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Eclipsa squeezes herself into the familiar space between her bed and her bedroom wall. She spends most of her time here. It’s safe and comfortable and she doesn’t have to face anybody in her “family” here.
Not that they’ll be looking for her anyway. Everett’s kids won’t, at least, but Everett themself probably will. They’re nosy like that.
Although they’ll never admit to being nosy, they say they just care about Eclipsa, which she finds hard to believe. Not that she doesn’t want to–she thinks it would be lovely to be cared for by someone–but she just can’t imagine being loved in any way, especially not to the degree that Everett loves their other children.
She reaches a hand up into her hair, a familiar routine she performs daily. Her fingers shift through her curls before they find the one she’s looking for. Carefully, she wraps it around her fingers and rips it out. It makes a satisfying snap, and her scalp aches where the curl used to be. It barely hurts anymore. Now it just fills her with a sick feeling of comfort that quickly fades, leaving her feeling hollow.
Eclipsa gently places the curl under her bed in a pile with its companions, out of sight from everybody but her. Everett doesn’t like when she does this. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.
Almost as if they sensed her thoughts, a familiar set of footsteps sound down the hall and travel towards her bedroom. She has everybody’s footsteps memorised. They tell you more about a person than their appearance. Everett’s are heavy, causing the whole house to shake, yet they carry a certain delicacy to them.
She can assume that it’s them whenever or not she knew their footsteps. They visit Eclipsa the most, with second place going to either Shork, Mars, or Current. Everyone else, Eclipsa can barely remember the name of.
A soft knock comes from the door, but Eclipsa makes no move to stand and greet her guest. After a moment, the door slowly creaks open, and just as expected, it’s Everett that steps inside.
For a moment, Eclipsa wonders if they can even see her. Her hiding spot is out of sight from the doorway, and she’s curled so tightly into herself that not even the top of her head can be seen over the bed.
“Hello Starshine,” they say as they close the door behind them.
So they can see her. It’s the more obvious answer now that she thinks about it. Her room is quite dark and she has a tendency to glow.
But still, she doesn’t respond. The footsteps, now a lot softer due to the carpet in her room, make their way over to her. Once Everett comes into view and the pair make eye contact, they smile.
“Today is laundry day,” they state.
“Every day is laundry day,” Eclipsa replies quietly.
“Yes, I know that, but today is Eclipsa-helps-with-the-laundry day.”
That makes her smile, but it only lasts a moment. She likes to help with the chores. It gives her something to do other than sitting in her room all day and it’s nice to spend time with Everett every once in a while. No longer.
She holds onto the bed and pulls herself up onto her feet. Everett waits, patient as ever, for her to slowly make her way across the unnecessarily large bedroom. Once she stands next to them, they place a warm hand on her back and lead her downstairs to the laundry room.
The room is very big, with walls lined with baskets and a large set of a washing machine and dryer, and despite how often they do laundry, it’s still filled with piles of clothes. Everett has a lot of kids.
Eclipsa can’t tell the difference between all of the clothes. She doesn’t see the rest of Everett’s children enough to recognise the difference in their attire. Except for Current’s abundance of soft, purple sweaters, because they need to be dried in a very specific way to avoid any moisture staying in the fabric.
Laundry is one of her favourite chores. It doesn’t require that much physical effort and has hard-set rules to follow. She likes rules.
First is sorting the piles by color. Warm colors, cool colors, whites, and blacks. Everett and Eclipsa sit down on the floor and sift through all of the fabrics, only exchanging one or two words between each other. It’s calm and familiar. Usually, she’s on edge around Everett, but right now their presence is comforting.
She wishes she could stay here forever.
Once the clothes are all sorted, they get to washing. They always start with whites for reasons Eclipsa does not know. Her dresses are included in that pile, so she uses extra care as they scoop the clothes into the washing machine. She wants to look nice after all. Even if nobody is going to see her.
Eclipsa pours in all of the necessary detergent into the washing machine, and Everett starts it. Now they have to wait until it ends to start the next load.
“Good job,” Everett praises, reaching over to ruffle her hair. Their fingers pause as they run over the bald patches and they frown. They know what she’s been doing. Eclipsa stares at the floor, too ashamed to look them in the eye.
But thankfully, they don’t comment on it. They sigh quietly and smile at Eclipsa.
“Do you want to go on a walk with me?” Everett asks.
Eclipsa’s immediate reaction is to decline, she doesn’t like spending any more time with them than necessary. But it’s not like she’s going to be doing anything else, and today has been surprisingly nice so far. Maybe they’ve been getting better.
“Okay,” she says.
Everett looks surprised at the answer but smiles even wider. “Great. Go get ready.”
Eclipsa’s back in her bedroom before she even realises she even moved to leave the laundry room. Usually she’d freak out over this, but she doesn’t have time now. She runs her fingers through her patchy hair to make it look as normal as possible and slides on her shoes.
Everett waits for her outside the door and smiles again when she steps back out. They’re always either smiling or glaring at her. The former is a lot more enjoyable, yet much more uncommon.
Together, they walk downstairs. The house is weirdly quiet, and none of Everett’s other children are to be seen. Maybe they went on another road trip.
It’s warm and sunny outside with a slight breeze. Ideal walking weather. Flowers are starting to bloom across the grass, and the leaves are returning to the trees. Eclipsa hums softly to herself as she and Everett walk down the sidewalk and wonders where they’re going. She was never told where she was being led and it’s not her place to ask. Hopefully they go somewhere nice.
They walk for a while, never saying anything to each other, until they turn onto an unfamiliar street. There are a lot more people here than where they usually walk, so she unconsciously presses closer to Everett for safety. They notice and wrap an arm around their shoulder.
“Everything alright, starshine?” they murmur.
“Lots of people,” she whispers.
“We’re almost there,” they reassure and she trusts them.
They walk for another minute or two before stopping at a little shop. It’s colder inside than outside, making Eclipsa wrap her arms around herself to try and save her warmth. Upbeat music plays from the speakers in the corner, slightly drowned out by the conversations of the other guests in the shop. It’s bright and cutely decorated, and the people behind the glass counter smile at her.
“Have you tried ice cream yet?” Everett asks.
Eclipsa shakes her head. She’s never heard of it before.
“That’s what we’re getting today. It’s sweet and cold and very delicious. I think you’ll like it.”
They walk up to the counter and Eclipsa quietly watches them talk to the employee. She peers into the glass and looks at all of the different colourful tubs. That must be the ice cream.
“Which one do you want?” Everett asks her.
Eclipsa looks again, and this time, instead of admiring the large selection, she weighs her options. Each tub is labelled with the flavors, and although she has no clue what ice cream tastes like and can barely read, a lot of the names are identical to foods she has tried.
“That one,” she says, pointing to the tub labelled as mint chocolate chip. They have mint growing in the garden at home that she likes to chew on, and chocolate chips are delicious.
“Do you want any toppings?” the lady behind the counter asks.
Eclipsa freezes and turns to Everett. “What are toppings?”
The lady slides a big container that holds a bunch of little jars with different things inside them towards her. She stands up on her tippy toes to get a better look. The jars are labelled as well, but none of the words are familiar to her, and neither are the substances inside.
Eclipsa glances over to Everett with a worried look on her face. How is she supposed to pick if she doesn’t know what they are? They’ll get mad at her, won’t they? She needs to pick a topping, Everett told her to, but she can’t.
But they don’t get mad. They gently pull her into their side. “No toppings, please,” they tell the lady.
Eclipsa doesn’t realise she was shaking until she stops. She melts into Everett and wipes the tears from her eyes. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. She shouldn’t have gotten so freaked out over it.
The lady slid the array of toppings away and scooped some of the green ice cream into a little cup. Once the cup is filled to the brim with the treat, she sticks in a tiny spoon and slides it over the counter to Eclipsa.
“Thanks,” she says softly as she takes it. It’s cold against her trembling hands.
Everett doesn’t order anything, which confuses Eclipsa. They just pay the lady with a “thank you” and lead Eclipsa away from the counter. Are they planning on sharing hers?
“Aren’t you going to get something?” she asks.
“I can’t,” they frown. “It’s too cold. It would hurt me.”
“Oh,” she hums. That makes sense.
“Do you want to eat inside here or go outside and find a place?”
The number of people inside hasn’t dwindled; if anything, it has grown. “Outside.”
They walk back outside and down the street, looking for a nice park to sit in. Eclipsa holds her ice cream as tight as she can so she doesn’t drop it.
A place to sit is found in no time that’s just a block away from the shop. It’s pretty standard, a nice fountain in the center and a couple of benches surrounding it, with a small, empty playground a few paces away.
Only a couple people are here, so they sit down at one of the benches. Eclipsa places her little cup of ice cream in her lap, which has just barely started to soften from the heat outside. She slowly stirs the ice cream and watches in awe at how quickly it’s melting.
“Are you going to eat it?” Everett asks after a whole minute has passed of stirring.
She doesn’t answer. She heard the question, but she’s too entranced by the way the chocolate chips smear across the green mint. And, well, she’s always a bit scared when trying new things to eat.
Food is scary. And an incredibly odd concept. People see no problem in mixing all sorts of plants and animal flesh together into a concoction and putting it inside their bodies. It’s gross. It’s meant to keep them alive and give them energy while threatening their life at the same time. The risk of choking or allergies or a million other reasons makes the whole concept seem pointless. And it’s just plain gross.
Eclipsa shouldn’t need food to survive. She’s a star, and stars feed on the wishes of mortals. But she’s trapped in her human-ish body, so she must eat on occasion to avoid dying.
She’s too scared of the dangers of food to eat as much as she should.
But she can’t deny that food tastes good. So she takes a bite, cutting off whatever thought Everett was about to say next.
She’s immediately overwhelmed by the cold of the ice cream. It only lasts a moment, being overtaken by the pleasant taste of how sweet it is. Eclipsa hums happily and takes a second bite.
“Do you like it?” Everett asks, and when Eclipsa glances up at them, she sees a warm smile.
“Yeah,” she says. “Very cold.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. It’s just… new.” She hasn’t eaten a very wide variety of foods yet. The only notable temperature for food that she’s seen before is hot. “I didn’t know food could be cold.”
“Most foods aren’t.”
Eclipsa nods in understanding and takes another few bites. Everett didn’t get any, but still got some for her. Are they planning on getting something for themself afterwards? That sounds like the most reasonable outcome.
But when she finishes eating, and what’s left of the ice cream is a warm puddle at the bottom of the cup, Everett makes no move to stand and buy something for themself.
“Are you finished?” Is all they ask.
Eclipsa stirs the minty goop and nods. “All done. Thank you for buying this for me.”
“Of course.”
She shifts awkwardly. “Aren’t you going to get something?”
“No.”
She stares at her lap in confusion. Why would they get her the ice cream then?
“But- why-?” she tries to ask.
“I was only planning on getting you something. I wasn’t going to get anything for myself,” they explain. “Because you’re my daughter.”
Right. Their “daughter”.
The sentiment warms her chest. She’s not used to getting little gifts. People usually only give her something with the expectation of getting something in return.
It feels really nice to get little treats.
Maybe Everett isn’t that bad.
“Let me get that for you,” they say, reaching their arm over. They take the cup from her lap and walk a few steps to toss it in the trash can right by the bench. While Eclipsa waits, she happily swings her feet back and forth.
When Everett returns, after taking a lot longer than they should’ve, they’re holding something small in their hand. It’s a tiny, yellow flower. One of the weeds that grow on every lawn once the weather turns warm. Before Eclipsa can question it, they hold it out and slide it into her hair.
She’s never cared about the flowers until now.
Everett smiles and Eclipsa does too. A matching flower is tucked behind their own ear, looking a little silly compared to their size. They sit back down, slightly closer to Eclipsa. Usually, she’d shy away and scoot over, but this time she finds herself leaning towards them.
A wave of exhaustion washes over her suddenly. All of the walking and existing around people have finally caught up to her. She yawns and slumps into the bench, leaning into something warm and incredibly soft, like a giant stuffed animal. Whatever it is suddenly wraps around her and pulls her closer. Of course, she obliges and curls into their side. It’s cozy and safe and she finds her eyes slipping closed and her body relaxing.
Eclipsa wakes up in her bed, snuggled up all cozy in blankets and pillows. How did she get here? The last thing she remembers is dozing off on the bench. As she thinks about it, she vaguely remembers being carried down the sidewalk back home and being tucked into bed.
Everett must have taken her home, and it must have been them that she fell asleep on. They’re a lot more snuggly than Eclipsa expected. They’re cozy, like a giant teddy bear.
Unfortunately, she’s alone in her room and can’t snuggle them anymore. But she was left firmly tucked in her bed, so much that she’s practically drowning in soft blankets. She needs to get up anyway, so there’s no point in wishing Everett is here. It’s well into the evening, and there’s still so much laundry to do.
Slowly, Eclipsa climbs out of bed and stands on her jelly legs. She wipes the tiredness out of her eyes and quietly leaves her room. Voices and clattering can be heard from downstairs. Everett’s other children must have come home and are most likely eating dinner with them. Eclipsa has hit her limit on seeing other people today, so she peers down the stairs into the dining room from the safety behind the banister.
Everybody’s at the table, eating and laughing and telling joke’s Eclipsa doesn’t understand. Everett’s there too, always happy to quietly listen to all of their children talk about all of the things they got up to today.
Once they’re done eating, Eclipsa will wait until Everett’s alone and ask about when they’re supposed to do the rest of the laundry. Then they’ll work together for a while until one of their other children distracts them, and they leave with the promise of returning. But they’ll get too invested with whatever their other child wants and forget about Eclipsa and the laundry. She’ll finish the rest of it by herself and quietly go to bed. That’s how it always goes.
While she’s distracted, sitting on the stairs, lost in thought, she doesn’t notice that Everett’s looking at her. She tunes back into the world to look directly into Everett’s eyes. For once, they’re only paying attention to her while in a room full of all of their children.
If she stays any longer, they’ll convince her to come downstairs and join them, so she quickly runs back to her bedroom. Not long after, somebody knocks on her door.
Eclipsa opens the door, and to nobody’s surprise, it’s Everett.
“Are you going to join us for dinner?” they ask.
“No,” she answers.
“Why not?”
“I already ate earlier. And everybody’s home.”
Everett sighs. “If that’s what you want.”
Eclipsa nods and shifts uncomfortably. “Are we… going to finish doing the laundry?”
“The laundry?” They look at her, confused for a moment before realising. “Oh. I already finished it. I did it while you were asleep.”
“Oh,” she mumbles. For some reason, she finds herself heavily disappointed. She really wanted to keep working with Everett.
“But,” they slowly say. “I need some help cleaning up after dinner, if you’re up to it.”
That’s something they ask all of their children, and every time, Eclipsa has declined. She’s always been too afraid of Everett to accept, and she has a fear of water, which is always a feature in cleaning after dinner.
But she really, really, wants to stay with Everett.
A soft smile spreads across her face. “Yes, please.”
“Do you want to come down now, or after dinner?”
”After dinner,” she responds before she even processes the question. The other children are still down there. She’d rather fall out the window in her bedroom and break both her legs than go down to see them.
Instead of responding, Everett just nods and leaves, quietly closing the door behind them. They have a weird tendency to not respond to the things she says and just leave unannounced. It’s pretty annoying.
But they’re gone and back downstairs before she can do anything about it, so she sits back down onto her bed. Her hand routinely reaches back into her hair. She plucks out hairs one by one, instead of in clumps like usual. It makes a slow, steady stream of light pain that relaxes her deeper in the pillows.
Everett’s knocking on her door again before she even realizes a minute has passed. Eclipsa hurries to throw a blanket over the scattered pile of hair on her bed and as she’s moving to answer the door she combs her fingers through the curls still on her head to look as little suspicious as possible.
”Are you ready?” Everett asks as soon as the door opens.
“Is anybody else still downstairs?”
“Yes.”
Eclipsa winces. “No. Not ready.”
“People are going to be down there for a while. If you want to help me clean, you’re going to have to see them.”
“But- But I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t help me,” they say before turning and walking away.
Shame washes over her and tears prick at her eyes. Crying is pointless. It won’t do anything for her. She’s lucky to even get a “tough love” out of Everett when she’s upset.
Eclipsa weighs her two options for a very long few moments. Go downstairs and have to face everybody and clean the kitchen, or stay upstairs and be sad and lonely?
She slowly steps out into the hallway and follows Everett downstairs. They only glance back at her once with an unreadable expression on their face. Their other children are loudly playing a card game of sorts at the dining table. Thankfully, nobody notices Eclipsa walking past them, wiping the tears from her eyes, and entering the kitchen.
While Everett works on the dishes, Eclipsa puts all of the leftover food into plastic containers and sorts them into the fridge or pantry. At some point during the cleaning, Everett starts to hum to themself. Eclipsa doesn’t recognize the song but it’s upbeat enough to dance to and knowing that it’s from Everett makes her smile.
Once the food is all put away and the dishes are all washed, Eclipsa sprays and wipes the counters and Everett sweeps up all the dropped crumbs. Throughout the entire cleaning, a few of their children would run into the kitchen to grab a snack or something to drink. They would give a rushed hi to both of them before dashing back out. It’s barely any acknowledgement to her but it’s enough to make her freeze up and hold her breath until the other child is gone again.
It takes about half an hour to get everything all cleaned, and once it is, Eclipsa’s already missing the time spent together, even if they never spoke a word.
“I’m going to take out the trash,” Everett says. “And then I’m going to join your siblings and play with them for a while. You’re welcome to join me.”
For once, she actually considers it. Maybe it won’t be so terrible to spend some time with their other children. But then she remembers all her previous attempts and just shakes her head in response to Everett.
“I’m going to go to bed,” she says.
“Okay,” Everett responds, pressing a kiss to her sore head. “Goodnight starshine.”
“Goodnight Everett.”
Eclipsa walks back upstairs and into the safety of her bedroom. As she changes into a nightgown, which really isn’t much different from the dress she was already wearing, she replays every moment of today in her mind. She comes to the conclusion that today was a good day and that makes her smile.
Eclipsa brushes her teeth and hair and climbs into her bed that was always too big. It’s covered in blankets and pillows and she feels so tiny when laying in it. It’s not all bad. Back when she first arrived and would wake up every night from horrible nightmares, somebody would climb in and lay next to her for comfort. The nightmares aren't as often anymore, and nobody has cuddled her in a long time. She should probably ask for a smaller bed.
As she’s falling asleep she gazes out her open window at the stars. She used to feel homesick when she looked at them, sometimes to the point where she’d have to shut the blinds. She misses her home so much.
But right now, she doesn’t miss it that much. Which is shocking to her. She always assumed that she would never feel at home here, but now she thinks she may have been wrong.
Maybe Everett does care about her.
Maybe she does want to stay here.