Chapter Text
Espresso tugs at his shirt inside his hoodie, which was sticking to his torso. Hot. It’s too hot. And loud. Why couldn't he just have been driven to camp by his auntie? But no, his auntie would have tried to make conversation and talk him to death. So maybe this was better. No one’s trying to talk to him.
No, he thinks decisively. This is not better.
He pulls his duffel bag closer to himself, pushing himself against the window to try to make himself as small as possible. He pushes his glasses up on his nose; they’rr sliding down, his nose is too sweaty. Everything is too hot. Too hot and too much. How much longer of this bus ride would he have to endure?
They’re almost there. He can see the camp sign ahead, through the hazy heat. Only ten or so minutes of this hell on Earthbread.
Everything is too hot. Espresso’s face is dripping sweat, his shirt is sticking—again—and he was painfully aware of his aching stomach. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, he'd uncharacteristically slept in and didn't have time. The thin boy squeezes his eyes shut and tries to not to think, just to pass the time.
—
Kkrrrrrr. The bus comes to a halting, grinding stop on the dirt road. Madeleine grips the top of the seat in front of him, ready to be the first one off when the doors open.
The bus doors hiss, and slowly, slowly open… Madeleine leaps up, dragging his backpack, and he is free.
That’s a rather shortlived feeling.
He feels something thud into his back, hard, and falla facefirst into the dirt. No.. those are arms.. that is a someone sprawled on his back.
“Sorry! I, uh, I tripped.. and… sorry.”
A high-pitched, panicky voice reaches his ears and a scrawny kid in a large hoodie rolls off of Madeleine. The boy clearly hasn’t hit puberty yet. He strains to pull a heaping duffel bag off of Madeleine’s back.
Madeleine rolls on his back with a grunt to make it easier for the other camper. His cheeks are flushed dark red. He looks terrified. Of, like, everything, by how his eyes are darting around and how wide those eyes are. The boy is ready to run.
He stands up and runs a hand through his now tousled creamy locks. “It’s okay. Need a hand?” Madeleine gestures at the bulging duffel bag. He doubts this boy will be able to carry it.
He doesn’t wait for the camper to answer before hefting it on his shoulder, his own backpack on the other, and starts walking. The kid scrambles to his feet and runs after Madeleine.
Come to think of it, he should stop calling him kid, at least in his head. “What’s your name? I’m Madeleine. I’m fourteen. Been here since I was nine.”
The cacao-colored camper struggles to keep up with his long strides. He pants, “Ess…presso… *pant*... fifteen.”
Espresso. That makes sense, paired with his dark hair and skin and eyes. The fact that Espresso is fifteen does not—he looked about eleven and a bit like a girl. Madeleine slows down a bit so he… no, Essie.. that was cute.. like a girl, he grins inwardly, can take a breath. “Okay, Essie. You new here?”
Espresso shakes his head. “No... Since I was ten. And don’t call me Essie.”
Huh. Wouldn’t he have recognized him then? But he guessed not, seeing how the boy shrunk into himself, like he was deathly terrified of being noticed. “Okay,” Madeleine shrugs. “But Essie is cute.. Hey, here we are!”
They stop walking under the arched entrance to the camp. Madeleine takes this time to adjust the heavy duffel bag on his shoulder and look back at the silver-painted bus, which most of the campers were just getting off of in a frenzy. He recognizes most of them, but of course there are the ten or so first-timers as usual. Holy Earthbread, he thinks, they keep getting smaller.
He looks up at the silver-gilded sign with a smile. Millennial Tree Summer Camp. Bit of a mouthful but the place more than made up for it.
He loves the camp. He loves the space, the air, the green he never sees in the Creme Republic. But what he loves most was this was the one place he was free of his mother and her reputation. Here it was just.. fun. There was too much to do to think about things like that.
“Madeleine! And Espresso!” A willowy green silhouette greets them. Wind Archer, one of the longtime camp counselors. His eyes rest for a moment on the two bags Madeleine is carrying. “You went on ahead, I see. Where’s the rest of the campers?”
The two boys simultaneously nod back at the roaring mob of campers. Espresso shudders at the thought of being in there. He’s glad he got off early. And that this tall kid is carrying his bag for him.
Wind Archer urges them onwards to the firepit. “We’ll start our circle when everyone comes. You two know the drill.”
They begin walking, Madeleine adjusting the duffel bag.. really, it was heavy.. when the counselor stops them again.
“Wait! You’re both in the Dark Cacao Cabin this summer, so go ahead and drop off your stuff first. You get first bunk picks.”
Is it just Espresso’s imagination or did he see Wind Archer wink as they left?
—
Dark Cacao Cabin looks like it sounds. Big. Dark. Imposing. Just like the man himself. Espresso knows he was born of the Coffee Tribe, despite having grown up in the Creme Republic and being as small as he was. That isn't important for him, but for his auntie Latte, it is.
His favorite place is the common room upstairs, dark and broody and soft. It's easy to hide. The library beside it is a good spot too, with an arch window for when it storms and he can curl up on the ledge. The huge bathrooms are right under the stone stairs to the second floor under dark oak ranch doors.
Then, of course, the bunks. Or the barracks, but the sheets are soft so it's nicer than barracks. Espresso's least favorite bit; sleeping.
He doesn’t really care. So long as he has his flip phone and his Tamagotchi he will survive these two months.
“You coming? I call top bunk!” Madeleine calls and runs into the cabin, dropping the duffel bag next to a bed and climbing on the upper bunk of that bed. He had picked both their bunks, it seems. Okay. Not like Espresso planned on sleeping anyway.
Espresso sighs quietly and follows the blonde boy. The stone tiles are cold. He looks up at the dark wooden vaulted ceiling, the common room on the second floor. Dark Cacao Cabin is just as huge as he remembers it.
He walks over to his duffel bag and pulls out a small packet of jellyberries, ignoring Madeleine kicking his head unintentionally with his bouncing knee. Madeleine was getting dirt in his hair with his sneakers. He sighs when he can no longer ignore it. “...Please.”
Madeleine shrugs. “If you say so. The rest of the campers are probably here now. Let’s go,” He swings his legs up and jumps off the bunk, landing staggeringly on the cold stone floor. Showoff.
Anyways Espresso rips open his packet of jellyberries and follows the other cookie through the light woods. He isn't sure why. Usually he stays away from people like this: loud, sociable.
But he follows this pretty boy to the fire pit. Which was loud. Bustling. And.. loud. Did he say that it was loud? He found himself inching nearer to Madeleine, afraid he’d get lost in the mob of campers. But people keep coming up and talking to the blonde boy. Who wouldn't? He oozes with confidence. Madeleine is clearly popular and nice and a bit conceited but…
No. No, Espresso definitely has not been watching him since his first time ever at camp. He has not been spying on this boy whenever he got the chance. No. He has not. He is not.. anything.. on Madeleine in the slightest. He tries to convince himself of this.
Is it hot? His hands feel clammy. His shirt is sticking again. Just like on the bus. But worse. Why does everyone have to be so close?
Millennial Tree, backed up by the counselors and co-counselors, clears a path through all the campers and stands in the middle of their circle. Silence falls, almost immediately. This is what Espresso likes; quiet.
“Everyone, quiet,” the camp director speaks softly. Millennial Tree doesn’t need to be loud or bossy; the counselors, namely Sea Fairy, do that for him. Espresso does’t think he has ever heard him raise his voice. “Welcome, first-timers, and of course our returning campers, to Millenial Tree Summer Camp. I am Millennial Tree, your camp director.. If you would please sit.”
The fifty or so mass of young campers sit down, some on the grass, some on tree stumps. Espresso happens to be on the ground along with Madeleine. His heart jumps into his throat. This is embarrassing. What if this blonde boy notices just how flushed he is?
He recognizes the puffy-haired girl beside him: it’s Cream Puff, one of the few campers he interacts with, however sparingly.
She looks at him with mild surprise. Then her eyes light up with recognition. “Oh. Hi, Espresso! You look terrified. As usual.”
Espresso nods and solemnly eats a jellyberry out of his packet. He hears a snort from his other side and whipped around. It’s the blonde boy, of course. Madeleine snickers. “What?” he laugh-whispers. He spreads out his arms innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Sure,” he huffs under his breath, but it doesn't sound even half annoyed. He can't be annoyed at Madeleine. But what was funny? Espresso truly doesn’t get it. What is fun about summer camp, he doesn’t get either. He only goes every year because his father (and auntie) push him into it, saying he needed to get fresh air. Meet people. Get tanned. Espresso does not need, nor can achieve, tanning anyway.
But Madeleine seems to enjoy it. He has people who high-five him, who clap him on the back, who like him.
Why does Espresso know all these things? He doesn't want to admit to himself he knows these things. He doesn't want to admit he's been watching this boy for five years.
“Anywho, let’s get on with our circle!” Moonlight, Sea-Fairy’s co-counselor, says, clapping as she makes her rounds around the campers. She gives Madeleine a look. What was Madeleine doing wrong? The boy was only laughing. Snickering, really, which suited his face. His face was meant for devilish grins.
Sea Fairy joins her, clapping the same rhythm. She shoves Moonlight playfully. “Everyone, hold hands!”
But even Madeleine’s face cannot distract him from what he knows is coming. They do this every year. They introduce themselves every year. He has done this before. He can do it this time. Right?
His shirt is sticking again. Espresso looks at his hands nervously. They are clammy. He doesn’t want anyone to feel his sweaty palms; if they do, they'd be able to tell just how distressed he is.
The blonde camper looks at Espresso. Madeleine sees how tightly he is clenching the jellyberry packet. He gestures for the boy to put it away, and holds out his left hand with a smile.
He watches as the scrawny kid slowly puts down the bag and takes his outstretched hand, as well the white-haired girl’s on the other side. He tries not to frown at how wet Espresso’s palms are. Like.. they’re dripping sweat. Actually dripping. On his hand.
Madeleine shrugs it off and puts his attention back to the counselors. Millennial Tree has disappeared, as usual. Wind Archer had joined in the clapping as well. “Returning campers, you know how this goes.”
A guy with a fiery—literally—mohawk comes and starts clapping offbeat, and rather half-heartedly. “We’ll point at someone, you say your name, something about yourself, and what you like about camp. Or hate. That works too.”
The purple-eyed co-counselor frowns at the new face. “Fire Spirit!” she hisses quietly, then resumes her broadcasting voice. “Then you high five and pass it on to the next person!”
He smirks. New co-counselor. That should be fun. Fire Spirit is the only counselor Madeleine didn’t recognize and he was already making people angry. Yeah, this would be an interesting two months.
“And.. who’s going first?” Sea Fairy speaks next. She whirls around and closes her eyes, her flowing hair spraying mist on a few campers. Madeleine feels Espresso’s grip on his hand tighten. Finally the counselor stops spinning. Her finger points at a shy-looking girl with a pink hoodie pulled tight over her head. “Go on,” Sea Fairy urges gently.
She shoves her hands deeper into her pockets. “Um.. hi. I’m Strawberry. Just Strawberry. I, um, like pink? And I like dodgeball..”
Strawberry high-fives the next camper who was up, an awfully peppy wide-eyed girl with apples on her hair. A first-timer who clearly believes she is on top of the world. Madeleine knows that type well. No, he isn’t one, is he? But his mother surely is.
Next, a willowy boy in a dark turquoise sweater. He’s older than most campers, maybe sixteen, and he knows this boy. “Dragonfighters are cool.” Confident, too. Madeleine grins as Moonlight glares at Eclair and the tall boy simply waves it off. He winks at him and mouths, dragon boy.
Wave. Introduction. Wave. Introduction. And so that is how it went. The wave keeps getting closer to Espresso. Too close. He feels his abdomen seizing up. There are only four more campers until he had to talk. Three more. Then two more.
He squeezes his eyes shut. Too close. Maybe if he shuts his eyes everyone will go away. Please. Don’t make me talk.
Then one more, Cream Puff. She speaks briskly and with a bright grin. “I’m Cream Puff. I’m a wizard! And I like all the blueberry birds I can cast on in the woods.”
His head begins to spin. Why does he have to do this every year? Espresso has been here every summer since he was ten. They know him already, right? Why does he have to talk? Why was everyone looking at him? He grips the hands on both sides even tighter, despite how slippery they were. Please. He just wants to hide in the cabin. He looks at Wind Archer pleadingly. Please. Let me go.
The peridot counselor meets his eyes, his brow furrowing in concern. Wind Archer nods almost imperceptibly.
He can go. He is free.
Espresso pulls his hands free. He ignores the eyes of the other campers following him and scrambles away as fast as he can. He trips on the jellyberry packet. He doesn’t care. He just needs to get away. Anywhere.
The boy half-runs, half-stumbles, to the Dark Cacao Cabin. It’s empty for once. An escape from this hell of Earthbread.
He thinks for a moment and digs his flip phone out of his duffel bag. Then he scrambles up the stairs to the second floor common room, gripping the dark railing tightly for fear he will fall off. And die. Which, maybe, wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.
His footsteps are loud on the smooth stone tiles of the second story. What if someone hears him? Espresso throws his shoes down and instead walks in his socks. That way he won’t be heard. He won’t be found.
Finally alone, Espresso can breathe.
—
Madeleine looks back at Dark Cacao Cabin with half a mind to run after the boy.. but he can’t. He has his pride and it’s his turn anyway. He promises himself he’ll go find Espresso after, and it happens he’s the last camper to go anyway.
“My name is Madeleine,” he says hurriedly. “I’m gonna be a paladin, and I like the forest here.”
He’s happy he was going to be a paladin. Proud, just like his mother is of him. In her own way, her way of harsh work and harsh words. She is proud, right?
His path is set anyways; since he was six Grand Madeleine has trained him gruelingly for knighthood. Besides, what else can Madeleine do but fight?
Stop thinking, he chides himself. That’s why you’re here at summer camp, to not think. This is the one place Madeleine is free and that’s why he loves it.
Wind Archer smiles, but Madeleine sees that the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. His brows are still creased in something like worry. “Now it’s time for the scavenger hunt! Our co-counselors here will explain the rules..”
The mass of campers start up talking again with a roar and move closer to Fire Spirit and Moonlight. Madeleine makes no move to stand up. He felt responsible for the kid for no real reason. He wants to go and check on Espresso, but.. but what? Madeleine looks at the crushed packet of jellyberries Espresso left behind. All the tiny jellyberries had fallen out on the dirt.
He hesitates, watching the co-counselors lay out the rules around the firepit, before making his decision. He’ll at least get Espresso another snack. The scrawny git is probably hungry.
Madeleine gets up and turns towards his cabin, not noticing how Wind Archer watches the back of his head with smiling eyes. He decides to take the long way through the woods, just for fresh air. Some change of scenery.
When he arrives at Dark Cacao Cabin after ten or so minutes of weaving through wild branches, Madeleine slides open the door and pulls out a bag of star jellies out of his backpack, contraband in his home. He had brought his whole secret stash to camp. He looks around the moody cabin, which is silent and apparently empty. His footsteps echo around the open space, bouncing off the wooden vaulted ceiling.
The packet crinkles in his hands. Madeleine self-consciously wipes it on his shorts to smooth it out and starts up the second-floor stairs. “Espresso?” he calls out, his own voice bouncing back to him. Holy Earthbread, he sounds stupid. What is he doing?
Madeleine realizes how loud his sandals are on the stone and chucks them down. He treads barefoot to the common room, ignoring how cold the floor is. The boy is hiding here somewhere.
Thing is, there are a lot of places to hide. The common room is huge. Before Madeleine had always been in the Pure Vanilla Cabin, which is smaller, way less moody, way less.. labyrinthy.
He looks in the library alcove first, getting down on the knees to check under the leather lounge. Nothing. He shoves the star jelly bag into his pocket so he can have both hands free in his search.
A small sniff echoes around the cabin, muffled under what Madeleine guesses is a blanket. He tiptoes over to the lounge part of the common room. That’s also.. huge and hugely stylish. Like his mother. He doesn’t want to think about his mother.
Here there are more leather lounges, all with dark purple plush blankets. “Espresso?” he calls again. He ties back his shoulder-length hair self-consciously. Be presentable, Grand Madeleine chides him in his head. Make me proud. He’s trying. This is what his mother would do, right?
Madeleine tries to shake it off and looks around for any sign of someone in the common room. He freezes when he hears another sniff. “It’s just me. Okay?” he says quietly, tiptoeing over to a trembling purple blanket.
His hands shake slightly as he reaches to lift the blanket up. “Hey.”
Espresso looks up at him, thin arms wrapped around his knees. The boy’s eyes are red, but, surprisingly, he meets Madeleine’s gaze. He doesn’t speak. That’s okay.
“I, uh, thought you would be hungry.” Madeleine pulls the star jellies packet out of his pocket and holds it out to Espresso. The dark-haired boy takes it with trembling hands and rips it open. Espresso doesn’t tell him to leave, so he takes it as an invitation and sits down next to him.
Espresso doesn’t mind the company for once. The blonde boy, the pretty boy, is quiet, uncharacteristically so, he knows. He’ll admit to himself, just this once, that he’s noticed Madeleine from all his people-watching. But he had always watched the campers anyway, and the particularly loud and confident ones were hard not to notice. But the pretty, loud, confident ones.. how could he not stare?
He was content with just watching them. Kind of. He hadn’t thought the loud and confident ones would notice him too. Even if it took him literally falling on top of them to do so.
Madeleine looks nice with his hair tied back, only leaving his bangs to frame his face. His face is meant for devilish grins and soft smiles. Madeleine’s warmth beside him is calming, somehow, for all his chaos and pride. Espresso appreciates the effort he’s putting into being silent. He pops a star jelly into his mouth every once in a while. His hands aren’t shaking anymore. The cabin doesn’t feel so cold.
Maybe he’s found a friend. The first, aside from the forced playdates his auntie, Latte, arranged when he was six. And he doesn’t mind just sitting for an hour with Madeleine. So, Espresso decides, he would do that.
—
A flowing silhouette stands in the open doorframe, casting a tall, faintly blue shadow across the stone tiles. Espresso can see it through the second-floor railing. “Wind Archer told me to tell you… dodgeball’s starting now, since you missed the scavenger hunt. He says you don’t need to come if you don’t feel like it.”
With that, the silhouette turns and leaves, leaving the stone floor drenched in water behind her. Madeleine looks at him and then at the now empty star jelly packet.
“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” the blonde boy says quietly. Espresso shakes his head. He feels bad; Wind Archer, even if he was a counselor, cared enough to ask. So he should go.
He gets up, stowing his flip phone in his pocket. Surprisingly he hasn’t used it yet. Usually he’s on it first thing upon arriving to get away from camp. He hasn’t felt like he needs to yet. “No. Let’s go.”
The two boys walk downstairs and pick up their shoes they had chucked down earlier. Espresso throws away the star jelly bag at the nearest trash can, and he follows Madeleine through the woods to the open field. All the campers are there, already sweaty-faced grom the scavenger hunt, Espresso guesses.
It’s hot. Swelteringly hot. He longs to take off his hoodie. His shirt under it is glued to his skin from the sweat. But he doesn’t want to leave his thin arms bare. Espresso crosses his arms at the thought.
He sees Wind Archer’s searching eyes, which soften when the counselor sees him and Madeleine at the back of the crowd. Wind Archer nudges the man beside him with the blazing mohawk.
“Fire Spirit. I think he’s his co-counselor,” Madeleine tells him, nodding at the eccentric-looking co-counselor. Fire Spirit looks up from picking at his fingernails with a disgruntled look. He gives his counselor an exasperated sigh before facing the campers.
He snaps his fingers, creating a small plume of fire resembling a dragon, and says languidly, “Okay. We’re going to play dodgeball.” His face splits in a mischievous grin as he continues. “Don’t be afraid to bash anyone really well, they’ll be patched up fine. We’ve got the balls in the middle of the field, you know to how to play, we’ll sort you into your teams.”
Fire Spirit points with his thumb over to Sea Fairy carelessly. The ocean-tinged girl glares at Fire Spirit, before she and him then declare themselves team captains, and sort the fifty-plus campers into teams. It isn’t stressful, thank Earthbread; they simply cut a line down the middle of the crowd and take their lots.
Madeleine inches closer to the scrawny git as they walk over to the playing field. He felt oddly responsible for this boy he had only known a few hours.
Or maybe it was a bit of guilt, considering they had both been here at the same time for five whole years prior and he only noticed Espresso existed now.
Besides, he has a feeling Espresso isn’t meant for dodgeball. One good hit and the boy would be knocked out, small as he was. And Madeleine is a knight, anyway. Paladin in training. That’s his job—to protect others.
He glances at the other campers lined up who are on his team. There’s Strawberry, the girl in the pink hoodie, and the dragon boy, who he’s pretty sure his name is Eclair. Plus a bunch of first-timers.
Espresso’s holding his shirt sleeve tightly. He tries to ignore it, doesn't want to move, doesn’t want the boy’s frail piano hands to leave that spot. Why? He feels responsible for the kid. That’s all. Like a little kid at the park who’s all alone and you feel like you just have to stay with them to make sure nothing happens.
Sea Fairy stands in the center of the field, whistle in her mouth. Madeleine can feel the campers tensing for when she blows it. She holds up three fingers. Then two. One.
On Sea Fairy’s whistle, the air chokes up with balls left and right. Strawberry is surprisingly good at dodgeball, for a first-timer at least. He aims and hits a kid in a pancake outfit square in the shoulder.
Madeleine dodges another ball, reaches out, catches another one, and lobbies it back at the thrower. Then he hears a groan and whips his head around—his stomach drops as he realizes that when he dodged, he had let Espresso take the hit.
The dark haired-boy is on the ground, his eyes screwed up in pain. He clutches in between his legs, knees up to his chest, shit, he had taken a hit to the balls.
(wow that is a lot of balls.)
“Espresso?” he asks urgently, kneeling to get on the other boy’s level. Madeleine feels about three hits to his back at once. That doesn’t faze him much. His back has been through more than that, but even so, the impacts make the scars sting.
“..ngh.” Espresso rolls over, his dark brown hair falling over his face. Madeleine figures he’ll be trampled on if he simply leaves Espresso lying there. And he isn’t so sure the boy’s frame can take that. He half-lifts, half-drags, Espresso to the edge of the field, under the shade of a tall silvery tree.
He’s afraid to leave the kid, so he just sits in front of him in case any balls come this way. The air is still, though, full of only conversation rather than balls. None of the campers were looking. They were all gathered around something near the middle of the field.
He watches as Espresso gets a grip on himself. He stays laying on the trampled grass, but Espresso’s eyes are open now, and the boy is just breathing heavily with his hands over his manly bits.
The sound of fire crackling makes Madeleine whip around. “His dick isn’t bleeding, is it, and looks like the worst of it is over, so—yeah, he’s fine,” Fire Spirit says, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Anyway, that’s gotta be the most casualties we’ve had in five minutes of dodgeball… that’s, what, one c—”
Espresso’s eyes widen as he peeks through his fingers just to be safe. Madeleine snickers.
“Fire Spirit!” Sea Fairy interjects from out of nowhere, spraying water indignantly on the co-counselor, who shudders angrily. “They’re kids. You don’t need to throw around—”
“What? It’s not like co—fine! fine! Not like it’s a swear, but fine. Anyway, as I was saying, that’s—yes, I know, Sea Fairy, stop glaring at me—one.. private.. hit.. and over there we’ve got a few dislocated joints. Bit of a scuffle. I think they took my words to heart,” Fire Spirit says with some kind of sneering pride, snapping his fingers to make another fire plume rise.
“Anyway,” Sea Fairy says, throwing a pointed look over her shoulder to the crowd of campers. “I think you should be dealing with the aftermath of that scuffle. Right?”
Fire Spirt grunts reluctantly in dissent and turns away where she had pointed. He flips her off as he leaves, a small wisp of smoke rising from the middle finger.
The blonde boy snickers again. Madeleine likes this co-counselor. A good contrast to Wind Archer’s benevolent, but boring, seriousness and refusal to enjoy things.
Sea Fairy turns back to look at them. “Sorry,” she says apologetically. “He’s a bit.. vulgar. Don’t worry, he does actually care despite being an utter prick otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten the job. You’re okay, though?” the last question is targeted at Espresso, who’s sitting upright now.
“Yeah.” Espresso nods. It only tingles a bit, and his hip feels bruised from the impact of the ball. But that’s all.
The counselor nods in return, and whips around, spraying water on the boys. “I should go check on those kids too.”
After Sea Fairy leaves, the two boys look at each other. They look back at the crowd of campers at the field. Espresso decides that under this silver cedar tree is perfectly fine. He shakes his head at Madeleine, who shrugs.
As they watch the counselor and co-counselor drag out the two injured campers—one is the pink hoodie girl, the other is Clotted Cream, one of Madeleine’s friends from school—the blonde boy speaks up. “We should probably go. It’s getting dark,” he gestures at the blazing orange sunset. “So you know we’ll be doing dinner soon round the firepit.”
Espresso nods again, avoiding his eyes. Madeleine realizes he's never seen him at the first day of camp dinner. Or any dinner, really. Maybe that's why he never noticed the boy.
Madeleine stands up, brushing the leaves and dirt off his butt.
He looks back at the dark-haired boy, whose unruly hair is in his eyes so really his head is just a tousled mass of brown. Espresso makes no move to get up.
“You coming?” he asks.
Espresso shakes his head. He finally looks up at him. “Sorry,” Espresso whispers so small it's hardly a sound. I can't, the boy mouths.
He thinks back to the greeting circle. The hour he sat with Espresso in silence. And he believes it, so he turns on his heel and make his way to the firepit, leaving Espresso in the empty field.
—
The darker the night gets, the higher the bonfire rises. Everyone is talking. Espresso would hate it. Madeleine loves the sugar-high, amicable energy of people talking. One of the few things he loves about the bustling Creme Republic; it never sleeps.
Madeleine sticks a marshmallow into the flames, and it immediately catches. He rushes to bring it out and blows at it furiously, the heat licking his cheeks, and by the time he blows it out his marshmallow is a charred blob.
“There's an art to it, you know,” Clotted Cream says with a smirk. He pulls his own, perfectly golden, marshmallow out of the fire with the hand
Madeleine slides the burnt crust off and eats the gooey marshmallow right off the stick. “It's better this way,” he argues through a mouthful of sticky sweet. “Then it's actually, like, hot.”
The other boy shrugs, taking a bite of his own not-charred s'more. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say.”
Madeleine slaps a mosquito on his calf, killing it on the spot. He wipes away the blood with his hand. That’s the only thing Madeleine hates about summer camp; the bugs, especially at night, and because there was a lake nearby it was crawling with mosquitoes and pests.
He pulls his hair down from the ponytail. It's not so hot anymore, now that the sun has set.
The short-haired boy looks at him in surprise. “You grew it out? Your mum was fine with it?”
The only difference, really, between him and Clotted Cream is their hair length. Of course, Madeleine is clearly taller, he has nicer hair, and he holds himself differently. Confidently, he thinks, he tries to look confident. But the hair length is easiest to describe.
Grand Madeleine was surprisingly okay with it. His father, on the other hand, was.. not. Like a harlot, he had reprimanded. Like some lowlife. Not my son. He made him go through the training he had just done, not once, but twice more, without armor. And he had brought out the belt.
Madeleine's back still hurts when he puts on his paladin armor, fitted for him as commissioned by his mother.
He blinks. No. Not here. “Yeah,” he says.
Where was Espresso? He had left the boy under the silver cedar, back at the field, but that was hours ago. And it’s dark now. Had he gone back to the cabin?
Clotted Cream nods. Even though the boy is his friend, a good friend, by social standing at least, he never likes being quiet with him. With this boy, Madeleine needs to fill the silence. He didn't know what to say now. Thinking of his training always left him lost for words.
With Espresso, the quiet is easy and he didn't feel that urge to speak and fill up the room like usual. You could tell that Espresso enjoys silence.
And he felt guilty. Like he had to make up for those four years of not knowing the scrawny kid existed when he knew everyone else in camp.
“Here,” Clotted Cream taps him on the shoulder with his roasting stick. He hands him a s'more, properly made, according to Clotted Cream. “That's a real s'more. Perfect.”
Madeleine shoves the gooey mess of chocolate and cracker and marshmallow in his mouth. “Fanks,” he says, swallowing hard..
The other boy shakes his head. “Really,” he snorts.
“You snorted! You can't go on about manners!” Madeleine shoots back after he gets it all down.
“You haven't talked to me all day—you’re not even in my cabin! I reserve the right to scold you.”
They banter back and forth, the kind of noise Madeleine likes. As they talk and jab, he watches the co-counselors Fire Spirit and Moonlight talk animatedly. A few first timers chuck rocks into the blazing bonfire. Even Millennial Tree is sitting back and enjoying it.
Everyone is happy. Madeleine is happy.
Maybe not so happy.
Where is Espresso?
—
Espresso had spent the past few hours in the bathroom. The dark stone, the granite-tiled walls, the comforting coolness of it. He'd sat in a shower, water pummeling his back, until the water ran cold.
Now he lays on his bunk, arms crossed, watching the counselor and his co-counselor bicker. He's mildly amused. It beats any entertainment on his flip phone.
He feels in his pocket and frowns. Something is broken in there.
Espresso pulls out his cracked, black flip phone. It's split in half, hanging on by a wire. Probably from dodgeball earlier.
His flip phone is broken. Okay.
Okay. Maybe this year it'll be fine. He has something else to look at now and that something looks back for once.
“Lights out!” Wind Archer says from the center of the cabin floor.
“And yeah, I'd sleep pretty good because we've got a whole load of shit for you tomorrow,” Fire Spirit adds, his own blazing hair lighting the room orange. “Unless you plan to pull an all-nighter with illegally smuggled caffeinated contents. Or something like that.”
Several campers snort from their bunks. Wind Archer hisses. “Don't give them ideas, you intolerable—”
Fire Spirit smirks. “Yeah. I know. I'm so intolerably—”
“Shut up,” the counselor snaps, and turns out the lights. Another snicker around the whole cabin, bouncing off the stone floor.
Espresso is guilty of illegal caffeinated contents. Has been since his first time here; he just can't sleep. From his place on the bottom bunk, he reaches out for his duffel bag, feeling for the raised edges of his Coke cans. The caffeine keeps him awake and helps him ignore the aching in his stomach.
He hears creaking above him, in the bunk Madeleine had claimed. He grips the blanket tighter. What if it falls on him?
That wouldn't be so bad. If the bottom of the bunk broke.. if Madeleine rolled off.. right there…
No. Stop. He's just a pretty boy, he tells himself. He's a friend. Not something to dream about.
“Night,” the pretty boy says quietly, hanging his tan arm over the edge of his top bunk.
Espresso sits up and pops open a can of Coke as quietly as possible. “Night,” he mumbles, heart racing. He watches Madeleine's arm dangle.
You can't dream if you don't sleep.
But Espresso could daydream the whole night away, right here, listening to the pretty boy’s breathing.