○ note: Hey, everyone! Ready to get into this scandal? Just before we head in, I want you to know this chapter is a bit heavier than the last one. So a bit of a content advisory/TW; this chapter deals with themes of parental deaths, car crashes, and the trauma that comes with it. Please stay safe.

Oh and quick ps. I made all the tweets myself! Painstakingly I might add. Any resemblance to a real person means that I'm better at this than I thought. I had to reverse Google image search a Kpop Idol to figure out who a fake Twitter user would stan. What have I gotten myself into. Anyway, Stan Taeyong or whatever. Let's get onto the fic!

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Chapter 2

Ralsei

Was there anything more distressing than biting into a baked good and having it taste awful? It's one thing for it to look unseemly yet actually taste amazing, but to find out that its insides were rotten?

Ralsei Prince could only imagine it was the same with people too. Finding out the horrible things beloved idols and thought-to-be wholesome icons have done, finding out who they really are? Utterly sickening. Reality altering. It was something that made you sit back and wonder about yourself and your morality.

Truly, Ralsei could only hope for his fans' sakes that they never found out about him. Because he was a mess.

Not unlike his kitchen currently. With a sag of his shoulders, Ralsei sighed as he leaned back against the flour-covered island. Then, lifting his rounded glasses from his face, he dragged a paw down it. Digging the heel of it into his eyes, not wanting to face the physical manifestations of his failures just yet.

Not the dozens upon dozens of batches of atrocious apple muffins scattered across the kitchen island behind him. And all across the counter space. And the breakfast bar. Not the clock on above the stove that would no doubt tell him that he's been at this for far too long. And for Darkness' sake, there's no way he could even glance at the family portrait that sat nestled by the teapot and landline. That last one didn't matter all that much, actually. He didn't need to glance at it for him to feel worse. The photograph was burned into his mind.

Five-year-old him sitting on his mother's lap with his father standing tall behind the both of them. Little Ralsei had been smiling a bit too wide in the way all kids do, his glasses a bit askew. A mess, but it was still cute back then for him to be one. His parents, on the other hand?

Flawless.

There wasn't a hair out of place on his father's mane and beard as he smiled a knowing, confident smile. The one that had snagged him everything he'd ever auditioned for. And even things he hadn't. Meanwhile, his mother was the picture of grace and poise. Her glasses only added to her high-class British charm, along with her pearl necklace and shrewd gaze.

Regaso and Lorité Prince.

Practically perfect in every way.

The perfect actors and entertainers. The perfect Monsters. The perfect couple. The perfect man and woman.

The perfect Mom and Dad.

Ralsei did his best to swallow down the lump in his throat.

That's all they'd ever be to him. They were dead, after all. A car crash. Ten years ago, today. Drunk driver. He doesn't know their name, and he doesn't think he ever wants to. He'd been much too young to retain frivolous details like that. Now, he's much too old to brave a google search.

What good would reliving that night over and over again, through the words of strangers, do for him?

That's why he all but turned off his phone for the day. He knew what was expected of him. To write out a longwinded eulogy in their honour and post a photo of the three of them. Showcase how much he missed them. Perform his role as Sad Little Orphan for the masses, the role he'd been shoved into since he was eight. But shouldn't it be obvious? They're his parents! Sure, he might not know them as well as everybody on the Internet seemed to. Or as well as every old-timer in Hollywood seemed to, but… Ugh. It had been a long day, okay?

Just after waking up, he'd received two calls. One surprising, a check-up ring from both his aunt and uncle at the same time. (It must've been Lancer Hand-off Day). And one not-so-surprising, from his uncle/Manager (Unclger for short). Reminding Ralsei of his busy schedule for the day before asking if he needed to contact his therapist. After assuring his Unclger that he was mentally and emotionally okay, he called Ritter. Meekly asking the gruff, silent driver to pick up a few baking ingredients for him before officially starting his day. Knowing that the idea of eating a plate of apple muffins at the end of the day would propel him through his schedule.

Positive and pleasant; that's his mantra. Stay positive and pleasant, and nobody will think twice about how you're a hairs' width from breaking down.

For the most part, he managed to keep the raging storm of grief and despondency inside at bay. Even throughout a quick interview and the many hours filming a Holiday short with his old Portalkids castmates. Clover, ever bickering and pushy, knew better than to mess around with him today. He did get close, though, just after wrapping up for the day. When a producer asked him to pick up a few lines of dialogue, they'd expressed their condolences. They'd worked with his father way back in the eighties, called him good people.

"He was a good dad, too." He'd said with a practiced smile and lightly jesting tone before heading over to the VO booth. Thankful nobody else chimed in before they started the session.

Oh, and don't worry, he's not lamenting the life he has. On the contrary, he'd always been ever so grateful for all the blessings the Dark Fountain had bestowed him. With enough wealth to live comfortably and have all the opportunities for a well-lived life that one could want. He'd never gone hungry or cold. Never unloved or abused.

Really, it's not everyone else's fault that he's feeling extra sensitive. It's his problem. It's only… by the end of the day, all he wanted to do was bake his and his parents' favourite muffin recipe. But no matter what he did, they came out wrong.

And, if it's Honesty Hour right now, he's about this close to collapsing in a sobbing heap on his kitchen floor. His big empty kitchen floor. In the big empty house that couldn't be called a home ever since that night.

God, what would his parents thin—

CRASH!

In less than a second, his whirling mind goes quiet at the rattling sounds emanating from his backyard. But then, all at once, it was silent again. Frozen in place, he waited for a few beats before setting his glasses back in place and daring to look behind him. Most of the windows to the backyard had their blinds drawn, all except one. The lone parted curtain was askew enough for him to watch a figure stagger to their feet.

Oh no. Oh, Darkness preserve him. There's an intruder. He has an intruder! Shoot, what does he do? It feels like he should know what to do.

Slowly, he reached up, grabbed a frying pan from the hanging rack, and dug out his cellphone before he crept towards his backdoor. His claw hovering over his Uncle Spade's number, the one he told him to only use in emergencies. A potential robber is an emergency, right? Uncle Spade couldn't fault him for that. Guess he could call the police. Ugh, but he never felt all that comfortable around them ever since—

Just as he eased open one side of his backdoor, a large splash sounded out, followed by flesh hitting rock. With only the thought of "Shoot, that sounded like a trip to the ER," he jolted into action. Throwing the backdoor the rest of the way open and bolting outside.

Yes, it was dumb to run towards the danger looking to help someone who could've been a murderer. But once he saw a soaked, gangly Human struggle to pull off their binder in a state of complete fear, he knew he made the right choice. His soul was telling him that they meant no ill will.

So, that's how he ended up harbouring an intoxicated Human named Kris for a couple of hours. All in all, they were pretty odd but sweet… in a weird way. The threat of disrobing was interesting. Not to mention those eyes.

Ralsei knew that Kris was trying to be intimidating, but he couldn't help but get lost in those pools of red. Like twin red giants, fiery and profound. Mesmerizing. Unfathomable. Truly.

After the day he had, their quiet, brief interactions had left him feeling quite a bit better. Even after he bade them goodbye just before sunrise, sending them on their way with his personal driver, Chevy. Well, Chevy was more of his Uncle Spade's driver that he'd given free rein over. Excuse him for the horse pun. He digressed.

There was a pep in his step as he strolled back inside and into the kitchen. A certain determination within him thanks to not only Kris' intriguing company but their culinary suggestions, as well. Shaking out his hands and cracking his knuckles, he looked at the ingredients he had left. Deciding that he'd give these muffins one more go.

Cleaning up the bowls and utensils and wiping off the counter with a resolute smile, he began his last attempt. Prepping the baking tin. Chopping up an apple into tiny pieces. Taking extra care to add Kris' suggested ingredients of butterscotch and cinnamon. Savouring all the nostalgic smells swirling around the kitchen. Memories of standing next to his father as he baked flashed in his mind. He tried to tamp down on the excitement bubbling in his chest, but he couldn't stop from bopping around his kitchen. Humming one of his mother's old lullabies as he went. Yes, yes! He was onto something.

Just as he was about to mix it all together, his pants began to ping. Oh, yes, he had switched his phone off do-not-disturb so that he'd know when Ritter arrived and never put it back. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if it were a one-off ping. But it hadn't been. Another ping rang out moments later. Then another. And another.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

When he finally pulled his phone out to investigate, he found his notifications in complete and utter disarray. Notices appeared and then got replaced so quickly he couldn't even read them. It didn't take much brainpower, though, to guess that the Twitterverse was twitterpated about him. Again. But for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what about.

His last big media appearance had been weeks ago at the Teen Choice Awards. It had been the night he'd won Choice Summer Movie Actor for his work on Sky Full of Stars. Very prestigious, he knows. But he'd thought all the fervour around that had settled. There were only so many times he could be called a short king or be praised by his GNC clothing choices. Scrunching up his nose, he finally unlocked his phone and logged onto Twitter. So, what's their problem?

It wasn't long before he got his answer. And it was…it was something else.

✨Elmira✨ Elmira_delMoral - August 21, 2022

Was anybody gonna tell me ralseiprince was into human twinks or was i supposed to find that out and have 10 yr old me be devastated? ? ? ?

Maggie (They/Them) maggie_pop15 - August 21, 2022

10 yr old me? ? I'm devastated rn man 😭😭

Eyes going wide, he slammed his phone face down onto the counter. His paws shot up to cover his mouth as he tried to comprehend what he had read.

They couldn't have been talking about him. They must've tagged him by mistake, right? Why would they even assume that of him? And why now? Why all at once?

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and dove back into the fray.

Rey of Sunshine reynardhill - August 21, 2022

where were you when you learned that ralseiprince had sex with a fucking synthwave tiktoker of all things?

📢📢STAN TAEYONG📢📢 93CeCeKelley - August 21, 2022

WHO HAD "BELOVED CHILD STAR HAS A ONE NIGHT STAND WITH A MANGY TIKTOKER ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS PARENTS'S DEATHS" ON YOUR 2022 BINGO CARD? ?! !

Ruby Jen _rubyjenkins_ - August 21, 2022

Honestly 2022 is already so fucking weird. why not? let the boy have some fun in peace. sure, that human kid looked like every bad idea manifested but hey. ralseiprince is still young. he'll recover.

God is a tsundere cal444 - August 21, 2022

How does it feel to know that ralseiprince got laid last night and you didn't

ahegao for me baby tytynewman - August 21, 2022

that shit hurted bro. like him? ? 😡😡 how did that fluffy mf get top ? imma kms rn i swear to god. i can't go on like this

God is a tsundere cal444 - August 21, 2022

Bold of you to assume he wasn't giving it

Okay! That's enough out of Twitter.

Placing his phone back on the counter, he stared off into oblivion. His mouth agape as all those tweets ran rampant in his mind.

WHAT. IS. GOING. ON.

He had WHAT with WHOM? Why would everybody suddenly start speculating and wisecracking about his sex life!? And to correlate it to his parents' deaths? Sure! He'd been acting since he could talk. He was no stranger to rumours like these. They'd been coming since he hit puberty. Pages of teen magazines filled with his "romantic entanglements" with his fellow Disney Channel kids, but this? THIS! This is crossing a-a-a line. It had to be. What set all of this off?

Braving the depths of Twitter once more, he finally found his answer after a fair amount of scrolling.

Kris Dreemurr. Kris is the, uh, mangy TikToker in question.

He hadn't known that, but he lived in Los Angeles. Everyone was a Something, whether an actor, musician, dancer or social media creator. So, it wasn't surprising to find out that they were Something too. Honestly, Ralsei should've put two and two together sooner. Henry Burkes was a Toker, too, the last time he checked. It was his party that Kris had come from. And Ralsei had heard them talking to what sounded like someone else, but he'd brushed it off as a concussed thing. So, yes, he should've known.

But what he couldn't have known was that they had a pretty decent following. Decent enough to get quite a few people to tune into their drunken late-night ramblings. Which is what all that talking to themself stuff they indulged in while he was busy drying their clothes and finding his first aid kit.

Watching it back on YouTube, it wasn't as bad as everyone said. It should've passed under the radar. If it hadn't been for the bright, shiny Teen Choice Award for 2022 standing proudly behind them. And, if you enhanced a particular shot enough, which he's sure some enterprising person did, you could make out which category was labelled.

All very incriminating.

But not as half as incriminating as their brief conversation with himself about their binder. And Kris' following joke about their inevitable walk of shame. Combined with their half-nakedness and almost smug attitude, he could see how people thought Kris was riding the high of having sex. And sex with a Disney Channel star at that.

Turning off his notifications, he slid down the side of his counter until he hit his floorboards. Burying his face in his paws, he let out a muffled shriek. His life is falling apart at the seams and all because he was trying to be a good person. A louder scream echoed throughout his house.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself with his therapist's grounding techniques.

"I'm Ralsei Prince. I'm eighteen years old. I live in Beverly Hills, California. Today is Sunday the twenty-first of August. It is seven thirty-six in the morning. I'm sitting on the floor in my kitchen. There's only me in here. I'm tired, I haven't slept since yesterday, but I can't go to sleep yet. I have a problem I need to fix."

But how?

Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?

No, no, no, go back. That one was something Ralsei could focus on. How? How does he fix this? Should he say nothing? Just let the blistering winds of Trending on Twitter hound him until they settle?

Or should he make a quick tweet dispelling all the rumours? Would people think he was lying if he made a post too soon? What if he makes one too late? Are they going to hate him for something he didn't even do?

Oh, Darkness, would Disney be upset? For Dark Fountain's sake, he did not want to deal with the Mouse and other corporate entities blacklisting him for something he didn't even do! And once Uncle Rouxls caught wind of something like that happening—wait.

You know what? He needed help. Adult help. And the closest thing to it is his Unclger, Rouxls Kaard. But, if he's honest, Uncle Rouxls is…a bit strange. Okay, the man was a lot strange. Stranger than anything, but he'd always been there for him, in his own weird, awkward way. And as his manager ever since that night, this was his problem too.

Rising to his feet, feeling a little calmer, he went back to his nigh-forgotten baking begins to mix his batter together. Letting the repetitive motions soothe him. Once he found his voice again, he took another breath and called up his uncle.

Or at least he tried to.

Yesterday morning must've been a fluke because apparently, contacting his darling Uncle is much, much harder than it sounds. Did he forget a rule about not waking up in single-digit hours on Sundays? Was there a memo he wasn't emailed? Letting out a groan as he listened to his call ring and ring before being sent to voicemail.

"Harken, simple worm. Thoust hast reachest Rouxls Kaard. Weep! For I am unable to takest thou're call. Leavest a missive with thine name and personale numbre, if thoust must. Beep."

Yes, he does talk like that. No, he isn't joking.

As far as Ralsei knows, Uncle Rouxls was quite a prominent Shakespeare actor in London's West End back in the day. That's how he and Ralsei's mother, Lorité, had met. But at some point, he had left the Stage for good and went into Law. Lorité, for some reason, kept in touch. And whenever she needed legal advising, he was who she turned to. Now, with everything you know about him, you might think he's awful at it, but… he's not. He's really not.

Don't let his peculiar speech patterns fool you.

Uncle Rouxls had graduated top of his class and could rules lawyer his way out of anything. His contracts were watertight. Priding himself on having ones with not a single loophole in sight. Unless, well, he wanted one to be there.

His skills are presumably what also endeared him to his Uncle Spade and Auntie Queen. Both were the kind of businesspeople who needed that sort of thing. But never mind them, Uncle Rouxls was another reason why Ralsei was blessed. He'd stepped in after that night and looked after him, handling all of Ralsei's affairs and work in his parents' stead. And when he was busy, he replaced himself with only the best nannies.

Really, he was a good Uncle and manager.

He'd be a better one if he picked up his gosh darn phone, though.

Thirteen times. It took calling him thirteen times before he, at last, picked up.

"Ugh, it's too damned early for this. It's only seven o'clock, dear nephew. On a Sunday. Why are you ringing down mine phone?" Uncle Rouxls' plumy, English accent, groggier than ever, came through the speakers. Finally!

"Morning Uncle Rouxls," Ralsei said, positively chirpy as he bounced on the balls of his feet. Shifting his phone underneath one of his floppy ears, he went back to mixing his batter. Getting in the rhythm as he continued on, "Apologies for waking you, but I have a little, uh, Twitter problem on my hands. Our hands, really."

A tiny giggle escaped Ralsei as he heard his uncle groan as he shifted in his bed.

"Is there such thing? A 'little' Twitter probleme?" Uncle Rouxls asked, his inner cynic coming out to say hello before being shoved back inside. It took him a moment, but his fatigued brain must've soon realized how bad a Twitter problem could be. There was a rustle of fabric before Uncle Rouxls begged. "Oh Darkness, please, mine precious nephew, please tell me that thou hast not gotten thineself cancelled."

"No! No, that's not it. I'm not getting cancelled or anything." Ralsei quickly answered back. Dropping his mixing spoon to wave his paws as if Uncle Rouxls could see him. Okay, so his Twitter problem wasn't that bad, but… How should he put this? Wringing his hands together, Ralsei went on. "It's just that, oh, you know, my reputation as a Boy Next Door may be in a teensy bit of jeopardy."

"How?"

Ralsei winced at his uncle's abnormally grave tone. "Well, it's kind of a long story."

"Nephew."

"Okay, so last night I helped someone out and even though it seemed like a good idea at first. But now Twitter is convinced that I had a one-night-stand with an—" He would not call Kris mangy or twink out loud to his uncle. He just wouldn't. "—Unsavoury TikToker." He finally said, finding an accurate, if a bit insulting, word. All Ralsei got in reply was a loud silence emanating from the other side of the call. "Uncle Rouxls?"

"Holdst on." Uncle Rouxls said. More fabric rustling sounded out before the sound of faint phone scrolling hit Ralsei's ears. Then, suddenly, Uncle Rouxls gasped. "Oh, Darkness preserve me and give me thou're strength."

Darkness, damn it all, he must've found all those tweets. "Look, I know it seems bad, but I think we might be able to—"

Uncle Rouxls interrupted. Ralsei could nearly see him clutching his invisible pearls in woe and hear him request a fainting couch. "And onst the anniversary of dearestest Lori's—Oh, mine poor nephew. You must be -eth in utter distress."

"No, no, you've got it wrong. I'm totally fine." He said, abandoning his batter altogether in favour of pacing around the kitchen.

"But how couldest you be, all by thou're lonesome all night in that big house. I knewest I should've come over yesterday, but I said to mineself—"

"Uncle Rouxls."

"—Now, Rouxls, you know that boy is hardly even a boy anymore. You need to—"

"Uncle Rouxls."

"—Give him space. Yes! Space! Imagine if thine own's parents hovered like horseflies whenever you were a trifle melancholy. And I couldn't even imagine it! How dreadful! It doesn't bear thinking about even! So, I left you. All alone—"

"Please, I'm fine."

"—Wasting away to practically nothing. And now thou're being tormented by Twitter, the horrid beast. Well, fear not, mine darling nephew, I'm on minest way."

Wait. What?

Freezing in place near the breakfast table, Ralsei grabbed the back of one of the chairs and asked, "Huh?"

"Worry not, your beloved Uncle will only be but a few moments."

"What? No!"

"Ugh, such unpretentiousness. Sometimes I amaze even me with mine child-rearing skills." Ralsei didn't need to see him to know that he'd smugly flipped his lengthy, platinum locks over his shoulder just then. "No need to suffer in silence any longer."

"I'm fine!" He begged, his claws digging into the wood of the chair. "F-I-N-E. Fine. I'm not that distraught. I just want to discuss what to do with Twitter."

"We'll discuss it when I'm there! I'm already out the door and in the eleva—"

With a tap, Ralsei ended the call.

"GAH!" He yelled out into the emptiness of his villa.

Everything's in one ear and right out the other when Uncle Rouxls got like this. Not even the end of the world would stop him now. He's on his way, whether Ralsei likes it or not. And with how reckless and fast that man drove and how close by he lived (a bit south of Holmby Hills), he'd be there in five minutes tops.

Looking down at himself, he knew he looked like quite the mess compared to his usual looks. Ingredient-covered sweatpants and a raggedy old hoodie that used to belong to his father. Even now, it was still big on him. He wondered if he would ever properly grow into it…No! Not the time. He looked awful. Which meant that if Uncle Rouxls saw him like this, he'd think the worst.

He needed to change and clean up. Now.

"Shoot, shoot, shoot." Muttering under his breath, he sprinted out of his kitchen. Running as fast as he could through his halls and foyer, up the large co staircase, and to his bedroom.

Throwing his bedroom door open and took it all in, eyes darting around all the cozy yet posh decor before diving in. Frantic, he stripped his comfort clothes off and freshened up the best he could. Searching through his closet and dresser drawers for a suitable, clean outfit. The best he could do was a long, pink gingham skirt, a flowy white shirt, and a soft lime green vest. Yanking them on with little care before rushing back downstairs to the kitchen.

Swiftly putting his batter away, dumping all his dirty dishes in the sink, and shoving all his failures in the green bin. He'd finish the muffins later. When his life was less of the jumbled mess it was right now. Thankfully, he finished in time to hear the revving of what Auntie Queen liked to call Rouxls' midlife crisis mobile. Only a few seconds left before he'd arrive.

From a rack in the foyer, he snatched a floppy straw sun hat and sunglasses, pulling them on as he slid over to the front door. Managing to make it there and pull it open before his uncle.

The morning sun bounced off his uncle's sleek, blue Mercedes roadster. Its revving reached a fever pitch as he slipped into the always empty driveway. And ever bombastic, Uncle Rouxls popped up from his convertible's seat with a dramatic shout. "Mine dearest nephew, despairest no longer. I have arrived!"

"Hush, Uncle Rouxls. Keep your voice down." Ralsei said, raising his voice only slightly, as Uncle Rouxls hurried up the winding front steps. Unable to shake the smile that spread across his face at the little open-armed pose he made once he reached the top. Shaking his head, he pulled the tall, lanky monster in his arms. Murmuring into his chest, "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

"So, theyest are the ones whomst get to sleepe in, hmm?"

"Mhmm."

"Well then," He said, letting out a haughty little huff. "Let us venture inside."

In a split second, Ralsei realized that he didn't want to entertain his uncle inside his house this morning. And not just because his kitchen was still a mess, and the couch still had a wet spot from Kris' hair. No, it just…felt wrong.

"Actually," Ralsei said, pipping up as he pulled away from their hug. A brighter, tighter smile on his snout. "I had another idea."

Uncle Rouxls arched a thin brow. "Oh."

"Yes." He said a bit too forcefully with a clap of his paws. Nervously chuckling, he leaned back through his doorway to grab his satchel from the door-side table. Slinging over his shoulder and locking the door behind him, he asked, "How does breakfast sound? You were right, I need to get out of this, uh, stuffy old house. A change of scenery and some good food might help. I was thinking about that little diner we used to go to in Oxnard. I'll pay if you drive?"

Pausing for a moment, Uncle Rouxls' long, midnight blue face was pulled down into a frown. But just like that, he broke out into a smile of his own. "Brilliant idea, nephew dearest. Juste brilliant!" Catching Ralsei by the wrist, he led him down the front steps and into his car. Backing them out of the driveway, he looked over and said with a manic grin, "Let us make haste then." Before slamming his foot on the gas and taking off down the road.

Between years of therapy and driving with Uncle Rouxls, Ralsei had mostly gotten over his fears of riding in cars. Mostly. Feeling the wind blowing through his fur helped. So did remembering that millions, if not billions, of people drove cars every day and didn't get into accidents. Just because it happened to his parents didn't mean it'd happen to him. Breathe in and out, slow and steady, and the ride would be over before he knew it.

As they barrelled down the 101 highway, Ralsei leaned over to watch the hillsides rush by. Hoping that, when putting their heads together, he and Uncle Rouxls would come up with something before everything got out of hand. He'd hate for poor, unsuspecting Kris to wake up and think that they had to deal with all this nonsense by themself.

If he had it his way, he'd have this all taken care of by the time Kris opened their mystifying ruby eyes this morning.