stands on the ‘fashion runway,’ the rest looking helplessly from below.

“What happened, tesoro?” Marzia asks. After combing through Felix’s hair one last time, she puts the brush down and stares at Luna’s mess. Marzia is quirking her eyebrow that same way.

Luna heaves a sigh. “Destiny kissed Piper’s boyfriend during the show. There was a fight.” Luna holds up the blonde-haired doll, triumphantly. “She won.” Edgar attempts to chew Destiny.

Felix chuckles, his eyes shining with mirth. “Yeah, Destiny had it coming.”

Tonight, Edgar sleeps at the foot of their bed. He tries to take up the entire bottom half of the bed, his body curling into Felix’s legs as he lightly rests his head on Marzia’s torso. Edgar’s breathing is deep and peaceful, not the terrifying whimpers he wheezes out when he gets up too fast or runs too quickly; the black pug is still a young pup at heart.

Even if the hair on Edgar’s chest has begun to whiten and his body seems to creak every time he hobbles over to Felix, he still jumps at their feet and yips at the door, begging for attention and an endless amount of love. Felix often jokes to Marzia that they spoil their demon dog far too much; Marzia laughs and agrees, but they never stop. They probably go to the vet at least once a week now and Edgar looks more and more worn with each visit.

Old age has not treated Edgar nicely, but he has a wonderful family to help him. Felix sits Luna down and tries to explain why Edgar can’t play much as he used to anymore. She nods her head and turns to the pug, who’s trying to make a mess of a pillow in the living room, sympathy alight in her blue eyes. Later, Felix finds Luna sitting down on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals and Edgar -- poor, old Edgar. He watches on as his daughter plays vet, instructing the stuffed animals on what operations to give Edgar and sticking a bandaid to his left paw.

Felix doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s not going to help.

Marzia is taking it hard. Really hard. They already lost Maya, the sweet light-coated pug, a number of years ago. Already missing one eye and then having gone blind in the other, her health couldn’t keep up with her. Felix always wishes Luna got to meet Puga-chan.

“Come here,” Felix whispers in the darkness of dusk. Marzia’s back it towards him; her shoulders are hunched, her face resting on her hands.

After a moment of silence, Marzia shuffles over, careful not to disturb Edgar. He huffs lightly, but his eyes don’t open and he doesn’t move in protest. “I’m scared, Fele,” Marzia says. She can’t bring herself to look at him. “I… I’m scared.”

Felix isn’t quite sure what to say. They’ve talked about this before. It will happen any day now. And he wishes it wouldn’t, with all his heart, he wishes. “Do you want to talk about it again?”

He can feel Marzia shake her head.

“Go to sleep, Mertz. Everything will be alright,” Felix finally says.

Edgar doesn’t wake up in the morning.

The pallor of her skin, almost sickly in the light of the crescent moon, immediately pulls Felix from his drowsiness. Her face is pulled tight in pain. Marzia whimpers in her sleep, knitting her brows together. Her muscles tighten.

Her wavy brown hair is tossed across her pillows her, framing her face contorted in misery; sweat is beading down her brow, standing out against the sick shine of her skin.

“Marzia,” Felix whispers in a panicked voice. He shakes her, trying to pull her from her sleep. Marzia has gotten sick before, especially in the first few years of their relationship, but it’s been so long since. His chest quakes with concern.

With the help of Felix’s insistent shaking, Marzia is slowly pulled from her slumber. She whispers his name in a slurred voice -- tired and broken. Her eyes are just barely staying open, shining like glass from sickness.

“Can you move your head up?” Felix asks, motioning for her to rest her upper body against the board of their bed. She nods lethargically, her head lolling back and forth. Felix mostly moves her body himself, using his weight to hold her up. “You’re sick, Mertz. You gotta stay awake, just until I get you some medicine. Okay?”

Her nod is so small, Felix almost misses it. He tiptoes around the house, careful not to wake his daughter who’s sleeping soundly in the next room. Felix shuffles around the kitchen, opening up the cupboards where they keep their medicine.

He comes back into the bedroom and turns the light on dimly -- enough to see, but not bright enough to give Marzia a headache. “Here, drink this.” He hands her a glass of water. Once Marzia’s done drinking it, she rests her head against the cool glass. He puts a thermometer in her mouth and motions for her to hold it. “Keep that in there. I’ll be back with more water and then you can take the medicine. We’ll see how you are in the morning.”

Marzia’s voice is hoarse. “Thanks, Fe.”

He nods. “I’ll be right back.”

In her early forties, Marzia Kjellberg is a beautiful woman. The edges of her hair are barely beginning to gray and the lines of age have yet to touch her. Sometimes, Felix sees her age in her movements -- her mannerisms. It takes a little more effort for her to chase after Luna as she runs through the park. And she squints at the menu when they all go out for dinner; she squints when she has the read anything, really.

Marzia’s birthday would be here within the week. He hardly realizes it until it creeps upon him with only a few days left. Felix has never been good with dates -- that has always been Marzia’s specialty. He doesn’t even have anything planned. Maybe they could go to the pumpkin patch again or to the movies perhaps. Invite over a couple of friends for dinner and blow out the candles on a red velvet cake.

Felix tries to broach the subject as subtly as possible. “So… we haven’t left the house in a while. Y’know to do something fun, just the three of us.”

“Well that’s because we’ve been busy. You still need to get your sponsorships sorted, Luna has school and all her extra clubs, and I need my spreads for the next clothing line done by next week,” Marzia responds, giving him a look that says she knows exactly why he’s asking. Felix sighs and Marzia gives her husband a gentle smile. “I have everything I need right here.”

“I want to do something nice for you,” Felix says, “we’ll go to Spain this weekend. Two days, three days tops.” Marzia’s smile begins to widen to a grin and Felix feels something flutter in his chest. “I hear it’s nice this time of year.” When they tell Luna about the spontaneous adventure at the dinner table, she bubbles with an excitement that could bring the whole house down.

It turns out that Felix has no idea what he’s talking about. It rains the entire weekend. Nonstop. It poured down in torrents -- heavy and thick. Luna adores it. She runs out into the grass fields by the hotel they’re staying at, mud staining her dress as she jumps in every puddle she can find. Felix joins after her, scooping his daughter up in his arms and twirling her. Luna laughs and the sound of bells echoes through the air. Marzia tries to take pictures though most come out blurry.

At nine years old, Luna is starting to get heavier and heavier and Felix mourns for the day when he can no longer do this. The day Luna would rather play all by herself than with her father.

And on the last night of their trip, as Luna sleeps deeply in the bedroom, exhausted from a day of fun and preparing to wake her parents at the crack of dawn, it finally stops raining.

Felix looks at his wife -- his amazing, loving, compassionate wife. His greatest friend and his life long companion. And in that moment it hits him, like the rocky waves below them crashing against the shore or the twilight sky bursting through the horizon. There is nothing more he could want for. Nothing about Marzia he doesn’t love. Felix couldn’t imagine himself anywhere but here.

Marzia is perched against the hotel’s balcony, letting the sherbert sun wash over her, calm winds flowing through her night clothes. Felix steps towards her and wraps his arms around her waist. He leans in, placing a butterfly kiss against her cheek. Marzia giggles softly as she moves to face him; Felix tries not to sneeze as her hair brushes his nose. He smiles at his wife. Marzia turns her head to kiss his lips and one of Felix’s hands leaves her waist to hold the back of her head.

Thunder rumbles, light cracking against the dark sky. The wind starts to pick up, creating a low whistle through the ghost-quiet streets.

“Thank you for this, Fe,” Marzia whispers against his cheek. Her brown eyes are shining and Felix wants to kiss her all over again. “This- everything is beautiful.”

Felix agrees, but he doubts that he’s referring to the same thing that Marzia is.

He pulls her in closer. “I love you, Mertz.”

“I love you too, Felix.”

When Felix thinks of perfection, he mind wanders back to this.

Marzia is brushing her daughter’s hair, loosening the knots and tangles as she combs through the brown tresses with gentle fingers. Luna’s hair is getting long; it goes down to her waist now. Marzia applies a few of her own hair products to keep it silky and smooth. She ties it in two simple braids -- pink ribbons on the end -- to keep the hair out of Luna’s face.

“You’re hair is getting very long, tesoro,” Marzia says, tugging the ribbons tight. “I can cut it for you.”

“No grazie, mamma. That’s okay,” Luna replies kindly. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, do you like it long?”

“Pappa told me about when you cut his hair and…”

Marzia knows exactly what she’s referring to. “Felix!”

“No, I want to be alone!” Luna yells, stomping up to her room, trying to be as raucous as she can -- huffing with each step and slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Felix, having just picked her up from middle school, trails behind her. Confusion and concern are painted in Marzia’s brown eyes.

“Thirteen is a terrible age,” Felix responds simply.

Horror movies are a staple in the Kjellberg family -- Friday night, lights dimly burning, extra butter on the popcorn.

Felix used to be afraid of all things creepy and dreadful -- he scared easy, okay? But after decades of playing horror video games, he has practically seen it all. Some things still spook him, but he certainly isn’t cursing in Swedish out of fright. He can look past the jumpscares and appreciate the beautiful graphics and intriguing plot; the same could be said for movies.

And Marzia has always loved horror. She would go out to the movies with close friends, perched on the edge of her seat as the films eerie music began to play. Staying in to rewatch old classics, curled up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, is an evening well spent too. Ideas would form in her mind of exciting plot threads and frightening character stories, her imagination wandering free. She even wrote her own thriller novel: Dream House.

It’s only natural that Luna loves horror as well. Except Felix would say different because Luna isn’t a huge fan of anime -- what a disappointment.

Sometimes, Felix and Marzia’s friends come over too. Luna adores spending time with her Uncle PJ and Aunt Sophie, and PJ is a creative, young, wistful soul that enjoys it too. Usually, when Luna’s friends are over, there’s no movie, but a lot of screaming and laughing coming from the basement.

This evening, they are watching The Shining. Luna complains that it looks old and Felix hushes her, telling her to just enjoy it. Which they all do, even if Marzia has seen it about four times already.

No one comments on the fact that Felix curls into his seat a bit when a scary part plays. Marzia has to keep getting up to refill the popcorn bowl. How much popcorn can one teenager eat? Luna is sitting on the edge of her seat the entire time.

When the movie’s over, Luna turns to her parents. “So, what’d you think?”

“Yeah, that was lit,” Felix responds deadpan.

Luna looks like she wants to bang her head against a wall. “Oh, my God. Pappa, never say that again. Your old is showing."

“Mood.”

Luna gives him a look before changing the conversation. “So, I’m picking out the next one, right?”

Felix’s mother passes away in her sleep. It’s sudden.

The doctor’s didn’t suspect anything. No one did. She was getting on in her years, but she always seemed to be in perfect health. And now she is gone.

The funeral is beautiful. Felix’s throat feels like sandpaper as he speaks. He can’t stand the sound of his sister’s muffled sobs. Or the grief staining his father’s eyes. Marzia holds his hand so tightly, her fingers begin to turn white; her wedding ring presses into his skin, leaving an indentation. Luna is holding his other hand. She’s silent beside him.

Felix doesn’t believe in God, but he wishes he did. Wishes he could believe that his mother is somewhere else, greeting her own parents, snuggling up with Ynk and Maya and Edgar. He really wishes he did.

One night, Felix cracks a joke at the dinner table. It’s a stupid, dumb dad joke that makes Marzia shake her head as his grin widens.

Luna, in the most deadpan voice she can muster, says, “please subscribe.”

Felix doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

She starts to do that a lot. Felix isn’t sure if he should be concerned that his daughter is watching so many of his old videos. And it’s not just old videos, it’s old, old videos. Videos from the tens and twenties. Luna asks where the chair is -- it’s in some storage unit that hasn’t been touched in ages -- and if Gloria Borger is dead and if Elon Musk really launched PewDiePie memes into space.

Felix tries to remember what he was doing when he was sixteen.

“Next. Meme.” Luna laughs as her father shows her something on his phone, and Felix can’t help but laugh along with her.

It is well established in the Kjellberg household that Felix always wants to keep things tidy. It’s a lot cleaner now that Luna is out of the house -- now in her first year of university. Her clothes aren’t strewn about across the floor and her makeup doesn’t clutter up the entire bathroom space. Felix remembers how she’d keep five glasses of water on her bedside table, always forgetting to take them down. And how she’d stained the carpet with blue hair dye once.

It’s quieter now too.

Felix still makes sure his office where he makes videos is clean, even if he doesn’t go in there that often anymore. Being in there is a nice getaway; scrubbing down equipment is simple, monotonous, and sometimes he just doesn’t want to think. He just wants to sit there and fix his XR Gear or organize his video games or calibrate his tech.

He and Marzia wouldn’t be here for long though. They’ve discussed it over the years, talked about their plans of moving somewhere far away once Luna’s out of school, whispered about the adventures they would have once they are old and gray. The discussion wanders to Japan more often than not and Felix can’t bring himself to be annoyed. Because nothing sounds better than being in Japan with Marzia by his side.

They’re talking one night in their bedroom, legs tangled together underneath the sheets, when Marzia smells smoke. She pokes Felix between his ribs, giving him an urgent look. “Felix, what is that?” She rushes out in one breath, already propping herself on the frame of the bed.

Felix gets up immediately and runs into the other room. Marzia sits there, pondering if she should go after Felix once a couple of minutes have passed. The smoke has stopped though. “Felix?” Marzia calls out hesitantly. When Felix doesn’t answer, she starts to worry. Is he okay? Did he injure himself? She grabs the sweater closest to her -- one of Felix’s, pink and faded -- and tugs it on, embracing the chill of night.

Marzia peeks her head into each room until she spots him, crunched over against the wall right next to the ironing board. She says his name again, barely a whisper this time. Felix glances up and her and sighs a frustrated sigh and suddenly, Marzia knows this is bigger than what she initially thought. She rubs his shoulder, hoping to offer some sense of comfort, as she sits down beside him. She intertwines their hands, brushing against the ring on his finger. Her back aches but she doesn’t complain.

Silence fills the room. The sort of quiet that isn’t uncomfortable or tense, but worrying; something slowly coils in Marzia’s stomach. She can hear the hum of the heating system and the low creaks of their home. But Felix’s breathing is far too shallow and he’s as motionless as a statue. Marzia loses grip of time: has it been ten minutes or thirty or an hour? If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder if Felix was asleep.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” Felix murmurs so quietly, Marzia almost doesn’t hear him. Tightening the hold on their linked fingers, she urges him to continue. “This has happened to me before.”

“What do you mean, Felix?” Marzia asks, no judgement in her voice.

“I left the iron on.” Felix has a pained look on his face and Marzia’s heart breaks a little. She rarely sees that look in his blue eyes and she wants to wrap him in her arms, tell him everything would be okay. Even if she doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.

“And this has happened to you before?”

Felix shakes his head. “No-no… not this exactly. But small things,” Felix replies, his voice hoarse. He’s gripping her hand so soundly, his fingers begin to turn white. “I’ll walk out of the house and forget to lock the door behind me. I won’t remember to turn on the dishwasher after loading it. I- all these small things that I used to remember. I don’t know.”

It hits Marzia. Then the rest of her heart breaks. “You’re forgetting things,” she whispers. “Oh, Felix.”

“I don’t like this, Marzia. I don’t like forgetting these things,” Felix croaks out. He puts his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the rest of the world. It hurts to see Felix like this. A part of him fractured.

“I can remind you. Whatever you need, I want to help you,” Marzia says, trying to comfort him. All she wants to do is offer him some comfort. She pauses and then jokes, “I can help you keep the house tidy.”

Felix chuckles but it sounds off -- on edge. “Our house will be a mess then.” He looks down at her and after twenty-seven years of marriage, Marzia can read the dread in his eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden.” She wonders how he could even say something like that because the idea of Felix being a burden is incomprehensible to her. Marzia glances at the band on her ring finger and knows -- the same way one knows that rainbows come after storms and that stars twinkle on black canvas -- they can get through this. Together.

She holds his chin in her hand, loving and firm. Marzia hopes Felix can read what her eyes say.

“Never, Felix. You hear me. Never.”

Marzia can hardly believe her and Felix have been arguing about this for the past half an hour. Actually she can... but still. The news is exciting and nerve wracking and wonderful; it also makes Marzia feel really, really old. Felix’s eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth set to a thin line, bangs falling on his forehead as he huffs and puffs around the living room. How dramatic.

“I’m just saying, I think I should interrogate this guy. You know, make sure everything about him checks out.” He’s pacing back and forth.

“Felix-”

“I think it’s reasonable.”

“Luna’s dated boys before,” Marzia reminds him. She had a boyfriend -- a shy boy with kind eyes named Peter -- for about a year during her secondary education. And another who accompanied her to a school dance. Even during her first two years of university, Luna an hour and a half drive away from her childhood home, her and Marzia would spend hours on the phone catching up, retelling stories from their day and talking about the people in their lives; Luna had mentioned a few boys she fancied.

Felix shoots her a look that’s a mix between ‘are you kidding me’ and ‘I am going to send you to the ranch.’ Marzia doesn’t know whether she should laugh or not. “But I think she’s actually serious about this guy,” Felix insists. He’s still pacing a hole into their living room floor. “What’s his name? Ethan? For all we know, he could be selling drugs in some slinky alleyway. Or he could be from a family of mobsters. Or he-”

“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Marzia replies.

“Nope.”

Luna finally introduces Ethan to her parents at her graduation. Felix hears people whisper ‘PewDiePie’ as he and Marzia walk past them. Luna looks beautiful in her graduation robe, all her stoles dangling around her neck. She is beaming at her parents and Felix and Marzia couldn’t be more proud. Luna’s friends are standing around her, chatting about their future and taking pictures to commemorate the day.

Ethan is standing beside Luna. He’s tall, a few inches taller than Felix, with sandy blonde hair and a nervous smile. He’s picking at his nails as he tries to stand confidently. “Hello, sir. Ma’am.” His accent is clearly British.

Marzia shoots him a look saying ‘see how adorable he is.’ Felix shrugs discreetly. He shakes his hand and it isn’t awkward at all. “Felix,” he introduces and Ethan’s nervousness rises.

“Uh, Ethan, sir.” His voice sounds shaky. “It is an absolute honor to meet you.”

Felix quickly glances at Luna and it almost looks like she’s laughing. This poor guy. Maybe he should go easy on his -- just for today. It wouldn’t be any fun to faint on one’s graduation day.

Marzia wears her glasses all the time now. In this day and age, there are plenty of surgeries to fix eyesight, but Marzia’s never been fond of doctors and hospitals and she enjoys picking out which glasses to wear every morning, matching them with her outfit. Felix thinks her black frames look the best on her.

Felix wakes up before his wife most days. Usually, he’ll lay there for a few minutes, listening to the birds chatter and tucking a strand of hair behind Marzia’s ear as she sleeps soundly. And some days, when he’s feeling particularly playful, he rolls out of bed slowly, careful not to make a sound. His footsteps are silent as he walks over to Marzia’s bed stand and steals her glasses.

Later, while he’s making breakfast or reading in the living room, he hears it: Marzia’s high-pitched whine before she yells “Felix!” He laughs and heads back to their bedroom, watching Marzia blindly try make her way over to her vanity mirror where she keeps the rest of her glasses.

Felix sees it as revenge for all the times Marzia’s snuck up on him while he’s caught up in playing scary video games.

Decades ago, his fans would have mentioned something about ‘respecting women.’

Their entire house in Japan is covered in Marzia’s sticky notes. She’s never been a big fan of them -- unless they’re cute, of course --, but she’s taken a shine to them. Felix spots a brand new one on the mirror of their shared bathroom:

Felix chuckles lightly under his breath. Though the notes are a reminder of his fading memory, it also reminds him of how much his wife truly loves him. And they do help. Some things slip through the crack, but Marzia’s beautiful handwriting is always following him, one step behind. Forgetting… is a sort of pain Felix still doesn’t quite know how to describe. No longer being in control. No longer trusting his own mind.

Every day, Felix feels like he’s missing something and he doesn’t even know what he’s lost. The sense that something is gone from him. Forever.

One day, Felix writes his own sticky note. He leaves it on the book Marzia is reading -- some best-selling horror novel. His handwriting is sloppy, scrawled across the note in inky, black pen.

Luna dyes her hair a soft pink for her wedding day.

Felix cries as he walks her down the aisle.

Felix wakes up smiling. The sky is full of fluffy, white clouds dancing across brilliant blue, grayer ones scattered across the endless expanse -- the wind is sweet and cool. Beams of light languidly flood into their bedroom as the sun rushes away from the horizon. Felix thinks there might be short, sharp showers sometime during the afternoon. The kind that leave shallow puddles on the countryside streets like fallen fragments of sky, reflecting the beauty in the world above.

Marzia’s breath hitches and Felix can tell she’s slowly waking from her slumber. She’s sleeping on her side, her head resting in the crook of Felix’s shoulders. He cautiously stretches out, muscles pulled taunt. His back has been hurting for years. Marzia edges forward, curling into his chest. Felix can feel her heartbeat.

She shifts and sighs, rolling over till she’s halfway on his chest. A part of Felix’s back aches, a pang running through his spine. He doesn’t mind. Marzia’s eyes peak open and Felix is met with a warm, beautiful brown. They hold specks of stolen sunlight, lines of melted butterscotch -- alight.

“Mornin’, Mertz,” Felix says, his voice thick.

Marzia is still drowsy from sleep. She returns his smile. “Good morning, Fele.”

A sound like autumn chimes.

On October 22nd, Luna gives birth to a healthy baby boy.

Marco giggles at everything he sees -- when he isn’t wailing his lungs out. He gurgles, his hands moving up and down when he looks at Marzia. Her heart melts at the sight. Luna looks radiant and exhausted and Ethan is so, so proud.

They each take a turn holding Marco. His wide, blue eyes stare up at his grandfather, a mirror reflection of Felix’s own. Ethan gently puts him down in his crib once he’s tuckered out; Luna is already too tired to keep her eyes open. Felix and Marzia leave the room and head to the hospital’s cafeteria to give them some much needed rest.

“Those blue eyes,” Felix suddenly says as they step in the elevator. “It’s my dominant genes.”

Marzia lightly slaps his arm. “Oh, hush.”

“Hey, Fele! Look what came in the mail?” Marzia shouts, rushing into their living room. Felix glances over. She sets down the package she’s holding as she goes to get a pair of scissors. As far as he is aware, they haven’t been expecting any packages. He checks who sent it to them.

Fuck.

Marzia cuts the package open and takes the item out of the box. Her eyes are filled with mirth, her grin wide across her face as she holds the book up.

“...No way.”

“They did,” Marzia responds in a tone that Felix thinks is far too enthusiastic. “Want to read through it?” She’s already flipping through the book -- a thick hardback with what looks like over hundreds of pages. Marzia’s giggling. It sounds evil.

Felix still can’t believe what he’s seeing. “They really had to do it to me.”

“I’m going to read through it. Th-”

“I dunno. I feel like we should just bury it in the backyard,” Felix interrupts her. He still can’t believe what he’s looking at.

“We can do that after we look through it,” Marzia responds, not bothering to glance up from the book. She’s scanning random sections of the book, her laughter growing louder and louder every time she flips a page.

Felix shakes his head. “I can’t believe this…”

“It was nice of them to send a copy before the final release,” Marzia replies, ignoring her husband’s protests.

“None of this is nice. I feel like this is very undeserved.”

Marzia flips to a random page and begins to read. “‘In 2024, Kjellberg started his forth channel jacksepticeye420 which garnered over eight million subscrib-”

Felix rips the book -- more like an encyclopedia, really -- from Marzia’s hands. She makes an affronted noise, but still looks all too pleased with herself. Disbelief coils in Felix’s stomach as he actually reads through the contents of the book. “Mertz, there are three chapters dedicated to the ‘War on T-Series.’ Three. Isn’t that a bit much?” He points to another page. “And an entire part about YIAY vs LWIAY. They make it sound like me and jacksfilms are enemies or something. And look at this! They refer to PewNews as a mainstream, credible source. They keep saying I’m the King of the Internet.”

Marzia quirks her head. “So it’s a bit dramatic.”

“A bit?”

“You’re dramatic so it suits you.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Here, listen to this: ‘Kjellberg’s famous logo [see Picture 48] has become an internationally recognized symbol. Appearing in graffiti and other forms of artwork across the globe, it is safe to say that the logo has become a symbol of free speech, togetherness, hope, and prosperity.’” Felix ends his sentence on a high note, astonishment clear in his tone. “I can’t believe these guys would take the time to write a biography about me. Who would want to write about me? What the hell is wrong with them?”

“You’ve been in books before.”

“This is an entire four-hundred page book,” Felix says incredulously, waving the book around. “You’re on the back cover art, by the way.”

Marzia reaches to hold the book for a moment. She smiles kindly. “Oh, that’s a nice picture. They chose a picture of me when I had pink hair.”

“Oh, my God.” Now, Felix is seriously done.

“What?”

“I am going to scream. I am going to throw this book in the fireplace.”

“What is it?”

“This fucking book is dedicated to Brad 1.”

Marzia’s always been good with dates: birthdays, holidays, events, anything. She knows her and Felix’s wedding anniversary is today -- their forty-fifth. Marzia doesn’t expect Felix to remember; she could never ask that of him. Recently, his memory’s been getting worse. A week ago his sister, Fanny, called him. Marzia didn’t say anything, but she could see it took Felix a few moments to remember who she was.

If Marzia reminds him, she knows Felix he would feel guilty for forgetting. Regret for something he has no control over.

Felix has enough on his plate as it is.

Marzia’s lounging in the living room, sitting in the chair right next to the fireplace. The flames lap at her skin as she snuggles deeper into her blanket -- a gift from Luna and Ethan. Marzia adjusts her glasses and scans the techpad in front of her. She knows she has to work on the marketing for her new jewelry line, but each thought wanders. Like sand slipping through her fingers.

She wonders how Felix is doing. He left the house a few hours ago to run errands, kissing her on the cheek before hopping in his car. Just like any normal day. Has he finished buying groceries? Marzia wrote a list of everything they needed and left it on the kitchen counter. Felix smiled gratefully at that. Or is he buying a new video game? It’s been a few months, probably longer, since his last video and Marzia knows he’s been meaning to make a new one. Felix still has quite a following across his platforms even though he’s not a social media star anymore. Though he only makes videos about once a year now, and usually about random things, each one he makes is appreciated.

Actually going out to buy things has become pretty old school, most people get everything delivered, preferring to order online. But they both agree that it’s good to get out of the house every once in a while. It’s especially wonderful in Japan because most people don’t recognize Felix. The same couldn't exactly be said about England.

Marzia hears the click of the front door, followed by the sound of Felix’s footsteps, heavy from the big shoes he likes to wear. Even beside the fireplace, the house still feels warmer with Felix there. Marzia calls out a greeting from where she’s sitting; her husband yells back in response. Still as loud as ever. She hears him put down the groceries in the kitchen, not bothering to glance up. And after a few moments, she hears someone cough behind her.

Turning her head back, Marzia looks at her husband. Then she re-adjusts her glasses because Felix is standing there holding a large bouquet of pink roses. His white hair is combed back and the light in his eyes is endless. “Happy anniversary, Marzia!” Felix exclaims, handing Marzia the flowers, a grin stretched across his face.

It takes a moment for the shock to fade. Marzia takes the bouquet -- the roses smell lovely. “Felix,” she starts because she still doesn’t know quite what to say, “you remembered.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Well, of course I did,” Felix states as though it’s obvious. “I’m not forgetting our anniversary. I marked it on my calendar like four times. I even set a reminder on my phone.” Felix flops onto the seat, even though it’s hardly wide enough for the two of them, and sits down next to Marzia. She laughs and scoots over, tossing some of the blanket onto Felix’s legs. Marzia wishes Maya and Edgar were cuddled up next to them.

“These flowers are beautiful.”

“Yeah, I know I’m great,” Felix jokes.

“Felix…” Marzia chides, but the lines near her eyes, crinkled as she tries to hide her smile, give her away. Marzia’s never been fond of the creases on her face. Felix says he likes them. That they remind him of how much happiness she’s had in her life. “You didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t expect-”

He cuts her off. “I know, but I wanted to do something nice for you. For us.”

Luna and Ethan welcome twins into the world. Stella and Aurora, the tiny little things that they are, are forces to be reckoned with. Their older brother, Marco, who’s five now, adores them. Reading them fairytales from his tablet and playing games with them as they waddle around in their crib, their big, blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“Don’t say it,” Marzia whispers to Felix when they see their granddaughters for the first time.

Felix certainly thinks it. It’s my dominant genes.

He also doesn’t mention the fact that the girls birthdays are October 20th.

Felix is older. And he knows he looks older. At the age of seventy-seven… he’s changed. Felix never notices them right away, not until they’re evident for the entire world to see. There are lines at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, deep, as though they’ve been etched into his skin. His hair is completely gray-white now, dull and thin and limp. There is a weariness in him that he’s never seen before -- a tired, exhausted weariness one only earns by living.

Sometimes, he doesn’t recognize himself. Most people hardly recognize him now. When people think PewDiePie, they still picture a man in his forties, eyes bright as he cracks jokes and reviews memes. And now that he lives in Japan, he’s become another face amongst the crowd. Nothing to make him stand out.

Which is why it’s so odd that someone yells out ‘PewDiePie’ as he’s walking to the beach with Marzia. He turns and a man, probably in his late twenties, is running after them. Felix stops and exchanges a glance with his wife.

The man is panting by the time he reaches them. “I thought it was you,” the man say between breaths. “I knew it!”

Felix doesn’t know quite what to say. “Yeah, man. Crazy.”

“After all these years… I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” he replies, wiping his sweaty hands on the front of his pants. “Oh- my name’s Haru.” He turns and greets Marzia as well. She nods along politely.

He awkwardly shakes the man’s hand and Haru laughs. Felix can’t quite remember why this would be funny; he laughs along nonetheless.

“How’d you even recognize me?” Felix asks.

Haru chuckles. “I almost didn’t. You passed me a while back and I thought there was something familiar about you.” He points at one of Felix’s tattoos. “It took me a minute to place, but when I did, well…”

Felix looks at what Haru’s pointing at -- his arm.

Slippy.

Haru continues speaking. “I used to watch your videos obsessively, y’know. I followed you on everything. I probably posted something on your subreddit like once a week. It’s so cool that I’m meeting you!”

Felix smiles gratefully. His fans really are great. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Marzia, using Haru's phone, takes a picture of all of them with what’s probably the newest tech -- Felix could swear a new phone already came out a month ago. Words and pictures float above the screen, hovering in front of their faces. Felix feels really old again.

Stella and Aurora are mischievous souls. They have a penchant for giving their father a heart attack and following Felix wherever he goes. He and Marzia are visiting their daughter who recently moved to America earlier in the year.

Felix awakens to find the two girls perched on his chest, looking down at him with curious blue eyes. He remembers, though his thoughts are hazy, when Luna was that small.

The twins scoot closer to his face once they realize he’s no longer sleeping. “Morfar,” Stella whispers. Aurora pokes his cheek.

“God morgon, tjejer,” Felix whispers back. Marzia shifts beside him. He isn’t sure if they know exactly what he’s saying, but their grins widen and that good enough for him.

“Morfar,” Aurora murmurs this time. Stella does not poke him on the cheek.

“What are you two doing out of bed?” Felix asks playfully, but still curious to hear the answer. “You’re not being bad are you?”

The twins shake their head. “Nej. Nej.”

Felix gives them a quizzical look. He really needs to brush his teeth. And he can’t feel the lower half of his body anymore. Maybe he should ask the twins to move?

Stella and Aurora glance at each other before turning back to him. “Waffles,” they say.

“Waffles?” Felix could be sleeping right now, but instead he’s having a conversation about waffles. This isn’t exactly a rare occurrence. This happens most days when Felix and Marzia visit their daughter. Ethan would eventually wake and storm around the house looking for the little girls, Marco claiming he didn’t know where they were, until finally finding them beside Felix; now their room is the first place he checks.

Felix grunts as he lifts his head from the pillow. “Your dad can make waffles.”

“So can you,” Stella points out and Felix can’t really argue that. “And dad burns them some.” Felix can’t really argue that either.

“He burns them lots,” Aurora corrects politely.

He nods in agreement and the girls cheer, waking up Marzia. “What time is it?” Marzia asks groggily. She has never been a morning person.

“It’s Waffle Time.”

Waffle Time roughly translates to 5:24 am.

Stella and Aurora cheer again. Aurora crawls over to Marzia and settles herself in her lap, urging her to get out of bed. Felix scoops Stella up into his arms while his wife and youngest granddaughter walk behind him, Aurora repeating everything the twins told Felix to her.

Marco is already waiting at the kitchen table. He’s reading something off an electronic tablet, casually scrolling to pass the time. Felix always sees Marco with that tablet, but coming from a family of readers, it’s no surprise. “You joined us for waffles!” He grins.

“Did we have a choice?” Felix jokes, ruffling his grandson's blonde hair. He sets Stella down beside her older brother and Aurora follows suit. Before gathering all the ingredients he will need, Felix turns and kisses Marzia softly on the lips. The kids make disgusted noises in the background.

“Ugh. Morning breath,” Marzia says.

Felix scoffs. “I could say the same for you, Mertz.”

“Now the waffles!” Marco interrupts. Stella and Aurora agree very enthusiastically.

Felix kisses his wife again on the cheek. “Excuse me, my fans are waiting.”

“No, please,” Marzia giggles, gesturing to the pantry. “Don’t let me get in your way.” The kids start clapping in delight.

“Fe-”

“You want another massage, don’t you?”

“It’s a good thing know me so well.”

Felix’s hands shake more than they used to. It takes more effort to pick things up around the house and do any work that requires nimble hands -- he leaves that stuff to Marzia anyways. It’s really hard to play old video games. His senses just aren’t what they used to be.

He can’t hold the pick to his guitar steady in his hands anymore. His grandkids love when he plays, sitting around him in a circle as he thrums out a rhythm. Stella and Aurora sometimes try to steal the pick and Marco has to stop them with a firm head shake.

They still enjoy the music, even if it isn’t as good as it used to be. Marco walks up to him one day when he’s really struggling. His fingers just can’t hold the right chord. Is he even remembering the right chord? Everything about this is frustrating.

“Morfar, I know you and nonna will only be here another week,” Marco starts, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “But I was wondering if you would teach me how to play?”

Felix smiles. “I would like nothing more.”

“Mertz, there’s something I need to tell you.” Felix’s voice is grim. Marzia's heartbeat crescendos, heavy as it rattles her chest. “Marzia, when I pass-”

“Fel-”

“-Promise to play bitch lasagna at my funeral.”

She hits him with a pillow.

Felix is ecstatic when he gets a call from his grandchildren.

“Morfar, will PewDiePie ever host PewNews?”

Oh, for fucks sake.

Over the years of their lives, Felix and Marzia always find themselves falling into the same patterns, dancing together in a rhythm that sends them again to the places in their memories, sharing the moments that become who they are. When Felix thinks of the mark they left on the world, he imagines a quilt stitched together -- messy and colorful and authentic. He imagines a dinner table overflowing with family, words in Swedish and Italian erupting from the chatter. He imagines old friends in front of screens, grins going to their eyes. He imagines his loyals fans, supportive and talented and hilarious. He imagines two adorable pugs running through pink fields.

Felix knows his memory is getting hazy, but it’s daunting that he can hardly remember the last time he and Marzia had been to the Yonaha Maehama Beach.

This place holds something magical. Felix knows it can’t be described properly with words.

This feeling -- this magical feeling -- reminds him of all the good in the world. The good that exists in the softest chord of a lullaby, the kindness behind a stranger’s smile, the last autumn leaf bursting with warmth, the love between two souls bound together by time.

It soars through his chest and thrums through his veins and finds its home in his heart. And Felix knows Marzia feels that same weight.

Felix laughs, a deep throaty laugh, and intertwines their hands, beautiful white and gold alight on their ring fingers as they rest their bodies -- worn and scarred and old and peaceful and content -- against the sand.