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Chapter Text

Cecil let out a soft laugh. His and Carlos’ hands were intertwined as they walked down the street, too wrapped up in their date to be paying attention to the cars rushing by.

“Where to next, My Little Tortoise?” Cecil asked as he gazed lovingly at his husband.

“Hmm,” Carlos started, pursing his perfect lips. “Didn’t a cafe open up near here not that long ago? We could go there.”

“That sounds neet.” He replied, and he let go of Carlos’ hand to push one of his Love’s curls out of his face. “Carlos, Night Vale’s brilliant scientist, with another one of his genius ideas.”

“Oh you big blabbermouth, I’m not that special.” Carlos said, his face flushed.

“You’re the most special, spectacular person in the world Carlos.” Cecil informed him, turning the scientist's dark cheek with his fingers, making Carlos face him. “At least to me you are.”

“You’re too sweet Babe.” Was Carlos’ response, his voice was low, and his caramel voice with it’s oaky tones filled Cecil with warmth.

Cecil leaned down as Carlos tilted his head up, the same thought being shared, and they kissed.

It wasn’t long. It wasn’t filled with a desire to communicate the ‘I love you’s that wouldn’t get spoken. The kiss they shared was quick. It was sweet. It was happy.

And later it was painful to think about.

Carlos stepped back.

He stepped back.

Too far.

The step was too big.

It was too quick.

Carlos didn’t scream.

Cecil did.

He dropped his cane and reached out.

But he was too slow.

The car screeched to a halt.

Cecil didn’t pay it any attention.

With shaking hands he pulled Carlos back onto the sidewalk.

He kneeled down, holding his perfectly imperfect husband in his arms.

He held him, trying to ignore the blood pooling around them.

“Carlos…” He started, rocking them back and forth, his cheeks became wet, and his lips quivered. “Carlos. Carlos stay with me. Carlos! Carlos please!”

The light in his husband’s eyes was quickly fading, but he wasn’t shaking.

He didn’t even seem scared.

He just looked up at Cecil with sadness in his dark eyes.

Slowly, Carlos’ hand went up, and he gently placed his soft hand on Cecil’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over it to get rid of the tears.

“Carlos, you can’t-” Cecil sobbed, clutching his dying husband. “You can’t leave me!”

“Ceec,” Carlos started, his voice weak. “It’ll be okay.”

“No. No. No no no no no no.”

The driver of the car yelled something.

Some passerby called the Sheriff's Secret Police, trying to get an ambulance.

Cecil didn’t let go of Carlos.

Even after he stopped breathing.

His heart stopped beating for minutes, hours, maybe, Cecil couldn’t tell how much time had passed.

He refused to let go.

He screamed at the people that tried to pull him away.

The blood stained his clothes.

He muttered as he held the person he loved most in the world.

His tears soaked into Carlos’ lab coat.

Cecil sat there on the concrete, people gathering around him, as his world crumbled.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn’t save him.

It took an Erika, called in by one of the Sheriff’s Secret Police, coming up and forcefully pulling Cecil up, away from the sidewalk and his beloved scientist, for his grip to loosen, for him to let go.

He stood there, in shock, as they took his body away.

Chapter Text

Carlos had always had strange dreams his entire life.

For as long as he can remember, in his sleep he lived in a small desert community, where the sun was hot, the moon was beautiful, and mysterious lights passed overhead while he and a husband he didn’t have pretended to sleep.

When he was young he told his family about the dreams, but they brushed it off as a child’s imagination.

But he knew there was more to it. The dreams were consistent, the people were the same, they were out of order, and they were strange, but in their own world they made sense.

At the age of six he realized he needed to start writing these dreams down.

Eventually he started piecing together the timeline of events, and started understanding the world he saw more and more of.

He became hyper fixated with figuring out why he kept having these dreams, and what they meant.

He studied psychology, but the answers he found there left him unsatisfied. He wanted to know more. He wanted to find the place he visited in his head. He wanted to meet the people in that town.

Carlos cared more for the dream town, the one called Night Vale, then he did for the world he lived in while he was awake.

When he was older, he found himself to love the people of Night Vale. He thought himself to be in love with his sometimes husband, sometimes boyfriend, sometimes awkward flirting radio host, if it was possible to be in love with someone he wasn’t even sure was real.

Eventually he broadened his study from psychology to general science, and found his second passion.

But even as he got his PhD, and he started working in his field, he never forgot about the small desert town of Night Vale.

Not that he could, since he still had dreams of the town every night. Although they ended up getting mixed in with dreams of a different childhood, and a different life all together, one that was his, but not quite.

He refused to give up the search for answers, even after years of looking.

Chapter Text

“Everything you know is a dream. Your life up to now has been false. And tomorrow you’ll wake up with the chance to do it all over again. Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello listeners, as…

…

As you’ve probably heard…

…

…

As you know…

Let’s just go to the community calendar:

Tuesday is…

I-

No.

I can’t do this.“

Cecil let out a heavy sigh, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Night Vale, but, but yesterday…

I have dozens of missed calls from my sister, and my niece, and, and some other concerned friends, but…

This can’t be real.

I refuse to believe this is real!

It’s not fair.

I was happy, I found the person I love most in the world, I got married, I was no longer lonely, I, I had everything I ever wanted, and yesterday that all got taken away, and it can’t be real!

…

…

He can’t be gone. ”

Cecil fell silent, and tears were rolling down his face again.

When he spoke next, it was soft. More of a whisper, then anything.

“I stayed in a motel last night.

I couldn’t go home without him there.

I can’t.

…

I’m going to see if Abby will let me stay with her and her family for now.

I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I don’t think I can do this.

Not right now.

I’m sorry.

So, for now, good night, Night Vale, good night.

…

Oh, and have the weather, I guess.”

~~~~~

When Cecil got to Abby’s house he only got halfway to the porch before she flung the door open. She rushed out to him, and wordlessly pulled him into a hug.

They stood there for a few moments, Cecil cried into his sister’s shirt, and she just held him, not needing him to say a thing.

“I’m sorry.” Abby finally said, her voice low and her tone gentle. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

And so he did.

He was quiet for the first few months, he practically refused to talk to anyone. He just sat there, staring out into a nothingness no one else could see.

Some nights Abby would sit by him, and he’d cry, and she’d let him, knowing there was nothing that could heal him but time.

And even then, time doesn’t work in Night Vale, so there may be nothing that could help.

When it came to Carlos’ possessions, Cecil tried to handle it, but his hands shook before he could even put the key in the lock to their house.

So Abby, Steve, and Janice took care of it for him.

They set important keepsakes in a box, but got rid of most of his things.

Cecil still refused to go into the house, so they packed up his things as well, and sold the house, eventually helping him move into an apartment.

He went back to work, trying to drown out his thoughts and pain by fully diving into it, focusing only on being the best radio host he could be.

He found out that everyone in town had completely stopped aging because of a report that an intern turned in.

He hadn’t even realized that Night Vale got caught up in his curse.

Before it had only been the people he was especially close with that aged with him, not on their own. Like Abby, or Earl, or Carlos…

It took him a while to realize it was because he couldn’t lose anyone else. Losing the person he cared most about caused him to hold onto everyone else so much tighter.

Too tightly.

He held on that tightly for years.

But slowly, decade, after decade, he loosened his grip.

It started with the people he didn’t really know.

Then his acquaintances started to age again.

Then his friends.

Then those closest to him.

~~~~~

Cecil heard a knock on his door, one he had been expecting, and he got up, leaning on his cane as he opened the door.

Abby stared at him, her eyes wet and tired.

“I’m getting older, Cecil.” She said.

“Doesn’t everyone.” He didn’t say it as a question.

“Cecil, you’d be alone.” Abby said, grabbing his shoulders.

“It isn’t fair to you for me to make you stay.” Cecil replied.

“It isn’t your fault, you can’t control it.” Abby fought back.

“But it is.” He breathed. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to watch all of your family die. If you weren’t stuck here forever with me, you wouldn’t have had to live through so much pain.”

“I don’t want you to be on your own Cecil. You haven’t made any new connections, you’ve shut yourself off from everyone who didn’t know you before, and if I die who’s going to be there for you?” She argued.

“I can’t stop it Abby.” He said. “I knew it was happening, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You aren’t bound to me in this bubble of time anymore. We both know this is it.”

She hugged him.

He hugged her back.

It felt much like it was much too soon when she eventually passed.

Then eight more decades passed.

Chapter Text

Carlos stares into the endless desert, every once in a while a sign rolling past.

In passing he had mentioned the strange town from his dreams to a colleague, and a few days later they had come back, saying they did research to try to find out if a town called Night Vale really did exist.

They said nothing showed up online, but that there was a newspaper article from over two hundred and seventy years ago about a scientist from a long defunct university that went missing while researching there.

Carlos had freaked out when he found out the place really existed.

And even more so when they told him the article gave a general area of where the town is.

So he packed his life up, and started driving to the southwest of the USA.

He’s been driving for days, back and forth over multiple states, trying to find Night Vale.

Carlos remembers in the dreams people talking about it being hard to get in and out of there, but he had never realized it had been this hard.

But he can’t give up.

He’s so close to getting answers.

He’s so close to finally going to the place that feels like home.

Carlos slams on the breaks, staring at the sign in front of him.

“Night Vale in twenty five miles.” He reads out loud, staring at the road sign.

He takes in a deep breath. This is what he’s been waiting for his whole life.

He presses his foot against the gas pedal.

And then harder.

And harder.

He speeds through the empty desert, the sand on the road kicking up behind him, his knuckles tightening, gripping the steering wheel with all his might.

He doesn’t know what he’ll find when he gets there. He doesn’t know if those dreams were his future, or a parallel universe. But he does know that he can’t wait to find out.

After an hour, he realizes that the town should’ve showed up long ago. But he keeps driving.

It has to show up eventually.

After another hour, and after noticing the sun being much lower in the sky than it should be for this time of day, Carlos finally sees the faint glow of city lights in the distance.

He drives further, until he can see the details of the buildings, and he stops a few blocks before entering the city.

Carlos grabs his notebook from the passenger seat, flipping to the page with the bullet points, rereading it, and refreshing his knowledge of the town once more, even though he remembers each detail vividly.

He closes the notebook, and moves his hand to the radio, switching it on, and turning the dial, trying to find a station that wasn’t playing only static.

“And with that, another crisis is averted.” A familiar voice says, the dulcet tone filling his car. “You know, in all my years living here, I’ve never seen City Council return so quickly from one of their vacations after the problem has been solved. They must have been homesick.

Stay tuned for the sound of windows opening, and doors locking.

Good night, Night Vale, good night.”

That voice…

Carlos’ hands shake as he reaches towards the radio, turning it down.

It’s him.

He would recognize that voice anywhere.

That’s the man from his dreams.

Cecil Gershwin-Palmer.

The radio host that, in the world that his brain goes to at night, is his husband.

Chapter Text

Cecil has a hard time remembering things. The past is a blur to him. Time is a muddied stream, and he has always had a hard time seeing it.

But he has done his best to remember the people. His friends. His family.

There are some things he won’t allow himself to forget, no matter how much pain it brings him.

He’ll never forget Earl Harlan, his best friend for most of his life.

He’ll never forget Steve Carlsberg, his brother-in-law, the man that was kind and forgiving, even when Cecil himself was not.

He’ll never forget Josie, and the league nights at the bowling alley.

He’ll never forget John Peters, the farmer, and those fields of invisible corn he grew.

He’ll never forget Janice, his niece, how she was smart, kind, and funny.

He’ll never forget Abby, his sister, who would always take care of him when he needed it.

And he’ll never forget Carlos… Oh Carlos… his husband, the love of his long, long life, the perfect scientist that captured his heart.

Even as he fails to remember exact dates, or when their times and space met, he still kept the memories of them close.

~~~~~

“And now, onto other news:

It seems as if someone new arrived in town last night, Night Vale. According to this report, he’s a... a…

I’m sorry, this report seems to be a couple centuries too late.

I’ll need to have a quite stern talking to with the interns about double checking dates, and making sure that all the news is current.

And if this was done on purpose? Well.

Ha. Ha Ha.

You’re very funny.

You should be SO proud of yourself.

Know what you’re doing next time, and don’t you fucking dare to come back here again.

I. Do. Not. Appreciate. You. Making. Fun. Of. My. History. And. Past.

But if it was an accident, just try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Cecil clears his throat, trying to push the report, and the memories it brought with it, to the side for now. He needs to get through this broadcast, and then he can deal with it all after.

“I’m sorry for swearing on air.

None of you remember that day, but it was one that had a major impact on my life, so I have some strong feelings regarding it.

Now, to the financial report:”

He continues his broadcast, his mind wandering as his voice reads the words to the dance he’s done for years.

No one’s mentioned Carlos’ name in years. The scientist has been practically forgotten by the town.

So why now?

Why did someone have to dig up that old report?

It doesn’t matter.

It will do Cecil no good to dwell on the fact that his husband is still gone, and that no one else cares, and that now he’s a joke, a prank to be played.

He pauses, taking a deep breath, untensing his hands, his shoulders, and unclenching his jaw, before he continues, moving on to the traffic.

He toys with his ring, trying to focus back on his radio show.

He never did open the box of Carlos’ things that were saved, he couldn’t bring himself to look at anything that belonged to his husband, but he never took off their wedding ring.

That was the one thing he could bear to keep on him, in his direct line of sight.

Because if he got rid of it, it would have felt like a betrayal.

And he can’t betray Carlos.

Chapter Text

He sits with his notebook, writing all the information he had gathered.

When he arrived in this strange town, its residents shouted ‘Interloper’ and pointed at him. And then he asked about a hotel, and they begrudgingly told him where to go, since his GPS stopped working.

At the desk he had asked about the people he had seen in his dreams. He was told that they didn’t know of anyone by those names, but some of the last names were shared by people they know.

And then Carlos asked about Cecil, the radio host. The receptionist narrowed their eyes, and asked why he wanted to know, before being shooed up to his room, not letting him answer.

So in the morning he went to a cafe, which is where he is now, and asked the same questions there. He got mostly the same answers, except that one of the people on his list, Dana Cardinal, was the cashier’s great great great great great great grandmother.

And when he asked about Cecil, he was pointed towards another customer, who, the cashier said, was an intern at the radio station.

He walked over, sitting across from the young woman.

“Hi, I’m new here.” He had said.

“Interloper.” She muttered under her breath.

“I was told you’re an intern at the radio station here?” He asked.
“What’s it to you?” She bit back.

“Well, I have some questions about your radio host. I… it’s hard to explain, but I know of him, and I would like to know more.” Carlos explained.

The intern perked up, seeming much more interested, and a lot more ready to talk.

“Oh, you want to know about Cecil?” She asked. “I can tell you about Cecil. He’s been the radio host for, well, as long as anyone here can even remember. He almost never leaves his booth, and I’ve never even seen him leave the station, but I’ve heard a few rumors of someone seeing him walk to the old car in the parking lot, and drive to an apartment.”

“When I heard him on the radio he didn’t sound old.” Carlos said.

“That’s one of the weirdest things, he’s not. I’d say he’s about your age, from the few times I’ve seen him.” The woman said. “He’s like some sort of god, or a creature, like City Council, or the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Our Homes, or the Erika’s, just someone who is a part of Night Vale, someone who’s been here longer than any of us. Oh, and he knows things too, things he shouldn’t know. Like, you’d think since he’s locked up in the studio most of the time that he’d be out of touch with the town, but no, he reports on things that interns like me have no clue about. It’s kinda freaky.”

Carlos nodded, eager to hear more.

But then she checked her watch, then the sky outside to see if the time was anywhere near accurate, and she was late, and had to leave.

So Carlos started writing down everything he found out.

He wants to talk to one of the entities that have been here as long as the radio host, but from what he saw in his dreams that’d be… a not particularly smart idea.

But if he could track down one of the Erika’s, then maybe he could piece some things together.

“You need something?” A person, tall, glowing faintly of a dark light, with a few too many pairs of eyes, asks, sitting themself on the opposite side of the table as Carlos.

No, they aren’t a person.

They’re an angel.

In his dreams, almost everyone looked fuzzy, not quite right. The only person he saw in any particular detail was Cecil, so he hadn’t expected those beings, angels, to look quite like they do.

“Are you Erika?” He asks.

“Sharp as ever Carlos.” Erika says.

“You’ve met me?” Carlos asks. “You’ve seen my dreams?”

“If that’s what you want to call them, then sure.” They answer.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on? Where is everyone else? Why is Cecil the only regular person from my dreams left?” Carlos presses.

“You think Cecil is regular? I remember you calling him remarkable, but I guess maybe you did change.” The angel muses.

“That’s, that’s not what I meant. I meant that he’s the only human who isn’t apparently long dead.” He clarifies, shaking his head.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Erika asks.

“He’d think I’m crazy.” Carlos argues.

“Have you seen this town? You’re literally talking to an angel dude.” They say, waving their hand, trying to disregard his worry. “But if you don’t want to, that’s on you.”

Carlos sighs, putting his head in his hands. He wants to talk to the radio host, he does, but he's scared.

He can’t just walk up and tell him that in his dreams they’re husbands, but he can’t not see him.

“Don’t overthink it.” Erika says, poking at his shoulder.

“How can I not?” Carlos asks, shrugging off the touch, before rubbing his shoulder, trying to get rid of the feeling.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you my guy.” They say.

“But-”

“Maybe write down what you want to say or something.” Erika suggests, cutting him off. “But either way, I’m out. Good luck.”

The angel got up, and walked out, leaving Carlos with his notebook and jumbled thoughts.

Chapter Text

“Good night, Night Vale, good night.” Cecil says, finishing up the day’s broadcast.

It’s been a few days since that old report had crossed his desk, and since then three more reports of a new scientist with dark perfect curls and teeth like a military cemetery had come in.

He hasn’t bothered using his Sight to look.

He won’t let himself think for a second that those reports are real.

It’d be too much pain.

But he’s going to have to hold an all station meeting to figure out what asshole is behind them.

He lets out a sigh, stretching, before grabbing his cane to make his way out of the station, and into the dark night.

Maybe tonight he’d swing by the Arby’s, look at the lights.

All the same, maybe he won’t. Maybe he shouldn’t.

He’s partially to the door when there’s a sharp knock on it.

Usually all the interns are out of the station by now, so who’d be knocking?

“I’m off the air, open the door!” Cecil calls, leaning on his cane as he waits for the stranger to open the door.

As the door swings inwards he stumbles back, shocked. He lowers himself into the chair, staring at the person on the other side of the door. Cecil drops his cane, instead pressing both hands firmly over his mouth.

It’s him.

It’s him.

The same perfect hair, with the touch of premature gray. The same dark, delicate skin. The same deep brown eyes, with amber flakes dancing in them.

He looks exactly like the day he died.

Cecil lowers his shaking hands, and starts mouthing his name, before he finally finds his voice to speak once again.

“Carlos?”

“Cecil?” Carlos says, sounding uncertain as he sways in the doorway.

The radio host laughs.

Not because he finds the situation funny, but because there’s nothing else he can do.

The laughing quickly devolves into sobbing, but his hands are shaking too much to even try and wipe away the tears.

But Cecil refuses to take his eyes off his newly returned husband.

If he looks away he might be gone again, and Cecil can’t lose him again.

Carlos stares at him, a mix of shock, worry, and uncertainty on his face, before he slowly approaches him, reaching out one of his soft hands, brushing away the tears.

“Where is everyone else?” Carlos asks, his caramel voice that Cecil had missed so much was soft, quiet.

“I’m sorry, Babe, I really am.” Cecil replies, his voice breaking. “It’s been so long, and I let them drift, and they’re gone. I’m sorry.”

Carlos bites his lip, and Cecil can see the gears in his brilliant, beautiful mind turning.

“Cecil, I need you to answer me honestly.” Carlos says, his hand resting on Cecil’s cheek.

Cecil nods, trying to steady himself, and prepare for what his scientist has to say.

“I’ve been in this town before, haven’t I?” He asks.

“You lived here for years Carlos.” Cecil answers, trying to make sense of the question.

“When did I leave?” Carlos presses.

“A couple centuries ago, I think.” He replies.

“How?”

Cecil doesn’t respond for a few beats.

“You died.”

Carlos just nods, looking thoughtful, putting both hands in his lab coat pockets, before taking a seat on the carpet.

“Do I look the same?” He finally asks.

“What?” Cecil responds, not quite wrapping his head around the question.

“Do I look the same as all those years ago? Do I look like the Carlos you knew?” Carlos clarifies. “I rarely saw myself in the mirror, so I’m not sure.”

“You look exactly like the day I last saw you.” Cecil says, reaching down and moving a stray curl away from his face.

“I think there are a lot of things we need to talk about.” Carlos says, staring up at the radio host.

“We should probably do that somewhere else, though. Somewhere with more chairs, maybe.” Cecil suggests, giving him a soft smile.

Carlos smiles nervously in return, before getting up, and offering a hand to Cecil.

“I’ll drive.” He says, helping Cecil out of his chair.

“Thanks.”

Chapter Text

They had talked for hours in Cecil’s apartment, Carlos explaining the dreams he had, and the new life he lived through, and Cecil catching him up on the events over the past two hundred fifty odd years he had missed.

They cried. It wasn’t easy for either of them to come to grips with everything that had happened to each other.

Carlos stayed at the hotel he booked for the first few weeks, trying to come to terms with the two lives he had led, before he started living his life in Night Vale again.

Cecil, for the first time in many years, took time off work to be with his newly, at least to him, living husband.

It took them a while to get their lives back to normal. It took them a damn long time to figure out what normal was going to be.

But they both wanted to make it work.

Cecil loved his husband, and that love had never faded, even after he had died and he had to live without him.

Carlos had loved the life he lived in his dreams, now what he knows to be his memories, and he did love Cecil too, even if he hadn’t truly met him before in this life.

He also had to adjust to the fact that this Night Vale was drastically different from the one he knew before.

But even so, he felt like he belonged here, more than anywhere else he had been before.

~~~~~

“Hey, Hon,” Carlos starts, talking to the radio host who has one arm wrapped around his waist, and one hand playing with his hair.

“Yes Bunny?” Cecil replies.

They’re reclining on their couch, warm against the cool desert night as they cuddle, Cecil holding him closely, Carlos letting himself relax in his husband's arms.

“Thank you for waiting for me.” He says, his voice low.

“I’d wait for you forever Carlos.” Cecil breathes, and he feels the man’s baritone voice more than he hears it. “But you give me too much credit. I didn’t know you’d come back.”

Even after months of Carlos being home, he can still hear the underlying pain, and the twinge of fear in Cecil’s voice.

“Still, thank you.”

“Mhm.”

They sit together a few moments longer, before Carlos turns his head, planting a kiss on Cecil’s lips.

Cecil smiles, dipping his head down in exchange for another.

“I missed you.” Cecil whispers, face barely hovering over Carlos’.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long.” Carlos replies, his volume matching his husband’s.

“I’m just glad you’re back.” Cecil says.

Carlos leans back, resting his head on the radio host’s shoulder, looking up at him, gently brushing his hand against his cheek.

Cecil drops his hand from Carlos’ hair, instead wrapping that arm as well around Carlos’ abdomen, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Do you know why I came back?” Carlos asks, breaking the silence.

“No, I don’t.” Cecil murmurs, squinting as if he’s trying incredibly hard to figure out the answer.

“I don’t know either.” Carlos explains. “I don’t know why I came back to life. Or how.”

“It sounds like something only a brilliant scientist can figure out.” Cecil says, his tone becoming teasing.

“I still want to try.” Carlos replies, his voice serious.

“Good thing you’re a brilliant scientist then.” Cecil responds, giving him a quick kiss on his temple.

Carlos sighs, smiling, his cheeks flushing from the compliment. Even after centuries, Cecil really has stayed the same.

“I wonder…” Carlos starts, before his voice trails off.

“What is it that you wonder, oh love of my life, my Little Panda Bear?” Cecil asks, his dulcet voice dripping with honey.

“Do you think anyone else could come back?” Carlos asks. “It seems improbable that I’m the only person who did.”

“...Huh.” Is all Cecil says.

Carlos sits up, freeing himself from his Love’s grasp, and grabs a notebook and a, highly illegal, pencil, and starts scribbling notes and ideas down.

“I’ll figure this out.” He mutters.

“Guess you’ve found your newest project.” Cecil says with a laugh, leaning over to gaze at Carlos.

“If I can understand this, then maybe, maybe we can find them.” He says, not looking up from the notebook.

“Do you really think you could?” Cecil asks, his eyes growing wider.

Carlos glances up at his husband, and nods.

He just stares at him for a moment, before smiling.

“Well,” Cecil starts, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

The... End?