Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

31 December 2009

Finally, the night had come. Constance had spent the whole morning helping her parents clean up in preparation for the sleepover, ecstatic that she’d get to have all her friends in one place again. She hadn’t had a sleepover here in a long time. She used to have them with Ocean or Noel all the time, but eventually they’d sort of grown out of it. Noel no longer needed to come here to get away from his father. Ocean had still come frequently, but she had eventually started showing up less and less whenever she got busy.

But things were different, now that she was connected to five people so deeply.

The last several weeks had been exhausting. It was all trials, convictions, therapy, and nightmares. They hadn’t slept in the same room since the night before Noel was discharged. That was their last night of anything resembling peace before everything kind of… exploded. The lawsuit, physical therapy, talk therapy, and custody battles took over everything. They called or texted one another when they could, but they mostly just sat silently together in court. No words could really comfort them as they listened to one another recount the event. Besides, who had the energy to talk through each recess? No, they just sat with whoever was at the trial that day and tried to relax.

They never really relaxed.

Documents were signed, evidence was shown, accounts were told over and over again. Before they could really focus on what was happening, almost everyone had a whole new situation to live in, and their lives would never be the same. But they changed forever the moment that axle broke the first time.

The holidays were their first real respite from that. Nobody bothered buying presents for one another, and everyone understood that it was not a priority. They just wanted to sleep through the rest of the winter and ignore how most of them were left restless and in constant pain. The holiday cheer was a buzz in the background as they figured out what to do with the settlement money and got used to their new lives.

The group had ordered pizza for dinner, letting the family have kitchen space tonight. Everyone was sitting either on the couch or on the floor, holding paper plates and watching Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. Ocean had never seen it, but Ricky had all but begged to watch it when he realized that was an option in the Blackwoods’ collection of DVDs. Constance figured that, after all these years, they owed him that. Besides, it was turning out to be really enjoyable.

Towards the end of the movie, Misha asked, “So are the cowboy and soldier gay?” The others snickered at the confusion on his face.

Noel reached over Misha for the bowl of popcorn in Penny’s lap, shrugging. “It’s not explicitly said, but the things they say and do are very, uh, homoerotic.”

“They went from being enemies to being best friends to being hopelessly in love,” Constance commented. Ocean turned her head to look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Tell me I’m wrong! Octavius literally tamed a squirrel and found the president to save him. Jedediah had a whole speech about their relationship prepared for his death. They fought side-by-side to protect one another!” The others turned around to look up at her, grinning.

Ocean shrugged. “That doesn’t make them gay. They were close friends."

Noel groaned. “You did not just say that. Connie has a point, Ocean. Besides, are you seeing the way those two interact? There’s nothing ‘friendly’ about it.”

Ocean watched as he reached over Misha, pressing close to his arm to get the popcorn from Penny. She almost commented on it to save her pride, but she decided not to this time. She’d quickly learned that she’d never win a debate with this group, and she was slowly giving in on more and more pointless arguments. “I just don’t see it.”

“Okay, but historically, the Romans were totally fine with gay couples existing,” Noel pointed out. “Octavius would totally have been bi-curious.”

“But Jedediah–”

Then again, it was too easy to bicker with Noel. And now, she got to do it every day.

“Got stupidly jealous when Octavius started swooning over Sir Lancelot’s blue eyes,” Noel interrupted. Ocean went quiet after a moment, completely unable to deny that interaction. Noel crossed his arms. “Look, I’m the group’s certified gay. So if I say it’s gay, it’s gay. It’s official.”

“You can’t do that. If the creators don’t say it–”

“The actors are totally feeding into it,” Noel pointed out. “Look at them, Ocean. Look at them and tell me–”

“Okay,” Constance said, squeezing Ocean’s hand and giving Noel a look. “Can we be quiet for the end of the movie?” Reluctantly, the pair agreed, looking back at the screen and dropping the argument.

They could always argue about it at… Well, it wasn’t really Ocean’s home. It was the Grubers’ home, but she was staying there. Ocean knew she was legally an adult now, but she still needed a place to stay. If that meant sleeping in the cream-colored, undecorated guest room, sharing a wall with her rival, and having to see and hear him every day, so be it. It just gave her more chances to give him constructive criticism on his cooking and movie choices.

She couldn’t believe how grateful she was that they were watching the absolute fever dream that was Night at the Museum and not Rocky Horror Picture Show, as Noel had originally suggested.

When the movie ended, Constance shut off the television and glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was already eight o’clock. She didn’t expect that everyone would go to sleep soon, but it was probably time to set up. She gently nudged Ocean off of her shoulder and stood up, nearly kicking Penny in the head. She apologized softly as she motioned to the archway to the hall. “I’m gonna get Dad to help bring our mattresses out. Noel, can you–”

He stood up and stepped over Misha and Penny. “Yep!”

Noel came back after only a moment, carrying Constance’s mattress. Constance quickly knelt down to push the coffee table to the side, quickly deciding to use her body instead of her wrists, as they flared with pain the moment she tried. Noel quickly dropped the mattress on the floor, looking up at the others. He frowned when he saw Penny’s stare, sadder than usual. “Hey… What’s on your mind?” he asked, gaining Constance’s attention as well.

“Death,” Penny told him softly. Noel frowned, unsure how to move on from that. Before he could ask, Scott came over and placed the second mattress, presumably Misha’s, on the other space on the floor. Everyone wiped their eyes, not willing to explain the nuances of why they were suddenly upset.

“Is that all you guys need?” Scott asked, looking around.

Constance stood up and hopped over the mattress to hug her father. He chuckled and hugged her back. “Nothing else, Dad. We’re good.”

“Alright. You can grab any more snacks from the kitchen. Just don’t be loud enough to keep Wesley awake, and have fun.” He gave Constance another squeeze before pulling away. He noticed her eyes shining and frowned. “You alright, Cece?” The others all looked up at her.

“Yeah,” Constance said. She wiped her eyes. “Just… I love you lots.”

Scott smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. A year ago, she would have shoved him away for trying to do that in front of her friends. Now, she didn’t dare. A little embarrassment was worth every second with him. “I love you more, Cupcake. Now, you all get to sleep at some point.” He winked at the group, offering a playful grin.

Then, Scott went upstairs, and the group was left alone. Constance, Penny, and Misha made a quick run for their blankets and pillows. Ocean and Noel had brought pillows, but they hadn’t felt like trying to pack away all their blankets. Ricky had just not even tried, knowing his bed was covered in far too much cat hair.

The girls went to Penny and Constance’s room to get changed. Constance had eagerly agreed to share her room as long as Penny was living here. Besides, it was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t her parent or a toddler. Constance did the laundry, Penny helped organize the room, and they kept each other company. Misha and Ezra had a similar arrangement in the once guest room– except neither of them seemed to have designated chores and just didn’t bother the other.

As Ezra was alone in said room, Misha, Noel, and Ricky got changed in the living room. Once they were finished and just waiting on the others, Noel sat back and smirked at Misha. “I assumed you’d be the type to sleep in your underwear.”

Misha snickered hard and sat on his mattress. “If I did that, Ocean would get grossed out and start screeching like a banshee,” he commented. Noel and Ricky snickered back at that, but stifled it just as the girls came back. Everyone got settled in quiet, the thought of death clinging to them still.

It always did. Now more than ever. When things got quiet– not just the living room, but their lives as everything settled down– the anxiety and lack of understanding and trauma got louder, like approaching thunder.

Nobody was crying, but nobody was really smiling. Ricky got the whole couch to himself this time, since Penny had gotten comfortable sitting on the mattress but leaning on the end of the couch. She tended to sleep sitting up, and only Ezra would know whether that was an actual quirk of hers or a result of the neck pain. Noel and Misha got their own space, and Ocean and Constance shared the foot of their mattress with Penny.

When all six were semi-comfortable, they sat together without talking. Noel leaned on Misha’s left side, looking around at the group. Ocean and Constance were holding one another, already shedding a few tears. Ricky looked down at Penny, slowly moving so that his head was near hers. She leaned a bit towards him as well.

“Let’s…” Misha paused as everyone’s eyes turned to him. “Let’s sleep. This is sleepover, no?”

Everyone smiled at him. He’d let his accent thicken towards the end, whether it was to cheer them up or because he was tired, it had lightened the mood. They all agreed, quietly saying goodnight and laying down. Around the same time, all six teens fell into a tense slumber.

___

Everyone gasped as they found themselves on the rollercoaster, climbing the hill again. Ocean gasped quickly, watching Uranium come into view. Instead of seeing every road and large building, she saw the lake and a few trees. Everything else was shrouded in a heavy and dark fog. “No…” Constance said, reaching for Ocean’s hand. Ocean took it and gripped it as hard as possible.

“Stop the ride, stop the ride!” Noel shrieked, pushing at the safety bar and scratching at the side of the cart. “No. No! Stop, stop!” His fist slammed down on it. “Someone stop the ride!”

Before anyone did, the cart dropped, taking them back on the Cyclone.

Six voices rang together as they zipped down the hill and over several small humps. Constance didn’t laugh, instead shrieking and trying to pull back. It did nothing to slow how she was thrown up and down.

The group flew forward on the track, towards one of the sets of speakers blasting music. Ocean felt the lyrics stab at her brain as they approached.

“– cold black cloud is comin' down. Feels like I'm knockin' on Heaven's door–”

The group flew away from the sound, and they were thrown up the track and tilted to the side. Misha glanced ahead at the corkscrew spin, feeling bile sting his throat as he screwed his eyes shut. The nausea was taking over him again, leaving him feeling terrified and violently ill.

The group sped through the spin, and they quickly shot back up. Misha felt like vomit was rising in his throat, but it came out as a bubble that hardened on his lips before shattering. He coughed when it was over, and looked over to see Noel staring at him in fright.

Colors flashed everywhere, bold and blinding. The cart zipped through a few circles, leaving the group dizzy. Noel could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and his ability to breathe was taken away for a moment.

Another bright flash, and then everything was black, and the track flattened out. The screams of the choir got twice as loud as they echoed in the tunnel.

“Рятуй мене, мамо!"

“Stop the ride!”

“Get me off!”

“NO!!”

“Help!”

“Save us!”

The sun tried to blind them when they launched out of the tunnel. The light glared through everyone's tears as they tried once more to escape the cart. Ocean and Constance yelled extra loudly as they felt a loud CRACK from beneath them.

Misha pounded his fist against the metal, sobbing dryly. “Ні, ні, ні. Не знову!”

Penny grabbed at Ricky, trying to hold on tightly. Tears poured out of her eyes without her blinking, and a high-pitched scream came from her without pause. Ricky seized his chance to grab onto her, bracing himself as the cart went up and back. The metal screamed and sparks shot out around them.

Then, they were off the track, angled to the side now. Almost everyone shut their eyes, the sensation flooding them vividly.

Total darkness, spinning black.

The cart spun violently, tossing the students in their seats, forces seemingly uncertain which way they should go.

Pushing forward, pulling back.

Penny's lap bar suddenly snapped at the hinges, opening up. She felt her whole grip suddenly vanish. “Penny!” She slipped through Ricky's hands. “Please, no!” They grabbed for her, but she was gone. She fell from view, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, the sound cut off and was replaced by loud cracking. Ricky screamed in horror and started crying, trying and failing to pull away from the cart.

Falling through the air–

Then, the cart slammed into the pavement. Ricky's safety bar suddenly snapped as well, hurling them out of the cart as it continued to tumble. He got a glance of the wreckage before he slammed into a rock, his spine snapping.

Noel and Misha saw Ricky get thrown, but couldn't respond as the cart tumbled forward. It hit something to the side multiple times, causing more of the safety bars to snap and bend. Unable to see exactly how, Noel and Misha felt themselves suddenly get run through. When the tumbling stopped, Misha looked up and around. No sight of Penny. Ricky was bent in ways no human should be, somewhere several meters from them. Ocean's lap bar came undone, and she tried to climb out, but her attempt was in vain. Her legs buckled in places that were not supposed to be joints, and she crumpled to the front of the cart. Another cracking sound. Constance's face was inverted, and she didn't move or make a sound. Misha looked down at Noel, seeing a bruised and bloody mess of a boy.

Noel's hand uselessly reached to the bar impaling them. Before he could attempt any sort of rescue, he coughed, and blood sprayed from his mouth.

“Mm… Misha…”

His hand fell limp before he could say another word, and he hung there.

Misha tried to take a breath to scream for help, but he felt something tear. He tensed and coughed up blood as well, shaking. The smell of everyone's blood hit him, and tears suddenly fell from his eyes. The hot, metallic scent made him want to wretch again. Before he had the chance, everything began to fade…

How can this be fair?!

___

1 January 2010

All at once, the six shot awake, sitting up and gasping or crying out. It quickly dawned on everyone that they were in the Blackwoods’ living room, and they went quiet, but the terror still rang through.

Noel glanced at the digital clock under the television. It was about one-thirty.

Misha looked around at the others, having to confirm that everyone was alive and intact. They were. His nightmares always convinced him otherwise. Why did they look so scared? Had he been screaming? Before Misha could apologize, Ocean burst into tears.

“That's the worst nightmare I've ever had,” she sobbed, reaching into her hair and tugging at it. “It was so– so vivid and aw– awful. It was so–”

Constance embraced her, sniffling herself. “I had one, too. I know. I’m here,” she tried to mutter. She shook as she stroked Ocean's hair. “It's okay.”

Penny, staring off at nothing, had tears streaming down her face. Misha shifted, and she looked up at him. The moment those stark green eyes hit him, he was scrambling up and rushing over to hold and ground her. Noel followed, but instead sat on the couch behind Penny, allowing Ricky to crawl into his lap and break down. Noel pulled him up and cradled him. When he started sobbing as well, Ricky wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tight. Noel’s ribs still ached ever so slightly, but the need for comfort hurt more.

“I died again,” Penny said. She leaned into Misha, who was now trying to rock back and forth with her. “The trees…”

Ricky's eyes went impossibly wide with shock. He’d never be allowed to forget that he’d failed to save her before. They sobbed and hugged Noel, not blinking for a moment.

“I tried to get up. I thought maybe this time I could make it,” Ocean muttered, hiccupping. “I didn't! I saw Constance all bloody and just–”

“I didn't see much of anything. I was just screaming and screaming and then my whole face hurt and I woke up,” Constance rambled, holding Ocean just a little bit closer. “It hurt so badly.”

“It was just like the first crash,” Misha agreed. “It was just like it, just more screaming.”

Ocean shut her eyes, squeezing out more tears. Everyone's broken descriptions fit together so well. It was scary. Ocean gasped and pushed back from Constance, looking at the others. It was scary how similar and vivid the dream was for everyone. How they'd all woken up in a panic at almost the exact same time.

“Did we all see the same thing?” Ocean asked, making everyone go silent. They stared at one another with wide and teary eyes, realizing with a start how horrifically uncanny the situation was beginning to look.

Chapter Text

1 January 2010

Everyone sat either on or up against the couch as they managed to calm down a little bit more. It had taken several minutes of broken discussion, since the teens were too upset to make it through more than about a word at a time, but they managed to put together what they had just experienced.

Yes, they had all experienced the same thing: a vivid and painful nightmare recounting their death.

Not one of them was a stranger to nightmares. They got them almost constantly, though some were worse than others. Some consisted of just suddenly being startled awake by a falling sensation, others contained disturbing images that only upon waking up did they realize were horrific, and the rest were made up of terror and the understanding of sensation. Never before had they felt it all again in such stark detail. Never before had it been so painful, frightening, and realistic.

Never before had they all shared the experience.

“What the hell?” Noel mumbled, squeezing Ricky, who was now his personal teddy bear, even tighter. Ricky leaned into Noel, the warmth and pressure helping to ground them as well.

Ocean would have muttered something about profanity, but she held herself back. Instead, she looked back at the others. “I didn’t even… I tried to… My legs wouldn’t…” She gave up on trying to say what was on her mind. Misha still saw it clear as day: a frail young woman broken and bloody.

“I’m just glad it was quick,” Constance muttered, one hand going up to her face, fingertips trailing along her scars. Her middle finger lingered on the one over the bridge of her nose. “I died so fast I never got to see anything much.”

“What?” Misha whispered, looking over at her.

Constance nodded. “Just like I said. I died before I could see anything. I hit the cart pretty much the instant we hit the ground." Misha felt nausea wash over him.

Penny shivered and clung to him. He tightened his good arm around her. “I can still feel it. My head hit the branches… That was the last thing I could remember,” she whispered. “I… I cannot…” She sniffed. “I cannot remember anything before the drop.”

Misha hushed her, kissing the side of her head and starting to rock her again. “Shh… Ви в порядку, Зелений. Я тримаю тебе.” She leaned into him, so he whispered to her in a less thick accent, “Zelenyy…” That seemed to help her relax at least a bit.

“So you did not dream after your death?” Misha asked, glancing at the group. There was a soft chorus of “no’s” and heads shaking.

So Misha was the only one who saw the rest. That meant that he alone had seen everyone die. The others hadn't been in the position or lasted long enough. The images of their disfigured corpses came back into his mind, and he squeezed Penny again. He was the only witness to that awful, awful display, and he wanted to keep it that way if he could.

“How come that's never happened before?” Ocean asked. The others hummed to acknowledge her, but they had no answers to offer.

“Maybe it only happens when we're all sleeping together?” Constance asked. Ricky and Noel both snickered, causing her to grin. Ocean groaned at them all. “Sorry…”

A beat. Misha slowly loosened his embrace of Penny. Ricky relaxed so that now he was curled halfway in Noel's lap, leaning on him. Noel held him securely, too shaken to try and let go anytime soon. Ricky couldn't mind at all, taking in the comfort as he racked his brain for answers.

There has to be some sort of explanation for why this is happening. It was too accurate to be a dream. It was too strong to be all in our heads. We all saw the same things. We were all in a memory together. Wait, was it a memory? None of us saw Penny fly out. I wasn't looking… This is more powerful and tangible than a memory. If we don't even have an explanation for how exactly we are alive, how are we supposed to explain what happened tonight?

That's when an idea hit them. Ricky sat up, having to struggle a bit against Noel's anxious grip. When Noel was facing him, he signed, ‘Can I have your phone?’

Confusion flickered on Noel's face, so Ricky was pretty sure he didn’t fully understand. Luckily, he got the point. “You need my phone?”

Ricky nodded.

I'm so glad you're at least able to pair a little knowledge of sign language with common sense. It helps so much now.

“Hold on, it's on the other side of the room,” Noel told him.

Constance quickly pulled hers out from under her pillow. “Can you use anyone's?”

Ricky nodded, taking the phone, opening a blank note, and hurriedly starting to type. The others fell quiet after that, only letting out the occasional sniffle or whimper as a vivid image came back to their minds. Just as Ricky prepared to turn the phone around, the group heard a door open. Quiet footsteps approached and suddenly stopped.

Everyone looked up to see Ezra standing there, curly hair messy from sleep and glasses messily put on. He stared at all of them for a moment, and they stared back, trying to act like nothing was going on.

However, between the red faces, puffy eyes, and the fact that every few seconds, someone sniffled or hiccupped, there was no convincing this kid that nothing was wrong.

Ezra looked between all of them before suddenly turning, going to the kitchen, and flicking on the light. Nobody spoke, just listening to Ezra's movements. It seemed better to wait. The faucet turned on and then off within a moment. He left the kitchen without shutting off the light, holding a glass of water. Constance almost got up to turn it off herself, but Ezra held a hand up to stop her. They went back into the kitchen, opened and closed a cabinet, fumbled with something plastic, and then came back out. He set the pitcher with the water filter on the coffee table, accompanied by six plastic cups. Then, they ran back into the kitchen and came back out with a large Tupperware and several paper plates, this time finally shutting off the light. They dropped the container on the coffee table, nodded curtly to the group, and retreated to theirs and Misha's room. All without uttering a word.

Constance let go of Ocean, which took a moment, and crawled over to the table. Misha left his station by Penny's side to go help. After a moment, everyone was sipping a glass of water and eating still-soft chocolate chip cookies. While the snack did nothing to fix whatever it was that was wrong with them, it did help them all calm down.

Penny was the first to speak softly after a while. “He's a good brother.” Everyone else nodded. “I got lucky with him.” Constance and Misha nodded in agreement, subtly scooting closer to Penny.

“What were you going to show us, Ricky?” Noel eventually asked. Ricky seemed to remember just then, grabbing Constance's phone. They had her unlock it before showing everyone the note.

[What if whatever is causing these dreams is the same reason we came back to life? After all, didn't Karnak say that he only had the power to bring back one of us? There was a moment that we all felt stuck in our dead bodies. What if he really didn't have the power to bring us back? What if there was a confounding variable? Beyond that, there has to be some sort of explanation for the sentient fortune teller. Not only could he predict the exact circumstances of a person's death, but he could hold our souls and resurrect us. There's something else here, and I want to know what it is. Even if we accept the magical novelty machine without question, there's still the understanding that he only had the power to revive one of us. How, then, are the six of us alive? How did we essentially go back in time and ride the Cyclone again? How are we sharing ONE chance at life? Even allowing magic, it doesn't make sense. That nightmare just proved that there is something beyond our understanding at play. I want to understand. Do you?]

Ocean looked up at Ricky, guilt plucking at her heart. She had never credited him enough for what went on inside his head. He had so much to say, more than any of them. Why was he the one without the ability to speak? How was that fair?

When everyone had read over the note, Ricky let Constance have her phone back and leaned into Noel's side again. For a minute or two, everyone pondered it. Then, Penny said, “I want to know if I can remember my life. I don't know if this is because of a brain injury or magic. I want to remember my childhood.” Constance hugged her with one arm.

Ocean looked up at Ricky. “How would we even do that? It's not like there are books on this. Websites, maybe, but those are far less reliable sources. It's not like we can find a primary source, you know. Karnak is sort of dead,” she said quietly, hugging herself by the end.

Ricky shrugged, eyes unfocused as he desperately tried to think of a solution.

Constance took a bite of her cookie, and the only sound for a moment was her chewing.

“We could…” Misha started. All eyes turned to him. He swallowed, realizing that he now had to finish out loud. “We could double-check.”

“Are you saying you think he's alive?” Noel asked.

Misha shrugged. “Eh, I dunno. Maybe it's worth a look? We are alive, can he not be?”

“He's not supposed to be alive in the first place, Misha. He's a machine,” Ocean retaliated.

“Shut up, ginger, unless you have better idea.” Ocean flushed and looked down, deciding to take another bite of her cookie instead of responding. “That is what I thought,” Misha muttered.

“So…” Constance looked around. “Do you… Do you want to go back to the warehouse?”

Absolutely everyone tensed up. They didn't know if they could bring back that moment in their lives, or rather, afterlives, without breaking down. Still…

“It's… an idea,” Noel admitted. “I hate it, but it makes sense.”

“Is going to an abandoned warehouse safe?” Ocean asked upon swallowing her cookie.

Constance shrugged. “Neither was riding the Cyclone, but I made you guys do that anyway.”

“I…” Ocean sighed. “We can look for answers there.”

“So… We're going back to the warehouse?” Penny asked. Everyone slowly nodded.

“Sounds like fun,” Misha said. “Corey, Alex, and I used to love exploring abandoned places. There are many empty houses outside main part of town.”

“How is Corey?” Noel asked softly. “I haven't heard from him since he graduated."

“He is good,” Misha said. He smiled. “Actually, there is great news. He is coming to Uranium in a couple weeks. He will take his inheritance and maybe leave again. We want to meet.”

“That's nice. Glad he's doing well,” Noel said, lying down on the couch. Ricky didn't object this time, carefully shifting so he was against the back of the couch. In an awkward shuffle, they made it so that Noel faced away from Ricky, but Ricky could hug Noel, essentially spooning him. The significant height difference made it awkward, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Constance quickly set their crumb-covered plates and cups on the coffee table before moving back to cuddle up next to Ocean again.

“Who is Corey?” Penny asked.

Misha smiled warmly. “A good friend of mine. He is, ah, twenty? Yes, he is twenty. He left town for school last year.” Misha moved back to his mattress, alone now that Noel was up with Ricky. He got comfortable, still looking over at Penny. “He is very fun, has lots of passion.”

Noel hummed, then he said, “Yeah… I think Corey was a huge part of my gay awakening.”

“What?” Constance asked, sounding more awake again.

“I knew I liked boys more for a long time, but it didn't register with me as ‘gay’ until I developed a crush on Corey,” Noel explained.

“And when, exactly, was that?” Ocean asked, as though interrogating a suspect.

Noel scoffed. “Middle school.”

“He got held back the year we were all in middle school. Also, he is way older,” Ocean accused.

“He is two years older than me, grow up,” Noel snipped.

After that, the topic was dropped. There was some silence, and, for a moment, Misha wondered whether everyone was asleep or just silent. He rolled over and glanced at the analog clock. It was almost three in the morning. “Anyone awake?” Misha called softly.

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Me too.”

“Hm?”

Misha took a deep breath. “Are we agreed? We go to warehouse soon?”

“Mhm.”

“That's the plan.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

“Yeah…”

“Okay.”

Misha ended up rolling closer to the other mattress, right next to Constance. She didn't complain, even smiling a little bit.

Ocean rolled to her other side so that her weight was more on her left leg than her right, which was starting to deeply ache again. It would ruin the moment if she asked Constance for pain killers, and her leg hurt too much to get it herself. She’d just deal with it. Rolling over did distance her from Constance, but that was fine. Constance probably didn’t even notice.

Ocean’s eyes did, however, quickly overflow with tears as she thought of that, but she stayed silent.

Chapter Text

Noel opened his eyes to a sunny day, feet on soft grass. The sunlight had him blinking a few times before he could see anything. Until then, he took in the warmth of the sun and inhaled the crisp air. This was just the kind of day on which he’d go to the park with Constance and Ocean when they were little.

When he looked around, the pleasantness vanished. He stood in front of a coffin that had been left half open. The body inside was his own, left there in a black sweater, stitches on the head barely covered by his bangs. Noel stared quietly for a moment, somehow unable to feel horrified or disgusted. He just stared, wondering why his body was clad in his favorite sweater and why anyone would let him wear that to his final resting place. He gazed down at himself, hating how… peaceful he looked. Why should he look peaceful? He hadn’t died peacefully. He’d died painfully, desperately trying to seek out comfort from the nearest person. From Misha. Where was Misha?

Loneliness suddenly made Noel’s whole being feel cold, and he spun around to search for Misha, craving that comfort he’d missed out on when they died. His eyes widened when he saw nothing at all. His coffin sat there, open, and not a person stayed.

“Misha?” Noel asked loudly, wrapping an arm around himself. He brought up the other hand to bite his thumb. “Misha?!” Nothing. His breathing picked up, and he looked around desperately. He was in the cemetery, and not a single person was there. He turned back to his coffin and saw it in a hole, dirt just falling on top of it. Noel gasped and stepped back, shaking his head. “Misha!” If he was dead, Misha had to be, too. He needed to be held and squeezed. He needed the Ukrainian’s pressure and comfort, because right now, he felt wildly untethered.

Why was nobody here? His body was being buried, so why was nobody there to witness or cry? Surely, there had to be someone who was grieving him. If nobody else, his mother had to. He spun again, searching for his mother, at least! Where was she? She had to come to his funeral! He was all she had…

“Maman?” Noel called into the warm day, but his voice sounded like that of a child. He started walking, the soles of his feet silent on the crunchy leaves as he made his way out of the cemetery.

He hugged himself as he made his way back to his house, hoping his mom would have split pea soup on the table for him. That had to be why she wasn’t here. Where was she? He just wanted his mom. The houses and bushes grew taller around him, and everything felt colder. It took him twice as long to make it down the block of his house than it had any of the others. The leaves now crunched under his small feet as he reached up to open the door.

When he pushed his way inside, he just knew his mom wasn’t in there. Instead, a man in a stained white tank top sat in the living room, drinking a gross-smelling can of something. When he saw Noel, he suddenly roared and stood up, towering over him. Noel sobbed and tried to back away, but the man grabbed him and lifted him to his eye level. Noel screamed and kicked uselessly.

“I liked it better when you were dead,” his father sneered, spitting beer on his face. Noel whined and started to cry as he wiped it. His father looked to the side and shouted, “Are you sure this sissy won’t turn into a fag, Carolyn?”

“Maman!” Noel screamed, grabbing at his father’s hand and sobbing. “Daddy, stop!”

He was then smacked in the left side of his head as hard as possible. Noel was thrown to the floor, and his head slammed into the metal of the cart. He blinked and found himself back in the house. Confused, he tried to call out for someone he knew could help here. “Misha!”

“Who’s Misha?!” his father bellowed. “You have a boy now? I told you he’d be a fag.” His father spat on Noel again, quickly walking to the kitchen, where a shorter woman shook in fright. Noel stood up, now old enough to stand at least an inch above the man. He went to pull him away, but the woman spoke up.

“Yes, dear, I knew it. I’m just as ashamed as you.” She glared at Noel and stepped back from him. “I wish I hadn’t been left with you.” Noel looked around, and he realized that his father was gone. He reached for his mother, tearing up, but she shrieked and stepped away. “No, I wished I’d left you to die.”

She turned to walk away, a shadow falling over her face. Noel tripped as he tried to run for her, and he landed in the dirt. When he twisted to look up, he saw his father shoveling dirt onto him. Noel brushed it off and tried to stand up, panting and begging under his breath. His father slacked him in the head with a shovel, and he collapsed back in his grave.

___

Constance banged on the front door to her house, sobbing as she tried to break it down. “Please let me in!”

“Why should we?” her mother called back, voice more sour than straight lemon juice. Constance sniffed and tried the knob again, but it didn’t budge. “You didn’t want us; why should we want you back?”

Constance shook her head and shoved at the door. “Sorry!”

“That won’t cut it, Constance,” her father said more coldly than a blast chiller. “You’re worth nothing to us anymore.”

“Please, please, let me in!” Constance cried, becoming more desperate as she began to remember why she needed to get in. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be better!”

“You should have done that before you died. You can’t just come back and try to be happy when you tried to make everyone around you miserable,” her mother said. She knocked back on the door.

Constance shook her head, desperately tugging the door knob. “No! Sorry, sorry!”

“No, you’re not!” her mother screamed.

“You don’t love us; why should we love you?” her father asked.

“I didn’t mean any of it. I’m not perfect. I– I can make it better. I can make it better!”

“You should be perfect! If you were, none of this would be a problem in the first place.”

Constance sobbed. They were right. She needed to be more like Ocean. If she was more motivated, more dedicated, skinnier, prettier, smiled more, was more outgoing, or had more self-respect, she’d be better. Ocean was as perfect as a teenager could get. She was everything Constance wished she was. The closest she would ever come to that was supporting Ocean and staying in the edge of her spotlight.

“Please, I’ll be perfect! I’ll look perfect, act perfect, behave perfect, study perfect, just let me in!”

“You deserve what you’re getting.” her father spat at her. “You put yourself in this mess; why should we pull you out?”

The door handle suddenly ticked green, and she pulled it before she realized where she was now. She fell in, sobbing in fear. Rough hands grabbed her, and the moment she was sitting on something plastic, the hands tore her clothes off. The nails left scratches and bruises in their wake, too eager to check on her.

At least she wasn’t tied up, being hit, or being drugged. She pulled herself back, assuming it was okay then. She wanted this, didn’t she? She wanted to do something to prove she wasn’t perfect, because if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t pretend. She gasped against the smell of chemicals and gagged. She pressed herself against the wall and shut her eyes, but the image of two skeletons was trapped under her eyelids.

Constance waited, ignoring the feeling as everything became smelly and sticky and painful. When it was over, she was dropped down. She fell, screaming, and landed in the mostly blue mush and liquid. She suddenly puked from the smell.

“Cece?”

Constance bowed her head as she began to cry again, her tears dark blue, staining her cheeks, chin, and neck.

“Cece?”

Constance gasped and shook her head. “Wesley, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Wes!”

“Then why are you sad?” A little boy walked over from behind her, and he suddenly screamed when he saw Constance. She wasn’t sure if he knew what she had done, but he was acting like he did. He just kept on screaming, running away into the darkness. She reached after him, but she suddenly sank into the mess of piss, shit, and toilet paper, shrieking.

___

Everyone stood from the accident, their forms now translucent and flowing. Misha felt nothing but pain in his body as he tried to get up with them. The others left their bodies, feet not quite touching the ground and eyes not quite seeing their surroundings. They sort of floated away from the carnage, meeting near the cart. Penny pulled on her messy braids, forcing her head to stay on her crooked body. Misha tried to get up and join them as the sky turned white. He was stopped by the weight of Noel on his arm and the metal in his chest. Misha gasped and screamed, but more blood came out than sound.

The others didn’t seem to hear.

He didn’t want to be left behind. Misha took a few agonizing breaths and tightened both hands on the metal scraps of a safety bar. He cried out in pain when he pulled and it didn’t budge. He gripped it until his knuckles turned white, but his palms turned red with the blood pouring from his stomach.

Slowly, the others reached up to the white sky, faces relaxing with peace and acceptance. Misha was still in his body, hurting and watching. He didn’t want to be alone. He had to die with them. He cared about them so deeply. He had two real friends left in life, including Talya. His mother was on the other side, though. Ricky, Noel, Constance, Penny, and Ocean were going to the other side. Misha didn’t want them to die without him there to protect them from whatever was out there.

No.

Finally, the bar cracked under his touch, and he yanked it from his body. He freed himself from the cart, coughing up blood.

Misha got up and went to chase them, but he froze when he found himself in front of a small house, staring at the window. He gasped, seeing his face rotting away in front of him. His cheek was hollow, but one side of his forehead was swollen. He watched skin fall away as the color of bruises and puss filled the rest. He scratched at his face, but that only made the sickness take hold more quickly. He shook his head, screaming as he tried to pull off the swollen parts or push them to the parts that were losing mass.

“Ні... Мамо!” Misha screamed and ran out of the door, and he was met with the freezing air. He darted around the village, feeling his face fall apart. He looked all over, but the village was empty. Every house was dark, cracking. Every chair was empty, toys were left on the ground in front of doors, and plates of пірошки gathered mold and maggots on tables. He could smell everything rotting. “Мамо, допоможи мені! Мені потрібна ваша допомога!”

Nothing.

Misha ran until he found the sea, and he crashed into the water, letting it sting his skin as he tried to wash his face. Instead, his flesh continued to fall into his hands. He screamed and tried to get it off, but it spread onto his fingers.

“Мамо де ти? Чому ти не прийдеш мені допомогти?” Misha teared up as his flesh fell off of his arms, but the skin on his neck began to swell up. “Ти сказав, що завжди піклуватимешся про мене. Ти сказав, що захистиш мене. Ти сказав, що завжди будеш зі мною.”

Misha scratched at his arms, the pain becoming too much. As it spread across his chest, he began to tear at that until blood gathered under his nails. He watched the blood drip into the water, and he had his eyes trace back up. The blood was now coming from his arm, which had been cut repeatedly with a small razor. He held it in his other hand. Misha gasped and tried to dip his arm to wash it off, but the one holding the razor suddenly went weak. He dropped it and felt himself sinking. If his mother wasn’t here, who would help? His arms hurt too much to keep afloat any longer than to scream for it.

___

Ricky watched as Noel and Ocean walked off together. Misha, Penny, and Constance went in the other direction. Ricky stayed put at their door, quiet. When everyone disappeared, they turned and walked back inside, their cane tapping on the wood of the hallway and not making a sound. He sat down on his bed, causing a few cats to shift. They leaned against the headboard and stared ahead, staying still and silent as the room got darker.

The loneliness suddenly started surrounding them on all sides, inescapable. But it wasn’t something that crushed. Ricky would never understand why people referred to loneliness as “crushing.” It didn’t crush or compress or make them feel trapped. Loneliness was the absence of people, warmth, touch, voices, and interaction. It was the absence of feeling human. It was now the absence of oxygen and air pressure.

The only oxygen came from the tube around his face, keeping them alive as their body tried to drag them down. They couldn’t move their head. They tried to move their hands, but they were grabbed by shadows as the room went dark. Ricky groaned, but it was too quiet.

Where were their parents? They were supposed to take care of him. They were supposed to take care of him. They were supposed to take care of him. Ricky couldn’t go get them, and he couldn’t call for them. He just had to hope that they came to check on him soon.

Their body felt like it was expanding and freezing, luckily more slowly than it should have been. The sudden lack of pressure should be causing their entire body to swell until they broke apart. Their skin was growing tight and taught, ready to tear apart. Everything was cold, and their blood felt like it was bubbling. Ricky whined in pain; there was nothing to hold them together now. There was nobody here. They were going to die of loneliness, a mess that couldn’t drag themself to safety. He sobbed silently, feeling everything swell and become wildly uncomfortable.

Just as he thought it was over, he felt a warm weight in his lap. He looked down to see Galactus pawing at him. They smiled and curled their legs up to bring Galactus closer, letting the cat nuzzle his face. The pressure slowly came back to them, and their blood and body returned to normal. They sighed in relief, still floating in the darkness. However, they pulled their arms free and hugged Galactus to their chest.

He floated for a moment, snuggling their cat and humming contentedly. That’s all he needed. He just needed his cats. He just needed this cat, because Galactus had been with him all this time. He’d been young when they adopted him; barely two years old. Ricky had just lost his voice for good, and they needed crutches most days. Galactus had a similar diagnosis, and Ricky knew they needed one another. When he had nothing else, he had Galactus to cuddle. They shared one another’s pain. They shared everything.

Ricky clung to him as they fell through the darkness aimlessly. When they saw light, there was a ship above them. Ricky blinked and stared at it, gasping softly when he recognized a simple space saucer.

It was covered in blinking lights of all sorts of colors, emitting a loud purring noise. Ricky smiled. Galactus turned to see, his fur sticking up from the static of Ricky’s sweater. He meowed quietly, one paw reaching up.

Then, a beam of light blue was cast on the pair. Ricky reached up towards it excitedly, expecting to be taken by it. Instead, Galactus was slowly pulled from his arms, floating away. Ricky waited for the same, but it didn’t happen. Galactus was just moving farther. Ricky was staying.

Ricky’s breath hitched, and he uncurled himself to try and move closer. He didn’t get any closer. He put his hand on Galactus’ fur, hoping he could convince him not to go. Not without him.

But Galactus just meowed sadly, taking one look at Ricky before the saucer pulled him closer, and Ricky’s fingers brushed the end of his tail.

Ricky felt the pressure leave again, and everything swelled in the worst ways. His blood bubbled, his tears froze, and his skin tore.

He motioned weakly to try and grab Galactus, feeling the loneliness destroy him. This wasn’t supposed to happen! He had Galactus. They’d gone through this life together. Where was he going without him?!

Ricky felt the cold of outer space get to him, and the light left his eyes just as Galactus boarded the ship.

___

She stood in the darkness.

She heard nothing.

She saw nothing.

She felt nothing.

She was nothing.

She was nobody.

She had nobody.

She remembered nothing.

She remembered nobody.

In the distance, there were voices calling a name she didn’t recognize. There were faces crying that she didn’t recognize. She just knew that she missed them, whoever they were.

Everything was weightless.

Her voice rang through like a high note, even as she shrieked.

It echoed, but nothing called back.

She touched her face, feeling the cracks across her porcelain.

She dipped her fingers into the holes that she could somehow see through. There was nothing there, just like there was nothing in her mind, memory, or heart. Were the eyes the window to the soul? Perhaps, because she had no eyes there, and she had no discernable soul to look into.

“Hello?”

“Penny?”

She looked down at her tanned hands, the nails of which were picked and bitten and raw. She felt tears dribble out of the holes in her face.

“I don’t know…”

___

Ocean grabbed onto the track, trying to pull herself up as the cart fell and crashed on the ground below her. She looked up, trying to adjust her grip so she didn’t fall. She felt the sweat on her hands try to kill her, but she refused. Desperate, she looked up at the others, who were brushing one another off and checking for injuries.

Ricky was busy doting over Noel as they sat on the underside of the track, making sure he wasn’t bleeding before fussing with his hair to fix it. Constance and Misha were gently helping put Penny’s head back on, Constance holding her steady as Misha pushed it back onto her neck. Ocean didn’t dare ask for help from them, instead trying to pull herself up. She whined as her arms burned and her fingers slipped. She quickly adjusted her grip again and looked up again. “Uhm…”

“Stop making it all about yourself for once,” Constance said bitterly, fixing Penny’s hair.

Ocean shook her head. “I– I’m not trying to, but–”

“Shut up, little orphan a-hole,” Misha spat, guiding Penny to sit down as they all waited for help.

Ocean gulped and looked down at the wreckage, hoping her bones wouldn’t make the same noise that it had. She had to be hanging hundreds of feet in the air. Ocean looked back up as she felt her hands slipping.

“Guys!”

Ricky glared at her sharply and turned his head away, going back to Noel.

Ocean sobbed softly and shook her head. “I won’t talk at all. I won’t even look at you guys if you want!” She felt her arms start to give out. “Just help me up!”

Penny just stared at her blankly, uncaring.

Noel scoffed and firmly said, “I would never vote for you.”

Ocean suddenly slipped, and she was reaching for the track the whole way down, but all she could really do was await the ground.

Instead, she landed on the floor of her old bedroom. She immediately covered her mouth and nose, overwhelmed by the sudden smell of weed and human filth. She forced herself to stand and walk out of the room, stumbling from how little air she was letting herself get. She reluctantly plugged her nose and took each breath through her mouth instead, certain she was tasting it. She clutched the railing as she descended the stairs.

The stench was only faint when she arrived at the bottom; because, instead of the smokey living room, Ocean found herself in the courtroom. She looked around, seeing a small jury and her classmates. She slowly walked to her seat, head bowed as she watched Nurse Gruber fight with her parents.

The others were around her, and they moved away in disgust. She shrank in on herself, not wanting to bother them anymore that she already had. If Noel had had his way, Ocean would be dead in the ground, unburied and unremembered.

I would never vote for you.

She didn’t blame him one bit.

When the adults stopped fighting, everyone looked content. They were unfit parents, but they’d signed her away willingly in exchange for a lighter sentence. They didn’t even fight. She stood up and rushed after them, tearing up.

“Why did you give me up?!” she shouted. She stomped her foot. “If I was good to anyone, I was good to you! If I ever put anyone before myself, it was you! You were awful parents, but I gave you a clean house and made sure the bills got paid!”

They slowly turned to look at her.

“Why don’t you love me?!” Ocean shouted, eyes flooding with tears. They spilled over with her next words. “Despite everything, I loved you! I was supposed to do better than you and make sure you were taken care of one day.”

“It’s just easier. You won’t let yourself be happy, so you’re weighing us down,” her mother said. “You do it to everyone.”

“But I–”

“You’re not even mine,” her father said. “Go live with the other vibe-killers. Let them poison you like you want.”

They yawned, allowing faceless people in uniforms to escort them out. Ocean fell to her knees, sobbing. It took mere seconds for Carolyn Gruber to appear in front of her, offering a small, pitying smile. Ocean stood with her, avoiding the cold and unloving gaze of Noel. As they walked out and to the car, Noel leaned over and whispered so his mother wouldn’t hear: “I would never vote for you.”

“I… I wouldn’t either.”

___

15 January 2010

Everyone shot up in a sweat at the same time, emotions high and storming. Tears started streaming, and they broke down all over again.

They were in the Grubers’s living room, safe and sound. Why, then, did it feel like they were dying all over again? Why, then, did they still feel the fear of missing the track? Why, then, were they still thinking of the worst things that could happen?

Penny gasped loudest, suddenly moving away and grabbing at the coffee table to stand up.

Constance seemed to be pulling out of her own state, looking at the brunette. “Penny? Penny!”

“Penny?!”

Everyone stared at the girl in question when she repeated her name in the form of a question. They all seemed shocked out of being upset, more focused on the utter confusion and distress in her eyes. Misha reached a hand out to her, but she pulled away, screaming.

“Who I am…? Who I am…? Who I am?!”

Her fingers fluttered like moths, one hand moving to touch the back of her neck and the other clutching her hair. She stumbled and fell to her knees, gasping uncontrollably. She tugged at the hair harshly, as if it was blocking the memories from her head.

“Oh why, oh why, oh why, oh why?!”

Ricky sat up, frowning at her.

Penny? What’s wrong? You’re just repeating yourself. You sound like you did in the warehouse. This isn’t normal. Do you not remember anything? This isn’t good. Do we need to get you to the hospital? Look at me and tell me you remember something. Spit something out. Penny, look at me.

Ricky let out a weak whimper, trying to get her attention. She did look up at him, and he gave her an expression of pure concern. She pulled again at her hair, making her whine in discomfort.

What’s going on? Do you recognize me, us, where we are? Do you recognize yourself?

Penny gasped a few more times before her green eyes shifted. Her hand tugged even harder, and she cried out. Tears spilled out before they had a chance to gather, and she blurted out, “Ricky?”

He nodded, smiling softly.

That’s me. You can recognize me. Can you recognize the others? Can you recognize yourself? Do you know when and where we are? We’re safe. I’m here for you. You’re safe. We’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Penny moved a little closer to the mattress as Misha guided her. Constance hushed her as she gently removed Penny’s hand from her hair. Several strands came out, the braids now a gross mess. Noel got up and quickly went down the hall. Penny pulled the hair ties out of Penny’s hair, making the panicking girl whimper.

Ricky wished he had Galactus here to comfort her.

He suddenly wished he had Galactus here to comfort him.

Penny started muttering frantically, and Misha and Constance nodded and whispered to her. Misha rubbed her back as Constance undid her braid. Ricky started moving closer, awkwardly shifting off of the couch and crawling across the mattress. Noel came back just as Ricky settled in front of them. He took Penny’s hands and rubbed them with his thumbs, firm yet careful. She sniffled and mumbled, but he just smiled and made hushing sounds. When Noel started brushing her hair, she winced and whimpered like an injured puppy. Constance rubbed her arm, Misha hummed, and Ricky squeezed her hands a little more.

“My name is Penny?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

She was quiet after that, eyes falling as she flinched every time her messy hair was brushed. Noel quietly promised to hurry up, but his brush got caught over and over again.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair, girl?” he whispered, laughing softly. Penny didn’t laugh– just whined. Noel looked at the ends of her hair, muttered, and kept going through it. He put it back into two braids, Constance handing him Penny’s hair ties.

“Is she okay?” Ocean asked, making herself known for the first time since anyone arrived. She wasn’t looking at them, which made Misha and Noel subtly roll their eyes. Ricky glared at them briefly for it.

“We’ve got her,” Constance said, glancing at her friend only briefly before going back to rubbing Penny’s arm. “She’ll be okay.” Penny shook her head just a little.

Misha looked up, hand firmly on Penny’s shoulder.

“That is it. Tomorrow, we go to that damned warehouse.”

Chapter Text

16 January 2010

Constance got permission to use her parents’ car. She had told her parents that they all wanted to go to the mall together. All she had to do was promise to be safe, keep an eye on Penny and Misha, and be back home before dinner.

Not long before noon, Constance, Misha, and Penny left the house. They picked up Ricky first, which took a bit because nobody answered the door for several minutes. Misha had had to go around and knock on Ricky’s bedroom window to get their attention. They made a quick trip to grab Ocean and Noel, who were bickering when Noel opened the door.

“For Christ’s sake, Ocean, it’s not a big deal,” Noel said as he stepped away from the door. “We are going to be walking at the edge of the forest.”

“They’re not fun to work with!” Ocean fussed, leaning on the counter as she put a few small things in her purse. Noel scoffed. “Besides, there’s probably not enough room in the car.”

“There’s plenty of room, now grab them and let’s go,” Noel countered, rolling his eyes. “Do you want to come with or not, because I will leave y–”

“Okay, fine!” Ocean walked down the hall to the guest room and came back out struggling with a pair of crutches. She’d insisted on using the armpit crutches from the hospital for a long time, but it quickly became clear that her leg was not going to heal all the way. She had been hesitant to get any permanent aids until Ricky convinced her otherwise. He’d actually written an eloquent essay on the subject, drawing in sources and anecdotes. Ocean was convinced a little less than halfway through to just get forearm crutches, since she realized they’d be more comfortable for her to use every day. However, out of respect for a fellow scholar– and to prove she had that respect– Ocean had finished reading the essay aloud in front of him. Ricky seemed so proud of himself, and he even offered to help her learn.

She didn’t want help, but it was touching.

Ocean’s crutches were silver and bland, which she insisted was just about being neat and fitting for many occasions. Ricky thought the decision was boring, but he wasn’t going to argue the case– yet, at least. He was just happy Ocean was consenting to make it more comfortable for herself.

Misha watched in awe and concern as Ocean and Noel managed to bicker about seemingly everything in the span of thirty seconds. It started with whether she had to bring the crutches and soon blended into whether Noel needed to gel his hair that morning or which shoes were appropriate to wear. It was like arguing was a messed up language that the two were fluent in.

Looking down at Constance, Misha asked, “Have they always been like this?”

Constance sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Not always. Only, like, since we were eight?”

“So basically?”

“I– Uh– Yep, basically.”

When Noel and Ocean finally got out of the door, they had immediately set themselves into a bad mood. Constance groaned, trying to think of the quickest way to split them up while in the same van. “Okay. Noel, you’re my shotgun,” Constance told him. Misha tried to object, but Constance gave him a stern look and shook her head. Penny and Misha ended up climbing into the back row so that Ricky and Ocean didn’t have to. Ocean got buckled up, setting her cane at her feet. Ricky glanced down at it and gave her a light smile. She smiled back, but she quickly looked out the window instead. Ricky sighed, deciding to give her some space. For a moment, he felt like Ocean was upset with him, but quickly realized that he was not the object of her ire today.

“Can you not put your feet on my seat?” Noel asked.

Ocean groaned. “They’re not on your–”

“Misha!” Constance said rather loudly, holding up the AUX cord. “Hey, Misha, why don’t you put on some music?”

Misha jumped on the opportunity, quickly leaning forward to plug in his phone, turning on something by Macklemore, and upping the volume. Noel and Ocean instantly regretted bickering as they were forced to listen to Misha’s taste in music for almost fifteen minutes. The service and Wi-fi not far outside of Uranium was notoriously awful, so Misha’s music stopped working. Ocean silently breathed a sigh of relief when it stopped between songs.

Then, the ride was awkwardly quiet. Now that rap music wasn’t numbing them, they realized that they were drawing closer and closer to having to face their still-painful trauma.

“So…” Misha tried to restart the conversation. The others awkwardly looked at him, Constance’s eyes only flickering to the mirror. “What’s the plan?”

They really hadn’t gotten that far. Normally, Ocean would have insisted that they have a solid game plan before getting in the van to go to the warehouse. However, everyone was just itching to do something. They needed to do something that wasn’t just sitting around the house, talking to one another, or playing games. They needed to move a little more, get out into the cold air, and spend time together that wasn’t completely quiet. They needed to do something about what was happening to them, because the nightmares had to stop. They had to do something to prevent vivid relapses of the accident happening. They had to do something to figure out how and why they were even alive now. They hadn’t stopped to think how that was even possible.

“We search for clues,” Ocean suggested quietly. “We should look at the machine, if it’s still there.”  The others nodded. Constance glanced back at Ocean before she focused on the road once again. Ocean noticed this. “Do you guys have any other ideas?”

That surprised them all. The words were completely normal. What threw them off was the tone. It wasn’t said in a smug, selfish, or demeaning way. It was a genuine request for input. Noel looked back at her in pure shock. Ocean glanced away from him, not surprised, but nevertheless stung by it.

I would never vote for you.

Constance shrugged. “I think that’s a good place to start. We can go from there, right?”

“What are we looking for?” Noel asked.

“Anything that is not normal,” Penny suggested. “Symbols, markings, or magic.”

“What does magic even look like?” Ocean asked, glancing back at the girl.

“A bright white and blue light,” Penny told her.

The image flashed brightly before Ocean. She recalled that brief moment she had considered walking into that very light to live again. Alone. Glancing around at the group, she found herself so glad that they were all alive too, but so hollow knowing she had been a step away from taking that from them.

Ricky signed something, but Ocean had little clue what it meant. He signed ‘we’ and a few other things she didn’t fully comprehend, and then finger-spelled something, but she only recognized a ‘K.’

When nobody replied, Ricky signed again, and Misha spoke with him this time. ‘We should look at K-a-r-n-a-k.’

“Karnak…” The name filled Ocean with dread. The feeling was quite reminiscent of the one she’d had moments before they’d died. She’d felt something wrong with the cart the moment they got in. If it wasn’t for how excited Constance had looked, she would have demanded they get off. Where would they be now if Ocean had done that? What if she had freaked out, demanded an inspection, or at least gotten the choir off the ride? Would Constance have been mad at her or ended their friendship? Would the accident have been avoided, or would the students behind them have been killed? All Ocean could say for certain was that she wished she’d raised a fuss. It would be better that Constance ended their friendship in exchange for living and not being hurt or traumatized. Despite what Constance said, Ocean knew she didn’t deserve her forgiveness. Ocean deserved to–

Fingers snapped in her face. Ocean almost yelled, but Misha spoke first. “Hey, ginger,” he said loudly. “We’re here. Get out of car.”

Ocean glanced around, having not realized that she’d zoned out. Wasn’t the fair and warehouse about twenty-five minutes away in good weather? She hadn’t been zoned out for that long, surely. And yet, she saw Noel offering supportive hands to Ricky as he climbed out and got back in his wheelchair. Constance had already shut off the engine and gotten out; she was massaging her wrists.

The redhead just nodded, grabbing her crutches and getting out herself. Her boot hit the dirt, and she looked around. How had they gotten here? Surely, she hadn’t been stuck in her head the whole time? Ocean O’Connell-Rosenberg never zoned out. She heard Misha say something warmly to Penny as they got out behind her. Was she even Ocean O’Connell-Rosenberg anymore? She didn’t even have a birth certificate to make a case for the technicality. A car door shut. Did that make her Ocean O’Connell now? That didn’t feel right either, since even her birth mother was no longer her legal mother. She had no legal guardian, really. Another door all but slammed, and Constance shouted something. Did that just make her Ocean? Was that her entire identity now? Would she not have a surname until she married and took her husband’s? How would she get married if she had no father to give a man her blessing? She couldn’t even turn to her next of kin because her aunts were in prison and her Uncle Roger wasn’t even her uncle, so any other family she once had was no longer hers. She was utterly alone–

“Ocean?”

She looked up, meeting brown eyes. Noel had an eyebrow raised at her. She stood up a little straighter, planting her right crutch firmly on the ground. “What?”

“We’re going inside.”

He turned away from her, and Ocean felt a pang in her chest.

I would never vote for you.

Ocean adjusted her scarf as she started walking with the group, wincing as the wind blew snowflakes into her face. Constance fell back a bit to walk with her. Ocean gave her a small, grateful smile. They all clustered a little closer when they got to the door. Misha wordlessly went to the front, trying to pull something out of his hoodie pocket. How he could bear to wear so little in this cold, Ocean would never know. Misha fumbled for a moment before he had a small set of tools in his hand. “I only have the one good hand. One of you will have to help.” Penny slowly lowered down to her knees and held her hands out to him. Misha put two tools in her hand and nodded. “Listen closely.”

Ocean looked out to the side as Misha and Penny got to picking the lock. This must have been how Misha got his hands on the communion wine. Why Misha hadn’t tried to steal some other, cheaper wine, she couldn’t understand. What made him think it was a good idea to give a fourth-grader said wine was so far beyond her that she dropped it. If he hadn’t done that, would he have ended up in the choir? Could he have been spared all the trauma and gone about a better life? Could he be able to pick locks with two good hands?

Constance nudged her and offered a small smile. Ocean felt guilt twinge in her stomach when she saw how Constance’s smile was scarred. If Ocean hadn’t forced Constance to join the choir with her– and forced was the right word, because Ocean had gone so far as to put the pen in her hand and put her hand on the paper to make her sign up– Constance might have been without the scars and nightmares.

“Are you alright?” Constance whispered. “You’ve been unfocused today. If you need to–”

“I’m just tired, Constance,” Ocean whispered back, even a little harshly. She took a breath and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep out of anticipation.” It wasn’t a lie. Ocean had stayed up with wide eyes, tugging at her hair until about midnight.

The shorter girl didn’t seem to believe it, but she nodded. “I get that. Neither did I.” She glanced over at Penny and Misha, who were muttering to each other as Penny tried to pick the lock. “I have no idea how that girl sleeps through everything.”

Except the night terrors.

“Lucky,” Ocean said with another shrug.

“I know, isn’t she?”

It took several minutes, but it seemed that Penny’s dexterity was better than her balance, because she managed to fully undo the lock on the warehouse door. Misha grinned when the padlock clicked, falling apart. Penny looked at it for a moment before holding all the tools back to Misha. “Did I do it right?”

Misha swiftly pocketed the picks and threw his arm around the girl, nodding. “You did it just right, Zelenka. Am very proud.” Penny blinked twice, then hugged him back, a tiny smile on her face. “Your first time, and you did very well. It took me longer.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Took me days to get it right,” Misha told her, standing and guiding her to her own feet.

Noel went past them, opening the latch that the lock had kept close. It squeaked loudly. He sucked in a breath and looked back at the others. Once this door was opened, they’d be looking directly at the place everything had happened. They’d never be able to go back or call it fictional or deny how absurd it all was. They all felt like silly things to dread, but these days, everything felt so… big and important. Is that just what happens when you face the fact that you almost didn’t live?

“Noel,” Constance said, making him look over. She nodded firmly. He nodded back, tightly gripping the handle of the door and yanking it open.

Everyone looked past the door as Noel pushed it through some snow. It didn’t look magical or anything. It didn’t look dangerous, aside from some tripping hazards. It was just a large, dark room.

Misha stepped in first, pulling Penny by the hand. Ricky rolled in after them, rubbing their hands while momentum took them a little farther in. Constance lightly touched Ocean’s shoulder and pushed it without walking herself. Ocean took the first steps, leading Constance in. Her crutches went from crunching dirt and snow to tapping on concrete. She tilted her head up a little, determined not to be weak in here. Noel stepped in right behind her, allowing the door to fall shut.

The door sounded like it slammed because it was so heavy. As soon as it did, the warehouse was pitch black. At least three of them screamed in fright. Everyone reached for whoever was nearest, clutching at jackets and moving closer. Something clattered to the floor. Misha was the only one who pulled away, reaching into a few of his pockets. It took several long seconds, but he managed to flick on his lighter. The small area was illuminated, revealing everyone in a huddle. Ricky had grabbed Penny’s arm and pulled her so she was pressed against him. Constance and Ocean were standing close to his wheelchair, hugging one another like they’d otherwise be lost. One of Ocean’s crutches had fallen when she grabbed Constance. Noel was over them both, one hand grasping Ocean’s shoulder. When they realized there was some light, everyone relaxed a bit. Noel quickly let go of Ocean, bending down to grab her crutch. She let go of Constance and took it back, thanking him softly. However, she quickly became annoyed again. Almost instinctively, she snapped, “Great going, Noel.”

“Literally what did I do?!”

“You shut the door before we could turn on the lights,” Ocean said, scoffing. “Do you ever think ahead?”

“Both of you shut up,” Misha told them, going closer to the wall and checking a few spots until he found a lightswitch. To be safe, he flicked on all four. There was a low hum as every light came on, casting a pale, fluorescent light on the group. It somehow felt colder with the lights on.

Penny fixed her hat a little lower with her free hand; Ricky was still clutching her other. She looked down at him, and he blushed brightly. He pulled away from her, signing a quick, ‘Sorry.’

“You’re fine,” she replied softly, hugging herself. “It’s cold in here.”

Misha, pocketing his lighter, came back to the group. “Do we split up?”

All at once, everyone almost shouted, “No!” Ricky pinched his thumb, index, and middle fingers repeatedly to sign it. Misha nodded, glad they were all on the same page.

Everyone slowly walked farther in, making sure to stick close. They quickly noticed a platform surrounded by some junk that had been thrown in there after the crash. Everything looked the same as when they were dead. They must have tried to store as much of their stuff as possible after the initial accident. There were only two differences. One was that the roller coaster cart was not in there; it was probably in some scrap yard, crunched, scraped, and stained with blood.

The other was that the large box beside the platform was covered by a large tarp.

Everyone looked at one another. When nobody made a move, Ocean stepped forward, the only sound being the tapping of her boots and crutches. The least she could do now was try and be on the front lines. She didn’t want them to get hurt because of her again. She didn’t want to risk them for herself again. Ocean was the one who had pulled them all into the choir, except for Penny. Ocean was the one who hadn’t told them she felt unsafe. Ocean was the one who had been willing to step on each of them– literally– to save her own life. Ocean was the one who reached and pulled off the tarp, revealing the limp body of The Amazing Karnak. The wires on the side were chewed to bits. Ocean looked around, wondering exactly how that worked. News articles said that Karnak had died at the fair, almost exactly when the second accident happened. How did that work if he had died in the warehouse with him? How come Karnak wasn’t alive?

Ocean looked over the box, scanning it for clues. She saw no particular symbols that were out of the ordinary. Just basic warnings, instructions, and company logos. Ocean leaned in closer to look, her breath visible in front of her face. One of the power chords was covered in teeth marks, a few areas starting to show wires. There was one spot near the box that was especially worn, the wires exposed and dangerous. Any more chewing, and the wires would have been a deadly snack. “Some rodent nearly died trying to get back at him…”

“Ocean, don’t get so close,” Constance told her, biting her thumb lightly. Ocean glanced back, considering it. But then, something white glinted in the corner of her eye. She looked over at the machine, noticing a subtle blue light in it. Her eyes widened. She walked a little closer, eyes wandering over the body briefly. It was drooped over like it was only turned off. The turban was coming undone. The wood was beginning to look damaged, no longer cared for like it should be. Everything mechanical and electronic was stiff and useless.

So why was the crystal ball starting to glow?

Ocean looked at it, suddenly realizing that there were no wires in it, lights around it, or really anything connecting it to the machine. It was just being held by the hands of the machine. Ocean reached out. “That’s weird… Are there mechanics in the hands…?” She pulled the hands off, barely having to fight it. The metal creaked, but quickly gave way. She gasped when she confirmed that there were no wires or lights in the hands. And yet, without those, the light was glowing brighter. Unlike before, it was warm and soft and– “Uhhh, guys?”

Ocean pulled her hand back, watching as several colors swirled in the object like a prism. The glow filled the vicinity with uncertainty and awe. Suddenly, the crystal ball quickly became brighter than the bad lights. Ocean tried to stumble back to escape whatever was about to happen. Someone instead grabbed her arm and yanked her. Ocean found herself behind Misha, who was bent over her, using his scarred and slinged arm as a shield. Ocean ducked her head and froze, wishing Misha hadn’t done that for her. They all braced for an explosion or something, but it never came. Instead, the light just blasted in all directions, beams of different color flooding the warehouse. Ocean saw a glaring pink-orange color, and then everything was back to normal.

Slowly, everyone looked up at the machine, which was still just sitting there as the crystal ball dimmed. Ocean turned her face up to Misha, frowning. “You didn’t have to–”

“I thought it was going to kill you or something,” Misha told her. He pulled back to give her space. The others relaxed, having not realized that they were so tense. Misha glanced back at the ball.

“What the hell was that?!” Noel said, gasping and looking around. “I literally saw red.”

“Really? Because I saw purple,” Constance commented, blinking.

Misha looked up at Constance, “That must have been your glasses, because that was fuckin’ yellow.”

“That was not yellow. What is wrong with you?” Noel started.

“What happened?” Constance interrupted.

“Not sure,” Ocean admitted, shifting one crutch awkwardly to see Constance. “But I think that was something along the lines of what we were looking for.”

Everyone looked at the machine, which now was lifeless and lightless like before. Now, however, the crystal ball was shattered, more dust than anything.

“What in the name of every hell…?” Noel said bluntly, staring at the untouched object.

A beat as everyone thought to themselves. Penny was the first to move forward, slowly walking over to the machine.

“Penny, be careful,” Constance suddenly said, shifting to stand up. “We don’t know what–”

“He wouldn’t want to hurt us,” Penny said, stepping ever closer. She pressed her hand to the frame of the box, staring at the machine. “He saved us, didn’t he?” She stared at him for a moment, and tears were suddenly dancing in her eyes.

Ricky nodded, rolling over to join her. The other four joined, glancing at one another uncertainly. They all gathered around Penny, watching as she expressionlessly began to shed tears. They saw their reflection in the glass that covered the top half: six teenagers who were tired, scared, and really not supposed to exist anymore; six souls saved by this machine and unaware how or why; six lives damaged in ways nobody else could ever know.

For a little while, they stared too, unsure what to do. All they knew to be true was that this place, that machine, horribly unsettled them. Finally, Ocean reached and gently took Penny’s hand. “I think–” She paused when all the others looked at her. Penny slowly turned to look at her, bright green eyes teary but otherwise unreadable. “I think this was a mistake.” Ocean swallowed, suddenly aware that she shouldn’t take control. She let out a quiet breath and just offered, “Do you want to leave?”

Silently, everyone got back into the Blackwoods’ van, and Constance started to drive home.

___

That night, they stayed at Noel’s house again. It wasn’t that new for Ocean, but it still felt weird. She preferred pretending these were all sleepovers. At least, then, she wasn’t the only one at least a little bit out of place. Instead of taking up the grey, clean, lifeless guest room, she just took up part of a mattress that Noel had brought out.

Ocean was laying on her back, the only one left awake…

Her water bottle was in the guest room. She should get it. She got up, leaving her crutches on the wall to avoid making noise. She leaned on the wall and ignored how her leg was stabbed with pain every time she stepped on it. She grabbed her water bottle from the dresser and downed it in seconds. The water was cool and refreshing. It woke her up even more, but it felt better than being uncomfortably sleepless.

The ginger leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, remembering all that had happened today. It felt like a mess. Ocean teared up as she thought about it. Thought about life. Thought about herself.

What kind of a choir president was she if she pulled her choir into danger and just let them suffer? What good was she if she couldn’t figure this out? After forcing most of them into the choir and preparing to crush them for her own survival, she owed them at least an attempt to find answers. She owed them something better in this second chance at life.

The successful girl rubbed her head, trying to ease her mind. She had to rest first. She had to figure out how to sleep. She was so tired these days, but no amount of sleeping, coffee, or reading made it better. The default grey walls of the guest room weren't encouraging, but at least the walls weren’t grey from smoke stains.

Ocean got up and walked back into the living room, gasping softly when she saw the state the others were in. Ricky had just abandoned the couch, getting cozy with Misha and Penny. Penny was sitting up against the arm of the couch, at the edge of the little nest. Ricky was resting close to her, his blanket covering her legs. Misha was on his back next to Ricky, his scarred arm bent above his own head. His other arm was wrapped around Noel, who was curled up with his back against Misha. His arm was draped over Constance, and he held her hand loosely. The short girl was sort of snug in Noel’s chest, apparently very cozy.

Ocean felt a pang of hurt when she realized they must have moved together pretty much the moment she was gone.

Careful not to let her limping wake anyone, she walked back over, grabbed a pillow, and took the couch now that it was empty and the mattresses were all but full.

Ocean tried to relax as she got physically comfortable, just a little bit away from the others. She had to turn so her back was to them to avoid sleeping on her aching leg. Just a little bit separated. She could flip over, but then her head would be away from them anyways. Just a little farther from them than they were to one another…

Ocean gave in, flipped to the other side, and stared at the group. Her eyes got hot with fresh tears, causing her to wake up more. She screwed her traitorous eyes shut and put all the effort she had into staying silent as the tears poured. She cried into the pillow as the others slept soundly, content with her farther away.

Content without her…

Chapter Text

25 September 1990

Karnak watched as people went to and fro, enjoying all the novelties that the Wonderland Carnival had to offer. If he could smell, he was sure he’d be able to smell all sorts of cotton candy, greasy foods, and the vomit someone had left behind him after riding the Cyclone. He was very glad that he had no sense of smell. It would only be overstimulating and disturbing, especially somewhere like a fair. If he was stationed somewhere in a damp cave or parlor, he might wish otherwise. Alas, his spirit was trapped in this location out of all possible ones. It seemed cruel and unfair, as he had always been one of the more benevolent clairvoyants.

However, living just outside a small town had its benefits. He was able to be updated on plentiful drama every year. Whenever people visited the fair, they had him read their fortune. There wasn’t reason to have it done more than once, but some people claimed that it was a tradition. He’d become more popular in ‘88, after his ability to read out deaths had been disabled. One incident with a small family had apparently disturbed someone enough to raise pandemonium.

Unfortunately for Karnak, the bounds of his body and that of his powers were far different. While the machine his spirit occupied was only allowed to do what the programming allowed, the vessel of his powers went beyond. Karnak was set to what the carnies called “family-friendly mode.” Instead of narrating the demise of each visitor, he was given a programmed response. There was one six-word phrase that haunted him, and, if he had a flesh body, he would be nauseous from saying it so much.

One would think that being a powerful clairvoyant would be fun, but Karnak disagreed. His power was limited by his mechanical body. Instead of being able to give advice and better his clients, he only spoke of their deaths. One would think there was at least some interest in watching death, but there wasn’t. Most of the people of Uranium City lived quiet lives. While there were always harsh rumors and occasionally scandals, very little action happened here. Almost everyone was destined to die of old age, near loved ones. He supposed that was good, but it wasn’t entertaining. It got old. Not to say that any other death was entertaining. Only a few times had he ever seen someone who had a genuinely entertaining death. Those were the people who would die of their very stupidity. The rest were truly tragic and heartbreaking.

When Karnak read someone’s fortune, he knew their birth, life, and death. He could only read their lives up to the point that they pulled the lever on his side. Then, all was blank until their deaths. Often, that left Karnak feeling connected to a person, if only for a brief moment, before watching them pass. Sometimes, he was happy to see them at peace. Others, he felt like something inside his body had cracked, mourning a person he had never met.

One of the last fortunes he told was a particularly heartbreaking one, as it had been exposed in front of this boy’s parents, younger sister, and two close friends. Karnak hadn’t been particularly disturbed, but he’d been hurt by their expressions. He would never forget seeing the sister’s brown eyes, filled with tears, when she realized she’d be the only one present when her brother died.

Karnak saw two familiar faces approach him, and he was comforted. These two faces had appeared every year to have their fortune read. Karnak could almost consider them his friends. He was worried that they would not show up, as they had always talked about leaving the place. The young couple had had solid plans to leave last year. He wondered why they would have stayed. As they approached him, he felt giddy. He’d get to find out soon enough.

My most loyal customers. How are you today?

“Here,” the young man said, bending down to kiss his lover’s cheek as he handed her a quarter. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, Butterscotch,” the girl said. She inserted the coin, pulled the lever, and stood back. Like electricity, Karnak felt his powers start up. He looked up, and his crystal ball took on a soft lavender color. He watched her life flow before his eyes– all familiar. Only the last year was a surprise. He saw her engagement, wedding, and consummation all happen. He watched as she spoke to her now mother-in-law about inheriting the family business.

“Darlene Blackwood, born March twenty-seventh, Aries, the lucky nature,” Karnak announced.

“He knows my name’s changed,” Darlene said with a bright smile. Her glasses fogged up. Scott wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer.

Instead of telling her that she’d die on the older side, comforted by two of her sons, he moved on with that sickening phrase. “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

It was getting old.

Scott sighed and pulled out a quarter for himself. “It’s a shame he doesn’t do the fortune telling anymore.”

Darlene shrugged. “You remember what happened to Jacques. After the tantrum that Mrs. Veronica threw, he’s never going to talk about death again.”

“It’s a shame. I rather liked hearing about it. It promised that I’d have a family,” Scott told her as he slipped the coin in and pulled the lever.

Darlene leaned into him, one hand on his chest. Her finger glittered with a silver band with one small diamond. “Now, I can promise that.”

Scott embraced her once again, and Karnak could see the golden band on his finger. “I suppose so.”

Karnak’s crystal ball turned a deep magenta sort of color, and Scott’s life blurred before his eyes. A quiet, sweet life in Uranium was rather boring, but it was nice that he did not suffer. “Scott Blackwood, born July first, Cancer, the amiable nature.” Instead of comforting him knowing he’d die with his wife and three of his children, Karnak said, “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

Karnak watched the two continue to chat for a moment, and he was suddenly very glad that they had decided to stay in Uranium. He hoped to meet them for many years to come.

___

6 September 1995

When Scott and Darlene returned this year, they brought, for the first time, their little daughter. Karnak watched as they walked over with their giggling toddler, looking more happy with life than ever. The last four visits, he had met the little one through their memories. Darlene had wanted to come to the carnival for at least a bit while she was pregnant. The last few times, they’d come without her, but he’d seen her in their memories leading up to that point. Now, he got to see the little girl through the machine’s eyes. Her hair was kept in two pom-poms with pretty pink ties, and round glasses sat on her nose.

When the little family approached, Darlene held her daughter out. She squealed, pushing her quarter in. Darlene held her to the lever so she could grab it herself. “Ready, Cece?” Darlene asked. The toddler nodded. Darlene grinned. “Hold on tight.” Then, she pushed her down, and the lever fell. Karnak lit up in a soft pinkish purple color, swirling in front of her. The little girl clapped in excitement.

“Constance Blackwood, born November fourteenth, Scorpio, the secretive nature.”

Karnak watched her sweet, safe, warm life flicker by. His vision went to that pink-purple color, mostly obscuring her future until her death. The purple color should have lasted what would be decades in her life. They didn’t last two. Karnak watched Constance get on the Cyclone roller coaster at six seventeen. He watched the whole ride, though unable to see who else was with her. He was able to see as the sparks flew and Constance laughed until they spun out. The cart crashed, but Karnak was unable to see the rest of it, as Constance’s face hit the cart, and her string of life was cut.

No.

“Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

No!

Karnak was unable to tear himself from this mechanical body or crystal vessel as the Blackwoods walked away. He damned the contract that had stuck him like this, powers far too restricted. He could do nothing for the living.

He didn’t know it would only get worse.

___

13 September 1999

Karnak glowed orange as Ocean pulled the lever. “Ocean O’Connell-Rosenberg, born December twenty-second, Capricorn, the ambitious nature.” He watched in horror as she boarded the roller coaster with Constance. This time, he saw past the initial crash and tumble of the cart. When everything stopped, Ocean pushed the damaged bar off of her and tried to stand. Her limbs were broken and weak, so she crumpled to the dirt, laying there in pain until her life ended a moment later. “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

No. Do not ride the Cyclone. Stay away from it at all costs!

“Your turn, Noel!”

“My mom says I’m not allowed to use the fortune teller,” the boy whispered to Constance, looking up at it hesitantly.

“Why not?” Ocean asked, looking up at Noel. “It’s just a fortune teller.”

Noel frowned and looked down at the quarter. “I dunno,” she told her with a shrug. “She really hates it. I think she’s super scared of it.”

Constance giggled and touched the corner of the box. “He’s not scary. He can’t hurt us.”

“Maman sure thinks so,” Noel said, looking back up at her. Ocean hummed and put a hand on Noel’s back.

“Did Karnak hurt your mom?” Ocean asked, eyes concerned. She had always liked Carolyn. She didn’t seem to like thinking that Karnak had hurt her.

I never hurt her, but I did scare her badly. I’m not surprised she holds something against me for her pain, but I never hurt her. I never meant to, at least.

“I guess so,” Noel said.

“If you don’t wanna do it, I’ll do it again,” Ocean said, reaching to grab the coin.

Noel giggled, holding the coin as high as he could so that Ocean couldn’t touch it. “Noooo!” Ocean jumped at it, but she couldn’t reach it. She pouted, crossing her arms. “Nuh-uh! It’s mine, Oce.”

“Then do it already!” Ocean pushed.

“Okay, okay!”

Insert the quarter, pull the lever, and let Karnak hope that his hunch was wrong.

“Noel Gruber, born March fifth, Pisces, sign of passion.” A life already so tragic came to him. Among love and friendship were hardship, abuse, grief, and pain. Karnak didn’t have to see Noel’s future to know how much this would mess with him one day. He didn’t see much of a future, even through the red tint, as he got on the Cyclone behind Constance and fell with her. Karnak wished he could shut the image of Noel being run through by an atrociously bent safety bar from his sight, but his powers wouldn’t allow it. “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Ocean insisted, hugging Noel from the side. He smiled and hugged her back so tightly he lifted her up. “Heyyy!”

Noel placed her back down and ruffled her messy, wavy hair a little. “Tiny.”

“Hey!”

Constance ran between them, firmly pulling them into another hug. Noel and Ocean quickly broke into giggles, easily forgetting a little squabble in favor of enjoying the fair with their best friends.

“Cece, Noel, Ocean,” Darlene said, walking over and holding her hand out to them. “Come on, kiddos. Do you wanna go on the ferris wheel?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

The seven-year-olds joined hands to run over with Darlene, cheering about the fun ride.

Karnak just hoped that, if they were to die together, that meant they’d be close like this until the end.

___

23 September 2008

They were not still close like that.

Constance had to all but beg Ocean and Noel to use the fortune teller. She insisted that it was “tradition,” and even then had to just innocently beg, “For me??”

She had a far easier time convincing the new student and Richard to try it out. As broody and irritable as the new addition was, Karnak could see in his eyes that he would not want to upset Constance. He took her quarter with a smirk and rather violently pushed down the lever. Deep blue-green light. “Misha Bachynskyi, born August eighteenth, Leo, sign of aggression.” Misha would get on the roller coaster next to Noel and die grabbing onto him, stabbed by the same bar. “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

Karnak thought he might explode the next time he had to say this to one of the poor kids who would die less than a year from now.

“Ricky, sweetie, do you need help?” Ocean asked as Constance gave Richard a quarter.

Ricky? Did he go by another name, then? Well, one of the few things Karnak had power over in this form was saying someone’s correct name. He waited for a moment, hoping to hear it from someone other than Ocean.

Noel smacked her arm. “It’s a quarter. Ricky can handle that by himself.”

“Don’t smack me!” Ocean said, slapping his hand away.

“Oh, seriously? If you wanna fight, I can beat your twiggy body into the dirt.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, taking the quarter from Constance and nodding in thanks. He stood from his wheelchair for a moment to drop the coin in and grasp the lever.

“Ocean, Noel, please don’t do this right now.”

“Now you’ve upset Constance!”

“How did I upset Constance?”

“Both of you please chill out-”

“How about all of you shut the fuck up so we can hear the machine?” Misha shouted. The others went silent, and Misha nodded at Ricky. “You go now.”

Ricky pulled the lever as he sat back down, grinning at Misha in thanks. Bright purple-y blue light poured from the machine and crystal. Ricky’s life passed by, and Karnak instantly felt so much concern for the kid. Their life was not an awful one, but it was far from perfect. At the very least, Ricky seemed content, even as Noel and Ocean started whisper-bickering again. “Ricky Potts, born June fifth, Gemini, the dual nature.” Right after Noel and Misha, Ricky got into the coaster’s cart. When the ride failed and the cart hit the ground, they were thrown from their seat. Their back snapped over a rock, and all the damage to their ribs took their life in moments. “Your lucky number is seven, you will soar to great heights, and be sure to ride the Cyclone.”

Karnak had no way to emphasize how much he did not want them to ride the damn Cyclone. As we watched them walk off, either bickering, zoning out, or glued to phones, he felt every emotion that his being could have twist. They were going to die with people they could not stand, immature, and broken inside. They were going to live short lives– bitter as could be– and die without a chance to know healing.

How could that be fair?

___

14 September 2009

As Karnak saw the reflection of the cart derailing in his crystal ball, he couldn’t wait anymore. He gathered as much power as he could, reaching out to the souls of the kids. He was far, far from the most powerful clairvoyant. He had thought about reaching out to some of the more powerful ones, but what he wanted to do was completely breaking the laws of reality, so he’d have to go rogue. He knew he would have to push himself. He tuned into the terror, grief, and love of the teens as he latched onto their souls. He felt the hopes, thoughts, and dreams of each soul he’d read before. As the cart crashed, he felt as each soul was severed from its body and fell into his care. In all the chaos, he felt another soul wildly, desperately searching for help. He had not expected to hold a sixth soul, but he reached for it as he sensed a connection to each of the others. Karnak pulled that soul into his care as well, holding it close to his being. However, once he had it, it was already damaged. He could read no memories, sense of self, or even proper awareness in it. Karnak did his best to soothe each of them, feeling their terror and agony dwindle down to fright and discomfort. The straggling one quickly went quiet, no last thoughts or wishes falling from it. Unable to do anything more now, Karnak simply held them.

He held them as onlookers screamed.

He held them as their director saw in horror as their bodies were removed.

He held them as the carnival was shut down.

He held them as they were buried, providing a sense of security and understanding to each of the lost children. For the most part, they were at peace. They were pulled from the world now, and he was their sole guardian. Except for this “Jane Doe.” Her soul was given no amount of closure, and she remained weakly floating within his care.

He held them in a mystic embrace as his mechanical body was shoved into a warehouse and left there with the rats.

When they were at last left alone, when he knew he had so little left on this plane of existence, he let go of them. He reconstructed everything he’d known about them, which was all but the last half hour or so of their lives. Expending just a little more power, he added small things. He created a head for the lost soul to use when she came to. He crafted a voice for Ricky to borrow. He imagined their voices tuned to work better together, and he set them that way. They each materialized in the warehouse as Karnak brought light to it. Their dying injuries were gone, pain alleviated, and fears soothed as Karnak saw them again. He’d done a fantastic job: they appeared alive and well.

“Where are we?” asked a shaking voice.

A sore, mostly fabricated voice answered her, “The twilight zone…”

Chapter Text

20 January 2010

The day had finally come that Corey was able to meet up. He had made it in that Sunday, but since everything was closed, they agreed to meet up the next day. Misha was just thrilled to have something new to do. It would be nice to see Corey after all this time. It had been seven months since they’d seen one another, and Misha had been mostly offline since the crash. They hadn’t gotten much of an opportunity to talk in-depth between Corey going through exams and Misha getting adjusted to living with the Blackwoods.

Misha had been looking forward to this for weeks. He even went through the effort of showering thoroughly, which was a genuine hassle with how little motion he had in his arm at the moment. It’s not like Corey would care how clean he looked, but he didn’t want him thinking that Misha was in a total funk, which he absolutely was. He had been neglecting the need to shower regularly, and his sleep schedule was a total mess. Nothing felt alright. His arm was fucked up, and he was only just transitioning out of the sling. He knew that his and Ezra’s room qualified as a biohazard, but he couldn’t be fucked to change that unless Ezra complained. That was part of the reason he didn’t want to chill in his room. It was proof that his life was a disaster.

When he did make himself sleep, the nightmares persisted, though they were not just about the crash anymore. Instead, they were about watching as the others died, unable to look away and powerless to stop it. They were about an empty, toxic village that he ran through over and over again. He dreamt of not being able to find Noel when he needed his help and being trapped in a lake with blood. Countless times in the last several days, he had woken up from these horrors to screaming. Each time he did, he bolted to Constance and Penny’s room to take care of them. No matter how horrible it felt, he threw it aside to protect the girls from their own fears.

Last night had been one such experience, and Misha found himself feeling more on edge on account of that. He knew that Penny was asleep now, finally calm. It was nearly noon, but nobody dared to disturb her when she was actually resting. When Misha slept in, the Blackwoods let him, even though he was supposed to be helping in the cafe in return for their hospitality. They refused to disturb him when he wasn’t having nightmares, insisting that he could always help clean up or bake in the evenings. Since he’d slept in today and planned to hang out with someone this afternoon, he planned on making it up to them for dinner. Misha knew the Blackwoods weren’t strict about the conditions of his stay, but guilt gnawed at him nonetheless. As he got ready for Corey’s visit, he planned out which chores he’d tackle.

Corey had asked if he could bring a few friends. Misha had been surprised to learn that a couple of classmates had come back to stay with Corey, but he didn’t want to object. Just to make it fair, Corey mentioned that Misha could have someone join him. He’d originally thought to bring Penny and Constance, but after Penny’s night terror, he gave up on it. Constance quickly became busy with chores, so Misha turned to Noel and Ricky. Noel had objected, but he hadn’t explained why.

It had taken a while to even get an answer from Ricky. They didn’t have a cell phone, so Misha had just called the Pottses’ house phone. Since the adults refused to speak, Misha had quickly told them, “One knock for no, and two for yes.” It had taken a whole fifteen minutes to have a conversation that should have taken maybe two, but they agreed to let Ricky come over. Misha stood at the front door of the Cafe, grinning when Ricky’s parents’ car pulled up. His mother got out of the car to help him, stubbornly holding onto him until he had a perfect grip on his crutches. Ricky leaned away from her, and she suddenly pulled back. She and Ricky shared a look, but Misha could only see Ricky’s face fall. When the woman got back in the car, Ricky came up to the door, which Misha opened for him. “Hey, Zirka,” Misha said. Ricky grinned back.

Are you ever going to tell me what that means, or am I going to have to ask you?

Misha led Ricky to a booth by the wall, staying standing for just a moment as Ricky sat down. He didn’t want to be overbearing or anything like that, but he wanted to be sure he was there if anything happened. He sat down quickly after Ricky did, sort of hoping the other wouldn’t notice. Ricky just pulled his crutches to the far inside of the booth, and they slipped almost invisibly under the table.

‘When will C-o-r-e-y and his friends arrive?’ Ricky signed. Misha could see his eyes shine with pride at how fluent the sentence had come out.

Misha glanced at the clock. “We agreed on noon. Knowing Corey, he will be here at twenty past.”

Ricky and Misha chatted for a bit, Misha eventually going silent as he focused on signing properly. Misha was picking up the language faster than Ricky, but he wasn’t surprised by that. He’d always been really good at learning new languages. It was all a matter of learning the basics and then memorizing words. Instead of having to figure out pronunciation, he just had to get certain handshapes into muscle memory.

In the middle of a desperate attempt of Ricky’s to remember a particular sign, the bell rang. Misha spun around, looking to the door. Misha noticed two males walk in, but he only paid attention to the one wearing a ripped t-shirt and dark denim jacket. He was the exact same height as Misha, a tower over the other guy. He had the same light brown skin, though more tattoos decorated his skin. He’d evidently shaved the sides of his hair, leaving the chestnut waves to fall messily. Olive green eyes lit up when he saw Misha, and he quickly took the last few strides to embrace him. Misha hugged back with one arm, feeling the one in the sling press against Corey. He ignored the discomfort in favor of greeting his friend. They said nothing for a minute, just laughing softly.

When Misha pulled back, he gripped Corey’s bicep, silently noticing that it had traded a bit of fat for muscle recently. “Your hair looks like shit,” Misha commented. Corey scoffed and reached around, grabbing Misha’s hat and quickly turning it to shove over his eyes.

“Prick.”

Misha laughed in retort as he fixed his hat. He grinned brightly. Nothing had changed. Glancing behind Corey, his eyes found the shorter male that had come in with him. Several things about the other stood out to him immediately. Each of his eyes was a different color, with the left one a rich brown and the right a light blue. He had short, dark brown hair that fell down just above his eyes, almost in the style of a young boy band member. He dressed very differently from Corey, with a neat t-shirt, flannel, and jeans. A small brown bag hung from one shoulder, also decorated with patches. The thing that surprised Misha the most, however, though he tried not to draw excess attention to it, was that this boy was on crutches. They were covered in stickers of plants and insects, each one neatly smoothed onto the surface. From the right one hung a charm with a blue butterfly on the end.

“Are you going to introduce me to my replacement?” Misha joked, eyes darting back to Corey in an attempt to avoid staring. Corey looked back as well, as though suddenly remembering that he had brought a plus one.

“First of all, you have not been replaced… Alex has been replaced,” Corey replied with a grin. Misha snickered, but they both let it roll off. Corey then cleared his throat and gestured to the other boy, who quickly walked over to be next to Corey. Misha stepped back a tad to allow him space. “This is Hank. We met through an insanely boring statistics lecture. He is the reason I stayed alive during that class.”

Hank grinned, playfully tapping Corey’s shin with his crutch. Misha wasn’t sure whether offering to shake hands would be right, since he had both his hands on his aids. However, he knew that he should be able to stand without one of them for just a second. Besides, the more he hesitated, the more awkward this became. Misha cleared his throat and offered one hand. “Misha Bachynskyi. It is a pleasure to meet any homie of my homie.” Hank carefully shifted his weight to the side, and shook Misha’s hand quickly before pulling back. “You go to Corey's school, yeah? Are you also a freshman?”

Hank shook his head. He glanced at Corey, who said, “He is a sophomore this year.” Misha nodded as he processed. He wondered for a moment why Corey had spoken for him, but with a glance at Ricky, it clicked. Hank wasn't just on crutches; he was also mute.

The other two followed his gaze to look at Ricky, and Hank suddenly stiffened. Misha turned to see Ricky again, and he almost laughed softly at his face. Ricky was staring with his mouth open, eyes flickering with something Misha had never quite seen in him before. Hank shrank back a bit, glancing at Corey in discomfort. Before Ricky or Misha could say a thing, Corey stepped with one foot in front of Hank and glared at Ricky.

“The fuck are you staring at, little bitch?” Corey spat loudly. “Do you have a problem with my buddy? Because if you say a single bigoted thing towards Hank, I swear I will fucking beat you until you can’t walk!”

Ricky jumped at the volume, scooting back in the booth and shrinking into the wall. He fought back tears from the sheer fright, glancing at Misha for help. Misha seemed just as shocked by the outburst, though he wasn’t as scared. Hank reached and grabbed Corey’s arm in an attempt to calm him down. Corey stopped yelling and leaned back again, but his face remained hard with disdain.

After a moment, Misha started laughing quietly, putting up his hands defensively. “Do not get so harsh, Corey. Relax.” He gestured a hand back at Ricky. “He is the farthest thing from a bigot I know.”

“Then why the hell was he sitting there gawking at Hank like that, huh?” Corey asked, shooting another nasty look at Ricky that made him jolt again.

Misha waved his hands. “I uh…” He glanced back at Ricky, furrowing his eyebrows. Ricky nodded, allowing Misha to speak for him just because he didn’t have the means to. Even if he did, Ricky didn’t think he’d be able to come up with much to say. “My guess is probably either because Hank looks like a seriously cool dude, or because he is also disabled.”

Ricky nodded, and Hank immediately relaxed. He carefully sat in the booth, leaning his crutches on the side of the seat. He scooted down to be directly across from Ricky and offered a hand to shake. Ricky stared at the greeting for a brief moment, but they ultimately shook their head. Misha raised an eyebrow when he saw Ricky just go back to wringing his hands nervously.

Instead of being offended, Hank smiled sympathetically. Ricky sighed quietly in relief and brought up their hands to instead sign, ‘Hello. My name is R-i-c-k-y.’ They slowed down a little when they finger-spelled, still getting used to it. Hank smiled at him warmly, then reached into his bag.

Corey stared at Ricky for a moment, blinking. Misha leaned over a bit. “Do you not recognize him, or…?”

Corey nodded, understanding now. “Oh. Fuck. Ricky. Hey. I literally did not recognize you. Dude, I would not have…” He cast his face down, flushing with embarrassment. Misha couldn’t blame him. Had Hank done the exact same thing to Ricky, Misha would probably have snapped at him, too. “Yeah… Sorry about that,” Corey said, initially to Misha, but he then turned to face Ricky. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, dude. Honest mistake.”

Ricky nodded meekly, quickly turning their attention back to Hank as he typed something on a small device with a blue cover. After a moment, a monotone, robotic voice read out, ‘[My name is Hank Johnson he him. What are your pronouns.]’

Ricky hesitated, thinking for a moment if they even knew any gendered pronouns, before realizing that there probably weren’t any. With a slightly shaky hand, ‘T-h-e-y and h-e.’ They swallowed, glancing up at Misha but quickly averting their gaze. ‘I like t-h-e-y more.’

‘[Okay I’ll remember that.]’

After that, the interaction soon melded from an awkward recovery to a conversation. Ricky quickly avoided having to use complicated signs by asking Hank about things he liked and listening. Misha smiled, glad to see Ricky interacting with a new person. Then, he looked at Corey. “I thought you said there were two people you brought with you,” he pointed out. “Did I misunderstand?”

Corey shook his head. “Oh, right. Trishna’s back at my house. The jet lag got to her the worst, so she’s still resting.”

“Your house?”

Corey nodded. “Yeah. That’s part of the reason I came back. After my father kicked the bucket, I got all his stuff. I just came back to officially claim it and see where to go from here.”

“Are you going to sell it?”

Corey shrugged. “I don’t think so. I… Hank and Trishna finished their associates early, this semester. Trishna still wants to study more online, and she and Hank both wanted a change of scenery. I had to come back here anyway, so I took them with.” Corey glanced at the counter of the cafe, wondering for a moment where someone was.

“Are you moving back?” Misha asked, unable to push away how hopeful he felt at that.

“I…” Corey trailed for a moment. “Probably. I tried to go into finance because my father offered to pay. Now that he’s out of the picture, I have nothing really keeping me there. I got all I want out of college. I made two friends, went to a ton of parties, lost my virginity twice, and evaded the police.”

“You what–”

“I see nothing wrong with finding work here, as long as I don’t, like, die alone.” He shifted to lean on his crossed arms. “You are here; that is good. If Hank and Trishna decide to move here–”

“Woah, woah, woah– Why would they willingly move here? I understand coming back, but coming here?” Misha interrupted. “This place sucks balls, man.”

Corey frowned and tilted his head to each side. “Uranium’s got its ups and downs, but it is not all bad. Look, Mish, I’ve got a house without mortgage to pay off here. I could get a job and try to find a girl, even though no girl I’ve met here is, well, enough like me. Plus, I can do music design from anywhere. I…” Corey sighed and shot Misha a small smile. “Besides, bonus points if Hank and Trishna stay. Then I have all but one friend in one place. Kinda sounds like a score, right?”

Misha looked down. “Корі, I do not plan to stay for long. You know I want to move back to Ukraine…”

“Right…” Corey looked down as well, his face falling slightly. In their pause, they could hear Hank saying something about the stickers on his crutches. When the word “girlfriend” came up, Corey looked back at Misha. “You're just going to find a home with Talya, then?”

Misha sighed and leaned with his chin on one hand. “I… do not know. We… I… After the crash…” His eyes darkened as he recalled that horrible week right after their death and resurrection. “We took a break. We’re talking again, but…” He sighed, dropping the act completely. “I had no idea what was going to happen, and I did not like to be on social media platforms. It… All I could think about was how angry I was about the incident. I was angry for myself and for my friends. Things have changed so much. Besides, I am graduating a year late now. I… I told her that we could not keep our plan for now. Every time we talk, I get defensive and cold. I don’t know why. Like, I love and trust her, but she doesn’t know what I’m going through, so what am I supposed to say? You know? I… I don’t know…”

Ricky felt a shiver from his left, and he briefly glanced over at Misha. He wasn’t sure why Misha felt odd. Like there was a chill radiating off of him– which Ricky knew wasn’t even scidentifically accurate. He noticed the look on Misha’s face and subtly reached over, just sort of stroking his arm with one finger to let him know he was there. Ricky raised an eyebrow when Misha pulled away slightly and the chill vanished.

Odd.

Ricky was fully aware of how the situation was bothering him. He’d gotten a few earfulls about the conversations that had turned into probing, arguments, and Misha shutting down. He looked back at Hank, but part of his mind kept checking to make sure Misha was alright for now.

Misha sat up more and dropped his hand on the table, leaning on his arm almost parallel to Corey. “We’re trying to work it out, but… I haven’t really been up for talking about our future. It just… doesn’t feel right. I am in a place where I actually have no clue, and… Yeah.”

“Oh.” Corey was quiet for a moment before he looked in Misha's eyes. “I'm sorry. I wish I had advice, but, like, I’m good with chicks, but not the ladies–”

“No, you're good,” Misha insisted. He smiled weakly. “I will figure it out. I will talk to her soon. She is my soulmate; I am sure. We will make it work.” She had to be his soulmate. He had never loved anyone but Talya before. Not in this way. She had made him feel something when he was stuck in the basement. She had made him feel supported and not alone. She had made him feel like, even if he was an imperfect disaster, he was worth something. She had made him feel important. Nobody else had ever made him feel those things. She had to be his soulmate.

“You two were always a great couple,” Corey insisted. “You will figure it out. I can't really help, but I'm cheering for ya, брате.” Misha grinned. He hadn't been spoken to in Ukrainian for so long. Corey was the only person in Uranium who knew the language. Since Misha's English had been horrible when he first moved here, Corey was the first person he was able to talk to. Corey had helped him learn English, steal alcohol, and win any fight he got into.

“Дякую, що прийшли до мене,” Misha said quietly.

Corey chuckled softly and hit back with, “Дякую, що не помер наді мною.”

“Будь-коли.”

As Misha tried to figure out what to say, he suddenly heard footsteps. The door from the kitchen opened, and a voice called out, “I am so sorry to keep you waiting! We had a flour spill in the back.”

Constance ran out to the dining room, holding a pen and notepad, her grip a bit awkward, as she was wearing her wrist braces. When she noticed the group, she grinned at Misha. “Oh, hey– Ricky, hi! How are you?”

‘Great,’ Ricky signed.

“I'm glad,” Constance said. She looked over the other two young men, having to do a double take. She had no idea who the boy with the cute hair and tablet was, but she immediately recognized the taller one. “Corey! What are you doing here?” She blinked in surprise.

Corey almost made a playful quip, but his eyes widened when he actually saw her. “What happened to your face?!”

Misha and Ricky both glared harshly. Hank smacked him on the arm. Constance stared at Corey for a moment before awkwardly saying, “What happened to hello?”

Corey blushed brightly, once again embarrassed by his own stupidity. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn't tell me ‘hello,’ either.”

Constance’s eyes flickered between Misha and Ricky, who were staring in sympathy and secondhand embarrassment. She thought of saying something about that, but she didn’t know what to say, so she cleared her throat. “Right. Hello, Corey. What are you doing here? I… haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’m in town with some friends for a visit,” Corey told her. “Misha said it would be easiest to meet up here.” Constance nodded in understanding. Then, without fully thinking it through, Corey said, “Hello, Constance. What happened to your face?”

Hank and Misha both smacked him in the arm, but Constance laughed it off. “Oh, you know. My glasses shattered into my face, my forehead and lips got busted open on crunched metal, my nose had to be reconstructed twice.” She put a braced hand over her mouth as she smiled awkwardly. “You know, basic life-threatening accident stuff.”

“Oh shit,” Corey said. Constance nodded. “That's… Damn. Sorry about that.”

“Not like you did it,” Constance said, glancing down. She kept her hand in front of her mouth as she spoke. “Hey, I'm looking on the bright side. Those could have been infected way worse.” She cleared her throat and pushed back her smile, looking down at her notepad. “So how've you been? College treating you well?”

Corey shook his head. “It was boring and a waste of money. At least it was my father's money and not mine.” He shrugged. “Plus, I met some cool dudes. This is Hank, my best friend.”

“So I have been replaced–”

“Trishna is at my house right now, but she came too,” Corey said. “I think you'd like her. She's nice.” Constance looked down at the floor awkwardly for a second before looking back up at Corey. “I scored two homies. It was a total waste of money, but not time.”

Constance looked up at Hank and gave him a small, pleasant smile. “I'm Constance. It's nice to meet you.”

Hank shook her hand as he played a message, ‘[I'm Hank. It's nice to meet you, Constants.]’ Constance laughed off the typo as Hank fixed it. ‘[I'm sorry. Constance.]’

“No worries,” Constance told him. For a brief moment, her eyes lingered on the tablet in Hank's hand. She debated asking about it for a brief moment, but then she worried it would come off as insensitive. She didn't want to keep staring. Finally, Constance actually opened her notebook and looked over them. If Hank was in town for a while, then maybe she could ask later when she knew how to ask properly. “What can I get for you guys?”

Everyone quickly placed an order, and Constsnce jotted everything down, though she struggled a bit to write with her hand in a brace. When she finally got each coffee order finalized, she nodded. “I'll be right back with those.”

___

The next two hours were just a long session of Misha and Corey catching up while Hank and Ricky got to know one another. At some point, when Ricky was having trouble signing, Hank let them borrow his device to type something out. Hearing sentences come from Ricky in the robotic, soulless voice made Misha uneasy. When he watched Ricky sign, he could hear the voice they had for their death in his head. The blank voice lacked all personality, so it sounded nothing like Ricky at all.

When Hank suggested they head back to check on Trishna, the gathering came to a close. Hank and Corey got up to walk back. Since Corey's family was on the wealthier side, they lived on the nice side of town, rather near to the café. It wasn't an awful walk, even with some ice.

Misha waved them off, promising to chat soon. Corey tried to say goodbye to Ricky, but the latter avoided eye contact and just nodded. Misha noticed this and went up to Ricky the moment after the older two left.

“Rick?” Misha asked. Ricky glanced up at him. “Are you alright?”

Ricky shrugged.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ricky thought for a moment, then simply signed, ‘Write.’

Misha went over to the counter, finding a spare pencil and notepad for Ricky to borrow. He handed them both to Ricky as he sat across from him. “I am listening, Space Jesus.”

Ricky took a few minutes to write out something, in which Misha zoned out at an old picture on the wall. Then, he tore off the top paper and handed it to Misha.

‘I’m sorry, but I honestly don't like Corey already. I knew he was this tough boy who smoked and got into fights, but he was never mean to me. I know he just got defensive of Hank, but it was kind of scary. He didn't even give me a chance to communicate before he lashed out. Plus, he is really loud.’

Misha looked back up at Ricky, seeing the look of discomfort still on his face. They wrung their hands close to their chest, clearly still anxious. Misha had noticed him doing that sometimes when things got overwhelming. They did that when they were uncomfortable– a habit that was becoming more and more obvious all the time.

“Zirka, дорога Зірка.” Misha placed his hand down, palm up on the table, allowing them the space to accept or refuse. Slowly, Ricky reached and clasped it with both of their own. Misha squeezed one gently. “Corey can be a lot. He has no volume or temper control.” He laughed awkwardly. “It has gotten us into lots of trouble before. He's nice, though!”

Ricky shrugged. He squeezed Misha's hands tightly for a moment before relaxing. Then, Ricky ran his thumbs over Misha's hand, smiling a bit at the warmth that came from the contact, trailing up to Ricky’s chest to make them relax.

“Ah…” Misha hummed as he felt the motion. He took a breath and said, “I'm sorry he upset you. If you want, I will talk to him, so it does not happen again.”

Ricky retrieved one hand to sign, ‘Thank you,’ and then re-grasped Misha's hand.

“You're welcome,” Misha told him firmly. “Я б зробив для тебе все, Зіркa.”

Chapter Text

27 January 2010

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Ocean jumped and fumbled with her book before it fell down onto the carpet. She winced at the thud and laid on her stomach to grab it. How long had she been zoned out, not even reading from the page?

“What?” Ocean asked, not meaning to sound as snappy as she had. She kept her face firm as she pulled her book into her hand. She thought of sitting up, but that would have taken too much energy, so she let her hands hang off the edge.

Noel’s voice came through the door. “I finished making dinner,” he told her, tone unreadable. Ocean frowned, staying quiet. Was he irritated or upset that she had answered that way? She normally wouldn’t care, but she didn’t want to give him any reason to get her kicked out. Was he being caring?

I would never vote for you.

No, Noel didn’t care for her. He was just being decent by making sure she had food. Noel was a fundamentally good person. He had his mother’s hospitality, it seemed.

“Ocean?”

Had she not responded? How long had she been staring at the floor? When had she started staring at the floor? That wasn’t something she did. Ocean didn’t zone out like this.

“What?”

Noel muttered something to himself. Then, “Can I open the door?”

“Yeah.”

Noel opened the door and stood there, looking at her. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m laying on m– the bed,” Ocean told him, rolling her eyes.

Noel rolled his right back. “Why are you hanging off the edge?”

Ocean hummed in contempt and moved so that her whole body was on the mattress and her face was towards the foot of the bed. “Better?”

“Sure, whatever.” Noel leaned on the doorframe a little. “I made tomato soup and grilled cheese.” Ocean hummed, thinking about how to sit up so it hurt the least. “I promise the grilled cheese doesn’t have breastmilk,” Noel said with a small smirk. Ocean tried to laugh courteously, but it came out as kind of a weak huff.

“Good,” she ended up saying. “I’d never eat your cooking again.”

“Wouldn’t blame you,” Noel told her. There was a short pause as they just looked at one another. Both teens fell quiet, not knowing how to move on.

What they were to one another was a complicated puzzle. They’d been friends as young kids, but stopped being so when they were in grade three. Ocean knew it was because she had become selfish and insufferable, overly focused on her personal achievements. They had been rivals in class, at recess, and in choir over the years. The accident made them something closer, but it didn’t make them die-hard best friends. The recent revelations made them, by blood, related. They both hated to think of it, and they had yet to admit it out loud. The knowledge was just… disturbing. Not only was Ocean’s understanding of her very existence false, but Noel’s already messy view of his father had become dark and awful. Neither teen wanted anything to do with him, so they had no clue how to go about addressing it. It hadn’t been discussed in any form since the trials involving Ocean’s custody.

“Do you want to come eat?” Noel asked, standing up. “I might eat your portion if not.”

Ocean pushed herself up, wincing at the pain it caused her lower spine. “Yeah, I’ll eat.” Wordlessly, Noel pushed away and left the door open. As he vanished down the hall, Ocean sighed to herself.

This living situation was better than being dead, of course. She’d take her seventeen years over nothing and take this over just seventeen years. She was eighteen now. She was an adult. She had no right to be here. She should have a job. She should be in school right now. She should be studying to make it out of this town.

Ocean stood up and walked out of the guest room, following Noel slowly. Her leg stabbed itself with each step, but she didn’t want to make more noise with her crutches or cane. No. She’d just limp to the kitchen. She was silent as she sat at the table and started eating. Noel’s phone was on the counter, charging, so he was writing in his notebook as he ate. Ocean stared at the food for a moment, feeling her stomach twist. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve the hospitality at all. She should be figuring things out on her own.

Noel glanced up at her, and she grabbed one half of the sandwich. It would be rude not to eat, and she didn’t want to be rude. She didn’t deserve it, but she needed a place to stay. The Blackwoods might be willing to take her, but they wouldn’t be able to now that they had taken in three teenagers. “Thank you,” Ocean whispered as she took a bite. Then, she was silent, unsure whether she should pull out her phone since Noel was preoccupied with a poem or short story of some sort. She didn’t, because she hoped she would be finished soon.

The pair ate in awkward silence. Ocean found it far easier to get the soup down her throat, whereas the sandwich made her stomach twist. She tried to keep her face neutral as she swallowed each bite. There was nothing wrong with the food. It was good, if cheap. It was better than what she would have eaten at home. Maybe that was part of it? Maybe they reminded her of the damned breast milk sandwiches. Maybe that’s why she felt sick. Or maybe it was the mix of chewy cheese and crunchy bread. Maybe it was knowing she could choke if she didn’t put enough energy into chewing. She didn’t have that much energy.

When she had finished the soup and half of the sandwich, she noticed Noel’s eyes wandering over to her plate. She tried to smirk. “What, are you still hungry?”

Noel shrugged. “I’d be fine, but I’ll finish that if you don’t want it."

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” Ocean told him, unsure how true it was. “I’m just getting full.”

“Then do you want me to take it? I will.”

Ocean nodded, placing her plate in front of him and taking the rest of the dishes. “Yeah, go ahead.” She went over to the sink and started filling the sink. The least she could do was a few chores, even if she had to put most of her weight on her left legj ust to stay upright. She refused to be a complete freeloader. She really should get a job to help pay for living here.

Ocean poured a bit of dish soap under the faucet. She made sure to adjust it so the water wasn’t too hot. There was no dishwasher here, but that was fine. Ocean wasn’t used to using one. More often than not, her parents forgot to pay the bills. They didn’t believe in having to do such a thing, because “capitalism was a system designed to doom people.” Besides, their money went to other things. That was fine. Ocean just learned to do the dishes by hand, even if it meant using a gas stove to heat water from the creek.

Ocean stopped the water when it was deep enough and dipped the sponge in. She let herself fall into a rhythm, rinsing, scrubbing, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. It didn’t take long, as there were few dishes to even do, but it felt like ages. Ocean found herself completely zoned out by the time her hands were dry. She glanced at the clock. It was just past seven. Close enough.

“I’m going to sleep early,” Ocean told Noel as she walked past. He was still writing, one empty plate in front of him. Ocean briefly wished that she’d gotten that before she drained the sink.

Noel looked up at her and glanced at the clock. “It’s really early for that. Are you feeling alright?” His tone almost made her want to relax and just cry for no reason.

I would never vote for you.

But Noel wouldn’t want that.

Ocean shrugged. “No, don’t worry. I’m just fine. I’m just extra tired today. It’s nothing.” She was speaking in short sentences; she wasn’t fine.

Noel may or may not have realized. He raised one eyebrow and hummed. “Okay. Goodnight, Ocean.”

“Goodnight, Noel.”

Once her door was closed, Ocean started tearing up. She didn’t remember the last time she was so fatigued from doing nothing. Other than yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And the one before that… It had been almost the same causeless exhaustion since the accident. She assumed it would end when she went back to school and had something to do.

Like every day since she’d gotten this guest room, she got comfortable and just laid there, staring at the grey wall. Grey. Blank. Just like her…

___

Constance lept up from her door when there was a knock. She managed to open it with her right hand, despite a bit of stiffness. She smiled up at her mom, who nodded her head to the side. “I’ve got your laundry,” she said. Constance opened the door more widely for her. The woman came in and put the basket on Constance’s bed, starting to pull out articles and lay them out. Constance walked over and put her casted hand on her mother’s back.

“I can get it, Mom,” she said quietly. “You get back to what you were doing.”

Her mother waved a hand. “I was just cleaning up. I’ve got it. Don’t even worry.”

Constance shook her head. “I want to. Please.” She put her hands on her mother’s arms and gently pushed her to the side. “Thank you, though.”

Her mother sighed and leaned down to kiss her head. “Alright, Cupcake. You can put it away yourself. Oh, Penny’s stuff is in there, too.”

“I’ve got it,” Constance assured her mother and kissed her cheek. The woman smiled warmly before leaving. Constance sighed and turned to the basket, starting to pull out the clothing and starting to sort it. Most of it was her own, as she owned about three times as many clothes as Penny did. Constance pulled out the dryer sheet when it clung to her snowflake sweater. She turned around to put it in the trash can, only to see her new roommate staring at her. She stared back, a little surprised. Even though she saw them every day now, the green eyes were still very striking to her.

Penny blinked slowly before saying, “You don’t have to do that."

Constance looked at the dryer sheet in her hand and back at Penny. Did she… want… it? The girl was strange, but that was a kind of strange that even Penny didn’t possess. Constance awkwardly held the sheet up. “I mean, I guess I don’t have to throw it away.” Maybe she liked that it smelled like lavender? Constance sure enjoyed the smell, so it wasn’t completely odd.

“You don’t have to put away my clothes,” Penny said.

Okay well that made Constance feel a little dumb–

Constance dropped the dryer sheet in the can and walked over to her. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about it,” she insisted. 

“You do not have to manage my clothes,” Penny said.

“Nonsense,” Constance told her, going back to her bed and continuing to lay out the clothes and sorting them. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“I feel bad that you keep doing it.”

“I don’t. My–” She hesitated for an instant, unsure if “my” was really needed. “– Mom could totally do it, but I offered. Besides, it’s better than sitting and playing with a Tamagotchi for hours on end. I’ve always helped out with chores at home, so it helps me feel more… normal.” Constance pushed the laundry basket aside as she started folding their skirts and pants. “Really, it’s fine.”

Penny was quiet for a moment. Constance started humming to herself quietly as she put away the clothing in the dresser. It wasn’t until she was putting her tops on hangers that the soft voice came back to her ears.

“I feel bad about it.”

“Why?”

“You did not ask for me to be here. You did not ask to share a room. And you have to deal with my nightmares and amnesia,” Penny pointed out. Constance looked back at her, frowning slightly. “I am sorry.”

The shorter girl sighed and set down the dress she was holding and went over to her foster sister. She sat by her legs and smiled at her. “Penny, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault you’re in this situation.”

“It is.” Penny’s green eyes flickered with thought, and her expression shifted to a slightly sad one.

Constance reached out and squeezed her hand. “No. No. It isn’t.” She squeezed again. “Being in the foster system? Getting placed with awful people and being mistreated? Not your fault.”

“It isn’t?”

“No!” Constance moved a little bit closer and held Penny’s hands to her chest. “My parents agreed to take you guys in because, well, they could! I chose to let you share my room, because you deserve a place to sleep soundly.” Or soundlessly, as– when Penny wasn’t having nightmares– she tended to sleep so quietly, motionlessly, and deeply that Constance often wondered if she had died in her sleep. “Besides, it’s… I think it’s nice to have you here. You’re a good roommate.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You don’t leave your stuff everywhere, you share snacks with me, and you’re a great listener.” Constance grinned and shrugged. “That’s really good, because I talk way too much.”

“Thank you,” Penny whispered.

“Thank you for keeping me company during the day,” Constance said. “It’s lonely when Wesley’s at school and my parents are working. Also, it’s great having a girl my age to talk to that isn’t Ocean. I love her! Do not get me wrong, okay? But she can be a little… judgy?” She sighed. “My point is, you’re new. And that’s actually great. I love what I have, but… Well, I don’t mind having a little more.”

Penny gazed back at her, a small smile teasing on her lips. Constance smiled a little wider and got Penny to do the same. “Constance…” Penny squeezed her hands back, rather firmly. “You’ve been a lovely host.”

“I’m not a host, and you’re not a parasite or a guest. You’re my roommate, and…” She sighed and held herself back, blushing a little. “Without you, I’d be alone in a house full of boys.” As if on cue, there was a clatter from the room on the other side of the wall. Constance’s head whipped around to look. A brief quiet, a voice, and then a shout.

“We all good, yo!”

“What just happened?” Constance called back.

There was a short pause before Misha’s voice said, “Do not worry about it.”

“Nobody is bleeding,” Ezra added loudly. “Misha’s arm is no less broken than it was an hour ago.”

Constance raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering to Penny. “Oookaaayyy?” She laughed softly, fully turning back to the brunette. “See?” Penny smiled a little more fully this time. She had slowly started smiling more lately. It was comforting to see. “I don’t mind having you all around. Laundry, nightmares, and all.”

“Even when I get scared and… forget who you are?”

“Of course. That falls under ‘and all.’” Constance grinned, gave her hands one last squeeze, and got up to finish her chore.

Penny started talking softly. “Did you know that some species of animals take turns caring for one another’s young? Some creatures like meerkats will take shifts watching over and caring for babies so that the mother can forage. Sometimes, female cats will take turns nursing one another’s litters so that they can feed and clean themselves as well.”

Constance glanced back at her, smiling. “Huh, I didn’t know that. Nature is really awesome, isn’t it?”

“Very awesome.”

After Penny fell quiet, Constance fell into thought. She really didn’t mind sharing her space. She had moved her things to one side of the room. This way, Constance had the bed closer to the window, and Penny’s was in the corner, pressed short-side to the wall with the door. Constance’s two posters, pictures, fairy lights, and stuffed animals were on her side. She’d pushed her clothing to the left side of the closet and dresser so that Penny had equal room. She didn’t need it, but she deserved it. Penny deserved no less just because she was new.

Penny’s side of the room was rather bland. Nothing had been put up on the walls yet. She did have a few toys of her own, including the doll that Constance simply couldn’t bring herself to look at for more than five seconds. She did not want to brush Dolly’s hair, thank you very much.

They’d gotten her pastel green sheets, since she really seemed to like that color. The walls were still a cream color, since Constance thought it was still a nice background to everything she put on her wall. However, it made Penny’s side look a bit sad.

They’d just have to decorate it.

___

28 January 2010

Around three in the morning, Constance woke up to shrill screaming. She jolted awake, gasping and shouting in fright. She fell out of her bed in a tangle of blankets. As she tried to push herself up, pain stabbed through her wrist. She hissed and forced herself to her feet, looking over at Penny, who was squirming a little in her sleep and reaching up as she shouted out. The door opened, and Misha was already standing there. He and Constance scrambled to Penny’s side, reaching out to grab her. Misha caught Penny’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Бля, прокинься. Пенні, це кошмар!” Penny kept screaming. Constance turned to shake her shoulders.

“Penny, Penny, wake up!” Constance begged. When she did wake up, she swatted them both away, pulling even more into the corner and breathing hard. Her hands quickly tangled in her hair, which was already mostly out of the neat braids. It looked all sorts of disheveled now. Constance and Misha watched her, unsure if they should stop her from pulling at her hair. She looked between them, bright eyes wide and frantic. “Hey, shh.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft and light, even though she’d been screaming. She was shaking like someone left naked in the winter. Tears poured from her eyes without her blinking as she gasped and sobbed. Her fingers clenched at the roots, and her arms jerked violently. Her voice came back, getting higher and more desperate. “Oh why, oh why, oh why, oh why?”

“Hey, it was only a nightmare,” Misha said, reaching to take her hand. She gasped and shook her head, sobbing again. Her knuckles turned white.

“Why Lord?” Penny gasped and finally shut her eyes tight. “If this is how I die…”

Constance started crying as well. “Penny, hey…” She held her hands out but didn’t touch her, giving her the space to initiate or refuse that contact. “It’s us. You’re not dead. It was another dream.”

“Why be left with no family and no friends?” Penny asked, choking on her sob. Constance gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh why, oh why, oh why, oh why?!”

Misha hushed her as footsteps were heard. “Penny, we are here. Penny, look at us.”

Penny’s eyes did focus on Misha, and she inhaled shakily. “Oh no soul, and no name?”

“No…” Misha’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Your name is Penny. Your name is Penny Lamb.”

Constance nodded and quickly joined in. “Penny Lamb, remember?”

Penny muttered again, tugging at her hair again. She made a few utterances, but the only part they caught was, “... name?”

“Yes. That’s who you are.” Misha smiled. “Penny Lamb. Do you know who we are?” Penny shook her head. Constance felt her heart shatter. She pressed a hand to her mouth as she tried to not break down.

Then, another voice asked, “Penny?”

Ezra stood at the foot of the bed, looking at Penny from between Misha and Constance. He walked around Constance and offered his hand to his sister. “Penny, look at me.” Penny looked up at him, staring. Ezra frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Penny, I want you to breathe with me. Imagine you have to dive underwater to hide from wasps.”

“Wasps?!”

Ezra nodded firmly. “Yes.”

“Wasps hate water.”

“They do. Now can you take a deep breath like you have to dive?” Penny took that breath. Ezra nodded and held his fingers up. “Keep hiding. Three, two, one. They’re gone. Come back up before you drown.”

Penny let out a breath, most of her panic seeming to go with it. Then, her eyes flickered and she blinked. “Ez– Ezra?”

“Yes?”

“It’s you.”

“It is me. Take another deep breath. The wasps are coming back.”

Penny didn’t do that, instead releasing her hair, grabbing Ezra, and pulling him close. He didn’t resist, holding her tightly as she broke down. Misha and Constance saw several strands of hair tangled in her fingers. Ezra sat up tall and let Penny bawl into his shoulder. He started breathing deeply and loudly, quietly encouraging her to do the same.

More footsteps. Then, Constance saw her parents in the door. She pulled away, letting Ezra try to calm Penny’s breathing. Her father came over and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“She had a really bad nightmare,” Constance said. Her father frowned and hugged her. The nightmares were common for Misha, Penny, and Constance. They chalked it up to just the accident. The one they knew about. The nightmares were a common occurrence. A couple of weeks after Penny and Ezra had officially gotten settled in, Constance’s parents stopped absolutely panicking at every one of them. Normally, they’d at least check on them, but they would leave if it was handled. However, Misha and Constance had no idea how to handle this, no matter how often it had started happening.

“She’s safe. We’ve got her,” Constance tried to assure her mother and father.

Her mother sat on the bed, facing Misha. She looked at Misha with wide eyes, silently freaking out about what had happened. Misha’s eyes were already so red. He looked back, sharing her fear. They couldn’t tell the adults or Ezra that this was so much different. They had no way to explain why this should be more concerning. This wasn’t just because of a nightmare or the initial amnesia. This was a complete loss of self.

Ezra reached over to the bedside and grabbed Dolly, offering her to his sister. Constance stared in discomfort at the cracked, eyeless baby doll. Penny held it to her chest, starting to cry again as she muttered to herself almost inaudibly.

Misha and Constance locked eyes again.

Something was wrong.

___

Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood had been kind enough to replace Misha’s phone, since his old one had been lost and likely destroyed in the accident. It was an old one of Mr. Blackwood’s, and it was a little bit slow, but Misha appreciated it. He’d buy a newer one when he managed to save up the money. How he was going to do that, of course, was tricky. He didn’t have much money of his own. He had an inheritance from his mother, but most of that was in a bank in Ukraine, and he wasn’t able to leave now. He didn’t have a job. He’d been earning money by stealing alcohol from his adoptives and reselling it to some kids at school. Occasionally, if he did a favor for people, he’d get some money for that. As of right now, he had no way of contacting those people, because he didn’t have anyone’s number memorized except for Corey’s. He refused to steal from the Blackwoods, because they were nothing but kind and generous to him. They didn’t give him a serious need for money. He would never have to steal food again. Besides, the phone they had given him was good enough to last him several months. All he needed on it was a few social media apps, the Blackwoods’s phone numbers, and a picture of Talya on the home screen.

All he needed was to call Talya to feel better.

Even if it didn’t always make him feel better.

Misha laughed weakly at the joke Talya had made, almost immediately forgetting what was so funny about it. He was just happy to hear her voice, but he was zoning out. He was so tired, having never gone back to sleep after Penny’s episode. He had been so anxious since then, wanting to be ready if it happened again. It never happened more than once a night, but he couldn’t calm down. He hadn’t really relaxed in years. Alcohol helped his body relax, but it made his brain swirl in almost worse ways. Still, it felt better to have it than not.

So if the juice he had now had wine mixed into it, sue him.

Misha took another sip from the glass, leaning into his headboard. He wanted something stronger, but he refused to steal anything from the Blackwoods. He only mixed in little bits of bottles that were already open, trying to take the edge off. It wasn’t working right now.

“Misha?”

He blinked, eyes coming back into focus as Talya evidently stopped ranting about the band she liked. He hummed in acknowledgement, taking another sip to try and just relax. He knew it wouldn’t help, but denying it was almost worse.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then what was I just talking about?”

Shit, what was she talking about? It was about a band she had started liking. It was about one of the singers– No, it was about their breakup. No! Crap, what was the last thing she’d been talking about.

“It’s about how I am much more attractive than that Johnny boy, yes?” Misha asked, giving her a flirtatious grin to try and brush it off. Hopefully, she’d laugh it off and go back to talking.

She did not. “Misha!”

Crap.

“I’m sorry, my love. I was zoning out.” He sat up a little bit more. “I am listening fully now, I promise.”

Talya sighed and flopped down on her bed, the video going to just blanket for a moment. “You said that three days ago, Misha.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Misha said, smile falling. “I’ve been caught in my own head, I guess.”

Talya took a deep breath and tipped her phone up to show her face again. Her hair wasn’t up now, and it fell in a dirty-blonde frame. Misha smiled, just adoring this absolute angel. “Then what is in your head?” Talya asked, frowning.

Frowning. Did she not want to hear?

Misha shrugged. “Just… stuff.” What was he supposed to say? “It’s not that big a deal.”

Talya frowned even deeper. “Clearly, it is. You have a bad attention span, but you always pay attention to me. What’s wrong, Misha?”

“Just…” Misha felt his insides twist, moving to cover his heart. “It’s about the accident and shit. What else?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late. I am worried.” Talya’s thumb moved over the camera, and she looked right into it so Misha’s eyes met hers. He usually got a lovely tingle in his spine when she did that– a connection as pure as they could get across the Atlantic. This time, that tingling came with fear. He didn’t want to damage her with this. He couldn’t risk hurting her because he was lashing out. “Talk to me, my sweet.”

About what? “There’s not much to talk about. Everything just fuckin’ sucks. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“What about it sucks?” Talya asked softly.

Misha ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly. “Like, all of it. One of my arms is totally fucked, and I am just getting out of the stupid sling.”

“At least you’re getting out of it.”

Misha scoffed. “Yeah, after months of pain and immobility. I can’t use my best hand for most things. It still feels weird, and every time I wear sleeves or even think of wearing the sling, I just wanna–”

Misha slammed his left hand into the mattress, grunting. The force knocked his phone down from the pillow he had it propped on, and he just left it. Misha felt himself tearing up, and he did not want Talya to see him crying over something so stupid. It wasn’t even a real issue; he was just being ridiculous.

Talya was quiet for a moment, and Misha almost wondered if she’d gotten up and left. He laid down, feeling guilty. He didn’t want to alsh out around her like that. He didn’t want to be the angriest boy in town, but he was so angry. His mental health was crashing, he was still figuring out how to deal with one good hand, and the only people he had were hurting even more than him.

“My sweet?”

Talya was there for him, but she didn’t know what he was going through. He loved her so much he had no idea what to do. It just hurt, and he was throwing out whatever he could to fend off the vulnerability.

“Misha?”

“Hm?”

“You know you can talk to me about anything, yes?”

Misha sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay…”

Misha wiped away tears. This wasn’t helping. He could feel the anger brewing, so he had to end the call. He didn’t know what was about to come out of his mouth, so Talya couldn’t hear it. “I am sorry, Sunflower. I have to go.”

“Now? But I’m free for another hour or so…”

Could he talk to her for another hour? He cherished every moment with her, but he didn’t cherish the feeling of holding back just so he didn’t lash out at her.

“I have to go now.”

“Why?”

“Just because, okay?”

“That doesn’t make sense. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Talya!” Misha covered the camera as he grabbed his phone again, not wanting to show how upset he was in general. His emotional walls went up, and his finger hovered over the red button.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine. Goodbye.”

“Alright. I love you, my–”

Misha hung up and pushed his phone under a pillow.

He could have gone to Constance or someone. Instead, he buried his face in a pillow and screamed. What the fuck was worng with him?

Chapter Text

31 January 2010

While Noel and Ms. Gruber were making dinner, Ocean lay on her bed, trying to focus on reading her book. Or at least comprehend a whole paragraph. Or remember what a single one of these words meant. Or go through a single sentence without tearing up all over again.

Ocean had spent a good ten minutes crying silently. She didn’t want the Grubers to hear and make it a big deal, but she wanted to break down. She wanted to go back in time, find her past self, and punch her in the throat! All she could think about was how guilty she was for everything. Just like in her coma, she played over the events of their afterlife over and over again. She heard her own voice confidently spitting insults at the others while she bragged about herself. She saw the others staring at her in anger and even disgust. She could smell the dusty place she had planned to leave her only friends. She could feel them tense as she got nearer– feel Ricky’s arm trying to pull its way out of her grasp. How could she?

You said the only thing your best friend would ever accomplish is being an organ donor!

Little orphan a-hole.

That kinda really super hurt.

And then I rode that rollercoaster. Thanks.

Could you keep it in your pants for two seconds, you horrible succubus?!

Just wondering, Ocean… Do you think you’d ever, kinda, like, vote for me?

I would never vote for you.

She felt pressure all over her body, guilt squeezing her like a hydraulic press. Ocean tried to figure out what the feeling was and how to fix it, but the only things that came to mind were screaming, hitting something, and trying to find a way to punish herself for everything. She didn’t, however, want the Grubers to notice that. So, she just cried and tried to focus on not vomiting from how hard she’d sobbed.

Ocean set down the book and hugged a pillow, starting to cry again. Was this the price of getting to live on past the accident? To have voices screaming in her head? She could hear each of their voices melting into one another, reminding her of her worst behavior. She didn’t even know why she had done most of that, aside from just being a selfish person. How could she? How could she treat good people like that?

Ocean would never get to move on from her past and her trauma. She guessed she deserved that. After everything she had said and done to the others, they were still tied to her. They shared death and were now trapped together. But if she didn’t forget, she couldn't make the same mistakes. If they ever really forgave her, which was doubtful, this wouldn’t allow her to slip back. So, she’d hold herself accountable for everything. She’d never let herself forget.

For a long while, she laid there, just letting the guilt wash off. She felt less like she was being punished after she calmed down, but uneasiness rested with her.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Ocean, dinner is ready,” Noel said. “We made veggie soup.”

Ocean sat up, scrubbing her face. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

If, when they were eating, the Grubers noticed how puffy her eyes were or how stuffed her nose sounded, they didn’t comment on it.

___

Noel screamed, reaching for Misha desperately as they fell freely. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ocean and Constance trying to get a hold of one another as the whole group continued to fall and fall helplessly. Noel watched as the ground sped up towards him. He looked up at Misha, starting to cry from fear. He knew they’d have to die, but he didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t want to die without love, real friends, his mother, or anything. He stretched his fingers to the point of hurting, but he still couldn’t reach Misha. Misha, however, didn’t even try to reach back.

Noel pulled away, crying even more. He spun his head around and instead reached out for Constance and Ocean. Constance reached back towards him, but she couldn’t move away from Ocean, who was clutching her like she could save her. They were dying anyway; it would do nothing except comfort her. Before Noel could offer a hand to Ocean, they all slammed into the ground. The crunching and snapping of bones echoed through his head, a haunting memory. Noel tried to look around, but the others were just mangled messes. The only one still moving was Ocean. Ocean.

Noel looked over at her, blood getting in one eye. Ocean was kneeling over Constance’s body, muttering and sobbing. Noel felt grief twinge in his gut. It was just him and Ocean. Even as he tried to move towards her, she screamed, louder and louder until he felt like his eardrums might burst.

2 February 2010

Noel sat up, feeling tears fresh on his cheeks. He wiped them with the sleeve of his nightshirt and got up. Reality fell back into place around him. He wasn’t falling. He wasn’t alone. He was alive. It was just him and Ocean in the house; his mother worked Tuesday nights now.

He opened his door, and the sound of crying became louder. He was more awake now, and the concern settled in. He quickly moved to the guest room and tried the knob, which was luckily unlocked. He poked his head in, seeing Ocean sitting up and sobbing into her knees. He took a deep breath and pushed his own nightmare aside. It was unpleasant, but he wasn’t left horrified. Ocean, on the other hand, seemed to be.

It was routine these days. If his mother was home, she’d be the one to check on their nightmares. Noel refrained from screaming, because he wanted his mother and Ocean to get sleep. If he really needed someone to help him calm back down, he would go to his mother’s room. That is, he did when she was around. The last several weeks had brought on new financial difficulties. Since Noel was still not back to work just yet, his mother had picked up more and more shifts. She was gone all but one or two days of the week now, meaning Ocean’s distress fell on him. Why? Because Noel was decent enough not to let her suffer. She deserved a lot, but not this. None of them deserved this.

Noel sat next to her, and Ocean looked up when she felt the mattress move. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Ocean started scrubbing away her tears almost violently. She looked away from Noel and huffed. “Sorry, I’ll keep it down.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Noel said quietly. “I’m not mad you’re being loud. Mom’s not here, so I had to check on you.”

“No, you don’t. I can manage myself,” Ocean snipped, eyes falling. Her body forced her to inhale sharply, and she sobbed softly. "You can go back to sleep.”

Noel groaned as she pulled out her hair tie and grabbed her hairbrush off the side table. She started aggressively pulling it through the tangles, crying out in pain when she tugged her scalp a few times. Noel stared at her, unimpressed. She glared at him and groaned, still trying to fix her hair. Noel raised an eyebrow. “How’s that going?”

“Shut up!” Ocean yelled, dragging her brush through her hair again. There was a sort of tearing sound, and she grunted in frustration. “Are you here because you wanna see me struggle, wanna help, or because you have to?”

Noel rolled his eyes. “If you would let me help you– Wait, what do you mean ‘ha–”

“I don’t need help!”

“Then why am I here?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then I don’t know!”

Ocean screamed as she tugged her hair harshly, clasping a hand to her scalp afterwards. She glared at Noel as though it were his fault she’d done it. “Then get out!”

Noel scoffed and got up, slapping his thighs. “Fine, fine! I was gonna offer to make you tea or help with your stupid hair. But since you don’t want help, pull all your hair out for all I care!”

“Good, get out!”

“I am, holy fuck!”

Noel marched out, the door not quite slamming behind him but not shutting softly either. Ocean grabbed the nearest pillow and shrieked into it. Noel covered his face in his hands and screamed into those as well.

He stormed into his room, ignoring the sound of Ocean crying and ranting to herself angrily. There was no way he'd be able to sleep now, so he grabbed his phone. He didn't even have a chance to open anything before a text popped up. He smiled softly, relaxing as he opened the message.

[am bored and do not want 2 sleep again. call?]

Noel immediately called Misha, setting the phone on his pillow and trying to get comfortable. Misha quickly picked up.

“Hello, Slovesnyk. Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” Noel asked softly.

“I uh… I did not dream well. I am in living room so I do not disturb Ezra. Why are you awake?”

Noel sighed and hugged a pillow tighter. “Ocean woke me up,” he fibbed. She had, but that wasn't the only reason he didn't want to sleep right now. “You can probably hear her screaming in the background.”

“I cannot hear it.”

Noel chuckled softly. “Good. She's throwing a fit like a banshee.”

“Why? Did you correct her grammar? She throws fits when I do that.”

Noel laughed softly again, but his face fell. “No, no… I literally tried to check on her and make sure she wasn't, you know, re-living a violent death, and she got pissed.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, but it’s not like I can do anything about it… She pushed me away, like, immediately and then started fussing over her hair.”

“Sounds like Ocean.”

Noel hummed. “I'm guessing Penny and Constance aren't like that with you?”

“No… Constance is usually very… shit, what is the English word… cuddle-wanting when she has nightmares.” Noel laughed softly at Misha's new word. “Penny quiets down as soon as she gets calm, which… I mean, it gets tricky when she forgets things for a moment, but she’s sweet.”

Noel sighed wistfully. “Can we trade?”

There was a warm chuckle from the Ukrainian. “Trade? No. Not for all the гривні in the world.” He hummed again. “But if we all spent a night together, I could take Ocean next time. You can get my…”

“Your what?”

“Забудьте про це. Is not important.”

Noel raised an eyebrow. “No, I wanna know. What were you saying?”

“I could not think of the right words. Do not worry about it.”

Noel hummed. “Fine…” He waited for a moment before asking, “How are you hanging up?”

Silence.

“Mish?”

“I do not know what to do, Noel…”

Noel frowned and shifted to hold his pillow closer. “What do you mean?”

A sniffle. “Talya is my everything. And… We started talking more regularly again, but the last time we called, I got upset with her. I know she was only trying to help, but like… I don’t know how she could help.” Another sniffle. “I can’t talk to her about the things I talk to you and the others about.”

Noel laughed humorlessly. “I know what it’s like. I didn’t used to hide things from my mother, but now, I can’t tell her anything about this. I can tell her about, like, the stress from the, uh, family stuff… But I can’t tell her I dream about that time I temporarily died. I–” Noel paused and took a breath. “I can really only talk to you and Constance about it, since I can’t message Ricky and all.”

“I get it. That kid needs a phone.”

“He does, but good luck convincing his parents he needs one.”

“I will force them. I wanna be able to talk to him without breaking into their house.”

“… You do what now?”

“Sometimes, I uh… I visit Ricky through his window. He usually unlocks it, so it’s not like I’m actually breaking anything. I just… Ricky lives closer, and sometimes, I just need a change of scenery. Getting locked in a basement will do that to you.”

Noel swallowed a reply of something along the lines of “that’s not normal what the fuck.” Instead, he softly asked, “Is… Is everything alright between you and Talya?”

Silence on Misha’s end. Noel immediately wished he could take it back, but it was out there. Instead of backtracking, he tried to give Misha the space to decide.

“I… I wish I could say it was.” Misha’s audio became muffled, and Noel could just see him pressing a pillow over the microphone to avoid being heard crying. It didn’t work, but Noel was going to pretend it did. “I can’t tell her everything, and I have a feeling she either wants all of it or none of it. I don’t know what to tell her, because I know she wouldn’t believe me. Talya is… She doesn’t like being teased or lied to. Unless I could prove that to her, she’d assume it was a gross joke. I don’t want to do that to her. I just… I need to recover from this. I need to get well enough for her. She deserves a man who can take care of her, not a man she must always take care of, you know? That’s not Talya.” Noel frowned, but Misha continued. “I just need to heal sooner rather than later. That way, when I graduate, I can just go to her… Then everything will be fine. I’ll have my Talya, a home with her, a family with hers… As soon as I can get to her, it’ll be perfect.”

Noel waited for a moment, wishing he could do something for him. He wished he could let Misha cry into his shoulder again. At least, he wished he knew what to say. He didn’t like the way Misha was viewing his health. There was no timeline on his healing, and Talya wouldn’t make everything perfect. Noel had since been proved wrong about Talya being a catfish– a theory he swore never to let slip to Misha now– but he still didn’t think she was genuine. Misha saw her as this perfect, benevolent goddess, but Noel just had a feeling it was all too good to be true. Misha wouldn’t hear of it, though. The best Noel could do was be on standby for when he got a reality check.

“Maybe… You really think you’re going to leave Uranium that soon?”

“I hope so. I hate this place.”

“Are you that eager to get away from me?”

Misha scoffed, but it quickly turned into a warm laugh. “Never, Noel Gruber. You are one of the only good things about this place.”

Noel’s cheeks got warm. “Really?”

“Duh. You are grounded, but you are still fun. You are one of the few interesting people here. If I am trying to get away from anyone here, it’s not you.”

“Who are you trying to escape, then?”

“Adam and Kelly Greene.” Noel winced. Misha’s voice suddenly held venom at the mention of his ex-adoptive parents, but the venom vanished the moment Misha spoke again. “Thank you for calling me, Slovesnyk.” Noel hummed softly, letting his eyes slip shut as he tried to figure out what the nickname meant.

“Anytime, Soleilounette.”

Misha laughed softly, apparently appreciating his own nickname. Noel smiled to himself, glad Misha didn’t fully understand what it meant.

They needed to talk like this more often.

___

4 February 2010

Everyone chatted or laughed softly over hot chocolate. Noel wasn’t really paying attention to his mug, letting it cool as he dramatically talked with his hands. Ricky had given him the floor to talk about Monique Gibeau, and he hadn’t stopped ranting for nearly half an hour. Ricky listened, switching between nibbling at their fingers and sipping from the green mug they’d been lent. Constance and Penny whispered to one another every now and then, smiling as they watched Noel go on and on and on about how Monique met her pimp, Claude. Misha appreciated Noel’s storytelling, but he couldn’t focus on the poet. Instead, he kept looking over at Ocean. She kept staring into her hot chocolate, smiling only when Constance nudged her to make a joke. She didn’t seem to be paying attention…

As annoying as she was, Ocean was still part of the group. Misha had heard about her fight with Noel and, in spite of himself, was rather worried about the ginger. Ocean had been acting weird since the hospital, but that was to be expected. They’d all been acting differently. Ricky was clingier, Noel was more anxious, Constance was smiling more, and Ocean was quieter. Misha could tell how tense Ocean and Noel felt every time Noel looked at her. At some point, Ocean just flinched when Noel said her name.

Misha was beginning to think that fight was worse than Noel had made it out to be. It made sense, though. Nobody recounts a story to make themself look bad. He couldn’t even blame Noel.

But when Noel rolled his eyes as Ocean’s weak laugh, Misha figured it was best to not let it fester. He stood up from the couch, giving Ricky a quick squeeze on the shoulder to let him know he was moving. Ricky smiled quickly but went back to Noel almost immediately. Misha took Constance and Penny’s cocoa mugs and tapped Ocean’s leg with his foot. She flinched. Again…

“Hey, Zauchka,” he said quietly. “I’m going to do the dishes. Come with me?”

Ocean frowned, eyes flickering over the others. She didn’t want to completely bail on Misha, but she didn’t know why he asked her instead of one of his flatmates or best friends. At that moment, she fully realized how deep everyone else was in conversation. Misha was probably only asking her so he didn’t have to bother them. She nodded, picking up the pink mug she’d used and grabbing her cane. It contrasted so much with the one Ricky had across their lap. Ocean tried to use hers as little as possible, so she left it white and neat-looking. Ricky’s, on the other hand, was plastered with cat, planet, and videogame stickers.

When Misha saw them near each other, he realized how depressing Ocean’s looked.

In the kitchen, Ocean sat on a stool by the island, continuing to sip. “I can help you in a moment. I’ll try to finish this soon.” She sipped at her cocoa again, mostly trying to avoid eye contact.

Misha shrugged, setting the mugs on the counter and starting to clear out one side of the sink. “You do not have to. I just did not want to be alone.” He looked over his shoulder to grin at her. “But uh… If it doesn’t hurt to stand, I could use a hand.”

He lifted up his right arm to prove a point, weakly moving his fingers, which didn’t do much. The weakness in his arm was becoming more and more apparent, as the muscles hadn’t been kept up in the last few months. The sight should have been at least a bit sad, but Ocean just found herself laughing. It wasn’t funny, but Misha’s stupid smile was priceless. It was like he was asking her to laugh, and the abruptness of the honestly awful joke made it easier for her to. It started as a soft snort, but it quickly just shifted into messy giggles. It just tumbled out like it had been waiting. Misha’s smile got even wider, and he dramatically let his hand flop. Again, it shouldn’t have been funny, but Ocean laughed a little harder because of how unexpected the physical gag was.

How long had it been since she’d actually laughed?

Ocean finished her cocoa a moment later and scooted her stool closer so she could sit and still help Misha. As she washed, he put away dry dishes. He took what she’d done, rinsed it, and left it on the drying rack. It was simple, but it was something. It wasn’t like awkwardly washing a plate at the Gruber’s house. This time, Ocean was smiling, working with someone. Even playing fields, different jobs, and ever-growing smiles.

How long had it been since she’d actually smiled?

“Have you been re-learning how to write?” Ocean asked as she took time to scrub some food off of a plate. “You’re going to need it when we get back to school.”

How was this bitch asking about school right now? Misha resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even playfully. “Why would I have to re-learn?”

Ocean glanced at the arm at Misha’s side. “Oh, I, well, you know, your arm is…” She gestured vaguely to it. “Sorry, I just–”

“Oh!” Misha laughed softly. “I get it. But I will be fine. I have another hand.”

Ocean skimmed her memories to try and remember if Misha was left-handed. She’d rarely seen him doing homework– she’d only seen him sit in front of it or sleep on it. What hand had he used to draw genitals on the chalkboard in choir?

“I thought you were right-handed?”

“Yes, but no.” Ocean raised an eyebrow, refusing to ask for clarification aloud. “I am, uh…” A look of pure confusion crossed his face, and he suddenly started tapping his temple with his good hand. “What is the word? When your hands are bisexual?”

Ocean stared at him for a few seconds, trying so hard to figure out what that even meant. Misha just kept gesturing poorly with both hands, miming different actions as if that would explain.

Suddenly, Ocean felt it click. And she burst out laughing. She didn’t even respond, dropping her plate and sponge back in the water. She barely wiped her hands off on her sweater before she pressed them over her mouth to muffle the sound. Misha smiled down when she wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Ocean laugh aside from the time they saw her in the bumper cars. Most of the time, she obviously faked it to move the conversation along. On that ride, she’d been cackling maniacally and trying to kill them all. Right now? She was laughing.

“Do– You– Misha–” She almost didn’t sound like she was breathing. Ocean suddenly gasped in some air and looked up at him, face flushed bright pink. “Do you mean ambidextrous?!”

“That’s the one, yeah!” Ocean continued giggling, earning a brief glimpse from Mrs. Blackwood as she walked by the doorway. Misha leaned on the counter. “I can write and draw with my right, but I type and jack– I, uh, type better with my left. I can figure out how to write.”

Instead of responding, Ocean just calmed down her laughter, wiping away a stray tear with the end of her sleeve. When she finally started breathing normally again, she tugged his shirt and pulled him into a hug. Misha immediately made a shelter with his arms, hugging her tightly but carefully. Ocean let out what sounded like a final laugh. “Thank you, Misha.”

“Any time, Zauchka.”

A moment later, they pulled apart and went back to the dishes like nothing had happened.

___

3 February 2010

Ricky’s tongue poked out of his mouth as he carefully swerved around a corner. The handling in the game was sort of awful, but after playing it as much as they did, it was barely an issue. They almost effortlessly came in first place yet again. Playing against NPCs was hardly ever a real challenge.

Ricky frowned as he started a new round, starting to get bored but not knowing what else to do. He selected a character again and did the same thing all over again, easily taking and keeping the lead. They’d been at it for two hours, and their arms were honestly starting to get sore. He usually didn’t care, but he didn’t think it was worth it today. So, at the end of this round, he shut off his TV and left his controller on his nightstand.

They thought about picking up a book, but they felt tired now. They didn’t know that they could focus on a book when it felt like everything else was swimming. They glanced around the room, wondering if they had any puzzles they wouldn’t have to leave their room to get.

That’s when they noticed a plump snowshoe cat napping in the sunlight that was on the corner of their bed. Ricky’s bed was pressed up against the window, which he’d had his father do about a decade ago so he could see the stars at night. The teen grinned and whistled quietly, trying to gently rouse the elderly cat.

Galactus, come here, buddy. If you wanna nap in the warm, you can nap with me. Besides, my chest is hurting again. Your purring is going to help. Come here. I want to cuddle with you! Come cuddle with me, please.

Ricky sighed when the whistling didn’t work. He reached over and tugged at the blanket so that it shifted under Galactus. He smiled when he finally poked his head up, meowing loudly. Ricky made grabby hands for him, whistling again.

Please, come here. I need purr therapy. Come on, I know you want to. You can go back to sleep.

Galactus meowed as he got up and walked over, shaking a little bit. Ricky frowned, knowing how that felt. Galactus might have been his favorite cat, not that he didn’t adore his others. They shared a lot of the same issues physically, which was probably why they had bonded so quickly. Ricky frowned and scooped Glactus into his hands when he was close enough, earning a soft meow. He shuffled to lay down, pulling the chubby cat closer to his chest. Galactus rolled a bit to get comfortable, not objecting at all. Ricky grinned when the old guy nuzzled against him, starting to purr.

Isn’t it so amazing that purring is healing? To think, my best friends can emit a frequency that just stops pain. All I have to do is get you content, and you guys make it all better.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the cat’s head.

Especially you, Galactus. You get me like no other living thing. I love everyone, but you know how it feels. I wish I could purr right back at you and relieve your pain. I hope the snuggles make up for my inability to be perfect like you.

Ricky shut his eyes, slowly stroking Galactus’ fur until his arms really got too tired and fell next to him.

There was so little in this world better than snuggling with a cat. They were nature’s pain relief, best friend, and warm pillows. There was nothing to do but try and project his love onto the darn things, wishing he could just be psychic and communicate that way. It was cozy and relaxing, unlike anything else he could try to occupy himself.

He imagined himself actually sending his thoughts to the warm cat. I love you, Galactus. You’re the best cat in the world, but you can’t tell the others.

Galactus suddenly pulled back and looked at Ricky. Ricky smiled, practically feeling the confusion radiate off of him. Then, Galactus closed his eyes and nuzzled into Ricky even more, purring more loudly. Their eyes pricked with tears as they snuggled the cat a little closer.

Just as Ricky almost fell asleep, he felt little paws and claws on his side. He opened one eye and looked up at Luke, who was kneading at his sweater before deciding to curl up and start purring.

Where on Earth did you come from? Luke’s head swung over to him, and his head tilted in curiosity. You and your sister are usually so, so much louder than this.

As if on cue, Leia hopped onto the bed with a loud whine and hiss as she nearly fell. Ricky chuckled softly. The twins were deaf, so their ability to be sneaky was just about nonexistent. Luke meowed loudly when his sister came up to join them, still just kind of gazing into Ricky’s brain.

What are you little miscreants planning? Ricky pretended to ask them. Leia looked over at him, tail flicking the way it did when she saw someone new through the window or tried new foods.

Then, they both started meowing rather loudly, and Leia reached to swat Ricky. Ricky raised an eyebrow, feeling Luke stick his nose where his shirt lifted up and trying to lick him. Ricky sighed and reached over, grabbing Luke by the scruff.

Why are you exploring me? You know me. It’s me, your Ricky.

He dragged him over his head, even as he whined in protest. Ricky dropped the kitten by his head and gently stroked his nose to calm him down. Luke let out a loud meow before lying down. Ricky kept stroking his nose until he closed his eyes. The purring started, loud and comforting in Ricky’s ear. Just then, Leia got up and tried to attack him as well.

She started smacking at his arm, lightly scratching him the way she did with new toys… Why was she acting so weird?

What is up with you two right now?

Ricky snatched her and placed her by his stomach, closer to Galactus. He started scratching behind Leia’s ear until she also calmed down and curled up.

With peace restored, Ricky shut his eyes again and went back to cuddling Galactus.

I’m not that lonely. I have cats. What is better in life than being surrounded by love? I want to be here for them for as long as possible. Where would I rather be than with my cats? With my friends, maybe. They’re all busy, though. I’m sure it’s a lot to get used to…

Ricky kissed Galactus on the head, and the elderly cat gave him a soft mewl. The purring made him feel better, and Ricky noted that, now, his chest wasn’t hurting as much anymore. They sighed with relief, starting to drift off once again to the warmth and sound of purring.