Arc 2.5

((Are you surprised? Well here we are, the first TDL short has finally arrived! After this will come the second, centered on the Defectors: Ambre, Sarah, and Penwood, and then Talent de Lune will be back in full. Before you hop into this story, a foreword.

It's decently long, about 5k words. Contains a TON of references to TDL Chapters 10, 11, and 12. There is past child abuse implied in the latter half, and the narrator briefly spirals into self-criticism at a point prior to that. But the end is sweet! Take care while reading.))

---

Contrary to his expectations, Fae is settling into life at Talent de Dal. Like, really settling in. To the point where Jupiter, Aidyn, and Eight are starting to give him responsibilities and work to do.

Today marks the two-month anniversary of his arrival at Talent de Dal. Him and the other eleven ex-gladiators, that is. Everyone celebrated their one-month anniversary as well, and it was so awkward for Fae that he had to stand in the corner while Aidyn tried to coax him out with cake. Now, as October begins, Fae has gotten comfortable enough for Eight to request his help in setting up the celebration. It’s going to be bittersweet this time, because some of the gladiators are leaving for Spia.

Hermes—no, Aulani—told Fae about it last week. She’s talkative, even with him, the antisocial one who’d been scheduled to punch someone’s lights out every other week. Most of the other gladiators are skittish around him, and for good reason, he was the most intimidating fighter among them and he’d been the one to haze them upon their initiation to the Colosseum. Aulani has always been friendly, though. They’d been matched up against each other often enough that maybe she’d just gotten used to him.

She caught Fae in the greenhouse—a place he’d grown fond of—to tell him the news.

Rocky, Thunder, and Lightbender respectively, as Fae had known them before. Fae had hazed all of them but Matt, who’d been a gladiator the longest. Matt had always seemed old…if you could call 26 old. But to Fae—who’d been 17 when he was conscripted, and the rest of them—who hovered around 20 with a few young outliers Fae didn’t know all that well, Matt was their wise senior.

Aulani elaborated. “We’re gonna hitch a ride on Rivergirl’s soul-stream next Saturday.”

“She can transport physical bodies?”

“Only on Saturdays,” Aulani said cheekily, and she winked. Fae didn’t know much about Rivergirl, who talked kind of like a hippy and hung out with Eight—an activity that consisted mostly of them sitting in her room listening to records that played ‘Awesomesauce Ocean Sounds’. But Rivergirl had a Talent that worked like teleportation when it wasn’t just astral projection, and that was helpful when TDD members needed to travel without the risk of crossing state lines unauthorized.

“We’re going to Spia,” Aulani said, “so we’ll say hi to Talent de Lune real quick. Max worked things out so we’ll have a place to stay and a job if we can’t find either of those things on our own.”

Fae had only known Max for about a day or so, but Jupiter, Aidyn, and Eight talked so much that he could now tell you Max’s favorite movie, favorite song, and favorite food—mole chichilo he had in Oaxaca when he was 5. The recipe was a secret and he’s never managed to recreate it or find a restaurant that makes it the exact same way. Just send him lofthouse cookies instead, he’s not so picky about that and they’re his guilty pleasure.

“I’m surprised to hear Zacharie is going,” Fae admitted. “I thought he hated traveling.”

Aulani laughed. “He does. But Matt wanted to look for his old friend and I wanted to see more of the world, so he said he’d come. He’s gonna be a grump about it, probably. Did you ever meet Matt’s friend? She was retired before I got kidnapped, so I never did, but you were there before me.”

Fae shook his head. He was pretty sure they’d never crossed paths—Matt had always seemed lonely, even when Fae first met him. But there had been so many gladiators sent away and exchanged when the crowds got bored of them or they were badly hurt in a fight; it was all a blur. Fae wasn’t sure.

He refocused. “Zacharie is leaving because you’re leaving?”

Aulani’s cheeks darkened. “Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He and I… Well, recently, we’ve gotten…close, you know?”

Fae flustered and looked away. Oh. He hadn’t known that.

“I know it’s too early and we should focus on our own personal recoveries and journeys and all that,” Aulani rambled, even though Fae hadn’t said anything. “I know. But, like…” She blushed further, throwing up her hands. “He gets me.”

“I don’t think it’s too early,” Fae said.

Aulani stared at him, eyes wide. Then she smiled, bright and mischievous. “I see,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You and Aidyn, I think you make a cute couple—”

“We are not a couple,” Fae snapped, ears burning. “We don’t— We’re not a couple.”

“So, you and Eight…?”

“No.”

“Jupiter?”

“No.” He grimaced, locking eyes with the ground. He was on fire. “No, I’m not… I’m not.”

Aulani gasped. “All three?”

“No!”

She laughed. “I’m just teasing you. But, you know…I think it could happen. Jupiter and Eight and Aidyn, they seem like…hmm. What’s the word? Poly…something? Anyway, I think you’d fit in with them. I think they like you differently than they like everyone else.”

Fae rubbed at his face, still warm. “No, I… No, it’s not different. That isn’t true. They wouldn’t…like me.”

Aulani’s smile turned a little sad. “Give it a try, at least. Ask them about it.”

He didn’t respond.

Aulani offered him a hug, and Fae froze up before incrementally relaxing into it. “You’re likable,” she asserted. “Have some confidence.”

How?

Aulani squeezed him and then let go, patting his shoulders with finality. “Okay!” she said. “Give it a try.”

Fae didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded.

---

Eight greets him in the dining hall with open arms and a huge smile.

“Hi, Eight.” Unable to escape the usual bear hug—and largely unwilling, Fae pats them on the back and waits. Eight’s hugs are always warm, like they’ve been waiting to see him forever and they’re so glad he’s finally here. It’s a little embarrassing how nice that is.

“What’s the temperature today?” Eight asks, a twinkle in their 20-sided die-eyes. This close to them, Fae can read ‘outlook good’, though his vision is mediocre on the left and worse on the right.

“I suppose it…feels like a ‘boy’ day, potentially,” Fae fumbles out. Eight offered him pronoun pins in his first week at TDD because he gets weird about bracelets and necklaces these days, weird about things someone could use to hold onto him, but Fae usually forgets to wear them. Eight took no offense, and in fact told him conspiratorially, “My eyesight’s bad anyway. I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell which pin you were wearing unless I got close like this.” Then they leaned in to jokingly stare at Fae’s chest, and Fae spooked and accidentally elbowed them in the chin.

These days, he doesn’t startle so much when people get close to him, but the only ones who don’t need to ask permission first are Aidyn, Eight, and Jupiter. Fae refuses to examine this.

“Wonderful!” Eight cheers, because they’re the sort of person who says ‘wonderful’ unironically. “I’m feeling kind of femme right now. We’re like a pair!” It wouldn’t be a very charming thing to hear from anyone else, but it’s charming when coming from Eight. Fae blushes and can’t hold back a smile.

They’re the first person Fae’s ever been able to talk gender with. It’s nice.

The two of them get to work. “What do you think, darling?” Eight asks, a few minutes in. “Red streamers, purple streamers, or blue streamers. Maybe all three?”

Fae chuckles, still blushing for no discernible reason. “Don’t get greedy,” he quips.

“No!” Eight cries dramatically, like the streamers mean something. “It’s not greedy to accept what you deserve if someone’s offering it.”

“Tri-colored streamers?”

“Yes,” Eight says, smiling nervously. Fae swears their cheeks are darkening. “And balloons! And cake! Everyone deserves streamers and cake.”

It feels like Fae’s missed something obvious. He tries to push past the atmosphere. “Magic Eight.” He beckons them closer. They obey without thinking.

Eight is a couple inches taller than Fae, but it feels like they’re looking up at him. A little awkward, Fae looks into their eyes. “Should we hang up all three streamers?”

Eight is definitely blushing. ‘Ask again later,’ their eyes say.

---

Spider asked for help with her hair, the other day. Though the two of them are somewhat awkward with each other, Fae volunteered to assist.

All of them have already spent two months at Talent de Dal, but Spider still hasn’t told anyone her name. When Jupiter asked her in the beginning, Spider smiled obliquely and explained that she was not all that fond of the one I had before being plucked up by the Colosseum. ‘Spider’ isn’t very classy, but for now it does the job. I’ll let you know if that changes.

Fae knew a thing or two about not being fond of your name. The one he’d used before his captivity had also been ill fitting. ‘Fae’ had been an alternative he’d contemplated, one he’d never said aloud in more than a whisper to himself before Aidyn came around. Now it was just his name, and he liked that.

They met on the second floor balcony, overlooking the pool and neatly blanketed by the shadow of the clay roof tiles. It was starting to get colder, so there weren’t many people in the water. Fae found himself squinting and considering the possibility that the colorful blur floating on an inner tube-shaped blur was Rivergirl.

Sipping a soda on the lounge chair, Spider had an actual hammock attached to her hair.

She’d taken up hobbies of knitting, weaving, and the like to deal with its speedy and unmanageable growth. Like bamboo, Eight had suggested once, and Spider had laughed brightly, as she so rarely did.

Fae greeted her and helped her tie off the loose ends before cutting it near her collarbone. Spider sighed with relief and shook her head. “It’s so light when it’s this short. But tomorrow, it’ll be halfway down my back.”

Feeling equal parts sympathetic and out of line, Fae asked, “Is there anything you can do to keep it from growing?”

“Do you remember that boy from Talent de Lune, the one with the nullification Talent? The girl with all the arms had this bracelet of his braided hair, and it could suppress her Talent when she needed to be inconspicuous. I didn’t know about it until after they left. C'est la vie!”

Fae nodded and bundled up the hammock for something to do.

Spider sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “Before all this, I had really nice hair.”

Fae blinked up at her.

“Well, it was hard to manage,” she clarifies. “Some strands were coiled very tightly, and others were much less so. But I was very good at working with it, and I had an excellent sense of style.” Spider sighed again, wistfully. “Now I’ve got straight, boring silk.” She gestured at her hair.

Fae assumed most people would consider pink silk anything but boring, but picturing how Spider might’ve looked in the past had him shockingly sad at the thought that he’d never see her like that in reality.

“And anyway, those Talent suppressor cuffs they made use of back at the Colosseum never returned my hair to normal, so I don’t have high hopes for that Talent de Lune boy either.” Spider shrugged. “There are things you lose that you can never get back. But it’s pointless to get hung up on the pointless.” With an enigmatic smile, she took the hammock from Fae’s limp hands and left the balcony.

---

Once Fae is done helping Eight, they send him off to Jupiter. Apparently, she needs him as a taste-tester.

She’s waiting for him in the communal kitchen, eying the door and standing in front of the food-covered counter like she can keep all the dishes a surprise if she stretches out her arms far enough. Jupiter is 5’4” and stocky; even if such a thing was possible, she could never manage it. Instead of coming off as silly or immature, Fae’s first thought is cute. Argh.

She relaxes when she realizes that the kitchen intruder is only him. “Good, you’re here. I need you to try this.”

Jupiter’s curt as ever. For a while, that intimidated Fae. Stoicism tends to remind them of their father, a man they are loath to think about. In darker moments, Fae can only see it as an inherited trait, and they gravitate toward brighter, more expressive people as a result. Obviously, Jupiter is an exception to that rule. Underneath the flat affect, she’s generous and awkward and passionate. She lives in the moment and never holds grudges. It’s so contrary to Fae’s instinct that they find themself captivated.

Jupiter picks up a bowl of what looks to be frosting. Beside her is an unfrosted cake. She takes a spoonful and passes it to Fae. “Tell me what you think.”

Fae pops the spoon into their mouth and savors the flavor. The very sweet flavor. …Maybe too sweet. They suppress the urge to wrinkle their nose as best they can. It’s not their place to criticize.

Jupiter is watching them closely. “How is it?” she insists.

“Good,” Fae lies.

She frowns nervously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Me and Eight and Aidyn made this together. None of us are very good cooks, and we’re worse bakers. We just followed a recipe online. You have to tell me if it’s bad, I can’t figure it out on my own.” Buzzing with anxiety despite her calm expression, Jupiter clenches her fingers on the frosting bowl till her knuckles go white. “This isn’t a question where you read between the lines. I want you to answer me honestly, I won’t take offense if it’s bad. I’m really, seriously asking for your advice, Fae.”

Another thing Fae likes about Jupiter—she always says exactly what she means. After years of tip-toeing around their own home and months of combing through Heele’s vague jokes and slang for underlying instructions, it’s a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, Fae falls back into old habits. But Jupiter always reminds them to trust her.

“…Excessively sweet,” Fae admits. “The frosting, that is. I’d say it’s suitable, but only if Talent de Dal is made up entirely of people with kindergartener-level taste buds.”

Jupiter doesn’t smile, but she looks relieved. “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes out. “You’re so reliable, Fae. Thank you for telling me. I knew something was off. Maybe we need to add more citrus…”

The rest of her words fade out as Fae’s mind replays the important ones again and again. You’re so reliable, Fae. Thank you for telling me. You’re so reliable.

They hide their burning cheeks by offering to search for a lemon.

Once the two of them have adjusted the flavor to a reasonable balance, they frost the cake together. It’s nice, calming. Maybe Fae should take up baking. After they’re done, Jupiter takes a picture and dutifully sends it to the group chat between her, Eight, Aidyn, and Fae themself, then to Max. They get varied responses—a barrage of heart emojis from Eight with one bizarro accidental gorilla emoji, the critique of a well-seasoned baker from Max, luckily culminating in approval, and Aidyn doesn’t even see the message yet.

“Is there anything else you need help with?” Fae asks.

Jupiter takes a moment to think. Realization dawns subtly on her face, a widening of the eyes. “I forgot,” she says. “There’s something important I have to ask you.”

Fae’s heartbeat goes from resting to a million miles per hour in the span of two seconds.

Trying not to explode with how hot their face is getting, they clear their throat. “Go ahead.” There’s a yearning in their heart, a reflection of Aulani’s words—I think you’d fit in with them. I think they like you differently than they like everyone else—and Eight’s eyes—It’s not greedy to accept what you deserve if someone’s offering it. Ask again later—and even further back, what Aidyn said to them the night they first met and everything changed.

…Your smile is pretty cute.

I like seeing your eyes.

We can figure…everything out later.

Jupiter takes a deep breath. Fae holds theirs.

“Remember when you told me about your younger sister?” Jupiter asks. “Yesterday, we found her. We have her email. Do you want to talk to her?”

All the warmth drains out of them. Fae turns to ice and their Talent breaks three stacks of ceramic plates in half.

…They should’ve known. They got their hopes up impractically, and reality hit hard and completely unexpected. Fae has always known to prepare for the worst instead of the best, but these past two months have blunted their cynicism and lured them back into all those old, childish expectations they thought they’d grown out of.

They should’ve known. After all…

There are things you lose that you can never get back.

It’s pointless to get hung up on the pointless.

What a fool they are.

“Fae?” Jupiter is staring at them with one of her unreadable expressions. They shake themself out of their stupor and answer her.

“No. I doubt she’d be happy to hear from me.”

Jupiter falls silent and Fae walks away, leaving spiderweb-crack footprints with every step.

---

That night is the anniversary party. Jupiter, Eight, and Aidyn are busy with all the usual hosting business, so Fae stands in the corner and tries to be unnoticeable enough to keep anyone from coaxing them out with cake. Talent de Dal’s members interplay and bounce off each other like beams of light, like projections, unreal and happy. Fae finds themself reconsidering their previous line of thought—the effects of their time at TDD cannot be solely negative, not with their fellow ex-gladiators  smiling so contentedly and engaging with each other with such ease. Maybe Fae leaps too quickly to the worst possible conclusions. Or maybe cynicism should be their burden and theirs alone.

Maybe Jupiter wanted to clear the air before confessing her feelings. Or maybe it really is too early to look for romance.

…Maybe they should talk to their sister.

Later, once everyone has thoroughly enjoyed the cake and gone to bed, Tasha finds Fae in the greenhouse.

“Hey, so…” Tasha runs a nervous hand through her glowing hair. “Are you okay? You were, like, really quiet at the party tonight.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Tasha flinches at their tone and Fae tries to gentle it, as impossible as that feels, currently. “I know it’s uncomfortable for you to talk to me,” they say. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel guilty when you walk away.”

Tasha’s mouth twitches; she stares at the ground and takes a deep breath. Fae turns back to the plants and waits for her to leave.

Fae whips around, stunned at her sudden grit.

“You’re totally putting words in my mouth. Can you let me speak before assuming I’m uncomfortable and forcing myself to be here? I mean, like, now I’m uncomfortable, but that’s just ‘cause you’re being kind of rude.”

Fae blushes. Oh. That’s exactly what they were doing. How embarrassing. They duck their head and choke out, “I’m sorry.”

Tasha sighs. “And you don’t have to say sorry like I’m gonna smack you. Jeez, you always act like I’m the one scared of you, but I think it’s really the other way around.”

Still a bit flustered, Fae glances up at her. “You…aren’t afraid of me?”

“No. Why would I be?”

“Because…” they stutter out. “Because I… I hurt you. I was cold. I acted like I was b-better than you. I acted— I acted like you deserved to be in pain for trying to run away.”

Tasha cocks her head to one side. “Um, Fae…” she says softly, a wrinkle of concern in her brow. “I never really thought of it that way.”

Huh?

Fae is lost. Is there…any other way to think of it??

“You were in a bad situation and you tried to, like, teach me how you survived it,” Tasha says. “So when I didn’t want to do that, you lashed out.”

“But…no, I…” That can’t be right. Fae has to take responsibility for their actions, don’t they? Isn’t that the problem?

Tasha shrugs and combs through her hair again. “Sure, I got hurt, but I don’t think it was anyone’s fault? I mean, obviously it was Heele’s fault, and everyone who went to those horrible matches, but not you, and not me.” She looks Fae in the eyes. “You get that…right?”

Fae wraps their arms around themself. …It’s almost unthinkable. They sigh shakily, “Tai, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Tasha’s expression flickers into utter confusion. “Uh…” She laughs incredulously. “Who’s Tai?”

“I…” Fae whispers. “She’s…my little sister.”

Tasha blinks cluelessly. “Oh! I didn’t know you had a sibling. I guess our names are similar, huh?” She giggles. “Are our personalities similar? You know I’m older than you, right?”

Despite everything, Fae laughs.

…It’s a relief.

“Yeah, I guess you are,” they chuckle.

---

The next morning, before lunch, everyone gathers to see their friends off. Aulani, Matt, Zacharie, and Tasha have packed their things, and they talk excitedly—well, maybe not so excited in Zacharie’s case—about the next steps they’ll be embarking on. Spider and Fae and the rest of the ex-gladiators are there to say goodbye. Jupiter, Eight, and Aidyn are there to remind them that they’ll always have TDD’s full support. Rivergirl is just there for the transportation soul-stream. A lot of hugs are exchanged.

Then, the time comes, and Rivergirl gathers Aulani, Matt, Zacharie, and Tasha up in her arms. “Alright, my dudes,” she says, swaying them back and forth. “You’re about to experience the most radical ride of your lives. Can you dig it?”

“Sorry?” Aulani asks.

“She’s asking if we’re good to go,” Zacharie sighs.

“Can! You! Dig it?!” Rivergirl whoops.

“Yes we can!” Tasha cheers.

She’s insane, Zacharie mouths to Aulani.

As expected, their departure is bittersweet. Fae is surprised to find he’s a little sad to see his ex-cellmates go. It’s true, they were never all that close, but they lived through the same horrors together. That has to count for something.

And so, as awkward as it feels, Fae waves to his friends as they leave.

After a silent moment, the remnants of their group start to make their way back to the TDD base. Fae turns to follow them, but he doesn’t make it more than a couple steps. Aidyn calls out to him.

---

They sit in the shade of the treeline, enjoying the early fall breeze. Aidyn told Jupiter and Eight to return to the base, that he and Fae would hang back to wait for Rivergirl’s return. It’s a pleasant morning, but the air tastes like anticipation.

Fae gathers up their courage. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Right!” Aidyn scratches at the back of his head, bashfully. “So…I heard that yesterday, Jupi brought up your sister. Are you doing okay?”

Fae’s stomach sours a bit at the reminder, but they don’t feel nearly so low, this time. “I’m fine,” they answer honestly, shrugging.

“But not great?”

Fae frowns, but relents. “…No, not great.”

“You know…” Aidyn shifts in place. “You don’t have to talk to her if your relationship is strained. Or maybe you just don’t want to. There are a lot of us who’ve cut contact with our families, more than you’d think. No one would judge you.”

“Is that the case for you?” Fae asks, genuinely curious. “What about Jupiter and Eight?”

Aidyn barks out a wry laugh. “They cut contact with me!”

Misstep. This is a sore topic. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, you’re all good.” Aidyn softens instantly. “I’m… It’s easy to joke and avoid things when they make you uncomfortable. Sometimes you just think about it all so much that you need a break. But, well…” He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I guess, for someone who calls their Talent ‘Converse’, I’m not all that great at communicating.”

“I think you’re pretty great,” Fae says quietly.

The vitiligo turns Aidyn’s blush multi-colored, and it is unfairly distracting.

“…Well, Jupi doesn’t talk to her family either.” Aidyn recenters himself. “And I think Eight is still in touch with theirs, but I’m not sure. We don’t really mention this stuff when we’re around each other.”

“Maybe you should,” Fae says tentatively. Aidyn’s eyes drop to the ground; he seems doubtful.

They press on. “My sister’s name is Taisha. I’ve always called her Tai.”

Aidyn stares at them.

“She’s three years younger than me. Fifteen, right now, but she’ll be sixteen soon. I should wish her a happy birthday, because she was always so excited for this one. In movies, every girl wants a big ‘Sweet Sixteen’.”

“Yeah,” Aidyn says, like he’s nearly too focused on them to speak.

“My dad was self-absorbed and cold, so I had to raise myself and Tai. Mom died when we were young, and I’m fairly sure he didn’t like thinking about her. Tai took after her, so he generally ignored her. But I took after my dad, so we argued. We argued a lot.”

Under Aidyn’s unwavering attention, it feels like it’s okay to continue.

“Even though we fought, I think that deep down, my dad almost respected me. He felt like he was raising me right because I was stubborn and I had a temper. Like he was raising me into…” Their stomach twists. “A man. Just like himself.”

Aidyn reaches out, and Fae holds his hand. It’s nice.

“So that’s why our first big blow-up fight came around when he learned that Tai would let me try on her dresses.”

“That sucks,” Aidyn whispers. It’s ineloquent, but that’s part of the reason Fae likes him. Sometimes, the most straightforward words are the ones you need to hear.

“I was so mad,” Fae admits, “I just wanted to break something. And then, I— My Talent—”

“That’s when you got it?” Aidyn asks, eyes wide.

Fae nods, trying to ignore how red-hot their face feels. “I took down our entire house. Completely leveled. I dragged Tai outside, but our dad was left behind. I don’t know if he even made the connection; it’s possible he just thought there was an earthquake. But he was still inside when everything came down, and for a second, I wasn’t even upset. ‘Serves you right,’ I thought.”

They exhale shakily. “But Tai cried. And she went back to try and move the rubble, even though dad had never done anything kind for her in his entire life. And then…I got mad at her as well.”

“People started coming by. I realized what I was doing and I knew I had to leave. I…didn’t want to break my little sister.”

It surprises Fae, how quickly tears spring to their eyes in that moment. Usually, their emotions build and build and they teeter on the verge of crying for a long time. This feels less painful. More like letting go of the pain you never realized you were clutching so tightly. Like crying at a poignant movie scene. It’s not so bad.

They wipe their eyes without letting go of Aidyn’s hand. “I was on my own until Heele found me. You know the rest from there.”

“Hey,” Aidyn squeezes their hand. “Fae? I don’t think you’re self-absorbed. Or cold. And you might have a temper, but you’re working on it. I think you’re a really good person.”

Fae holds their breath against the instinct to deny him. “I’m trying to be a better me,” they allow. “A kinder me. A healthier me. A happier me. More like myself. So…I’m glad you think I’m succeeding.” They fail to hold back a smile. “Thanks.”

Aidyn smiles back at them, so warmly the whole world feels softer. “I should be thanking you. Maybe…we could all stand to open up more, like you said. Your advice is always the best. You’re so reliable, Fae.”

The words are familiar. Fae flusters.

“And speaking of opening up…” Aidyn’s smile turns nervous, and his face grows redder and redder. “There’s something Jupiter and Eight and I have been trying to ask you. It’s just— The timing has never been—”

“I’m listening now,” Fae says, and the butterflies in their stomach are climbing up their chest. “Try me.”

Aidyn sits up straight, takes in a deep breath. His cheeks are the same color as his hair, but he looks like he’s placed a bet and he’s liking his odds. “Fae. All three of us care about you…a lot. Would you be willing… Have you ever heard of—?”

…Of course. The timing is never right. And yet, Fae feels so light and happy that they can’t help laughing. The glow in Aidyn’s eyes, the way he’s looking at them, it feels like a winning bet. An affirmative 8-Ball answer. A homemade cake.

Fae is still growing, and it might be too early, but…

They think they’ll talk to their sister.