"I ruined it." Gray's voice was muffled against Cliff's shirt. "Something in my life finally goes right, and I gotta screw it up."
Before Cliff could get a word in edgewise, his friend had pressed his face against his chest and Cliff could feel the vibrations of his crying as Gray's hug tightened. "I'm no good! I never will be any good! I was a damn idiot for thinking I could be anything but that!"
It was one thing to see Gray berate himself for his mistakes at work, but Cliff had a feeling that this had nothing to do with Saibara.
Gray didn't realize he was sobbing at full volume, but his friend wrapped his arms around him, letting him cry it out a bit.
It felt much like the purging of poison – the tight ball of anger, frustration, and anxiety in his sternum ached. Gray lost all sense of where he was, and as he swayed, he felt a heavy veil begin to lift. He blinked and looked up at Cliff, who was holding him, eyes closed.
Look how he's pitying you, like you're still a kid. You're overreacting.
"I-It's nothing," Gray choked. He hated how he couldn't stop sobbing, and he hated even more how he pushed Cliff away. His friend complied, but Gray could see the hurt in his eyes.
It's just the whiskey and wine...
His mind turned to the reasons why he had decided to drown himself in alcohol. He shook the thoughts from his head before they could properly form.
"I'm just being stupid..."
Understatement of the year.
Cliff's response was gentle. "Here, let's get comfortable." A caring arm was placed around Gray's shoulders as his roommate led him to his own bed, pulling back the covers. "You wanna sit or lie down?"
Karen and Cliff's quiet concern had thrown him off of his balance. His cheeks burned with shame and he wasn't sure what embarrassed him more – his drunkenness or his outburst.
I'm not fooling anyone... not even myself anymore.
Gray clumsily kicked off his boots and stumbled into bed. The pillow smelled of rosemary and Cliff. He felt himself relax. Cliff's sleeping fur had been draped over the bed, and he stroked it, focusing on the texture. He slowly regained himself and rested on his side, tugging on Cliff's sleeve and patting the empty spot beside him with pleading eyes, frustrated at how desperate he must've looked.
Cliff looked down at him in surprise; this kind of closeness was never requested by Gray. Cliff slid into bed beside his friend and faced him. Gray tossed the blankets over both of them and buried his face against Cliff's chest, his fight leaving him as he realized how exhausted he was. His sobs returned, but it wasn't long before they became silent and weak.
Afraid to startle him, Cliff's hand hesitated before it rested on his friend's head, stroking his rust-colored hair. The sobbing ceased almost immediately and Cliff felt himself being pulled closer. He was well aware that Gray struggled expressing what he wanted through words, and knew he might have to wait a while.
Gray closed his eyes, resting against his friend and listening to his heartbeat. Cliff's body wasn't soft like Mary's.
Cliff looked down at the tousled head of hair pressed against him. Is this how Flint had felt, holding him?
Cliff's eyes stung with bitter tears; he removed his falconer's gauntlet and struggled to brush them away before his father saw, but it was too late.
"I-I'm sorry, Papa..."
Flint shook his head, attaching the tethers to their birds' posts. "I'm not sure why you're apologizing."
The boy bit his lip. "I missed you while you were gone. I know it's stupid..."
"Hey." His father interrupted him. "It's not stupid. I love you, too, Cliff."
The tears were flowing freely now. "It's not fair! Why can't they make an exception and let me join y'all on the next hunt?"
"Your time will come, son. For now, focus on your studies." A playful ruffle was given to his hair.
Cliff was undeterred. "You know that I taught half of them how to fly those hawks! They can go, but I can't?! It's not fair!" he wept bitterly.
His father hugged him to his chest. "I know it's not fair. I know you're a better falconer – you have a natural gift. But you need to work on your math, and your reading..."
Cliff pouted. What good would those ever be for him?
"I'm going to make a promise to you." Flint's voice was gentle. "We're going to find you a peregrine, just like you've always wanted. I think you're ready for one, and you more than deserve it, what with all the instructing you've been doing. We'll find you an egg and we can train it, so by the time you're thirteen, you'll be leading the falconers and your bird will be in tip-top shape."
Cliff listened to the steady beating of his father's heart.
"You're a good boy, Cliff. You just have to be a little more patient, okay?"
Gray's quiet sniffing brought him back to reality.
"Papa... he used to hold me like this." Cliff's words were soft.
The bed was soft and cozy; the fire had left Gray and he relaxed against his friend. He didn't recall seeing a father in the photograph that Cliff had carried around with him. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the academy emblem screen printed onto Cliff's borrowed sweatshirt. "How were things with you and your Dad?" he asked cautiously, his mind still focused on Mary's unwavering obedience to her mother.
"I wanted to be just like him," Cliff replied. "He was so outgoing and fun but still very loving and responsible... I tried, but... we were very different. I can never be as great as he was..."
Gray let out a small sigh. "Just like him, huh?"
He could feel the nod above him. "Papa trained me in falconry." He let out a soft chuckle. "It's kind of hard to remember feeling so confident in something. He was... so proud. We had plans... When I turned thirteen, I was finally going to be able to join the hunters." He felt a lump form in his throat. "We hatched Cain together. I was supposed to be by his side. He died in a hunting accident when I was twelve. Mauled by a bear." He rested his chin on the top of Gray's head and waited for the stabbing pain and tears to come. Instead, he felt a strange mellow pensiveness.
"I'm sorry. Mine's as good as dead to me."
Cliff hugged him more tightly. They laid together in silence for a few minutes while Gray gathered his thoughts.
"You're good with Cain. You deserved to have that with your dad. Sucks when things don't turn out the way they're planned." Gray muttered. He pulled his face away from his friend. "Betcha were the resident badass of your hometown."
He was given a heavy sigh. On top of the awkwardness of his role in Akiyama, a teenage Cliff had taken Elder Zinnia's conflict resolution lessons to heart, and breaking up fights among his peers didn't help with his popularity. "Hardly. You?"
Gray let out a scoff. "I was a loser. Dad was an engineer. Naturally, he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, so I started on advanced classes at school. Mom got sick..."
He could feel Cliff's breath hitch at this last sentence and he felt his own throat close up.
"It was my junior year of high school. I think I spent more time in the hospital visiting Mom than I did in the classroom. Dad... he'd just sit there... like an empty husk or something."
The glare of the fluorescent lights shone on his father's glasses, his expression unreadable. Gray focused his attention back on his mother, his homework long since set in the unoccupied chair beside him.
He had heard the same story countless times as a child, and his mother's voice was tender as she flipped the worn pages, reading aloud.
"'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.'"
The shifting in the chair beside him snapped Gray back into reality of the hospital room, but as she continued, he quickly settled back in. He loved the way his mother still used higher- and lower-pitched voices for the characters. He pushed his chair closer to the hospital bed and leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the edge of the bed and resting his chin atop of them.
Slim, pale fingers ran through his locks. "You still get the same kick out of this that you did when you were just a boy, don't you?"
He unabashedly nodded, relishing in her soft touch, which was more precious than ever to him. "I never stopped loving it."
She gave him a doting smile, turning the page. She patted his arm with one hand and held the book in the other.
He was reminded of cold rainy afternoons while she sat by his side, applying a hot water bottle to his bad knee and offering him a warm beverage, fluffy blankets, and a story.
It was this one, The Velveteen Rabbit, on most occasions. He'd watch out the window in his early school days, spying for wild rabbits.
His mother's voice had lulled him into a pleasant daze. It was warm and wispy, reminding him of dandelion puffs on a bright summer afternoon.
The voice had grown airier as of late, but the familiar words brought them both a sense of peace. Right now, they were mother and son, enjoying a story, forgetting about the outside world...
"He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden–how happy they were–and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him."
The screeching of his father's chair broke their spell as he stood up, straightening his glasses.
"It's nine o'clock." It was the first time he had spoken in hours.
"We're almost finished, Airu. A few more minutes-"
"The train ride is an hour and a half. It's a school night, and Gray has a physics exam tomorrow." His voice was terse. "We'll visit again soon, Feena. I'm sorry."
"I just wanted a few more minutes with our child."
His eyes flashed at the picture book lying open. "He's not a child!"
Feena's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, he's not a grown man, either."
Gray blankly stared at his open textbook sitting beside him, blocking out their arguing. His gaze moved to the opened book on his mother's lap. He already knew the next lines by heart and he mouthed them as he focused on the humming of the fluorescent lights over his parents' voices.
"Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this?"
Gray blinked as he listened to Cliff's steady heartbeat by his side. He pressed his cheek against him and stared at the ceiling of their room.
"He turned into someone I didn't recognize... He'd snap at me for the stupidest reasons. Late library books... Lost train passes... One time when I bought the wrong brand of coffee from the supermarket."
Gray could still remember that evening. Airu removed his glasses, the dark circles under them more noticeable than ever under the kitchen lights. "Do you think we're just made out of money?! You picked the most expensive one on the shelf!"
Gray rolled his eyes.
"Don't ask me to pick it up for you then! Maybe try going without it if you're so worried about our budget!"
The thought of going without coffee now as a tired adult seemed like a joke. Perhaps he could've been more understanding, but still...
"That must have been hard," Cliff murmured.
I guess being friends with a priest would make someone a good listener...
Gray let out a soft sigh, nodding as a lump formed in his throat. "I'm sorry I'm always ranting."
Cliff thought of Claire's gentle patience while she sat at his side in the hospital. "It's okay. You can tell me more if you like. I don't mind."
"My memory got kinda bad as she got worse. It was hard to focus on school – I felt like all I did was study. Mom used to prepare all the meals. Dad... didn't really cook. He had lunch at the cafeteria at work and that had him set for the day, so he didn't bother worrying about me. I didn't really know how to cook..." Gray's cheeks flashed with embarrassment as he realized his friend foraged, hunted, and cooked his own food. "Ugh, I must sound like such a spoiled brat to you..."
He could feel Cliff shake his head. "If you weren't really taught, how could anyone expect you to? It wasn't your responsibility before."
Gray recalled his disasters in the kitchen. "I tried to make simple things. They tasted like shit. I was so hungry all the time. I got fired from my job at the convenience store when they found out I'd been stealing food. A hot dog here and there... It wasn't like Dad was going to feed me. I'd slide granola bars down my sleeves so I had something to eat when I got home. Everyone at work did it – I was just stupid enough to get caught." Gray let out a heavy sigh. "I wasn't going to tell Mom how I got fired – it would only make things worse. And Dad... he became dead-set on me getting a scholarship or full ride to a trade school or university."
"Engineering?" Cliff's question was soft.
Gray gave a sour nod in response. "Just like good ole Pops." His voice dripped with bitterness.
"It can be hard... being forced into a role you didn't ask for."
"No kidding. Mom held on... but Dad didn't."
Cliff looked down at his friend, concerned. "What do you mean?"
"Mom just kept getting weaker and weaker... But Dad... he couldn't take it anymore. That piece of garbage left us. His wife, his son." His eyes filled with angry tears. "He ditched his family because he was a coward and couldn't stand to see his wife dying! I mean, what kind of person does that?"
Cliff's blood ran cold. He could still feel the heat under the pendant Elder Zinnia had looped around his neck. Her hand at his waist had been a claw-like grip, holding him in place as he stared at the sea of expectant faces with blank eyes.
" You will be a fair, strong leader for our people, won't you?"
The necklace had felt like a noose.
He mulled over Gray's words. "Someone who... doesn't feel like they have any other options."
The wind was knocked out of him as Gray shoved him away with open palms. "A-Are you seriously defending him?!"
Cliff snapped back to reality, struggling to blink his memories away. "N-no... I'm just saying... I..."
Gray's eyes were hurt. "You think it was okay for Dad to leave me to take care of my dying mother when I was just eighteen?"
Airu hadn't been there the day she was moved to intensive care. Gray remained by her side, this time reading to her.
"Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter."
Gray turned the page, a lump forming in his throat as his voice faltered.
"A-and then... one day, the Boy w-was... ill."
He couldn't stop the tears from tumbling down his cheeks, dripping onto the pages below. A pale hand reached for his, her grip weak. He took it, holding fast.
"My dear Grayson, you're such a sweetheart." Her words were steady, calm, doting. She gave him a tired smile. "Let's take a little break."
Months had passed. His time absorbed in his studies had landed him a full ride at an engineering academy, which he numbly took. He still regularly visited Feena, bringing flowers, photos, her favorite juice, his old toys – anything he could think of to bring a smile to her face.
She handled Gray's old stuffed horse with care – it was an old favorite and brought him comfort throughout the years.
Gray confessed that he hated his father one of the last times he had seen his mother. He immediately regretted letting the words slip from his mouth – he hated burdening her with this information.
Feena had given him a sad smile. "You might for a while, but I hope you can learn to forgive him someday. You're a good boy, Gray... Don't let him – don't let this world – turn you sour..."
Anger welled in his chest, but he stopped his tongue, suppressing his emotions.
Mom's more important now. Be here for her.
He had a feeling one sunny afternoon that he would be saying goodbye. Gray, a trembling teenager, held his mother's hand as she passed later that day. He slowly felt anger fester.
Dad should be here...
Gray choked on a sob, burying his face in Cliff's pillow. "He didn't even show up for her funeral! I had no one!"
Cliff could hear Carter's voice when he was in the hospital with him.
"Would you hate me if I had done the same thing?"
Gray continued, the tears stinging his eyes. "I was left all by myself! Not so much as an apology or even checking in to see how I was doing! And here you are, taking his side!"
Cliff could still see the angry words scratched into the paper; he could practically hear Ivy's voice. The letter from Maria was long forgotten.
I'm ashamed to have you for a brother.
He thought of the desperation in her eyes and the mournful cry as he pushed past her to leave that fateful day.
Selfish.
Wren, confused and concerned, asking where he was going with Cain.
"Don't follow me."
An empty stage in the square upon returning three years later.
Cold glares and a frozen heart as tears streamed down his cheeks, numbing them. He had blinked mutely, staring at his mother's name etched into the gravestone.
Flint Yamamoto... and now, Katrina Yamamoto...
I... I'm an orphan.
He hadn't felt the sleet that picked up and whipped at his skin that day.
I didn't even get to say goodbye because I was too selfish.
"They said it was pneumonia, but it was really a broken heart that did her in."
I killed her.
"I... I was just a kid!" Cliff's voice cracked. His eyes welled up as he noticed Gray had gone silent.
The haziness from the alcohol was wearing off. Gray looked at him in silence, his pale eyes meeting Cliff's deep blue ones.
Cliff wiped his tears with his sleeve, his words shaking. "We both were. I'm sorry, Gray." He gave his friend a sincere gaze. "You're... allowed to hurt from it."
"I... hurt. I hurt so much, and I hate it!" Gray's throat tightened once more as the tears returned. "I... I guess it makes sense why Mary cares so much what her mom thinks."
"Mary?"
Gray wiped his eyes, nodding. He gently pulled his friend in close once more; Cliff's heartbeat had felt nice. "Yeah... I'm sorry... I just... need a few minutes."
Please don't leave me.
"W-Will you stay here with me?"
Cliff was taken aback by the vulnerability in Gray's request. "Of course I will."
Claire felt the suds tumble down her shoulders.
Still soapy...
She threw another bucket of hot water over her head. The chilly air was a stark contrast to the water and she quickly found herself shivering. Her breath came out in visible puffs as she bit back a squeak, tiptoeing to the hot spring and climbing in. She sunk down until the water reached her chin and she closed her eyes with a sigh. Her blonde hair splayed about and floated on the surface of the steaming water. She allowed her mind to drift, and a childhood memory entered her thoughts.
The shoes Claire was wearing were pinching her toes, but she kept her mouth shut as her parents surely wanted.
"A new pair will have to wait," Yvette had told her with a slight frown earlier that evening. "This apartment is much more expensive because of the location. We'll get you some new clothes once we get our essentials covered."
Claire had given her mother a shaky nod. Puberty had hit the ten-year-old all at once and her ill-fitting clothing made her very self-conscious. The buttons on her blouse strained against the fabric, and she folded her arms across her chest, her cheeks burning with shame. She felt that if she breathed in too deeply, the buttons were going to go ricocheting across the room. She wished she could just wear her school uniform – it had been ages since she had gotten any new formal wear.
"Don't stand like that," Yvette snapped, combing her hair in the mirror.
Claire straightened her posture, gulping. She wished her mother would hand her the brush and let her do it herself, but she once more feared for her buttons.
Yvette caught their reflection. "Oh, that'll never do," her mother commented. "Let's find you something else."
Claire felt a wave of relief.
"How late is fashionably late?" Armand's voice was muffled behind the door.
Claire averted her eyes, pretending she didn't hear Yvette curse under her breath. "It's going to be a moment, Dear. We're having a bit of trouble with Claire."
The girl could hear his impatient footsteps move up and down the hallway.
The anxiety in her stomach felt like a sour ball, and it was growing by the second. "I-I can stay home if you want," Claire whispered, guilt weighing heavily upon her.
Yvette's perky smile returned. "Nonsense. The other managers are bringing their children. We'll just find something else for you to wear that won't split if you try to sit down. You don't want to go to a dinner party looking like an overstuffed cocktail sausage."
Despite the lighthearted giggle from her mother, Claire's shoulders sank as a deep shame overcame her; the words had stung. "I-I'm sorry, Mum..."
Yvette was already rifling through Claire's closet. "We'll find something else..."
But they hadn't found anything else. The few hand-me-downs that Colette and Simone had left behind for Claire before moving out were comically large on her. A hastily tied silk scarf was given to Claire as they hurried to their destination.
The speech that preceded the dinner was dry, but Claire spent her time steadying her posture and trying to ignore the delicious smells of the catered food. She spied a pair of siblings around her age sitting on the other side of the room and couldn't help but notice that the girl had a lovely violet dress that made her look very grown up. The brother had caught Claire's eye and they shared a shy smile. She caught a whiff of savory sauces and entrees as she heard the caterers assemble the buffet and her smile fell.
Overstuffed cocktail sausage.
She sucked in her stomach, realizing with horror that it made the problem worse, her lungs expanded and she felt the strain on the fabric.
When the food was offered, her eyes glowed with the selection. Fresh greens for salad, pasta, chicken, bread rolls, carrots, mashed potatoes, sweets...
Maybe just one bite of everything...
She had a plan for sitting back down and not losing any buttons. As her family was busy taking their seats, she set down her plate and swiftly gripped the buttons on her blouse with any slack fabric she could grab and sat down swiftly.
Her eyes widened in horror when she felt the fabric tear. Her eyes flicked toward her parents and they were busy commenting on the food enthusiastically, deciding what to try first. As she turned in her chair, she could feel the upholstery grazing bare skin. The blood drained from her face.
Claire quietly excused herself, shakily standing up and rushing to the restroom.
She was grateful that it was empty. Turning around and looking in the mirror, she let out a gasp in horror to see the split down the back of her blouse.
Claire stood numbly for a moment, the blood in her veins running cold. She tried to fight the lump forming in her throat, but tears were already streaming down her face.
She recalled cooking dinner earlier that week. The sausages had sizzled in the skillet, and one burst open with a loud sizzle, spitting grease at her.
Her mother's chuckle replayed in her head, sounding more disgusted than anything else.
"You don't want to go to a dinner party looking like an overstuffed cocktail sausage."
The tears fell harder and as she caught her red face in the mirror, she choked on a sob.
Mum, Colette, and Simone all are so graceful and beautiful. I'm so clumsy, and I ruin everything...
She cried harder, pulling herself into a stall and locking it behind her. Her eyes stung and she lost track of time.
Mum and Dad are going to be mad...
How am I even supposed to go back there? I can't...
I'm just going to stay in here forever.
Claire leaned against the partition, blowing her nose.
The clicking of heels on the floor caused Claire to gasp and hold her breath, hiccoughing. She hadn't heard the door opening with all the racket she was making. She listened for the toilet to flush, then the sink to run... the rumpling of paper towels.
A beat of silence.
"Are you alright in there, dear?"
Claire sniffed as she caught her breath. The other person hadn't left. Their voice sounded soothing, kind...
"Y-yeah... I'm alright..." Her cheeks burned with shame as she wept afresh.
"What's your name? Would you like me to get your mother?"
"No!" Claire didn't mean to be so loud. "S-sorry..."
"We can talk if you like. My name is Yuka. Perhaps I can help."
Claire found herself opening the stall door despite her instincts telling her to not bother the other person.
A very distinguished-looking woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes gave her a gentle smile.
Claire draped her hair over one shoulder and turned around, revealing the split on her shirt. "I ripped it. I... I can't go back out there." She struggled to push down her emotions, but tears still fell down her cheeks. "I ruined it. I ruin everything."
"Oh, I'm sure you don't ruin everything, dear." She was rummaging through her small handbag that coordinated with her lovely purple silk dress and produced a safety pin, eyeing up the scarf around Claire's neck. "Here, I got an idea."
She carefully tied the scarf so that the ends fell behind Claire's shoulders. The pin was added to the split.
"There we go. It'll hold you until you get home. You look great, Claire."
Claire admired the woman's handiwork in the mirror and fought the instinct to scrunch up her face and cry. It looked effortlessly graceful and stylish. She could tell that it was fastened to give her a little extra space; she could breathe more comfortably. "Th-thank you."
The woman smiled kindly. "Now dry those tears and wash your hands. We don't want to miss out on those praline brownies, do we?"
Claire felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward as she nodded.
She had left the restroom feeling more confident. Returning to her seat, she was grateful to dig into her food – her appetite had returned. She caught her parents looking at her curiously, but they said nothing.
The brownies had been delicious.
"Thank you all for attending. And now for one last word from our CEO, Ms. Yuka Hanashiro!"
The woman in the purple dress strode behind the podium confidently and Claire felt her throat tighten.
This is Dad's boss... Maybe his boss's boss?
"... And as we focus on the future ahead of us, it's vital to remember what is really important to each of us. It's been an absolute pleasure meeting with your families. Please be safe on your way home, and thank you for attending."
Claire's head felt like it was in a fog as they were preparing to leave. She was even in more of a daze when they been approached by the CEO as she was getting ready to leave.
"Ah, M-Ms. Hanashiro... it's an honor." Armand bowed his head in greeting.
"Mr. Dumont, correct?" She gave him a grin.
Claire watched her father's face light up. "Yes. I wanted to thank you for putting on this lovely event. This is my wife, Yvette, and my daughter..."
"Ah, Claire. It's so nice to meet you all, and I'm glad you could attend. Have a great evening."
"Yes, you as well!"
Yuka turned to leave and paused, whirling around and giving Claire a wink. "Chin up, Claire. I hope your night has gotten better."
She felt her cheeks burn. "Y-yes, m'am..."
Yuka gave them a smile and took her leave, but Claire noticed her parents stopped walking.
Armand turned toward Claire, his face pale. His brows furrowed as his gaze turned toward his wife, cocking his head in the direction of the restroom.
Claire felt a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach as Yvette took her by the arm, leading them to privacy. She wished her mother's grip wasn't so tight – her heart was already pounding out of her chest, and it only added to her discomfort.
The door closed behind them and Claire attempted to steady her breath.
"Claire."
Her mother's stern voice commanded her to look at her. Claire's head tilted upward, but her eyes drifted uncomfortably toward the ceiling.
"Look at me, Claire."
The girl gulped and was met with a pair of hard blue eyes. "Your eyes were red when you came back from the bathroom earlier. Did you inconvenience Ms. Hanashiro and cry in front of her?"
Claire fought to bite back tears, but despite her best intentions, they streamed down her cheeks. "Sh-She... asked me to come out of the stall so we could talk."
Yvette let out a long-suffering sigh. "We've talked about this. You need to stop crying over every little thing. It's embarrassing and gives the wrong impression. How do you think your father feels right now?"
Claire choked on a sob. "I-I didn't mean to..."
"Think of how uncomfortable it must have felt to Ms. Hanashiro to hear someone crying in the bathroom. When you do this, you push your burdens onto someone else. She didn't ask for that, now did she?"
Claire shook her head, struggling to silence herself, hiccoughing and sniffing.
"We never had this problem with Colette and Simone. I honestly don't know where you get it from. I know we raised you better than that. We raised you to think of others. When you cry like this, you're not doing that. Do you understand?"
Yvette was given a shamed nod in response. She retrieved a paper towel for her daughter, placing a hand on Claire's shoulder. The girl flinched before gratefully accepting the paper with a mumbled thanks.
"It's not enough to simply hope this is something you will grow out of. You need to be proactive, Claire. We all have things we need to improve on. Your father and I will talk tonight and discuss what needs to be done."
Her heart sunk. She buried her face in the paper towel. "Y-yes, Mum."
"Now we're going to wait in here until you can calm down and conduct yourself like a good child."
She didn't look up from her paper towel and let out a disappointed sigh. "Yes, Mum..."
Claire wasn't sure if it was tears or condensation from the steam running down her face. She dipped her face into the hot spring water and let out a sigh, trying her best to ignore the lump that had formed in her throat. A breeze brushed some snowflakes into the air and she watched as they vanished above her, melted by the heat.
She remembered Simone's calm voice as she sat across from her in the farmhouse.
"You've always been like this – terrified of their disapproval."
Isn't that just a natural instinct, though? I'm trying, but...
Her heart pounded with a jolt.
What would Mum and Dad think, me traveling out with Cliff? I haven't even sent a photo to them of us, and I'm planning to meet his family...
How far out is Flowerbud? Would we stay at their house, and would it even be large enough to accommodate us all? Would I stay in my own room, or...?
Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the night after the grape harvest at the winery. Cliff's body had felt so nice and warm curled against hers, and he was so gentle with her, giving her cheek a soft kiss when she woke with a start in the middle of the night.
I'm assuming too much!
We've already shared a bed, technically... and I guess I booked that room for the both of us in Forget-Me-Not Valley...
Oh, Mum and Dad would be furious...
Simone makes it sound so simple. I know I'm a grown adult that can make my own decisions, but still...
I can't help but want to make them proud.
She bit her lip, her mind focusing back on Gray's words from the day before.
Gray can't really mean that... not caring what his father thinks...
Her own experiences in trying to be a good child still were fresh in her mind, and the idea of someone rejecting a parent felt so unfamiliar to her. She had admitted to him that she hadn't been able to relate, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was letting Gray down in some way. Between that and her inviting him to be more open with her, she was left unsure of how to handle things.
When he had told her to leave, she was glad that she had decided to spend the afternoon focusing on the sheep she was tending to - anything for a change of pace. They were gentle animals, and they seemed to enjoy her attention. Koro was happy to see her home early, and they spent time in the barn. The sheep, used to Barley's old dog, Hannah, took well to the young dog, and the young lamb, Marshmallow, had frolicked and chased Koro a bit within the warm confines of the barn. The smithy was closed tomorrow and she was grateful for it; not only for the break from Gray, but the extra time she'd get to spend with the animals.
The barn had been dusted and cleaned in Claire's anticipation of her new guests, and seeing the sheep in there with her dog brought deep contentment. She promised herself that someday there would be permanent residents in this barn.
More lives depending on me... I have to take good care of them.
Her mind turned back toward that afternoon. The initial sting she had felt from Gray's outburst had lost it's edge, but her heart still hurt.
I know he is feeling worse, but still...
"I can hardly compare to your 'noble rescue' of Cliff..."
Sighing, she sank deeper into the water. Gray had almost sounded jealous of her. She reflected on how useless she had felt throughout the whole ordeal.
"I wasn't able to help him at all," she whispered aloud. "Ann was the one he wanted to talk to when we took him in... Carter helped with counseling and Elli and Trent treated him. I just sat at home and worried... until he finally opened up to me, that is..."
Until Gray wants to talk more with me, it's going to be hard to relate to him. I thought things were going well, but him snapping at me the way he did...
She hated that it had made her cry – that everything did.
Claire stared up at the stars, floating on her back. Her breasts floated and the cold winter air stung at the exposed skin. She looked down at them with a sigh.
"Overstuffed cocktail sausage," she mumbled absentmindedly.
The creaking of the wood steps on the other side of the privacy screen caused Claire to gasp. She choked a bit on the water as she ducked down, disguising a surprised squeak.
A smart rap of the knuckles hit the door. "Hello? Anyone in here?"
She recognized Harris's voice immediately. "Ah, occupied! It's Claire!"
"Oh, uh..." She could hear him shuffling his feet. "Bathing hours are over for the night."
"Oh." Claire was already lamenting having to get out of the hot water.
"S-Sorry, Claire. I'm not usually so strict about it, but with the colder weather and the increased sightings of wild dogs in the area, I want everyone to stay safe."
"I see." She pulled herself out of the water. The young woman would have preferred to dry off a little better, especially in the cold weather, but knowing that someone was waiting on her caused her to rush. She bundled her things and met Harris at the door, mumbling an apology.
"It's alright. Let me escort you home."
"Thank you." Claire forced a small smile on her face – she would have preferred a longer soak.
The walked in silence for a few minutes, Claire taking her time down the steeper parts of the mountain trail.
"So... do the wild dogs usually show up in this area?"
Harris shook his head. "It's been an odd season, according to Gotz, and it's making the wildlife a little less predictable. The coyotes don't typically don't come this close to town, but they're looking for food."
"And there haven't been many things for them to eat out here since fall. Cliff had trouble finding much while hunting," she pointed out.
"He do small game hunting, or was he looking for deer?"
Claire remembered those anxious days in autumn and was grateful they were over. "Anything, basically. I'm glad he's working for Duke and Manna now."
There was a pained smile on Harris's face as they crunched through the snow. "They're... I'm glad they have more help now."
She wondered if those feelings were sincere. After all, their daughter, his young love, had run away from home.
Harris seemed to notice the awkward silence as well. "Well, they'll be needing to be operating at a higher capacity. Doug tells me that he's putting on a Winter Thanksgiving/Valentine shindig this year at the bar. Dancing, drinks, snacks... I imagine it will be pretty popular if summer's party is any indication."
Claire was glad for the change of subject. "Well, sounds like I'll be needing to borrow some cookbooks from the library to make some chocolates. I've also heard of these famous chocolate cookies Ann makes..."
Harris's lighthearted laugh caught her off guard. "An annual favorite for sure. It'll be worth going just for the snacks!"
Claire found herself smirking. "Says you! All the women are the ones making and passing out chocolate to the men!"
Harris shook his head. "My dad would be the type of person to insist that it's tradition, but who says you can't have some for yourself? Doug was going to make a large batch of drinkable chocolate for the menu."
She was reminded of those decadent praline brownies at the company buffet, and her bitterness about that evening faded.
She could already see Anna and Thomas raising their eyebrows about her indulging in the sweets as well, but she quickly realized she didn't care.
"I'm looking forward to it already," Claire admitted with a smile.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for your patience! I've been going through a lot of changes in my life lately. Good ones, though. Starting to feel more like myself and unwind. It's definitely a process, and it's been taking longer than I thought it would. I'm trying my best to be kind and patient to myself, and I have such great, supportive friends and loved ones who have been awesome through the whole thing.
A special thanks to ModernTsunami for getting me into music playlists for inspiration for characters/stories. For Gray, I drew some inspiration from Cavetown's "Boys will be Bugs" and "Broken Crown" by Mumford and Sons. For Claire's flashback, I listened to "Prom Dress" by mxmtoon.
I loved The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams and I'd always beg my mom to read it to me even though it made me cry every time. My mom hid the book from me and wouldn't read it to me because I'd cry, but I'd find it and read it myself. (Yes, I was, and am, a crybaby like Claire and would get scolded for it). Even today, I still love the story, and it still gives me the feels. The copyright for the book has expired and it can be read for free online on Project Gutenberg if you're interested – I'd highly recommend it!
I was eager to use some of the symbolism of the story for Gray's childhood here. He's been pretty tight-lipped up until now about his teenage years. I liked the idea of Gray already being into reading before moving to Mineral Town. We'll hear more about his transition to Mineral Town soon, and I hope you like it. Gray and Cliff's pasts are similar but very different – Cliff being the one leaving/abandoning, and Gray being the one left behind.
I felt like it was finally time for Gray to let it out and allow himself to cry. Cliff's still a little raw from his whole ordeal, but he's more determined than ever to be there for his friends. Despite the sad content in this chapter, it was cathartic to write, and I hope it gave you some feels. Thank you so much for reading! Please be kind to yourself and stay safe! :)