TRIGGERS: None that I know of
Jack and Emma sit at the dining table with their mom, a small board game in the middle of them. Emma moves her piece forward three spaces and sighs in complaint.
"Jail!" Jack laughs and takes her piece, putting it in the jail square. Emma pouts and stares at her game piece.
"That's like the thirtieth time!"
"Honey I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," their mom laughs as she picks up the dice and rolls a seven. She moves her piece and lands on a square. Mulberry Street. "Damn it." she whispers under her breath.
Jack snickers and holds out his hand.
Their mom rolls her eyes and slaps a small orange $100 bill with a purple $20 bill in his hand. He smiles and puts it into his pile of money before rolling the dice. With a clatter, the cubes land on the table at a ten. He cheers and moves his piece forward ten spaces.
Emma groans when he lands on the free parking space. Hundreds of dollars lay in the middle of the board, which Jack scoops up and throws in the air in celebration. Their mom chuckles at his antics and Emma smiles, but stubbornly keeps quiet.
Before Jack can gather the money from the floor and toss it onto his pile, his phone rings. The peaceful atmosphere is shattered and he jumps in surprise. He picks up his phone and looks at the caller ID. He almost ignores the call upon seeing the unknown number, but jolts with realization when he notices the time. Hurriedly, he answers the phone and brings it up to his ear. He silently excuses himself and trips over his chair on his way out, cursing under his breath.
"You okay there mate?" Aster's Australian accent is barely registerable over the phone.
"What? Oh. Yeah, sorry," Jack rubs the back of his neck, red embarrassment heating his cheeks. "Tripped over a chair."
Aster chuckles.
"You're quite clumsy, aye?" Jack doesn't have time to object before the man speaks again. "I have your cake ready, strange quote 'n all. You able to come pick it up?"
Jack almost nods before realizing that Aster can't see him.
"Yeah, uh," he scrambles to tug on his shoes and grab the keys from their holder on the wall. "I'll be there in like, ten minutes."
Aster just laughs.
"What?" Jack peeks into the dining room and waves at Emma, pointing to the phone before he leaves.
"Dude. What's so funny?" Jack smiles and walks through the front door.
"Nothin'," he can practically hear Aster's smile. "See ya soon, ya drongo."
He hangs up before Jack can ask what that means.
The sky is slightly dark by the time Jack arrives to the small bakery. The clock in the jeep glows blue, reading 4:41. He parks and pulls the keys out of the ignition, stuffing them into his pocket before stepping onto the shoveled pavement and shutting the car door behind him. The crisp wind bites at his nose and ears, cleaning the air of its polluted scent. Snow brushed to the edges of the sidewalk reflects what little light is left in the sky.
Pumpkins and small brown bunnies with scarves are painted on the windows of the bakery. Jack smiles and walks in, his hand cold from the metal bar of the door; he doesn't notice. The aroma is lovely; deep scents of chocolate waft through the air and soft music plays in the background. He walks up to the counter and rings the bell, leaning his arms on the dark oak while he waits.
Aster steps through the archway that Jack assumes leads to the kitchen. His slate blue hair is fluffed with white particles in it, as if he ran his hands through his hair when they were packed with flour. He has patches of said flour decorating his black undershirt. His green flannel, however, looks like it was just pulled out of the clean laundry bin. A cakebox is held in his hands, which he sets down on the counter before leaning toward Jack just as he had earlier.
"Hey, Frostbite,"
Jack furrows his eyebrows.
"Frostbite?"
Aster chuckles and and slides the box toward Jack.
"Yeah, yer last name is Frost," he gestures outside. "And I always see ya in the cold, doesn't seem like ya mind the weather."
Jack hums and gestures his head toward the speakers.
"Yeah, I don't mind it. What I don't like is your middle-aged dad music."
Werewolves of London begins to play and Jack just cocks an eyebrow, smirking.
"What? Ya don't like classic rock!?" Aster stands up straight and stares at Jack. The younger just shrugs and shakes his head.
"Ya cannot be serious, mate!"
"Afraid I am. Mate."
The older just glares at him.
"Ya kiss ya boyfriend with that mouth?"
Jack's eyes widen in shock and a cold heat makes its way to his cheeks. He nervously laughs it off.
"I-Uh, I don't have one."
Aster smiles but doesn't say another word, handing the box to Jack.
"Have a good night, Jack. And drive safe."
Jack just politely smiles before walking out the door, too afraid of saying something stupid to say anything at all; which, after getting settled in the car, he realizes was quite stupid in itself.
"Goodnight, ma," Jack gets up from the couch and gives his mom a hug. "Happy birthday."
She smiles and kisses his hair.
"Thank you sweetheart. Tuck your sister in, will you?"
"Of course," he smiles at her before walking up the creaky stairs and knocking softly on Emma's door. "You ready for bed, Ems?"
Jack waits patiently in the silent hallway, admiring the shadows that play on the walls, dancing away from the street lights filtering in through the windows. His ears begin to ring in the silence and he gently pushes the door open. Shadows loom in corners where the blue night light can't reach and small fairy lights decorate the window, glowing with a soft white light.
He walks quietly into the room. Posters of harp seals and polar bears decorate the white walls and he can feel their eyes on him, watching him.
"Em?" he whispers. Paranoia pricks at his heart and he reaches out to Emma's fluffy white blankets. What if she isn't there? Would she be in the bathroom? Where could she be if she wasn't in bed?
"Jack?" The pile of blankets moves and Jack's heart stops until he realizes it's just Emma. Relief floods through his veins and he smiles.
"Hey," he sits down on the edge of the bed, gently moving her legs so he has room to sit. "I came to say goodnight."
"Tell me a story?"
Jack smiles and nods. He has her sit up, letting her rest on his shoulder as he reaches behind her and fluffs her pillows before settling her back down and tucking the thick blankets around her before reaching over and shutting off the fairy lights around her window.
"Once upon a time," he starts, leaning against the bed frame. Emma moves closer to him and rests her head between his side and the pillows, curling up in a ball and waiting patiently for the story.
"There was a sweet littleā¦" he pauses for a moment, leaning his head back and looking around the room. His eyes land on a small soft stuffed bunny. "Bunny."
"What was its name?" Emma whispers, eyes closed.
"Her name?" Jack hums in thought and absentmindedly crosses his arms over his chest. "Her name was Ermen."
"Ermen had her very own garden, with hundreds of thousands of flowers, all planted and grown from her very own paws. She had yellow, orange and red flowers. She had blue, purple and green flowers. She even had white and black flowers. She had it all,"
"She had the biggest garden of the village. All the villagers came to see her garden. It's taken her years and years to grow it and nurture it and love it, and she wanted people to see it,"
"But she didn't set any boundaries. People took and took and never gave back. They picked the flowers to put in pretty vases and keep in their kitchen, only for them to die after a few days. They kept coming back for more. They wanted the daffodils, the chrysanthemums, the asters, the poppies, the roses. They wanted it all,"
Jack's eyelids grow heavy and his thick brown bangs fall in front of his face. He sighs and closes his eyes.
"The garden was bare. There were no more colourful flowers to decorate the bare ground. It was brown. That's all it was. Ermen's heart ached and all she wanted was to plant more flowers. But it took her years to do it by herself. She needed help, but she didn't know if the villagers would help her replant her garden.
"So, Ermen hopped door to door and asked for help. She told the villagers she cannot offer any more flowers if they don't help to plant more. For a few days, nobody showed up. She was left alone to replant her entire garden and her heart ached. But then, one day, someone does show up. He tells her he'll help her plant her garden. And the next day, another person helps her. More and more people help her replant her garden, until one day, it's finally as colourful as it was before. And this time, nobody took the flowers home, because they helped her plant them, and they learned what it meant to her."
Jack looks down and sees Emma fast asleep, breathing steadily. He yawns and lets himself fall asleep with his head against the wall.
Jack wakes up to a weird buzzing feeling on his stomach. The room is dark, with only a faint blue glow to offer relief to his eyes. A cramping pain embraces his neck and he sits up with a groan. He looks down and sees a faint rectangle of light glowing in his hoodie pocket.
He looks over to see Emma with her head between his arm and the pillows. He slowly lifts his arm, settling her head completely on the pillow before he carefully shifts off the bed and pulls the blanket above her shoulders again.
"Goodnight, Em," he whispers before leaving the room and cracking the door behind him. He walks across the hall into his room, switching on the light and shutting the door. He closes the blinds and pulls pajama bottoms out of the closet, which he then clumsily changes into.
He stands there for a while, staring at the floor and debating whether he should take his binder off or not. He doesn't want to harm his ribs more than he already has, and nobody is around to see his chest anyway. Sighing in annoyance, he yanks his hoodie off and removes his binder, placing it on top of his chair before slipping on an oversized shirt.
He switches off the light and climbs into bed, pulling the thick covers over himself. He plugs his phone in and almost rolls over to sleep, but remembers what woke him up. He turns his phone on and swipes through the various notifications, disappointment coursing through his mind. But then his heart races and his nerves begin to dance with the fluttering wings of butterflies flitting through his veins.
UNKNOWN: Hey, it's Aster. :)
And for what feels like hours, all Jack can do is stare at it.
