Chapter Text

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and it was a peaceful day at the Hidden Toadstool Grove bed and breakfast. Or at least it was.

“PRUNELLA LILA GRUENENFELDER. WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

The aforementioned girl quickly dropped her crayons onto the dining room table and dashed out the side door. By the time the cranky young man bustled into the room, he found only his parents, trying (unsuccessfully) to stifle their giggles.

Agatha finally composed herself and cleared her throat. “What’d she do this time, Briar?”

“She put her stupid unicorn-kitty stickers all over my crutches. AGAIN. Do you know how long it took to get them off last time?” Briar scoffed, moving toward the still open door. “Which way did she go?”

“She probably went to the Hollow’s farmhouse. She’s been over there a lot recently. Told me she’s been trying to learn how to draw horses,” Agatha said, shrugging.

“Ugh, of course she’s back there. I’m going to go see what she’s up to. I’ll be back later.”

“Wait, Briar, do you think you can eat breakfast today?” Agatha asked, gesturing hopefully at the spread of food on the table.

He grimaced. “Not… not right now. Um… maybe I’ll try to eat something while I’m over there. Bye.”

The door swung shut behind him and Vincent sighed. “I’m getting worried, Aggie. I haven’t seen him eat anything since yesterday morning.”

Agatha started fidgeting with her hands. “Me neither. What should we do? Forcing him to eat will only make it worse, but if he doesn’t get any food in him soon he’s going to start collapsing again.”

Vincent leaned his head on her shoulder and started rubbing her back. “I don’t know, sugarplum. I just wish he’d stop overexerting himself.”

Briar entered the Hollow’s farmhouse and was immediately met by a stern-looking Prunella, hands on her hips. “Took you long enough. Did they buy it?”

Briar rolled his eyes. “Oh, give me a break, do I look like an amateur? They bought it hook, line, and sinker. Where’s Mr. Hollow?”

Prunella started walking down the entryway and gestured for Briar to follow. “He’s setting up the kitchen. Right this way, your majesty.”

Briar chuckled. She’d started calling him that when she found him asleep on the couch with a copy of Sleeping Beauty on his face. In retribution, he’d started calling her ‘little knight.’ While she didn’t exactly object to being called a knight, the jab at her height was just a tad too far.

As they walked, Prunella suddenly looked nervous and started wringing her hands. “Briar?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“You’re not actually mad about the stickers, are you?”

“Of course I’m not mad; it was my idea. I was mad at you last time, but that was because you didn’t ask for permission first. …And because the stickers you chose clashed with each other. These ones are fine,” he assured her, “I was actually kind of hoping you’d put more of the cool looking cat on here.”

Prunella looked relieved. “I would have, but I used up the last of my Bad Cat stickers on your laptop.”

Briar stopped. “Wait, my laptop? When did you do that?”

Prunella spun around to grin at him. “This morning, right before I did your crutches.”

Briar narrowed his eyes. “Just how many things in my room now have stickers on them?”

Prunella giggled and turned back toward the kitchen. “You’ll find out. Mr. Hollow’s right in there,” She said, pointing toward the kitchen. “I’ll be out back; Boris ain’t gonna draw himself. Have fun learning to cook, or whatever it is you wanted.”

Briar leaned down and ruffled her hair. “Why, thank you, my brave little knight, but I’m learning to bake, not cook.”

Prunella brushed him off and started walking toward the back door. “Eh, potato, tomato.”

“Those are very different things!” Briar called after her.

“They’re both part of the Nightshade family!” She yelled back, closing the door.

Briar just shook his head. She has the most bizarre interests, I swear, he thought. When Briar entered the kitchen, he saw Mr. Hollow closing the pantry door after putting a bag of flour on the countertop. When he noticed Briar, he gave a friendly smile and patted him on the back.

“There you are! I thought we’d start with learning how to make cookies. Sound good?”

“Sounds great. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Mr. Hollow. It means a lot to me.” Briar set his crutches against the wall and began washing his hands.

As he did so, Mr. Hollow got out the measuring cups. “Please, just call me Ralph. You’re making me feel old,” he laughed. “Anyway, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you come to me to learn to bake? Your father does all the baking for your bed and breakfast, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two from him. Not that I’m trying to dissuade you! I’ve been trying for years to get my boys interested so they can take up the mantle of always being a better baker than the Forenski’s. You’ll just have to do it in their stead.”

“Um…”

Ralph let out a boisterous laugh. “I’m just joking around. You’ll need to find your own baking rival.”

Why does he actually sound serious about that? “So, uh, you say your boys aren’t interested in baking?” Briar asked.

“My grandsons,” Ralph clarified. “Have you met Deacon and Chase before?”

Briar thought for a moment. “I think I might have shared a couple classes with Deacon in high school, but I don’t believe I’ve met Chase.”

Ralph sighed, handing the baking soda to Briar so he could measure it and dump it into the mixing bowl. “Yeah, Chase doesn’t spend too much time around here. Not since his mother…” Ralph cleared his throat. “Well, anyway. Oh! I got distracted; you were going to tell me why you wanted to learn how to bake!”

Briar shrugged. “Well, you probably know that my parents’ anniversary is coming up this next month, and Prunella and I want to surprise them. She’s going to decorate the house, and I want to make them dessert. Especially my mum. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a stepmother at first, and I want to make it up to her. You know, do something to show that I’m happy to be her son.”

“That’s wonderful of you, Briar. Y’know, I’ve known your mother for a long time, and she’s never been happier than the day you and your father came into her life. She’ll be beside herself when she learns what you’re doing for her.”

Briar smiled softly. “I hope so.” He added butter to the dough and started whisking it, holding back a wince at the way it strained his elbow. “By the way, how is Deacon? What’s he been up to? I haven’t seen him since graduation.”

Ralph rolled his eyes. “His parents are making him attend med school. I don’t think his heart’s really in it, but who am I to judge? He’s actually staying here over the summer, so you might see him around. I think he said he’d be at the library today. Hey, speaking of school, what are you up to nowadays?”

“I’ve been doing a couple college courses online. I’m planning on getting a master’s in Library and Information Science. What about Chase? Is he also going to med school?”

Ralph looked amused. “Good heavens, no! He’d probably jump out of a two-story window if his uncle tried to force that on him. He’s just working right now… we can’t exactly afford to send him to college, anyway.”

“I see.” Briar nodded. “What does he do for work, then?”

“He’s a farmhand at just about every farm we’ve got here in Sugar Springs.” Ralph adopted a somber expression. “Ever since… Well, ever since his mother died, he’s been working himself to the bone. Looking for anything to do to keep his mind off of the pain. Lately, he’s been getting into gardening as well. I think it’s probably the most constructive method he’s come up with to process his grief. You should see his flower beds, the boy’s got talent.”

“I’m very sorry. Losing his mother must have been very hard on him.”

“She was everything to him. To all of us. She’d been fighting cancer for years, but it finally caught up to her.” Ralph shook his head. “And just a couple years prior, his father— Briar, are you alright? You’re looking really pale.” He reached out, but Briar stumbled backward.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m just going to step outside for a while. Get some fresh air.”

“Briar, you left your crutches!”

Briar pulled open the door and leaned heavily against it. “Don’t worry about me, I won’t be going far. You can just leave them.” He staggered out the door and let it swing shut behind him. With spotty vision, Briar fumbled his way around the side of the house where he hopefully wouldn’t be disturbed, then fell to his knees and started throwing up. Or at least, it would be called throwing up if he had anything other than stomach acid coming out of him.

When he was done convulsing, he let himself fall forward to rest on the ground, but instead of soft dirt, he was met with a couple of small, spiky plants. Just his luck. Couldn’t even be immobilized on the ground without being stabbed as well. Whatever. Moving would cause more trouble than it’s worth.

He had resigned himself to lying on the uncomfortable plants when he heard a rickety old truck pull into the driveway nearby. Briar watched as a young man, maybe a year younger than him, got out of the driver’s seat and cracked his back. He then started talking to himself.

“Ugh, that is the last time I get up at five in the morning to deliver goats.” The boy slammed the truck door and turned toward the house. The house where Briar was currently unceremoniously lying in the dirt and plants. Wonderful.

“OH MY GOD!” He exclaimed.

Well, that’s probably a pretty standard reaction to seeing someone collapsed on your property, Briar supposed.

“MY ROSES!”

What.

Chapter Text

The young man rushed over to Briar and knelt beside him. “What happened?”

Briar gave him a flat stare. “Well, it’s a funny story. I was passing by while taking a walk, and I thought to myself, ‘Wow, that flower bed looks like a great place to take a nap!’ And so here I am. These thorny plants are just so comfortable. Best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Ever. In my life.”

The boy scowled. “I could do without the sarcasm, buddy. Are you able to get up?”

“Do I look like I’m able to get up?”

The young man sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Would it kill you to say something helpful? Why are you laying in my rose bushes, and what can I do to help you?”

Briar eyed the little plant next to his head. “If you consider these bushes, I’d hate to see what–”

“They were going to be rose bushes,” the boy interrupted, “before you ever so kindly decided to crush them.”

“Sure.” Briar rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you want to help, you could roll me off the plants, then leave me alone. I was quite enjoying myself before you came along.”

“Wow. That is some attitude you’ve got there, buddy. I’m not just going to leave you on my lawn, I don’t even know who you are!”

“You never asked.”

“Oh, my mistake. I guess I just assumed introductions could wait until after you told me what happened to you. Guess I didn’t account for the fact that you’re a giant pain in the neck!”

“Yeah, speaking of that, my neck is currently being stabbed by your so-called ‘rose bushes.’ Why don’t you be a dear and move me off of them, hmm?”

“I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you tell me where you live, and I’ll bring you home.” The young man put his arms under Briar and hoisted him up into a bridal carry.

The sudden movement brought with it a searing pain in Briar’s head, and the world went black.

Chase looked down at the boy in his arms, only to find that he had passed out when Chase picked him up. Great. Just Great. What am I supposed to do with him now?

He carried the mysterious boy around to the back door and, after struggling with the doorknob, brought him inside.

“GRANDPA, ARE YOU IN HERE? I FOUND SOMEONE ON THE GROUND OUTSIDE.”

Ralph rushed into the room, looking relieved. “Oh, good. I just got off the phone with Agatha, and she says this happens to him sometimes. Put him on the couch, we shouldn’t move him around too much.”

Chase complied, setting the boy gently down onto the cushions. “Mrs. G? Does she know this guy?”

Ralph chuckled. “She’s his mother, Chase. She oughtta.”

“THIS is Prunella’s brother!?” Chase exclaimed, pointing to the unconscious heap on the couch. “She never mentioned her brother was hot!”

Ralph eyed him. “I’d be a little concerned if she did.”

Chase waved him off, plopping down into the nearest armchair. “Whatever. You know what I was getting at.”

“Sure I do,” Ralph grinned. “You and Briar, huh?”

Chase scoffed. “Briar? Well, that’s fitting, I suppose.”

“How so?” Ralph asked.

“This here pain in the neck just destroyed half of my rose bed. I doubt he did it on purpose, but still. He could have at least targeted the tulips instead. Heaven knows they aren’t coming in well,” Chase said, gesturing dismissively.

“I’ll be sure to let him know for next time,” Ralph laughed.

“Next time?”

“He’s gonna be over here a lot for the next couple of weeks. I’m teaching him how to bake. Y’know, since my only two grandsons are forsaking their heritage.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “I don’t think your hobby counts as a heritage.”

Ralph put his hand over his heart. “It wounds me nonetheless.” He walked to the back door and, just before leaving, turned back toward Chase. “I’m going to grab Prunella and take her back to her place. I need to have a chat with her parents while I’m there, so watch Briar until I come back.”

“Watch him? It’s not like he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Then you can just enjoy the view.”

The door shut behind Ralph, leaving behind a very flustered Chase spluttering incoherently.

Prunella looked up from her drawing. Mr. Hollow was calling her name. She hopped off the fence and waved goodbye to Boris. As she approached, she started making out a worried expression on his face.

“Mr. Hollow? Is something wrong?”

He turned toward the sound of her voice, then knelt down in front of her. “I need to talk to your parents about Briar, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you out here if I’m not home, so will you come with me?”

Prunella shrugged. “Sure. What’s up with Briar, though?”

Mr. Hollow wouldn’t meet her eyes. “He’s just tired, so Chase brought him inside to rest. Nothing to worry about.”

Prunella put her hands on her hips. “He fell over, didn’t he. Mama says that this is what happens when he doesn’t eat anything, but I asked him about it, and he said that his body doesn’t like eating.”

“That’s… good to know. Well, I just have some more questions for your mom and dad, so let’s go.”

The two of them walked back to the bed and breakfast in relative silence. Mr. Hollow kept dodging all of her questions about Briar. It was getting annoying. She had a right to know what had happened to her brother!

When they arrived, Mr. Hollow started talking to her parents, and just as she was about to go up to her room, she realized that he might spoil the anniversary surprise for them! She can’t have all of their hard work be for nothing! While the adults were distracted, she hid outside their line of sight so she could listen in on their conversation.

It was beginning to get pretty boring. All they were talking about was Briar’s illness; she already knew all that stuff! Well, whatever, as long as they don’t bring up anything that could compromise the surprise. So, of course, they started doing that.

“I thought he was just going over there to get Prunella? Why did he stay so long?”

Prunella began to sweat. Mr. Hollow was going to let the cat out of the bag, and all of her and Briar’s planning will have been for nothing! She had to do something, anything, to keep them from finding out.

She burst out of her hiding spot, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes were on her, and she felt more frantic than ever. She had to think of an excuse fast.

“Uhh… IT’S BECAUSE BRIAR AND CHASE ARE DATING,” she yelped.

Prunella peeked out from behind her squeezed-shut eyes and saw everyone staring slack-jawed at her. Oh dear. Briar's gonna kill me.

Chapter Text

Briar woke up to the sound of someone strumming a guitar. It was actually quite nice. He would have preferred classical music, but acoustic folk music has its charms. He opened his eyes and found himself lying down on Mr. Hollow’s couch. Sitting in the armchair to his right, Briar saw the young man who had found him outside.

He looked up from the guitar and paused his strumming when he noticed that Briar had woken up. “Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”

Briar struggled to sit up. “How long have I been asleep?”

The boy looked thoughtful and resumed playing. “Almost an hour, I think. Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No, but I had cookies to take out of the oven. They’re probably burnt to a crisp by now.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Please, as if Grandpa would let anything burn in his precious kitchen. The cookies you two made are sitting on the counter. They’re quite good, actually, thanks for making them gluten-free.”

“You tried one? Do they actually taste good?”

“Obviously. I just said so.”

Briar paused. The boy had called Mr. Hollow ‘grandpa’ just now… then this must be… “Chase?”

Chase flashed him a radiant smile. “In the flesh. Want an autograph?”

Briar sized him up. He was pretty cute. A little rough around the edges, but charming enough. That meant it was time to self-sabotage. “Maybe. If you looked like you could write.”

The guitar in Chase’s hands spat out some sour notes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said indignantly.

“I’m just saying, you look like an illiterate country hick,” Briar shrugged.

“No duh! We live in the country! I work on a farm! If anything, you’re the one who’s out of place. You look like you just walked out of some crappy teen vampire novel.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Briar grinned. He’s pretty fun to tease. Maybe he would put some effort into this after all.

Before either of them could say anything else, the front door opened, revealing Mr. Hollow and Prunella. She was hiding behind his legs. Briar knew what that meant. She had done something.

Briar’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Prunella, what did you do?”

She let out a squeak and tried to hide further behind Mr. Hollow, who stepped to the side. “Go on,” he said, “tell them what you told your parents.”

She was avoiding meeting Briar’s eyes. Whatever she’d done, it wasn't good.

“Well, uh, I thought that Mr. Hollow was going to tell mom and dad about our surprise, so I…” she trailed off, fidgeting nervously with her hands.

“Spit it out,” Mr. Hollow urged.

“I told mom and dad that you came over here because you and Chase are dating.”

“WHAT??” The two boys turned to each other in shock.

Briar rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. “How is that the first thing that came to your mind?”

“And why me?” Chase added. “Why not Deacon? His reputation could use a rumor like that; it would boost his ego.”

Prunella glared at her brother and folded her arms. “Stop whining. I did it by accident, but it’s a perfect excuse for you to come over here all the time. And for your information, Chase, Deacon has a girlfriend. He just told me not to tell anyone. So there.”

Chase turned to Briar. “Now I know she’s lying,” he whispered. “There’s no way in a million years Deacon got himself a girlfriend.”

“I can hear you!” Prunella pointed out. “And I’m not lying! Last week, when mom took me to the library, I saw a girl ask him on a date.”

“Wait, really?” Mr. Hollow asked.

Chase nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. He would never be the one to initiate.”

“Can we forget about Deacon for a second? How are we supposed to convince mom and dad that I’m actually dating… that.” Briar gestured dismissively toward Chase.

Chase looked affronted. “Woah, let’s get one thing straight, buddy, you’d be lucky to be dating me. I’m a catch.”

“Sure you are. Now, why don’t you be a good little ‘boyfriend’ and go get me my crutches so I can leave.”

“LITTLE?? I’m at least 5’4’’!”

Prunella left the boys to their arguing and followed Mr. Hollow into the kitchen. He had promised her she could try anything they baked to make sure its quality was up to par. In her opinion, the cookies tasted kind of weird. Mr. Hollow said it was because they were gluten-free. Why that would make such a difference, she had no idea. Well, in any case, he said she could choose what they make next. He set out a binder full of recipes and told her to find one that looked good.

In the end, she settled on fruit tarts. When she told Mr. Hollow, he agreed that it would be a good recipe to learn, but that he would need to go to the store for some ingredients.

As they walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer, they could still hear Chase and Briar exchanging insults. Mr. Hollow shook his head. “I thought they’d get along better than this.” He said. “It might be a hard sell to your parents, Prunella.”

She nearly laughed. “Trust me, we don’t need to worry,” she assured him. “Briar only acts this mean when he’s nervous around people he likes. Chase is totally his type. I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually start dating after this.”

Mr. Hollow snuck a glance into the adjoining living room, where Chase looked about two seconds away from strangling Briar. “I hope you’re right about that,” he said. “Otherwise, we might have bigger issues.”

He opened the door, paused, then turned back. “Maybe we should separate them for a bit. I’ll take Briar to the store with me, and you can talk to Chase. Maybe try to help him understand why we need them to get along.”

Prunella adopted a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’ll talk to him alright.”

Before Mr. Hollow could ask what she meant by that, she had already grabbed Briar’s crutches for him and was practically shoving him out of the door.

With Mr. Hollow and her brother out of the way, Prunella finally had a chance to spill all of Briar’s secrets. Most importantly, the ‘how to woo him’ secrets.

Surely he wouldn’t mind.

Chapter Text

Ralph sat awkwardly in the driver’s seat of his old beat up pick-up truck. Briar seemed content to wait out the drive in silence, but the quiet was suffocating to the old man.

“So…” he began, “you and Chase aren’t getting along? That’s a shame.”

Briar turned to him in confusion. “What gave you that impression? I get along with him just fine.”

If Ralph hadn’t been driving, he would have stared incredulously at the young man next to him. But alas, he kept his eyes on the road. Lord knows they didn’t need an accident on their hands. “Just fine?” He asked. “You two were practically at each other’s throats!”

Briar looked wistful. “I wish he was at my throat.” His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said. “I MEAN UHHHHHHH. He’s—he’s fine. NO! HE’S NOT FINE! I would never call your grandson fine. He’s a good guy, is uh… is what I meant. Yeah.” Briar buried his head in his hands. “You can just drop me off on the side of the road. I’ll walk home.”

Ralph let out a boisterous laugh. “Relax kid, I’m not here to judge. And I can’t let you go either, I brought you out here for a reason.”

Briar lifted his head, a blush steadily retreating from his face. “To get ingredients for our next lesson?”

“Well, that,” Ralph agreed, “but also to get some food in ya.” The truck pulled off of the main road and into a restaurant’s drive through.

“What? But I didn’t bring my money.”

“I didn’t ask if you had. Now what do you want?”

Briar shook his head. “No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do this for me. Let’s leave.”

“Wrong answer. Guess I’ll choose for ya.” Ralph leaned out the window to order. “We’ll take a turkey club and a medium chocolate shake.”

“Anything else for you?” The attendant asked.

“That’ll be all,” Ralph answered.

“Pull up to the second window.”

As they drove up, Briar seemed to sink down into his seat. Ralph paid for the food, then tossed the bag onto Briar’s lap after setting the shake into one of the truck’s cupholders. “There ya go, kid. Eat up.”

“I can’t accept this,” Briar mumbled.

“Sure you can, now eat it.”

“No, really, you paid for it, I can’t just–”

“Briar,” Ralph cut in, fixing the young man with a hard stare. “I’m not asking. You have to eat this.”

Briar blinked, stunned by the older man’s harsh tone. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered.

The truck pulled back out onto the street, its two occupants sitting in an awkward silence. Briar quietly munched on the sandwich. Ralph sighed. “Look, kid, your parents are worried about you. And frankly, so am I. I know eating can be hard for you, and your parents don’t want to force it, but under my roof, everyone eats their share. If we’re going to continue these lessons, you’re going to need to prove to me that you care enough about yourself to take care of your body.”

“But–”

“This is not up for discussion. At least one meal a day. If not for yourself, for your parents. I know all too well what it’s like to lose a child.” Ralph took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want that for your family,” he choked out.

Briar looked down. “I do care,” he said softly. “I’m trying. I don’t want them to worry, and I can see how disappointed they are, but I just can’t… I can’t… keep doing this; pretending everything is fine.” He curled in on himself, tears beginning to fall. “How am I supposed to tell them that every day I wake up a little weaker? How am I supposed to tell them that I’m tired and in pain when I haven’t even done anything? How could I be so ungrateful for everything that they do for me?” Briar’s hands began to shake. “What am I supposed to say when they work day in and day out, and I can’t even get out of bed? What kind of a son am I? They shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of burden; they’d be better off if I… i-if I…” His voice wavered, trailing off into heavy, shaking breaths. His chest heaved, and his fingers turned white from clenching the fabric of his sleeves.

Ralph pulled into the grocery store parking lot, carefully contemplating his next words. Briar’s situation was worse than he thought, given the unspoken part of his last sentence. It would take some delicate maneuvering to get more out of him without Briar completely shutting down. Ralph wished his late wife were still around. She always knew what to say. As a matter of fact, she’d probably have found a way to get Briar to open up, work through his feelings, and somehow be laughing and smiling not ten minutes later. But she was gone, and an old military codger like Ralph was all Briar had in that moment.

Ralph knew he wasn’t equipped to help Briar through the warped thoughts in his head, but there was an old trick his commanding officer taught him back in the day that might just work to pull him out of it. For now, at least. Long enough to get him some help.

Ralph prepared his best valley girl accent. It was showtime. “Wow, that’s, like, totes a major bummer.”

Briar froze, face scrunched up in confusion, completely taken aback by the nonsense he had just heard. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

"It was insensitive, and I’m sorry for that, but I need you to be present right now. If you start spiraling again I’m gonna say some more dumb shit to grab your attention. Listen to me. We are going to talk to your parents about this. Either you can tell them yourself, or I’ll do it for you. This is serious, Briar, we’re going to get you some help.”

Ralph started the engine up again, getting Briar’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.”

“What about the ingredients we needed?”

“I’ll get them on my own time, you’re in no condition to go shopping right now.”

Briar glanced at himself in the truck’s side view mirror. His eyes were red and puffy, and the eyeliner he had been wearing was streaked down his face. It did add a certain je ne sais quoi to his outfit, but he had to agree that it would probably get him some weird looks in their small town supermarket.

Briar sighed. “Fine,” he agreed, “you can take me back, but I don’t think I can tell my parents about this right now. We can’t exactly afford to do anything about it, anyway. I’ll just sleep it off like I always do.”

Ralph sent him a worried glance at the younger boy’s choice of words, but let the matter drop.

Mr. Hollow drove straight to the bed and breakfast, the whole time practicing in his head how he would breach the subject matter with Agatha and Vincent. He could already imagine the crushed looks on their faces once they hear what their boy is going through.

Briar let them inside, then went straight to his bedroom, saying he was worn out and needed time to himself to rest. He wouldn’t meet his parents’ eyes.

Ralph cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you two. Why don’t we sit down…”

Chapter Text

Prunella skipped back into the farmhouse’s living room, eager to tell Chase all about her brother, but he was nowhere to be found. She glanced around, wondering where he could have slipped off to when she saw out of the corner of her eye the backdoor swinging closed.

She rushed out after him, intent on calling him over for a chat, but paused when she noticed he was heading towards Boris’ stable. What is he doing? She thought to herself. Boris already had food in his stall, which she had seen when she was in there earlier. What else would Chase want to do with the horse?

Prunella slowed her pace down to a crawl and tiptoed around the edge of the barn to sneak in the side door. She knew that it was completely unnecessary; Chase would just tell her what he was doing outright, there was no need for subterfuge. Alas, the idea of spooking Chase from behind called to her like that one salesman who just didn’t know when to back off. Papa had called him a bad word. Anyway, Prunella was getting off-topic. What was she doing again?

Oh yeah, sneaking up on Chase. A mischievous grin formed on her face.

From behind the door of an empty stall, Prunella saw Chase put on an apron and set out some tools. He called Boris over with a whistle, then guided the horse to place his back right hoof on a small stand that Chase had laid out. Once the hoof was in place, Chase swung a leg over it to straddle the horse and keep its foot in place.

Prunella watched curiously as Chase grabbed a huge pair of pliers and began yanking thick nails out of Boris’ hoof. The poor thing! They must have hurt so bad, but the horse didn’t seem to be in any pain at all. What a brave creature. Prunella would have to steal some sugar cubes from the bed and breakfast to reward him later.

Then Chase pried off Boris’ horseshoe. Oh, she thought, he’s just replacing his shoes. She had heard some farmers talking about that at an event her mom hosted a couple of weeks back. She didn’t know they were held in place by nails, though! How cruel. Just when she was about to step out and start lecturing Chase, he took a weird looking knife out of his toolbox and started carving out pieces of Boris’ hoof! Prunella was mortified.

She rushed out of the stall she was hiding in and grabbed Chase’s arm to pull him away from the horse. “Chase, stop! Why are you hurting him?”

Chase looked startled at the sudden interruption, then laughed when he processed what was going on. He set down his knife and ruffled Prunella’s hair fondly. “Relax, kid. If I were hurting him, I’d have had my teeth kicked in by now. And then how would I become a pop star?” He put his hand over his forehead dramatically. “I need all my teeth to sing! The world shouldn’t be deprived of its next big star!” He joked, striking ridiculous poses as best he could while covered in dirt and straddling a horse.

Prunella rolled her eyes and batted his hand away from her head. “Well, if it’s not hurting him, what is it doing?”

“And here I thought you knew everything about animals,” Chase teased. “Didn’t you tell me you’re going to raise unicorns when you grow up?”

“Yeah, but unicorns are magical, and they don’t need to do this. Whatever this is. They take care of it themselves,” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ah, of course,” Chase smiled, “my mistake. Would you like me to explain what I’m doing?”

Prunella nodded, grabbing a nearby stool to sit on so she could watch.

“I’m trimming Boris’ hooves and putting on new horseshoes. This way, he’ll be a lot more comfortable, and walking will be easier for him.” He dug his knife back out of the toolbox by his side and showed it to Prunella. “This is a farrier’s knife. It’s made to help us trim any extra material that’s growing on the hoof. Think of it like getting your fingernails trimmed.” He grinned. “You wanna know something interesting?” He asked, resuming his ministrations.

Prunella nodded.

“A horse’s hoof is like a person’s middle finger, so all day every day they’re standing on their tiptoes!”

Prunella’s jaw dropped. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“It can,” Chase shrugged, “but that’s why we trim them and change their horseshoes regularly. That way they can go about their horsey business pain-free.” He dropped the knife back into his box and then selected a tool that looked like a really big nail file.

“What’s that one?” She asked, pointing to the oddly proportioned tool.

“This is called a rasp,” he answered, holding it up so she could see it. “We use it to smooth out all the jagged edges that are left over from the trimming.”

Prunella nodded. She should have brought her notebook back with her, she might need this information for her unicorns. You know, just in case their magic doesn’t work all of the time.

“How do you know all of this? I thought all you did was write bad songs.”

“First of all,” Chase said, “my songs are not bad. Whoever told you that is just jealous of my insane talent. Second of all, I’ve been learning a lot of farmhand maintenance from Mrs. Clarke. She and her wife own a farm about ten minutes down the road from here. I started working for them about a year ago.”

“Ohh, after your mom died?”

Chase froze. “Y-yeah. Around that time.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway, was there a reason you came out here?”

“Oh yeah!” She exclaimed. “I wanted to tell you that you should wear more sleeveless shirts. Briar likes looking at muscles.”

Chase paused again, taking a moment to compose himself. “Why does that matter to me?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re cute, so if you showed off a little, I think it could help your relationship.”

“Our fake relationship,” Chase deadpanned. “That you completely made up.”

“It doesn’t have to be fake,” Prunella said defensively, “You should date for real. I think you both like each other.”

“Oh yeah? Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.” Chase scowled, remembering the string of insults Briar had thrown at him earlier.

Prunella shrugged, kicking her feet by the rungs of the stool she was sitting on. “He and his last boyfriend were really mean to each other, too, so I’m pretty sure he likes you just as much as he liked that guy. He got really sad when he stopped coming over. Mum and Dad said it was a good thing that that guy left, but I don’t know why it was good if it made Briar sad. I once asked him why they were mean to each other if they were in love, because mum and dad don’t act like that, and he said that they did love each other, they were just having disagreements. You and Briar don’t have to have disagreements, though! You’re good at listening to other people!”

Chase was indeed listening, but the concerned look on his face showed that he wasn’t quite pleased with what he was hearing. He had stopped fitting Boris’ new horseshoe halfway through Prunella’s story, and the horse started to shift in discomfort at the awkward position. Chase was still sorting through his thoughts on the matter when Boris reared up and knocked over the stand, shoving Chase away in the process.

“Whoah, boy, calm down! What’s gotten into you?”

Not a second later, Deacon poked his freckled face through the barn doors. “Hey Chase, you in here? Where’s grandpa?”

Chase spun around to stare furiously at his cousin. “DEACON! I TOLD YOU NEVER TO COME WITHIN A TWENTY-FOOT RADIUS OF THE BARN EVER AGAIN. IF I GET MY FACE KICKED IN BECAUSE BORIS CATCHES SIGHT OF YOUR UGLY MUG, I SWEAR TO ALL THAT YOU HOLD DEAR, I’LL RIP OUT EVERY SINGLE PAGE OF YOUR STUPID PIRATE BOOKS AND PAINSTAKINGLY FOLD EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM INTO ORIGAMI SWANS. GET OUT!”

Deacon put up his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to see–”

“NO,” Chase interrupted, “no seeing for you. Prunella, chase him out of here. Bite his ankles or something.”

“Fine! I’m going!” Deacon disappeared from the doorway, no doubt heading off to sulk somewhere about how unfair it is that all horses hate him. Them’s the breaks.

Prunella turned back to Chase, who was getting Boris settled back onto the stand to get his horseshoe finished.

“Sooo,” she began, “Briar also likes chocolate. He’d be pretty happy with you if you got him some as a dating present.”

Chase huffed out a laugh. “You really want me to date your brother? Why?”

“Well, you’re a kinda cool guy, I guess. I think you’d make him happy,” she shrugged. “And I’ve got nothing better to do until break ends,” she added.

Chapter Text

Briar was stuck. Stuck in his head. Stuck in his body. Stuck in his bed.

Stuck in his life.

He lay buried under velvet blankets, staring listlessly at the wall. The room grew dimmer as the hours slipped away, and even though Briar’s fatigue grew, he found sleep to be just beyond his reach.

Like everything in his life.

He had only been getting worse. The older he got, the less he could do. His skin bruised, his joints ached, his muscles got weaker, he got tired faster, his heart raced, and all he could do was waste the day away, rotting in his room and watching the world spin off without him.

Briar thought back to his childhood. Back to the warm summer days when he would play in his dad’s backyard, oblivious to the world around him. The days when he could still run, still walk without his crutches. The days he felt alive.

Through the haze of his thoughts, he heard the muffled voices of his parents and Mr. Hollow beyond the walls of his room. He didn’t have the energy to try to make out specific words, but he could still hear the panic and worry in their tones. He should have been more mindful of his words. He shouldn’t have let Mr. Hollow get through to him. Now everyone would know. Then they’d look at him like he was fragile. More than they already did, anyway. They’d look at him and all they would see is a broken body now complete with a broken mind.

God, what would he say to his parents? They’d blame themselves; they always did. Briar never knew how to reassure them that they were doing everything right. That they were exactly what he needed.

That they were too good for him.

Briar felt his throat closing up, his eyes beginning to water. They were so so good to him. They let him set his own pace, found ways to keep him moving forward, and even when he couldn’t, they never gave him anything but unconditional love. Even his bedroom was a testament to their love. After he dislocated his knee last year, they dropped everything and rearranged the entire bed and breakfast so he could live on the ground floor.

He hadn’t done anything to deserve their love. Couldn’t give anything back.

They said it didn’t matter; that they’d always be there for him. How long until they realize he’s a sunk cost? How long until he’s more trouble than he’s worth? How long until they see him the way he sees himself?

He needed to leave. Where he would go, he didn’t know yet. All he knew was that he needed to be out of this room. This dark, suffocating coffin that seemed to close in on him at times like this.

With a grunt, he sat up, his body violently protesting the action with a splitting headache. Briar shakily moved to the edge of the bed. His crutches were propped against the wall a couple of feet away. All he needed to do was stand up and get them.

His limbs felt like dead weight. They trembled as he braced a hand on the headboard to push himself up onto his feet. The sudden change in position brought with it a rush of pain. His head pounded, and his vision faded. He managed a single step before crashing down to the floor, knocking over his crutches as he went.

Briar’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. His lungs heaved, trying in vain to pull in enough air. Briar barely registered the door opening until he felt himself being turned over and pulled into somebody’s lap.

The light spilling in from the doorway was too much for Briar’s senses to handle. His eyes squeezed shut against the stinging sensation. The body that held him pulled him closer, wiping the tears off his cheeks and gently brushing the hair off his forehead.

Briar felt a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, and a deep but gentle voice whispering to him. “Oh my dear boy. My Briar. I’m here with you. I’ve got you. Always.”

Briar’s tongue was lead in his mouth, and it was all he could do to lean into the embrace, hoping that would convey what he wanted to say. I love you, Dad, please stay with me. I need you.

Eventually, Briar’s breathing evened out, and he found his consciousness fading away, feeling safe in his father’s arms.

The next morning, Briar awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking. As he fully came back to himself, he noticed that he was propped up with several pillows behind his back, and Prunella was curled up at his side, hugging him as she still slept.

Sunlight poured through his window, heating the room to an almost uncomfortable degree. Briar looked around. His crutches were back at their place by the wall. On his nightstand, Briar noticed something missing. His painkillers; they were gone. His stomach dropped. They didn’t trust him to have them anymore.

Prunella stirred, clutching him tighter before blinking bleary eyes awake. “Briar?” She asked.

Briar looked down at her. She always seemed so confident and strong, but the sight before him was that of a scared little girl, holding tight to someone she didn’t want to lose. He pulled her closer and began carding his fingers through her hair. “What’s up, little knight?”

Her voice, normally loud—and frankly a little bossy—shook as she clutched her brother tighter. “Will you eat breakfast with me today?”

Briar’s heart clenched. She knew something was wrong. “Yeah. I’ll– I’ll eat with you. Of course.”

She perked up. “Great! I’ll go get it for us. Stay in bed, Mom’s orders!”

That was probably for the best. Briar could feel the fresh bruises on his knees and head from his fall last night. He must be quite a jarring sight; purples and greens blossoming from his temple across his forehead and down his cheek.

Prunella rushed back into the room, nearly dropping the plates in the process. She set hers down on the nightstand and proudly held out the plate she had dished up for Briar. He lifted an arm to take the plate, feeling like jelly in the process. As soon as she let go, the plate slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, flinging scrambled eggs across the floor.

The two siblings stared at the mess in shock. Briar flexed his hand. It certainly felt weak, but he didn’t usually lose this much grip strength in the mornings. He gave a weak laugh. “You know what? This is fine, I’ll just have some water instead,” he told Prunella.

He reached over his nightstand to grab his water bottle. It was a little heavy, but Briar managed to bring it closer to himself. The real trouble began when he couldn’t twist the cap off. Try as he might, Briar couldn’t make his hands hold the bottle tightly enough to get the friction he needed.

Prunella watched with a concerned look on her face. “I’m getting mum,” she said. As she left, Briar let out a long sigh, falling back onto the pillows.

She returned shortly with a worried Agatha behind her.

Briar gave her a weak smile. “Morning, mum.”

Agatha glanced at the mess on the ground before returning her gaze to her son. “How bad is it?”

Briar didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s… not great,” he admitted.

“Show me.” She held out her hand for Briar to grab. He squeezed it as hard as he could, the effort far exceeding the results.

Agatha’s brows furrowed. “That’s worse than usual.”

Briar nodded tiredly.

“Listen, Briar,” she began, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Briar met her eyes with a curious look.

She ran her thumb across his knuckles, moving her gaze down from her son’s inquisitive eyes. “We’re getting you into therapy. There’s a clinic a couple of towns over; you’ll have sessions once a week.”

Briar’s eyes widened. “What?” He hated how small his voice sounded.

“We’re also getting you a wheelchair to make it safer for you to get around. The crutches don’t seem to be working as well as they used to.”

Briar couldn’t breathe. This was it. The final nail in his coffin. His last bit of independence ripped away and battered against the rocks.

Chapter Text

Vincent watched anxiously as Briar wheeled himself out of the therapist’s office. The poor boy looked drained. He was about to say something when Briar passed right by, heading straight for the car. Vincent followed after, hesitating when Briar stood up to fold the wheelchair and put it in the backseat. He’d insisted on doing it himself ever since he got the thing, and Vincent desperately wanted to let him have that, but every tremble and sway in his son’s posture nearly gave the older man a heart attack. Luckily for both of them, Briar put the chair away and got settled in the passenger seat without issue.

Briar had been eating more during the last few days, and even though he threw up just about half of it, he was already starting to look healthier. The color had returned to his cheeks and his hands stopped shaking. Vincent hated to think that the reason Briar was putting in more effort at mealtimes was his disdain for the wheelchair, but the only alternative was to admit that he and Agatha were guilt-tripping him into eating.

The end justifies the means, he thought grimly. At least for now. If they could get him to eat out of concern for himself, and not just to appease their worries, that would be ideal, but Vincent would settle for him eating at all. As long as he was getting the nutrition he needed, they were happy.

And so was Briar—or so they hoped. He’d gotten what he wanted. Somewhat. They’d strictly confined him to the wheelchair for the first few days, causing a fair amount of tension within the household. Since then, Briar had been pushing himself; eating as much as he could stomach, trying to build back enough strength to get his crutches back from their enforced stay in Vincent’s closet.

It wasn’t until Agatha saw him trying to walk around the bed and breakfast without any support that they agreed to give them back, on the condition that he would only use them for short distances, and always use the wheelchair when he left the house.

Briar agreed to the terms, and life returned to normal for the Gruenenfelders. At least, until earlier this morning. It was no secret that Briar did not want to attend therapy, a fact made well clear when he tried sneaking off beforehand. A feat hard to accomplish when your mobility is tied to large, clunky devices. The poor chap didn’t get far before Prunella caught him and wheeled him back inside.

Briar had threatened to run over her toes for snitching on him, which led to her claiming that if he did, she would also get a wheelchair and then beat him in a race with it. Which, of course, led to them having a race anyway. And then another race, because it didn’t count without someone to say ‘go’ apparently. They would have kept going, but the reason Vincent was around to be the race’s moderator in the first place was that he had gone looking for Briar to take him to his appointment. And anyway, Prunella had one fair and square, no matter what Briar said.

Honestly, Vincent considered it a miracle that the two of them got along as well as they did despite their difference in age. He wasn’t sure if it was because Prunella was very smart for being so young or because Briar was very good at letting himself get caught up in childish drama. Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. The two of them were quite entertaining.

The drive home passed in relative silence, Vincent waiting for Briar to initiate conversation, and Briar being very content not to do that.

Vincent cleared his throat. “So, uh… how did it go?”

“It was fine.”

“Just fine? Anything else?”

“What do you want me to say?” Briar snapped. “That I’m suddenly all better because of one session?”

“N-No, not at all!” He stammered. “I just meant, like, what do you think of your therapist? She seemed very nice over the phone.”

Briar sighed. “She was nice. Sorry for snapping at you. It’s just that that was kind of a lot. I really want to get home.”

“Oh yeah, you have a date with Chase today, right?”

Briar stiffened. “It’s not a date. All I’m doing is going over to his house.”

“Alright, alright,” Vincent chuckled lightly. “I don’t need to know. But what I want you to know is that I’m happy for you. Chase is a wonderful young man, I’m glad you’ve got him in your life.”

Briar blushed and turned back toward the window. “How about we stop talking for a while,” he muttered.

Back at the bed and breakfast, it took Briar all of ten seconds to throw himself out of the car and grab his wheelchair from the back, not even bothering to get in it as he pushed off towards the Hollow farmhouse.

Wow, I guess he really was excited to see Chase. Vincent watched as the young man pushed his own (empty, mind you) wheelchair across the yards that separated their houses. At least he’s using it as a walker, Vincent thought to himself, shaking his head.

Briar entered the farmhouse still trying to shake off the earlier embarrassment of his father reminding him that he’s supposedly dating Mr. Hollow’s grandson.

As if.

Sure, Chase was good-looking. And fun to banter with. And kind. And had a great smile. And a good singing voice. And had apparently taken care of him when he passed out…

BUT THAT DID NOT MEAN BRIAR WAS INTERESTED.

Nope. Not one bit.

In any case, he had business to attend to here, and it most certainly did not involve dreamy blondes in any way, shape, or form.

Or so he thought.

“Why are we going outside?” He asked Mr. Hollow as he followed the older man out the door and into the backyard.

“Well, I was going to go to the supermarket to get the fruit we needed yesterday, but then Chase told me that we were more than welcome to take what we need from his garden, so I thought it would be fun for us all to pick the berries together.” Mr. Hollow handed Briar a woven basket, then gestured behind him, where Chase sat hunched over a garden box, pulling out weeds.

He wore a wide-brimmed sun hat, a dirty pair of overalls, and a light pink sleeveless shirt. As Briar got closer, he noticed that the overalls had little strawberries embroidered on the legs. Cute. Chase was so absorbed in his work—and the music blaring in his earbuds—that he didn’t notice the others arriving.

The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Briar tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“I SWEAR I’m not wearing this because Prunella told me to! It’s just really hot today, and I forgot you were coming over, and it goes along with my outfit, I mean, really, I can’t not wear it, and I–”

Briar cut off his rambling. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, so Prunella didn’t tell– you know what? Never mind.” Chase cleared his throat. “Um, anyway, I’ve got raspberries and blackberries here, and strawberries in that box over there. Help yourselves.”

Mr. Hollow looked between the two boys and smiled slightly. “Why don’t you two work on harvesting this box, and I’ll get the strawberries. Meet me inside when you’re ready.”

Briar pushed his wheelchair to the side and slowly sank to his knees, wincing slightly. Chase set the basket between them and got to work picking blackberries and placing them inside. Briar began picking on his side, letting the berries mix together in the basket.

“So,” Chase began, “Your parents’ anniversary is coming up, yeah? I think what you and Prunella have planned is really sweet.”

Briar smiled. “Thanks.”

“Although,” he continued, “I also hear you’ve got a major sweet tooth, so these little lessons benefit you too, eh?” Chase said, nudging the other boy with his elbow.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Briar said, turning up his nose.

“But you didn’t deny it! What’s your favorite treat?”

“Chocolate,” Briar shrugged.

“Nice, nice, very cool. I have some chocolate bars in the house if you’d be interested? I’ll grab one for you when we bring in the berries.”

“Speaking of the berries, where did your grandfather go?”

Chase looked toward his strawberry patch, where there was a distinct lack of grandfatherly-shaped beings. And also strawberries. Chase didn’t see a single one left on the plants. It was honestly quite impressive that he picked so many in so little time, but now they’d have to can the leftovers to keep them from going bad. Chase hated canning things.

He sighed, turning around to face the house, where sure enough, he spotted his grandfather at the window with a pair of binoculars in his hands.

“HEY! MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!” Chase yelled. With his cover blown, Mr. Hollow disappeared from view; likely so he could go tell all his friends what he had just seen. Chase really regretted showing him how to make a group chat.

Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wonderful. I’ll bet you five bucks that come next week, the entire town’s social society is going to know that we’re ‘dating,’” he said, putting up air quotes. “I hate to say it, but my grandpa is a terminal gossip.”

“Why would he spread rumors if he knows we aren’t actually dating?”

“There’s no telling what goes on in that brain of his,” Chase said, dusting off his pants as he stood up. He held out a hand. “Come on, we’ve got plenty of berries now, let’s head inside.”

Briar looked up at the proffered hand, but his main focus was the boy behind it. From his angle on the ground, the sun was directly behind Chase’s head, forming a brilliant halo around his golden locks. He was positively radiant.

And Briar was positively screwed.

Chapter Text

Chase pulled Briar to his feet and walked him over to his wheelchair. Rather than get in it right away, Briar set the basket of berries in the seat and pushed it toward the farmhouse. On their way, Chase chatted amicably about whatever latest pop song had just topped the charts. Or something like that. Briar found himself having trouble concentrating on what he was saying.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t be catching feelings for some guy he barely knew. Especially not after his last relationship ended… the way it did. Briar shook his head. He really didn’t want to think about that guy right now.

When they reached the back door, Chase grabbed the basket out of the chair so Briar could lift it over the steps and through the threshold. Once inside, Briar settled into the chair, accepting the basket into his lap as Chase handed it back.

They were just about to head into the kitchen to wash the berries when they heard voices filtering through the halls of the farmhouse.

“I think Briar is still out in the garden with Chase,” Mr. Hollow was saying.

“That’s perfect! I have great news for both of them!”

Briar and Chase rounded the corner to see Mr. Hollow talking with Mrs. G.

“Mom? What are you doing here? What news?” Briar asked.

Agatha perked up when she noticed them arrive. “Boys! Great timing, I wanted to talk to you. Diane Forenski was just at the bed and breakfast to reserve the event garden for Lily’s date with Deacon tomorrow, and I thought it would be so cute if you and Chase attended as well. Both the Hollow boys on a double date! How fun is that!”

Chase and Briar shot each other an awkward glance. They were about to turn down the offer when Mr. Hollow interrupted.

“They’d love to! Isn’t that right, Chase.” Mr. Hollow said pointedly.

“Uhhhhhh…” Chase glanced once again at Briar, who looked just as confused at what was happening. “...sure?”

“Great! I’ll get it all set up for tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your date, Briar!” Agatha let herself out, humming happily as she walked home, oblivious to the embarrassment left in her wake.

Briar was fighting a losing battle with the blush on his face. He glanced up at Chase, who seemed to be just as red as he was. At least he didn’t look out of place.

“Grandpa! Why did you do that?? I don’t want to go on a double date with Deacon, do you realize how awkward that’s gonna be?”

“Focus, Chase. I need intel. You and Briar need to learn everything you can about Diane’s granddaughter and report back to me.”

Chase facepalmed. “You can’t be serious. You promised me and Deacon that you’d leave us out of your weird rivalry with Mrs. Forenski. And you know what? I’m sure Lily doesn’t have anything to do with it either.”

Mr. Hollow narrowed his eyes. “That may have been the case before, but things are different now. It’s too much of a coincidence that Lily asked Deacon out just two weeks before the annual summer bake sale. Diane must be trying to gain insider knowledge through Lily’s relationship with Deacon, but I’m wise to her game. If she wants to get the grandkids involved, then I’m more than happy to reciprocate. I’ll brief you both on your mission before your date tomorrow. For now, let’s just finish making the fruit tarts. You can bring them with you to the double date to show Diane we mean business.”

Mr. Hollow left for the kitchen, still plotting ways he could ‘get back’ at Diane. Briar lingered in the foyer with Chase. “What was that about?” He asked.

Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “My grandpa is obsessed with being better than Mrs. Forenski. It’s usually just them getting over competitive with their crafts and baking, but this is too much. I don’t want you to feel pressured to act like you’re actually dating me, we can refuse to go on the double date if you want.”

Briar felt his face heat up again. “N-no, it’s fine. We can go. Um, if you’re okay with it, that is,” he stammered, looking away.

“O-oh, cool, yeah. It would mean a lot. To my grandpa. Um, anyway.” Chase rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and walked rigidly to the living room, leaving Briar alone in the foyer.

Briar bit back a laugh. What a dork. He wheeled himself into the kitchen to join Mr. Hollow, who was already halfway through mixing the dough. He puttered around the counter, muttering about how it needed to be perfect in order to one-up Diane.

He glanced up when he heard Briar arrive. “Ah, Briar, wash those berries in the sink and cut up the strawberries in that bowl there.”

Briar got to work prepping the berries while Mr. Hollow regaled him with tales of him beating Diane at ‘just about everything’ as he put it. Briar tried not to roll his eyes. It was clear there was some sort of history between the two, but it felt a tad overdramatic. Though if Briar was being honest with himself, he wasn’t in a place to judge. Sometimes, playing up drama is the only way to keep from going insane in a town like Sugar Springs.

Once Mr. Hollow finished his stories, he showed Briar how to mix the cream for the tart filling. As Briar whisked the mixture, he heard a guitar begin to play from the other room. The chords drifted lazily through the hallways, echoing their sweet, somber melodies off the faded wallpaper and straight into Briar’s heart.

The song was divine, and that was before Chase began to sing. His voice, normally light and airy, turned rich and low, filled with a deep-seated pain that Briar knew all too well. He stood frozen in the kitchen, unable to do anything but listen to the way the lyrics seemed to pour out of Chase’s very soul.

Mr. Hollow gently took the bowl and whisk out of Briar’s hands, smiling at the way the young man didn’t so much as spare a glance his way.

Still transfixed, Briar let out a soft mumble, “This song… It’s beautiful.” As he gazed in the direction of the living room, Briar absentmindedly tried to resume stirring, only to find himself mixing the air with a nonexistent whisk. He looked sheepishly at Mr. Hollow, who let out a gentle laugh.

“Does he always play like this? It’s amazing.” He asked, fighting the urge to look back at the source of the music.

Mr. Hollow seemed thoughtful for a moment. He continued shaping the dough into the muffin tin, and Briar thought for a moment he wasn’t going to say anything, but then he spoke.

“Not as much lately,” he said. “This song in particular, he hasn’t played since Myra’s funeral.” He smiled sadly. “It was one of her favorites. Ever since then, he’s tried to keep to the more upbeat songs. Says it helps raise his spirits. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him, but hearing him play songs like this one helped me through those hard times as well.”

“Why play it today, then?” It seemed to Briar that playing a song like that would only bring back painful memories.

“Today is her birthday. He’s been trying to ignore it, but you can only run from your grief for so long. Sometimes it’s better to feel what you need to feel in order to let yourself move on.”

Briar looked back toward the living room. Should he go in there? Say something? What would he even say?

Behind him, Mr. Hollow put the pan into the oven. He stood up, dusted his hands off, then set one on Briar’s shoulder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having some company right now. Besides, there’s nothing for you to do here until the dough is finished baking.”

Briar swallowed. Steeling his nerves, he walked gingerly into the adjoining room. Chase was sitting on the couch, staring listlessly at the floor as he sang. The guitar somehow held firm in his trembling fingers. Chase felt his eyes slip shut, letting his muscle memory continue the song for him.

As Briar made his way to the couch, he noticed a framed photo next to Chase on the end table. It displayed a picturesque little family, the parents each holding onto their child’s hands as they ran through puddles in the rain. When he got closer, he could see how blurry and smudged the photo was, as if whoever had taken it was laughing so hard that the camera couldn’t focus.

The young Chase in the photo looked so happy. So carefree. Nothing like the tired man Briar saw in front of him. The light Briar had seen behind his eyes in the garden seemed to have been snuffed out, leaving the honey brown irises to be accentuated by the bags under his eyes. Briar hadn’t noticed them before. Had he been feeling this way all morning?

He sat gently on the couch next to the other boy just as Chase finished his song, slumping back against the cushions with a sigh.

Neither one said a word, and when Chase let his head fall to the side to rest on Briar’s shoulder, nobody objected.

Briar glanced down, noting the way silent tears were rolling down Chase’s face. He wrapped his arm around the shorter boy and pulled him closer.

“I believe I was promised a chocolate bar.”

Chase couldn’t help but laugh.

Chapter Text

Prunella tapped her foot impatiently against the floorboards. What could possibly be so interesting about a bathroom that Briar would spend a whole hour in one?

She pounded on the door again.

“I’m busy, Pru!”

“Doing what? I need to pee!”

Briar opened the door with a huff. His usually messy hair had been meticulously combed and parted down the middle, and his face bore the signs of subtle, yet sparkly makeup. He’d picked out one of his ‘going out’ outfits, and Prunella had to fight back a laugh. He only ever wore those when he was excited about something. He must really like Chase, then, to make such a big deal about their ‘date.’

“Well?” He asked.

“Well, what? Get out of the way so I can use the bathroom.” Prunella shoved past him and gawked at the amount of beauty supplies left strewn about the vanity. What a slob! “You made a mess in here,” she pointed out.

“Wha– I’m not done! I need to finish getting ready.”

“I’m sure Chase will think you look very nice no matter what you put on your face. Now move so I can close the door.”

Briar went back to applying his eyeliner. “Wait your turn, you little goblin! And this is not for Chase. Let’s get that very clear.”

“But you’re going on a date with him.”

Briar flushed a bright red. “W-we are not going on a date. We are attending a date. Together. It’s completely different.”

“So why are you trying to show off for him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Briar put down the eyeliner and started touching up his eyeshadow.

“Whatever. Just get out before I resort to peeing in the bushes.”

Briar scoffed. “You can hold it for two more minutes.”

Prunella had had just about enough of his insolence. It was time to call in reinforcements.

“MOM, BRIAR’S HOGGING THE BATHROOM!”

“Alright, fine! I’m leaving!” Briar scooped up the scattered odds and ends he had dumped on the counter and marched off, muttering about how he was in no way, shape, or form trying to ‘show off.’

Prunella rolled her eyes.

Briar stalked away from the bathroom. Show off? Psh, as if. Chase wasn’t worth showing off for. Briar just happened to really like this outfit. And the makeup complemented the colors, so really, he couldn’t call the outfit complete without it. And anyway, it was perfectly acceptable for people to dress up for themselves. It didn’t have anything to do with cute, next-door neighbors. Not one bit. Prunella was just reading into things. There was no way his outfit would give off the wrong impression. Everyone would see it and understand that he just likes to dress up once in a while.

He dropped his makeup bag off in his bedroom and made his way to the living room to grab his crutches from where he’d forgotten them earlier.

Vincent was sitting in an armchair doing a crossword when he looked up to see Briar enter the room. If he’d had a drink, he might have spit it out for dramatic effect. “Whoa there, Romeo! Showing quite a bit of skin, dontcha think?”

Briar looked down at himself. His shirt was slightly cropped and admittedly rather low cut, but certainly nothing egregious. “Not more than usual? I wear this shirt all the time.”

“It’s the context, Briar. If you show up to your date looking like that, it might give the impression that you ‘move a little fast’ if you know what I mean.

Briar’s face lit on fire. “A-are you saying I look like a–”

“That’s not what he meant,” Agatha intercepted, with a stern glance toward her husband. “Right, dear? You look gorgeous, Briar, and I’m sure Chase will just eat you up!”

At this point, Briar’s face might as well have melted off. The only sounds that could escape his mouth were half-aborted squeaks of indignation. Without another word, he turned back toward his room, reemerging a couple of minutes later with his red hoodie on. The embroidered jeans and decorative belts were still visible, but the—apparently—suggestive top was hidden beneath the worn red cotton of the jacket.

Briar resolutely avoided eye contact with either parent as he rushed past them and out the door to the event garden in their backyard. The table was already set up with the platters and place settings, and it looked rather nice. Agatha had chosen to put roses out as the table’s centerpiece. The red flowers and pink tablecloth looked straight out of a romantic fairytale cafe. Which, Briar supposed, was the theme of the bed and breakfast as a whole, so it shouldn’t have surprised him after all this time.

He sat at the table and sighed heavily, willing the redness in his face to go down before the others showed up.

Chase was finally on his way to the ‘date-but-not-really’ after what felt like a lifetime of lectures and conversation manipulation tactics from his grandfather. That man could talk the ear off an elephant.

Chase didn’t even really care about his grandpa’s supposed ‘security breach by way of invasive dames.’ What Chase did care about was that he was going on a fake date with an incredibly attractive boy, and he had nothing to wear for it!!

Chase had spent the entire morning—when not being lectured at, that is—sorting through his wardrobe desperately searching for something suitable to wear. In the end, he gracefully admitted defeat. If throwing yourself on your bed and unironically saying ‘woe is me’ could be called graceful.

Chase ended up wearing his teal letterman that his mother had made for him all those years ago. He used to practically live in the thing, but ever since he’d started working, he’d ended the day covered in dirt and mud more often than not. Luckily for him, mud is great for skin. Not so luckily for him, mud is not great for clothes. He’d practically been forced to replace all his go-tos with expendable hand-me-downs from the other farmhands in town.

Not that he didn’t look good in them! Chase wouldn’t be caught dead in something he didn’t feel looked semi-fabulous on him. Country guys make do, and all that.

Chase shook his head. He’d just have to hope and pray that showing up to his ‘not-date’ in casual clothing wouldn’t immediately kill the mood. Of course, now that he thought about it, Deacon would probably show up in that same stupid sweater vest that he’d been wearing for the last three years. You had to hand it to him; he knows what he likes.

Chase couldn’t be sure of Deacon’s exact clothing situation, for he’d left before Chase had woken up that morning. Grandpa told him that he was spending time with Lily before bringing her to the bed and breakfast for their brunch double date. What a lovesick nerd.

Wait a minute, would Deacon find it suspicious that Chase had a boyfriend all of a sudden? Chase wasn’t exactly known for keeping things to himself, and given how much he complained to Deacon about being single, he found it hard to believe that someone who knew Chase as well as Deacon did would accept that Chase was able to keep a relationship a secret for any worthwhile amount of time.

Well, not that it mattered all that much. Deacon doesn’t need to think they’re actually dating. And for that matter, Lily doesn’t either! Chase will just show up, make some small talk, eat some food, and get straight to the point. He’ll ask if Lily is secretly planning to sabotage their grandpa, and then make fun of his grandpa’s paranoia when the answer is ‘no.’ Any subsequent enjoyment of his ‘not-date’ would be purely coincidental and a happy accident.

Chase let himself into the bed and breakfast’s garden and went straight to the table Agatha had told him she’d set aside for the four of them. Deacon and Lily hadn’t arrived yet, so it was just Briar sitting there, playing with the drawstrings of a plain red hoodie.

A suspiciously familiar-looking red hoodie… Chase squinted as he drew nearer, trying to make out what was so familiar about the jacket.

“Hey, buddy! Hope you weren’t waiting too long, I– WAIT A SECOND, THAT’S MY STAR BRIGADE HOODIE!”

Chapter Text

Briar looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “If it’s yours, why am I wearing it?”

“That’s what I’d like to know!” Chase spluttered. He moved to sit next to Briar, and he had to admit: it certainly fit him better than it ever fit Chase. What was it he had said back then? That it was boyfriend sized?

The thought dusted his cheeks with a gentle blush. But never mind that. It was his hoodie!

Chase coughed into his hand. “Well, anyway, give it back.”

“You’re joking.” Briar did not look impressed. “It wouldn’t even fit you!”

Chase folded his arms in indignation. “I ordered it bigger on purpose. It’s boyfriend sized.”

Chase’s wording made Briar pause. Boyfriend sized? It fits me perfectly… Briar had to fight back the urge to read into things.

He ended up losing. Quite badly. His blush from earlier returned, fueled by the notion that he had been wearing Chase’s hoodie this entire time. Granted, he didn’t know that until now, but the hoodie suddenly felt a lot more special. For no reason at all. But never mind that. Chase was being a brat about this!

Briar leaned closer to Chase and batted his eyes. “What will you give me for it?”

Oblivious to the other boy’s flirting, Chase scoffed, “I’m not giving you anything! I worked hard to win that online contest and I was devastated when I lost it.”

Briar’s face became caught halfway between a deadpan stare and a scowl. The nerve! He completely ignored Briar’s advances. Trying not to pout, Briar decided that they should clear some things up. “Speaking of that, if this is yours, as you say, how did you lose it in the woods?”

Chase rolled his eyes. “If I remembered how I lost it, I would have gotten it back by now, duh! Wait, the woods? Why would you wear a random hoodie you found in the woods? And also what were you doing in the woods?”

Briar was about to answer when Chase cut him off. “And another thing! What was my hoodie doing in the woods?”

“Are you done?”

“Yes, I think that covers all my questions.”

Briar rolled his eyes. “Let’s take those in order, shall we? Yes, the woods. Because it just so happens to fit me perfectly. I was in the woods to fetch Pru from her play fort, and I have no idea why your hoodie would be there. Seems you just don’t take very good care of your things.”

Chase’s eyes went wide. “The play fort… but that was ages ago!”

“Care to explain?”

Chase facepalmed. “I was the one who helped Prunella build that fort. I must have taken the hoodie off while we were working and forgotten about it.”

“And you didn’t do anything about your missing hoodie for nearly an entire year?”

“What was I supposed to do? Put up missing posters? I didn’t know what had happened to it!”

“What’s happened is that you’ve forfeited all claims to it and it’s mine now.”

“That’s a load of malarkey and you know it! Prunella would have told you the hoodie was mine!”

“Oh would she now? Why don’t you ask her.” Briar lifted up the table cloth and peered under it. “Come on out of there.”

Prunella sheepishly crawled out from underneath the table. “Hi guys.”

“Prunella!? How long have you been down there??”

She shrugged. “Not too long.”

Chase was still in shock from apparently being spied on, so Briar took the lead with the questioning. “Pru, did you know that this hoodie belongs to Chase?”

“Yeah.”

Briar rubbed his temples. “And you didn’t think to mention to me that I’ve been wearing someone else’s hoodie for almost a year?”

“Sure, I thought about it, but I decided it would be funnier if I didn’t. Took you guys way too long to figure it out, though. It’s not funny anymore.”

“Well there you have it,” Briar said smugly, turning back towards Chase, “my intentions were pure and the hoodie is mine now.”

“That’s not fair!” Chase exclaimed, and he looked like he had more he wanted to say on the topic, but Deacon and Lily had just arrived.

“What’s not fair, Chase?” Deacon asked. He and his date settled into the chairs on the other side of the table.

Chase pointed at his so-called ‘date’ accusingly. “He stole my hoodie!”

Deacon squinted at the red hoodie in question. “Are you sure about that? It could just be any old red hoodie.”

Chase grabbed the back of Briar’s hoodie and yanked it up and to the side, so his ever ignorant cousin could see the tag. “The initials C.H. don’t just appear out of thin air, dorkin! It’s mine.”

Briar had let out a rather undignified squeak at being manhandled in such a way, and was now covering his red face with the even redder sleeves of the hoodie. Chase released him and he sank down in his chair, wondering if he tried hard enough he’d be able to join Prunella under the table unnoticed.

Deacon wasn’t much impressed by the display and gestured dismissively. “Okay? So what if it’s yours. You were always going on about it being ‘boyfriend sized.’ He’s your boyfriend and he’s wearing it. What’s the issue?”

“Don’t you bring my boyfriend into this,” Chase warned, wagging his finger.

“You know what,” Deacon shot back, “I think will bring your boyfriend into this. SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND??”

“SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND? WHAT HAPPENED TO TELLING EACH OTHER STUFF, DORKIN!”

“I COULD ASK THE SAME OF YOU!”

The Hollow cousins continued their argument, their dates spending the time awkwardly staring at each other.

“...sooo, uh. Having fun?” Lily asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Not particularly.” Briar answered, folding his arms.

Prunella poked her head out of the tablecloth. “Want to play on our game cube? We have mario kart.”

Lily looked to Briar, who shrugged. “We also have other games; she just really likes mario kart.”

“No, that's fine. I like mario kart, too!” Lily said, smiling down at Prunella, who was crawling out of the table yet again.

Prunella grinned, taking Lily by the hand and pulling her inside. Briar collected his crutches and followed suit, sparing one last glance back at their arguing boyfriends.

I’m sure they’ll work it out, he thought.

Chapter Text

Inside the bed and breakfast, Prunella eagerly led Lily to their living room and sat her down on the couch. Briar settled into the recliner and watched fondly as his little sister began setting up the game cube. She handed each of them a controller and settled down on the floor by Briar’s feet.

As the game booted up, Prunella smugly informed Lily that Briar was awful at the game, so the two of them would be teammates. After all, she had said, he needs all the help he can get.

“I call being Birdo and Peach!” She exclaimed.

Briar rolled his eyes. “No one’s fighting you for them.”

“Good. I’d win.”

Briar selected King Boo, and Lily moved her cursor around before asking, “Wait, why are we both next to the same cart?”

“This is double dash,” Briar explained. “Since we’re a team, one of us gets to drive and the other gets to throw the items.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Lily cycled through the character selection a few more times, eventually settling on Toadette, grumbling something about this version not having Shy Guy.

When they reached the course selection screen, Prunella hovered over Rainbow Road and was just about to click on it when Briar objected. “Hey! You beat me at that one earlier today. Let our guest choose the track.”

“Fineee,” Prunella relented.

“Alright, let’s do DK Mountain!” Lily leaned closer to Briar to whisper, “I’m good at that one, let’s take her ego down a notch.”

“That would be nice, but she was unfortunately telling the truth when she said I’m bad at this,” he whispered back.

“I’ll drive then.”

With the course selected, the three gamers waited with bated breath for the race to begin.

“I told you that I was waiting until me and Lily were officially dating to announce it. How long have you been keeping your relationship with Briar a secret?”

“Not long.”

“But why? You know me and grandpa aren’t homophobic.”

“It wasn’t for my sake, it was for his,” Chase huffed, folding his arms.

“What, don’t tell me Mrs. G is homophobic; I don’t believe that for a second!”

Chase palmed his forehead. “I didn’t say that, dorkin! Briar asked me to keep it a secret, so I did. His reasons are his own to tell.”

Deacon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. Can we just move on and get back to our date?”

“That’s fine by me!”

The two of them looked to the side only to be met with empty chairs. Not a date to be seen. Though, notably, the plate of chocolate brownies was half empty.

Realization shot through Chase like a bolt of lighting. “I FORGOT THE FRUIT TARTS!”

“What?”

“Ugh, Grandpa wanted me to bring the fruit tarts he and Briar made yesterday to show off to Lily so she could tell Diane that Grandpa ‘means business’, but I forgot to bring them. You go figure out where our dates went. I’ll be back.” Chase made to walk away, then paused and looked back. “And if I’m not, it’s because Grandpa killed me.”

Deacon wandered into the bed and breakfast completely and utterly ashamed at the spectacle he and Chase had just put on. Lily probably thought he was a loser now. She wouldn’t even be wrong, he thought morosely. That was loser behavior. On Chase’s part. And maybe his. But just a little.

He couldn’t find his date, nor Chase’s mysterious ‘boyfriend’. He couldn’t even find Prunella anywhere among the bright pink decor. She always shows up uninvited, but the moment he goes looking for her she’s nowhere to be found. Typical.

He did, however, bump into Mrs. G, who was on a stepladder fiddling with the wiring on a light fixture. How she knew how to do that was beyond Deacon. It was a nice looking light, though. Its arms twisted and branched like vines, with bulb covers that flared out at the edges like tulips.

She looked down and smiled warmly when she heard Deacon enter the room. “Hey, darling, how’s it going outside?”

“Uh, about that…” Deacon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Lily and Briar left. Did you see them come inside?”

“Left? Oh, sugar, what happened?”

Deacon sucked in a breath. “Well, Chase and I had… some things to say to each other. We’re fine, but afterwards we noticed it was just us two at the table.”

“Huh. Well I wonder if they’re around here somewhere. I haven’t heard anything.”

Just then, a loud voice rang through the hallways of the bed and breakfast.

“I TOLD YOU TO THROW THE SHELL BACKWARDS, NOT FORWARDS, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A GHOST!”

“I DID! THE BUTTON DIDN’T WORK!”

Deacon and Agatha turned toward the sound, then back towards each other. “I may have found them,” she laughed.

Mrs. G led Deacon into the living room, where Prunella was performing some sort of unsportsmanlike victory dance in front of a very defeated looking Briar, who was also getting chewed out by Lily.

“We could have won that round! All we had to do was secure our lead, but no, your stupid controller dropped the ball!” Lily leaned back on the couch and sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. “I need to chill out.”

“I told you he sucked at this,” Prunella said.

Briar threw a pillow at her, but he had a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, so he couldn’t have been too upset at the jibe, Deacon reasoned.

“Prunella, you’re being a bad winner,” Mrs. G gently chided.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “your skills have room for improvement, and I should create an environment with room for growth,” she recited sullenly.

Briar looked smug, and Prunella shot him a covert unimpressed stare. He smirked back at her as if to say, ‘you deserved that’.

Deacon and Lily exchanged a look and found it hard to repress a laugh at the sight of the two siblings. From what Deacon remembered of Briar from highschool, he was never this… happy. He looked so much improved from the sullen, broody boy who lurked in the library during lunch periods. Of course, Deacon had also spent his lunches in the library, so he couldn’t judge on that front.

Lily stood up and stretched her back. “Well, this has been super fun, but I should head out now. I promised my grandma that I’d help her hang up her birdfeeders this afternoon.” She sidled up to Deacon and added, “should I kiss you goodbye now, or do you wanna walk me home?”

Deacon’s entire face turned beet red, and he managed to stammer out, “W-walk? I can walk. Been doing it since I was one! H-hah, yeah. One foot in front of the other! As they say.”

It was, to be quite frank, a painful display to watch, but it seemed to have served him well, because Lily giggled before pecking him on the cheek and pulling him away by the hand.

As they left, Briar and Prunella shared a look of similar disgust at the pda they had just bore an unfortunate witness to.

Not even a full minute after the two lovesick dorks left, Chase came in from the backdoor, loudly announcing his presence with, “DORKIN WHERE’D EVERYONE GO? I’VE GOT THE TARTS NOW.”

Agatha called him into the living room and informed him that they had already gone. “But since you’re here, could you try out some desserts? Vinny is expanding our gluten free menu, and we’d like your opinion on some of the new options!”

“Ooh, you know what? I am hungry. I didn’t get around to eating the lunch you made for us, and besides, I’d never say no to free desserts!”

Chase followed her into the kitchen, and as they went, Briar could make out his mom saying, “You know you’re just like my Briar; such a sweet tooth! You two are made for each other.”

Briar sank further into the recliner and buried his face in his hands to avoid seeing Prunella’s smug grin.

An hour and countless desserts later, Chase groggily lifted his head off of the counter, having semi recovered from his sugar coma. He shifted his gaze to the side and nearly jumped when he saw the container of fruit tarts sitting next to him.

“GRANDPA’S GONNA KILL ME!”

Chapter Text

The next morning— if 1:37am could reasonably be considered morning— Briar awoke to a terrible pounding in his head and a searing pain in his hip. And shoulders. And knees. Briar sighed.

Wonderful. Just wonderful, he thought miserably. I knew I’d been feeling suspiciously good lately.

He reached out in the darkness, fumbling for the painkillers on his nightstand, only to be met with his copy of The Tempest and his water bottle, which he ever so gracefully knocked to the floor. The painkillers were not to be found. Briar rubbed his forehead, willing the pain to ease up so he could think clearly.

Oh yeah, mum took them away when she thought I was… well, anyway, where did she say she put them?

The bathroom, that’s where. Just his luck. Well, if he’d be going all the way to the bathroom anyway, he might as well take a bath. That usually helped a bit during his flare-ups. Hopefully the noise wouldn’t bother anybody.

Briar leaned off of his bed and pulled the wheelchair closer, breathing through his teeth as he slowly transferred into it.

Maybe his parents had a point when they insisted on buying him a wheelchair. He still didn’t like that they had done that for him, but he had to admit that without it he would most likely have been bedridden the entire day. And without his painkillers, no less. He’d have had to have waited for someone to wake up and fetch them for him.

Logically, he knew that the wheelchair was a much needed change. So why did it still upset him so badly every time he needed to use it? He’d briefly mentioned his dislike of the wheelchair during his intake session the other day, and Violet had told him that what they worked on in therapy was entirely up to him. If he wanted to talk about his wheelchair, he could do that. If he wanted to talk about his pain, he could do that.

She’d said that change had to be self-driven. That ultimately, it was up to him to figure out what he wanted out of the sessions. He hadn’t even wanted them in the first place, and had told her that very plainly. She’d said that was fine, and they could just stare at each other until their time was up.

Briar didn’t even last two minutes under her striking gaze. Her eyes seemed to see right through him. It was unnerving.

Violet was an intimidating woman, and Briar honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her again in five days. He’d go, of course, but only because his parents were already paying for it and he didn’t want to waste any more of their money.

Maybe he would talk about the wheelchair. Get to the bottom of why it bothered him so much.

Briar shook himself out of his thoughts as he approached the bathroom. After struggling with the door for a moment, he wheeled himself inside. The painkillers were put with the first aid kit in one of the vanity drawers, and Briar thanked the stars that they were down where he could reach them without having to stand up.

Having taken the pills, Briar began running the bath. He’d even decided to spare one of his bath bombs for the occasion. It fizzed and popped in the water, filling the bathroom with the calming scent of lavender. The water turned a sparkly purple, and Briar sank into it with a satisfied sigh.

He needed this. His joints had protested greatly while getting into the tub, but were now content to relax in the warm water.

Briar let his mind drift, content to just soak in the water until it became cold. Once the cool temperature became unbearable, Briar decided he should probably go back to bed and try to sleep. After all, he wouldn’t be getting much done today anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he slept late.

Briar pulled himself out of the tub, careful not to slip as he wrapped himself in a towel. His blood pressure had dropped quite a bit while he had been bathing, the tell-tale dizziness making itself known as he sat on the edge of the bathtub to dry himself off.

That was another good reason to have the wheelchair, Briar supposed. Standing up would be moderately hazardous at the moment; at least until his blood pressure returned to normal. Not having to wait it out is kind of nice, Briar admitted to himself as he wheeled back toward his bedroom.

Although, he continued, it does make going through doors much more difficult.

Briar settled down in bed, weighing the pros and cons of the chair as he drifted off to sleep.

When Briar next awoke, he was feeling considerably better. Not great, of course. Just better. He probably should have taken the bottle of painkillers back with him, but now that it was morning— or at least a more reasonable time of morning— he could ask someone else to grab it for him.

He glanced to the side, hoping to see what time it was on his clock, and instead was distracted by the sight of a blond haired boy sitting in his armchair, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

Briar jolted backwards, which wasn’t easy considering he was lying down. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE??”

Chase startled, dropping his phone onto the floorboards. “Jeez, buddy! You scared me!”

“I scared you??” Briar said incredulously. “Were you watching me sleep??”

Chase grimaced. “Okay, that sounds bad, I’ll admit, but just let me explain.”

Briar waited for the explanation, and when none came, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Well?”

“Oh, I thought you were going to say something. Uhh, let’s see. So this morning I was out feeding our chickens, y’know, like ya do, right? Anyway, your mom comes over and is like ‘Hey, I need to take Prunella to a dentist appointment, and Mr. G is busy making breakfast for the B&B, can you come over to keep an eye on Briar?’ and I was like ‘Umm what for?’ y’know, ‘cause I don’t really know you all that well, but then I remembered that she thinks we’re dating, and I felt really awkward and I was going to say no, but then she was like ‘He’s having a rough morning and I’d feel better about leaving if he has someone to take care of him’ so I was like ‘Dang now I feel bad’ so I came over and your dad comes up to me like, ‘Try to get him to eat something once he’s awake’ and he hands me these,” Chase held up a plate of English muffins with cream cheese and jam on them before continuing, “and I thought he was making a joke ‘cause he called them crumpets, so I laugh, but he’s like ‘What’s so funny?’ and I was like ‘Is that actually what they’re called?’ and he says ‘Yeah’ so I’m like ‘My bad I guess’ and then I came in here.”

Briar stared at the other boy for a solid minute, trying to process the jumble of words that had just been thrown at him. Something didn’t add up. “Wait a minute, how did mum know I’m having a rough morning? I just woke up.”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “About that… you’ve been kind of in and out of it for a while. But!” He exclaimed. “You seem to be fully awake now which is cool! I don’t suppose you’re interested in eating these croompets are you? Your dad insisted.”

“Crumpets,” Briar corrected, “and no, I’m not. Not right now, anyway.”

Chase twiddled with his thumbs awkwardly. “Right, uh, do you want me to leave? I’m getting the vibe that you’re not happy I’m here.” Chase stood and made to leave, but stopped short when Briar grabbed his wrist.

“Wait! I– uh,” Briar cleared his throat. “Please stay. You, uh, make nice company.” At this point, Briar was blushing furiously. If Chase asked, Briar would have made up some lie about coming down with a fever.

But Chase didn’t ask. As a matter of fact, Chase was also blushing faintly. He sat back down on the armchair, hand still in Briar’s. In between them, Chase noticed Briar’s phone on his nightstand.

“Hey! I don’t have your phone number!”

Briar blinked. “Do you want it?”

“Yeah! That way the next time you’re feeling like this you can ask me to come over yourself!”

The answer took Briar by surprise. Never in a million years did he think someone would willingly take time out of their day to comfort him just because he asked. No one outside of his family, that is.

Briar unlocked his phone so Chase could make himself a contact. When he handed the phone back, Briar noticed with a blush that Chase had named his contact ‘Prince Charming’.

“Prince Charming?” He laughed.

Chase laughed with him. “Yeah! Do you want to see what yours is?”

Briar nodded, so Chase held out his phone for him to see. There on the screen was the name ‘Sleeping Beauty 💜’ with a purple heart at the end. Briar’s own heart sped up as he read it.

“Isn’t Prince Charming supposed to go with Snow White?” Briar joked.

Chase shrugged. “It’s our story. I think we should get to choose.” He smiled at Briar, and suddenly fairy tale continuity didn’t seem to matter so much.

Chapter Text

Chase stood nervously on the porch of his aunt and uncle’s house, Briar by his side. It was sunny outside, but Chase found it hard to focus on the heat. The trees swayed in the light breeze, lazily drifting back and forth. Chase couldn’t feel the air. Briar took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

“Are you ready?”

Chase gave a weak laugh. “I should be asking you that.” He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Chase led Briar through the threshold, waving cheerfully at his cousin and grandfather as they passed by them on their way to the stairs.

Briar wrapped his arms around Chase’s shoulders for support as they began to climb the first flight. Hadn’t Briar just been in his wheelchair, though? Where did he put it? Chase shrugged it off. He had other things to be thinking about right now.

Chase knocked on the door, and smiled when he heard a faint, “Come in!”

Chase entered the room, stopping to hold the door open for Briar to wheel himself inside. There at the other end of the room, Myra sat in her bed, propped up by a copious amount of pillows and reading a book.

She set the book aside on her nightstand and held her arms out for a hug. “Charlie! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Chase melted into the embrace, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of her favorite shampoo. It was a wonder she never got tired of smelling the same thing every day for at least ten years, Chase thought. Then again, Chase had his own favorites. It wasn’t his fault that his Star Brigade brand conditioner just so happened to smell amazing!

Chase pulled out of the hug and stepped aside so she could see Briar.

“Oh, is it my turn now, Charlie?” He joked.

“Hey, she can call me that. Not you.” Chase ruffled the other boy's hair playfully.

Briar briefly fretted about fixing his hair before giving up and wheeling himself closer to the bed. He held out his arm for a handshake, but gasped in surprise when Myra grabbed his arm to pull him into a side hug.

“It’s so good to finally meet you! Charlie talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I should hope,” Briar said, eyeing Chase.

Myra laughed. “That’s between me and my boy! So tell me, is he still ticklish? Me and George used to tickle him senseless before bed each night to tire him out, the little rascal! Never knew a four year old could have so much energy!”

Briar smirked. “Ticklish, you say? Well, I’ll have to find out, won’t I?” He said, turning to grin at Chase, who took a step back.

“Woah, let’s not rush into things here! She could be lying to you!”

“All the more reason for me to fact-check her claims, don’t you think?” Briar made a show of reaching out to Chase, wiggling his fingers in a mock gesture.

Chase put a hand to his forehead and fell dramatically onto the end of the bed. “Ah! You got me!” He laughed at his own antics, enticing the others to do the same.

Everything felt right. The scene in front of him was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Myra and Briar had returned to conversation, but Chase wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, simply content to be in this moment.

Myra was looking much healthier than the last time he had seen her. How long ago would that have been? It felt like years. Her cheeks were rosy and her voice was strong. A far cry from the frail woman Chase remembered.

Chase reached up to scratch his neck. Maybe his shirt’s tag was bothering him. Hadn’t he already cut out the tags of all his shirts? Maybe he had forgotten this shirt. Looking down at it, it certainly didn’t seem to be one of his; or maybe it was new? Chase couldn’t remember.

Chase looked out the window. The sun beat down and the trees stood tall, creating a picture perfect image, framed exactly by the window. It was like the whole world was standing still, holding its breath, just waiting for something to happen.

Chase scratched his neck again.

On the nightstand, the book Myra had been reading caught his eye. Chase wasn’t a big reader, but he recognized that particular volume. It was one Myra had read to him after his father passed away. The birds on the cover seemed to look directly at him, then back to the title: I’m Still With You. Chase kind of hated that book. It was supposed to help them with their grief, but every time he heard a birdsong, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his dad. Of the music he would play. Of the songs he would sing to Chase every night. Of the warmth that he had lost so very long ago.

Chase scratched his neck again.

Myra pulled him out of his thoughts with a light kick from under the blankets. “Earth to Chase! You still with us, darlin’?”

Chase chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, you were saying something about birds?”

Briar raised an eyebrow. “No, we were going to go grab some dinner from downstairs. Are you feeling okay?”

Chase looked away. He didn’t want to spoil the mood by admitting that he had been thinking about his dad. Not when his mother and his boyfriend were right there in front of him, trying to celebrate... what was it they were celebrating again?

Chase moved to scratch his neck again and came back with a piece of hay in his hand.

That wasn’t right.

Chase stared at the piece of hay. The world seemed to dim around him as his focus zeroed in on the offending piece of dry grass. He could barely make out the muffled sounds of voices. Or was it just one voice?

This was all wrong.

It’s not supposed to be here. It can’t be here.

A hay bale fell on top of Chase, startling him awake. Chase jolted upright, pushing the bale off his lap in a panic.

Silver laughed at him. “Welcome back to the world of the livin’! Now, as much as I tell you that you need to sleep more, I didn’t mean on the job, Chase.”

He was in a barn. Chase was sitting against a hay bale in a barn. The smell of dried grass filled his nostrils as he tried to regain his bearings. This must be the Clarkes’ barn, he thought. He vaguely remembered saying he’d help them with something. Chase reached behind his neck and grabbed the piece of hay that had been irritating him.

Chase didn’t respond to Silver. He might not have even heard her, for all that he reacted. He just stared at the piece of hay in his hand.

Silver looked concerned. Worry settled in her gut as she set her pitchfork down against the wall and walked over to sit next to him. “Hey, are you okay?”

Chase heaved a sigh. “Not really, but I’m trying so hard to be.”

Silver pulled him closer and he rested his head on her shoulder. “I get it. This is a hard time of year for you, isn’t it.”

“I… was dreaming about my mom,” he whispered.

Silver’s heart broke. She knew as well as anybody the pain of losing someone close. “Oh, Chase. I’m so sorry.”

Chase wiped away the tears that had begun to form in his eyes and cleared his throat. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure thing, hun. How’s everything between you and your boyfriend?”

Chase pulled back to stare incredulously at her. “How do you know about that??”

Silver at least had the decency to look semi-ashamed for being in the know of what was supposed to be a simple lie between families. “Well, your grandpa told Ethel, who told Gertrude, who told Elise, who told Alan, who told Edgar, who told my moms, who told me. Sorry.”

Chase buried his face in his hands. “So the whole town knows.”

“Pretty much. You know how old people are, and this town was starved for some good gossip anyway."

Chase sighed. “We’re not actually dating. You know that, right? It’s just some lie we made up as a cover story for, well I probably shouldn’t tell you, considering you’re in on the gossip train. But anyway, me and Briar are not dating.”

Silver leaned closer to poke his cheek. “Then why are you blushing?”

“Cuz I kinda maybe sorta might actually like him. Maybe. Augh, I don’t know! I only met the guy like two weeks ago, but he’s so hot,” Chase lamented. “We’ve spent some time together to make the lie believable, and I think I’m actually starting to fall for him.” Chase pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head onto them to hide his reddened face.

“How is that a problem?” Silver asked.

“Because none of it is real!” Chase exclaimed. “How am I supposed to know if he’s actually interested, or if he’s just really good at acting! I don’t want to be the only one catching feelings and end up looking stupid when he inevitably doesn’t need me anymore!”

“Look, I don’t think you should be stressing yourself out over this. Just let things run their course. Besides, you’ll give yourself gray hairs if you keep that up.”

Chase snorted. “You would know. How do you end up completely gray in your twenties? That’s got to be some kind of record.”

“They don’t call me Silver for nothing,” she joked. “And you’re nineteen, aren’t you? Just give it one more year and you’ll see.”

“You didn’t have to make that sound so ominous, Sil.”

She laughed. “Ooooh, Chaaase, beware the gray haiir! It’s coming for youuuu!”

Chase shoved her away by the shoulder. “Pfft, shut up!”

Once the two of them were laughing, and Silver was confident that Chase had been properly cheered up, she stood and beckoned for him to follow suit.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s about lunch time and I’ve got some havarti in the fridge with my name on it.”

Chase followed Silver out of the barn, the piece of hay forgotten behind them.

Chapter Text

Inside the Clarkes’ kitchen, Silver set out a tray of various meats, cheeses, and fruits. Sunlight filtered through the window, bouncing off the cheerful yellow wallpaper and scattering reflections off of the pitcher of sweet tea that the Clarkes’ liked to keep out during the summer. Chase grabbed an apple from the tray before flopping down at the table, the old wood protesting under the sudden weight. Chase rested his head on the red checkered table cloth and closed his eyes, making no moves to eat the apple he had taken.

Silver eyed him from where she sat at the counter, concern visible in her pink eyes. “Are you still tired?”

Chase let out a humorless laugh, and didn’t lift his head before speaking. “When am I not?”

Silver frowned, setting her wedge of cheese back onto the tray before rounding the counter and sitting next to Chase at the table. She took his head in her hands and gently lifted it to get a better look at his face. He certainly looked tired. The poor boy’s eyes were sunken, and his normally glowing skin looked pale and clammy.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Chase could see every thought that passed through her mind. Silver really needed to work on her poker face. He pulled out of her hold and turned away before resting his head back down on the table.

“...Chase, I really think you should go home and rest. Your… cold might be coming back.”

Chase nearly laughed again. He had almost forgotten that that was what he called it. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get some food in me and I’ll be raring to go.”

Despite the pep that he had worked so hard to put into his voice, Chase made no moves to follow his own advice. The apple still lay where he had set it on the tablecloth.

Silver needed backup. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but something was wrong with Chase. Maybe he’d been working too hard lately. Didn’t he say he worked for some other farms as well? He already spent a considerable amount of time working with her on her parent’s farm; she couldn’t imagine he had the energy to do much of anything else.

Silver got up as quietly as she could and rounded a corner into their living room. She heard faint coughing from Chase as she left, as if he had been waiting for her to leave the room. She brought her phone out of her pocket and sent out a quick text to her mom.

Not even a minute later, Abigail Clarke burst through the door and stormed past her daughter towards the kitchen. The stout woman wasn’t keen on getting interrupted while milking her cows, which Silver knew better than anyone. It must be pretty serious to risk getting caught in the fallout.

“Charles Everett Hollow.” Chase jumped to attention in his chair. “What’s this I hear about your ‘mysterious cough’ coming back?”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. “Oh, haha, you know. I must still be fighting off that cold. You know how it’s been coming and going. Nothing to worry about.”

“BULLSHIT.” Abigail slammed her fist on the table, making Chase jump again. “You’ve been fighting off this ‘cold’ for more than a month now. Either you’re sick or you’re not; none of this ‘coming and going’ nonsense. I’ll not take anymore of your excuses. Go home and rest. See a doctor.”

Chase scrambled to his feet, knocking the chair back as he did so. “Woah, it’s fine. I’m not– I’m not sick! Actually, I think I’d like to get back to work now. Thanks for the apple!” Chase rushed to the backdoor, pausing halfway through the threshold as he doubled over in a coughing fit.

Abigail looked back at where her daughter lingered in the hallway. Silver fidgeted with her hands and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I hear him coughing in the fields sometimes,” she whispered. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Abigail spun around to glare at her stupid little farmhand, but her gaze softened when she saw him leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing in ragged wheezes. She sighed. “Chase, look at me.”

He turned around warily, like he was scared to obey, but only slightly more scared of what would happen if he didn’t. He met her eyes, and she was right. He looked terrified. His brown eyes were wide; just waiting for their fears to come true.

“Chase. You need to go home. There’ll be plenty of work for you here when you’re better, but I can’t in good conscience keep you working while you’re sick. Go home.”

Chase started breathing harder. “...I-I can’t! I need this job, please, Mrs. C. I swear I’m fine.”

She took a step closer, putting them eye to eye. “Chase, I’m not asking you as a friend. I’m telling you, as your employer, you may not work until you’ve healed. I care about you, Chase, I don’t want to see you work yourself to death. If you’re so worked up about the money, we can figure something out. For now, though, I’m sending you home.”

Chase sank down to the worn hardwood floor with a sob, limbs trembling and chest heaving. “I-I can’t. Please, I can’t go home like this.”

Abigail pursed her lips. Spinning on her heel, she brushed past Silver, telling her to take Chase to the guest bedroom while she was out.

She stepped out onto the front porch, furiously typing on her phone. She had to redo the number three times because she kept hitting the wrong ones in her haste.

Finally the line began to ring, and she paced back and forth, willing her temper to go down before the call connected.

At last he picked up, and Ralph’s voice came through the speaker, “Hey, Abi, what–”

“Ralph,” she cut him off, “just when were you planning on doing something about Chase?” She demanded.

“Chase? What about him?”

Abigail stopped dead in her tracks. “Are you DAFT?? The boy’s unwell! He’s been trying to hide a cough from me for nearly two months. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Silence.

“Ralph? Did you hear me?”

Ralph dropped his phone. It clattered to the ground, startling Briar and Prunella, who were finishing up the decorations on the cake they had just baked. It was a fine looking thing, if Ralph did say so himself. They had even made it gluten free. They were all planning to surprise Chase with it when he came home from work. Now it sounded like he wouldn’t be coming home on his own.

“Mr. Hollow? Is everything alright?” Briar asked.

He didn’t respond. Ralph’s heart rate spiked, and his thoughts started racing a million miles an hour. He needed to process everything that Abi had just told him. Chase has been coughing? His eyes darted across the room, trying to center himself. He needed to think clearly.

It couldn’t be what he thought, right? It could very well just be a normal cold, right?

But no, Chase wouldn’t hide a cold from him. And for two months? No, this was something far worse. But why would Chase work so hard to keep it from him? He has to know how serious it is, doesn’t he?

How could he have missed it? Is he truly so unobservant that he would fail to notice his own grandson falling ill?

Then again, Chase was hardly ever at home these days. He worked so often, and spent so much time out in his garden.

Was it all so he could avoid Ralph? He hated to think that. That Chase would go to so much trouble to keep secrets from him. And about his health, no less.

They had just been smiling and laughing together during their game night yesterday! Ralph hadn’t seen Chase that happy in ages, and he’s been sick this whole time?

Ralph sucked in a breath. They needed to know for sure. All this catastrophizing wasn’t going to help anyone. He needed to be one hundred percent sure it wasn’t what he worried it was.

He scooped up his phone and rushed to grab his keys, assuring Abi that he was on his way before hanging up on her.

“Mr. Hollow? What’s going on?” Briar and Prunella peered nervously over the counter at him.

He shot a quick glance back at them. “I need to go pick up Chase, you two stay here. Or, uh, why don’t you take Prunella back home.”

Briar looked worried when Chase’s name was brought up, and opened his mouth to say something, but Ralph was already rushing out the front door.

As he started the rickety old pickup truck, Ralph found Dale’s contact and started calling him.

Dale picked up, and greeted him warmly. “Hey dad! This is great timing, I’ve been meaning to call you. Can you tell Chase to stop sending money? I’ve tried telling him he doesn’t have to, but you know how stubborn he is.”

Ralph’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Dale sighed. “He’s got it in his head that he needs to pay me back for helping with Myra’s medical bills. I keep telling him that it’s fine, but he won’t listen to me. I thought you knew?”

Ralph’s mind was reeling. Just how many things has Chase been keeping from him? Is that why he’s been working so hard? To pay back Myra’s debts? Why would he think he needs to do that?

Ralph let the call go quiet, trying to wrap his mind around this new development.

“Dad, is everything okay?”

“How likely is it that Chase could inherit cancer from Myra?” Ralph blurted out. No sense in beating around the bush.

Dale was quiet for a moment. “...Well, genetics certainly can play a part, but lung cancer is most often due to environmental causes… Is he… displaying symptoms?”

“Apparently! I just got a call from Abigail, and she says he’s been feeling sick for two months! Dale, I– I had no idea. Chase… has been keeping a lot from me, apparently.”

Dale sucked in a breath. “Look, if you’re really worried about it, dad, I can schedule an appointment for Chase.”

“Please. I need to go now, text me the appointment details.” Ralph pulled into the Clarkes’ driveway, where he saw Abi out on the porch waiting for him.

Ralph rushed up to her, panting. “Where is he?”

“Asleep in the guest room,” she said, leading Ralph inside and up the stairs. “Poor kid just about hacked up a lung before we put him down.” She stopped them just outside the door. “Do you really think it’s serious?” She asked. “Might just be a bad virus, like he claims.”

“I can only pray that it is, but I know Chase. He wouldn’t try to keep it hidden from everyone unless he thought it was bad. Stupid boy. Probably thinks he’s doing everyone a favor by not telling anyone.”

Abi stepped aside and let Ralph enter the room. It was a cheery little thing, with bright blue stripes on the walls and glow in the dark stars still stuck to the ceiling. Posters and amateur paintings littered the walls, and a small box of toys gathered dust in the corner. It seems Abi and Deb never redid the decor after their youngest passed away.

The bright room was a stark contrast from the boy who lay in the bed before him. Chase was fast asleep, the dark circles prominent under his eyes showcasing his exhaustion. He was barely breathing; each breath shallower than the last.

Silver sat by his side, holding one of his hands in hers. When she noticed Ralph she stood and left, closing the door behind her.

Ralph settled into the chair Silver had just vacated, resigning himself to an agonizing wait, for he didn’t want to disrupt Chase’s slumber. Supposedly he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. That was another thing about his grandson that Ralph had to learn secondhand.

He sighed. Chase used to tell him everything. Even when Ralph would really rather not hear about how hot that one boy band member was. Now he longed more than anything for that Chase to come back. The Chase who had a fire in his soul. The Chase who had a dream, and would do anything to make it happen. The Chase who was happy.

Ralph had never actually thought that Chase would become a pop star. After all, they live in Nebraska, for Christ’s sake! Not exactly a breeding ground for musical celebrities. But the boy’s enthusiasm had been so infectious that he couldn’t help but hope alongside his grandson.

The day Chase had given up was devastating. Not as much as it was for Chase, naturally, but Ralph’s heart just about broke when he saw the defeated look on his boy’s face. The light behind his eyes was gone; replaced by a bitter understanding of the world.

That had been a hard time for the whole family. Maybe Myra’s death had something to do with his sudden change in demeanor. She was always Chase’s biggest supporter. His dreams were largely for her sake, and losing her must have broken something inside him.

He never smiled the same way after she died. It never quite reached his eyes.

Ralph was shaken from his musings when he heard a beep from his pocket. He brought his phone out to see a text from Dale.

Oh, Ralph remembered, all right. How could he forget?

Chapter Text

Chase awoke to the nigh ear-splitting sound of his grandfather on a phone call. The gruff old man was currently pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed Chase had previously been sleeping peacefully in.

Nobody in Sugar Springs would be able to tell you the reason behind it, but as soon as Ralph picks up the phone, any and all knowledge of an ‘inside voice’ is all but thrown out the window.

When Chase was younger, Deacon had roped him into conducting several ‘tests’ on the phenomenon. Though calling them tests is rather generous for two middle schoolers prank calling their grandfather and laughing about it from the other room.

Despite the amount of jokes made about his lack of volume control, it wasn’t as if he was always the loudest person in the room. Far from it, in fact. Ralph was routinely among the most soft-spoken seniors at their weekly bingo nights. What that said about the other elders of Sugar Springs is not something Chase wished to remember at that particular moment. Though the memories of dentures being lobbed across the room did manage to bring a faint smile to his face. That had been one hell of a bingo night.

Chase tuned back into reality just in time to hear his grandfather trying desperately not to sound like a Karen to whichever poor soul was on the other end of the line.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, lad! I just need to confirm that this clinic and all of its employees are still within our insurance’s network.”

Clinic? What is he talking about? And why is he in my room?

“No, I am not being paranoid. Last time we got stuck with a doctor who was out of network, and the bill they forced on us wouldn’t just knock your socks off: you’d be left a double amputee at the ankles!”

Is he talking about mom’s last round of chemo? But that would mean he’s talking to someone at the cancer clinic…

Chase’s eyes widened, and he shot up, looking frantically around to confirm that this was not, in fact, his bedroom. He was at Silver’s place. But why was grandpa here then?

A sharp pain in his chest brought his attention back to the reason he had been sleeping in Silver’s house in the first place— and in jeans, no less. No wonder he wasn’t comfortable.

Wait, they didn’t tell grandpa, did they? He thought in a panic. No, that’s impossible. They don’t even know.

Chase ran a hand through his hair and sighed in relief. Grandpa still hadn’t noticed that he was awake; too busy getting transferred between secretaries and representatives to spare a glance at the boy who was supposedly still out cold.

As quietly as he could, Chase inched out of the covers and tiptoed to the door, silently thanking whoever took his shoes off for the fact that he was able to walk quietly. Wait a minute, where did they put his shoes!? Chase changed his mind; he’s now cursing whoever took his sneakers and decided to play hide and seek with them.

Well, shoes or no shoes, Chase didn’t want to risk getting caught by his grandpa if he could help it. It would be a hard conversation if Ralph cornered him, and Chase was more than happy to take a rain check on all that drama. Preferably forever. Or, you know, however long he lasted.

He quietly snuck out the open bedroom door and hoped for all he was worth that his shoes would be by the front door downstairs. He could slip out and no one would be the wiser.

Chase had successfully crept down the stairs and was now passing the front room to get to the doorway. He was almost home free! Still no sign of his shoes, but walking home barefoot wouldn’t be that bad, right? Better than seeing the disappointed look on grandpa’s face, at least.

Chase was silently applauding his spy/burglar skills when a sharp voice made him freeze in his tracks.

“Just where do you think you’re going, young man!” Mrs. C exclaimed.

Chase slowly turned around, doing his best to come up with a good excuse on the fly. He cleared his throat, trying just a little too hard to look casual, and not like a kid who’d been caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. “Home. Just like you wanted, right?”

Abigail fixed him with a hard stare and folded her arms. “Ralph came here to take you home. Where is he?”

Chase laughed weakly. “Oh, pssh, grandpa? Nah, he’s busy so I figured I’d just walk home. Don’t wanna bother him, y’know?”

She looked down to his feet, clad only in his teal, star covered socks, then back up to his face to raise an eyebrow at him. “Without your shoes?”

Chase began to sweat. “It’s better for your feet.”

Abigail did not look impressed. “Why don’t I join you.”

Chase blinked. “Come again?”

“On your walk,” she clarified. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thanks!” Chase all but ran out the front door, sighing in relief as he finally got out of the suffocating little farmhouse.

Normally, on his walks home, Chase would keep to the dirt and weeds on the side of the road on the off chance that someone would actually use the asphalt for its intended purpose. See, Chase didn’t much fancy getting run over. Today, however, he hugged the edge of the tarmac, hoping to minimize the damage to his favorite socks.

It didn’t seem to be working, though, as the bottoms of his socks now bore foot-shaped black stains. What a pain. Chase grumbled under his breath about how hard it would be to wash those out.

“What are you running from?”

Chase just about jumped out of his skin, and for a split second, he could swear his soul left his body. “Jesus! Where did you come from?”

“I’ve been walking with you the whole time. You’re remarkably unobservant,” Abigail pointed out. “I’ll ask you one more time. What are you running from?”

Chase sped up a little, refusing to look back at the stout woman. He could feel her gaze on his back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know a lot of things, sure, but you do know what I’m talking about.” Abigail kept pace behind him, allowing him to keep the meager distance he had put between them. “What do you expect to gain from lying to everyone?”

Chase’s shoulders tensed. “I’m not lying.”

“Try again, sweetheart.”

Chase stopped walking and sighed heavily, but still didn’t look back. “Does– does grandpa know?”

“Know what?” She prodded.

“That I’m…” Chase clenched and unclenched his hands at his side, staring blankly at the ground in front of him. “Sick,” he finished.

“He’s certainly worried about the possibility, but we all know it’s not a cold we’re talking about, so don’t even try that sorry excuse on me again.”

“Fine,” Chase spat, whirling around to face her. “Cancer. It’s cancer. Are you happy? Does hearing it out loud make you feel better? Because I don’t! I don’t… feel better.” Chase’s voice trembled, and he pressed his palms against his eyes, wishing he could force back the stinging tears. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Abigail froze. She’d never heard Chase swear like this before. He’d always find some silly replacement that would catch you off guard and force a laugh out of you before you even knew what was happening.

“Chase, I… you’re sure? That it’s… cancer?”

“We… haven’t checked,” Chase admitted. “But I’ve seen it all before. I know what it looks like.” Chase shook his head and resumed walking, willing the painful memories of his mother to the back of his mind.

“So why not say anything!?” Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation as she moved to follow him. “If you’re so sure, you should have taken care of it ages ago! You know how important it is to catch these things early on!”

“We caught hers early, and look what a difference that made!” Chase walked faster. “There’s no point in getting anything done. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want anyone to know about it. So I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone.”

Abigail jogged a little to catch up with him, reaching for his arm to slow him down, and huffing when he shoved her off. “That’s it? You’re not even going to try? The Chase Hollow I know would never just… give up like this.”

Chase spun around to face the short woman yet again, his face a mix of anger, indignation, and pain. “Well, maybe I’m tired, okay? Maybe I’m tired of pretending that everything will work out fine. Maybe I’m tired of keeping everyone else happy. Maybe I’m tired of pretending that I’m happy. Maybe I want to give up. Maybe I want it to kill me!”

Abigail gasped.

Chapter Text

For a moment, the two just stared at each other in shocked silence. Abigail shifted on her feet, at a loss for words. What does one even say to a confession like that?

Chase’s eyes were wide, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had just said.

The silence stretched on until the rumble of the tattered old pickup truck could be heard approaching.

Ralph jumped out of the cab, the engine still running where he had parked the truck on the side of the seldom-used road.

Chase and Abigail maintained eye contact as the old man ran towards them, Chase silently pleading with her not to say anything.

“Chase! You had me worried sick, lad.” Ralph enveloped his youngest grandson in a bone-crushing hug. “Why did you run off? I came to get you.”

Chase meekly returned the hug. “Sorry, Gramps. Didn’t want to bother you.”

Ralph pulled back, but kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders, steering him away from his staring contest and towards the awaiting truck. “We need to have a talk, son.”

Chase sighed heavily. “Oh, goodie.” He swung the door open with a little more force than necessary, wincing as the hinges creaked loudly, then brightening up when he laid his eyes on his bright teal converse on the bench. “Oh, my shoes!”

Ralph left him to get situated in the truck, then returned to Abigail, who had shot him a ‘we also need to talk’ look.

Abigail grabbed his arm and steered Ralph so they were facing away from the young man in the truck.

“Ralph,” she hissed, “It’s bad. He does think it’s cancer, and he does not want treatment.”

“What?” Ralph made to look back at Chase, but was stopped by Abigail grabbing his face and yanking him back to look at her.

“Don’t look at him. We need to be careful about this, or he’ll bolt again.”

“Why would he tell you and not me?” Ralph fretted. “Chase knows better than anyone how serious lung cancer is.”

“Exactly,” Abigail sighed. “He’s convinced himself that everything is hopeless and that he’s going to die. Not really something he’s excited to share. Especially not when you’re all still mourning Myra.”

“But–”

Her gaze softened. “Put yourself in his shoes. Would you want to bring more pain to your loved ones by telling them that they’re about to lose another family member?”

Ralph pinched the bridge of his nose. “We wouldn’t be at risk for losing him if he’d just show some foresight and get help!”

“That’s another thing… Ralph, he said he wants to die.”

“HIM TOO!?”

Abigail flinched back at the sudden increase in volume. “What do you mean ‘him too?’ Is Deacon suicidal or something?”

“No, not Deacon— as far as I know, anyway. Seems like nobody tells me anything anymore. Anyway, do you know Agatha and Vincent’s boy?”

“The goth kid? Aren't he and Chase dating?”

“Well, not really. But yeah, him. I’m teaching him how to bake, and a couple of weeks ago he implied that he’d be better off dead.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Ralph looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. Agatha and Vincent put him in therapy, but I’m not sure it’s helped yet. And if we’re going to be paying for chemo again, I’m just not sure that’s an option for us…” He shook his head. “We’ll figure something out. We have to.” With a sigh, he turned back toward the truck, where they saw Chase’s sleeping face smushed against the window.

“Alright, well, good luck. And Ralph?” Abigail hesitated, unsure how to continue. “We’ll be here for you: me and Debbie. Anything you need, just ask.”

The mask of a stern, put-together military veteran was one Ralph wore with pride, but with everything that had been happening, the words had barely left Abigail's mouth before he found his eyes watering. Now worried that he wouldn’t be able to speak without his voice quivering, Ralph opted instead to nod.

It seemed to have been a good enough response for Abigail, because she gave him a sad smile as they parted ways.

Ralph climbed into the truck as quietly as he could, forcing his shaky breaths to even out. His own fears and reservations didn’t matter. Chase needed him, and Ralph would be damned if he couldn’t be there for him. He would be their rock. Both of them. Steady and firm. Keeping everyone on the right track and moving forward. He could do that. He didn’t have a choice.

Ralph put the truck in gear and started them on the path back home, mulling over what their options were, tapping his fingers against the wheel restlessly.

Chase stirred, then coughed weakly. His body was still limp against the door, the seatbelt just barely holding him in place.

“...Chase?” He almost didn’t want to speak, to disturb the quiet of the truck’s cab. But they’d need to talk eventually, and that might be a little easier to manage if Chase couldn’t disappear again.

Chase didn’t answer for a moment, and just as Ralph had accepted that he was still asleep, he spoke up, his quiet, raspy voice drifting lethargically across the cabin. “Did you say something?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Chase. Why?”

Chase didn’t look his way, instead choosing to stare out the window, counting the trees as they passed them by. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been working a lot.”

“Why are you working so hard?”

Chase chewed on his answer for a minute. “Not much else for me to do, is there?”

“What about your music?”

“I wasn’t getting anywhere with it.”

“Still. It made you happy,” Ralph shrugged.

“Does that matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Because I’m finally doing what everyone wants me to. I’m thinking realistically about my future and doing what needs to be done.”

“Are you, though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chase said, eyeing his grandfather.

“Dale told me about your monthly payments. You’re not keeping anything that you earn. You never wanted to be a farmer, anyway.”

“Well, maybe I finally grew up. Dale should be happy. Everyone should be happy.”

“Are you happy?”

“Of course I am.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“M’just tired.”

The old truck pulled into the farmhouse’s gravel driveway and settled to a stop. Chase reached for the door handle but stopped short when Ralph locked the doors.

“Grandpa? What are you—”

“Just tell me the truth, Chase. Please?”

Chase froze. “I– I am!”

Ralph sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “You’re getting your chest x-rayed tomorrow at noon.”

“What!? Why?”

“I don’t know, Chase.” Ralph shook his head, unlocking the doors and stepping out. “You tell me.”

Chase flinched as the door fell shut, leaving him alone.

Briar sat alone in the Hollow’s living room, bouncing his leg to let out some of his restless energy. Mr. Hollow had been gone for a while. Was he alright? Was something going on with Chase? Were they in an accident? Should he call 911?

Prunella had long since gone home, and Briar was starting to wonder if he should have just gone with her. Maybe whatever had happened was a family matter, and they wouldn’t want him butting in.

Yeah, he should probably go. Sitting in their house and catastrophizing wouldn’t help anyway.

Briar was just fetching his crutches from where he had left them against the wall when the front door burst open.

An upset-looking Ralph bustled past him and started pacing on the rug in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Hollow? Are you ok?”

The older man ran a hand through his short, gray hair. “Not really, son. Not really.”

Briar was taken aback by the bluntness. “O-oh. Um. Is… Is there something I can do to help?”

“Not unless you’re good at getting stubborn grandkids to open up,” Ralph muttered offhandedly.

“Is Chase okay? Where is he?”

“He’s not okay, but he won’t tell me that.” Ralph flopped roughly onto the nearest armchair. “He’s in the truck outside. If he didn’t run away again, that is.”

Briar pursed his lips. Grabbing his forearm crutches, he left Mr. Hollow to his devices and ventured out the front door.

Sure enough, Briar could see Chase’s blond hair through the truck’s windshield. He had his head in his hands. Did they have a fight or something?

Briar rounded the truck to get to the passenger side and knocked on the door. Chase jolted up and looked around wildly, sighing when he saw it was just Briar.

Chase opened the door. “You scared the bejeezus out of me, buddy! What are you doing here?”

Briar opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It just now occurred to him that he didn’t think this far ahead and didn’t know what to say. Should he ask how he’s doing? If everything was alright between him and his grandpa?

“I made you a cake.”

“Oh. That’s really thoughtful of you, buddy! But you know I can't have gluten, right?”

Briar’s cheeks reddened. Why did I say that? “It’s gluten-free. We wanted to surprise you. Um. Surprise.” He brought his hands up to do what someone well-versed in interpreting awkward gestures might call ‘a poor man's jazz hands.’ The effect was dampened by the fact that Briar’s arms were still in the cuffs of his crutches, and though they did rotate, the range of movement was not nearly wide enough to accommodate his pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

The crutches swung up and whacked Chase’s shins. If Briar could, at that moment, he would have chosen to turn to ash and fly away in the breeze, nary a care in the world. But he couldn’t. So he was left stammering out a belated apology to Chase, who thought the whole thing was immensely funny.

Chase clutched his shin even as he belted out a laugh, assuring Briar that he was fine.

Chase’s laughter died down, and he wiped away a tear. Whether from pain or mirth, Briar couldn’t tell. Chase cleared his throat. “Why don’t we go try out that cake. Your baking’s getting better every time you come over.”

Briar perked up, following behind Chase as he walked to the porch. “You think so?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m not much of a baker myself— too many rules— but my grandpa is probably the best person in town to learn from. You’re doing great.”

Briar’s blush returned.

Wait, didn’t I come out here for a reason? Briar thought. What was it…

Oh yeah, Mr. Hollow had said that Chase wasn’t okay. But he seemed fine? He smiled and laughed with Briar just like he always did.

Maybe it’s nothing.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Ralph hoped to keep Chase in his sight until the appointment so he could ensure that they made it on time. He knocked on his grandson’s door, but was met with silence. Strange, Chase was usually an early riser. Ralph tested the doorknob and found it unlocked.

He peeked inside and his jaw dropped at the state of the room. It was clean. Not spotless, to be sure, but certainly much cleaner than it had been since… well, since Chase moved in with him. The bed was made, nothing was on the floor, the desk was semi-organized, and even his clothes were put away. Ralph could actually see the floor!

He couldn’t, however, see Chase.

Ralph started to worry. He had already told all the other farms to turn Chase away if he tried to go to work, so he shouldn’t be out of the house this early.

Ralph opened the door to Deacon’s room, hoping to ask if he knew where Chase was. Deacon, however, was out cold. “At least someone in this house is sleeping well,” Ralph grumbled.

After a couple of minutes searching, Ralph determined that Chase was not in the farmhouse. Where would he have gone? Did he run away?

The horrible thought nestled itself deep within Ralph’s subconscious, weighing him down. Is the truck still here?

He ran out to the front in a panic, praying that his grandson wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the truck and leave them.

It was still there. Ralph sighed in relief, but began to pace. Where in the world is that boy?

A little jingle began playing from Ralph’s pocket, reminding him that it was six am: time to feed the chickens.

Ralph face-palmed. He has a phone! But more importantly, Chase has a phone. He brought up his saved numbers and started calling Chase.

The faint sound of Chase’s favorite boy band started playing from behind the house.

Ralph felt stupid again. He hadn’t thought to check the garden! Surely Chase was just tending to his plants.

Ralph rounded the farmhouse, but paused halfway to the garden, right outside the chicken coop. The catchy pop song was coming from inside the coop.

Ralph waded through the hens feeding outside the coop. It seemed that Chase had come out to feed them himself. He peeked through the door and saw Chase asleep on the boards, a half-collected basket of eggs beside him. There was also a chicken lying on his chest.

Ralph canceled the call absentmindedly. The ringtone hadn’t woken Chase up; he must be exhausted.

The chicken noticed Ralph staring at them and hopped up, ruffling her feathers.

That got Chase’s attention. He sat up groggily. “Whazzappening,” he mumbled. The chicken clucked at him, angry that he had further dislodged her. “Oh, you little–!” Chase coughed briefly. “Go eat breakfast with the others, Count Cluckula. Out,” he said, pointing toward the door.

Only then did he notice Ralph at the entrance to the coop. “Morning, Gramps.” Chase scooted across the floor of the chicken coop until he could get out and stand up. He cracked his back, earning him a couple of satisfying pops.

“Uh, good morning. Is there a reason you were asleep in the chicken coop?”

“Well, I’ve been up for a while,” Chase said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Doing what?”

Chase eyed him, “Finding out that I’ve been blacklisted from every single one of my jobs. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Ralph sighed exasperatedly. “It’s for your own good, Chase! You’ve been spreading yourself too thin lately.”

“You never had a problem with it before,” Chase countered, walking to the back door.

“I didn’t know you were sick before!” Ralph said, moving to follow him.

“I’m not sick.” Chase snapped, looking back at him. “And the world isn’t going to stop turning just because I had a coughing fit.”

Ralph pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you being so difficult about this? Can’t you just accept that I’m trying to help you?”

Chase spun around and jabbed his finger into Ralph’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help. I’m fine. Just drop it and we can all go back to normal.”

Chase began coughing again, and Ralph moved to steady him. “Chase… No matter what we pretend, this isn’t normal. I just…” Ralph pulled Chase into a hug, pressing the young man’s head against his chest so he wouldn’t be able to see the tears pooling in the older man’s eyes. “I don’t think I can bear to lose you.”

Chase clutched the back of Ralph’s shirt, burying his face further into the red fabric. “It’s better this way,” he mumbled.

“Better for whom, Chase? You’re in pain.” Ralph rubbed his grandson’s back and cradled his head, trying anything he could think of to comfort the boy. They were both crying softly.

“And is this pain any better or worse than what chemo did to mom? I c-can’t put us all through that again. Can’t we just act like everything’s okay?” Chase tightened his grip, his tears soaking into Ralph’s shirt. “For as long as we can?” His voice wavered as he choked out the last sentence.

Chase forced out a laugh. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll see mom and dad again. That’s something to be happy about, right? Something for me to look forward to, while I’m– while I’m d-dying.”

“Don’t say that. Please, Chase. Don’t say that. You’re strong. You can beat this, I know you can. I just need you to try. Just… try for me, Chase. Say you’ll try. Please.”

“I’m not as strong as you think,” Chase whispered, stepping back out of the embrace and opening the back door. “I’m not sure I have anything left to fight with. Or anything left to fight for.”

“What do you mean, 'nothing left to fight for?' You've got me. You've got Deacon, your aunt and uncle, your friends. You have so many people who care about you; so many people to fight for.” Ralph followed him inside, concern growing with every step.

Chase paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking defeated. “Let’s be honest. I don’t have a future. Even if I wasn’t going to die, I wouldn’t be able to make anything of myself. I’d be stuck in this town forever, working the farms because it’s the only thing I can do. I have no skills, no education, and no money. There’s nothing waiting for me on the other side of this battle. It’s just not worth fighting. Not when it would hurt you, too.”

“Me?”

Chase didn’t look back at him. “Do you know how much I still owe Dale for mom’s chemo?” Chase asked softly. “Thirty-eight thousand. After insurance, after social security, and after financial aid, we still owe thirty-eight thousand dollars. For a treatment that didn’t work.

I can’t pay for myself. You can’t pay for it, and neither can Beth or Dale. It’s just not possible, and I will not allow you to put yourself in debt just so we can drag out my pain for another couple of years. I’m dying either way, so it’s going to happen on my terms.”

Chase sighed and spared a glance back at the crushed look on his grandfather’s face. “I’m tired; I need to lie down. You can wake me up before the appointment. I’ll go with you. I won’t put up a fight. You deserve that much. Just don’t expect anything more. A diagnosis isn’t going to change anything. It won’t ease my pain, and it won’t change my mind.”

With that, Chase left Ralph at the bottom of the stairs. His breath heaved with the exertion of climbing. He really was spread too thin. He needed to stop running from his pain, his exhaustion. But if he stopped moving, he’d sink, and once he sinks, there’s no coming back. Better just to keep moving forward, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how hard it was to breathe. He’d keep moving. For as long as he could.

Chapter Text

After what felt like an eternity of climbing stairs, Chase reached his bedroom. The sight that greeted him once he opened the door was almost foreign, unfamiliar. He’d cleaned it recently. Heaven knows it had needed it, but it just seemed so wrong now. It was nothing like the bedroom of Chase Hollow, wannabe pop star. This was Charles Hollow’s bedroom. It felt cold, lifeless.

Just like me, Chase thought bitterly. At least it’ll be easy for grandpa to deal with once I’m gone.

Chase collapsed onto the bed, struggling to get himself under the covers. His breaths came in quick, ragged gasps. There was a strange pressure in his sternum, like someone was stepping on him, holding him down, drowning him in shallow water. His lungs couldn’t expand, or— no, they couldn’t stop expanding. The pressure was coming from the inside. Outside? Both? Why was it so hard to focus? He wasn’t breathing deeply enough. The air couldn’t fill his chest, couldn’t reach the outermost edges of his swollen lungs. The air would seemingly dissipate before he could use any of it. It left his lungs feeling strained, dry, and hollow.

Heh. Hollow. Chase almost laughed. Maybe if he weren’t dying, he could have done stand-up comedy. Chase Hollow laugh and follow. That had a nice ring to it.

Chase’s breathing evened out. It was still a little too shallow for comfort, but if he tried hard enough, he could keep a steady rhythm.

In.

Out.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

In.

Out.

Yeah, he could do this. He just hadn’t been trying hard enough.

In.

Out.

Who even needed treatment? Not Chase.

In.

Out.

Chase’s vision darkened, and the world, along with all of its stresses, disappeared for a blessed few hours.

When Chase faded back into reality, he registered a large, calloused hand holding one of his own, the other carding through his hair.

Oh. He was awake. It must be time to leave for the cancer clinic. Ralph helped him sit up.

Chase’s chest tightened. Right, he was supposed to be breathing.

In.

Out.

That was better.

In.

Out.

Chase felt like soup. He wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but he could feel in his gut that it was true. All of this, everything he was feeling, soup.

The thought was oddly comforting. He liked soup. Maybe if he didn’t feel like soup later, he could make one of his mom’s recipes for dinner.

Maybe mom felt like soup, too. She never told him how she was feeling, right up until the end. Maybe she thought she was doing him a favor. Sparing him the pain of knowing just how badly her body was deteriorating. Chase had heard plenty of horror stories from the support groups, though. Maybe that was worse. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so scary if she had been there to hold his hand.

Maybe he should have been there to hold hers. Everyone always told him that she needed rest, that she couldn’t have visitors very often. It had killed him, not being there for her.

It had killed her, not being there for him. Chase had called her on the anniversary of his father’s death. She could barely speak, barely comfort him through his tears. It was right after she had been re-admitted to the hospital. They wouldn’t let Chase in her room.

He was right outside her window, sobbing and screaming, pounding on the glass as he watched the phone fall out of her limp hands, her glassy eyes staring right through him.

They still wouldn’t let him inside.

Chase hated hospitals. Hated clinics, doctors’ offices, emergency rooms, urgent care, specialists’ private practices, all of it. The bright fluorescent lights, the noisy air conditioners, the nurses who were too burnt out to care, the doctors who wouldn’t listen, the heavy atmosphere of the waiting rooms. He hated it. All of it.

His entire life had gone up in flames, not once, but twice. Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared.

The world kept spinning, the sun kept shining, the birds kept chirping. Not Chase’s world. It had come to a screeching halt. His sun no longer shone. His birds no longer chirped.

Charlie Hollow died alongside his father. Chase Hollow died alongside his mother.

Who was left in this broken shell of a body? Charles, perhaps. Chase hated that name. Hated how it made him sound like some stuffy aristocrat from Ye Olde England. It always felt too old. Too boring. Too serious.

Well, Charles felt plenty old now. It was ridiculous. He’d only turned nineteen a month ago.

People always said these were supposed to be ‘the best years of your life.’ Charles wanted to hit those people with a cane. He’d have to get a cane first, but that could be arranged.

Charles almost slipped down the stairs, but Ralph caught and steadied him. Why was he on the stairs? When did he get there?

Ralph gently guided him down the rest of the flight. Charles felt like soup again. Was grandpa talking to him? Charles couldn’t hear anything. He existed within a vacuum. It was cold in there. Maybe some soup would warm him up.

Would it be cannibalism to eat soup if he felt like soup?

“–ase. Chase!”

Charles blinked. Someone wanted to talk to Chase. Wasn’t he already dead, though?

“Chase!” Ralph shook him.

Chase blinked again, bringing the world back into focus. “Huh?” They were outside, on the driveway, the passenger side of the truck open before him.

“You need to get in the truck, Chase. I can’t lift you.”

“Oh,” Chase said numbly. He climbed in. “Where are we going?”

Ralph just looked at him for a long moment before feeling his forehead. “You’re awake, right?”

Chase lolled his head to the side. “I’m tired,” he said, as if that were all the answer one could ask for.

It made sense to him. After all, he wouldn’t be tired if he were asleep, right? Because then the sleep would be making him not tired. He drooped a little in his seat.

Ralph’s eyebrows furrowed. Chase’s eyes had unfocused again, staring into nothingness as he sank into the seat. It was starting to freak Ralph out. Chase had been almost completely unresponsive while they were walking out. He had let himself be pulled along like someone in a trance.

Was it just the lack of sleep catching up to him? Or was this some sort of symptom that Ralph hadn’t seen before? Myra had been a little brain foggy at times, but she had also allowed herself to rest when her body told her to.

Who knew how long Chase had been hiding his fatigue.

Ralph leaned over to buckle Chase’s seatbelt for him. “Maybe you should try to nap on the way there.”

“I’m tired.” Chase’s voice was eerily monotone.

“I know, son. Just sleep for now.” Ralph carefully shut the passenger door, trying not to disturb the zombie that had replaced his grandson.

It didn’t take long for the gentle rumble of the truck and the white noise of the highway to lull Chase back to sleep. Maybe he had never fully woken up.

Ralph let out a sigh. Hopefully, once Chase woke again, he’d be coherent enough to actually get the x-rays done.

Would it make a difference? Ralph had hoped that maybe a real diagnosis would spur Chase into action, sort of scare him into getting treatment.

Though now Ralph could see that Chase was pretty set on letting himself die. Once that stubborn boy got an idea in his head, it was almost impossible for anyone to get it out.

Maybe he’d die anyway. Myra had fought so hard and for so long only for it not to make a difference.

She’d left them, and ever since then, the colors of the world had seemed a little less vibrant. Or maybe his life was just a little more dull.

Ralph shook that train of thought out of his head with a frustrated huff. He couldn’t let Chase get to him. If Chase couldn’t be optimistic like he had been when he was younger, then Ralph would be optimistic for him. They would get through this. He was sure of it. Chase was all he had left of George and Myra, and he’d be damned if he let their boy die before his time was up.

Chapter Text

Ralph pulled his rickety old truck into the cancer clinic’s parking lot and turned the engine off. The noise woke Chase up, who murmured something Ralph couldn’t hear and rubbed his eyes.

Ralph prayed that he wouldn’t be so out of it this time. “Chase, you alright?” He asked.

Chase unbuckled himself and stepped out of the cab. “Oh, just peachy keen. I love this place. So many fun memories.”

Well, he was alert enough to be snarky. That was something, Ralph supposed.

The two of them entered the clinic and walked up to the receptionist in silence. The waiting room was just as it had been the last time Ralph had seen it. That tile over by the corner was still cracked, and the vaguely padded chairs still had that old pattern that hadn’t been cool since the nineties.

Chase had his hands buried in the pockets of his old letterman jacket, the one his mom made for him. He was staring resolutely at the ground, ignoring the receptionist.

Would she recognize them, do you think? They had certainly been here quite often a couple of years ago.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked, not even looking up from her monitor, where she was typing something, her long nails clacking against the keyboard almost comically.

Chase was still looking at the floor, so Ralph cleared his throat. “Uhm, yes, for Charles Hollow.”

“Great, can I get your ID and insurance?” She seemed to be working on autopilot, the words coming out of her mouth in an almost lazy manner.

Chase still didn’t move, so Ralph nudged him with his elbow. That got the boy to respond. He lethargically pulled out his wallet and handed over the requested items.

The two of them stood in silence as she made a couple of clicks and began typing again. After a moment, she handed Chase’s things back and directed them to take a seat.

Chase got settled, then went back to staring at the floor.

Ralph started bouncing his knee. It was a bad habit, and he knew it, but the stress of the last two days was starting to catch up with him, and he had a lot of restless energy to let out.

Chase was acting weird. Was he feeling worse, or had he been feeling this way for a long time and just didn’t show it? Neither option put him at ease.

He tried a couple of times to strike up a conversation with Chase to help pass the time, but Chase never did more than give him a noncommittal shrug, or maybe even a nod. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t look away from the floor.

Chase listened as his grandpa tried talking to him about baking, crafts, pop music, movies they had watched together, what to name the new chickens, and any other topic that popped into his head.

It was nice. Chase appreciated the casual feel of the conversation, but Ralph started to get disheartened when he didn’t respond. They lapsed back into silence.

How would he explain that he was too busy breathing to talk much at the moment? It took a lot more effort than Chase wanted to admit to keep enough air flowing. It was like back in elementary school when Ross had said that he’d ‘disabled automatic breathing’ when they were pretending to be robots. Chase had almost hyperventilated. Ross had to write on the board, ‘I will not disable automatic breathing on any more robots.’

Now that Chase thought about it, that teacher had had a pretty good sense of humor. He’d have to bring it up with Ross again soon. Chase couldn’t believe that he’d ever let him live it down. God, when was the last time he’d gone out with his friends? They were back in town for the summer, weren’t they? Chase should at least say hi to them one last time. Maybe they could meet at the diner sometime this weekend.

The flickering light above the waiting room was starting to bother him. Chase closed his eyes and just focused on the sensation of air moving in and out of his lungs. It was a little easier now. Sleeping had definitely helped. Still, though, he counted off the beats.

In… two… three… four.

Out… two… three… four.

In… two…

A voice interrupted him. “Charles Hollow?”

Both Chase and Ralph looked up to see a woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, beckoning them to follow.

She led them down a desolate corridor, the sound of her heels echoing off the bare walls. Finally, she stepped off to the side and into an examination room, where she gestured for Chase to sit on the padded patient bench… table thing. Chase didn’t actually know what they were called. All he knew was that the paper always ripped, and it was super annoying to hear the crinkling throughout the whole checkup.

She asked about his symptoms, how long he’d been noticing them, where in his chest he felt pain, and if there was anything else odd that he’d been feeling.

He answered to the best of his ability, but each time they forced him to talk, it threw off his rhythm. He was starting to breathe a little heavier.

The doctor seemed pleased about that, for whatever sick reason, and pulled out her stethoscope.

“I’m going to listen to your breathing, okay?”

Chase nodded dully. He shrugged his jacket and shirt off, holding them in his lap.

Doctor lady— he didn’t know her name— moved around to his side and pressed the stethoscope to his back, while keeping a hand firm on the front of his chest.

“Deep breath in, and then hold it, okay?”

Chase nodded again.

In… two… three… four.

He held his breath as she repositioned the stethoscope. “Okay, breathe out.”

Chase exhaled, his body slumping forward a bit as he did so.

Out… two… three… four.

They repeated the process a few more times, each time checking a different area. Then she moved around him again, and they were back at the start, this time with her listening from the front of his chest.

Chase shivered slightly. The room was cold, and the metal of the stethoscope certainly wasn’t helping.

Soon, though, Doctor lady had found what she was looking for. She jotted some notes down on her computer, then ushered them to follow her out of the room.

Chase moved to put his shirt back on, but then Doctor lady said to leave it off for the x-ray.

Sure, why not? Not like it’s humiliating to walk around a clinic shirtless or anything. At least nobody saw him.

Ralph had to wait outside, so Chase left his shirt and jacket with him.

The x-ray room was dark and just as cold as the examination room. A large piece of machinery stood waiting for him at the other end of the room. It seemed to loom over him. Whoever built those x-ray machines needed to take a class in non-hostile architecture. That thing looked scary.

Or, you know. Maybe a kid would think so. Not Chase. He was an adult.

Doctor lady had disappeared for a bit, but returned with a lead apron-looking thing. She helped him tie it around his waist, then positioned him in front of the flat panel against the wall.

She fiddled with his arms until they were where she wanted them. It was kind of uncomfortable, but she said not to move, or his lungs wouldn’t be in the right position for the x-rays.

She then wheeled over the bulky machine and brought it right up to his back. He could practically feel it on him, even though they weren't touching.

Doctor lady disappeared again. After a couple of minutes of standing in the dark, just staring at the wall, she returned to reposition him.

They took x-rays of his front, back, and each side.

Once that was done, she let him go back to the examination room, and— more importantly— he was allowed to put his clothes back on. He was freezing. Grandpa had looked like an angel descending from heaven to give his jacket back.

Instead of getting back on the patient bench/table thing, Chase sat next to Ralph on one of those hard plastic chairs that they keep in the room for parents to sit on. He rubbed Chase’s back comfortingly as they waited.

It took about twenty minutes, but Doctor lady finally returned with the x-rays printed out for them to see.

She pointed out a little clump of… something in his right lung, close to some tree root-looking things. She explained that it was most likely a tumor and that it was interfering with his lobar bronchus, which Chase definitely understood.

She went on to say that if it was what she thought it was, then it would be partially blocking air from entering that section of his lung, and that he was basically trying to breathe with a lung and a half.

Chase definitely understood that part.

“The x-rays don’t tell us a lot, though, only that there’s something there. What we’d have you do next is get a CT scan and a biopsy done on it to be sure that it really is a tumor.”

“And what if it is?” Ralph asked. “What sort of treatment do you think would be best?”

Doctor lady thought for a moment. “Well, it’s not in a great place. Obviously, no place is great for a tumor, but we’d definitely recommend removing it surgically before you try radiation or chemotherapy or anything like that.”

She wheeled her chair back toward her desk to dig out some pamphlets and diagrams to show them.

“The safest option would probably be wedge resection surgery,” she continued, pointing at an illustration of lungs being cut open with scissors. “ They’d get in there, take out that section of lung along with the tumor, then close it back up. It’s a lot less invasive than removing the whole lobe, and your recovery time would be better, too. That’s handy in this scenario, because the sooner you start chemotherapy after the surgery, the easier it is to kill any remaining cancer cells in the lung.”

Chase’s head was starting to swim.

“Of course,” Doctor lady said, “we don’t know for sure that it’s cancerous. I think it’s highly likely, based on what you’ve told me and how your lungs sounded, but we need that biopsy to be one hundred percent sure before we can send you to the hospital for the resection.”

Chase stopped paying attention. He could faintly hear grandpa asking more questions, and Doctor lady responding, but Chase couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Surgery and chemo?

Chase felt sick to his stomach. That was so much worse than what he had been anticipating. Chemo alone was bad enough, but to have to remove a whole section of his lung? He felt nauseous.

“How much would that cost?” he asked quietly.

Doctor lady and Ralph stopped talking. “Come again?” She asked.

“How much would it cost?” Chase said again. “The surgery, the hospital stay, the chemo, all of it. How much would it cost us?”

Doctor lady rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, that depends on a lot of factors. I don’t know how much of it your insurance would cover, but for the wedge resection surgery, costs usually start at around twelve thousand, but can get up to, like, fifty thousand, depending on the method, the time, how complicated the surgery is… things like that. For the chemo afterwards, let’s say you come in for six months, that would be…”

Chase had stopped listening. Fifty thousand? Just for the surgery? Twelve thousand at the cheapest?

Chase stood, surprising the other two. “I’m done here. Thanks.” He walked out, not even looking behind him to see if Ralph was following.

Ralph watched in stunned silence as Chase stormed out of the examination room. He moved to follow, but Doctor Advani put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“It’s… not unusual. For patients to walk out like that,” She clarified. “I know that I’m talking about life-changing amounts of money here, but you have insurance, and we can get you connected with plenty of resources to help you pay the remainder. I don’t want the cost to be what’s driving you away. If this is lung cancer, it will kill him. You need to act fast. Imani is at the front desk right now; she can help you schedule a biopsy for him.”

Ralph nodded solemnly.

“I know how hard this is. Give him some time to cool down, but you can’t wait forever.”

They stood, and Doctor Advani walked him out to the front to explain what he needed from the receptionist, Imani, apparently. Ralph had forgotten to ask for her name earlier.

Imani printed out the lab order and date and time for the appointment. She’d offered to email everything, but Ralph refused. He was a bit old-fashioned that way. Having a physical copy put him at ease.

“Just take this to the hospital on the day of the appointment, and they’ll get you all sorted out, okay?”

Ralph thanked the two ladies for their help and left the building to go find where Chase had run off to.

Chase exited the building, frustration bubbling up his chest. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something. Maybe even a hug, but he was just. So. Angry right now. He couldn’t even tell what he was angry at.

Was he angry at the doctor for just doing her job? The hospitals for being so expensive? Grandpa for making him come here? Himself for even having this problem at all?

All of it, none of it, some secret third thing. He was just angry.

Chase paced for a moment, switching between rubbing his face and pulling at his hair.

He’d tried to go sit in the truck, but it was locked. At least the clinic had a nice, grassy area out front. That was something. Although with how much he was wearing down the plants under his feet, it wouldn’t stay very nice for much longer.

Chase walked up to the side of the building and sank down against it, screaming into his hands.

He pulled out his phone. What Chase needed right now was some good old electronic distractions.

As he unlocked the phone, wondering idly if he even had any games left on it, he noticed that he had received a text about a half hour ago. It must have been while the phone was in his jacket pocket during the x-rays.

The contact name at the top of the screen was Sleeping Beauty 💜. Briar was texting him! Or, had been. Chase looked back at where the messages began.

12:27 Sleeping Beauty 💜: Hello, Chase. I’ll be coming over later today for a lesson with your grandfather. While I’m there, could you show me those CDs you mentioned a couple of days ago? One of those songs you played is stuck in my head, and I can’t remember the name.

Chase smiled. He knew it was only a matter of time before he fixed Briar’s bad taste in music. ‘Only classical music’ my ass.

The next message was quite a bit later, and if the sudden change in spelling and grammar was any indication, Chase would have to assume that Prunella had snatched his phone.

12:41 Sleeping Beauty 💜: chase why dont u text me back do u hate me

12:41 Sleeping Beauty 💜: im gonna cry boo hoo and be reall sad

12:42 Sleeping Beauty 💜: if u dont text me im gonna never talk to u agen

12:44 Sleeping Beauty 💜: :(

12:44 Sleeping Beauty 💜: :( :( :( :( :(

12:45 Sleeping Beauty 💜: its a frownie face

12:46 Sleeping Beauty 💜: :-( this one has a nose

Chase chuckled at the thought of Briar texting him like an insecure nine-year-old.

12:58 Sleeping Beauty 💜: That wasn’t me. How do I delete messages?

Chase was full-on laughing now. Briar texted like his grandpa: correct capitalization and punctuation and everything. He couldn’t help but imagine Briar acting like he was dictating a telegram. He could even hear him saying ‘stop’ after every sentence. Briar was just too cute.

Chase started typing a reply, but hesitated. Would it really be fair to get close to Briar only to die on him later?

Maybe keeping him at arm's length would be easier for both of them in the long run. Less hurt feelings that way.

Chase tucked his phone away just as Ralph left the building, calling his name.

As they drove home, Chase resolved not to get too involved with Briar. No matter how much the thought of pulling away stung, this would be the best option for both of them. Chase wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him behind, and Briar wouldn’t have to mourn.

Yeah, he thought. This is for the best.

Chapter Text

Briar sat at the bed and breakfast's front desk, staring blankly at his phone. His feet were pulled onto the chair with him, and he rested his chin on his knees. There were no new messages. He swiped down from the top of the screen where the contact name 'Prince Charming' was displayed, and the page refreshed. Still nothing. He and Chase had messaged each other sparsely over the past week— well, Chase had messaged him. It had mostly been along the lines of 'how are you feeling today,' followed by Briar's response: 'awful, thanks for asking.' He'd actually been feeling rather good, but Chase didn't need to know that. Was it wrong of him to get a little giddy at Chase's concern for his well-being? Probably. Briar decided not to think about it.

When they'd last had a date, hung out, were in the same room together, Chase had shown him his CD collection. It was mostly pop drivel, but one of the songs had gotten stuck in his head. It was by that one rock band he had a lot of. What were they called? The murderers? Something like that, anyway.

Briar hummed what he remembered of the tune to himself as he tapped his finger against the side of his phone's purple casing. He'd never texted Chase first before, and he wasn't sure how exactly he should begin. Maybe just say hi and wait for him to respond? Or should he get straight to the point?

Briar began typing, his painted black nails clacking against the glass screen before he paused halfway through the message. Would Chase even want to hear from him? Maybe he was only going along with everything because he felt obligated to. He hadn't exactly had a say in the matter of their fake relationship. Of course, Briar had hoped it would have been clear that Chase could choose to come clean.

Briar sincerely hoped that he wouldn't. The time they'd spent together over the last two weeks was genuinely the most fun he'd had in, well, ages. Chase was so receptive to teasing and got hilariously red in the face whenever Briar called him short. It was honestly adorable. Briar's heart sank a little as a thought struck him. Maybe Chase had other reasons to keep the rumors alive. Heaven knows his last boyfriend had. Briar scowled at the memory of his last relationship. Chase is nothing like him, Briar reminded himself, shaking his head.

Pushing down the anger that had welled up at the memories of… that guy, Briar finished typing his message and hurriedly hit send before he could change his mind. Briar flipped the phone over and let it sit face down on the counter in front of him. He stared at it intently, waiting for his notification sound to come through the speakers.

As he waited, the jingle of the front door bells broke him out of his one-sided staring contest. A plump, matronly woman walked up to him with a young boy at her side. He had wild golden hair (not unlike Chase's) and was grinning ear to ear.

Briar shoved his phone to the side and did his best impression of his mother. "Hi! Welcome to the Hidden Toadstool Grove Bed and Breakfast, home to humans and fairies alike. How can I help you?"

The woman smiled down at him and requested a room with two beds.

Briar pulled out the guest book to see how many they had available. "How many nights?" He asked, flipping through the pages to find a suitable room.

"Oh, as long as we need, dear."

Briar looked up at her with wide eyes. "Um." What on earth is that supposed to mean!? Briar's brain screamed at him. Was it some sort of code?? Was he supposed to understand what she wanted? "We, uh… There are discounted rates for weekly stays?"

The woman smiled again. "That'll do for now, dear."

"So… a week?" She nodded. Odd woman, Briar thought. She doesn't have much luggage with her for a week's stay. They only had a suitcase and a backpack between the two of them. "Right, uh, would you rather be on the first or second floor? The second floor is a bit more expensive because you'll have a balcony."

"The fewer stairs for me, the better!" The woman chirped.

"Alright then." Briar turned the guest book around and had her sign her name in the log for the room he'd selected. Once she was done, he took the book back and started loading the charges into the desktop computer. "Breakfast is complimentary with your stay, and if you like, lunch and dinner are also available for purchase. If that's something you're considering, the meals are cheaper if you pay for the week in advance." Briar paused to let her consider the offer.

"Hmm, yes, we might as well, eh Goldie? You do eat a lot, don't you, you little beast!" She pinched the boy's cheek, and he squealed out a laugh.

"Grandmother, you are correct! I desire gummy bears most greatly!"

Huh. Cute kid. I wonder if that's what Chase was like when he was younger? Briar pushed the embarrassing thought to the back of his mind. He could think about Chase later, after he gets off work. Or never. Because thinking of Chase is not a hobby of his. Nope. No way.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, so with the meals added, your total for the week is seven hundred dollars. How would you like to pay?"

The woman— Mildred, Briar gathered from the guestbook— rummaged through her satchel. "I'll write you out a check, dear. Who do I make it out to?"

Briar blinked. "Oh. Um." Did they even accept checks? Well, regardless of whether they did or didn't, his mom would probably allow it. She'd most likely say something like 'Oh, it's simply delightful, isn't it, Briar!' "You can make it out to Agatha Gruenenfelder."

Mildred's pen faltered, and Briar felt a little sheepish. "Here, I'll spell it out for you," he offered.

Once the transaction finished, Briar stood and grabbed their room keys from the hooks on the wall behind him. He handed them over to Mildred, then slotted his arms into the cuffs of his crutches. "I'll show you to your room. Follow me."

Briar rounded the counter, and the kid gasped when he saw him. Briar fought the urge to roll his eyes and prepared his 'these are called forearm crutches' speech. Instead of gawking at the sight of his mobility aids, however, the kid seemed more interested in Briar's outfit.

"Gadzooks! Are you a vampire?"

Briar looked down at what he was wearing. Fishnet sleeves poked out of his ripped black T-shirt and extended down to his wrists. Studded belts adorned his waist and draped elegantly down his long black skirt, which he was suddenly grateful to be wearing, for he had forgotten that he wasn't wearing any shoes, and though his compression socks were very helpful, the sunflower pattern on them didn't exactly match his aesthetic.

He looked back up at the kid and simply said, "Yes."

The kid looked starstruck, his intense blue eyes blown wide with how wide he was smiling. "Marvelous! You have the smallest teeth of any vampire in the world!"

Briar frowned. "Have you seen very many vampires?"

"Not a one!" The kid proudly announced. "Just you."

"So how do you know my teeth are the smallest?"

"Well," the kid floundered a bit. "Your teeth are very small."

"Goldie!" Mildred chided. "It's not nice to call people's teeth small."

Briar's brows furrowed as he turned to lead them to their room. My teeth aren't that small. Are they? Stupid kid.

Mildred and the kid, Goldie, followed as Briar led them past the dining room. "All the meals are served in this room. It'll be open from six in the morning until ten pm."

The group moved on until they stood outside the door to the room. "This is where you'll be staying. Quiet hours are from ten to six, so if you can't get a bite to eat, don't make a loud fuss about it. Do you have any questions for me?"

Goldie tugged on Mildred's dress.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Go on and ask him, dear."

Goldie suddenly looked bashful. "Will I really get to see a fairy?"

Briar beckoned him over and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "They say that if you're nice enough and bring them a piece of candy, the fairies will kiss your forehead while you sleep."

"Whoa, really!!?" Goldie started jumping up and down. "Grandmother, do you think the fairies like gummy bears?"

Mildred laughed. "I guess we'll find out, now won't we?" Mildred unlocked the door and shuffled the golden ball of excitement inside. Before going in herself, Mildred patted Briar on the cheek fondly and thanked him for his time.

Briar appreciated the sentiment but found it extremely difficult not to cringe at the unexpected physical contact. He suppressed it long enough, though, so Mildred didn't see him shudder and rub his cheek with his sleeve as he walked back to the front desk.

Once he settled back into the desk chair, his crutches against the wall behind him, Briar checked his phone.

No new messages.

His heart sank. I suppose Chase really doesn't want anything to do with me. I should have known.

Briar pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, gazing forlornly at his phone on the desk. Still no new messages.

Prunella strode into the room and deposited a glass of chocolate milk on the desk while drinking one herself. "What's wrong?" She asked.

Briar took the milk gratefully. "Nothing," he sighed.

"Is it Chase?"

Sometimes Prunella could be inconveniently perceptive. "Yes."

"Are you going to Mr. Hollow's house today?"

"Yes."

"So you'll probably see Chase there?"

"Yes, probably."

"Do you like him?"

"Ye–No! No, I do not."

Prunella smirked at him over her glass of milk.

Briar sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Look, Pru, it's complicated. Even if I did like Chase— which I don't— he doesn't like me back. We're just pretending until mum and dad's anniversary. That's all."

Prunella raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, then snatched his phone off the counter and bolted.

"Wha–?" Briar's brain slowly kicked into gear as he realized what had just happened. "PRUNELLA, GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE GOBLIN!" Briar jumped to his feet and started chasing after her. "GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!"

Prunella led him in a wide circle around the bed and breakfast, laughing the whole way. They passed by the kitchen where their dad was cooking, and he startled at the sight of Briar running.

"YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THAT LATER!" He called after him.

"I KNOW," Briar grunted from the exertion. He was already starting to feel the consequences of the impromptu chase.

Briar managed one more loop of the bed and breakfast before collapsing on their couch, panting in exhaustion. Prunella saw that he was no longer following and backtracked to go sit on his back as he lay facedown on the cushions.

"Give it back," he demanded, his voice muffled by the throw pillow he was pressed against.

"I will. Eventually." She grinned, already typing something into his chat with Chase.

Briar's body was screaming at him for running, and his mind was screaming at him to do something about Prunella, but all he had the strength to do was turn his head and halfheartedly swipe at Prunella, a task made all the more difficult when she sits on his back like this.

"What are you even doing with it?" He asked tiredly.

"Playing games," she lied.

"Yeah, right. I've only got sudoku on there."

"I like sudoku," she retorted, sending another text off to Chase.

"No you don't. You said fighting for your life in the Arctic would be more exciting than solving a number puzzle. What are you actually doing?"

"Don't worry about it," she said, scooping the TV remote off of the coffee table and pressing the power button.

"If you think a little TV is going to save your hide, you're sorely–" Briar cut off as a nature documentary began playing, and a Hercules beetle scuttled across the screen. "…mistaken," he finished lamely, his attention already completely focused on the beetle's tragic fight for love in the rain. Two male Hercules beetles clashed horns in order to win favor from a nearby female.

With Briar successfully distracted, Prunella was free to send as many texts as she desired. She smiled down at the phone in her hands. It might take a little work, but getting the two of them together couldn't be that hard. After all, her brother was clearly already head over heels.

Chapter Text

As much as Chase would have liked to ignore the guilt settling into his gut at the decision to push Briar away, his grandfather didn't let him. The pesky yet lovable old man had looked over and seen Chase staring at his phone glumly, which spurred him to ask that Chase please let Briar know that he'd need some extra time to prepare their lesson for today, but that he was more than welcome to head over early anyway and just hang out.

Rather than go through the awkwardness of explaining that he shouldn't really be talking to Briar anymore, Chase heaved a sigh and typed out the message.

And another.

And another.

So much for keeping his distance.

The documentary about Hercules beetle mating habits served to distract Briar for about twenty minutes before he remembered that his sister was still in possession of his cell phone.

Briar shot up—or would have if Prunella hadn't happened to be sitting on his back—what ended up happening was Briar propped himself up on his arms as quickly as his joints allowed, and Prunella rolled off of him with a thud.

"Watch it, doofus! I could have hit my head on the coffee table," Prunella complained.

Briar rolled his eyes. "Please, you weren't even close to the table. Now give me my phone. You've had your fun with it."

Prunella sighed dramatically and handed it back. "Fine. I'm done with it anyway. He didn't even respond to my smiley faces," she said with a slight pout. Prunella wasn't real big on getting ignored, so Briar must be feeling pretty sad that Chase was ignoring him. She had hoped that maybe she could coax a response out of their neighbor. Prunella liked to think she knew him pretty well, but Chase didn't even send one smiley face back at her.

Stupid adults and their stupid seriousness.

Briar looked at the messages she had sent off with a look of pure mortification on his face.

"Yeah, Chase is being a buttface. I don't know why he didn't text back, either," she shrugged.

Briar ran a hand down his face and sighed. Prunella watched as he fiddled with his phone for a moment, then looked frustrated and typed something before putting it away in his pocket.

"Well, the damage is done. Why don't you go play with the new kid and get out of my hair for a while?"

Prunella stuck her tongue out before Briar's words fully registered.

"Wait, new kid?"

Briar began herding her out of the living room. "Yeah, a little blonde kid is staying here for the week. Why don't you knock and ask if you can show him the fairy garden?"

Briar gave her one last shove before heading back to the front of the bed and breakfast.

Prunella stared up at the door in front of her. A new kid, huh? She steeled her nerves and reached up to knock on the door. When it opened, a short, gray-haired woman greeted her kindly, but no kid was in sight.

Prunella decided to cut to the chase. "Is there a kid here I can play with? My brother told me there was."

The woman looked surprised for a fraction of a second, then a large smile erupted on her face. "Oh, yes! That's just what Goldie needs. Come out, dear."

From behind the old woman's skirt, a young boy, about Prunella's own age appeared, his glittering blue eyes wide with curiosity. He clutched the hem of the woman's skirt, but she gave him a gentle nudge, and soon the two were face to face.

"Do you like fairies?" Prunella asked.

The little boy's eyes got wider, if that was even possible, and he nodded vigorously, all apprehension seemingly dissipated in an instant. "Oh, yes, indeed! The little creatures are said to be magnificent! Have you ever seen one?"

Prunella was momentarily taken aback by the kid's odd speech, but shrugged it off. After all, people always said that she and her brother spoke oddly, too. It wasn't a big deal, really. Or so her parents said.

"Yeah. You have to look real close 'cause they're small, but I can show you where they are."

The little boy practically started vibrating in excitement and turned back to the old woman, jumping and grabbing at her hands. "Oh, grandmother, can I? Can I, can I, can I?"

The woman laughed at the exuberant little boy in front of her. "Of course, dear. Go have fun, but remember to introduce yourself, now. You don't even know this little girl's name!"

The little boy looked shocked, and turned back to Prunella apologetically. "My name is Goldie, what's yours?"

Prunella smiled. She liked this kid already. "I'm Prunella. Nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand for a shake.

Goldie shook her hand with as much fervor as he did seemingly everything. Once Prunella no longer felt as if her arm would vibrate off, she pulled him out a side door and dragged him along the path to the fairy garden behind the bed and breakfast.

As they walked, Prunella asked questions. Her parents always said the key to making friends was to learn about the other kids and see if you have the same interests. Goldie already liked fairies, so that was good. They chatted amicably for a while, each taking turns poking their heads into the tiny wooden houses to try and catch a glimpse of a fairy, but a different kind of question nagged at the back of Prunella's mind.

"Are your parents staying in a different room? I didn't see them with you and your grandma."

"Mom and Dad didn't come with us!" Goldie said cheerfully. "Grandma said they were being naughty 'cause they were shouting a lot last night, so they don't get to come on vacation with us. I didn't even know we were going on a vacation! Grandma said it was a surprise. I like surprises, but I had to get up really early to leave, so I couldn't hug them goodbye." The cheerful expression on his face faded for a fraction of a second, but he shook his head and smiled at Prunella again. "That's okay, though! Grandma says everything is going to be okay now."

Prunella didn't know what to make of that.

Briar settled back into the desk chair in the bed and breakfasts lobby with a sigh. Chase probably thought he was a loser now. Those texts that Prunella sent him were certainly… something. Briar rubbed his forehead. Why couldn't she just learn to stay out of his business?

Briar dropped his head onto the desk in defeat. He'd just have to accept that Chase hates him and doesn't want to speak to him.

Briar's phone dinged.

With a speed that shouldn't have been realistically possible, Briar snatched the phone out of his pocket and opened up his chat with Chase.

Prince Charming: hey so my grandpa asked me to tell you that he'll be a little late in putting together your baking lesson, but you can come over early anyway

Prince Charming: i think he wants the company

Prince Charming: or maybe he just wants to brag to diane that he has a protégé and she doesnt

Prince Charming: idek

Prince Charming: but you don't have to come over if you dont want to

Briar's steadily forming grin faltered at the last message. Did that mean that Chase doesn't want him to come over? He could just be too nice to say it outright… The message was probably some weird way to say 'I'm going to make you think you have a choice, but I don't want you over here, and if you couldn't tell that then you're just some idiot who can't take a hint.'

Briar set the phone down, and started picking at his fingernails anxiously. Should he respond? Ask for clarification? No, people didn't like it when he asked…

Should he just go anyway?

After all, the whole reason for his visit was to learn from Mr. Hollow. Chase shouldn't have even factored into it at all, no matter how much Briar had wanted to see him.

They could just avoid each other, right? Briar could bake in the kitchen, and Chase could… do something… somewhere else…

Oh, but he had wanted to hear those CDs again… Chase had looked so dreamy when he sang along with them the last time they were together.

Briar frowned. Maybe he should just go, and then try to see how Chase felt about him in person. It should be easier to understand him in person than over text, right?

This whole thing could be one big misunderstanding.

Yeah, that had to be it. Chase hadn't given him a reason to think he didn't enjoy spending time together.

He'd show up, bake something with Mr. Hollow, then listen to a few albums with Chase before coming home.

Briar smiled. It would be a pretty good day after all.

Chapter Text

As soon as the clock struck three pm, Briar was out of the door and making his way to to the Hollow farmhouse. Work had seemed to drag on forever, and the longer he waited, the more he wished he could see Chase.

And Mr. Hollow, of course.

But mostly Chase. Briar had resolved to stop beating around the bush and just ask how Chase felt about him. If all went well, maybe they could actually start dating! And as an added bonus, that would also mean he wouldn't have to lie to his parents anymore.

Really, it would be a win-win scenario. He just needed to know that it would be a win for Chase as well.

Briar knocked on the front door of the Hollow farmhouse expectantly, then fiddled with his necklace while he waited. The metal chain twisted and clinked in his hands, cool to the touch and comforting to listen to.

Eventually, Chase answered the door, staring blankly out at the seemingly empty porch.

Briar reached a hand up from his wheelchair and snapped in front of Chase's face. "Down here, pipsqueak. What, you not used to looking down at people? Oh wait, I bet you aren't."

Chase scowled at him. "Hardy har har har. How does it feel to have to look up at everyone now?"

"You tell me."

"Shut the fuck up," Chase grumbled.

Briar smiled up at the other boy, put at ease by the way they were able to banter like normal, but his grin faltered when he noticed how tired Chase looked.

"Hey, are you doing alright? I can stop if you're not up for our jabs today."

Chase sighed. "Yeah, not really, buddy. Come inside. If I leave you out there any longer the town social society will have my head for being a bad host."

Briar raised an eyebrow. "Is the town social society ususally concerned with your personal life?"

"You'd be surprised." Chase stood to the side, holding the door open for Briar to lift his chair through, and they continued through the foyer into the living room.

Ralph peeked his head out of the kitchen when he heard the boys talking. "Chase, can you entertain Briar for a bit? I'm still not ready for his lesson."

Chase's expression faltered slightly, a flash of… well… some unidentifiable emotion making itself known briefly before being forced away by Chase returning his features to that of a tight smile.

Briar took it all in with a nervous gulp. He'd never been good at reading people, but he'd thought that Chase was just tired. Is the thought of spending time with me that unappealing?

Chase directed him to wait on the couch, then disappeared upstairs, saying he was going to grab something.

Would he even come back?

Briar sat stiffly on Mr. Hollow's old, ripped up couch that looked straight out of a nineties sitcom, trying his absolute best not to bounce his leg. It was a nervous habit of his, made all the more worse because it aggravated his knees. He turned to playing with his necklace again. His mom had gotten it for his last birthday in the hopes that he'd stop picking the skin around his nails. It'd worked for the most part, but the thought of it made Briar laugh. She had the same issue with picking her nails but only thought about finding a solution once she noticed that he'd picked up the habit from her.

His parent's anniversary was only two weeks away now, and he still didn't know what he wanted to make for them. His favorite recipe so far was a simple chocolate cake, but they deserved something better than that, didn't they?

Maybe he could dig out their wedding albums and see what sort of cake they had had. Briar mentally berated himself for not engaging with the festivities enough, but he had been fifteen at the time, and there were corners that needed a good dose of angsty teenage brooding done in them.

Chase flopped down on the couch next to him, startling Briar. He hadn't noticed Chase return. Chase closed his eyes, breathing heavily for a moment before dropping a portable CD player in Briar's lap, along with a zipped up square CD case.

"There. You said you wanted to listen to my CDs again, right? Go nuts." Chase rummaged in his pocket for a moment before producing a pair of old earbuds and handing them to Briar.

Briar took the earbuds hesitantly. "Don't you— uhm— Do you want to listen with me?"

Chase shrugged. "Which one did you want to listen to?"

A light pink dusted Briar's cheeks. "I, uh. I can't remember the name of it. It was about an astronaut? I think?"

Chase's face scrunched and he tilted his head to the side. "Astronaut?" He mumbled. "Astronaut, astronaut… oh! Are you talking about Spaceman? By The Killers?"

"Yes! That's the one." Briar perked up and handed the CD case back so Chase could pick out the correct album.

"Yeah, I like that one, too. There's actually quite a few theories on what the lyrics are supposed to mean, but I've never thought about it as a literal astronaut before. Most people say it's a metaphor for fame, or health, or even just that its a silly song about getting abducted," Chase shrugged.

"Oh." Briar felt a little stupid. "Well, what do you think it means?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You said most people think it's a metaphor. Which one do you think it is?"

Chase was quiet for a moment, just staring down at the disc in his hands. "My mom got me these CDs after my dad…" Chase cleared his throat. "When I was in a bad place. When I first listened to it, I thought it was about learning to live again after a failed attempt."

Chase fell silent, still staring down at the disc in his hand.

"A failed attempt to what?"

Chase just looked at him for a moment before laughing quietly. "Don't worry about it. Let's just listen." Chase set the disc in the player and plugged in the earbuds, handing one of them to Briar as he put the other in his ear.

Briar accepted the earbud and put it in, slightly miffed that Chase wouldn't tell him what he meant, but he had seemed kind of… distant. He probably shouldn't ask.

The two of them had to sit rather close so as not to pull out the other's earbuds, and Briar tried not to feel too excited at the proximity.

Chase just closed his eyes and listened, letting the guitar and the chorus of voices wash over him.

Briar did the same. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could understand what Chase saw in the song that he didn't.

The song progressed, but Briar's concentration on the lyrics was interrupted by a head falling on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the boy to his side, seeing Chase asleep against him. So he really was just tired.

Briar smiled down at him, then realized that he was now completely stuck on the couch. There was no way he would be able to get up without disturbing Chase.

…Well, that's not so bad, really. I'll just let him sleep until Mr. Hollows comes and gets me for my lesson.

Briar shifted on the couch, allowing Chase to slump further against him as he rested his back against the armrest. The change in position meant that Chase's head fell from his sholder to his chest, and Briar winced, hoping it hadn't woken him up.

Luckily for him, it hadn't. Chase didn't even stir. Briar let his head fall back against the couch and closed his eyes, listening to the music to pass the time

Briar came back to himself slowly. He couldn't hear the music anymore. Was the album finished? Briar belatedly realized that the earbud wasn't even in his ear anymore. He looked around. Chase was still lying on top of him, but they had been moved further down the couch, and a pillow had been placed under his head instead of the armrest. A blanket had been draped over the two of them, and Briar turned his head just in time to see Mr. Hollow taking a picture of them on his cell phone.

Were it not for the heavy person pressing him down into the couch, Briar would have jumped up and demanded the photo be deleted, but alas, he could not move without upsetting the still sleeping Chase. And really, the photo couldn't be that bad. Maybe he could ask for a copy of it later…

Briar shoved the thought to the back of his mind, returning his focus to Mr. Hollow. The room around them was a fair bit dimmer than it had been when Briar fell asleep. Just how long had he been laying on the couch with Chase?

"What time is it?" He asked.

Mr. Hollow tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Just about dinner time. When you two lovebirds are done cuddling you're welcome to join me for a pot roast."

Briar startled. "Dinner? What about our lesson?"

"Oh, I didn't want to wake you," Mr. Hollow waved a hand dismissively. "You young'uns need all the rest you can get. And besides, we can just make up the lesson tomorrow."

"But I won't be back from therapy until late afternoon."

Mr. Hollow shrugged. "That's fine by me. You should know you're welcome here anytime, whether it be to bake," he smirked, eyeing them on the couch, "or any other reason."

Briar's face flushed a bright red.

Mr. Hollow laughed to himself as he walked back into the kitchen.

Briar's face was positively burning, but he couldn't deny that he and Chase probably looked rather domestic on the couch together.

Briar studied Chase's face. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, even after getting jostled around. Briar looked a little closer. Chase didn't appear to be breathing, or at least not enough to make his chest rise and fall noticably.

"Chase?"

Nothing.

"Chase?" Briar sat them up as best he could and shook Chase by the shoulders.

Chase coughed a little, then blearily opened his eyes. "Whazzappening?" As Chase regained his brain functions little by little, he noticed that he was very much on top of Briar. He scrambled backwards, breath coming in quick wheezes from the surprise.

Briar reached out, catching and steadying Chase as he almost fell off the couch. "Chase, are you okay? You don't look well."

"I'm fine. How did your baking lesson go?"

Briar's brows furrowed at the change in topic. "We didn't have a lesson today. You fell asleep on me."

Chase looked guilty. "Right. Sorry about that. Won't happen again."

Briar shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'm not upset. I didn't mean to sound like I was."

"Oh. Um, okay then."

Briar bit his lip. "Chase… you weren't breathing very well. While you were asleep," he clarified.

Chase's eyes widened and he jumped off the couch and to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck exageratedly. "HUH, HOW ABOUT THAT ISN'T THAT CRAZY. ANYWAY I'M HUNGRY, HOW ABOUT YOU?"

"I… guess so? Are you feeling well, though? You might be coming down with something."

"I'm not sick," Chase snapped.

Briar's eyes widened at the harsh tone.

Chase facepalmed. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I'm not sick, so there's no reason to worry. I'm cool, you're cool, everything's cool! Cool, right!"

Chase turned on his heel and marched out of the living room before Briar could say anything.

In the dining room, Briar found Chase sitting in the chair furthest away from his grandfather, resolutely avoiding eye contact.

Mr. Hollow looked uncomfortable. When he noticed Briar, he motioned for him to join them at the table. Briar sat awkwardly. Why is everyone acting so weird all of a sudden?

Briar picked at his food in silence. Chase still wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Mr. Hollow looked as though he wanted to say something, but thought better of it each time.

Briar cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping to ease some of the tension. "So… Where's Deacon?"

Chase didn't look up. Mr. Hollow shrugged. "Lord only knows, but I'll bet you good money he's been spending all of his time at Diane's place. That granddaughter of hers has him wrapped around her finger. I've barely seen him all summer! Right, Chase?"

Chase curled further in on himself. "Right. Haven't seen him. He's probably off having fun somewhere. Good for him. He won't notice anything different."

Mr. Hollow choked on his food.

Briar looked between the two of them, helplessly lost in the conversation. "Is something different?"

"It will be soon enough," Chase answered glumly.

Mr. Hollow set his glass down harshly, spilling water onto the table. "No. It won't be."

Briar flinched. Chase glared at his grandfather. Mr. Hollow glared back, both daring each other to make a move.

He didn't understand half of what they were talking about, but the whole afternoon had taken a hard turn into incomprehensible, uncomfortable territory, and Briar did not want to be along for that sort of ride. "I think maybe I should go home now," he said, rising from his seat.

"Sit down and eat your dinner!" Mr. Hollow snapped, his gaze still locked in silent combat with his grandson.

Briar sat back down meekly with a "Yes, sir."

Mr. Hollow narrowed his eyes, and though he didn't look away from Chase, he reached an arm out and tapped a finger expectantly on the edge of Briar's plate.

Unnerved, Briar began to eat.

What the hell is going on here?

Chapter Text

Briar awoke when the weight of a nine year old girl slammed into him at full force, knocking all the air out of his lungs. He sat up wheezing, but the excitable little goblin on top of him didn't seem to care, still bouncing up and down and exclaiming, "Briar! Briar! Briar!"

"What do you want, Pru?" Briar sighed. "I'm all out of crutches to vandalize."

Prunella scowled at him. "That's not what I—" then her eyes widened. "Wait, can I put stickers on your wheelchair?"

Briar rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah, knock yourself out. And while you do that, I'm going back to bed." Briar lay back down resolutely, but was interrupted in his sleeping endeavors by Prunella shaking him by the shoulders.

"It's eleven am, doofus! You're going to sleep through your doctor's appointment!"

Briar's eyes snapped open. "Doctor's appointment?! Since when did I have a— oh wait, you mean my therapy? That's not until, like, three. I've got time." Briar rolled over in bed, leaving Prunella to slip off of him with a pout.

"Briaaarrr," she whined, "nobody's seen you all day, which means you haven't had breakfast. Or lunch. Aren't you going to eat before we leave?"

Briar burrowed further into his blankets. "Probably not."

"But you'll be hungry!"

"I don't get hungry until I'm nauseous, and if I'm nauseous I can't eat. Besides, I ate dinner yesterday. That's something." Briar opened his eyes, brows furrowing. "Wait, did you say 'we?'"

"Yes, 'we'." Prunella climbed back on top of Briar and folded her arms in indignation. "What I came in here to tell you was that Dad is going to take me to the outdoor supply depot in the city while you're at your therapy. I want to see the new survival kits they have."

"Oh. That's… cool, I guess. That's what you woke me up to tell me?"

"That, and also that you need to come eat lunch with us. Dad made us all sandwiches to take outside for a picnic, and mom made hibiscus tea."

Briar rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Pru, that sounds amazing, but I'm still hurting from yesterday, and I kind of just want to sleep for while."

"But it's supposed to be a family picnic. It won't be complete without you." Prunella stuck out her lower lip and looked at Briar with the biggest doe eyes known to man. Briar could even swear she was about to cry on command. Highly unfair, but rather effective.

"Alright, alright, I'll come out. Just give me a minute to get dressed, ok?"

Prunella immediately brightened up, any traces of her incoming tears completely wiped away as she hopped off of Briar's bed and left the room to give him some privacy.

Briar sighed. He really should eat something. He knew that realistically he should be eating at least three times a day, but it was just so hard to force himself to eat when he didn't feel hungry. His body's lack of hunger cues always led to him skipping meals and then throwing them up when he tried to make up for it hours later.

Lately he'd been doing a little better about eating, but the thought of lunch made him queasy. Maybe he could drink some of the tea, though. That should be a little easier to keep down.

Briar sat up with a groan. His hips and knees were killing him, which he expected after running all over the bed and breakfast yesterday, but otherwise he felt mostly alright.

Briar surveyed his closet skeptically. Today probably wasn't going to be a 'look good' day for him, so he turned his gaze away from his showier pieces and instead sorted through his more comfortable loungewear.

Eventually he settled on a simple pair of black sweatpants and an old purple t-shirt. The shirt was one of his favorites; the material was so soft and soothing against his skin, but he could only wear it inside out since the seams were kind of irritating. It wasn't normally an issue if he was just laying around the house, but he'd be going to his therapy appointment later, so he decided to cover it up with his red hoodie. Or Chase's hoodie, he supposed. That was still a little hard for Briar to believe, but either way, he wasn't giving it back. If it really was Chase's old hoodie, surely he wouldn't mind lending it to his fake/hopefully not fake boyfriend. Which was a whole other issue.

Briar hadn't actually asked Chase about their relationship yesterday.

With everything that had happened, and the strangely tense dinner, the question had simply slipped from his mind, replaced by the slightly more urgent question of 'is everything okay with the Hollows?'

Chase had seemed a little out of it, which made more sense after he fell asleep on top of Briar, but then he hadn't been breathing very well while he was sleeping. Briar's first thought was that Chase was maybe coming down with something, but Chase had very vehemently denied being sick, so that was off the table.

Briar chewed his lip in thought. Was it even any of his business? He'd considered texting Chase and asking how he was doing, but he didn't want to come off as nosy, so the idea was scrapped.

He could maybe ask Mr. Hollow if Chase was really alright, but they had both been acting strange last night.

Perhaps the best course of action was to simply let time sort out any issues. He could just wait until Chase was comfortable enough to talk to him.

And then maybe they could talk about… other things.

…Or not… Was he rushing into this? They hadn't known each other for very long. Maybe it was too soon to jump into an actual romantic relationship.

But wouldn't it be better to know sooner rather than later if it was even an option for the two of them? Briar knew from his grandfather that Chase was gay, but that didn't guarantee that he'd be interested in pursuing a relationship.

They could just stay friends.

But did friends have contact names like 'Sleeping Beauty' and 'Prince Charming?' Briar had thought that maybe Chase was trying to hint that he thought he was attractive, but maybe it had just been because he'd been sleeping a lot that day?

Or maybe it didn't mean anything at all and Briar was just some desperate loser grasping at straws.

The more he thought about it, the more Briar's mind became tangled and knotted, running itself in circles. He needed a distraction.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Prunella started banging on the door, knocking him out of his internal dilema.

"Hurry up, doofus! How long does it take to get dressed?"

Briar huffed. He'd almost retorted that 'looking good takes time,' but the effect would have been severely dampened when he walked out looking the way he did. It wasn't that his clothes were bad looking, per se. Just that they were a little old and frayed. He'd tried to find more of them in the exact style, but the company had changed the fabric they used for the sweatpants, and the new ones he'd bought weren't as good to wear. He did actually have multiples of the purple shirt, but there was something about the familiarity of the oldest one that made him prefer it over any of the 'replacements' he'd bought over the years.

Clothing preferences aside, Briar pulled his wheelchair over to the door and opened it to reveal an impatient looking Prunella on the other side. She looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. "It took you that long to put on pants and a hoodie?"

"Yes. You should have seen it. They came to life and I had to wrestle them into submission before I could put them on. Now get out of the way."

Prunella rolled her eyes, but sidestepped so Briar could push his chair out of his room and close the door behind him before getting in it and wheeling down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

Briar's brows furrowed as he looked back at her. "Didn't you want me to eat lunch with you?"

"Yeah. Outside. Where all good picnics happen. Weren't you paying attention?"

Briar blinked. "Right. Of course. But you meant right now? Is everything already outside?"

"Duh! I told you dad made us sandwiches!"

"Oh yeah."

Prunella threw her hands in the air exasperatedly, turning away and walking out the side door. Briar stopped by the front room to get his shoes off of the rack, then followed his little sister out to the backyard. He'd decided to leave his chair inside in favor of just walking out to the picnic blanket. The chair didn't do very well in the grass, so unless he wanted to get out and push it everytime the wheels got stuck, it'd be better to just brave the perilous journey on foot.

Well. Not perilous, but his parents sure acted like it was. He could walk just fine. Sure it was much easier and way less painful with the cruches— and more so with the chair— but he could do without them in a pinch. Provided his joints were relatively stable, of course. They tended to play games with when they wanted to work or not.

They'd all learned it was safer to bet on them not being stable after his knees had buckled and he fell down the stairs that one time. Briar shook the embarrassing memory out of his head.

Outside on the grass, his parents and sister were sitting on one of the many colorful patch quilts his mom had made, eating a simple lunch and just enjoying the sunshine.

Briar plopped down next to them on the blanket, drawing their attention to his lack of mobility aids.

"Briar…" Agatha began.

"I know, I know. But walking twenty feet unassisted isn't going to kill me. Besides, the chair is more trouble than it's worth to get out the door and down the steps."

"Well, where are your crutches?" Vincent asked, handing Briar a plate of food.

"Inside. Look, it's fine. My legs hurt, but I don't feel like I have to worry about falling today." Briar took a bite of the sandwich and smiled. It was actually quite tasty, and he didn't immediately feel like vomiting, so that was a good sign.

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not about falling, it's about keeping your joints aligned. You know that. Everytime you do this you flare up."

Briar looked away. His father wasn't wrong. He did tend to flare up whenever he insisted on walking without his crutches, but was it so wrong to want to be able to move around independently?

He supposed that maybe this was one of those things you just don't argue about, so instead of speaking his mind, he muttered out a quiet "Sorry."

Vincent sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful. You know your limits better than anyone, but that doesn't mean you should push yourself just for the sake of proving you can."

"Right. Fine." Briar took another bite of his sandwich, which seemed enough to placate his father for the time being. Briar absentmindedly realized he'd been picking away at it while getting lectured. Honestly, that was probably why his dad had kept talking. The distraction had lasted long enough for Briar to eat a little more than half of the sandwich. Briar almost felt proud of himself for not feeling nauseous.

Well, he'd come this far without issue. Surely eating the rest wouldn't cause any problems. Hell, a full meal would probably prevent him from having problems later. Briar decided he should take advantage of the situation and eat as much as he could stomach.

As he finished his lunch, Vincent awkwardly cleared his throat. "So, Briar, about your therapy…"