He stands upright on unsteady feet, and stares at the face before the Needle as if he's seeing it for the first time. As if he's waking from a bad dream. The soft candlelight glow of the Seventh Needle washes over the dusky cavern in ripples of light.

His human arm aches.

The gears in his chest groan.

He tastes something metallic on his tongue.

But the sudden bout of clarity has lifted the weight from his shoulders, because finally, he remembers.

There's someone precious worth saving.

So there's no regret when he slowly wills his brainwashed self to a halt. There's no regret when he forces his arm cannon down, points the arc of his magical sword at the blood of his kin, and whispers his own death sentence.

The Franklin Badge will protect his brother.

The resulting flash blinds his eyes before his own magic rebounds, turning against its master. Through the pain of searing himself alive, he falls with a smile on his lips.

Because as a broken jagged cry hits his ears, as his burned body is frantically turned over by dirt-caked hands, as he meets a familiar pair of betrayed blue eyes through the haze, all he can think of is how much he loves his younger twin brother, and that he would die a thousand times over just for him.

.

.

.

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

Dancing around the Issue

.

.

.

Okay, I'll say it.

I have a shitty memory.

Or rather, I suck at remembering what I don't deem important. So really, it's normal for me to forget most of my dreams, and it's normal for me to get nightmares that I won't remember the next day.

Because really, who does?

So when I traipse down the stairs, Tracy notes the dark bags under my eyes with a grin. "Nightmare?" my little sister asks sweetly.

"Yeah, if that's what you call your face," I yawn.

A minute or two of sassing later and my mom admonishing me for calling my sister something less than cute, Tracy sticks out her tongue again and flounces up to her room.

But for some stupid reason, out of some inexplicable urge, I just have to scramble for my phone and call the face at the top of my mind.

Predictably, he's pretty disgruntled. "Ness, it's barely seven in the-"

"You know that I love you, right?"

When Lucas pauses, no doubt bewildered by what could've possibly caused this impromptu call, I clamp my mouth shut from mortification. "...Is everything all right?" Lucas starts off cautiously.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to come over now?"

"Nah, just-" I take off my hat, suddenly feeling hot. "Just had to say it." Then I bury my face into my hat, because the embarrassment of my actions has just crashed down onto my head. 'I love you'? Seriously, again? If Lucas snarks me back, I'd have totally deserved it.

But to my surprise (and relief), it seems like snarky!Lucas has decided it's too early to rise and shine.

"I know, Ness," he says gently. I hear more background noise in his end, and deduce that he's rolling back into bed. "I'll see you at ten. Do you wanna talk then?"

Oh, right. We're meeting Lucas's dad and stuff. My throat goes dry. "Sure, sure. That works."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

There's another pause. "Um... Ness. Just so you know, I do actually-" Then Lucas awkwardly coughs into the receiver. "Nevermind. See you at ten."

As if my forgotten nightmare was an omen of terrible things to come, the start of my fucking day quickly goes from bad to worse.

FuckThePopo❤ 8:07AM
Yo Ness
Nessieeee
when u cummin bak

Nuss 8:10AM
Jan 10
Why
Is Master Hand asking around? I turned in my LOA befo the holidays

FuckThePopo❤ 8:10PM
Nah man
Pitto and Lucina brok up

FuckThePopo❤ 8:12PM
Pittoo was looking 4 u
Thot youd liek to kno
anywys
did you read the latest edition of LEMME SMASH?

Nuss 8:12PM
Dude I dont read gossip magazines

FuckThePopo❤ 8:12PM
course u dnot
you and Lucas dropped from the shipping ranks
from1 to 9
tldr; an old ship is back, some people hopped off ur ship, fandom thinks ur friends

This, of course, demands a long explanation from its source.

"People aren't shipping us anymore?" I sputter.

"It was featured on the front page of the gossip column. Or rather, your ship wasn't mentioned at all. IkeXMarth is back up at number one, so people are busy drooling over that again. Poor Ike. He can't escape the mansion for fried chicken for a long time." With his wide rep as the office gossip, Popo's pause here feels intentional. Like he's about to study my reaction over the phone. "Hey, that's a good thing, right? No more excuses and all. You two don't have to pretend anymore."

My stomach drops. "...I guess so."

"By the way bro, Ike's begging you to buy him a box of Popeyes. The fifty chicken combo with a side of mashed potatoes and fries? He says that he'll pay double. Just passing the word along."

This, unfortunately, does not mark the end of my morning shitshow.

Remember when I told you that I was stuck in a predicament? A horrible predicament called feelings and other squeamish stuff?

No?

Well, I'll reiterate. Basically, whenever shit hits the fan, it tends to hit the fan all at once.

So of course, when I finally dig into my daily slush of cereal and milk, my phone goes off again.

This time, it's a business call.

I choke on my breakfast. "Winter Formal?"

"Ness, the Twelve dance on Valentines Day every year. Your attendance has been - and is - mandatory," Peach says patiently. When I manage to swallow down my cereal, I can almost see her frowning in disappointment at the other end of the line. "Generally, the official SMASH couples take the dance floor first before the rest of the Twelve follow, but in your case, Master Hand wants to talk to you in private about your arrangement-"

"Now hold on," I say weakly. "Me and dancing is like, a bloody tripping hazard. Can't I skip the formalities this year?"

"You, the youngest of the Twelve, skip one of the most important diplomatic events of the year? Oh my, heavens no," Peach says, almost sounding horrified by even the mere idea. "Ness, Winter Formal is more than just any dance. It celebrates the unity of the tournament between different dimensions. Winter Formal on Valentines day is a long-standing tradition since Mario's initiation into the tournament, where each Smash couple shows off their affection for each other as a sign of undying trust across cultural borders-"

"More like a day where chocolate corporations try to milk all the cash out of their consumers," I mutter.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Winter. Blasted. Formal.

I'd forgotten all about it.

And now I want to rip my hair out, because I really do want to forget about it.

Because the dance itself was a ridicule. Every year, I'd either asked Paula or the Villager missus to dance with me, and - hopefully sparing their feet from being stepped on by my clumsy self - after the opening dance, we'd escape the ballroom to hang out with the other SMASH kids, cracking up and poking fun of the dance all night long. Because. Winter Formal was practically a children's game where we made fun of any grownups making out, and made faces at anyone who kissed, and ate as much free food as our waists allowed us because fuck the paparazzi and fuck pretending to do politics like a stuffy uptight 18th century git in a dress suit.

But this year is different, because well... as you can see, I'm actually dating someone.

A someone who hasn't come out of the closet.

A someone who might not come out of the closet.

Add everything else on top of that, and the stress is so real. I get a bad flashback of all the glittery sickly-sweet heart streamers, of all the pink "romantic" decor hanging off the ceilings, of Mario and Peach slobbering over each other's faces, and I clap my hand over my mouth to resist barfing because nope. Just block it out, Ness. Just block it out.

Thankfully, I have someone whom I can relate to.

"Let's skip the fucking formal," Samus suggests for what sounds like the tenth time over the phone.

"We can't. Peach would whack us on the head with her frying pan-"

"Ness, I'll set myself on fire first before I wear a dress with fucking frills. I'm a bounty hunter, not a goddamn fairy princess," Samus says flatly, her voice dripping with disgust. "Listen, I love Peach, but she and Mario are gonna be super sappy and ugh, don't get me started on Link and Zelda-"

"I bet Lucas would rather toss himself to the sharks before I drag him to a dance, and I don't blame him," I say miserably.

"That is, if he doesn't kill you first for trying."

I wince. "Trying not to think about it. Who're you gonna ask out?"

"Myself. I'm going Ace," Samus snarks, and I accidentally snort on my milk.

"If you invited Mayo and Rosalina to go along for the ride, I bet they'd make the night a whole lot bearable-"

"I'm not allowed to pair with either of them for the opening dance."

"Why?"

"Because ballroom dancing."

"No, I'm being serious," I laugh, because she's totally smirking. "I didn't know there were actual fucking rules for the opening dance-"

"There are. And believe me, I know because I've tried about every loophole in the book. According to Peach, traditional ballroom dance rules dictate that we can only dance with the opposite gender. That's why I've danced with Captain Falcon for the last five years, Ness. He's three inches shorter than me, but there's only a handful of people I can choose from, because being "too tall" to dance with heels is apparently a legit ballroom dancing problem."

A horrible thought resurfaces in my mind. "Master Hand wants to talk to me after winter break. You... You don't think he's gonna..."

"He'd better not," Samus stubbornly says, but she can definitely hear the dread rising up my throat. "For fuck's sake, Ness, Master Hand can't force you to dance with someone else just to keep up appearances-"

"Great. Just bloody brilliant," I mutter bitterly. "I'd rather not dance at all, thanks."

Samus heaves a heavy sigh. "That's two of us, pal. That's two of us."

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

So around nine-thirty in the morning, I'm dressed in my Sunday best, and wading through a sea of flowers like a clueless chicken trying to navigate the Seven Seas. Because fuck if I know my plants, and fuck if I know where the rest of today's gonna be headed.

Taking pity on my lost state, the hippy flowershop owner - who thankfully doesn't recognize me as a fucking celebrity - drags me out of the aisle, asking me what I'm looking for, but I have no idea what Lucas's dad might like. Or if Lucas's dad even likes flowers. He strikes me more of a guy who's too busy Olympic weightlifting to stop and smell the flowers anyway. I consider calling Lucas again, but decide against it, because I've already bothered the hell out of him this morning. Besides, this gift is supposed to be a surprise, albeit a hopefully good one at that.

"I'd go for the mixed arrangement. Sunflowers are like, soo outdated these days," the flower store owner says dreamily, her eyes glazed. I wonder if she's high.

So I buy a bouquet of sunflowers instead.

I know, I'm a rebel.

But I bet you would've done the same.

Why? Well, because the sunflowers look super fresh and stuff. They look way better than the mixed assortment - and okay, they're not pink, which is a hella big YES in my book. Because forgive me, but I'm not gonna give my potential father-in-law pink flowers. Sorry, just not gonna happen. The point of this meeting is to formally introduce myself to Lucas's dad, not to rub my gay into his face.

But I do call Lucas. Just to let him know about the last-minute hitch in his plan.

"Did you get my text about-" I start, breathless, before Lucas interrupts me.

"Popo texted me too."

"Do you think you can-"

"In public today? I'm not ready-"

"-and that's totally okay, like I said yesterday," I interrupt, glancing at the sidewalk. "Don't rush. Take your time. Like I said, we can take little steps. You know... you know I'll back whatever you do, right?"

"...yeah."

I wait for him say more, but when my crosswalk turns green, I realize that there's really nothing left to say. The tone of finality is clear in Lucas's voice. A mutual understanding ripples through our empathy link. Lucas knows. He can stay closeted from the outside world for as long as he wants. He's got that right. But between the two of us, we've got no more room for excuses, no more room for cover-ups, no more room for pretending. It is what it is.

We know what we want.

There's no turning back now.

So when I turn off my cell, this makes me wonder what Lucas has been thinking about our relationship lately. Or at least, about what we are now.

It's barely been a month since we started "dating."

And while I'm all for it, I'm now starting to worry that we're going too fast.

I bite down on my lip. While Lucas is pretty well-acquainted with my mom, I know little about his side of the family. I know next to nothing about his dad, much less am I ready to tell him about the true nature of our relationship. Bluntly put, Lucas's dad is a stranger for all I know.

But Lucas seemed pretty confident about telling his dad about me.

And I trust Lucas.

So as promised, I meet Lucas in the empty baseball field. Already waiting for me, he's dolled himself up a nice black overcoat, his Slytherin-esque scarf pooling around the bleachers. Suddenly a horrible thought strikes me because Oh fuck, did I go overkill? and yes, I definitely overdressed. But when the wind blows through the flaps of his coat, I notice that Lucas is wearing a suit and matching dress shoes.

Instantly, I feel relieved.

But when Lucas sees me hurrying over with my bouquet of sunflowers, a strange look enters his eyes.

Nervous, I stop my stride and wave my arms. "Tada! I... I thought I should buy some nice flowers for your dad, but I dunno if he's allergic. The hippy girl at the counter told me that sunflowers stood for longevity and good luck and stuff, but I thought it'd be weird I bought roses for your dad, because you know, it's not like I'm trying to ask him out-" When Lucas continues staring at me, I feel my own face heat up from mortification. "...uh, was that too weird? I can go return them on the way back-"

"No, these are... I love sunflowers," Lucas mumbles, his cheeks flushed red from cold, and I feel my own face turn warm because thank fuck, his reassurance doesn't make me feel gay for buying a bunch of flowers for his dad like a pansy. Breathing in the scent of the sunflowers, Lucas breaks into a faint smile. "They smell nice," he murmurs, a little embarrassed and pleased, and it makes me smile like an idiot because I've taken him aback, albeit in a good way.

Following him out of the bleachers, I glance around the baseball field, but it seems devoid of anyone else. "Are we going to your place?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Then I guess your dad's waiting outside-"

Again, Lucas shakes his head.

Understandably, this baffles me. "Then where the bloody hell is your dad?"

At this, Lucas pauses, his eyes sliding over to mine. "I never said that we're meeting my dad."

"Then what-"

"I want you to meet my mom."

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

There's really only one word to describe the Buddhist Temple.

Magical.

The front gate has the gaping maw of a dragon carved into its center, its cracked paint peeling and fading from centuries of toil. Trying not to trip over any loose pebbles like a dumbass, I follow Lucas under the curved arch and into the greenery beyond.

It almost feels like stepping into a scene from a fairytale story.

Like walking back a thousand years in time.

Thankfully, Lucas seems to have this place memorized by the back of hand. Bare oak trees wrap around the side of the crumbling cobbled stone path. Snow hasn't fallen in this part of Onett, so here the grassy hills are green, sprinkled with an odd yellow blossom or two. There's something oddly relaxing about this place, I note, watching a sparkling butterfly flutter past with the sound of windchimes.

It almost makes you forget that there's a graveyard next door.

Suddenly, the flowers in my hands and our formal attire take on a whole different meaning in this place.

At a winding turn in-between two hills, Lucas hesitates. His eyes flicker back to mine uncertainly as if he's second-guessing himself. As if he's suddenly realized how weird this request maybe might've sounded out loud. But I latch onto his hand and give it an encouraging squeeze because this isn't weird at all, because I know that he's trusting me with one of his most guarded secrets.

We continue on.

The wooden signpost catches our attention first. Looped around it with string, a shimmering scroll with dark painted characters flutters in the breeze.

Then the temple looms over our heads like a second sky, its roof studded with crimson and gold tiles. Each of its doorless entrances, flanked by pillars as wide as the ancient oaks we passed, are so tall that one of them could fit probably five Bowsers stacked together and have room for Ganondorf.

Inside the temple, a shallow stone ledge surrounds the giant golden statue. The plump, smiling face of Buddha gazes upon us, his sacred features crinkled and old and wise.

Once I stop gawking at Buddha and hurry inside, Lucas is already up and about. From the stone ledge, Lucas plucks out three super thin, dry-looking BBQ skewers from a container before he lights each of their tips on fire. Then I catch a whiff of a calming scent, and realize that no, those aren't ordinary barbeque skewers - they're sticks of incense.

"My mom's grave is outside," Lucas says softly, and I jump when his voice slices through the silence like a butter knife. Lucas doesn't notice, poking the three incense candles into a ceremonious incense burner before placing the small pot back onto the stone ledge. When a flurry of motion catches the corner of my eye, I notice that another family is here on the other side of Smiling Statue Buddha. They're respectfully kneeling in front of a portrait of the recently deceased (I'm guessing) and taking turns participating in what looks like some traditional funeral rite. I wonder if Lucas will follow their example, but instead, after lighting the scented candles, Lucas tugs on my hand, leading me outside. When the sudden sunlight pokes into my eyes, I squint into the cloudless sky and wait for my vision to settle.

Then I see it.

Behind the Temple, rows of gravestones dot the grass, peacefully spiraling around the winding hills.

Quietly again, Lucas takes the lead.

I follow.

I don't know how long we've walked through the swaying grass. But when Lucas finally stops at one, without looking, I know whose it is. The words inscribed on the old, faded headstone are still legible.

Gently crouching down, Lucas brushes the dust off the gravestone. "Hi, mom. I brought a friend today."

Oh damn.

Shit.

This brings a lump to my throat.

"Uh, hi," I choke. I thought I was ready... or as ready as I was gonna be. I had this entire fucking speech prepared for Lucas's dad. I had this entire schedule of stuff to do and stuff not to do, things that I shouldn't say and things I should say, but nothing's prepared me for this.

Suddenly, it just hits me out of the blue: I have no idea what to say to Lucas's dead mom.

And as stupid as it sounds, standing before her grave, I can feel her judging me for having nothing to say.

I feel underdressed.

Underprepared.

"I brought flowers," I mumble, hastily setting the bright bouquet in front of the gravestone and willing myself not to well up because this is Lucas's dead mom holy fucking shit, and Lucas's eyes don't even look a bit wet. "Sorry, I didn't bring anything nicer."

"She likes sunflowers," Lucas affirms, but I'm not sure if he's just saying this to make me feel better. Instead, he tugs out something from his pocket and unfolds it. "That's my mom," he says, watching me apprehensively as if to gauge my reaction before showing me her photo, and I can't help but catch the slight crack in his voice.

Though I saw the same picture of his mom on his mantelpiece before, I'm having a hard time trying to swallow down that lump in my throat. "She sounds like a kind person," I manage, because she really does.

Evidently, it's the right thing to say.

Lucas relaxes. "We never found her body," he says softly, re-folding the photograph and tucking it gingerly back into his pocket. "She died in a car accident a couple years ago. I remember that the truck that hit her was green." A pause. "If she were alive, I'm sure she would've liked you," he adds quietly, and fuck, this is tearing my heart apart.

My eyes rest on the bouquet of flowers. For some damn reason, one of the sunflowers looks irregularly cut; its stem is so short that it's practically nonexistent. Without thinking, I pick the flawed sunflower out. Its vibrant petals rest against my palm before I close my hands around it and tuck it back into my jacket, because the least I could do is give Lucas's mom a perfect bouquet of perfect flowers.

We keep Lucas's mom company for a little longer.

When the sun pales into late afternoon, slowly, I tug on Lucas's hand. Wordlessly, without much resistance, he lets me lead him through the temple and back onto the hilly stone path.

Before I know it, we're sitting under the canopy of the local ice cream parlor and hanging out like normal.

But Lucas visibly looks a lot happier after the trip, and when I sit across from him, I can't help but wonder how long he's waited to do this. I wonder how many times he's thought about introducing me to his mom, how many times he worried himself to sleep over the thought of sharing a hidden part of himself to someone else, how many times he felt afraid of this trip turning into a source of public ridicule. In a weird way, I feel like I've just passed a test of trust without knowing that there was one.

And it's a pretty awesome feeling.

"Thanks for introducing me to your mom," I murmur, and Lucas stuns me by reaching for my hand and squeezing it back in return. Out in public. Where anyone can see us. Holy fucking shit. The action is subtle, but definitely purposeful. Suddenly, I'm starting to see more of the Lucas beneath his snarky shell. His shoulders seem way more relaxed. He's giving into more of those secret smiles when I talk, and his features look a shade softer.

I wonder if he's even aware that he's holding my hand.

Realizing a weight in my pocket, I carefully unpocket the sunflower and roll it back over my hands. Its soft petals splay over my palms. Instinctively, overcome by nostalgia, I nudge Lucas in the arm to grab his attention before poking the sunflower into his hair - just like I've done for Tracy a thousand times. With a pleased hum, Lucas lets me tuck the short stem behind his ear.

I pull back with a grin, satisfied by my work. "Now I'll LEAF you alone."

"Your puns STEM from a severe lack of humor," he quips off the bat.

"Well then I might as well go all the way. PETAL to the medal."

Then Lucas runs his fingers through his hair, sliding the sunflower off, and I protest when I realize what he's planning to do.

"Flowers look horrible on me," I say miserably.

Lucas frowns. "Sunflowers are badass," he says stubbornly instead. His cool fingers brush against my cheek when he weaves the sunflower into a loose thread on the bill of my hat, and I can't help but break into a smile of my own.

"Do I look more badass now?" I chirp, batting my eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion, and Lucas rolls his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know, Ness. You're implying that you were badass to begin with."

"Why you, c'mere-" I furiously reach for his head. Lucas ducks out of the way, pushing his chair aside when I clamor after him for bruising my dignity. Just as I round the corner of the street though, I catch up, bumping straight into Lucas's back because he's skidded to a halt. With a triumphant laugh, I grab him down by the hand. "Ha, gotcha-"

Then around his back, I catch sight of what Lucas is staring at.

My blood goes cold.

It's Flint.

From across the other side of the crosswalk, under the brim of his wide hat, Lucas's dad stares at us. He must be on his way to the temple, because he's clutching a sunflower of his own. But none of this really registers, because I notice Flint's eyes flitting from the sunflower in my hat down to our held hands. Very quickly, I let go.

Oh.

Fuck.

Lucas has frozen into a still statue. For a couple of seconds, father and son stare each other down. There's this hard, impassive look in Flint's eyes that ties my stomach into knots and makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

Then whirling around, Lucas grabs my hand and drags me along in the opposite direction.

This was not how I wanted to meet Lucas's dad.

"Lucas, wait-" I try, but when he doesn't listen, I take hold of his wrist and dig my feet into the ground. "Hey, stop, you're hurting me."

As if finally realizing my words, Lucas abruptly lets go. But his knuckles have turned white, and his face impossibly paler.

"I need to go home. I'll talk to you later," he says hoarsely.

"Lucas, I can tell him that we're just friends-"

"Later, Ness."

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

Nuss 5:30PM, Jan 2
Lucas? is everything ok
if ur dad wants an explaination i can go and tell him it was a misunderstanding

Nuss 8:14PM, Jan 2
LYou kno u can always crash at my place anytie
my sis ter loves u
an my mom wouldnt mind

Nuss 6:10AM, Jan 6
im sorry

Lookas 12:01AM, Jan 7
Ness, stop texting me. I can't talk to you right now
I'll see you at work

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

I haven't talked to Lucas since.

From time to time, my empathy link faintly flares up, but Lucas closes up whenever I try to prod. And while I'm worried sick, I know that stepping in now would only make things worse on Lucas's end. The bottom line is pretty clear.

Lucas is in trouble with his dad.

Tossing and turning in my sheets, I find myself fiddling with the withered sunflower on my cap. As if it could offer reassurance. As if it could turn back time. As if it could erase the past week from my brain because holy shit did I screw up big time.

Sleep, I tell myself.

I can't.

Go to sleep.

I would if I could.

This is my train of thought until 11:30 pm turns into 2 am. Thinking isn't getting me anywhere. Not when it's a constant feedback loop of WHAT SHOULD I DO I DUNNO WHAT TO DO → But Jeff Might → IS NOW THE RIGHT TIME TO PANIC → I HONESTLY DUNNO WHAT TO DO → But Jeff Might.

Then I decide that enough is enough. I jump out of bed and swipe my laptop off the bedstand.

...After checking the time on the other side.

And after lowering my voice to a hush because Tracy's sleeping, and I have no desire to be grounded by my mom for calling someone so late at night.

Thank god, the Whoosh call goes through. Relieved when the video screen lights up, I start off the convo with a classic "Jeef."

"Hey, Ness. Tony got your text last month. You made him really happy about your movie date."

"I did?" To prove his point, an exasperated Jeff lifts his laptop into the air with a free hand, and then I hear an ecstatic yell filter through the receiver. I can't help but give into a small grin at that. "Just kidding. I stand corrected."

"Sounds like everything worked out for you in the end," Jeff agrees absentmindedly, rummaging for something out of sight, and I wonder if he's working on some other ghastly contraption. Something squeaks as if Jeff is screwing off a rusty nail off-screen. "Ness, it's kinda, uh, late on your side. Are you well?"

"Not really, no," I admit, flopping back onto my bed. Of their own restless accord, my fingers play with the brim of my cap. "I want advice."

"Sure, I can pass my laptop to Tony-"

"Actually... I want your advice."

"On?"

"How to treat a closeted person."

The sound of construction stops. Jeff slowly sidles back into view. "Any specifics?" he says cautiously, and frustrated over what to say, I run my fingers through my hair in agitation.

"Just... anything, I guess. What to expect and stuff. It's not like... well, dating him is gonna be a bit different, and you know that better than anyone."

Stuff squeaks on the other line. Yeaaaah, Jeff is back to working on his project again. "It's going to be an uphill battle, Ness. There's gonna be a lot of times Lucas's closet is gonna test your patience, but well, you did sign up for it-"

"I'll wait for as long as it takes-"

"It might take a long time, Ness-"

"-but his dad walked into us holding hands a couple days ago."

An angry NANI erupts from... whatever furry Netflix anime Tony is watching avidly in the living room.

Jeff breathes out. "Uh-oh."

"Yeah."

"How is Lucas holding up?"

"I don't know. I mean, I told him he could crash at my place if he had to, but he hasn't showed up since..."

"You did the right thing. You offered him help and support - now stand back and let him decide if he needs it," Jeff says firmly, but uncertain, my stomach roils unpleasantly at the thought.

"He just told me that he'll see me at work, Jeff. He hasn't texted me anything else. I want to check on him before I leave, but I don't wanna drive a wedge between him and his dad and make things worse."

From the Whoosh screen in his bedroom, Jeff stops screwing on a nail onto his deconstructed wardrobe and places his tools aside. "I don't pretend to know Lucas half as well as you do, and - don't take this the wrong way, Ness - I'm really happy that you two figured out your feelings for each other. But blood runs pretty thick. If his dad pressures him too hard, Lucas might end up hiding deeper into the closet."

"Lucas wouldn't make promises that he couldn't uphold," I protest.

"Ness, I'm not saying that your judgement is wrong. But it's easy to get tunnel vision when you like someone, and I want to make sure that you don't end up liking someone who might choose someone else's needs over yours. Your needs are also important for the relationship to work out. Like I told Paula last time we met-"

"Paula? What does she have to do with this?"

"You two tend to be more rash and emotionally inclined with your decision-making-"

"Am not!" At this, Jeff snorts, and I give a sheepish grin. "Okay, so maybe I am. But you still haven't answered my question-"

"Again, not in my place to tell." Seeing that I am very maturely sticking out my tongue at the response, Jeff spares me a sad smile and eases on the edge. "Ness, I just want you to remember that as much as you like Lucas, you also deserve someone who cares for you as much as you care for them," he says gently. "Take it from someone who used to be closeted. It shames me to admit the truth, but when Tony and I started dating... I didn't treat him right. I had other priorities over our relationship. We never talked things through, and things... fell apart. We broke up, because Tony put more of himself into the relationship than I did. I just don't want you to get hurt in the same way. I don't want you to bite off more than you can chew, and I don't want you to end up resenting Lucas for circumstances out of his control."

My vision turns watery. I knew it. Someone's cutting the damn onions in my room again.

"DID YOU JUST HURT NESS'S FEELINGS?" another voice cries out before the appalled person himself shows up on screen to give Jeff a scowl. "Bad Jeff. Very bad-"

"Tony, I'm only telling it as I see it. You previously expressed your concerns that the relationship might be too one-sided-"

"But that was then, now is now. It sounds like Lucas is willing to communicate what he wants, so cut Ness some slack. Geez Jeff, you could've been a little better with the delivery. You were rather blunt-"

"Was I really?"

Tony's disapproval lightens up. "Just a tad."

Oh god no, now Jeff sounds worried. He cranes his neck over to the screen. "Did my words upset you? That wasn't my intention, Ness-"

"I know, I know," I mumble, blinking the stinging sensation away. When Jeff looks guilty, I manage a smile and hastily rub at my eyes with my sleeves. "I don't want to expect anything, I really don't, but it's hard not to hope when things had been going so well-"

"Then you have little to worry about," Jeff says softly. "Look, I'm not trying to frighten you off. I only told you this because you're my friend. That means I want you to know what to expect if things happen to head south, because I want you to be prepared. Ness, I just... all I'm trying to say is... be careful about falling in love with a closeted boy. His closet might end up being more important than you."

Author's Note:

wen da author kno someting da reader dun know

┐(￣u￣)┌