Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a flicker that started it all.

A flicker of hope, the flicker of stage lights in icy blue eyes, the flickering flame that a wayward thought brought on. And easy as it was to blow out fire, the challenge came in surviving the darkness. Fitz felt the darkness as soon as the embers came to life in dull red glows.

Slinging a tote bag onto his shoulder, Fitz Vacker slammed his locker door shut. The locker area was congested enough to make him feel claustrophobic, with hardly a metre to each student. And of course, like any sensible private school, the students threw their bags on the narrow concrete walkway instead of in their doll-sized lockers. Fitz stood up and waved at his locker neighbour, still gathering items to shove in a pink tote bag. He noticed that most of its contents weren’t necessary for class, including the half-finished sketchbook and an enormous pair of lavender headphones. Fitz smiled.

Fitz would’ve said that Keefe Sencen and he were friends, if friends meant that they didn’t talk and occasionally waved to each other as they collected their stuff. Sure, they didn’t actually speak or sit next to each other in the bus they took to school each morning (how do you even start that conversation?), or glance at each other during the first thirty minutes of their day which they spent with their house-year level groups (form time wasn’t that important anyway). But they did walk to their beaten wooden bench every morning and avoided eye contact oh-so intentionally as they typed away at their laptops.

Fitz had Drama for the first two lessons of the day, which was by far his favourite. Sure, did a double lesson on learning about comedy and not actually performing anything sound like torture, but there was some comfort in knowing that Sir Conley would give him an A+ no matter what he wrote.

On days with Drama as the first lessons, Fitz waited with patience for Keefe to gather his things so the two could walk to class together. Despite the complete silence that ensued, Fitz didn’t feel it awkward; the pattern of their footsteps against the ground and the gentle wind sweeping their hair to the side was sound enough.

The Foxfire theatre was as it always was when the two entered: Dark except for the crowding of old mini sofas up against the other side of the room, across from the huge stage and seats that could’ve seated around a hundred people.

Fitz sat down on the floor first, and Keefe plopped down next to him, between Marella. Another thing: Marella and Keefe were best friends. Though Fitz didn’t see them outside of drama much, it was clear by the way they slid into easy conversation with each other. Marella was clearly the more talkative one, but Keefe still interjected with his signature jokes and small laughs.

Fitz had almost worked up the courage to wave when Sir Conley walked in. Today, his curly brown hair was tied in a ponytail and adorned an all-black suit. The instructions were as usual: continue with work, feel free to ask any questions.

Normally, Fitz skulked back into his lonely corner by now, hunching over his laptop and merely glanced at Keefe and Marella’s animated conversations. But this time was different. As Fitz stood up to walk, Keefe awkwardly waved at Fitz and tilted his chin toward himself and Marella. Fitz could hardly believe it. An invitation to join them? Fitz nodded and scurried toward the two, a polite smile on his face. The three greeted each other, Marella easily the most enthusiastic.

Soon, Marella began talking to Keefe, waving her arms around as she launched into a story about her weekend. Occasionally, she glanced at Fitz too, letting him know that he was a part of the conversation too. Fitz smiled. He even occasionally interjected with small chuckles and ohhhh ’s.

Fitz didn’t get as much work done as he would have liked. But he didn’t mind it, basking in the conversation that he was a part of and perhaps a deeper friendship with Keefe and Marella. When the three left, Fitz felt himself walking in line with Keefe and Marella, who didn’t seem to mind his presence in the least. When he waved goodbye to the two, he found himself beaming.

“You’re far too happy for this early in the morning,” Stina laughed, waiting as Fitz gathered his books.

Fitz rolled his eyes. “You know Keefe Sencen?”

“Duh.”

“Well, he and I and Marella spent the lesson together,” Fitz paused for dramatic effect. “ Not in awkward silence.”

“Achievements,” Stina snorted. Fitz scoffed, rolling his teal eyes as he did so. The two walked over to their usual spot outside the cafeteria. The sun burned down on their necks, but it was tradition by now. Fitz and Stina grabbed their seats opposite an approaching Jensi and Maruca.

“What did you have?” Fitz asked.

“DTE,” Jensi stretched as he sat on his chair. “I hate all tech subjects.”

“Agreed,” Maruca added. “I was in Philosophy, which is far better.”

“I can't wait to do that next semester,” Stina said excitedly. “Mr Faxon is really good, apparently.”

“He talks a lot,” Maruca said. “But he gives us chocolate, so I’ll allow it.”

The four burst out in laughter. Fitz turned his head to the window, grinning but stopped in his tracks when he saw who was sitting inside. Sure enough, it was a blond haired, blue eyed Keefe Sencen laughing with Marella, Tam and Linh. Typically, Fitz would’ve looked away and continued conversation with his friends, but there was something in the four’s demeanor that fixated Fitz on them. It wasn’t until Stina tapped his shoulder that he was pulled out of the trance. Stina raised an eyebrow in confusion, to which Fitz shrugged. He wasn’t sure why Keefe’s group caught his attention.

Recess ended too soon. Fitz and his friends groaned as they packed up their things and shuffled out of the seats. Stina elbowed Keefe.

“What do you have?” Stina asked.

Fitz thought for a moment. “English, Science, History. All core subjects.”

Stina dragged a finger down her cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch buddy.”

“Not if I drive myself mad first.”

Chapter Text

That day, when school ended, Fitz felt more vigilant than he normally did. As he completed his last lesson of the day—the dreaded maths—he didn’t feel as drained as he usually did. Instead, excitement ran through his veins.

As he walked onto the bus, he noticed Keefe sitting right at the front, his usual headphones pressing down on his blond hair and his phone in his hand, but this time he looked up at Fitz, and after an awkward moment, he smiled. Fitz smiled back. He sat in a double seat two seats behind Keefe, deciding not to pull out his phone as the bus started. Instead, he stared out the window until his bus stop. When he got off, he waited for his sister, who took an annoyingly long time as always.

“School is exhausting,” Biana groaned.

“You’re in, like, Year 7.” Fitz joked.

“Why are there letters in Maths?” Biana whined. “I never even liked English that much but now I hate it more.”

“Don’t blame English for your lack of algebra skills,” Fitz snorted,

“Also, my stomach hurts,” Biana said, sending a glare at Fitz. “Like, my abdomen. It’s weird, I’m not on my period.”

Fitz shrugged. “Acidity?” 

“I ate lunch.”

“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.” Fitz rolled his eyes.

“You will be one day,” Biana complained. “And when that happens, I’m going to get you to prescribe me painkillers for every minor inconvenience.”

“That sounds like drug addiction.”

“Not if it’s prescribed by a doctor,” Biana smirked wickedly, tossing her glossy black hair behind her shoulders.

As Fitz and Biana walked into the house, one thing became clear: their parents were in that mood again. You know, the mood where they decide that all furniture looks ugly and feel the imminent need to rearrange it immediately. That’s why Fitz found Alden and Della huffing as they moved the piano against the far corner.

“What’s…this?” Fitz asked cautiously. Della looked up.

“We just wanted to change how it looks,” Della straightened up, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. “The house looks less congested now.”

Fitz cringed. With the piano right next to the TV, the only thing Fitz could predict was being noisy. But Fitz flipped his grimace into a smile, and decided to take a shower to wash the grime off his body.

After hopping out of the shower, Fitz sat down at the piano, and he had to begrudgingly admit that the new spot made the sunlight hit the papers oh-so beautifully. He pulled out some of his sheet music, ignoring his slipping glasses as he tried to read the music. Even after years of doing piano, he’d never quite gotten the hang of it, always fumbling over the notes and taking far too long learning the fingering. While everyone else he knew was learning The River Flows in You , Fitz decided to pick a song that was much closer to his heart. As he began playing, the intoxicating melody of In The Rain filled the house. Though to everyone else, it was just a building, beautiful piece, Fitz knew it was far, far more than that. The first time he heard this, he was five in 2025 and was watching the Origins episode of Miraculous Ladybug. Marinette had just walked out of school and held her hand up to the pouring rain, and Adrien had followed suit. And in a moment of cinematic genius, Adrien held out the umbrella in his hand and stared at Marinette for a pivotal second, before she grabbed the umbrella and fumbled over the buttons. Ever since then, all Fitz could wish for was that kind of chemistry with someone; where the stars would all align and he would leave the interaction wonder struck.

When Fitz closed the piano, his mind was filled with the same gleaming scene that he’d watched when he was so young. Untensing his shoulders, he sat down at his desk. Now that piano practice was over, he had to get through the most dreaded task of the day: studying.

Of course, Fitz was achieving for all A’s, because why wouldn’t he? His parents had given him all the opportunities in the world for him to succeed, including lots of outside of school tutoring and plenty of distance to study. Despite it all, Fitz felt disappointment at every report card that they got sent. Always one B+, always a subject where his effort grade didn’t quite match his standards. And of course, his parents would put an arm around his shoulders and say they were proud of him for trying his best, but he couldn’t ignore the lost light in their eyes and small frown, nor the pit in his stomach that could never be filled. 

Fitz pulled out his laptop and began attempting the maths homework for today. No , he told himself. This year will be different .

Even if it kills you? A voice in his head seemed to ask.

Fitz was quiet. Even if it kills me .

Maths homework was never fun, but wasn’t usually hard, and always sat in between at an annoying tedious . Time consuming but doable, that left him emotionally drained. He even skipped dinner that night and opted for bottles of water to sustain him.

When he finally closed his book at the end of the day, he felt relief flood his body. He made a few mistakes here and there, but by practicing the method, he was able to manage even the difficult questions just fine. He quickly hopped on his and his friends’ group chat to send a quick message.

Fitz: Just finished the maths hw

Fitz: Might have to start drinking coffee to cope ngl

Fitz: sleep

Satisfied, Fitz freshened up for bed and tucked himself under his weighted blanket, pulling the covers up to his neck. Normally, he would spend the next hour doom scrolling Tumblr but decided today that he would try and fix his sleep schedule that would leave most doctors screaming. Fitz switched off the lights, but he had to stare at the ceiling for an hour before sleep found him.

Chapter Text

When Fitz saw the first two lessons of the day were Music, he decided the day was ruined.

Even though he had done piano since he was five, there wasn’t a lesson he hated more than Music . To summarise, he’d never quite gotten the hang of music theory, his grasp on rhythm was practically nonexistent and his performance anxiety was higher than his grades. The only saving grace was that Fitz had all his friends with him during the double lesson.

Well, minus Keefe. It was a little strange to call Keefe his friend now, even though they’d had more conversation yesterday than in the last two years. All Fitz knew of Keefe was that he liked drawing and was always found in his corner by himself, scribbling away in his sketchbook. It seemed to Fitz, the more he talked to Keefe, the more he realised how little he actually knew him.

As Fitz sat down on his seat next to Stina, he felt his eyes droop. Damn it. There was just something about Music that at nine in the morning that even a mug of coffee couldn’t fix. Fitz’s teacher droned on about intervals, but it was the word assignment that caught his attention.

“We’ll be starting a new assignment,” the teacher, Ms Sanja, said. “There’s two parts you have to submit, one is a powerpoint presentation that’s a folio of your progress as a musician, and the second is a performance in front of the class.”

Performance .

That also caught Fitz’s attention.

The class immediately burst into excited whispers. Fitz, however, wanted to choke on an orange. The other teacher, Ms Ceah, shushed them. “It’ll be super easy, we’ll make it easy to understand. You have to choose an instrument and piece to play and practice every week, and need to have a teacher to learn from. From your weekly sessions with your teacher, you need to record your practice and put it on the folio, along with some comments for improvement and a goal for next week.”

The entire class groaned, which made Ms Ceah laugh.

“It’s easy if you keep on top of it. Anyways, after that, you have to send us a copy of your sheet music so we can assess you on when you perform. You have six weeks.”

Six weeks ? Fitz could hardly learn a page in six weeks, though that might’ve been because he was never that determined to perform his pieces. Nervously, Fitz looked around. The reactions were mixed. There were some of the smart kids, the over-over-achievers, who seemed to take the news with a small smirk on their face. Some seemed to take it with a casual nod. The only thing he didn’t see was nerves, and Fitz had never felt so alone.

“Write down what instrument you’re doing - voice included. Pass this around.” Ms Sanja said, handing Maruca the slip of paper. When it finally came Fitz’s turn, he noted down piano in loopy handwriting.

Fitz walked out of double Music, slightly shaken that day. Stina elbowed him. 

“Opinions on the Music assignment?” Stina asked, gathering her belongings from her locker. She was unlucky enough to get the bottom locker, third year in a row.

“You might want to account for the fact I have performance anxiety, am inconsistent as fuck and am shit at music theory.”

“That’s one perspective,” Stina considered. “But you’re really good at that one song, right? The Miraculous Ladybug one.”

Fitz nodded. “Yeah, but again. Performance anxiety. I’d fuck up all the notes no matter how well I knew the song.”

Stina’s features crinkled as she scrunched her face together. Fitz sighed. He loved Stina to bits, but Stina never really did understand performance anxiety in the way Fitz did. Sure, did Stina have the typical pre-performance jitters from time to time, yes. But Stina was never paralysed from the fear of messing up or the several eyes watching him that were probably going to judge him and spread rumours about him and—

“You’ll be okay, bro,” Stina said lightly, taking out her recess of a protein bar. Stina had a weird fixation on protein bars, even though she had never taken an interest in working out.

As the two walked outside the cafeteria, they noticed that their seats were taken by a pair of older girls, who were throwing their heads back, laughing at something funny on their phones. They pouted.

“Spot-stealers,” Stina grumbled. She grabbed Fitz’s arm as he scanned for spots outside, but they were all taken.

“Inside, maybe?” Fitz suggested. “It’s warmer out here but it’s still pretty nice in there. Maruca and Jensi will figure it out.”

Stina nodded, peering inside the windows. “Oh, look, there’s one seat there. It’s kinda close to Tam and Linh’s group, though. Do you think that’ll be awkward?”

Fitz glanced at the friend group and noticed that once again, they were immersed in something Marella was telling them. Keefe was laughing raucously, he noticed. “I doubt. They’re pretty nice, actually.”

“I bet,” Stina said, lowering his voice as he walked inside. “They’re the most drama free group of all time. Just wholesome vibes, I guess.”

When Stina reached the table, she grabbed a seat with its back turned to the friend group. Fitz chose the seat opposite to her, in clear view of the group - specially Keefe. Fitz looked over, just checking his surroundings only to find Keefe looking straight at him. It was a passing glance, Fitz was sure, because Keefe nearly did a double take, seeing him there. The two locked eyes for a moment, not smiling, not saying hi, before turning away again to their respective conversations. Fitz bit his lip. Half-interactions like that always left him feeling prickly all over, like someone was crawling on his skin. Even the charming awkwardness of Keefe couldn’t diffuse the feeling. He could judge the air between the two in drama, which was his next lesson.

Stina and Fitz spent the lunchtime alone — Maruca and Jensi had a committee meeting, turns out — and when it came time to leave, Stina had to sprint away. Turns out Ms Iskra, Stina’s DTE teacher, was not a fan of tardiness. Fitz thought that meant that he was to walk to Drama alone, but Keefe waved him down.

“Hey,” Keefe said, gripping the handle of his tote bag. “We have Drama right?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, glancing at Marella, who was smiling at them. “Wanna walk together?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Again, the conversation was carried by Marella, but this time Fitz was able to interject with remarks and laughter. He even managed to reply to something Keefe said - something miscellaneous - and get a laugh out of him too. If that wasn’t progress, he didn’t know what was.

“I hear Mr Conley has some announcement for us,” Keefe said. “Something fun, hopefully, because I hate whatever we’re doing right now.”

Marella and Fitz nodded as they walked into the theatre. As everyone took their seats, Mr Conley entered the space, grinning. “I have some news.”

Chapter Text

The class burst into hushed, curious whispers, not-so-subtly turning their heads to their friends and back toward Mr Conley. Fitz exchanged glances with a confused Keefe Sencen and an excited Marella Redek. 

“We’re doing a play this year,” Mr Conley clapped his hands together. 

The class again began whispering, this time with excitement. True, not many were theatre kids, but doing a play meant there were characters, and where there were characters there were side characters, and where they were side characters, they were opportunities to do as little work as possible.

Fitz, however, couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He was one for dramatics, after all. One glance at Keefe and Marella revealed their status as latent theatre kids, by the grins they wore.

Sir Conley shushed the class. “We have three options; I’m personally rooting for one but I won’t say which. We’ll do a read through of each script, and we’ll have mini performances of a particular scene from different groups, and then we’ll vote on one.”

The entire class again began murmuring. Fitz and Keefe looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, but by the blooming smiles, it was clear that they were satisfied.

“The first play is about a girl who pretends to kidnap someone for attention and suffers consequences for it. It’s called Laura Reinger . It’s set in today’s world, very much a Gen-Z cast of characters, with more modern dialogue.”

Sir Conley waited for the class to let that information sink in. The class seemed to like that option, as shown by the handful of smiling faces. Fitz crinkled his features. Not that he’d hate doing that as a play, but surely there were better options.

“Option is called The Real Alice in Wonderland . It’s Alice in Wonderland , but it has two stories being told, one of the original Alice in Wonderland, and one that is the real one,” Mr Conley put the word in air quotes. “Normal Alice is the one from the Disney movie, nice and caring and wakes up at the end of it all realising it’s a dream, and the real one is where Alice is mean and rude to everyone. The end of the play favours the real Alice, and instead of her waking up, she kills the Queen of Hearts.”

That caught Fitz’s attention. He grinned from ear-to-ear. Yes, this was a much better choice than that Laura one, and even offered a chance for him to redeem himself from the role of “cake” when they did Alice in Wonderland three years ago. 

“The last option is—I think you’ll like this one— 67 Cinderellas . It’s a comedy that’s set around three hundred years ago and is a twist on Cinderella. The prince is the main character and a fool for love, and completely believes that fairytales are real and will help him find the love of his life. And all the other characters are ridiculous to a comical extent.”

This one had the whole class practically cheering, and had Fitz torn. This play was by far the coolest, but he still liked the idea of being the maddest Mad Hatter the school had ever seen. He looked beside him to Keefe, who had a similar thoughtful expression on his face instead of his smile that actually looked more like a smirk. 

“We’ll go through all these plays so you’ll have an idea for how it’ll look like,” Mr Conley said. “And we’ll vote in two weeks and we’ll get the scripts by near the end of the term. We won’t actually start practicing until the beginning of next term. For now, you can get into groups and do some Drama exercises.”

Everyone was well aware that by Drama exercises, Mr Conley just meant they could do whatever they wanted. Fitz found himself scooting close to Marella and Keefe. 

“What do you think?” He managed to ask, silently cheering himself for pushing past the awkwardness. “Which play do you want to do?”

Marella was first to answer. “ 67 Cinderellas is definitely my pick. If I don’t get to play the stepmother or step sisters, though, I might just quit Drama.”

That earned a chuckle from Keefe. “I think 67 Cinderellas is going to win no matter what the three of us choose.”

Fitz had to keep himself from going wide eyed. Something about the way Keefe said the three of them, like they were an established group of friends, made Fitz feel warm. 

“Which one did you want to do?” Fitz asked, turning to Keefe.

Keefe considered the question. “I’m not a fan of number one, would prefer number three, wouldn’t mind number two. If there’s ever an opportunity for me to play a prince, I am obligated to do it.”

Keefe flipped his hair and batted his eyelashes, then promptly burst into a fit of giggles. When he straightened, he said, “I’ve been the prince in all the plays I’ve done in the last two years. In Year 7, I played the prince in that mini performance we did, and in Year 8, we did that mish-mash of fairytales one and I was the prince. Gotta keep up my record this year.”

Fitz laughed. “Oh, so you were in second semester Drama last year? I was in first. We did The Twits , and I played Mr Twit.” Fitz felt his cheeks bloom with pride.

“Oh, yeah, I heard about your play, I’m sure you did great,” Keefe smiled. 

“You have competition this year,” Fitz grinned, not sure where he got the confidence.

Keefe smirked back. “Remember, you’re up against a legend.”

“And you’re up against me .”

Marella roared with laughter. “We haven’t even chosen the play yet.”

One glance at Marella, and Fitz and Keefe burst out laughing. Fitz did so until his cheeks hurt and were bright red.

At the end of the lesson, Mr Conley dismissed them by reminding them to think about which play they wanted to do. Fitz had it on his mind the entire day, and he was determined, no matter what the play was, to land a lead role.

Chapter Text

“A play?” Stina blinked. “That sounds fun.”

Fitz nodded excitedly. “And we get to choose between the three options. Well, there is one I’m pretty sure will, so I’m confident my vote won’t do much, but still!”

“You’re definitely a theatre kid,” Stina snorted, taking another bite of her protein bar. “What character do you want to play?”

“If we get the Alice in Wonderland one, the one I want, the Mad Hatter, but if we get the play we’re most likely going to get, then Prince Dalliance.”

“Dalliance!” Stina burst into laughter. “That name, dude.”

Fitz flashed Stina a winning smile. “Do I look like a Dalliance?”

“You look like a dork,” Stina said. “Which is the same thing.”

Fitz lightly punched Stina on her arm, which made Stina playfully roll her eyes. Jensi sprinted over from nowhere, pulling into a sight opposite Fitz and panting. His normally frizzy hair was in ten different directions, and his face gleamed with a waxy sheen,

“Music lesson,” Jensi tucked a stray curl behind his ear. “And are you guys talking about the Drama plays? They were talking about that in my class.”

Fitz nodded. “I’m going to try for the prince, since that’s probably the play we’re going to do.”

“Isn’t Keefe also doing that?” Jensi pointed at the blond inside the cafe, who was smiling softly to himself, his chin tipped down to his neck.

“Yeah, he’s got those princely qualities, or something,” Fitz said. “But you know, there’s me, and there’s no one who’s more like Prince Dalliance more than myself.”

“Prince Dalliance ?” Jensi’s nose crinkled as he laughed. “What kind of magical curse were his parents under to name him that?”

“It’s not that bad of a name!” 

“We know, we know, though, it is funny to clown on,” Stina said, finishing up the protein bar in her hand. She pulled her sleeve back and checked the time on her watch. “Oh fuck, nearly end of lunch.”

After the three of them let out a collective groan, they packed their stuff up and began walking toward the Year 9 lockers. While Fitz was strolling along, he noticed Keefe talking to Marella. Without thinking too hard, he sent him a wave and Keefe waved back with a slightly confused smile. Fitz turned red. Oh fuck, was that awkward? Were they not close enough to do that? It was just a wave, wasn’t it? Fitz turned his head away as he sprinted to History.

Lady Cadence was already there when he arrived, sporting her usual sharp eyeliner and serious resting face. Though, this lesson was for working on a worksheet she’d assigned last time, so Fitz popped his bright red headphones and clicked play and began working away.

His mind, ever the wanderer, could only think about that music assignment. HIs cheeks burned as the thought of messing up inundated his mind, and turned his neat handwriting into messy squiggles. 

Fitz dropped his pencil. There was no focusing if he couldn’t get it out of his mind, which is why decided to hop online and text Stina. 

Fitz: I hate music sm

Stina: bro we aren’t even in music rn

Stina: i hate english tho

Stina: thats my lesson rn

Fitz quickly switched screens as Ms Cadence walked by, checking on her students. Fitz could’ve sworn she scowled at the mostly-blank worksheet in front of him, but he was okay with it as long as he wasn’t caught.

Fitz: I’m like crazy nervous for the assignment

Fitz: i cant perform  

Stina: dude

Stina: it’s like six weeks away

Fitz: Ik but still

Fitz: I can’t perform

Stina: bro calm down its all good tf

Fitz felt a burst of irritation creep into his mind and make it’s way into his texting voice, but he forced himself to keep it nice and polite.

Fitz: Still kinda nervous tho

Stina: u have plenty of time 

Stina: i believe in u son

Fitz: Gtg ms cadence aint gonna be happy im talking to u

Fitz closed the tab and switched to another one, allowing the music to fill his mind again. It was true, he lied—Ms Cadence wasn’t really behind him—but he couldn’t think of a more polite way to say goodbye to Stina (“this conversation is making me feel worse about myself” wasn’t on brand to Fitz). He felt his shoulders sag as he replayed the conversation, and his heart rate sped up. He tried very hard not to think about it all throughout history.

“You’re gonna perform that song in front of your class?” Biana confirmed when the two got home that day. “Man, I’m definitely not choosing Music in Year 9.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “It’ll be fine.”

“Are those your words or, like, everyone else’s?”

“Why are you even here?” Fitz whined. “Shoo and do some homework or something. I don’t know, do you have much homework in Year 7?”

“ Any homework is too much homework.”

“Hmm, can’t argue with that,” Fitz concurred. 

“I’m going to pretend to do Maths homework so mum and dad will get off my back.” Biana said, slipping away and leaving Fitz to start practicing. With his phone and sheet music on the music stand, he was all ready to go. He clicked play on the phone and began purposefully stumbling over the piano notes, like it was his first time playing it. He only got through the first page before he stopped recording. Okay, week one done. Now to replicate that for the next five weeks.

But playing piano by yourself in your very own house with no one important to judge you was one thing, and playing a song—a Miraculous Ladybug song, no less—in front of a whole class of musicians with judgy teachers to grade you was another. Fitz’s fingers quivered from the thought of it. But the only way to build confidence in piano was to build muscle memory, so he began playing the piece—normally—to soothe his nerves.

Chapter Text

When Fitz boarded the bus that day, he noticed Keefe.

It was hard not to—a shock of bright blond hair and lavender headphones—but it was hard to decide what to do after that. Should he wave at him, flash him a signature Fitz smile? Should he turn his head away and pretend he didn’t know who Keefe was? Would that be awkward at Drama? Luckily, it seemed that Keefe was wrapped up listening to whatever he was listening to, staring out the window with bored eyes. Fitz peeled his eyes away from the blond and chose a single seat at the back of the bus. 

When they got off the bus, they did make brief eye contact as Keefe got off the bus, but there were no smiles or waves involved, just a simple nod as Keefe turned away to hail his guitar into the Music building. Fitz turned away and walked to his locker. 

“Didn’t wait for your friend ?” Stina said with a big grin.

Fitz sent her a confused look. “Keefe and I are hardly friends.”

Stina rolled his eyes. “I know . It was a joke.”

Maybe Fitz just wasn’t observant, but it didn’t sound like a joke at all, just a dry question that he would have replied to with a dry answer. Fitz adjusted the tote bag on his shoulder.

“I gotta get to form,” Stina said, pointing her thumb behind her. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah.”

Stina waved goodbye as she walked off to the Science building, which was where her form was. Fitz lingered for a moment at the lockers before taking off to his form. Keefe would find his way to form on his own, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t disobey some unspoken social agreement the two had by not waiting for him, would he?

It didn’t seem so. Keefe sat down opposite Fitz, but instead of pulling out his laptop, he pulled out a black sketchbook with a number on the front. Fitz had the urge to stay silent, but curiosity got the better of him.

“You draw?” Fitz said. Of course he fucking draws, you idiot. You’ve seen him with his sketchbook multiple times.

Keefe nodded slowly. “Yeah. This is a new one, since I finished my old ones.” he paused for a slightly awkward moment. “Do you want to see some of my sketches?”

Fitz nodded excitedly. Keefe smiled, reaching across the table and flipping through the pages as he talked about his drawings.

“These are some of my characters,” Keefe said quickly. Fitz’s hand stopped him, fingers on a page with a messy sketch of three people, each in three very iconic outfits.

“Your characters?” Fitz asked.

Keefe turned a bit red as he nodded. “My own personal characters. Uh, ones I made up, I guess.”

“OCs?” Fitz asked, flashing back to when his Year 7 self made some very tropey characters that thankfully, never saw the light of day.

Keefe’s eyes lit up as he nodded. “Yeah. Do you have any?”

Fitz thought hard. “Not any that I’d like to ever write about. Year 7 me was a little insane.”

The two laughed lightly. Keefe tucked his sketchbook away into his pale pink tote bag, and pulled out his laptop. He sent one final smile Fitz’s way before absorbing himself in the world of his laptop. Fitz, too, grabbed his laptop and began typing, but every so often his eyesight gravitated to Keefe. Softly, he smiled with the joy of making a new friend.

When he got to Maths, he found that Stina had already saved him a seat near the back of the classroom. Her Maths notebook was in front of her and open to a random page of equations, and her tote bag sat resting against the table leg.

“Hey,” Stina said. “I hate Maths so much.”

“Agreed,” Fitz nodded. “We can hate algebra together.”

Fitz pulled out his own books and flipped to a clean page, and pulled up his online textbook. Pen in his head, he wrote like there wasn’t enough time in the world to do so. A few questions in, though, he found himself stumped.

“Stina,” he tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Help me out?”

Stina peeked over and scrunched her nose. “That one? Dude, are you, like, stupid or something? It’s so easy.”

Fitz took a deep breath. “Could you explain it to me? Or, like, show me your working?”

Stina rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her face as she flipped to a few pages back. Fitz mentally took note of the problem structure and how Stina solved it before copying it down in his own book.

“I think I get it now,” Fitz said softly, mostly to himself.

“Good. Surprised you didn’t get it until now.” Stina laughed once again, but the laugh didn’t feel so joyous to Fitz. He turned red as he looked back at the question. It really wasn’t that hard, and he definitely shouldn’t have needed Stina’s help for it. Shame burned in his cheeks. After all the tutoring and practice he did, how could he struggle so much? 

Fitz kept up a poker face for the rest of the double lesson, only breaking out in a soft smile when everyone got up to leave for recess. He waited for Stina, completely silently as she packed up her stuff. 

“Let’s go,” Stina said, and the two walked out of the classroom. Stina began talking about her previous night, and how annoying her parents were. Fitz nodded along, responding as he usually did to his friend’s remarks. He tried to tamp down the rising anxiety that filled his chest. It really didn’t matter, did it? God, why was he still thinking about this? Stina had moved on, Fitz should have been moving on—scratch that, this wasn’t even something he had to move on from. Stina said something, Fitz said some other things. That was all it was. Fitz told himself this all the way to recess.

Chapter Text

The next double lesson was Science, which he had with Stina. Fitz tensed. He knew exactly why he felt so negatively toward Stina lately, but admitting it was a whole new realm of difficulty. He felt his knees knock against each other as he walked into the Science classroom, with Stina already sitting there and waving him down. Fitz took his usual seat beside Stina and opened the practice test that he was working on. Fitz adhered to his usual system: answering as many questions as he could and starring the ones he didn’t understand. All was fine until Stina peaked over and began giggling.

“Dude, you just have to label the parts of a wave. Seriously, it isn’t that hard. How aren’t you getting this?” she said, shoving her pencil onto Fitz’s practice sheet and circling the points she’d left blank. Fitz turned red, and Stina’s laugh only amplified in his mind, drowning out all noise and reason. Fitz placed a hand on his chest, and he felt his heartbeat speed up against the touch, so loud he could hear it in his ears. His vision blurred. Whether it was tears or his imagination, he wasn’t sure, but it was paired with the inability to breathe. Suddenly, Fitz Vacker was unable to function on a Thursday afternoon.

“Dude, are you okay? You look a little…” Stina scrunched her eyebrows closer to her eyes.

Fitz could hardly register the words as he choked out, “I’m fine, I need the bathroom.”

Stina nodded confusedly as Fitz excused himself from the classroom. As soon as he was out of anyone’s line of sight, Fitz dropped to his knees and tried to breathe deeply, but his inhaling and exhaling was punctuated with shuddering breaths and clogged his nose and throat and lungs. It was as if someone had placed a wooden board in his chest and asked him to take a breath, but all he could do was mangled palpitations. Somewhere along the way, tears managed to streak his face and all he wanted to do was jump out of his body and get the itchy fabrics and tickling hair and sticky tears off his face, but he couldn't . 

I have to go to the nurse, Fitz remembered, finding a sliver of clarity among the chaos. Foxfire Academy felt so alien now, so foreign, but he managed to find the Healing Centre and push himself into the air conditioned room.

The first thing he saw when he entered the room was the way-too-bright lights. The second was two men in uniforms throwing hands at each other.

Well, to be more specific, throwing hand signs .

Fitz felt awkward, panting as the two men threw their hands vigorously, and even though Fitz didn’t know much Auslan, he could tell by their scrunched eyebrows and apparent frowns that they were not being friendly. 

The first man to notice him was one with a white streak in his brown hair, with an ID hanging from a lanyard around his neck on top of a white coat. He seemed surprised when Fitz walked in, and the two dropped their hands to their sides instantly.

“Hi, I’m Elwin, the school counsellor,” the other man said, with curly brown hair and glasses. He wore a small smile on his face. “This is Nurse Hamish. He’s new here but he's an excellent nurse.”

Hamish nodded.

“I’m mostly here to translate,” Elwin explained. “I’m quite good at Auslan, if I do say so myself.” Beside him, Hamish rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Elwin asked, inspecting Fitz but keeping another eye on Hamish. 

Fitz was so good at preparing conversations—he spent a lot of time in the late hours of the night thinking up what to say to his friends when he came to school—but somehow, he’d forgotten to mention any symptoms.

“I, uh,” Fitz stumbled over his words. Sensing his unease, Hamish gestured to one of the chairs in the room. Fitz sat down. “I was in class earlier and I was fine for the most part, then suddenly I couldn’t breathe, and my heartrate was really fast and I felt really… out of the moment.”

Hamish squinted at Elwin, resting his hands on his hips as he thought for a moment. The two seemed to have a secret exchange that Fitz was dying to know. After the silence, Elwin spoke. 

“I think,” Elwin said, and it seemed as if he were picking the words carefully. “I think you had a panic attack.”

Panic attack?

“I think it’s best you and I go to my office and we can talk about it,” Elwin said, and Hamish nodded beside him. Normally, the words would’ve sent Fitz spiraling, but Elwin’s soft tone and kind demeanor put him at ease. Fitz stood up, but as he did so, Hamish ran to a desk and pulled out a slip of paper, quickly signing it before handing it to Fitz. It was a signed explained absence slip.

Fitz smiled, deciding to put his limited use of Auslan to the test. He placed his fingers on his chin and drew it outward toward Nurse Hamish. Thank you .

Nurse Hamish smiled wryly, pointing toward Fitz, then making a beckoning motion twice with both of his hands.

“He says you’re welcome ,” Elwin clarified. “Should we get going?”

Fitz nodded, nodding goodbye to Nurse Hamish as he gathered himself and followed Elwin to his office. It was a small, congested room, but Elwin had appropriately decked it out with two small sofas opposite each other and colourful framed pictures of cheesy quotes, and a half-drunken mug of coffee sitting on a small table between them. Elwin took a spot and Fitz sat down opposite him, instinctively grabbing his knees.

“Want some?” Elwin pulled out a plate of chocolate chip cookies and held it out to Fitz. As much as Fitz loved chocolate chip cookies, he politely declined, feeling the nausea build in his stomach. 

“Suit yourself. I’ve found that it helps with the whole ‘calming-and-chill-school-counsellor vibe I’m going for,” Elwin said, munching on a cookie himself. 

Fitz nodded uneasily, unsure where this was going. Noticing Fitz’s apprehension, Elwin sighed softly.

“Okay. You had a panic attack? Let’s talk about it.”

Chapter Text

Fitz slunk back into the cushions of the couch, turning a bit red.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about it,” Elwin clarified. “Happens to a lot of students. A lot of staff, too.”

“Really?” Fitz said in a small voice. As far as he’d heard, hardly anyone had a panic attack. Everyone just seemed so good at coping.

Elwin nodded. “You know, the first time I had a panic attack was around your age. I was with Hamish—”

“Nurse Hamish?” Fitz asked, turning his head in curiosity.

“Yeah,” Elwin said, nodding. “We’ve known each other a while now. Can’t really shake him.” Elwin smiled. “Hamish was there when I had the panic attack, and he helped me through it.” He said it with a small smile on his face, like he was reminiscing about those times.

Then why did they seem so angry at each other?

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Elwin asked. He pointed at the wall. “As the poster says, judgement free zone.”

Fitz swallowed. “Well, I was in class and my friend was talking to me, and next thing I know, I’m a mess. I stepped outside the classroom before anyone noticed, but I’m pretty sure my friend knew I wasn’t alright.”

Elwin considered this for a moment before saying, “Did your friend say anything before you had the attack?”

Fitz tensed, trying not to recall the conversation Stina and him had before he had the panic attack. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, why he wanted to bury it, but he knew he wanted to. But, he pushed through the discomfort. “We were talking about schoolwork.”

“Is there anything about schoolwork that stresses you out?” Elwin asked slowly.

Fitz turned his head down in shame. “Well, I was doing some physics questions and I usually leave the questions I don’t know blank so I can work on that later, and my friend kinda… poked fun at me for not knowing the answer. I mean, she’s normally like that but this time it felt… different. Then the panic attack happened.”

Elwin bit his lip as he searched for an answer. “About your friend… did you feel good about it, bad about it, what was your thought process?”

Fitz had to think hard to remember the moment. So many emotions nipped at him, in the moment and now. “I felt… embarrassed. And angry.” Fitz glanced at his fists to find them clenching. “It wasn’t a big deal though.”

“Must have been to trigger a panic attack,” Elwin said. “I might be totally wrong here but I’m guessing these events didn’t happen in isolation? You’ve felt this way with your friend before?”

Fitz nodded. He felt like he was naked; all of his weaknesses and problems were on display and Elwin was reading them to a T.

Elwin paused before giving his answer. “You know what I think? That your friend probably doesn’t realise how much of an impact their jokes had on you. We all have different… hmm, let’s say thresholds for jokes and teasing. And you know, the tried and true method of communication never fails. Talk to them.”

Fitz sighed, perhaps too loudly. That was the exact response he was trying to avoid.

“It’s either that or continue to feel miserable,” Elwin warned. “Or, you know, try and make new friends.”

Fitz’s mind flashed to Keefe, smirking at him earlier in Drama. Even though the two hardly knew each other, Fitz’s mind went to Keefe first, imagining easy-flowing conversation and raucous laughs at the cafe table. He felt a bit embarrassed, so comfortable with someone he wasn’t really close to.

“Have someone in mind?” Elwin guessed, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah. There’s this dude named Keefe in my year. We don’t talk much but I have a feeling we’d be good friends.” Fitz said, a smile of his own splitting his face.

“Share any classes with him?” Elwin asked.

“Yeah. Drama for the year, and hopefully some subjects next semester.” Fitz nodded.

Elwin smiled. “Look at you, making friends. Well, kind of.” He paused. “But I think you should talk to your friend about how you feel before deciding to make a new friend. Unless you think the situation calls for something else.”

Fitz swallowed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Harder to execute than it is to say?” Elwin guessed. “Yeah. A lot of things tend to be that way.”

The two glanced at the clock at the back of the room. The needles showed that Fitz had spent a far longer time in the Healing Centre and with Elwin than he’d intended, all the way till lunch. 

“You should probably get going. Wouldn’t want to miss lunch. I wouldn’t.” Elwin said, getting up and dusting his pants. “And don’t worry, I’ll email your teachers that you were here so you won’t be pulled up.”

Fitz felt relief pour through his body. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Elwin nodded. “You can stop by whenever you’d like. As a school counsellor, I have to tell you that you shouldn’t skip class here. As someone who was once in school, I’m telling you to come here whenever you’d like.”

That got a laugh out of Fitz. “I’m sure I'll be back soon. Bye!” He waved goodbye to Elwin and exited through the back door of the office; he wasn’t ashamed of going to the school counsellors but rumours would spread regardless. When he made his way outside the cafe, he found Stina sitting there and in deep conversation with Maruca and Jensi.

“Fitz! Where were you?” Stina called him down. Fitz tensed.

“I had to go to the nurse,” Fitz answered. Not totally a lie. 

“Oh, did you hear about the new nurse?” Stina said, glancing at the rest of the friend group. “He’s, like, deaf or something.”

Fitz felt unease build in his shoulders. “Yeah, he is. I met him. He’s super nice.” 

“Yeah, but how are we meant to understand him and stuff?” Stina asked, annoyance in her features. “And how is he meant to understand us? I don’t know any Australian sign language.”

“Elwin, the school counsellor, is usually there with him,” Fitz replied curtly. “To translate. And he can lipread.”

Stina’s nose crinkled. “Yeah. I guess.”

Fitz drummed his fingers against his side, looking back behind him. “I think I’m going to go to the library. Got some work to do.”

“Physics?” Stina guessed with a little chuckle. Fitz plastered a strained smile on his face.

“Among other things.” He said, and turned around to walk away, keeping his head down and away from Stina as he did so.

Upon entering the library, he was instantly calmed by the quiet it offered. A handful of students with headphones typed away at their laptops, not even glancing up at Fitz as he walked in. He found a seat by himself in the corner and popped his own headphones on. He was about to pull out his physics questions when a better idea struck him. He pulled out his laptop instead, went straight to YouTube and typed basic Auslan signs into the search bar. Stina was concerned no one would understand Nurse Hamish? Well, Fitz would be the first to try.

Chapter Text

“Auslan? Is that your new obsession?” Biana blinked, when Fitz told her his plan.

“I’m learning a language. How is that an obsession?” 

“Uh, the same way you watching How To Train Your Dragon once turned into your current fixation.” Biana smirked. 

“That’s—” Fitz tried to come up with a snappy comeback, but all he could do was let his mouth hang agape. “That’s different.”

“Says the nerd.”

“You can take the How To Train Your Dragon out of the dude, but you can’t take the dude out of the How To Train Your Dragon . Or something like that.” Fitz placed an arm on his chest and tilted his head back dreamily, totally not thinking of Astrid. Totally.

“Whatever,” Biana rolled her eyes. “I’m going to do literally anything else.” She turned and walked to her room, leaving Fitz by himself. He shook his head.

“Hey, Fitz,” Alvar said, peeping his head out of his room and walking toward Fitz. “I’m bored and you look bored too. Wanna go out?”

“Where would we go?” Fitz asked.

“I dunno. Anywhere fun. Target sound good? There’s that pancake place nearby I've been dying to try.” Alvar said.

“Sounds fun, I’m in.” Fitz jumped up and ran to his room to change. When he came out—in a dark teal hoodie and with his curly black hair styled—his mother stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey, where are you going?” Della asked, hands on her hips.

“Fitz and I are going to stop at Target. Then pancakes.” Alvar answered, not even looking as he pulled out his keys. 

“Wait, hold on,” Della said, pausing as she considered what Alvar said. “How are you travelling?”

“Walking. It’s not that far.” 

“And pancakes? We’re having dinner at home.”

“Fine, then. No pancakes.”

“And the two of you have to study…” Della started, but she never finished the thought. For a moment, she was in a trance, then she went wide eyed and cleared her throat. “Yeah, but, do what you want. You have freedom of choice in this family. Just be home soon.”

Alvar nodded slowly. “Thanks. Come on, let’s go.”

Fitz followed him out of the house and onto the street. Alvar began mindless conversation.

“I’m so done with school. Literally. I have less than a year to go and I’m so ready to be done.” Alvar ran his hands through his hair. “After school, life begins, you know?”

“What about uni?”

“Uni?” Alvar blinked for a moment before answering. “Oh. Uni. Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Are you kidding?” Fitz said, turning to face him. “Mum and dad would kill you. I mean, they’d say they don’t care but then they totally would. You know how it is.”

Alvar bit his lip. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. But still, I don’t want to base my whole life on what mum and dad want. It’s mine to live, right?”

Fitz slumped his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. But, how on earth would you tell mum and dad? I don’t think they’d react well. They would make it so much harder for you.” Fitz hoped the sympathy in his tone was apparent.

“Would you support me?” Alvar said quietly. There was something in his eyes, in his tone, some sort of plea. 

“I guess? I would still have to pretend to support mum and dad, so they don’t come after me. But yeah, I wouldn’t hate you for not going to uni.”

There was something in Alvar’s eyes. Similar to doubt but there was something else behind his stare, and Fitz didn’t understand what. Alvar sighed. “Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Fitz said. “I think we’re nearly there by the way. See, look? There it is.”

Fitz pointed to the bright red Target symbol that seemed to glow off the side of the building. The building itself was massive, and easily could’ve been three or even four stores of its own. Such is the nature of Target, Biana had once said. Alvar walked in, wrapping his hands around himself as the air conditioning blasted him.

Right as Fitz was about to head toward books, he spotted a certain curly brown haired and blue eyed figure out of the corner of his eye. Stina. Shit . He ducked behind a shelf and hoped she wouldn't see him. As luck would have it, she walked right up to Fitz.

“Hey, I didn’t see you much today,” Stina said, grabbing a book and inspecting it. Fitz turned a bit red, and he decided to pretend to look for a book himself. 

“Oh, yeah, I guess not,” Fitz picked up a book. The Sunbearer Trials. Flipping to the blurb, he found it interesting. He would have to check it out later. “I was busy doing physics stuff.”

“I saw you in the library, by the way,” Stina said. “I was going to say hi, but you looked kind of… preoccupied?”

Fitz gulped, waiting for her to continue.

“You were, like, flailing your hands around while looking at something on your laptop.” Stina said. “I was worried you were in the middle of something. I gotta know, dude, what were you doing?”

Fitz stood up. “I was learning some Auslan.”

“Auslan?” Stina’s nose crinkled. “Australian sign language? Why ?”

“Well, you said that no one would be able to understand Nurse Hamish. I thought I could at least try.”

Stina had this smile on her face but it was kind of cruel, like she was making fun of Fitz without any words. “Um, okay then. I didn’t think you’d actually go and learn a new language or something.”

Fitz shrugged. “It’s just some basic phrases. Pretty simple, actually. We could learn it together.”

“I’m very much good,” Stina said, putting down the book. “You did say that school counsellor Elwin would be there too, right? To translate?”

“Yeah, I did. I just thought it would be kind to try and learn some phrases. So I can communicate at least a little. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Yeah, it really isn’t,” Stina smiled lightly. “I mean, I could never , but I applaud you for the effort.”

Fitz bit his lip, feeling the unease in the air between them. 

“What book is that?” She leaned over to see the book. “Oh, never heard of that one.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m going to get it,” Fitz said, once-overing the book. “It seems like the thing I would like. Queer romance. Fantasy. What more could you want?”

“I completely agree,” Stina laughed. “Anyways, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” She waved goodbye to Fitz, who offered her a polite smile. 

“You done?” Alvar said. “Is that what you’re getting?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said.

“Ready to go home?”

Chapter Text

When Fitz went to school that day, he noticed himself ducking away from Stina. Usually, he ducked himself away from bigots and bullies, and he hated to associate Stina with either of those things.

But how could he not? Stina wasn’t actually an audist, right? She was just a little clueless sometimes, and managed to say the wrong thing by accident. Stina was a good person, enough so that she’d helped Fitz through turmoil and pressures that felt too scary for him to even say. Even suggesting that Stina could be an audist was just wrong. Besides, Stina wasn’t even queerphobic or anything. She was the biggest ally. How could she possibly be an audist?

Fitz decided that this was, completely-coincidently-and-not-because-he-was- not -questioning-his opinion-of-Stina, the perfect time to hang out with Keefe during the morning. He walked up to Keefe, even going as far as to wave at him and start a conversation.

“Hey,” Fitz said, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. “How was your day yesterday?”

Keefe seemed a little caught off guard, but he managed to give him an answer. “Pretty normal. I ate dinner, did some homework then went to bed. And you?”

“Oh, well, I was doing some piano for my music assignment—a song that I’m pretending to be bad at so I can fake improvement without actually trying—” Oh, God, does he think I just asked about his day to talk about mine? Am I talking too much? Is this boring? “—And then my brother and I went to Target and I got this book and I also saw my friend.” Fitz said. That last phrase was a bit quieter than the rest. 

“That’s so cool! What book did you get?” Keefe asked, a small smile on his face.

“It’s called The Sunbearer Trials. I don’t know much about it but I think it’s about this guy who finds himself in a bunch of trials and has to get through them, and he’s at a disadvantage because he’s not a Gold.” Fitz said, proud that he remembered so much of the plot. He blurted out. “It’s also a romance.”

“Ooh, what’s the romance?” Keefe asked. He seemed actually interested, which made Fitz smile.

“I think it’s between the main character and his rival. Teo and Aurelio, I think?”

Keefe paused. “Two guys?”

Please don’t be a bigot, please don’t be a bigot . “Yeah.”

“I might read it later,” Keefe smiled. He leaned closer as he whispered. “There’s nothing I love more than some queer romance.

Wait, he’s not homophobic? “Yeah, I could lend it to you after I’m done. Or you could see if the library has it.”

“Sounds fun!” Keefe flashed Fitz a charming smile. “Wanna head to form? I think we have a single Drama after.”

Fitz nodded, following Keefe into the form room. When Fitz opened up his laptop, his YouTube video of basic Auslan signs began playing. He immediately slammed his laptop shut but Keefe already saw it.

“You know Auslan?” Keefe asked, turning his head up at Fitz.

Fitz turned a bit red, remembering Stina’s earlier reaction. “Yeah. I thought because since the new Nurse is deaf—and is really awesome too—I would learn some basic signs so I could communicate. He does have school counselor Elwin there to translate but you know, I thought I’d learn some.”

That’s…” Keefe started. Please don’t think I’m lame . “Really, really awesome of you.” Keefe smiled warmly. “You know, I happen to know a few signs in Auslan too. Maybe we could learn more together?”

Fitz had to physically stop himself from grinning like a maniac. Was this the beginning of a brand new fulfilling friendship? It felt as though Keefe was extending Fitz a hand, and through exchanged glances, asking him for a dance. “I’d love that.”

When form was done, the two walked to Drama, chatting along the way. The conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated by small laughs and the occasional snappy remark. Fitz was surprised to find out how bold Keefe could be.

“I would obviously be the better prince.” Fitz said between fits of giggling.

“Uh, have you seen me? I am the embodiment of prince .” Keefe gestured to himself with a wild smirk on his face, before devolving into laughter.

When the two arrived at Drama, it seemed as though everyone’s spirits were higher than they normally were. Excited chatter filled the space, paired with the occasional demonic laughter. Even the far-too-cool for life popular people seemed to buzz with energy.

Mr Conley shushed the class. “Okay, the first thing we’re going to do is form groups of four or five. Then I’m going to hand you a script and I want you to pick a part from it that you like, and you’ll have to perform the scene in front of the class. Today we’re doing Laura Reigner .”

As Mr Conley passed out the scripts, Fitz glanced at Keefe. They nodded at each other, scooting closer to the other as others searched for friends to group with. Marella came through the doors, late and red in the face.

“Sorry, I was late to school,” She panted. “Family stuff.”

Mr Conley didn’t seem to mind as she took a seat next to Keefe. “Are we doing a play? Which one?”

“ Laura Reigner ,” Keefe answered.

“Ah. Not my first choice, or my second. Preferably not even my last.” Marella said.

“Agreed.” Keefe said. “We should probably go in groups of five—” He looked around. “Shit, I think everyone’s already in groups.”

Sure enough, everyone seemed to be already fitting in with their groups, discussing roles. When Mr Conley walked by, he noticed the three sitting cluelessly.

“You three can work in a group together.” Mr Conley said. 

“Great, so what scene are we doing?” Marella rubbed her hands.

“I don’t know. It's your choice.” Fitz said, and Keefe nodded in agreement beside him.

The three practiced a small scene from the play, and executed it perfectly in front of the class—being grouped in with other theatre kids had its perks—and when they all separated for the next lesson, Fitz didn’t feel empty at all. He felt the kind of fullness that could keep him coming back for more, and it left him smiling all the way to the Music building.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Fitz, we’re going to be late!” Della called out, applying a layer of brown lipstick. 

“I’m coming!” He called, throwing on a plain shirt and jeans before running out to the car. Biana tapped her foot impatiently.

“Hurry up, Fitz!” She yelled. She was clutching her stomach with one hand and a pack of Ibuprofen in the other. 

For the last several months, Biana had complained of stomach aches around her abdomen, back and sides. Della and Alden had insisted it was just period pain but Biana insisted otherwise. Fitz was slightly more inclined to believe Biana, but he would believe whoever got him out of joining his parents and siblings on a doctor’s appointment.

The entire way in the car, Biana shifted restlessly, groaning as she pressed against her stomach to try and relieve the pain. If this was period pain, he was glad to not have it. Upon arriving at the hospital, Biana was the first person to jump out of the car, followed by Alden, Della, Alvar and finally, Fitz. Fitz sighed. He was sure that he could’ve stayed home for this trip, but his parents had insisted on him coming, saying that this was the perfect opportunity to do a family bonding event, which Fitz found a lot weird and a little fucked up.

A kind doctor with braids and a bright smile greeted them when they entered the room. “Hi, I’m Dr Livvy, and I’ll be your doctor. What seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh, keep having this stomach pain—on and off my periods—around my abdomen, back, sides,” Biana rubbed her arms nervously. “Also I haven’t been as hungry, if that’s anything. Plus, I’ve been feeling quite faint lately and I keep throwing up every so often.”

Dr Livvy narrowed her gaze, going through the initial normal checkups before frowning. “Well, I can’t seem to find anything wrong with you. You know, it’s perfectly normal to get some cramping outside of your periods.”

“This isn’t that,” Biana insisted. “What about the nausea and fainting? That can’t be normal, even for a bad period.”

Dr Livvy sighed, placing both her hands on her hips. “Look, I understand that your periods might be painful, but you have to understand—”

“This isn’t a period,” Biana said frustratedly. “Please, I know this is something else. Just help me out here. Please?”

Dr Livvy looked up at Fitz’s parents, hoping they’d back her up. Della and Alden sighed tiredly. 

“Maybe run a few tests?” Della smiled pleadingly. “Just to be safe.”

Dr Livvy was clearly annoyed but she plastered a sugar-sweet smile on her face. “No problem. I’ll run some blood tests and you’ll go home today feeling as healthy as ever!”

Dr Livvy pulled out a needle and some gloves, instructing Biana to hold her arm as she positioned the needle and poked it into Biana’s skin. Biana tried to hide it, but there was a pretty obvious flinch as Dr Livvy’s needle pierced her skin. When Dr Livvy got the sample she needed, she smiled.

“I’m going to run some tests. I’ll be back soon.” She walked out of the room, poorly disguising the annoyance on her face. Biana shrunk in her chair.

“It’s going to be okay,” Della said, resting an arm on her daughter’s shoulder. “The doctors are here to help. They’ll give you some medication and you’ll feel better instantly.”

After around an hour, Dr Livvy returned, looking like she’d seen a ghost. Still, she put on a smile as she spoke. “I’d like to run one more test, just to confirm that you’re okay. I should warn you, though, it can be a little invasive.”

“Okay, yes,” Della nodded, looking at Alden. “What test is it?”

Dr Livvy cleared her throat. “A pancreatic biopsy.”

Fitz looked up, suddenly paying attention. That was no normal, routine test that doctors ran just to confirm things were okay. Della was immediately alert, her roots as a doctor showing.

“A biopsy?” she repeated. “That can’t possibly be routine. Is there a specific result you’re looking to confirm?”

Dr Livvy bit her lip. “We’re just covering all our bases. Now, please follow me.”

The six of them stalked down the hospital hallways, ducking out of the way of busy doctors with pagers on them who were sprinting down the halls like this was a race. Biana seemed to turn completely pale in the face, biting her lip so hard it looked like she was going to draw blood.

“Is it painful?” She asked in a small voice.

Dr Livvy offered a strained smile. “We’ll have you under some anesthetics to ease the discomfort.”

Fitz locked eyes with Alvar, who was witnessing the event through the same expression Dr Livvy wore. He offered a tightlipped smile that looked more like a frown, which was no comfort to Fitz whatsoever.

When the Vackers’ reached the procedure room, they were introduced to a tall man with gelled hair and stony blue eyes.

“I’m Dr Leto, the gastroenterologist,” he shook Alden’s hand. “First thing, we’ll have you lie down on the table—”

“Actually, Dr Leto, Miss Biana Vacker is our patient today,” Dr Livvy interrupted, a haunted look on her face.

“Who is—” Dr Leto started with a smile, which dropped the moment Dr Livvy pointed at Biana. “Oh, hello.”

Dr Livvy glared daggers the whole time Dr Leto explained that they were going to perform the endoscopic ultrasound technique for the pancreatic biopsy. Fitz’s short attention span kept him zooming out of the conversation but he always landed right back on the thought: what’s wrong with Biana?

Alden, Alvar and Fitz were ushered out of the procedure room by Dr Livvy, leaving Della and Biana alone with the doctors. Alden insisted they sit in the waiting room as the procedure took place because his legs were getting tired, but Fitz could tell that the tiredness came from his anticipation and worry for his daughter. Alvar turned on his phone and scrolled through Instagram at much past the normal scroll-rate, which was the clearest indicator to Fitz that Alvar was trying, and failing to tamp down his fear. Fitz, on the other hand, resorted to pacing around the bench, not caring at the weird looks those two old ladies gave him. He had a sinking feeling that Biana was absolutely not okay.

An hour later, the doctors called the three in. They all came to the room in the run to a worried Della and a groggy Biana.

“How’d it go?” Fitz asked hesitantly.

“I feel awful.” Biana groaned, squinting her eyes at the window that allowed in the warm sunlight.

“That means we did our job right,” Dr Livvy said, her poor attempt at a joke lifting Fitz’s spirits just a little. 

“What’s the diagnosis?” Della asked, and Fitz too had noticed Dr Livvy’s reluctance.

Dr Livvy bit her lip. It was an agonising moment before she spoke. “Your daughter has pancreatic cancer. Stage three.”

Fitz discovered death right there, in that hospital room.

Dr Livvy continued speaking but he was sure there was an earthquake in the room, in an almost fictional sense. The room was spinning, the world was off its axis and Fitz was grasping at something, anything to keep himself from falling into the mess. But what was there to hold onto? Biana’s hand seemed too cruel. Not when he knew how they would soon go cold.

Vaguely, he’d heard the terms malignant and I’m sorry thrown into the jargon that the doctor was native in, but the words jostled around his brain like fragments of a mirror. What the fuck is happening? What the absolute fuck?

Fitz turned to Biana. Her eyes were glass.

“I was going to get you something from the cafe but I figured that you wouldn’t want that after a procedure,” Fitz explained hollowly, pulling out a keychain. “Got this at the gift shop instead.”

Biana picked up the keychain, expression crumbling. “They only give these to people who are dying.”

Fitz didn’t know quite what to say to that. He was an advocate for the truth, hand on his chest, but a lie, comforting and cloyingly sweet, would’ve been a godsend. He never got the chance to reply; his words caught in his throat and his mind was somewhere far, far away from the sharpness of it all.

Chapter Text

Fitz Vacker wasn’t known for his claustrophobia, but if the air in the car ride back home was any more still, he might’ve jumped out the window.

Fitz was watching—he tended to do this a lot, especially when tears were on the horizon. The action received him a discourteous look from his mother, who immediately turned away and proceeded to stare out the window, as if that was any shield. No one told him what to do, of course, because that would be awkward, wouldn’t it? But, oh, what he’d give for an instruction manual right about now.

Biana’s legs brushed against his; she was in the middle seat in the back, thanks to being the youngest. Fitz tried his best to look away, he really did, but curiosity was a bitch and he turned to stare at Biana too and—fuck. She was more mature than him.

She had her phone in her hand—glittery pink phone case and all—and had managed to slather a fresh coat of lip gloss, somewhere in what was likely the most confronting hour of her life. She’d been trembling on the walk to the car too, so subtly that she almost had them all fooled. Almost.

“What do you say we have pizza for dinner today?” Alden asked, and if the guilt wasn’t clear in the offer, it was in his tone. “Pepperoni or cheese, Biana? Both are classics.”

Biana looked like she wanted to sink into the car seat right then, but she replied, “Pepperoni, it’s the only right choice.”

Alden laughed, then the noise faded. He cleared his throat. “Correct answer. Pepperoni it is.”

The car conversation devolved into that, with Alden or Della interrupting the heavy silence with some half-assed joke or remark that was directed to Biana solely, and Biana, uncomfortable as ever, replying in a similar tone. Fitz’s shoulders were tense the whole car ride, and suspected Alvar’s was too, though that was most likely from hunching over his phone the whole time.

Fitz fled from the car like a crime scene the moment it stopped. Vaguely, he heard his father call out, a sharp scolding to get him to slow down, but Fitz ran regardless, and he didn’t stop until he was in his room with the door shut.

He didn’t bother with the bed; no amount of class could stop his knees from crashing into the floor and staying put there like a weathered statue. He’d hoped for tears, for anger, for anything , but he was as impassive as the wall opposite him, hairline cracks and all. Were those cracks always there? Huh. What had taken him so long to notice?

And then came the cacophony.

He let out a guttural cry, not too loud but he heard it reverberating in his bones and he wondered if the sound was ingrained in there now. White knuckled and pale, he managed to drag himself to his bed and curl up into a ball, attempting to push his curls away from his neck—the sensation was hell —and succeeding only in streaking his face in white scratch marks.

Heavy breathing tired his lungs quickly, but he was damn well going to lie there for an eternity if it meant he didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to articulate any of his feelings well. He wrapped his hands around his pillow and squeezed it hard—hard enough for it to hurt a human.

This isn’t about you , Fitz tried to reason with himself, and the anxious voice that once branded itself as a friend came with daggers. Get yourself together and get the fuck out of your room. 

Fitz hated the truth in the sentiment. 

Fitz stood up, vision hazy but functioning, and commanded his legs to take him to the living room. Guilty, he found himself hungry for the pizza. Shallow, shallow, shallow, the anxious thoughts scolded. 

It was when he was in the archway of his home that he heard voices. Whispery but their tone was sharp. Fitz ducked away, peeking his head out ever so slightly. There in the living room was his mother, head in hands and his father, standing straight.

“Della, I never planned for this and I—oh god.” Alden whispered, and his voice came out lilting. “I always swore that I’d be prepared for anything fatherhood related that came my way, that I would learn every way to deal with parenthood in a kind and gentle manner and now? It’s all coming apart.”

“This would tear any reasonable person apart,” Della whispered. Her gaze was fixed and blank. Fitz wondered if his reaction tendencies came from her. “You’re doing a good job.”

“I don’t even know what that looks like anymore,” Alden buried his head in hands. “No parenting book prepares you for this. I read so many of them, Della.”

“I know,” Della said, and she looked so tired. Fitz wasn’t surprised—dealing with her husband’s grief and her own, she was stretched thin. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We both did.”

“And I have to tell Orem, and Luzia and—fuck.” Alden’s voice was hoarse. “I can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.”

“We don’t have to tell them anything,” Della pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We haven’t spoken to them in years —and for good reason. For all they know, we’re just a family of five somewhere in the area. They don’t have to know anything, my love.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” Alden whispered, finally looking up at her. “That she’ll make it?”

Della paused before she spoke, eyebrows arching and lips pressing into a thin line. “The doctors were clear about the chances.”

“Miracles are possible,” Alden insisted. “Our daughter is a miracle. Us, of all people should know that.”

Della reflexively touched her stomach, not replying to his statement.

The two seemed to fall into a weighted silence after that. Fitz had given up on the pizza that was sitting there oh-so temptingly on the dining table. He’d grab a bite at midnight, probably, when the rest of them were asleep or tossing in their bedsheets. He didn’t mind, he liked the night hours. At least, he liked the silence it offered him. 

Chapter Text

Fitz did a decent job of pretending his whole world wasn’t falling apart at school the next day.

A valiant effort was made in trying to stay home (“Biana got diagnosed with cancer yesterday. I can’t possibly go to school—I just can’t.” he had said), but his parents were adamant in their choice in sending him to school (“Miracles are possible.” his father had whispered, with his mother wrapping an arm around him as he spoke). He put on a brave smile as the day unfolded.

“What do you have?” Stina asked him. “Core? Elective?”

“Maths,” Fitz said, looking away.

Stina blinked, waving an arm in front of his face. “You look completely exhausted dude. Let me guess, you were on YouTube all night?”

“Yeah, just tired.” Fitz replied, which wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a full lie either. To him, it seemed, the world was just floating away. He was somewhere above—above the strong grasp of reality—and observing the world through its mundane routines. 

Lady Alexine had simple instructions: do the exercises, ask for help if needed. It was easy for Fitz to follow. Clear structure, clear results. And something clear in its process and outcome was exactly what Fitz needed to take his mind off… he didn’t know how to describe it in a way that wouldn’t end in tears.

“Woah, dude, how are you only on question two?” Stina chuckled, and Fitz hoped he was imagining the slight sneer in her tone. “It’s been like, half an hour. You need help with this too? It’s so simple.”

“No, I’m just worn out,” Fitz said numbly. It was true. It had been most of the first lesson and the only thing Fitz did a good job at was zoning out; when did the walls have such intricate patterns hidden in the poor paint job? Guilt overcame him, so he spent the rest of the lesson completing the exercise, albeit, at a slower rate than he would’ve liked to. Stina teased him about this.

It was recess soon enough, and Lady Alexine had yelled on top of the rabid class to finish their day’s quota as they ran out of the classroom (if there was anything that Fitz deemed impossible, it would have to be getting middle school students to do homework, but he considered it a good effort). Fitz was the opposite, sitting cross legged on his chair and counting the hairline cracks on the wall.

“You are so distracted,” Stina chuckled. “Hey, if it weren’t for the haunted look in your eyes, I’d consider it a crush. Hm, wait, now that I think about it, a haunted look in one’s eyes is the very first symptom of realising a crush—especially on someone you shouldn’t be crushing on. So, spill it. Who’s the lucky girl, guy, or non binary person?”

“Huh?” Fitz had zoned out again and only heard the last couple words. “No one. I’m single and I think that’s for the best.”

“Alright, but if there is someone… they better watch out, huh?” Stina said it with a smile but the words left a bad taste on Fitz’s tongue. “Anywho, I’ve got a committee meeting today, and so does Jensi and Maruca. You’re on your own today.”

“Aw, damn,” Fitz said, and he found himself not meaning it. “I’ll catch you later.”

Stina nodded, taking off in the opposite direction. Fitz watched her for a second, with his head tilted, before gathering his bearings and walking over to his usual spot. 

Fitz had perfected the art of being invisible—when with friends, he’d laugh along to their likely unfunny jokes, pretending he’d heard it. When alone, he’d pull out his laptop, bright red headphones and slump against a chair. This, paired with the signature knit of his eyebrows as he stared at a random Word document, gave most others the illusion of business, which roughly translated to not a loser , in middle-school-speak.

“Hey,” a voice called out—a voice he recognised. Fitz looked up at the owner of the voice and it was none other than Keefe Sencen. “Tam, Linh and Marella are all at a committee meeting. Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all,” Fitz offered the seat beside him. Keefe took it, pulling out his own laptop. 

Fitz pretended to read his essay about that one book they were currently reading—To Kill a Mockingbird—for a few minutes before Keefe interjected.

“Are you okay?” Keefe asked. Three words, three syllables, one sentiment. But Fitz feared that if he let the pain outside the hospital room it might’ve spread to every corner of his life. He’d liked to believe it hadn’t already. How convenient would it be, for him to be able to compartmentalise the hurt?

“No,” Fitz looked at his hands to find them clenched, ready to hurt, ready to be hurt. “I’m not, I—something happened.”

Keefe shifted so he was facing the brunette. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fitz braced himself for the onslaught of anxious thoughts that would serve as more of a knife than a shield, but it didn’t come. And he worried that maybe, just maybe , his walls were coming down.

“My sister got diagnosed with cancer. Stage three.” Fitz said plainly. He watched Keefe’s eyes with instinctive judgement, waiting for a half-hearted spiel of she’s not gone yet . But the apprehension faded when he saw the sincerity that flickered in Keefe’s ice blue eyes.

It was a second before he responded, but when he did he said: “I’m so sorry, Fitz. Holy shit, I’m so sorry, I—I can’t even find the words.” he was quiet again. “Could you—do you wanna talk about her?”

Fitz felt a laugh catch in his throat. “She’s kind. She’s funny, sometimes. She’s into fashion, especially anything that sparkles. She loves history and she…” Fitz’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember any facts about Biana. She likes Girl in Red? She’s into true crime? She has a scar from rollerblading into bushes when she was a kid? 

Fitz clenched his fists as a feeble attempt to combat the tears pricking his eyes. “I don’t know, okay? She’s my sister, and she’s nice, funny and pretty but does it matter? She’s dying . And my parents keep denying it but I’ve researched the odds—five percent. She has a five percent chance of surviving. I fucking hate hope, and everyone’s trying to shove it down my goddamn throat.”

Fitz didn’t notice how loud he was until he’d finished speaking. Thankfully, there was no one else in the area except Keefe, whose eyes seemed glassier than last time. Fuck . What in the world possessed him to be so loud and rude to Keefe Sencen, who hadn’t even looked at him wrong? He buried his head in his open palms, a valiant attempt at avoiding pulling out his hair.

Keefe tentatively placed an arm on his shoulder, and it made Fitz straighten up to face him. His face was streaked with tears, his hair was in fifty directions and—God, he was a mess wasn’t he? And up against the fucking supermodel Keefe Sencen was, inadequacy set into his heart in the form of jealousy.

“That was a bad question,” Keefe’s eyes flickered away from Fitz. “I’m kind of awkward if you hadn’t noticed already. I might have The Hair and the face of all time, but you know, we can’t win at everything in life.”

Fitz very poorly veiled his what the fuck expression.

Keefe cleared his throat. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m such an idiot, I—” Keefe inhaled sharply. “Would you like a hug?”

Fitz sniffled. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

It was Fitz who crashed into Keefe’s open arms, sinking into something deeper than the water underneath the bridge near his house. Keefe was warm and comforting and so nice , and it translated perfectly when the blond hugged himIt was a while until Fitz found control of himself again, and he used it to weakly wrap his arms around Keefe’s waist. The blanket of Keefe’s presence smelt acidic, but not in an unpleasant way—more like citrus, cutting through the air’s usual humidity. Fitz almost caught himself tensing, despite the softness of the moment. A stray thought crossed his mind: why the fuck am I confiding in Keefe Sencen? And why is it so easy?

Fitz didn’t register how long their hug was, only that recess was over by the time they let go. Self consciously, he ran his hands through his hair and put on a small smile. “Uh, thanks for…” he gestured at the space between them, hoping Keefe understood. “I’m sorry things got kind of…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keefe mirrored his expression, gripping Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz had to force himself to avert his eyes from the hand that occupied his shoulder, and to ignore how loud his heart was thumping because of it. “I’m here for you, dude.” Keefe said. And, for better or for worse, Fitz believed it.

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Keefe didn’t mention or hint at the two’s earlier conversation during Drama. The blond was just as teasing, joking and obnoxious (endearingly, Fitz had to admit) as he normally was, and his high energy carried its way into the play they were practicing this lesson: The Real Alice in Wonderland .

“We should do a scene with very few characters,” Marella flipped through the script, squinting at the words. “Because there’s only three of us.”

“Makes sense,” Fitz nodded, doing the same. He was also hoping that such a scene would have the Mad Hatter, who’s kookiness and elaborate costume made him Fitz’s favourite character by a mile. “Got it. Page five.”

Keefe and Marella flipped to page five, and read through it with speed. Marella smiled at the end of it. “Great. Uh, I’m assuming that I’ll be one of the Alices?”

“Sounds good to me,” Fitz said. “And if it’s okay, I’ll be the Mad Hatter?”

“Anything that allows me to be a pretty princess,” Keefe fluttered his eyelashes and blew kisses at Fitz. Fitz smiled, his cheeks turning red.

The three practiced the scene and damn were the other two good. Marella had a knack for being mean—Fitz knew it was because of her theatrical talents and not because of her nature—and Keefe? Keefe was exactly as he’d described: a pretty princess.

“Aw come on, we don’t get costumes?” Keefe pouted, eyeing Mr Conley. “Shame. I would look fabulous in a blue dress.”

“Only if it’s ice blue,” Fitz teased.

“With puffy sleeves and a crinoline, thank you very much,” Keefe placed his hands on his hips and smirked, eliciting a laugh from Fitz. Was Keefe always this funny?

When it came time for the three to perform, Fitz had to admit, his eyes were glued to Keefe’s the whole time. He did so subtly, of course, because there was no greater performer than one with the skill to mask, but he managed a few wayward glances at Keefe, and he swore he caught Keefe doing the same to him a few times. 

“This is an unbirthday party,” Fitz as the Mad Hatter said, in the most exaggerated voice he’d ever done.

“An un birthday party?” Keefe—Nice Alice—was light and airy, to the point of comedy. “Whatever is that?”

“Why, it’s where we celebrate your unbirthday, silly girl,” Fitz chuckled, and he wasn’t sure if the sound was in character or just a response to Keefe’s theatrics. 

The lesson was over too soon and it ended with Marella, Keefe and Fitz devolving into several fits of laughter, with Keefe smiling so wide and so genuinely, Fitz wanted to bottle it and keep it all to himself. He chose not to voice this.

“Finally at the end of the day,” Marella stepped out of the Foxfire theatre, stretching in the afternoon sun. “I have too much to do. By which I mean, I have too much time to waste.”

“Yeah I can’t wait to go…” Fitz paused, suddenly remembering everything, by which he meant, everything that was going on at home. “...home.”

Marella glanced at Fitz sideways, but didn’t say anything. Fitz’s cheeks burned. Pull it together . He couldn’t afford to tell people about what was going on. There wasn’t enough time in the day for him to properly unpack it, and nor were there enough words in the dictionary to describe the feeling. 

“ Tell me about it,” Keefe slung his arm around Fitz’s shoulder. “I’ve got homework, but then, I’ve also got YouTube, and we all know what will win.”

There was another minute of conversation but Fitz had fully zoned out. The only thing that Fitz was aware of was Keefe’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, and the fluttery feelings in his chest that seemed to accompany it. He willed himself to calm down. It was just a gentle touch, a friendly touch, and he had no business reading into, or even acknowledging. So what if it brought on a rush of dopamine, and a sped up heart rate? So did hypothyroidism.

Unfortunately, such a state of flurried emotions caused him to be dazed out the entire walk from their lockers to the bus. Which, he had to ask, when did they do that? At what point did they reach that level of friendship? Weren’t there steps to this, where he could check off what stage of friend he was at? When did he move up? And was it normal for one’s heart to speed up in the friend-making process? 

All of these, he never got an answer to, because he’d only zoned back in by the time he was waving goodbye to Keefe from his bus stop, a bewildered and slightly confused smile and all. 

He’d tried not to notice the silence in the walk from the bus stop to his home, which was normally filled with chatter from Biana or some half-hearted debate the two had over stupid shit. It was as if she was already dead, which was stupid since she was at home right now, probably just scrolling on her phone, probably with the intent to tease Fitz for having to go to school. There wasn’t a reason to mourn, Fitz tried to convince himself.

The first thing Fitz did after coming home was set his bag down in his room and then flop onto his bed. His aching, tensed muscles seemed to relax, as if in thanks for being let out of the hunch-backed prison. He’d only let them rejoice for a few minutes, unfortunately, because he decided that now was a good time for some piano practice.

The piece was beautiful, the recording of his improvement process was bad, just as it should be and for a moment, Fitz lost touch of reality. It was just his fingers gliding across the keys, and his body suspended above the word in a state that could only be described as divine.

“Play it softer!” Alden called out from the kitchen. “I’m busy, now Fitz, at least try and keep it down a little?”

This was an egregious lie, if Fitz had to guess, from the coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, open to TikTok, as well as from the fact that he was playing mezzo-piano at most. Regardless, he called back an apology and continued playing.

“I still can’t focus,” Alden yelled a couple minutes later. “Can you play it any softer?”

“Maybe I—” Fitz started, but another voice whispered to him.

“Don’t,” Alvar said in a low voice, hardly looking up from the sofa. “He’s not looking for you to play softer, he wants you to stop. He’s just trying to do it in the nicest way possible. And failing.”

“Right,” Fitz said, only partially understanding. He understood that the diagnosis was hard on all of them, but a selfish part of him wished that he could alleviate the emotional hurt by playing the piano. But it wasn’t a battle worth fighting, nor was there a prize worth winning, so Fitz gently shut the piano and got started on his Maths homework, dead set on finishing what he didn't do in class. It was another, half-successful attempt at ignoring the bigger, much more daunting problem at hand.

Chapter Text

Fitz had one mission in his mind for the school day: Tell Stina.

He even wrote it out in his planner— tell Stina about everything —intentionally avoiding actually naming what he was going to tell her. On the bus ride to school, he stared out the bus window and muttered to himself the speech he planned in his head. Hey Stina, I just wanted to tell you some stuff that’s been going on at home. My sister Biana got diagnosed with cancer. I don’t think she’s going to make it. I really need some support.

A part of him hated how polished and perfect that sounded, how articulate the words were, and how much they diminished the reality of the situation, which was so much messier than the trimmed edges of his speech. But the other part of him didn’t quite know what else to say other than exactly what had happened. He hadn’t a clue how Stina would react to the polished version. A raw, honest speech that ended in tears could be disastrous and he wasn’t willing to take the chance. 

But you did with Keefe , the thought was loud in Fitz’s head, reverberating in his mind. The worst part about the thought was how much truth there was to it. The confusing part was why . Keefe Sencen was hardly his friend, and yet, he found the blond’s presence magnetic, bracing even, so much so that he felt at home in his arms at peace with his secrets shared between the two of them. He hadn’t felt this way when Stina and him became friends, three years ago, when they were wide-eyed Year Sixes. What was it with Keefe? The boy was a mystery in a blue jersey.

His anxious thoughts kept him busy until recess, where he found Stina at their usual spot, laughing with their friends.

“Oh, hey,” Stina said, waving to Maruca as she left for the bathroom. “Dude, are you good? You seem so out of it, from what I hear.”

“Yeah, I—” Fitz’s voice caught in his throat. “I wanted to talk—”

“Everything and everyone has been annoying, lately,” Stina flopped onto a chair. “My mom has been pestering me to actually put effort into English, which is fair but I am not in the mood to care about an essay. I mean, we’re in middle school. Who gives a fuck about middle school? People don’t even make that many movies about it because they know how useless, boring and annoying it is.”

“Yeah, I get where you’re coming from,” Fitz shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anyway I was—”

“On top of it all, I’m on my period,” Stina rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Fitz, I swear to god, the day they invent a machine that can transfer my period pains over to men, you are going to be my first victim.”

Just let me talk , for the love of god . “I don’t doubt it one bit,” Fitz said placatingly. “By the way I—”

“Speaking of which, could you go to the Healing Centre and get me an Ibuprofen? My stomach hurts and I’m not bothered.”

Fitz concealed the exasperated sigh behind his lips. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks!” She called out.

Fitz found this especially annoying because the Healing Centre was on the other end of the school campus. But whatever. It was fine, it was all fine. Except it completely wasn’t because what the fuck , and also why wouldn’t she stop talking about herself for a goddamn minute? It was hardly a minute of conversation and Stina had already managed to get Fitz to run across campus for something she could’ve easily gotten herself. 

But Fitz couldn’t quite blame her. He knew Stina was headstrong from the get go. All her teachers had described her that way. Headstrong. Self-willed. Leader material. He always knew what a friendship with Stina would look like. In any case, it was his fault for thinking that she’d soften in his presence and just stick to politeness, as opposed to her brash and brutal honesty. His fault, surely.

But the rationalisation couldn’t quite tamp down the rising resentment. And as much as he advocated for clear communication, he felt that letting the rancour remain unresolved was the best—no, easier —choice.

He hadn’t even noticed he’d entered the Healing Centre until he was struck by the sight of two men throwing hand signs at each other. Again.

It was Hamish who saw him first and waved at him to let him know. Fitz smiled awkwardly back at him, signing how are you with shaky hands and sincerely hoping that the anxiety wasn’t obvious on his face. Hamish was—his face lit up. Fitz couldn’t quite describe just how his smile seemed brighter than before and how his entire face seemed more awake, energetic, as he sighed back I’m good . Elwin looked at Hamish softly before grinning at Fitz.

“I thought I’d start practicing,” Fitz willed himself to keep eye contact with the two of them. “I’m no expert but I know a few signs.”

Elwin’s grin carved out his cheeks. “That’s pretty much how I started learning Auslan, back in the day. We didn’t have YouTube back then, so I had to sign up for a class. I’m glad learning a language is so much more accessible nowa—Gosh, I feel old.” Elwin laughed. Hamish punched his shoulder and signed in quick succession, so Fitz could only pick up the words us , same and age . Elwin signed back with just as much speed, but Fitz couldn’t catch a word of it.

“I was just wondering if I could have an Ibuprofen?” Fitz cleared his throat, cheeks burning. Elwin and Hamish turned toward him.

“Ah, of course. It’s in the…” Elwin started, then to Hamish who pointed at a cabinet. “Left drawer.”

“Thanks,” Fitz grabbed a tablet and had one foot out the door when Elwin called him.

“Wait!” Elwin’s words made Fitz halt. “I just wanted to mention, it’s really awesome of you to learn Auslan. You’d be surprised how easy it makes it for so many people and how big of a difference it makes and I—yeah. I just wanted to mention.” Elwin had that same awkward smile that Fitz had when he walked through the door. He turned to Hamish, who signed something similar.

“My pleasure,” Fitz nodded, and he signed it too, before waving goodbye and leaving the two. He had to admit, he left feeling so cozy that for a moment, he forgot everything with Biana, and whatever it was that was happening with Stina. He considered faking sick more often, just so he could feel that warmth again.

Chapter Text

The first thing Fitz noticed that day was Keefe Sencen. And no , it wasn’t because of a crush (a crush that he absolutely did not have).

Admittedly, Fitz had learned of his recently acquired habit of staring at Keefe when he was zoning out, which posed a problem because it made him look like a creep who wouldn’t leave the blond alone. It wasn’t his fault; he was hardly conscious during these periods of time. But it did result in an awkward moment of half smiles and smirks when Keefe did catch him. Fitz liked to think that the blush that just so appeared on his cheeks was from the embarrassment and not something else.

It was on one such staring session that Fitz noticed something different. Keefe’s usual smirk was lost and replaced with a sullen frown, and the arch of his eyebrows that usually accented his flirtatious demeanor seemed to reveal something akin to sadness, which was an unusual emotion to see on Keefe’s face. Somehow, he still managed to look good with it, but Fitz couldn’t appreciate Keefe’s beauty (platonically, of course) when he looked so dull.

It was during lunch, when Keefe had left his spot with his friends, that Fitz saw his first opportunity. He stood up from his own table.

“I’m gonna get my drink bottle,” Fitz had interrupted Stina’s probably unfunny joke, and found himself not giving a shit. He didn’t wait for a reply, instead just taking off in Keefe’s direction. He strolled up beside Keefe, surprising the blond.

“Hi,” Fitz managed. Yes, yes, Keefe did look different—not only did he carry eyebags that could’ve carried an army’s belongings, but his eyes, blue and objectively beautiful, were puffy. 

“Oh, hi, Fitz,” Keefe put on a smile, which, on any other person and on any other occasion would’ve meant he was happy, but Keefe just looked muted. “What’s up?”

“Actually,” Fitz slowed his walking pace. “I was going to ask you that. You okay?”

Keefe’s lips pressed in a thin line. “I—not really. I broke up with my girlfriend, Sophie.”

“Oh,” Fitz didn’t quite know what to say. I’m sorry, you deserve better didn’t quite fit the bill here, nor did you’ll find someone better , since he didn’t know a thing about Sophie. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t a single clue that Keefe was—well, had been—dating someone. “I’m sorry. Do you wanna… talk about it?”

Keefe’s eyes flickered, and even in broad daylight, it was as if fireflies were lighting up the night. “Not much to talk about. I called her over the phone last night and broke things off. I spent the rest of the night on TikTok.”

It was a clear attempt at a joke, but the words fell flat. Fitz didn’t for one second believe that Keefe was a poor storyteller, but he recalled chopped up pieces tonelessly, with no distinguishable emotion, and fed to Fitz only what was strictly necessary. “Yeah… you still didn’t really answer the question.”

Keefe dryly chuckled. “I feel like shit, but that’s nothing new. Like, have you seen the state of the world? Feeling shit is the new default.”

Hesitantly, Fitz wrapped his arm around Keefe’s shoulder, which proved challenging because Keefe was, like, seven inches taller than him. “If you did want to talk, I’m here.”

Keefe brought his hand to ruffle Fitz’s hair, chuckling. “Struggling to reach?” Fitz lightly punched his arm, eliciting another laugh out of Keefe. Just when Fitz thought Keefe was going to let go, the blond buried himself, ever so slightly, deeper into Fitz’s neck and quietly whispered, “Thank you.”

Fitz couldn’t wipe the small, triumphant smile that bloomed on his face, nor could he ignore the rate at which his cheeks were reddening, which most would consider suspicious. It didn’t mean anything, Keefe is just a friend and sometimes you get nervous around a new friend, Fitz reasoned, and it made perfect sense in his head, on paper, but a nagging feeling told him that this was different. Thankfully, Fitz was fantastic at ignoring nagging feelings .

“Were you going to get anything?” Fitz asked when the two of them broke apart. “Honestly, I only came up here to talk to you.”

Judging by Keefe's laugh, he (thankfully) took it as a joke. “All I needed was a walk. And that talk, I suppose.”

“Hey! Give me some credit, I worked up a sweat just thinking about bringing anything up,” Fitz elbowed Keefe, who roared in laughter.

“Pretty sure it would actually kill me to be nicer.” Keefe smirked, and it seemed to Fitz that Keefe was back.

When Fitz returned to his friend group, it was Stina bombarding him with questions. “I just saw you walking here with Keefe, and still keep forgetting him and you are friends now. Also, where’s your water bottle?”

“I just decided to use the drinking fountain,” Fitz found himself glancing through the cafe windows at Keefe Sencen, who was deep in animated conversation with Marella, Tam and Linh.

Stina wrinkled her nose. “By choice? I can’t support that decision.”

Fitz cracked a smile. “And here I thought you were progressive.”

“Well, I guess I’m switching teams now,” Stina smirked. “Come on, Fitz, join me in the dark side.”

Fitz snorted. “As a queer person, absolutely not. As a person with basic empathy and cognition, absolutely the fuck not.”

The conversation left him so elated that it followed him into double History, despite Ms Cadence’s coldness. The lesson was better than usual though, with Ms Cadence leaving everyone with a packet of work to do, and instructions to keep chatter to a minimum. During this, she scrolled on her phone, switching from grinning at her phone and glaring at the classroom. 

The happiness even followed him to the bus, where he waved goodbye to Keefe Sencen and chose a seat near but not next to him. They might have been friends now, but was it enough to sit next to him on the bus? And if so, would it be an everyday thing, or a once-in-a-while thing? And how was Fitz supposed to know anyway? He wasn’t the ebay with social cues, but he knew that asking about how to read a situation was a worse situation than any kind he could possibly land him. He might’ve been socially awkward but he managed to be socially inept and anxious all the same.

His plan for watching YouTube when he arrived home was disrupted by Della, who tapped him on the shoulder with a sharp look on her face.

“We need to talk. I’m calling a family meeting.”

Chapter Text

Family meeting.

Fitz gulped. That couldn’t be good. The last time there was a family meeting, it was to let the three of them know that they wouldn’t be seeing grandpa and grandma, or any distant relatives anymore (“Even Aunt Luzia?” Biana had pouted at the time, batting her eyelashes that hid her big teal eyes. “Even Aunt Luzia,” Della had confirmed, glancing sympathetically at Alden). Fitz only managed to nod, getting up from his desk and stumbling to the living room, where he was, of course, the last one to arrive. Stiffly, he sat down on the sofa, and it felt like it was brand new; stiff and uncomfortable and a place that Fitz didn’t think he’d spend much time.

“Fitz, Alvar, we have some updates that your mother, Biana and I have discussed regarding…” Alden’s voice faltered. “Everything.”

Instinctively, Fitz and Alvar glanced at each other, question marks forming in their eyes. Fitz glanced over at Biana, and she looked solemn , like all her childhood, all her whimsy had been stolen from her, and she’d been forced to grow up at thirteen years old.

“We’ve decided to pursue treatment for Biana’s cancer,” Alden’s eyes noticeably didn’t reach Fitz’s or Alvar’s or even Biana’s. He tapped his foot, repeatedly and unrhythmically, and a nagging part of Fitz’s brain wanted to tell him to stop. “First we’ll do a procedure called a Whipple Procedure, which will be done via the open surgery route—the most common, so the doctors will have the most experience in it—and then we’ll go through one round of chemo and see from then.” 

God, how much more robotic could this get?

“Any questions?” Alden wrung his fingers, finally making eye contact directly with Fitz. 

Now that he had the opportunity to speak, Fitz hadn’t any words to say. Not that there wasn’t much to be said—Hell, there might’ve been a whole world on the tip of his tongue—but no words came out of his mouth. Alden sounded so methodical, mechanical when he spoke, it almost fooled Fitz; but they both knew it was just an act, an act like any other but far less convincing and with far more to lose.

“We think it’s what’s best for Biana,” Della chimed in, gripping Alden’s shoulder and glancing at Biana. “And for the family.”

Her eyes searched for an answer in Fitz’s, pleading that he fill the emotionally charged silence. She had something more to her tone—something like grit—but the plastic act didn’t convince Fitz one bit. He’d seen Alden and Della a few nights ago, falling apart in the dim living room light. Her stoic demeanor wasn’t going to fool— fuck . What the hell compelled him to think that ? Della was being brave in her own way—stoic and blank stare and all; who was he to even think about judging her? Who were the ghosts he so desperately kept fighting?

When it was clear that no one was going to say anything, Della let go of her husband’s shoulder. It seemed to snap him back into reality, pulling him from whatever trance he was in. Fitz at least hoped it was a reality without Biana’s untimely, inevitable death on the horizon. He stood up and flashed the small tired smile of a man who’d given his life to have it pulled out from under his feet.

A few minutes later, it was just Alvar and him in the living room, with the older one on scrolling his phone at such a fast rate, there was simply no way he was processing any of the content. Fitz, maintaining eye contact with the floor, asked him, “What do you think?”

Alvar put his phone down and stared at Fitz thoughtfully. “That this—” he gestured at the space between them. “—was bound to happen. You know them; ever since cutting off the rest of our family, they’ve taken every minor misstep as a personal failing on their part, and this ? This is a breeding ground of anxiously made decisions. I don’t know anything about right and wrong in this situation—frankly I doubt it’s so clean cut—but I know mom and dad. And I knew this would happen.”

Again, Fitz didn’t know what to say. When did he get so out of the loop? Alvar seemed to be on top of everything that Fitz was just about processing. A pit in his stomach grew and accompanying it was a nagging voice that he had to do better.

“But honestly, you should ask Biana how she feels. We’re just background in this context, you know?” Alvar shrugged. Alvar might’ve known Alden and Della, but Fitz knew Alvar. He might’ve been good at staying cool under tough situations, but being okay was a much bigger, more difficult thing; Fitz and Alvar both knew the difference like it was second nature.

“Thanks,” Fitz muttered. “That’s—that’s really useful.”

Fitz stood up before Alvar replied, and tiptoed to Biana’s room. Right as he was in front of the door, he paused. It didn’t feel right to go and pester Biana after the most gruelling two weeks of her life. But was it better than leaving her feeling unheard?

He never got to make the choice because Biana opened the door. “I could hear your footsteps. You walk loud.”

Fitz managed a chuckle. “Sneaking around is impossible in this house.”

“Blame the creaky floors, " Biana said, plopping on her bed. “Though, I suppose it’s expected when you buy an old home.”

“Yeah,” Fitz sat down next to her. They fell silent for a few minutes before Biana spoke.

“I know what you’re going to ask me,” Biana was quiet. 

“Well, I was hoping it’d come up organically,” Fitz tried for a small smile but then it faded. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

“No one is,” Biana stared at her wall. “They never prepare you. It’s always, study hard , get a good job , sometimes marry someone respectable . And then everyone goes silent when it goes wrong and it’s completely out of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Fitz whispered. “I didn’t say it before—I was too scared to. But I mean it all the same.”

“It’s not your fault,” Biana said numbly. “I still don’t know what to say to that, by the way. Only you, mom, dad, and Alvar know. And it still feels like too much.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Fitz reminded her. “Sometimes silence is the biggest talker of them all.”

“Is that your attempt at being philosophical?” Biana laughed. 

“Hey, I’m doing Philosophy next semester!” Fitz grinned. “Gotta practice, you know.”

It was a few chuckles, but it felt like a sea of laughter, one that Fitz badly, badly wanted to drown in. Fitz noticed Biana’s eyes, and for the first time since everything, they were shining, teal and proud. If Fitz could bottle the feeling, he would.

After a beat of silence, Fitz spoke. “I just came to ask about the whole treatment plan. Are you… feeling good about it?”

Biana barked a dry laugh. “It’s surgery . Followed by chemo . I’d be surprised if anyone felt good about it.”

“No, I meant—” Fitz tried. “I mean, are you happy with your choice?”

“Do I really have any?”

Biana’s voice dipped lower than Fitz had ever heard it. He reached his hand to squeeze hers.

“ Yes ,” Fitz said, and he did so while maintaining eye contact with her, hoping she could read the steadiness in his words. “Always. I’ll be the first on your side if you ever decide this isn’t the way you want to go. You know that right?”

Biana didn’t answer. In all truth, she didn’t need to; it all hung in the air and it was her choice to voice it or not. She didn’t seem to get a lot of it lately; the least Fitz could do was offer her something within her control. He nodded gravely, taking her silence in its full weight and leaving the room, gently shutting the door behind him.