I Collect Coins, a night in the woods fanfic

((A/N) I was inspired to write this story after reading Rcw99's excellent short tale, "Killer," which you can read on Archive of Our Own. It is wise to read that story before reading mine, as this is a continuation. I utilize the characterization provided by the author, although this work will expand considerably upon what is implied in that story.

I understand this is not a traditional pairing and it is not my intention to yuck on anyone else's preferred yum. Consider this, as with any other fan work, to be a would-could-be as opposed to some sort of treatise on Mae's messy love life.

Enjoy. There will be character portraits, and at least one joke.)

Mr. Andrew Cullen,

Thank you for your continued punctuality regarding our deadlines. We do apologize, however, in that we must inform you we no longer require your services. Our rebranding, as we were so bold to call it, has reached a so-and-so stasis, in that we are left without the funds to continue pursuing it. You will be pleased to note, however, that we will provide you with partial payment for the work you have provided us so far, as soon as we are able to contribute as much to your worthy cause as a freelancer.

Best wishes from Revolutions Tech Solutions—

"Bite me."

Andy moved the email to his Finished folder, because that's what Revolutions Tech Solutions were. Another project without a cent added to his name, eyes strained by the stress and extra screen time, and an extra pound of weight from spending all day at the computer. Mock up some logos, get feedback, edit, feedback, edit, feedback, revert. This was the game that he, once again, had lost.

This was not the mood Andy was hoping for heading into the evening. He had promised Mae Borowski that he'd meet her at the parking lot outside the abandoned Food Donkey. She assured him that the parking lot would provide them with enough room for baseball in whatever bastardized form she was picturing.

In truth, all Andy wanted was a little extra closure in their complex situation. Their night at the Clik Clak was a start, but the thought of playing baseball with Mae without ending up…

Andy didn't notice as he scratched the border between his black given beak and the sheen of the white prosthetic screwed into place. That summer he'd have his annual check up to make sure it was keeping nicely. Yearly face maintenance.

As Andy tied up his skate shoes, he took a look around his room. The bird would be the first to admit he was not much of an interior decorator. Plain white walls with a blue carpet. A bed. A computer. A window with a blue curtain only opened when it was raining. No posters, no paintings. He even kept his Associate's certificate in his closet in the envelope it came with. That was okay, though. That was the point. Keep it clean. No fuss. Just Andy and the necessities. No accouterments to weigh him down.

All he needed was what he had, all he had was what he needed.

He stepped out of his room and kept his head low as he rushed out the door and toward the Food Donkey, tightening his hoodie as the winter chill brushed against his face.

Mae Borowski was practicing her swing.

In her usual outfit, plus a ratty navy blue fleece jacket her mother insisted she wear to keep warm (currently unzipped, of course), Mae was trying to reintroduce herself to the stance an actual baseball player would consider taking when wanting to hit a baseball. So far, her knees bent, her shoulders straight, she grimaced at the thought of how utterly self-serious she must have looked in that moment.

Still, she knew that she had to practice if she wanted to make a good impression on Andy Cullen. Their last meeting at the diner went well, but it would be this get-together that would provide them with just the right amount of closure they needed. Yep, Mae was a normal person now who could hit a baseball and not ruin someone's life or cave their face in, or both. She just needed to prove that, and then maybe the two of them could feel at least marginally better about everything ever.

Resting her head on her bat, Mae took in the winter air. It was an unseasonably warm day for wintertime, no snow on the ground, but still just barely above freezing. The sun hung low in the sky as an early night was not long ahead. It was incredible, really, just how clear the sky could be above the cracked pavement and litter and abandoned cars in the parking lot. Almost beautiful, if you ignored the overall feeling of loss and regret that permeated the scene.

"Hey, you're here!" Mae shouted with a shake of her head to bring her back to the moment at hand.

Her amber eyes were wide as she took in the sight of a shy bird hiding in his bulky hoodie. Surprisingly crisp blue jeans and black and white skate shoes accented his black feathers and dark, dark eyes.

The bird shrugged.

"That was the plan."

Mae shrugged back.

"Well, I dunno. You coulda changed your mind. It's cool."

"Oh. Well, I wasn't planning on that."

An awkward silence fell over them. In spite of the peaceful resolution of their last meeting, the two felt a great need to be careful around one another, just in case.

"You brought your glove," Mae said, pointing at the fading leather mitt Andy pulled over his left hand.

"Hard to pitch without it," Andy smirked, trying to keep things as casual as they could be.

"Right, right. Well, I brought my bat!" decreed Mae, holding it aloft like a great sword forged in the fire of the gods.

Andy's face fell, but Mae didn't notice. "I definitely see that," the bird said.

Mae took a step back and sighed. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

Was this going okay?

"So," Andy started, stretching his muscles, his shoulder already tight, "What was the plan here? I let you hit some pitches?"

Mae pointed at Andy with her bat. "Yeah! Or, well, you could try to throw some by me too."

Andy shrugged again.

"I could try. I'm really rusty here."

"Same."

"Well, let's suck together then."

"Suck buddies!" Mae shouted, her arms spread as she welcomed the term.

Andy was not welcoming himself. "Uh…"

"Huh?" Mae asked, scratching her head, genuinely unsure what the misunderstanding was.

"Never mind," Andy sighed.

Just gotta get it over with, right?

"Bam! Crowd goes wild."

Mae cheered for herself as she hit another baseball well over Andy and into the ditch bordering the end of the parking lot.

"And you said you were out of practice."

Andy spoke casually, but shook. His shoulder ached after just a few pitches and, as it turned out, watching Mae wield and utilize a bat, even for its intended purpose, was not doing any wonders for the bird's mental wellbeing.

Mae shrugged. "Well, I hit other stuff with my bat."

Andy flinched. "Of course you do."

There it was again, a memory fading into place. An image of a time long since past, but never forgotten, edited over time to its bare essentials. All light faded. Red eyes, wide in an animalistic daze. A gasp. And pain. An incredible pain that grew and grew, until suddenly, it stopped.

Mae realized how her remark could be interpreted. "Oh. Whoops."

Andy shook his head slowly, not entirely within the present, but still able to speak. "No, no. It's cool. I get you. It's okay."

This was his chance, he realized. It was time to fight back. The cat who nearly killed him could be stopped this time.

And so Andy threw a pitch as fast as he could.

Right at Mae's head.

"Holy crap!"

Mae dodged out of the way of the rogue projectile, falling to the ground in a cloud of dust, rust, and discarded screws. She didn't get up right away as she stared up at Andy. The cat watched the bird shudder, staring ahead at her as he seemed to come back into himself.

"Damn it," Andy whispered, but Mae could still hear him.

"You okay?" Mae asked, scratching her head and pushing herself off the asphalt.

Andy watched Mae get back up and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Mighta just… messed up my shoulder," Andy relaxed his tense muscles, giving his arm a quick rotation and avoiding eye contact in the process.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Just gotta let myself settle down."

It was only with those words that Andy realized what he'd done. He watched as Mae scurried around the parking lot, picking up baseballs and knocking them back to his feet.

One thing he knew for sure, she was good with a bat.

"This was a bad idea," he whispered.

Mae still heard him.

"What?"

Andy shook his head and stared down at his battered glove. "I just got over all of... everything, and now I'm playing baseball with you? I must be crazy."

Mae approached Andy, trying to find some eye contact. "Oh. I thought—"

Andy interrupted.

"No point in thinking, Mae. It's all messed up. Ya know, some tech startup out west hired me for logo ideas. I swear, every time I'd show them something, they'd ask for the tiniest, dumbest changes. Make it wider. Darker. Make this part red, this part blue. No, a different shade of blue. I spent a month and a half getting nowhere with them, and then they dumped me a few hours ago."

"Sounds like a bad relationship," Mae said with a smirk.

Andy smiled at Mae. "They ran outta money."

Mae put her bat on the ground. Pebbles scattered around it. "No kidding! You can't even decide what your logo should look like, imagine them making actual decisions. 'Goodness me, shall we lend our services to the local grocery mart?' 'Nay, I say. Truly, they are not worthy of our raw technical power!'"

Andy raised an eye. "Why do they sound like Victorian England fops?"

With her hands behind her back, Mae answered, "Pretty sure when your business is dumb enough, that's the only way you can talk."

"Behind closed doors, they're all Victorian."

"The Evil English."

"Evil Englanders From Beyond."

"Part II: Actually, Make it All Green!" Mae boomed, arms spread wide as she as she announced the name of the west coast's next great startup.

"No!" Andy screamed in mock freelancer fear.

The two of them shared a smile as the winter's chill began to catch up with them. Mae balanced on the balls of her feet as Andy shivered. The horizon turned a shade of orange.

"Hey, listen," Mae began, searching for the right words, "Maybe baseball's a bad idea right now. Wanna, uh, get tacos?"

"Tacos?" echoed Andy, taken aback by the offer.

Mae nodded. "Mhmm! A place opened up a couple months back. They're so good!"

Another dirty restaurant in a filthy, tainted town.

"Do they do to-go?" asked Andy.

"Yeah, and I'll pay for it too!"

"How can I argue with that?"

The cashier at Taco Buck was not surprised to see Mae again for the third time that week, although he was wide-eyed at the sight of a bird with half a beak glowering behind Mae and mumbling his order. Mae was glad to repeat Andy's order, decreeing it for the sake of all those present.

Yes, world, Mae Borowski was gonna get some tacos, as must be known.

"Sorry your job sucks right now."

Mae spoke between bites of chicken taco, a bat under her arm and a little bag of baseballs over her shoulder.

Andy watched Mae talk with her mouth full. He stared down at his veggie taco with spicy cream sauce as if it was a foreign object to be studied under a microscope with great scrutiny.

It tasted good, though.

"Enh, it'll be okay," Andy said after he swallowed. "That's what I get for taking a risk like that. Pay was too good to be true."

Mae's eyes grew wide. "No way! Can't blame yourself for someone else screwing up like that. Those guys were the worst."

Andy blinked as he stared at Mae. He wasn't sure what surprised him more, the kind words or Mae's carrying capacity.

"Yeah. They were," he whispered.

"Doesn't change the fact your art is awesome, right?" Mae asked, leaning into the conversation.

"No. I guess not."

"I wish I drew as good as you, Andy. I actually told my brain doc about you. Dr. Blake is actually kinda really okay at his job."

Dr. Hermann Blake was a six foot, two inch tall, skinny gray and silver dog with pointed ears and tired eyes. His voice was soothing, but not boring. Every time he spoke, Mae did her best to listen, although some of what he said did go well over Mae's head.

"Is that right?" Andy asked, waiting for Mae to go on. She really was getting help, wasn't she?

"He sorta brought up the fact that, well, sometimes when something bad happens to someone, the worst part of it can stay in their mind for a long time. So if something happens that reminds them of that bad thing, they can remember it. Relive it, even, like it's happening again right then. And sometimes they don't even need to be reminded of it. It can come back just because."

Andy was reminded of his talks with a therapist of his own. He couldn't remember her name. A lizard, maybe? His dad said he didn't need to see her anymore after just a few visits. 'He's got it out of his system.'

Mae was still going. "And then there's the whole thing about loud noises and fast movements scaring you because you think the bad thing can get you again and, well, what I'm trying to say is, I'm extra sorry. And I know you said you were doing better, and that's awesome, but now I got a better idea of what I did to you and I wanna apologize now that I know all this and yeah."

Mae was stopped in front of Andy. Her eyes were wide again, but wavering. For the first time since they began their walk, the bag of baseballs seemed to weigh against her.

Andy motioned for Mae to give her the bag, but she gave him the baseball bat instead. Andy stared at it as if it was going to whisper dark secrets, but all it did was sit there in his grasp.

Andy gulped. "And like I said, it's totally cool. It took me a bit to figure it out, but I got a handle on it now. I'm okay. I promise. You are forgiven. Forever."

"Forever forgiven?" Mae asked with a quirk of her head.

"Forgever," Andy deadpanned.

"Forgever!" Mae shouted as she hopped up on the nearest trash can. With another hop, she was on the nearest powerline.

And Andy was stunned.

"What the hell?!"

"Woo! This is it, Andy. This is the power of tacos!" Mae shouted, finding her footing on the wire with the extra weight of the baseballs over her shoulder.

"You still do that?" Andy asked, remembering tales of Killer and her want to scale the greatest heights of Possum Springs.

Mae was stunned by the question. "Why stop?"

"How have you not broken every bone in your body?"

"Magic. Skill. Power. Watch this!"

Mae began to bounce from point to point in the wire, getting higher and higher with every jump as Andy's beak grew wider and wider.

"You're crazy!" Andy shouted up, not quite sure what his tone was, so stunned was he.

"Dr. Blake says not to use that word," Mae joked, sticking out her tongue.

"Good crazy, then!" Andy joked.

Yeah. Good crazy. There ya go.

Andy smiled.

Mae asked, "Hey, you live that way, right?" pointing in a seemingly random direction, although it was roughly toward where Andy lived in his one story home with his mom.

"Uh… yeah?" Andy answered, unsure of what was to come next.

"Race ya home!"

Mae took off in that direction, running like she was about to take off into the sky.

Andy gasped, but chased after her. He wasn't quite sure if Mae knew where she was going.

"You… beat me," Mae muttered, out of breath as she made her way back down the wires and onto the hard ground just in front of Andy's house. The sky was the color of Mae's jacket.. A light was on in Andy's living room.

Andy shook his head and smiled. He handed Mae back her bat and stretched his aching muscles."Long legs… help," he sputtered. He was nearly a foot Ther than Mae, after all.

"That was awesome," Mae added.

"Damn," Andy coughed, "I gotta spend less time on the computer."

For the first time, Andy felt every bit his extra weight.

So did Mae.

"Same, but that's, like, the only way to find work anymore," she said.

Andy blinked, "You're looking for a job?"

Mae shrugged. "I'm trying. Been a month. No one's hiring. Not even part-time."

Andy shook his head, "That sucks. This town sucks."

"Nah. Capitalism sucks, but you already knew that."

"Yeah…"

"Anyway, I gotta get home for dinner."

"You just ate."

"Two tacos? That was nothing. See ya!"

Andy stared up as he watched Mae leave with her hefty sporting goods. After all these years of waiting, wondering, the two had actually… hung out for a little bit. It was quick. Most of it was spent eating, but it wasn't bad, right? No, it wasn't. There were slip ups, things were said and done that would soon be regretted in the dark of the night, but it wasn't a failure. It just was.

And so, Andy surprised himself when he shouted out, "Hey, hold on!"

"Whoa, what?!" Mae's eyes were wide as she turned and shouted back at Andy.

"You said you have a computer! Do you use chattrBox?"

"…Yeah?!"

"Add me!"

Rather than keep shouting, Andy walked back over to Mae and gave her his chattrBox info. Mae wrote it down in her journal. He took notice of the little doodle of himself Mae drew next to his details. Just a bird. With half a beak. Surgical screws in the middle.

Mae walked home. Andy watched for a moment or two, but then made his way back home. When his mom asked him how his time with Mae was, he shrugged. She nodded her head. He went into his room and did some drawing until he was ready to go to bed.

"I'm proud of you!" Candy told Mae and she set her bat and balls down against the kitchen table.

"Thanks, mom." Mae smiled as she looked over at what her mom was making. Pork chops tonight.

"It sounds like you took charge of the situation. That's a great thing," Candy added as she emptied a can of corn into a little pot on the backburner of the stove.

"I think I'm getting better," Mae said, only realizing how earnest that sounded when she saw her mom's small smile.

"I know you are! Make sure you tell your dad about your day when he gets home from work. He'll be so happy."

Mae blushed. "Okay."

The Borowski dinner that night was indeed in praise of Mae's growth. In a matter of two months, Mae had started seeing a decent therapist, looking for a job, setting healthy boundaries with her friends, and one day last week, she even woke up before noon. 11:45, actually, but still! Progress!

Sure, she still had nightmares about that evening in the mines. The thought of meeting an end in the pit. Seeing her friends meet a similar fate. She dreamt of smaller fears too. The thought of Gregg and Angus finally heading off to Bright Harbor, the thought of Bea finally losing the will to get out of bed and spend another day alone at the Ol' Pickaxe, the thought of one financial setback forcing her parents out of the only home she ever knew.

The thought that all these good things she was doing would, with one false step, go crumbling around her. The shapes would come back in full force. Reality would collapse. She'd break again, and hurt someone. Or worse…

Mae decided it was time to message Bea on chattrBox.

sup?

Literally just got home. Literally.

oh…

No, it's cool. Just tired. How's job hunting?

same. actually did send a resume before seeing andy again. wish me luck?

Luck all around. How's the bird doing? Still kinda weird around you?

beabea we're both weird together. but like it was easier this time?

Makes sense. Can't be that awkward forever.

he wants me to add him on chattr?

Oh. Okay?

yeah I dunno either

It sounds like a good thing?

yeah?

Maybe?

yep.

I gotta get food and sleep, in that order. Chat tomorrow, yea?

ye.

Mae sighed. It was hard to get a hold of Bea lately. She was focusing on her work so she could put enough away for their road trip. They decided that as soon as winter was good and gone, they'd head out. And seeing as Mae was still looking for a steady source of income…

Still, as long as the trip happened, all that time spent without Bea would be worth it.

Hopefully.

A notification popped up on Mae's laptop. Looked like Andy accepted her friend request.

Mae sent Andy her favorite Sharkle sticker, but he didn't reply.

"Okay," Mae mumbled, half-eyed as she did her best to ignore the late hour.

Mae spent a couple more hours watching unimportant videos and putting off brushing her teeth. Dr. Blake said healthy habits were important, but she eventually fell asleep watching someone make licorice with popping candy.

Two weeks later, it started with another message. In that time, Mae and Andy had only occasionally chatted about nothing in particular. Mae was still job hunting, seeing Dr. Blake twice a week, catching up with Bea, and spending time with Gregg after he finished work, sometimes with Angus, other times not. The night before, Angus tried and failed to get Gregg and Mae into a board game. It was almost not a remarkably dull disaster.

Andy was working, watching movies, and going for walks. He'd taken a break from submitting his illustrations toward galleries. He said he was on an inspiration hunt.

This was why he invited Mae to show him a part of Possum Springs he'd never seen before. Somewhere outside, somewhere clean, somewhere beautiful. These were the three major requirements.

Mae had an idea immediately.

"My mom takes me here sometimes. We see who falls in a hole first."

Jenny's Field was wide and gray under the cloudy winter sky. Much of the tall grass was flattened by previous snows, making the occasional sinkhole all the more obvious to anyone trekking through.

Possum Springs was warmer still than Mae and Andy's last meeting. Whispers of springtime were on in the wind, but everyone living there knew better than to trust spring's first promise.

"There's a reason I never went out here, you know," Andy murmured, his head low as he eyed the ground for any holes he could fall into. "Someone died out here, right?"

Mae shrugged. "That was forever ago. Now it's just soggy."

Indeed, the field was still plenty wet from groundwater. Mae and Andy's shoes fought with all their might not to stay stuck in the muck with every footfall. Still, the place was outside and relatively untouched, if not reclaimed by nature, since the mines were emptied so long ago. Andy supposed that was some form of beauty.

Maybe that was the best thing. Someday Possum Springs would be abandoned completely. Instead of an extra length of highway getting built, every building, every sign, every bit of evidence that people chose to live in this place would fall into the earth, and something truly beautiful would take its place.

Andy stumbled on the second-smallest pitfall in Jenny's Field. He slipped on the wet ground, his body twisted as he tried to maintain his footing, and he landed on his side. Mud caked on his hoodie and jeans, and a bit of his beak as well.

Mae laughed, holding her belly as Andy slowly worked his way back up. Eventually, at some point during the struggle, Mae offered a hand to get Andy up the rest of the way. He used his hood to remove the gunk from his face.

"I guess I win," Mae said with a sly smirk.

"Urgh," said Andy. "Blugh."

"So are you inspired now?" Mae asked, hopping up onto an abandoned washing machine from the 80's that had been slowly sinking into the field for decades.

Andy sighed. "No, just tired." He walked next to the washing machine, resting his arm against it. The fall had tensed his muscles, and he was feeling every bit of pain he usually felt, plus an extra ouch or two.

The two of them stood and sat there for a few minutes, the late afternoon rolling away.

Mae broke the silence. "I'm taking pills now."

Andy blinked. "Medication? Like, mental health meds?"

"Yeah."

"You feeling any different?"

"No, but it's just been a few days. Dr. Blake said it might take a week or two to notice anything."

"Cool, cool."

Mae smoothed her shirt and kicked some mud off her shoes against the side of the washing machine. She heard Andy speaking, near a whisper.

"Why'd you tell me that?"

Mae turned to see Andy with his hood over his head. Just poking out was the prosthetic half of his beak. She observed how it somehow always stayed the cleanest shade hospital white.

She scratched her head. "I'm trying to be better. I thought you'd wanna know that."

Andy sighed as he stared down at the ground. He watched as water filled the space of his footsteps. "I'm sorry."

Amber eyes were wide. "You're… what?"

"I ruined your life," Andy said simply. This was a fact.

"No, I ruined yours!" Fact for fact.

They stared at each other for at least twelve hours. Or maybe a couple minutes. One or the other. Mae's jaw dropped, her breathing slow as she processed what was happening. Andy hid his face under his hood.

Andy spoke quickly, never once stopping for breath. "My stupid family sued your family out of all their money and I made fun of you for years and I actually thought you were some kind of monster. And I know that's cruel and ignorant now, but every time I talk to you, I'm just trying to think of the best way to explain why I screwed you over so hard, but I can't. There's no good reason. I messed up. My family messed up. Everyone and everything is completely and utterly messed up and I can't make it any better!"

Mae just kept staring.

"Do you hear me, Mae?! You're the one who actually wanted us to meet again. I was gonna spend the rest of my life thinking I was right to do what I did. Like I thought I could move on an— and pretend I…"

Andy stopped. He lowered his hood and rested his face in his hands. He turned his back to Mae.

"I'm a freak, Mae, but I deserve it. You're actually trying to make yourself better. I'm just… here. Doing nothing with my life."

Mae jumped off the washing machine. She stomped over to stare up at the tall, brooding bird. She didn't care as one of her shoes undid itself and sat crooked and alone in the grass.

She wasn't sure why she was angry, but her gritting teeth and clenched fists were there for Andy to see.

"Are you kidding me, man?! I'm trying to make myself better because I screwed up big time for years. It's my fault my parents don't have any money and it's my fault I'm seeing a therapist in the first place. I'm messed up and you're where you are because of me. Are you seriously blaming yourself for this?"

Andy showed his face. He looked down at Mae to see the anger in her eyes. Those memories lingered, but that was not all he could see. Fear. Regret. Guilt. He shook as he watched Mae catch her breath. They both stood there, and they slowly found themselves losing the anxiety that had built up between them. In a few moments, they were still.

And they hugged. Not close. Just a bit of contact, and it was done.

Through tears, Andy said, "You can't be mad at yourself for seeing a therapist."

Mae shook her head. "I dunno. Maybe. And look, you're really good at a lot of things. Awesome things. You're definitely not just… here."

"It's not just being good at things. It's being happy. You're. I'm…"

"I dunno. It's weird. It's weird and dumb."

"Yeah."

There was so much left unsaid, but as Mae slipped her shoe back on and Andy stretched his arm, they decided not to. Instead, they kept walking, working their way back to Possum Springs proper.

"It's a pretty field," said Andy.

Mae said, "It's better when it's warmer out, I guess."

She took a shower when she got home. She put back on the same clothes when she was done.

Andy's mother wasn't home from work yet, so he went ahead and tried to get some drawing in. He was stuck.

A week ago, he finished his latest bit of freelancing. A commission. Someone wanted him to draw a pond. One surrounded by cattails and teeming with aquatic life from fish to frogs. Then swimmers, fishermen. A little dock for kayaks, canoes, and rowboats. All this within a field of nature's oldest trees. So he did.

It was worth $120.00.

Mae warmed up a microwaveable pizza and watched a playlist of choice Garbo and Malloy clips on her laptop. In one of them, Garbo said if he quit late night, he'd become a longshoreman. Malloy said with the quality of his jokes, he was more like a longsnoreman. The crowd giggled. Mae was already asleep. It was six in the evening.

didnt hear from you last night u kewl?

was tired

gurl i bet you woke up at liek 2 in the afternoon no way you were tired

tiiiiiiired

u sure ure k? Angus sed sometims pills can mak u feel worse…

I'm fine.

k 4 kewl. C u tonite?

Ye.

Yeaaaaahhhhh no board gaem tonite so dont worry

Good

gonna make Angus play one of our games….

Nice.

NICE

NICE!

Mae closed her chat with Gregg and fixed up her bedhead. She looked over at the clock. 11:30. New record.

For the second night in a row, she didn't remember what she dreamed about.

Her room was dim. She kept her curtains closed as she stared at the little screen. In spite of her best efforts to have her mind tell her laptop to do something entertaining, nothing happened. Then she looked over at her bass. She hadn't played it for a bit. Maybe she could…

Nah.

She yawned and stretched and scratched her sides. She put her shirt back into place. It had slid up her belly in her sleep. She sat up on her bed and stayed there for half an hour.

Then she went downstairs. Her parents weren't home. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and thought about what Andy had said yesterday.

Damn it, Andy.

She rested her head in her hand and balanced the spoon along both ends of the bowl. She couldn't see her reflection in the milk, but she did see her shadow.

Why shouldn't she be mad at herself?! That was the point, right? She fucked up and this was her punishment. Get better. Do better. Make it not broken. It was that simple.

So why'd Andy go and throw a curveball like that?

What'd Andy know?

They coulda thrown her in that pit. The cult. They could have. At least one of them wanted to. Maybe. She had to get better. For the…

But her friends weren't like her. It's not that they didn't understand. They just didn't know.

Dr. Blake didn't know. He just talked. And sat there. Just another being in an endless void.

Mom and dad didn't know.

They tried.

And tried and tried.

And there was the wind whistling an old song by the husk of a long dead animal.

Under the surface.

This is the game.

Shapes.

Nothing survives.

All in the pit we go.

The milk spilled onto Mae's lap, but she was already on the floor. She curled up and closed her eyes tight and watched herself hit Andy again. She watched herself beat Andy at least twenty times. She could not get used to it. There was no rhythm to her swing. Just get it out. Get the energy out. Kill it so it doesn't suffer anymore. Watch it break away. Maybe that will save you.

The crowd goes wild.

Andy had stayed up late the night before. He woke up on the cusp of noontime, but that was alright. It's not like he had anything to do.

He took a shower, picked out a casual at-home outfit of blue sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, drank two cups of coffee as he read the news, and caught up on a podcast as he tended to social media. His commissions were closed, his freelance work was at a standstill, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to draw anything for himself at the moment.

This was okay. After all, who says you need to be creative every minute of every day? To maximize output? That sort of attitude was soul-destroying.

Still, he felt guilty.

What Mae said still lingered in his mind. All of it. Worst of all, he doubted she realized that. Had they really had an argument over who was the worse person?

And what about that hug? Who even initiated it? It just kind of happened. He couldn't even remember the last time he had hugged his own mom.

This was why he kept to himself, he thought. Conflicts, complications, why fight such a pointless fight? Sometimes you're better off without someone else kicking off your anxiety.

He decided his afternoon would be best spent watching a movie. He picked out an indie comedy about a young dog's trials and tribulations working at their local multiplex theater. There were several set pieces that paid homage to classic films. It wasn't very funny, but you could tell there was a personal touch put toward the script and direction.

Andy didn't pay attention to a bit of it.

Instead, he was looking at chattrBox, trying to think of the right thing to tell Mae. There had to be something he could say to put yesterday's awkwardness behind them, but what? A joke? A story? An apology? They had apologized so many times already.

Is that all this was? Just an excuse for them to get all the apologies out of their system? Would they eventually run out of things to apologize for and never speak to each other again? He thought about that. He actually considered the possibility.

Then he relented.

Hey, Mae. Thanks for the quick trip yesterday. The visit to the field and me falling from the hole, I mean. I've got some ideas going now. The river's flowing. Let's hang out again sometime.

He hit send before he could think too hard about the message. He had lied. He had no ideas. No creative ones, anyway. Earlier he had seen a post from some social media presence he had never heard of before asking for t-shirt design ideas. He didn't care enough to bite.

All he wanted to do was keep not watching movies.

Eventually his mom got home from work.

Claudette Cullen, Claudie for short, was a bird of five and a half feet. Andy got his plumage from her. She kept a trim figure and wore clothes that were slightly out of her price range. Pantsuits a plenty. She worked as an administrative assistant at a construction company. For her, every day was another unfinished chapter in a never ending story about the touch and the smell of everyone else's hot garbage.

She opened her son's door without knocking.

Andy blinked himself back into existence as he saw his mom's bemused expression.

Holding the door open, she said, "You're home?"

Andy wasn't quite sure what his mom was talking about. He looked around his room for something.

"You've been out for walks about this time for a few days now," his mom elaborated. "Just surprised, I guess."

Andy swiveled in his office chair to fully face his mom.

"Just taking it easy today," he said.

Claudie stepped into her son's room. She stood there and searched for what Andy was looking at. She found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Not too easy, I hope," she said, stern.

"Nope. Keeping my eyes open. Always more projects."

"Good, good."

Andy sighed as he waited for his mom to leave him be.

"You're safe, right?"

The question caught Andy off guard. He paused the music he was listening to. Ambient noise.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Claudie crossed her arms. "You were with her again yesterday, right? I didn't hear a peep from you last night. We both know full well what that Borowski girl is capable of."

He gasped. "This isn't about… don't call her 'Borowski girl'. Her name is Mae and she's alright."

"Sweety, you are an adult who can make your own decisions. If you want to hang out with the Borowski girl, by all means. I just want to make sure you understand the risks associated with doing that."

Claudie stared at her son's beak. Andy felt a pain in his shoulder.

"Yeah," said Andy. "Yeah, I got them pretty well figured out."

"Good. Have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not very hungry."

"I'm going to make some dinner. I'm sure you'll be hungry when it's ready."

"Okay, mom."

Andy closed the door behind his mom. He picked up his phone from his desk. The screen had gone dark just as his mom came in. He turned it back on and stared down at it. He had a drawing app he used to sketch out his ideas. He smiled at the latest one.

There stood a tiny cat with a notched ear, hands on her hips, looking out at him.

With sharp teeth showing, the cat said in her speech bubble, "You're awesome, you idiot!"

Andy gave the cat an old washing machine to stand by.

"Let's get you something to eat, sweety."

That was the first thing Mae heard when she came back into herself. She was lying down on the couch. An afternoon talk show played in the background. The host was excited to give a big family everything they ever wanted.

Mae went to sit up, but she was in too much pain to do so, and the remote was too far away to change the channel.

"Hello?" Mae asked, looking around her living room. She wasn't sure why that was the first thing she asked. It just kind of came out of her.

She heard soft steps coming from the kitchen until Candy Borowski poked her head over the back of the couch. A soft smile was on her face, betrayed by her red, puffy eyes.

She breathed a soft sigh that made Mae's ears twitch.

"Everything's okay, sweety," Mae's mom said. "You were having… you weren't well."

Mae blinked. "What?"

Candy sat down on the couch and rested and reached out to hold Mae's hand. Mae let her.

She told Mae the story.

"I found you in the kitchen. I'm sorry, I don't know how long you were there. I thought you were… I tried to wake you up, and you did, but then you just kept saying all these horrible things."

Mae's eyes grew wide. Did she mention the—?

"What kind of things?"

Candy squeezed Mae's hand. "You said all these terrible things about yourself. I tried to get you to stop, but you were so angry with yourself. You threw a bowl against the wall."

Oh.

"Did I break it?"

"Yes, dear, but that's okay. We have plenty more, and the mess was easy to clean up. Speaking of which, you might want to change your clothes. I can smell the milk."

The rotting smell finally caught up to Mae. She sneered.

"Sorry."

Candy squeezed her only child's hand again. She breathed sharply through her nose. Mae could only stare as her mother worked to contain herself.

"Don't be sorry. I called Doctor Blake's office. We won't be able to drive you there tomorrow, but there was an opening and I scheduled a phone call with him for four in the afternoon. Your father doesn't know about this yet, but I can tell him if that's easier."

Mae blinked. "Tell him what?"

"You said you wanted to jump into a hole."

Mae flinched. She let go of her mom's hand and held herself close.

"I didn't mean it."

Or did she? She lost herself today, and she couldn't remember so much of it. Her mom must be so—

"Dr. Blake talked to me, sweety. For a little bit. He had just a few minutes, but he made it very clear that sometimes you can… he says there's something called derealization. That's such a scary word. He asked me to read up about it, that'd help me better understand what you were going through, and that he'd send you home with some information when you saw him again. You were asleep again when I hung up, so I borrowed your laptop. And I read. For hours. I told the pastor I couldn't make it back to work. She understood."

Mae listened as her mom told her about what she did and what she learned. When Dr. Blake asked Mae if she was okay with him sharing any important information with her parents, she just sort of nodded and kept talking about her week. She didn't think it'd come to this. She let go of herself, and kept listening to her mom, and eventually she sat back up on the couch. Candy left for a few minutes and Mae changed the channel to some crappy crime drama. Her mom came back with a grilled cheese sandwich.

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry you have to put up with such a cruel mind. It's not fair, but we're here to help you. Okay? If you're not feeling well, just talk. We may not always be around, but we always want to listen. And please, don't forget your friends."

Mae ate her sandwich as her mom talked. What could she say?

"And I'm sorry, but I did see a message pop up from Gregg. I said that you might not be able to make it tonight. He said he might come by later, if you're okay with that. I said you'd let him know either way."

"You looked at my stuff?"

"No, no, no! I just replied to Gregg's message. I didn't look at your conversations, or anything, I promise. I didn't want your friends to worry."

Friends?

"…Friends?"

Candy caught herself.

"Oh, um, there was also a message from Andrew. I told him how I'm glad you two have been able to talk to each other."

"You went through my stuff."

"Cullen matters are complicated. I'm just glad Claudette's son is—"

"So what's Mae having? Pre-dinner dinner? Can I have some?"

Stan Borowski was home. He hung his jacket on the coat rack and stood over his wife and daughter. He looked between the two. It didn't take long for him to read the room.

"What happened?"

Candy said he would tell Stan what happened while Mae put on some fresh clothes. When Mae went back downstairs, her father pulled her into a hug so tight, almost painful, but secure.

"You're still good, kitten," he said.

The Borowskis ordered Chinese that night.

After Mae gorged herself on a steady supply of sesame chicken, she sent Gregg a message on everything she could remember about her day. Gregg teased her regarding Candy's message, but sent Mae internet hugs all the same.

Andy took a long time to consider the message he received.

Your very kind, Andrew. This is Mae's mom but you can call me Candy. Listen I know you've been through a lot with us. I wouldn't even know how to begin to say everything I wish I could tell you. Instead I'll just say how happy my husband Stan and I are that you and Mae are spending time together. They say time heals all wounds but I've never been too sure about that. It's good to be proven wrong at least once. Be well and kindly don't tell your mother I spoke to you or chattrBoxed or whatever.

Damn it, the Borowskis were nice. Why were they all so nice? If he'd known how outright wonderful they were before, maybe he'd have talked to them sooner.

No, this was ridiculous. What could he say? What did she even want to say?! If it was anything like what Mae had told him, he wasn't sure he could take it.

He knew what it was like. After the incident, his parents were always talking about the Borowskis. The ongoing lawsuit, the medical bills, the frustration over every single conversation and correspondence. It never really stopped, it just got less frequent. Even now Claudie made passing jokes about the Borowskis, poor fools they were. It was a part of the Cullen tradition. One of the last things his dad told him before he disappeared was how much trouble the cats caused him. Pests. He called them a bunch of pests.

Did he believe it? He wasn't sure, but he never wanted to think too much about it.

Now it was the only thing on his mind.

It was half past six, definitely not too late for a Friday. Might as well try.

He didn't expect to get a reply so quickly.

So your mom's pretty cool.

I'm surprised you don't have a password on your laptop.

don't even start

I'm already done. We're cool with yesterday, right?

Mae gasped. That was it! That was what got her. That's why her day was so… eventful. She looked down on herself wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with the faded image of some old movie monster on it. She couldn't remember the last time she wore actual PJs to bed. Today was weird. Everything was getting really weird.

i don't know

Oh, okay.

no, i mean, im still thinking about it, i guess

Oh. Okay?

my brains are a big dumb mess and im trying to get better but sometimes i still screw up and i guess youre trying to be cool but maybe if we keep hanging out we stop talking about our feelings as much because im not sure what i can handle right now

Yeah, I get that. I was wondering the same thing. I wanna try this thing where we're friends and we don't argue over who's worse.

that sounds kewl

You wanna watch a movie with me?

i dont think i wanna go anywhere tonight

No, I mean, let me share my screen. I can totally legally show you a movie. Do you have a mic?

uh, no?

That's alright. Text words it is.

what kinda movie we gonna watch?

INDIE HORROR

whoa.

THE TIME HAS COME

YOU HAVE BECOME THE HYPE

BEHOLD FOR I AM THE HYPE AND THIS IS MY TRUE POWER

Andy called Mae and they spent a little time working out the kinks of their set up. Mae's terrible internet meant the movie was mostly pixels, but it was still fun watching a witch slowly dismantle her local government from within. Andy even shared some fun facts he learned about the film's lengthy, troubled production. Crowdfunded horror at its finest.

By the time the movie was over, the night was still young, and the mood was mighty high.

so i get to pick the next movie right?

It's only fair.

you wanna watch one RIGHT NOW?

Yeah!

YEAH ok you probably dont have this ready but can you use your super legal thing to get it right?

So legal, it's almost illegal.

get legal with me and look up JUMPING SPIDERS FROM SATURN that last movie was too good we need trash now

I could go for some hot garbage.

good cuz this is like a landfill volcano

The spiders were mostly hung from strings or people wearing fuzzy, spiky costumes. There were at least three boom mic shadows and two botched takes in the runtime. It was awesome.

I'm gonna be real, Mae. I don't know which movie was better.

witch eats the rich tho

Yummy capitalist stew!

you got good taste

The stew or the movie?

yeah.

Let's do this a lot, alright? Goodnight.

plz. gn.

And so they did. For three nights over the next week, they watched movies together.

Mae's call with Dr. Blake was reassuring. He reminded her that her dissociative episodes were not setbacks. They were an aspect of herself that shouldn't be loathed, but understood. Mae had a disease that could be treated with time. He expressed his gratitude that Mae had family and friends that supported her, and stated that it would be wise for Mae to bring herself the same love those close to her provided.

Mae said she had no idea what the brain doc was talking about.

Andy started drawing again in earnest. He found a fondness for recreating the settings of the films he and Mae enjoyed. Adding a drooling spider to the realm of a spooky cardboard forest, complete with a boom mic's shadow cast over the moon, was truly a treasure to behold. Mae certainly got a laugh when she saw it. She replied by sending Andy a sketch of him cross-eyed and covered in mud.

Andy replied by asking Mae if he wanted to visit his place sometime.

"So you're just hanging now? No weird apology times?" Gregg asked Mae as he balanced a Snack Falcon cup on his foxy nose.

From the other side of the convenience store counter, Mae put a potato chip on the cup and answered the question as best as she could.

"I guess? It's weird, though."

The cup fell on the floor. Gregg scowled, but immediately brought his attention back to the conversation. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead.

"What kinda weird?"

"I dunno. It's just…" Mae stopped. She looked around the store. Of course no one was there but them, but she still felt wary saying what she was about to say. You never knew who could be hiding among the cookies.

"Lately I'm actually kinda happy?"

Gregg's jaw dropped. Then he started chuckling. And then he started laughing.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Gregg asked between laughs.

Mae's mouth twisted in frustration. "I'm trying to be serious here!"

Gregg stopped himself, but still smiled a sly kinda smile.

"What's so weird about being in a good mood, Mae?"

"You don't get it. It's like, nothing really bad is on my mind? Yeah, stuff still sucks. A lot of things suck. I still can't find a job. Bea's, like, nowhere. But it's okay. Things are just okay, and I'm okay with that."

Gregg pondered those words. For a moment, maybe even more than one, he considered what Mae had said and what exactly she was getting at.

He jumped up on the counter and pointed down at Mae.

In as booming a voice as he could muster, Gregg said, "I, The Greatest Gregg, declare you, Mae Borowski, to officially be doing alright."

Mae blinked as Gregg kept pointing at her. She batted the finger away.

"Just alright?" she deadpanned.

"Yeah, I dunno. You're cool. Maybe not good, cuz that shit's hard to get to, but you're close."

"Huh."

"Yep."

"Hm…"

"That's right."

Mae thought, hand on her chin.

"Will you go with me to Andy's house then?"

Gregg slipped getting off the counter, but landed well enough.

"Can I bring Angus?"

"Probably."

"You should check with Andy and see if that's cool with him."

"Should I?" Mae asked.

"No clue," Gregg answered, "But it sounds like something Angus would say, so let's go with that."

Andy told Mae he wouldn't mind if she brought some friends with her.

It would probably be fine.

Be quiet. Stay present.

Only answer questions, show a movie, and bring some snacks. Easy enough.

Right now he was sitting on his bed, staring at a wall, and waiting for the knock on the door. This evening his mom was off at a group she never really told him about, with people she didn't really like. He had planned this occasion to fit around her schedule.

She didn't need to know.

The knock came. Andy blinked and shook his head and pulled himself back together into some form of presentable being. He got up from his bed, scratched his beak, and did his best.

When Andy silently opened the door, this left Mae, Gregg, and Angus to take in the sights and sounds of the Cullen abode. To say the place was clean was an understatement. The hardwood floors looked like they were stained only yesterday. The green and white rug was without a hint of dirt. The expensive-looking recreation prints of various works of art were familiar, but nameless to the trio. The walls and ceilings were an incredible shade of white. Not quite beige, just within the realm of being tasteful. The space was lit by the dimmest shade of yellow. The hint of a candle snuffed long ago still held in the air. This was just the initial hallway. This was either some middle class person's rogue attempt at showing off, or some kind of pool hall that served high quality aged whiskey. Those were the only two options.

Angus adjusted his glasses.

"Is this what they call a vibe?" he whispered to Gregg.

Gregg just kept staring, trying to ignore the feeling that a trap door was about to open below him.

It was Mae who brought everyone back into the moment.

"So! Uh… yeah. Guys, this is Andy. Andy, this is Gregg and Angus."

"H—" Andy coughed. "Hey."

Angus waved.

The four of them were packed tight in the hallway as they each waited for someone to please say something or do anything, please. Gregg considered stomping his foot just to break the silence, but the touch of Angus's hand on his shoulder reminded him that it would not be a good idea.

Mae clapped her hands.

"So let's do some stuff!" she said, a little too loud.

After getting over the shock, Andy led Mae and her friends to his living room. There was a smaller-than-usual sort of flat screen television fit into the largest part of an entertainment system in the same shade of wood as the floor. Various abstract artsy tchotchkes littered the space between the television and the off-white couch and nearby recliner. In the background, closed off-white curtains kept the room dark.

In front of the television was a HeartBeat 3, a gaming console that was recently replaced by the HeartBeat 4, which was pretty much impossible to obtain through unmagical means. In front of the console was a stack of DVDs.

"That's the movie machine," Andy clarified. "I'm not big into video games."

Everyone took a moment to figure out where they were going to sit. Gregg and Angus sat on the couch while Mae stole a green throw pillow with white tassels and sat on the floor. Andy, with the stack of DVDs, sat on the other side of the couch, giving Gregg and Angus some distance. He spread out the stack on the middle of the couch and picked up the controller for the console from off the floor.

Andy gripped his shaking hands along the controller and said, "I have way too many movies, so just let me know if a title sounds extra good."

Mae squeezed her pillow. "What about snacks? You'd said there'd be snacks!"

Andy coughed again, his voice wavered as he spoke. "Oh, I was just gonna let something play and go get some stuff."

Mae kept going. "No way, you gotta watch with us! That's how watch parties work."

"Oh…" Andy said, then sat there silently for a little while.

Gregg looked up at Angus, who was looking over at Andy. Angus never considered himself much in the way of some great, powerful empath, but the way Andy sat there like any one small false move would set off an alarm reminded him of someone.

"Andy's the host," Angus said slowly, "Let him lead the way as he pleases."

Gregg listened and nodded. Addressing Andy, he said, "Yeah! Don't mind, Mae, dude. She's just, uh…"

"Excitable," Angus finished.

"Yeah, that!" Gregg said, slyly squeezing his partner's hand. He picked up a DVD case with a black background and the faint image of a screaming teenager looking upward under faded gray text. ""Darkest Feast" sounds like good stuff. Pop in that and get the snackums!"

"Okay," Andy said in a small voice, inserting the DVD, hitting play on his controller, and rushing off toward the kitchen.

After they were sure he was out of sight and earshot, Gregg and Angus shared the sort of knowing look that only partners of the highest caliber could muster.

"Whoa…" Gregg whispered, eyes wide.

"Mae?" Angus whispered as well, looking down at the cat.

Mae bent her head back and cocked an eye as the opening credits rolled and the royalty free classical music played.

"Sup?" she asked, her voice louder than her friends'.

"We're whispering now, dude." Gregg pointed downward to illustrate the point.

Mae turned around and tilted her head. "Why?"

Gregg and Angus shared the look again.

Gregg nodded his head toward where Andy went. "Dude's about to have a heart attack."

"He's incredibly anxious," Angus clarified.

Mae shrugged. "He's awkward."

Not wanting to belabor the point, Gregg and Angus joined Mae in watching the film. It was shot in black and white, with only certain weapons and celestial bodies appearing in color. Clearly some form of symbolism was present. The start of the film involved a teenage dalmatian running in the dark woods, gasping for breath as he tried desperately to outrun some unseen force.

The dalmatian whispered.

Gotta get out.

He could only keep running.

Get away. Stay away…

"This is kinda on the nose," Gregg said, quite loudly, recent events coming back into focus.

Angus pinched Gregg on the arm.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Andy wasn't back with any snacks. Mae didn't even smell popcorn.

"I'm gonna go…" Mae looked up at her friends, who gave her the look they had given each other. "I'll check on him," she finished.

Mae got up, argued with herself over whether to take the nice, soft throw pillow with her, and put it down before she headed off in the direction where she last saw Andy. After stepping into the dim hallway, Mae followed a light and came to meet the Cullens' kitchen. It was a mixture of heaven and the 80's, the way the black and white tiles contrasted with the white cupboards and drawers, and chairs and table, and appliances galore. Pure white, so bright.

Andy was sitting hunched on one of the chairs, head in his hands, the prosthetic half of his beak showing through. A bag of unopened pretzels sat between his feet.

Mae stood in the doorway and stared at Andy at the other side.

She managed to say, "Uh."

Andy looked out at Mae. He put his hands in his lap and sat farther back in the chair. It scraped against the tiles.

"Hey," he whispered.

Mae's ear twitched at the sound of a scream coming from the living room. The movie was picking up.

Mae took a step forward. "You're not okay, huh?"

"No."

Mae stopped. "Sorry."

Andy got up and put his hands in pockets. He stood, back bent forward. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd be okay, but nope. I can't really do groups too well, Mae."

Mae's eyes sparkled in the light. "But they're good people," she said in a small voice.

"I believe you. I tried to focus on the fun, but it doesn't always work."

"Hanging out with people?"

"Yeah."

Mae took some more steps. She was close to Andy now. She wanted to see his eyes. She had to see what they were doing.

Andy's eyes were dark, small. Smaller than anyone's in the whole world. They captured the light, but it was dim. Cold. Tired. Mae watched Andy and he stared back at her. Time held itself down as Mae thought about something. She thought about how strange it was that Andy was so open to spending time with her. She thought about how often they did stuff together. Watched movies, chatted during the dull moments of the day, sent silly drawings back and forth.

Mae solved the puzzle and opened the box.

She blinked, and lost the staring contest. She whispered, "Do you not… have friends?"

Andy sighed, started shaking again. His hands, mostly, but his whole body wavered. "What do you think, Mae?"

"I think you're really cool. You gotta have friends. Everybody does."

"You really think anyone wants to be friends with me?"

"We're friends. Right?"

Andy coughed again. "Haven't you gotten what you wanted?"

Mae stepped back now. Andy was quivering, crying, one hand holding down the other arm.

Mae's eyes grew wide. She saw the full picture. There was no beauty in it.

"You got your apology," Andy shuddered. "You can cut out the guilt. You can throw it away."

The words grew louder. Time moved forward again.

"I should have known it wouldn't be this easy, Mae. I thought that if I talked to you once or twice, I'd be free from myself. I wouldn't be hurt anymore, I wouldn't need to focus on anything other than what was right in front of me. But you can't do that! Nothing ever changes, Mae. It just keeps getting worse."

Andy quickly took his phone out of his pocket and found a photo he kept in a special unnamed folder. He gave his phone to Mae as he sat back down.

Mae's eyes were wider still. It was only once the tears had tickled her cheeks that she realized she was crying too.

It was a photo of Andy on the phone. In a hospital bed. Bruised from his face to his waist, stitched up, blood dried on his feathers. An eye swollen shut. A shoulder battered and broken. A beak shattered, jagged where it cracked in half.

"Here I am, Mae."

Andy coughed from the bitterness of his tone, the snake venom sneer that pulled at his eyes.

"Yeah…" Mae whispered, looking up from the phone and handing it back to Andy.

That was it? Here he was, a freak with half a beak, and all she could do was stare. No shock, no disgust, no feeling at all that he could see. Just the same amber eyes glowing in the fluorescent light. Those eyes looked at his remains.

She just kept staring.

Andy sighed, putting his phone away.

Yet the silence returned and, with a tilt of her head, Mae approached Andy once more, her lack of stature becoming even more apparent. Even when he was sitting down, she was still smaller than him.

She pulled him into a tight hug.

Andy couldn't help but shake, not expecting the touch, and yet, he did not tell her to let go.

Eventually, he reciprocated.

"That really, really sucks," mumbled Mae, letting go of the hug and dusting herself off as she left Andy back in his personal space.

Andy brushed his fingertips along his beak, his eyes shut tight. No consolation. It's not that easy. He didn't want to see her anymore. No one else.

"Have this."

Andy heard something hit the surface of the kitchen table. He craned his neck, his shoulder aching as he turned to see a rock, dark as his eyes, and so smooth.

"Dr. Blake has a whole drawer full of them," she said.

"Rocks."

"Yeah. He asked me to pick one. Says it could ground me. I don't really get it, but it's cool to have one. It's like a lucky charm or something. I'll get another one next time."

Andy touched the surface of the rock, dark as any part of him. It went back and forth between his hands. In that moment, he swore he could see himself in it. In that moment, Andy gripped the rock tight. He had stopped shaking.

They weren't crying anymore, so Mae asked Andy if he had any popcorn. He got up, put the rock in his hoodie pocket, and opened a couple cupboards before finding a bag only a little past the expiration date.

They microwaved it, picked out some drinks, and went back to the living room and to Gregg and Angus with pretzels, popcorn, and assorted beverages.

They all watched the movie together. Mae sat on the couch now, between Gregg and Andy. She asked Andy questions about the movie and he answered them, adding his own trivia along the way.

From the other side of the couch, Angus watched Andy closely. Whatever he saw in him before, it was gone for now.

When Claudie came home that night, after everyone left, she asked Andy if he drank one of her wine coolers. He reminded his mom that he didn't even drink.

beabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabeabea

OMG

Bea.

Yes. That is me.

youre alive~

I hope so.

goooooood. its been a bit

It's been. A whole week.

at least! actual spring is actually almost here actually

Frig.

ye. The PLAN, beabea, the plaaaaaaann.

Mae.

Yes. That is me.

Um.

Okay, stop. We gotta talk.

i'm here.

In person, Mayday. Think you can wake up before noon again?

? i get up at like 1130 p much everyday now

Cool. Meet me for lunch at the Pickaxe.

we're eating at the pickaxe?

No. I mean meet me there. We'll go somewhere. And talk about the trip.

The Trip.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

Mae scrolled up and read the chat again. It felt like she was supposed to be reading between at least one line, but nothing showed itself. Bea wanted to talk. About The Plan. The Trip. This was a good thing!

Now she'd have to deal with the terrible issue of being too excited about something cool happening tomorrow and not getting enough sleep to enjoy tomorrow's cool thing.

She'd figure it out.

Mae set aside her laptop and looked around her room. Her bass caught her eye. Wow, it had been forever since everyone was there for band practice. She'd have to ask about that, although she would have to fit it around her work schedule.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a job kinda job. It was just, well.

Her drawings really weren't that good, but after a while of sending so many back and forth, Andy basically told Mae that she was actually, actually pretty good and that maybe, if she wanted, he could help her get started at making them better and… marketable? Sellable?

GREGG RULZ OK merch? She legit had no idea if the fox would like that or hate it.

But like, Andy said she could help him with his art, and that he could teach her to improve hers. And that was kinda cool, actually.

Mae scratched behind her ears. It brought a little bit of comfort. She had been lying down with a crooked neck.

So she took Andy up on that offer, and he was gonna come by tomorrow with his portable tablet and do some work and teach Mae some cool drawing stuff.

She got off her bed in her now-less-uncommon-so-maybe-now-just-normal PJs and made her way downstairs. Sure enough, her dad was there, watching TV. Just the news, though.

"Hey," Mae said, standing at the end of the couch as her dad read a book.

"Having trouble sleeping, kitten?" Stan asked as he closed the book, setting it on the arm of the couch and giving his daughter a small smile.

"Haven't tried yet, actually."

"Fair enough."

They blinked at each other four or five times.

Mae tried to hide her smile. "Garbo and Malloy."

Stan chuckled. "Yes!"

Mae sat down on the other end of the couch and Stan started up the recording. It was a pretty average episode, Garbo talking about family and all, but that was a good thing because Mae just needed it on in the background.

"Dad."

"You found me!" Stan smirked, pointing at himself.

"My brain is being weird."

Stan paused the show, but when Mae shook her head he started it back up.

Stan sat sideways now, now watching his daughter more than Garbo and Malloy. "Weird how, Mae? Are you okay?"

Mae squinted in thought. "Probably?"

"I need more to work with here."

"I did something that's not bad, but weird, and now I feel weird about it."

"You're a master of suspense, kitten."

"Andy's coming to the house. We're gonna hang out…" she spread out her arms, including the breadth of the space. "…In this house."

Stan actually paused the show. He was tired of missing it. Also, he wanted to talk to his daughter.

"That's new," he said, his face blank.

"Yeah. I was gonna tell you guys, but if I told you at the same time—"

"Damage control, huh?"

Mae sat up on the arm of the couch now. She wanted to be eye level with her dad.

"I knew it might be kind of a big deal for you guys, and I was trying to think of a good way to say it, but I couldn't, so now I'm just doing it."

She had run out of breath by the time she finished speaking.

Stan nodded. He sighed. He gave Mae a smile as he thought of the right words to say. Sure enough, it was easier just to say it.

"Andy was never the problem. You've guessed that, right?"

"Sorta."

Considering Andy's father used to dress in black and throw kids in holes, that made sense to her.

"I don't know what that kid's parents put him through." Stan shook his head. He clenched his fists. "If they treated him at all like how they treated us, I'd give his mother a piece of my mind if I knew she wouldn't sue me again."

"Whoa." Mae reeled at the thought of her dad getting the good kinda angry. Justice angry. "Justice Dad!" she cheered.

"It would be right, but it ain't doable." Stan relaxed, he turned away from Mae. He looked for some more words. "Point is, you're good. I don't know what his mother will do when she finds out, but either you or I are telling your mom over breakfast tomorrow. Fair?"

Mae nodded. "Okay."

"Be glad his father's not around anymore." Stan's jaw clenched. "He really… your mom can tell you about him."

Mae sighed. "I know about him."

"Good. Now do you wanna keep watching or go try to get some sleep?"

Mae went to answer one way, but yawned. "I gotta sleep. Gonna see Bea tomorrow."

Stan's mood turned quickly at that old name. "Oh yeah? Good kid. Glad you two are doing your thing again."

"It's a good thing," Mae pointed out.

"The best kinda thing."

As Mae went back upstairs, Stan turned back to his book. Candy had already bought it, read it, and now it was his turn to poke at it. It was about depersonalization. And derealization. He'd hate to have to tell his wife he didn't understand a lot of it, but when he could actually figure it out, it felt like he was spying on his own daughter.

He was a real piece of work, wasn't he? Ol' Stan Borowski, at it again. Angry at the world and wanting to show it in the worst way. Trauma contributes, it says. Trauma can mess with the mind, fuck it all up real easy.

He turned the TV back on. He needed the noise. He changed it back to the news. Garbo and Malloy were too much right now.

Good job, Ol' Stan. Good job. Maybe the kid was already messed up. But no. She's good. Him and Candy got her some decent help for once in her life, and she was actually doing well.

It was him. And whatever. The path was clear. You traumatize the kid, something happens in her brain, one day she snaps and bashes a kid's head in, and now all you got is a wall you're held up against for the rest of your life.

Good Ol' Stan. Is that why Candy made him read this? Maybe? Maybe she just wanted to share. Maybe she only… wanted to see Mae get better. And better and better still. Maybe she'd go back to school one day. Good God, what a thought.

All he could do was keep fucking it up.

The pages were getting wet.

He got up and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a Fiascola, usually reserved for Mae and friends, but he needed the kick.

Mae was lying on her back, under the covers, watching the lights waver along her ceiling. She had been shown some videos of relaxing music and associated visual effects, including colorful smoke and floaty bubbles. The music sucked, but if she muted the video and watched the lights move around her bedroom, it was a pretty cool way to fall asleep.

And she almost did, before there was a knock on her door.

Mae's ears folded as she mumbled, "Uh, come in?"

Stan Borowski flicked a switch and caught his breath. Sometimes he forgot just how many stairs this house had.

"Uh, you're not in trouble," Stan huffed.

Mae shielded her eyes from the light. "Oh. Kay?"

"I'm gonna ask you one question before you go to bed, and you don't have to answer it right away, but I want you to get started thinking about it ASAP."

Mae blinked.

Stan breathed sharply through his nose. "What do you want for your birthday, kitten?"

"Dad," Mae started, feeling like she was about to break out in laughter and double over in shock at the same time. "My birthday's not 'til forever."

Stan, who had finally regained himself, said, "That's right, but I want you to think big. You've been a good kid, and we wanna get you exactly what you want this year. This might take some extra saving, so we gotta plan!" Stan showed his teeth as he smiled a smile he hoped wasn't too obvious.

"What about the house?"

"The house… is the house," Stan stopped and started. "But this is all for you. It's whatever you want, kitten."

Okay, yeah, something was up. He was calling her kitten way too many times.

"Just, like, get me a gift card to Taco Buck or whatever. Don't worry about it."

Her father sighed. And scratched his arm. And cleaned his glasses.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked softly, desperation taking hold.

One more time, all Mae could really do was say what she had to say.

"Just be cool. And my dad. Be my cool dad. Also maybe show me how you'd have beaten up Andy's dad sometime."

Stan thought for a moment, and in that moment, he realized he'd be thinking a lot more tonight. He'd have to tear through a good chunk of The Best of Garbo and Malloy to keep himself steady.

"My pleasure," Stan smiled, naturally this time. He turned out the light. "Sweet dreams."

Mae shook her head. Her parents were weird, but that's where she got it from.

She curled back up under her blankets, fought for the right amount of blanket coverage to maximize both warmth and coolness, and drifted off with the cute bubbles as she thought about what a really good drawing of her dad would look like.

Next morning, Candy was kind enough to go over the same talking points as Stan, adding in the fact that the elder Cullens could, in fact, go fuck themselves.

Mae couldn't help but wonder, when she and Bea and Gregg and Angus confronted the cult, just which one of them was Andy's dad. Probably the tallest one.

Andy wouldn't be stopping by until later in the afternoon, so Mae went ahead and started out on a morning of exploration. She crossed powerlines, climbed rooftops, listened to a poem, critiqued the elevator pitch of an upcoming motion picture, got a refresher course on dusk stars, and was even updated on the opossum situation.

By the time 11:45 rolled around, Mae had already felt like she had a full day. Maybe waking up at 8:30 had its merits. When she made it to the Ol' Pickaxe, she was ready for the best meal Bea could think up. She peeked through the window, waiting for Bea to get distracted by a customer asking about pipes or whatever, snuck in through the door, and crouched under the front counter.

After the customer left, she watched as Bea stared half-eyed in the distance, looked over at the clock on the wall, and rubbed some sleep out of her eyes.

"GAH!" Mae screamed, shooting up over the front of the desk, sitting down on it.

Bea, on her behalf, reacted quite well. She had barely, but succeeded in, resisting the urge to punch her assailant directly in the fucking mouth.

"Mae, what the hell?!"

"Food," the cat whispered.

The crocodile breathed through her nose, then out of her mouth, and then spoke.

"You're insane."

"This is the elephant of surprise," Mae said in a mock documentary narrator tone.

"Element of surprise," Bea deadpanned.

Mae copied her father's toothy smile from last night. "Your mission, Beabea, should you choose to accept it, is to figure out if I didn't know that, or if I was messing with you."

Bea opened a drawer on the desk and took out a set of keys. "Already forgot about it. Let's get some lunch."

Bea wasted no time. Lock the store. Taco Buck, to-go. Back to the store. Unlock the store. Put up an out to lunch notice. Lock the store again! Ignore Mae as she points out that they weren't supposed to eat in the store. Eat in the backroom so customers looking through the window wouldn't see them eating and think the store had become some sort of young adult hot spot.

Doing the best to dispel the smell of sawdust and drying paint invading her nostrils, Mae devoured her barbacoa beauties from off the gigantic wiring spool as Bea nibbled and waited for Mae to come back from her trip to Foodville. The crocodile noticed that later she'd have to reorganize the piping on the shelving behind Mae. Apparently someone decided alphabetical order was simply stupid. Why have an order when you can have feeling? Bea would show him a feeling—

"So what's up?" Mae asked, hot sauce on her nose.

Bea blinked and brought herself back into focus. "We need to talk about the trip."

"Yes! Road trip." Mae's hands shot up in glee.

Just say it. Get it over with.

"It's not happening anytime soon." Bea actually felt herself flinch when she said it.

Mae's eyes practically doubled in size. This was not unexpected.

"But! No! …What?! NO!"

Mae was standing now. She was pacing. She was hugging herself and yelling and not proving to be practicing standard regulation safety procedure in the backroom of a hardware store.

Bea waited for a few minutes as Mae tired herself out. Eventually, the cat found herself sitting across from the crocodile once more. She was still holding herself, but she wasn't nearly as excitable as she was mere moments ago.

"Why?"

Bea finished her taco, took a few more breaths, and spoke.

"There's no money for it. I tried to work for it, but shit just keeps coming up. Bills. Supplies. Upkeep. Insurance. Taxes. Trying to—" Bea stopped herself. One topic at a time.

"Is this because I can't find a job?" Mae asked, her voice soft.

Bea looked Mae directly in the eyes.

"No blame game today, okay?" Her voice was stern, but kind.

Mae loosened her grip on herself as she realized this conversation wasn't an angry one. It was… something else, at least.

Bea stood up and walked to the other side of the spool. She rested a hand on Mae's shoulder and spoke as slowly and as softly as she could.

"It's gonna happen. The more I think about it, the more I want it. It's just not happening this spring like we wanted. We need more money, and more time to make it. If you find a job, or a way to make money that isn't crimes, that'll be awesome, but it's not your fault."

"Actually, I—"

Mae stopped herself. She looked up at Bea. There was something else.

"Sup, Beabea?"

"Please don't freak out again."

"I'm too tired to."

"Okay."

It was Bea's turn to pace. She kept breathing. Mae realized now, this was a breathing exercise, like how Dr. Blake showed her, just different.

After about a minute, Bea sat back down. She took a sip of her soda, and then said it.

"We gotta talk about the cult, Mayday." Bea's body froze.

Mae's froze too. "Oh."

They both sat there, frozen.

"I've been having nightmares," Bea said, not making eye contact with Mae, just staring down at nothing. Just trying to get the words out without losing herself. "I keep seeing me, you, everybody. Angus, Gregg, my dad. My mom… We all fall down. And they stare over us, and I can actually see their faces, but they keep changing. It's like staring up at a hundred people at once, each of them glad you're gone."

"That's hardcore, Beabea."

"But it's more than the nightmares!" Bea was looking at her friend now. Closely. She didn't want to scare her. No more of that. "All I can do lately is work. Then go home. I cook dinner for dad, I do whatever chores I gotta do on the weekend, and then I start all over again. And the whole time…"

Bea shuddered. She didn't realize just how much her voice wavered. She couldn't cry, but her body wanted nothing more.

Mae held herself close. She waited for Bea to keep talking. She needed to understand.

"That's all I can think about. I was supposed to be fine, Mae. I was supposed to put it away, and move on. Try to make things better. I can't do it, Mae. I'm as stuck as I was before you came back, but now there's nothing. Nothing's left, Mayday. Everything hurts so much."

"How long have you been feeling this way?" Mae asked, surprised to hear herself say it. She had just stolen a line from her brain doctor.

"I don't know."

Bea's voice was soft, the softest Mae could ever remember hearing it. Here she was, getting better all the time, and now her best friend was telling her how much of a damned wreck she had become.

"It didn't happen right away," Bea clarified. "After we all agreed to shut up about it, I had a bad dream or two. That was fine."

Bea shook her head.

"It wasn't fine, Mae. It just kept getting worse. Stupid me thought I could outdo it. Breathe better, eat better. I dunno. The other day I was home and I saw you and the guys walking somewhere. I could have shouted down to you from my window. I could have gone with you."

She pulled out a cigarette. She wasn't supposed to smoke in the store, but who gives a fuck, anyway?

"We gotta figure something out. I can't stop working. Angus and Gregg can't stop working…" Bea laughed a bitter kinda laugh. A snort. A cough. "And I know you're busy with shit too. So yeah, we're all adults letting our lives get all fucked while cults like that kill and kill and don't care about any of us. So yeah. I wanna talk about that. Somehow."

Mae watched as Bea smoked her cigarette. Her eyes burned as the fumes brushed across her face, but she wasn't about to complain, not right now.

As Bea finished her cigarette, she stood up, and walked over to the employee restroom. Mae heard a flush and, when Bea came back out, the cigarette was gone. Bea adjusted her dress and rubbed her temples as went back to breathing.

"Lunch is over," Bea said simply, a hint of her deadpan, sarcastic tone returning. "Thank you."

Mae stood up and shared a hug and a cheesy fist bump with Bea. They walked together back to the front doors. It sucked. Everything about it. Mae lost so much time with her friend for nothing, and she couldn't be there when she was hurting the most. No dumb movies. No music. No games. No hanging out at—

As Bea unlocked the door again, Mae gasped.

"Frig yeah!"

Bea blinked, and did a double take.

"What the fuck?" she asked with the smallest of smirks. Good ol' Mae Borowski, at it again.

Mae was beaming now. Radiating. "Band practice! Let's do more band practice!"

Bea tore the sign off the door. "I don't know if I'm up for that, Mae."

"Dude!" Mae was shouting now, exuberant. "If we make time for band practice, we can talk about… the stuff. It's a private room, nobody else hangs out there. If we gotta talk about everything that happened and how we're doing, or whatever, we can do it there."

A customer was walking across the street. Bea locked the door again. She rushed over to Mae and picked her up off the floor as she hugged her tight. They laughed as the customer, a rather tired rat, tried and failed to open the door. Loudly.

"Let's do that, Mae!" Bea shouted, her busy mind already calculating how to make it all work.

"Yes!" Mae shared the enthusiasm, but not the planning skills.

Bea rushed back to the door. "I'm gonna go see Gregg. We gotta do this. Now. Or after we're all done work. Speaking of which…"

Bea pushed Mae through the doorway of the store and locked it behind her. Before the rat could say a word, Bea answered.

"Family emergency!" Bea decreed. She started walking down the street, Mae in tow.

Then Mae remembered something.

"I actually gotta go home for a bit. I'm seeing—"

"Okay, cool!" Bea interrupted. "Just keep an eye on your laptop. I'll message you."

Mae watched as Bea rushed off toward the Snack Falcon. She turned around and headed home, walking around the rat before he could tell her anything.

Andrew Cullen couldn't remember the last time he visited someone's house.

It must have been high school, because that part of his life was a blur. It was strange. There was a brief period in middle school when people were super nice to him. Immediately after the incident, in fact. They'd invite him to their homes, play games with him, watch shows, go outside and take turns throwing things at other things. It stopped quickly, though, once freshman year rolled around. He kept to himself. Started drawing more and more. Did his best to ignore his parents' fighting. School, home. School. Home.

Keep the routine. Keep it clean. Don't let anyone hurt you.

Andy had been staring at the Borowski's front door for quite a few minutes now. He must have seen Mae's parents at some point, right? Either way, they probably wouldn't be home. Mae said as much.

So he gripped the carrying case hung over his shoulder, steeled himself for Mae to joke about it being a purse, and knocked on the door.

After a minute of shuffling and at least one distant crash, the door opened fast. There stood Mae, wide-eyed and grinning.

"Mr. Cullen," she regarded.

Andy grinned back. "Ms. Borowski, I've come with an exciting offer."

Mae had a blank stare for a moment, but played along once she realized what was going on.

"Do tell," she said in a foppish sort of voice.

Andy adopted his best salesman tone. "How about drawing lessons for a sip of whatever you got in your fridge?"

Mae rushed off toward her kitchen and came back with a can of Fiascola. She reached out and offered the can to Andy before she got a sense of what she was doing.

"Um. Come in," she said.

So Andy stepped over the threshold. He admitted to himself that he had no idea what the Borowski household could possibly look like. Would it be some sort of castle, perhaps of the bouncy variety? Maybe even a series of shipping containers hot glued together?

Nah. It was just a house, like his, only without his mom's obsessive cleaning. He smelled the dust, and there were little messes in every corner, crack, and cranny, but everything seemed to be in some sensible order. The Bless This Mess notice opined that the standard had been set and met. It was fine. It wasn't perfect, not even approaching pristine, but it was fine.

And so Andy set down his bag on the arm of the nearby couch and he took the soda can from Mae. He had a sip. Mae snorted when he asked her about drink coasters, and he promptly got to work. He sat down on the couch and adjusted himself in the built-in depression of the cushion. He unzipped his case, pulled out his portable tablet, and turned it on.

Mae just kinda stood there and watched.

"I figure we'll start fun," he began. "I'll show you what I've been working on, you show me, and we'll figure out where to go from there."

"Oh, yeah! I'll go get my journal. Sorry, kinda got home last minute." Mae ran up the stairs, leaving Andy to consider just how disorganized Mae could be. How she got decent grades in college before… yeah. Who knew?

Mae came running back down the stairs with her journal and some pens and pencils that were lying around on tables and under her bed. She sat down on the living room floor and opened up her journal and looked up at Andy.

After a good awkward minute, Andy realized Mae was waiting for him to begin again.

So he did.

"I've kinda been focusing on my own work lately, so I have a landscape you might like."

Andy fiddled with his tablet to find the right file and turned it around to show Mae.

Jenny's Field, as serene and as dangerous as ever. An old washing machine in the foreground and a spire of brick in the background. Oranges and yellows and various shades of earth. It was the sort of dusktime dreamscape only Possum Springs could manage.

"Hey, you drew where I took you!" Mae beamed.

"It's not done yet," Andy said with a smile. "But it's coming along. It needs touches, but I'm not sure what."

Andy looked down at Mae, who was looking up at him. Amber and black locked together in an instant, and it took a minute for them to realize that the staring served little purpose.

Awkwardly detaching from the eye contact, Mae fuddled through the pages of her notebook. "I think I got sketches of my mom and dad somewhere in here. Maybe we could, I dunno, make them more than sketches."

Andy nodded, "Sounds like a good time to me."

Mae blushed. She didn't know why.

They spent an hour drawing together. Mae eventually found sketches of her parents that weren't entirely scrawls. Andy wowed her by taking photos of the doodles and pulling them up on his drawing app. He handed Mae the tablet pen and trusted her not to crack the screen in excitement as he showed her digital illustrating. Mae, for her part, barely even bothered to follow what Andy called the sketch layer. She had real professional tools now, so she was gonna do it right. She looked up from the tablet to see the couch. Have a reference when you can, Andy said. So she drew the couch, and her parents sitting on it. Stan on the left, Candy on the right. They were probably watching a bad horror movie, Mae had said. Andy looked over the drawing. He flipped the layer, flipped it back, and gave Mae some pointers on proportion. Stylization was okay, but it's good to focus on following the rules before you break them.

"It's cool that you drew your parents, actually," Andy noted, "You have references of years of experiences with them to follow."

"But you don't do references," Mae teased her friend, sticking out her tongue.

Andy shrugged. "Sometimes I just wanna get lost in drawing."

"A drawing?"

"No, with drawing. The drawing process. The headspace, just disconnecting from the world for a bit to build a new one out of nothingness."

"Heh," Mae smirked. "Art nerd."

Andy laughed, shaking his head. "You're nerding right along with me."

Mae joined in the laughter. "Always."

Andy got down on the floor, pulling a muscle. After getting his shoulder a bit more comfortable, he showed Mae as he worked on his landscape. Nothing major. Just shading. Little details like lighting. Where the sun was, the light should follow. This world, he said, had the same rules as theirs, at least in that regard.

Mae sat close to Andy as he drew. It really was cool how fast he worked. She tried to follow along at first, but eventually she started looking more at Andy than his handiwork. The way his eyes would widen when he saw something he didn't like. The way his hand so gracefully glided along the surface of the tablet. That pitching experience, she realized, counted for something in his graphic design stuff.

"You're so cool," Mae blurted out.

At those words, Andy had left a streak of tall grass yellow along the canvas, but he undid it.

"You trying to kill me with kindness?" Andy joked, not realizing he was blushing.

Mae noticed the way Andy's beak curved when he smiled. The prosthetic shifted at a slightly different pace from the rest of it.

Andy saw something else.

"You have the coolest eyes," he said, coughing.

Andy smiled. Mae's eyes widened.

"No way, man. I got the nightm—"

"Mae," Andy interrupted. No more of this. "I'm the one that stuck you with that stupid nickname. Your eyes are cool and I was a jerk for saying otherwise."

Mae blinked. She really thought about what he just said.

"Yeah? No kidding?"

"Yeah!" Andy shouted, setting aside his tablet. "They practically glow in the dark and they're so expressive and pretty... cool. Yeah."

They were sitting even closer now. Neither of them noticed.

"Well, your beak is cool!"

"Mae, no."

"Yes!" She sat up, getting eye level to make her point. "Listen, you're you and you're awesome and talented. When you end up being the best graphic designer in the world, your beak's gonna be your thing. Your trademark!" She snapped her fingers when she found the word.

Andy sighed, looking away. "C'mon, Mae. You don't have to be this nice to me."

Getting on the other side of him, Mae found Andy's gaze again.

"I'm not kidding. I really think it's cool. You're amazing, Andy."

Andy smiled. He couldn't keep looking at her. Those eyes were… so different now.

"The Amazing Andy, huh?" he mumbled.

"Hell yeah!"

"And Marvelous Mae."

"Oooh, yes! That's us now. You got it."

They laughed again. For a few minutes, they laughed together even more as Mae showed Andy more of her silly sketches. Andy said it again, they really were cute and funny, although occasionally pretty violent.

"Crimes," Mae noted.

"Gotta have a crime or two now and then," Andy admitted.

"Was I weird?" Mae asked, quite suddenly in fact.

"No!" Andy answered rather quickly himself. "No. Just. Yeah. This was a lot of really nice stuff all at once."

"Well, duh," Mae shrugged. "You're nice."

Andy scratched his beak, felt the seam between his and the hospital's.

Mae didn't care. Not, like, dismissively. She just… never said anything bad about it. Never pointed it out at a weird time. For her, it just was.

"Can I show you something?" Andy asked his friend.

"Sup?" Mae asked back with a tilt of her head.

"It's a good thing," he added, getting up and undoing the smallest zipper for the smallest pouch on his carrying case.

"Either way."

Andy grabbed something from the pouch and, this time, sat down as slowly as possible on the floor across from Mae.

Closer still.

He held out a closed fist.

"Open your hand," he said, unable to hide his smirk.

Mae did, and so Andy reached out and opened his. A small, cold object fell into Mae's palm.

It was a coin of ragged copper, its pattern worn down with time. She saw the faint shape of the head of a pickaxe.

"Congratulations. It's trash!" Andy smirked.

Mae blinked. "What?"

"I mean, yeah." he coughed. "Wait, do you not know what that is?"

She looked down at the coin again, feeling its smooth edges.

"No clue, dude."

Andy chuckled. Out of his hoodie pocket, he pulled out another coin, this one bent in half.

"It's mining company funny money, Mae."

She looked between her coin and Andy's, then back and forth one more time.

"It's from back in the old days. Like, the really old days," Andy started the story, smiling more than he'd smiled in a long, long time. "The mining company thought that, if they wanted their employees to never leave, they could pay them with mining company scrip to spend on company food and other company goods. At the company store."

In spite of the tale of capitalistic terror, Mae couldn't help but hold onto some of Andy's enthusiasm.

"So they just kinda… lived at their job?" She regarded the coin differently now.

"Pretty much." Andy held up his crushed coin into the sunlight peeking through the windows. "This is what kept them there."

Andy sat there, looking at the old coin, as if great scrutiny would reveal further secrets.

"Now I just find them while I'm walking. That's the thing, right? You toil over it, beg for it, fight for a safer way to work for more of it, and now it's worthless."

Andy's expression changed. Thoughtful now.

"Sometimes you realize, Mae, when you're struggling for it still, just how meaningless the regular stuff is too."

Mae watched as Andy's mood turned. Money. It's always money, isn't it? Her parents. His mom. Stuck doing nothing but trying to make enough money to exist.

Looking down at her coin, she added, "Some weird museum would probably want this. The Museum of Worthless Things."

"Maybe that's where my dad is," Andy mumbled.

Mea heard it clear as the sky outside.

There it was again. Andy's dad. A member of the cult that killed so many people. An unknowable number. An unthinkable sum of lives cut short for the sake of a demon's empty promise. And yet, Andy didn't know that. He lived in ignorance, never to learn just how kind a soul he is compared to that murderous old bird and the rest of his kind buried in those mines. And he still mourned him. He still thought about him. He was waiting for the truth.

Don't tell him.

You can't break that promise.

These are the lives we live. Struggling above a hollow earth, waiting for it to finally collapse as it claws away at the surface.

The Black Goat.

This is death. This is the song.

Never stop playing it.

Never stop listening.

This world's creatures don't last. Soon we all fall away.

Down.

Down…

"Hey, Mae. Listen to me. Tell me where you are, Mae."

Just images. Shapes. Vague spaces for everything.

"What?" Mae whispered, tired. So tired.

"Where are you right now?" the voice asked again.

Still nothing. It all blurs together. It all folds together and fades away.

"I don't know," Mae answered.

"Okay, but you can hear me, right? We're talking."

The voice was trying to get Mae to focus on something. What was even left?

"Who am I, Mae?"

That stupid voice. It just keeps talking. Go away. No more control. Let the music play. The pain dies with you. The memories disappear. Nothing left.

No more silly movies.

"Oh."

"Mae?" The voice found hope.

"Andy."

That was the voice. It was Andy. She was Mae, and he was Andy.

There was a shape close to her, nearer than all the others. She held out a hand and touched it.

"Th… that's right," Andy stuttered. "We're gonna try something, okay? It works for me sometimes, so maybe it'll help you."

"Okay, Andy." Mae's voice was so small now. As small as any other part of her.

"Repeat after me, Mae."

"I will, Andy."

"I am alive."

"I'm alive."

"I'm home and warm."

"Home. And warm."

Vision shifted. Focus. Just a bit more focus.

"I am safe. No one can hurt me."

"Safe. No more hurt. Safe…"

Her vision went dark.

Andy watched as Mae drifted off to sleep. He saw it again, saw her fall away from reality.

But he wasn't hurt. He helped her. She was calm now. She was safe.

They were safe.

Andy picked Mae up from off the floor. She was small, but definitely heavier than she looked. He gasped for air as he set her down on the couch.

She snored, soft.

He didn't want to leave her now. He wanted to be close, make sure she'd be okay. She should have that much.

He stood there. His back ached from lifting her. Soon enough, he was lying down now too. On the floor. He was drawing.

He was drawing a cat with a baseball bat. One with the most playful smile and incredible eyes and silly, wonderful humor and profound insight he could only hope to peek into so often.

She was on a power line, having fun. She was so happy.

"I'm sorry."

He looked over to see her, mildly awake, nursing a headache.

"Don't be," he said, quiet.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. I'm not upset with you. I'm glad you're here."

A pause.

"I'm here," she said.

He nodded. "Yep. Right here."

She went back to sleep.

She was in Dr. Hermann Blake's office. She could tell, because it was next to fucking freezing. Cheap building, after all.

The walls were government white, the lights were low, and the sound of crashing waves from a white noise website on Dr. Blake's computer rushed on by.

Mae wriggled in her leather chair, the seat squeaking as she tried to get comfortable. She looked to the left at the books on the doctor's cheapo shelf, each title more incomprehensible than the last. To the right was an end table with a box of ultra soft tissues and a container of putty.

Mae picked up the putty, taking it out of its shell and letting it squish and pop in her hands. A seaside print with an old lighthouse on a cliffside was framed next to the clock above the door across from Mae.

In stepped the doctor, eyes tired as always as he took his seat in his rolling office chair across from Mae, the metal creaking as he rolled along the floor and shuffled some papers on his long, faux-wooden desk.

"So, Mae," Dr. Blake began. "How are you today?" His voice was deep and low. He was in his late forties and his icy blue eyes fell over his notepad. Left hand held that pad, the other a pen.

The putty popped in Mae's hands.

"My brain broke again," she answered simply, honestly.

The doc wrote something down.

"Is our meeting to do with having that episode, or the negative feelings associated with it?"

"Um… both?"

"I see."

Dr. Blake put away the pad and pen and gave Mae a staredown, his normally halved eyes squinting more than usual.

"And do you know what might have triggered this episode?" he asked.

Mae didn't need long to think.

"Oh, the cult."

This was a strange answer. Not because it wasn't the entire truth, but because Mae did not remember ever bringing up the cult with the doc before.

"A harrowing experience, to be sure," he recalled. He sat back in his seat. "It can be difficult to break free from that sort of thing. Witnessing death so closely and all."

"I guess so?" Mae squinted, her vision failing her before everything came back into focus.

The doc was holding his notepad again, rushing to get down some details before arriving at his next point.

"I don't think I need to tell you that you can't change the past," the doctor started, turning down the volume of the white noise. "But we can work toward finding ourselves in a kinder, more comforting future."

"How come bad shit never stops happening to me?" Mae asked, a pile of freshly squeezed putty sitting in her lap.

"Life never stops challenging us, Mae," the doctor said as he wrote another note. "What we do, instead, is build ourselves up and find ways to face those challenges with the strength, resolve, and understanding necessary to work through them in our own special way."

"So what? I'm fucked?!" Mae hissed.

"On the contrary, I think you're doing much better than you realize."

Downcast, Mae added, "But my brain broke again, after everything."

"You can't control your thoughts and feelings. You can only focus on your response, your actions."

Mae picked the putty off her pants, annoyed that a few spots wouldn't come off. Her mom would kill her next time she did laundry.

"So what do I do?"

Dr. Blake smirked. "It's not my job to tell you what to do, Mae, especially when it seems like you have a decent grasp on the situation."

Giving up on the putty, Mae crossed her arms and huffed. "Then what the heck is your job?"

The doc moved over to his rock drawer, pulling out a blue, striped stone and handing it to Mae to fiddle with without making a mess.

"That's a good question," he said. "I was lucky when I was young, in that I had a solid idea of what I'd like to do with a sizable chunk of my life. I wanted to listen, and to help as best as I could for all the people out there who were short on answers to their life's questions. I didn't want to be one of those people with exorbitant fees and an out of reach location. I wanted to be as close to my patients as I could be. The biggest town in a small corner of the world was good enough for me. Most of all, I wanted a space where empathy would find itself stronger than any other force present."

Mae shrugged, "Yeah, okay."

"But that's me. As for you, give yourself some time, is what I'll say. Have patience, and a little love for yourself locked away for when you need it most."

Mae sat there for a moment. Thinking. She handed the rock back to the doc. It wasn't the kind she wanted. That one was a little too rough.

"So I just… keep going?"

The doctor smirked again, writing another note.

"We've had our time together for today."

"Already?!" Mae looked at the clock. The time was stuck on a little after three.

"This session doesn't have a time limit," the doctor began. "However, you've reached a certain point, and I'd like us to see each other after you've spent a bit of time there."

Dr. Blake crossed his legs in his chair as Mae stood up.

"Um, okay?"

The doc nodded. "Okay, okay indeed. With that in mind, there's no need to schedule another appointment just yet."

Mae looked at the clock again. Still stuck at 3:08.

"Oh, son of a bit—!"

She woke up.

Mae was back home, on her couch. Her head felt like someone shoved a knitting needed in her ear, but other than that, she was pissed off. That was the second free session with Dr. Blake this week. She didn't need that. No psychoanalysis without her consent, please.

"Mae?" she heard a voice.

Struggling to turn her head, she saw Andy out of the corner of her eye. Quickly, he stood up, winced in pain, and walked over and looked down at her.

He stood there at an awkward angle. "You okay, Mae?"

"I need a soda and a screwdriver to loosen up my head," she muttered.

"Heh, you know a screwdriver's a drink too, right?"

Mae just gave him a blank stare.

Andy went to get a soda, this one in a glass with a few ice cubes.

"You need water too," he noted. "At least a little."

Mae struggled to sit up. She took Andy's helping hand, easing herself against the edge of the couch as Andy sat down on the other side.

Andy sipped from his lukewarm can as Mae rubbed her head and drank and sucked on an ice cube and spat it back out into the glass because it was too cold.

She watched as Andy stared ahead, a blank expression on his face. He sighed.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I was scared for you."

Mae curled her lip. "Don't be scared for me, dude. I'm just… yeah. That happens. It sucks, but at least I kinda know what it is now?"

"That must make it easier."

He was avoiding eye contact. Why?

"You okay, Andy?" she asked.

He took the glass when Mae struggled to put it on the end table. He set it down for her.

"Just never seen you like that before, is all."

What?

"You totally have?" Mae noted.

"That was different. You were hurting and you were new to it and trying to make sense of everything. Right?"

"I don't really wanna talk about that…"

"Well, yeah. Me neither, I guess. It's just… you're hurting. It sucks. I don't like seeing it."

She sat there, crooked in her seat, her hair a mess and her eyelids low. Andy was finally looking at her again. His eyes were red and strained.

He was crying.

Of course he fucking was.

Damn it.

"Well, that's what happens," Mae growled, exhausted. "My brain's stupid and it sucks and I suck and that's just what it's gonna be forever."

Andy scratched his beak. Fuck off, Mae. Fuck off with all that.

"So you wanna beat yourself up now?" he asked, his voice low.

They glared at one another.

She wanted to tell him to leave. It would be easy, right? She was a fuck up, he was an awkward weirdo. They shouldn't be hanging out together. Their families hated each other and all they ever did was freak out together and apologize and then freak the fuck out all over again.

Instead, she fully sat back up. She drank her entire glass of Fiascola in one go, she burped and coughed and she shivered and she said, "Your dad was a cult member there was a cult that worshiped this giant Black Goat that hates people and ate them in exchange for what the cult wanted and because the cult was all a bunch of shitty old guys they wanted to make Possum Springs have a better economy or whatever but they did it by killing a bunch people they thought were useless including one of my best friends his name was Casey and I hate them for it and Bea and Gregg and Angus but anyway the four of us were there in the mines by a hole that that had the evil demon god thing in it apparently and they said they were gonna let us go but they attacked us anyway this was in the mines oh shit I forgot yeah that cave in that was in the mines a few months back was us escaping the cult when they attacked us and we escaped but they all died and all of us decided that the less we talked about it the better but then when I started getting better I knew I wanted to talk to you so I did and I figured out your dad was in the cult and that's made me feel really bad for a while now so now I'm telling you because I'm tired of bottling things up that's what Dr. Hank told me to do and he sucked but I started seeing Dr. Blake because my parents saw he was cheap and took like all the insurances and wasn't too far away so they started driving me to him and so did Bea and Angus with Gregg a few times before they started getting busier with their stuff anyway I like talking about this stuff it sucks at first but you feel better eventually and now I gotta tell you all this or I'm gonna keep feeling bad and I didn't wanna do it cuz I was scared to tell you cuz you might think I'm crazy but I think my friends are gonna start talking about it now at least Bea she's cool you'd like her and she can tell you I'm not crazy okay maybe kinda crazy but not lying or crazy about the cult that your dad was in."

Andy coughed. He blinked a few times.

"Mae?"

She was shaking now. Damn it, man. Yep, crazy killer Mae Borowski said a bunch of shit again.

"My dad?"

He was sitting closer to her now. He was trying to make sense of all this. No way. No way that's true. You don't just… have demons in holes in Possum Springs. But every time he brought up his dad, Mae got nervous. He disappeared so mysteriously. He was talking about the Borowskis up until the day he was gone. He'd stay up so late, and his mom thought he was cheating, but…

"He was a bastard." Andy answered his own question.

Mae's shivering calmed down as Andy rested a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know, but he killed Casey, and a lot of other people, and he tried to hurt me and my friends too."

"And for what?" Andy asked, dejected. "Just kinda hoping things could get marginally better?"

"I guess. Yeah."

"It makes sense. I mean, it's crazy, but it probably made sense to him. He wanted a better world. For his family. But he was too damned—"

"Hey," she interrupted, feeling the tightening grip on her shoulder. She eased out of it, and gave Andy a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He held her close. As they sat there, he said, "You don't have to be, though. I'm not upset with you. I just realized that… I'm jealous."

Quickly, Mae pulled away.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Of me?!"

Andy nodded. "Yeah, you. I mean, you have two awesome parents who love you and care about you and try to understand everything you're going through. Back in high school, when I wouldn't leave my house, my dad… he called me a closed-minded idiot. And my mom didn't care about anything."

"She divorced him."

"Yeah, no, she cares. They both cared. They just showed it in the worst way ever. My dad's a murderer, Mae, cuz he thought that was a good idea. My mom… she just stumbles through the days, waiting for things to get better around her. I love her to death, you know? I just wish she'd try to make herself happy. I gotta find a way to do something to make her smile again."

"You can't do that, though."

"Why the hell not?! Somebody's gotta care about her!"

"Because you can't tell her how to feel!"

They stopped yelling at each other, calming down when Mae saw Andy was shaking.

"But I love her," he whispered.

God, they were both crazy. Maybe that's why they were friends?

"And she probably loves you," Mae spoke softly for Andy's sake. "Look, I dunno, I've been trying to get better, and I have to be doing a good job, because I'm feeling good. Like, really good, the best I've ever felt in forever. My mom and dad are happier too. Money's still stupid, and the house is still kinda… we're trying. We're doing what we can day by day. For each other. We're working together. You can't do all the work, Andy."

Andy shook his head. "She's got a job."

"That's not what I mean! It's like, why force anyone to feel anything? If you wanna help your mom, just be there for her. Tell her when she messes something up about your stuff and tell her when she does something awesome. Just keep talking, and loving."

Andy smiled. He was still shaking. They both were.

It was Andy who hugged her this time.

"We're gonna make it," he whispered. He was so quiet. "We can do this. Even if we never get that money from my dad… we got this."

Mae squeezed Andy's good arm. "Frig yeah. It's gonna be awesome. I mean, it'll suck sometimes, but that's okay. Just keep going at it. And take it from me, don't be afraid to ask for help. Sometimes, you need a lot of it."

And so they sat there holding each other for what felt like days. Eventually, they stopped shaking. They rested their heads on each other's shoulders. They felt safe together.

After a couple weeks or a few more minutes, they pulled away from each other. They were still holding each other. They didn't wanna let go. Not yet.

"Andy," Mae whispered.

"Y—yeah?" Andy stuttered.

Jeez, he was still nervous?

"I'm really hungry," Mae said.

Andy nodded, and laughed. They laughed together.

"Yeah, me too."

They raided the Borowski kitchen, found a frozen pepperoni pizza, and let it go in the oven. They had no idea what time it was and they didn't care. They'd take the pizza out when it smelled good enough.

They were sitting on the couch again, letting whatever play on the TV as they shared a can of soda. It was the last one.

They didn't notice how they had taken to sitting so close together now. They were practically sharing the same couch cushion as Andy played around on his tablet. Mae had gotten her bass from her room, realizing it would be good to practice before practice. She was tuning it right now. It really had been a while.

"You never told me you played," Andy said, not breaking his eye contact from his work.

Mae shrugged, "It's just a hobby."

Andy looked over, smirking.

"I'm about the least musical person in the world, so you got me beat there."

She elbowed him playfully, "So we both suck at stuff, huh?"

He elbowed her back. "Yeah, we're the worst."

They looked into each other's eyes again. They got past the awkwardness of it, and soon they were enjoying the closeness they felt. Smiling together, about to eat good food, enjoying each other's company…

"I'm gonna ask you a dumb question," Mae said.

Andy smiled. He had such a cute smile, the way the monochrome colors of his beak made his expressions so much more alive. This was Andy Cullen.

"Usually people ask if they can even ask the dumb question," he joked.

Mae held her bass close to her.

"Well, I don't want you to say no."

He set aside his tablet, turning it off before he did, like he was hiding something from her.

"So you're warning me."

"It's about to get really dumb, dude."

"Hit me."

"Is this a date?"

A pause. An incredibly long pause.

"It kinda is, isn't it?" Andy asked, his smile fading as he accepted the situation.

"I mean…" Mae spread her arms out. "This is basically dinner and hanging out doing stuff together and we're sharing a lot of stuff about each other and—"

"Practically cuddling on the couch?" Andy interrupted, just now seeing the lack of space between the two of them for the first time. "No, yeah, I'm noticing that too."

"But still, you haven't answered the question."

"I mean, I wasn't planning on having a date, but all the date ingredients are here."

"Then what is this, if it's not a date?" Mae asked with a tilt of her head.

"Do you want this to be a date?" Andy asked with a cocked eye.

"I dunno! I'm asking you because I don't know this stuff. I dated like nobody because high school was the worst and college sucked even more."

"You really think anyone wanted to date me back then? I'm here because we've been spending a lot of time together and you're always super honest and funny and actually kinda cool and I thought maybe I should…"

Andy's voice faded. He sat there with no expression on his face.

"Dude," Mae said. That was all she could say.

"Oh, fuck me!" Andy sighed, head in his hands.

"Dude!"

Andy caught himself. He shot back up. "Whoa, no, no, no! Not—"

"I knew what you meant! It's just. Whoa. Dude, we're on a date."

They paused again. In all this talk, Mae's bass ended up on the floor, and they were still as close as before.

Andy nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

Mae's eyes widened and sparkled in the sunlight. "Wow."

"Yep."

"You really think I'm cool?" Mae asked, genuinely wanting to know.

Andy beamed at the opportunity to say as much.

"Yeah. Definitely. And not in a dumb high school way either. I mean, you're actually cool. Good to be around. You see the world in a weird and cool way, and I like hearing about it. I like talking to you. I like learning with you."

For once in her life, Mae Borowski actually took the compliment.

"You're… really nice," she started, trying to match Andy.

"Yeah?"

"You've been really really nice to me. You're also smart and good at drawing and sports and probably so many other things I don't even know about yet. You even make sitting and doing nothing fun."

"I'm not boring you?" Andy asked, wincing at the question.

"Trust me," Mae smirked. "You'd know if you were."

"You're having a good time?"

"It could be a lot worse. For a date you didn't even know was happening, you're doing a great job."

"That's probably the best review I can hope for."

"Pretty much."

The smell of freshly unfrozen pizza had filled the living room. They got up and moved awkwardly around one another to the kitchen. Peeking through the oven door to see that the pizza could be crispier, Andy convinced Mae to wait a bit longer.

Avoiding eye contact, Andy sat in a chair as Mae sat on the counter.

"I've never really done anything like this. Actual dating," said Andy, blankly, finally breaking the silence.

Mae looked over at Andy, rubbing her arm out of nerves. "No, yeah, I get that. Me too, actually."

"Not a lot of offers for someone with half a beak," he deadpanned.

"Well, I'm… you know," Mae sighed.

"Yeah. I know."

They looked at each other, got up, and shared one more hug.

Soon enough, the pizza was ready. They ate it together quickly while Mae told Andy about band practice tonight and how she was gonna take him with her because he was a part of this crazy shit now and Andy nodded in agreement before they got up and threw away their paper plates and put the baking sheet in the sink for Mae's parents to argue over.

Mae brought her bass over her shoulder and Andy put his graphic design tools back in his carrying case. They stepped outside together.

It was finally spring. They could tell, because work was over and the sun was still out. The two of them stood there, looking around the neighborhood. The sun was still relatively high in the sky, which was so clear it was no wonder they were smiling. Leaves were budding on trees and weeds were popping up on the Borowski's front lawn.

Not wanting to hurt his shoulder, Mae held Andy's left hand. Andy looked down, blinking, not quite registering what just happened until he instinctively held Mae's right.

They were off toward band practice. Eventually, holding hands got kinda weird, so they let go. Mae and Andy walked close together the rest of the way, not sure what to say to each other, but not really minding.

When they got to the Party Barn, Mae's friends weren't quite sure what to say either.

Above all else, Angus Delaney considered himself a reasonable man. He was certainly not the type to go chasing shadows under the sun. And yet, when Gregg came barging into his place of work moments before closing, telling him it was 'Party Barn Time,' he had foolishly assumed that his boyfriend had an itch to catch up with old friends and play music for the night. So when the two of them arrived, it was an unpleasant surprise to see Bea already there with her laptop/drum machine, ready to discuss some rather unsavory topics.

While Angus had expressed his wish not to focus on such foolish things as the potentially supernatural, Bea reminded him, unfortunately, that regardless of whether or not things had a paranormal origin, the matter of being sweet talked to by a group of murderers was one worth discussing. As soon as Mae arrived, of course. So Angus waited, being soothed by Gregg as the fox practiced a new song, hoping that the evening, outside of intent, would remain sane.

So fifteen minutes later, when Mae walked in with Andy Cullen, his hopes were dashed and his sour mood was all the more obvious.

"Before you say anything," Mae began, seeing the shock on her friends' faces, "I told him everything."

"Whoa, what?!" Gregg shouted rather close to Angus's ear, playing a bum note on his guitar in the process.

Bea clenched her fists and many pointed teeth. "Why would you do that?"

With a sigh, Andy stepped forward. "My dad was one of them. A cultist."

Looks were shared.

Gregg put it succinctly. "Well, shit."

And so Mae and Andy took their places in the barn of parties. Gregg and Angus sat on the stage, Bea sat across from them on an old chair with an underside that was sixty percent discarded gum, and Mae and Andy stood in the middle, close together in all the awkwardness.

This closeness did not go unnoticed by the others, but this was not the topic at hand. Angus, then, decided to take charge before things inevitably took a turn for the absurd.

"Everyone," so did he commence with formality, "Lest we forget, what happened is well in the past and discussing it would only lead to unnecessary anxiety and conflict. I'd be happy to move on and play some music. If Andy has any requests, by all means."

As soon as Angus was done, Bea slammed her laptop shut and made her point known.

"Angus, this is about all of us. It's about everyone talking about what happened and trying to feel better about it. So no, you don't get to tell us we can't."

Angus was ready to begin the debate proper, but Gregg started in.

"Look, it's crazy. Whatever happened, we can agree on that. And like, look, I got questions, and we probably can't answer all of them, but we can try."

Betrayed, Angus turned his head toward Gregg and asked, "Why, though? What purpose would asking any of these questions serve?"

"Again, feeling better about this. Guys, I already told Mae about what's been going on with me," Bea answered, giving her best friend a small nod. "But this shit, whatever it was, is messing with my head, and I can't be the only one dealing with it."

Gregg clutched his guitar to his chest. "Cap'n," he said to Angus in his softest voice, "At night, I kinda have trouble not thinking about it. Like, the day's fine. I can work and talk to people and stuff. But at night, lying there next to you, I gotta lotta questions I wanna ask."

"Bug," Angus sighed, resting an arm on Gregg's shoulder. "Why haven't you told me?"

Gregg held onto Angus's arm. "Cuz I didn't wanna scare you. I thought I was the only one worried about it. So when Bea hit me up at the Snalcon with this idea, I finally figured out I wasn't. So yeah, I'm sorry, but I wanna talk."

Turning his head between Gregg's sullen face and Bea's determined scowl, Angus knew, at least for now, he was beaten.

"Okay…" he whispered.

Mae and Andy had remained silent during this whole exchange. A few minutes in, they started holding hands again. Gregg and Angus didn't notice, but Bea did. It took a healthy amount of willpower not to scream over the thought of those two being involved in any way, but she remained focused. This had to be done.

"It was fucked up," Bea started, sighing as she realized how inarticulate she had become at this point. At least she was getting her point across. "I didn't want to say it, but we have to. What happened that night was outright traumatizing. A bunch of old creeps told us about all the people they killed."

"Casey…" Gregg whimpered.

Angus squeezed his partner's shoulder. "Yes. You're right. We should not diminish that."

"And then what?" Bea continued. "We nearly died in a mineshaft. If any of us got seriously hurt—" Bea stopped herself. "They all died. Those cultists."

"Bastards," Gregg growled through gritted teeth. "Old shitheads got what they deserved."

Everyone turned to see the sneer on Gregg's face. Such an uncreative insult from the fox was noteworthy enough. Still, there was fear in his eyes.

"But it's like," he said, collecting a bit of himself, "Who's saying that was all the cultists down there anyway? Maybe there are more? A bunch! Anywhere! Who can you even trust in this town anymore?"

"Can't even trust your own family," Andy added with a solemn nod. He gave Mae's hand a squeeze before he let go. "This is weird, me being here. I know it is. You guys went through something I couldn't even imagine, but I do wanna say, as someone new to all this, the thought that Possum Springs has this much darkness surrounding it… it's not something you can ignore."

That's it. Everyone's upset. This was pointless.

"Since when is it our job to squash a cultist infestation?!" Angus shouted. He stood up, breathing through his nose to calm himself. "I didn't want to think about this. I wanna get out of this awful town, move as far away as I can, and that's what we're supposed to be doing! Get out and forget everything."

"Some of us can't do that, Angus!" Bea snarled. "Some of us are stuck here."

"Some of us don't want to leave," Andy added.

"Cap'n," Gregg said, looking up at his bear with watery eyes. "C'mon. This is serious stuff. I don't know what we should do, but we gotta do something. Somehow."

"I—" Angus was stunned. "We're not fighters. We don't have connections. How could we possibly fix this? There's no way we can help this town. We're hopeless. …Worthless."

Angus sat back down, the dawning realization of just how fearful he had become, hidden from himself until now, clear across his face. Jaw dropped. Gregg held him.

Silence. It was obvious now to all of them. Angus said it perfectly. This was how they felt. This was the truth. They were worthless creatures facing an unknowable force. Back then, forgetting about it was the only thing that made sense. But now, in all this sorrow, it was known just how much the experience had changed them.

"Uh…" Mae opened her mouth, about to speak. She stopped herself. She really didn't wanna fuck this up.

Andy turned to her, and gave her a small nod.

Mae nodded back. "Guys, I know you might never believe that I saw what I saw. It's crazy! A Black Goat and all my crazy nightmares and visions. I still have dreams about it, even if they don't talk to me anymore." She gulped, then kept going. "But, like, you guys all are my friends. You're the best friends ever, and if anyone can come up with a way to do something, it's us. Maybe we don't gotta figure anything out tonight. If we stick together, though…"

Mae trailed off. That was stupid. She said such a stupid thing. Stupid, stupid. Stupid.

"She's right," Bea said.

Mae blinked. Oh. Okay.

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "This is how it works, right? We acknowledge how fucked up it is, and after some time, we can start figuring out how to fix it. Together."

He looked down at Mae and they shared a smile.

They were holding hands again.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Bea shouted, unable to contain herself any longer. "Mae, Andy, are you guys…?"

"Whoa," Gregg looked over at the pair, eyes nearly as wide as his grin. "Whoa!"

Angus shook his head.

Mae and Andy looked at everyone, and then at each other.

"Uh! Uh!" They said together, letting each other go and completely losing it.

"They're nervous!" Gregg shouted, his mood having completely changed at the revelation of how cute Mae and Andy were being.

"I missed way too much," Bea lamented.

"It wouldn't surprise me if my own family was in the cult," Angus noted, dejected.

The mood had shifted again.

"Oh, Cap'n," Gregg turned, nuzzling Angus's shoulder. "They're all a bunch of cold jerks anyway."

"Would it be right of me to want to stop them, if they were?" Angus asked the room.

Andy scratched his head. If there was ever a time to offer his services…

"Hey, Angus," he said.

Angus turned toward Andy. "Hm?"

"Parents suck," Andy noted with a nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, they do," Angus nodded back.

"Can I get in on that?" Gregg asked with a smirk and a sparkle in his eye.

"Rough parenting train. Choo-choo," Bea deadpanned, standing up and walking toward the stage.

Andy smirked. "Mae's the lucky one."

Mae crossed her arms. Her ears twitching, she said, "Sometimes my mom makes me wear a jacket when it's cold."

Andy laughed. "You really wanna play that game?"

Mae laughed back. "Can we play music instead?"

"I'm so down!" Gregg shot up, strumming his guitar.

"It'd be good to get some emotions out," Angus noted.

Bea readied her laptop. "Speaking of which, maybe I should take up actual drumming. Constructive smashing."

Andy took a seat on another gum-ridden chair as the band got on stage. "I really don't have any requests. Just wow me, I guess."

"Is that a challenge?!" Mae shouted, hyping herself up.

Andy laughed, rubbing his shoulder. "Oh, it's fucking on!"

"Nice. We are so hanging out more often!" Gregg screamed at Andy. The bird shot back at the sudden noise, but calmed himself down before the building to get a lot noisier.

The band played a few of their greatest hits. They were out of practice, and in Mae's case, out of tune, but the mood was high and Andy could safely say it was the greatest (and only) concert of his life.

After Gregg and Angus said their goodbyes, Angus reminded Gregg that it would be wise to calm down some in time for bed, it was just Mae, Andy, and Bea outside the Party Barn.

A crescent moon sat tilted in a milky navy blue sky.

Bea still had a lot of questions.

"So what the hell are you guys?" she asked bluntly of the pair as she put her laptop in its bag.

Mae and Andy looked at each other, hoping one of them would have the answer.

Nope.

"Close?" Andy more asked back than answered.

Mae just shrugged. "It's super new… all this… stuff."

Bea put her hands on her hips. It wasn't gonna be that easy for them. "How new we talking?"

Andy grimaced. "A few hours ago."

Mae nodded.

Bea shook her head. She reached into her bag and pulled out a cigarette."And in spite of everything that's happened between you two, this is currently happening. Whatever it is." She lit up and took a puff, hoping this would give them time to think of a valid response.

"Pretty much," Andy said with a blush, having long since resigned himself to staring down at the sidewalk.

"I think we, like…" Mae took another moment to think. Hopefully she could go two for two on saying words good. "We make each other really happy. Because we both got jerk brains, but we're cool with that, and we're there for each other."

Andy hid himself under his hood. "Plus, she's cute."

Mae gasped. "You take that back!"

"I'll take you to the school dance," Andy said, his smirk hidden.

Mae gasped again. And again! "Oh! What's the opposite of prom king and queen?"

"Prom jesters?" Andy answered after a bit of thought.

"Yes! We get the stupid hats and have to do a stupid dance."

"Then everyone throws tomatoes at us."

"May the prom run red with fruit and/or vegetable guts!"

Bea stood there watching the two dorks dick around. "Okay."

Mae and Andy stopped themselves, having forgotten Bea was there.

Bea took a few steps toward home. "You guys have a good night. I'm gonna go throw up from the cute. Oh, and Mae."

Mae titled head, amber eyes wide. "Sup?"

"Thanks."

Bea started her walk home in the cool of the spring evening.

Soon enough, after sharing a look of serious, awesome accomplishment, Mae and Andy were going home too. They held hands again, getting over the awkwardness of it. They walked close together as they pointed out constellations all the way to Andy's.

They found the luxury of time together under the night sky in springtime. The season was still young and the evening was cold, but they didn't notice or care.

"Here's my stop," mumbled Andy with half a smile and half a question on his face. He stared up at his house, the whole building ready to swallow him up.

Mae leaned back and forth on the balls of her feet."Uh, Andy?"

"Yes?"

They stood there like that. Distant and balancing.

You know, who needs discretion when you have clarity?

"I know we told Bea some stuff," Mae started. "But like, before you go, I'm still kinda wondering…"

"What we are," Andy finished.

"Yeah."

"I don't know. What do you think we are?"

"Dude, if I had any clue, I'd tell you."

"I'm not gonna be much help either."

Mae scratched her arm. She fussed with her hair. She found herself wondering just what it meant to feel the way she felt tonight. So calm and worried all at once, unsure which way the scales would tilt before her head hit the pillow and she turned out the light.

"This is weird, right?" she asked suddenly, the waiting and wanting not suiting her at all. "We're being weird? Bea was right about our history and now we're here and this is all just the weirdest it's ever been."

"Weird. Stick to what you know," Andy deadpanned.

"Um…"

"No, sorry. That's not a nice phrase."

They stood there for a few moments. The day had gone so well and the night was promising, but there were so many mistakes to be made.

Mae, without a doubt, was more prone to taking risks.

"I think I like you, Andy. You're nice and understanding and you laugh at my dumb jokes and tell me to not be shitty when I'm being shitty to other people and myself. I want more of that. With you."

Andy smirked. He scratched his beak. The transition between his born appendage and the prosthetic was smoother than he remembered.

"You have no idea how amazing you are, Mae. It's like all I wanna do is know more about you. And I wanna make sure you know how smart and talented and sweet and outright awesome you are every day."

"I'm really not that…" she stopped herself. Bit her lip. Held her arm. "Okay. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mae."

Mae had already taken charge of the current situation. She looked up to Andy, the bird's smile sincere, his eyes shining in the lights of the houses and homes. He wanted her to say more. Please, more. Just a little bit.

So she did.

"You wanna have another date, Andy? Like one we plan?"

He nodded. "That would be amazing. Let's see each other tomorrow."

She beamed. "Yes! Tomorrow we can hang out some more and watch movies and play games and go for a walk and I can show you so many cool things and you can show me cool things and then we can—"

She stopped. In all her excitement, it was only now that she saw the change in Andy. The way he stood taller, the way his smile grew with each word, the way he was closer now. So much closer.

She moved closer too.

He rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Mae?"

"Ye?"

He smirked. "I'd like to ask you a dumb question now."

She nodded, her eyes wide. "I think you should."

"Can I kiss you?"

Yes, now. Do that. Right now.

"Okay, but… I'd have no idea what to do."

"Who the hell does?"

She kissed him first, which took him by surprise, but he was quick to catch up. She held him around his chest while he brushed the dyed tips of her hair.

Soon the nature of what this all implied caught up with them, and they let go of the kiss, but not each other. Their faces inches away from each other, they sighed and stood there together for just a bit longer.

They had to go. They really did.

So they said goodnight. They waved and went off. Andy up his garden path, Mae on a nearby fence, balancing like a gymnast.

He couldn't help but wonder how she did it.

But when he closed the door behind him, he was left with no more time to wonder.

Claudette Cullen was standing there, arms crossed, still in her work clothes.

She had seen it all.

Andy was small now. So small. He was a child again.

"Why?" was all she asked. A question. A cut.

He was shaking, speaking slow to keep from stuttering. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

"There's a big difference between making up and…" she trailed off, not wanting to let the anger show. Not yet, anyway.

"Making out?" Andrew offered.

"Andrew Cullen!" Now it was time. She knew he was spending a lot of time with the girl, but this was too far. Too much. "You know about her. You know what she put this family through, and now you expect me to accept the fact that you and that psycho are—. You know about the friends she has!"

She breathed. She was seething. Steaming, ready to sound off.

"By the way," she added, "I'm not doing this because they're gay."

Andrew gasped. He was avoiding eye contact, but now… "What?"

"I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

"What the hell, mom?!"

"I'm trying to have a reasonable conversation here, Andrew. Do not yell at me!"

He was quiet now, stuck in the hallway, in front of the door. His mom wasn't letting him go anywhere. He hadn't even taken off his shoes.

"I don't understand it," Claudette went on. She had to say it. Had to get it all out now. Had to make it simple for her son. "I wish I could. We went through so much just to get this family back in a good place. Floyd and I divorced, and I know that upset you. I know these cock-for-brains lawyers won't let us have his money. I know you wanted to speak with that Borowski girl about what happened. I see now I should have never let that happen. You got your answers, Andrew. Do yourself a favor. Get away from her. Move on."

Andy Cullen stood there. His mom was done. She wanted him to be done too. To stop everything. Stay home. Walk alone. Work. Eat. Sleep.

He started softly, but spoke louder as he found himself again, finding everything he had gained. "Her name is Mae. Call her Mae. I care about her. Her friends are amazing. She makes me happy. It feels right, mom. It's all nice. It's not perfect, but it's good."

She shook her head. Sullen. At least, she appeared to be. "You had so many good things happening for you. And you're throwing it all away just to be with the Borowski girl."

"It's Mae! …Can't I be happy, mom? Is that allowed in this stupid house? Is this the wrong kind of happy for you?

"Yes!" she screamed. She was so loud now. Too loud. Too much yelling again. Too much. "Yes, it is! She tried to kill you, Andy!"

"No, she didn't! It was an accident!" he shouted back.

Long pause. No eye contact now. Lost. Gone.

Claudie approached her son. She bent. She made him look at her. "Get out of this house." It was small. It was simple. It was like she asked him to pass the salt shaker.

He did. He stepped out. Stumbled back to the sidewalk. Eyes wide, lights and images flashing by, he walked.

"Andy, come back!" Claudie yelled from the door.

He didn't hear her.

There's a house at the bottom of the hill. One story, end to end, surrounded by homes. There's a house at the bottom of the hill, and in the springtime the ice melts and the rains come and puddles form in the grass and the dirt in the yard. There's a house at the bottom of the hill, and every day a bird roosts there, waiting for the day to end, waiting for the arguments and the pain to stop, for a starlight to shine, something to guide him away, far away, from that house at the bottom of the hill.

"Um, hi, I'm Andy."

He stood there in the rain. A night time shower had built up quickly in the last hour. His voice was small. He stood in the doorway, no eye contact. Watching nothing.

"Andrew?"

Candy Borowski had not seen Andy Cullen in years. In spite of all that had happened to him, he had certainly grown into a respectable young man, quite different from the shy boy she saw at all those meetings and hearings. It was a shame, then, how he was carrying himself so loosely.

"I was going for a walk…" Andy's speech was slurred.

Candy sighed. "At 10:30?"

"Candy, who's—?"

Stan was enjoying a night of gruesome murder mysteries with his wife (closing his eyes when necessary, ignoring his wife's gentle teasing) when there was a knock on the door. Admittedly, the older Borowskis had grown used to late night visitors, but not on a rainy weeknight.

So when Stan went to check on the situation, he was just as surprised as Candy to see Andrew Cullen again after all this time.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Borowski," Andrew said, staring at Candy as though he had just seen her for the first time again. "Can I have an aspirin?"

Stan and Candy shared that look again, the one they had shared for years. Bea, Gregg, Angus, Casey, and now Andy. It was amazing, really, how all of Mae's friends had to struggle with mental illness and life's worst challenges. Dark nights. Troubled days. They reasoned long ago, of course, that they weren't any better off when they were younger. They struggled. They fought for better lives. They lost more battles than they won. So they decided back then that, when they could, they'd be there for these kids.

"Why don't you come inside, Andrew?" Candy asked, giving the dazed Andy a gentle push out of the rain and into their home.

They sat Andy down on the couch and gave him a glass of orange juice. Staring open-mouthed at the wall, he ignored it. They tried to ask him basic questions. How he was feeling. What had happened.

He stayed silent, watching old horror movies play behind his eyes.

Eventually, Stan changed the channel to Garbo and Malloy talking about the weather and storms and what you can lose in them. He stood there, cleaning his glasses with his shirt, watching Candy and Andy on the couch. She was patting Andy's back.

Stan heard a sound from above coming toward the stairs. He and Candy turned around to see Mae, in her usual outfit, hopping down each step with an audible thump.

"Can't sleep. TV time!" she shouted quite loudly.

Andy shuddered from the sound.

Mae saw Andy with his lost eyes, saw her mom and dad looking over him.

Her dog-bitten ear twitched as the rain outside fell harder than before.

She ran to him.

Mae's parents were admittedly surprised to see their daughter latch onto Andy, holding him like something so precious. They were even more surprised to see Andy hold Mae as well, the two of them sitting together quietly as Garbo and Malloy droned on.

They had a feeling, though, that an explanation would come with time. For now, they sat in the living room, recovering. Watching TV. Night owls, the lot of them.

Andy fell back together again. Eventually. He was tired, but he made it clear he did not want to sleep just yet. He scratched at his beak and provided a proper introduction of himself for Mae's parents.

"My mom told me to leave. We had an argument, and I guess that had a strong effect on me," He concluded, smiling a small, sad smile.

"About what?" Mae asked.

Andy looked between Mae and her parents.

The Borowskis understood.

Candy's fist was clenched. "If you need a place to sleep for the night, our couch is available."

"There are extra blankets in the closet," Stan added, heading up the stairs without hearing an answer.

Mae rested her head on Andy's kinder shoulder. Andy played with Mae's hair again. She seemed to like that.

Candy saw this and rushed upstairs to help Stan find those blankets. She walked up behind her husband, his hand resting on the doorknob, the closet yet to be opened.

"So I'm not crazy, right?" Stan asked, not even bothering to turn around, knowing full well Candy would come up to check on him.

"No, dear. Mae and Andrew Cullen are cuddling on our couch," Candy answered, hands on her hips as she watched her husband slowly open the closet door.

Stan sighed, digging through cold weather clothes and assorted junk to find extra blankets entombed in scented garbage bags.

"Is this what karma is?" Stan asked, less than half-joking. One third of a joke, even.

As Stan took out the bags, Candy helped push the Borowski junk pile back into the closet.

"Claudie's punishment is a divorce and watching her son and our daughter…" she couldn't finish the sentence. She was giggling. Soon, laughing.

Stan joined in. "What you're saying is we need to encourage these kids?"

"I'm saying—" Candy snorted. "If they happen to enjoy each other's company, and their relationship is strong, healthy, and long-lasting…"

"Make sure the whole town knows about it," Stan finished.

After she closed the closet door, he handed her a bag to carry down as well. Once back in the living room, they saw Mae and Andy, still close, looking over Mae's journal together. All jokes about the matter blew away as Stan and Candy watched the two of them together, Mae struggling to stay awake as she tried to remember the stories behind her sketches, Andy with his eyes closed, smiling softly as he listened to Mae's mixed up tales.

Mae's parents mentioned having work tomorrow and left her and Andy with the blankets to arrange as they pleased. Mae watched her mom and dad head upstairs. She told them she loved them. They said the same. Andy thanked them. They nodded and said goodnight.

Lights went out in the Borowski household. Mae and Andy were left with nothing but muted late night television and each other's eyes. Mae rested against Andy while he lay on the end of the couch, his arm around her waist.

"I guess we got an early start on our date," Mae mumbled, shifting under their shared quilt and comforter.

"I toss and turn a lot in my sleep," Andy said bluntly, with a sigh.

"Enh, same." Mae was too tired to shrug.

"And I have nightmares."

"Also same."

"And I might drool on you, or something."

Mae scoffed, taking her head off Andy's chest and crawling over him to look him in the eyes.

"You nervous, or something?" she asked with a smirk, her nose touching the tip of his beak.

Andy couldn't help but smile.

"You trying to be cute?"

"Is it working? If so, then yes," Mae whispered, giving Andy a peck on the side of his beak.

Andy squeezed her tight around the waist in response. They laughed and squirmed and got comfy again, settling into a quiet night together as the rain pattered against the home.

In spite of the warnings, the sleep was peaceful, even if they ended up in a tangle of blankets as the hours went by. Andrew woke first, his stirring bringing Mae to the waking world for a few fleeting moments.

"That was a mistake," Andy said with a groan, his eyes shutting tight against the mid-morning sun.

"Did I screw something up?" Mae murmured, muffled, still half asleep with her face buried in the back of the couch.

"No, my shoulder's on fire. That couch sucked for my old man body," Andy sat up, rotating his arm, trying to reset himself.

"Mmm, you're so tall, Andy," Mae said to herself, working her way back to sleep.

Andy blinked. "I'm not even six foot."

"Meh…" she went, gone again.

Andy shook his head, standing up to avoid the temptation of more joint aching rest. He turned to see Mae curled up, pulling and piling blankets over herself as she delved further into the crack at the back of the couch. If Andy wasn't careful, he could lose Mae somewhere in there.

He chanced taking a self-guided tour of the Borowski kitchen. Candy was there, reading a book about pool-related (the water receptacle, not billiards) true crime.

"Feeling better?" Candy asked, saving her page and putting the book on the (again, not a pool) table.

"Yeah, just…" Andy paused, taking a seat in an empty chair with another loud groan. It was a shame his pain meds were back at the house. "Trying to figure out what I'm doing."

"That's a full-time job," Candy said with a knowing smile.

"Where's Mr. Borowski?"

"At his full-time job. Then a union meeting." She thought for a moment and added, "Please, I'm not your teacher. Call me Candy. He's Stan."

Andy sat there, counting the striations on the false wood of the kitchen table. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

He asked if he could help himself to a drink from the fridge. At Candy's approval, he poured himself a glass of milk. He was dazed, he was dirty, and he was still exhausted, but none of this bothered him. At least, it wasn't on his mind just yet.

"Why'd you help me?" he asked Candy.

She answered, "You asked." That small smile was still plain on her face.

He drank his milk. He turned and heard Mae snoring, sleeping soundly. He smiled too.

"She's a heavy sleeper," he noted.

Candy smirked. "Get used to that."

Those words made Andy blush. "Were we, uh… that obvious last night?"

She couldn't hold in her laughter anymore. "I had a feeling." She laughed some more and sighed, content, still high off her own mirth. "Is this what you and your mother actually argued about? You and her?"

Candy tilted her head, resting it on her chin. It was less a question, more making the point that she knew. Andy couldn't wriggle out of this.

Mothers are strange creatures.

"Yeah," Andy said, scratching his beak. "More than that, but yeah. Pretty much that."

"Stan and I saw how she looked at you. It was good she was still up last night. She seemed to help you relax."

Andy watched Candy's smile. She was so kind, so sincere. Damn.

"Thank you for… helping me," he mumbled.

Candy stood up, took Andy's empty glass and washed it out in the kitchen sink, setting it aside to be more thoroughly cleaned later.

"Nothing's ever easy in Possum Springs, Andrew," she said while working. "We do what we can for each other."

"Can you call me Andy?" he asked as Candy sat back down. "My mom calls me Andrew."

Candy nodded. "Will do, Andy."

"You're not mad that Mae and I are, uh…"

"Why would I be?"

Andy blinked. "Everything?"

Candy was about to get back to her book, but put it back down. This poor kid.

"Andy, no," Candy began. She took a deep breath. "What happened back then was between me, Stan, and your parents. We wanted to keep you children out of it. We let Mae keep being a kid. We wanted her to learn and grow and have as much fun as she could, given the circumstances. When we saw your parents drag you into every meeting, every hearing. Lawyers and stuffy rooms and cheap suits. Every interaction with them… Well, I can't speak for Stan, but I wanted to tell them what they were doing in the process of protecting you, though I had a feeling they wouldn't take parenting advice from me."

Andy saw those long days flash by. Pulled from school. There goes the beaky boy. Cullen's mommy and daddy needed him again.

"I try not to think about all that," he said, quiet again.

Candy sighed. "I imagine it can be hard not to. They wanted the world from you, Andy, but they never let you see any of it."

He realized now. chattrBox. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? That message?"

Candy nodded. "Most of it, dear. You were a good kid, and now you're a fine young man. Be proud of yourself, okay? You went through so much. We're sorry we didn't understand what Mae was going through, what we could have done to keep you and her safe. We're still learning."

Andy sat there, holding himself. Comfort. Only comfort.

"I told Mae," he said. "Now I'll tell you. It's okay. Thank you…" He stopped himself. "Candy."

"Thank you, Andy." Candy stood up, walking over the refrigerator and pulling out the beginnings of a meal. "So yes, to answer your question, I hope you and Mae keep making each other happy. Just be responsible adults, blah blah blah. We'll chat more later."

Andy looked back in the living room, hearing Mae snort in her sleep. "I think we're gonna take it easy today."

"Good," Candy said as she closed the fridge with her hip.

"She's, uh, not waking up anytime soon, is she?" Andy asked.

"No."

"And trying to wake her up is… a really bad idea?"

"You two are very good for each other, but I'll let you in on a little secret. Watch what happens when I start making pancakes."

To small surprise, Mae shuffled into the kitchen once the smell of fresh blueberry pancakes wafted its way into the living room. The hungry trio helped themselves, Mae catching up with her mom and asking about the book she was reading. Andy chimed in with news about a film adaptation of one of the book's stories. Candy made it very clear that she'd like to see that movie as soon as possible. But first, she had to go to work.

This left Mae and Andy alone together again. They started their day by doing the dishes, only after Andy reminded Mae that it would be the polite and thankful thing to do.

They spent the rest of their time playing video games. Mae couldn't process the fact that Andy had never even heard of Demontower, so she brought her laptop downstairs and they sat on the couch together, Mae sitting on Andy's lap, the laptop on her lap, as she showed him the basics. Andy, inexperienced with matters of gaming, was not good at all. He got better every time, though, and when he reached a new personal best, they decided to celebrate by trying that kissing thing out again.

They admitted it wasn't as good as the first time. Starlight had a habit of making everything a little more magical, but they still enjoyed themselves.

Then came Candy back from a short workday. After acting absolutely stunned that Mae did a whole entire chore with the dishes (perhaps playing it up just a bit), she asked them to see her in the kitchen.

She had a question.

"Now that you're both awake, and hopefully listening," she started, "I'm required to do the mother thing and ask if you two are being careful."

"Careful?" Andy asked.

Mae's ears twitched. "Uh, mom? Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Andy was very confused.

"You're both adults," Candy provided before answering, "So I can't exactly tell you what to do, but I can strongly suggest that you two are protected while spending time together."

Andy's eyes were wide. "You want me to carry a gun, or something?"

Silence. Candy and Mae looked at him, then made eye contact with each other for the briefest of moments before breaking out laughing.

Then Mae sighed. "We haven't even talked about doing that, mom."

Andy finally found the page they were reading from. "Yeah, no! This has only been a thing for, like, two days."

Candy rolled her eyes. "That makes a difference?"

Stan came home later, exhausted from an unproductive union meeting. The morale was strong, but the demands were being ignored. Time. Stan said it would take time. And pressure.

After catching up, Mae and Andy excused themselves to Mae's room. Mae stuck her tongue out at her mom when she saw that knowing parental smirk.

Mae's room was a bit of a mess, but Andy didn't care. She gave him a solo electric bass concert, the bird happy to watch Mae at her utmost confidence, even if she played without an amp.

Then came a knock on the door.

Stan was the one who answered.

He opened the door and saw Claudette Cullen, still in her work clothes, close to shooting venom as she shook in a poorly-concealed rage against the backdrop of a setting sun.

"I've come to collect my child," she spat.

Stan smiled and waved, as was the neighborly thing to do. "Good evening, Claudie."

"Where is he?!"

"I'm surprised to see you."

"Bring him here."

"I think there's a leak in our roof. Know where I can get a good deal on some parts?"

Claudie pushed herself past Stan, looking around the cheap excuse for a house for her son.

She snapped her head back at him. "Where is my son, Borowski?!"

Andy was watching one of Mae's relaxation videos. They lay on her futon as they watched colorful bubbles float along the ceiling. She plucked at her bass strings while Andy drew in Mae's journal.

He showed her a Mae-style sketch of the cat playing her bass, looking quite content. Almost peaceful. Eyes closed as music notes emanated from the tiny Mae drawing. She thanked him by kissing him on the cheek.

"I have a lot of drawings of you now," Andy said with a blush, rubbing his beak.

"Oh yeah?" she smirked, letting her heavy bass slowly settle to the floor.

They held hands.

"I'd feel like a creep if I didn't tell you. So yeah, I've been drawing you… a lot." Andy squeezed her hand and hid under his hood. "I was gonna show you a few of them, but then last night happened."

Mae pulled down Andy's hood and looked him square in the eyes. Those onyx eyes…

"Show me later."

They brought themselves closer together.

"What do you wanna do now?" he asked, holding her waist and whispering in her ear.

"Take a guess…" she trailed off, going in for the kiss.

Back downstairs, Stan was catching up with an old friend.

"Please," Stan beamed. "All we ever talk about are the kids. How are you doing, Claudie?"

"Is that Claudie, dear?!" Candy shouted from the kitchen.

"Yes, it is!" Stan shouted back, a little louder than he needed to.

"Ask her if she'd like anything to drink!"

"Okay!" Stan yelled right next to Claudie. He turned to her and asked, "…Can we get you anything?"

Claudie charged up the stairs.

Stan followed.

"Well, hey, if you wanted the home tour, you could have just asked."

"He's with your psycho child, isn't he? What are they doing? They better not be…" Claudie stopped herself, the thought and the mental image making her shudder. She opened all the Borowki's doors, slamming them shut when she didn't find what she was looking for.

Candy had followed after them, keeping up the game as she stepped next to Stan, her husband resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, now that you mention it, I think I know an Andy Cullen. Your son, right?" Stan asked.

"Are sure he's not at home, Claudie?" Candy added, just a hint of spite sneaking through.

Claudie stopped. She stood there in the second floor hallway, looking back at the Borowskis at the top of the stairs.

Why did they have to be so happy together?

"Stop. Just stop, okay?" Claudie coughed. "Please, just tell me he's safe."

"Of course he is," Candy said with all due seriousness.

"Is he here?"

"He's in Mae's room."

"That's our daughter's name, by the way," Stan helpfully pointed out.

Claudie gulped. "Where's Mae's room?"

"Holy shit!"

"Mom…"

Rather quickly, once she got the directions, Claudie had dropped the sorry facade and shot through Mae's bedroom door in the Borowski attic. At this, the newest couple in Possum Springs were quite surprised indeed.

Claudie Cullen stood there in the doorway of Mae's room. She wouldn't dare enter such a place officially. Far too discomforting.

"We're going home, Andrew," Claudie said simply. This was a fact. It was happening.

Stan and Candy pushed past Claudie, standing between her and the young couple on the bed. It was a matter of protection, really, and also to ensure that they wouldn't need to shout behind the incensed elder bird.

Still, the game needed to continue, didn't it? It was going quite well for them, after all.

"Leaving so soon, Claudie?" Stan asked.

"We haven't seen you in so long," Candy added.

Lying there, watching his mother steam and sputter at the taunting of Mae's parents, Andy had begun to more fully comprehend what had happened then and what was happening to him now. Such a conflict, now warped by time and false perception, still fought for the sake of… what, exactly? Who needed this? Who needed any of this hot garbage?

He had himself. He had Mae. He had Mae's friends who he was so excited to get to know better. They seemed like genuinely good people. Exciting people. Smart people. Kind people. He had a job that paid well enough. It was risky now and then, but he always kept his options open and he was happy to explore, learn more. Especially with Mae by his side.

And her parents. They had been nothing but kind to him. They took him in. They gave him food and shelter and said nothing at all negative about any one aspect of being with their daughter. It was all just a part of living.

That's it. This was living. It was happening right now. No fear, no worry. No memories to hold you back in time. Just life. Moving forward. Slow and steady, and with plenty of room to grow and find joy and see everything there was to see.

With Mae.

But it was more than her. She was so much, but there was infinite possibility beyond. A life. A life worth living. Not to be trapped.

He found it. He needed to take it now.

And never let go.

"No." Andrew was stern with his mother. Whether in protest, or in paralyzing fear, he did not move.

Probably both.

"Andrew Cullen, don't make me call the cops!"

Claudie's threat was met with silence.

"You're in our house," Stan so helpfully noted. "If you called the cops, we'd be the ones pressing charges." He stood there, a mix of anger and confusion clear as day on his expression. The time to joke was over now. Claudie was being serious. He needed to be now as well. For himself, and for the children.

"This is a kidnapping!" Claudie practically shot up as she screamed. This was not just a show. It was rage. Increasingly cartoonish rage.

"I walked here," Andy deadpanned.

Mae was listening to all this. What the fuck even was this? Screw this, first of all, whatever this was. This Claudie bitch (Why call her Andy's mom? This isn't how moms are supposed to act.) was lucky. The pills prescribed to her by Dr. Blake had done incredible work in toning down her aggression. She was angry. Damn right, she was angry at all this. For herself. For Andy. For everyone in the fucking room.

But no. No violence now. If Claudie wanted to fight with words, she was gonna fight right back. And Mae knew exactly what to say.

"He's in my bed, by the way," Mae smirked, tilting her head toward Andy, sitting up, crossing her legs, sitting pretzel-legged on her futon.

There we go. There goes Claudie.

The elder Cullen was beyond rage now. There was only so far up a person could go on The Scale of Anger and Frustration before all perceptible emotion could no longer be perceived. Instead, Claudie just stood there, eyes wide, arms at her side.

She was silent now. She had left the room, her pantsuit-clad body still present, but her spirit beyond time, space, and the Borowski's place. Where she had gone, then, was anyone's guess.

Everyone saw this.

It was funny, really. Mae and Andy hadn't even done anything except a little making out. It was nice, but they both agreed that anything beyond that was… a lot? All at once? Relationships are hard, they had said, just before Claudie slammed through the door.

Candy sighed. The game was definitely over. As always, there were no winners. No prizes. No joy. Why? Why fight anymore? There had to be a way to stop the game from being played again. Something good. Something simple. Something that could be done to make everything better.

Just a little.

Candy gasped. Softly, not enough for anyone else in the room to notice instead of Claudie's trip to the great beyond. For the briefest of moments, Candy's eyes had matched Mae's in size. It had to work, right? Maybe, and even if it didn't, she needed to try.

"It's a funny coincidence seeing you here, actually," Candy pondered, looking for the right words. "I had noticed how grown up your son was now. Perhaps it's time for him to break out on his own."

Stan's eyes matched Mae's now too. He turned to his wife. "Dear?"

Candy turned to her husband, Andy, and then Mae. "He has a well-paying job, and I'd say there's room in this house for one more."

Stan smiled. Candy smiled back.

Andy and Mae looked at each other, at Mae's parents, and then back at each other again. Really? Was this really a thing that was being said right now?

"Yeah, actually," Stan said, approaching Claudie. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. He'd just need some help getting things from his old place, wouldn't he?"

"I wouldn't… mind… that?" Andy gulped, still as a stick.

Claude coughed. She was back now.

She was still gone.

"So is that it, Andrew? After all this time, we're done? Just like that?"

Andy nodded, but his body otherwize frozen. Mae snuggled up to him.

Claudie slammed a fist against Mae's bedroom door. It left the tiniest dent.

Mae thought it looked kinda cool.

"That's it!" Claudie screamed, holding a bleeding hand. "I quit. You want to waste your life away with this poor, disgusting family and their stupid hick friends, fine! You do that. See if any of your father's money goes to you now, Andrew. See if anything works out for you." She winced in pain, in her hand and in her ego. "But I guess you're an adult now, aren't you? So these are your choices. I'm done trying to stop you from ruining your life."

Andy said, "…Okay."

And Claudie was gone. A few stomps down the stairs, a slammed front door, and she was gone.

The Borowski home was quiet again.

Mae, of course, was the one who broke the silence.

"You okay, Andy?" she asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

All pressure now released, Andy's body grew limp. "Holy fuck," he whispered. "I just did that."

"It was awesome too!"

"You made her so mad."

"I guess I'm good at something."

"Mae, you're incredible."

For the briefest of moments they had forgotten that Mae's parents were in the room with them. They pulled each other into a hug for a solid thirty seconds, Mae nuzzling Andy's chest as he pet along Mae's back.

Stan cleared his throat, and the couple let each other go.

"Uh!" they said.

Stan put his hands in his pockets. "Let's worry about the details later, okay guys? We gotta get some dinner in us."

"Food…" Mae whispered.

"I'm ordering everyone tacos," Andy said with a nod, finally sitting up and getting out of Mae's bed.

"Tacos!" Mae shot out of bed, arms raised in reverence.

Candy shook her head, leading the group downstairs. "I'm proud of you kids."

A month later, Mae and Andy were holding hands on their way to the Party Barn. It was time for band practice and a bit of cult group therapy with a hint of socialist manuerving. All five of them, Mae, Bea, Gregg, Angus, and now Andy, had perhaps begun a little casual research on cult-related matters in Possum Springs. Perhaps they did a little looking into this so-called Black Goat. Maybe, just maybe, they'd all started working on some sort of plan to be sure their town was free from crappy old capitalist posturings and the outright murder of innocent people.

Of course, if anyone asked, it was just band practice, which was actually going quite well.

Bea had found some old used drums online from a local kid who was pretty much done with them (after his parents made him sell them). After a long day of work and all its frustrations, Bea quite enjoyed smashing, bashing, and crashing with her friends. She even showed Andy a few tricks for making loops on the computer. That bird needed music lessons bad. Life wasn't good yet, but it was getting better.

Gregg and Angus had announced their intentions to leave Possum Springs for Bright Harbor next fall, but only if the cult and all its assorted bullshit was taken care of first. Angus noted, quite plainly, that some things were much more important. Gregg was excited at the prospect of being a spy in Possum Springs. Anti-Cult Crew!

Mae continued to see Dr. Blake regularly. Even if she didn't realize it herself, her friends couldn't help but notice just how much she had changed since that fateful weird autumn. She was smiling, cracking jokes, hardly putting herself down, and she seemed to be expressing her emotions in a much more constructive manner. Through music. Through capitalist cultist bashing. Through graphic design with Andy.

Andy loved living with the Borowskis. He loved the company and the warmth and the blessed messiness of it all. He loved sharing a room with Mae. He loved working with her, being creative with her. He loved getting to do what he loved. With her. He loved his life.

Word traveled fast in Possum Springs. It was a shock to all who knew of The Incident, of Mae Borowski, of Andy Cullen, that the two of them were together now. A couple. A happy one. One that held hands and smooched in public and who told bad jokes to each other and who did so much together.

They spent time apart too, even if the town didn't realize. Andy still needed time for himself now and then. He'd walk the outskirts of Possum Springs, in search of inspiration. Of beauty. Of a life beyond life. He visited his father's grave, a square headstone placed once it became clear that Mr. Floyd Cullen would not be coming back from where he had left. Andy didn't leave the grave any flowers. He didn't ask it a single question. He just told it goodbye.

After that night in Mae's bedroom, while Claudie was at work, he got his stuff with Mae and her parents from his old house. Andy had tried a couple of times to speak to his mom since then. A call. A knock on the door. She would not answer.

Mae still traveled along power lines. She explored. She got into places she probably shouldn't have gotten into. She still said things when she shouldn't have said them. She caught up with the townsfolk, said good morning to strangers who had recently become much more receptive to her salutations.

She wasn't Killer anymore. She was just Mae, the cat who could climb high and sneak a little street art on abandoned buildings. When someone asked Mae why she spray painted a washing machine on one side of the old Food Donkey, she just walked off on the wires, keeping her balance all the while.

It was always balancing, really. Money was still tight for the Borowskis. The house was, as always, the house. Things were looking better, though. Stan even brought steak home one evening. Candy joked that she didn't even know how to cook it. That night, Margaret Borowski and Andrew Cullen took their dinner in their room.

And today, a late afternoon in Possum Springs just a few steps away from the Party Barn, Mae and Andy stood there, holding each other for no real reason, really. It just felt like the right thing to do at the moment.

Mae was about to stand on her tippy toes to give Andy a kiss, but the bird's phone buzzed. A notification. At Mae's protest, Andy checked it. An email from someone he had never heard of before in his life. A potential client?

Wide eyed, he saw the subject of the email, and read the rest of it out loud to Mae.

Dear Mr. Andrew Cullen,

It is with great sympathy that I apologize to you. My son, he who shall not be named, given the circumstances, had contacted you a short while ago regarding rebranding his startup. You see, with my financial support, my son decided, quite efficiently, to make a mockery of our family name.

I won't bore you with the details, so I'll simply say that shortly, within the hour, you will be provided with proper payment for your underutilized services, with interest! Indeed!

I myself am sorry I have no use for your services, but do note that your work certainly does have a spark of inspiration to it. I'm no artist or marketing wizard, but I do know when something catches my eye. Keep up the good work and all that.

"Whoa…" Mae was wide-eyed, stunned.

Andy blinked. "They really do talk like Victorian England fops."

His phone buzzed again.

He had received his bit of cash, it seemed.

Andy looked at the amount, and coughed. He showed Mae the amount, and she coughed as well.

They coughed together.

"Holy fucking shit, dude," Mae so eloquently put it.

"Guh," Andy added.

They stood there, staring at the screen on Andy's phone. Then he put his phone away. Then the young couple looked at each other for a minute or so.

They launched themselves into a kiss, the taste of the success not being quite as sweet as each other. Once they were out of breath, they let go of the kiss, but stood there holding one another.

"We gotta use that money against them. Their own weapon," Mae said with a nod.

"Who?" Andy whispered, brushing his hand along Mae's cheek.

"I dunno."

"Maybe, uh, the band knows."

"Yeah."

"Mhmm."

They stood there in each other's arms. They didn't want to let go. For a few more minutes, they didn't. Then they reached for the Party Barn door, arm in arm.

"By the way, I kinda love you and all that." Mae smirked as she nuzzled Andy's side. She showed him the necklace she had made out of the coin he gave her. A hammer, nail, and some good string did wonders.

"Oh yeah," Andy laughed, showing his, all bent, battered, and beloved. "I guess I love you too, or something."

They said hi to Bea, Gregg, and Angus. They got up with them on stage.

And they played together.

((A/N) Thank you for reading. This was certainly an involved project. I'm not afraid to admit I got emotional over writing certain scenes. So much was written, so much was left out, but everything that needed to be said was said for these wonderful people. I wish them all the best.

Thank you again to Rcw99 for the inspiration. I hope I didn't stray too far from your vision. Thank you to the Night in the Woods developers for crafting a narrative that truly speaks for people as people, not just plot devices. Thank you as well to the 1980 film "Ordinary People," a favorite of mine that I suggest you watch if you like a good family drama and one of Hollywood's few decent portrayals of mental illness. There's even a hint of class satire in there, if that interests you.

As always, be well. Be open. Know you are loved, and keep going.)