Chapter 12

3rd POV

"Remember to be nice to grandma and do all your chores, just because we'll be gone doesn't mean you two should go crazy, alright?" Sarah hugged her two children at the door. Her mother sighed with her arms crossed, a frown on her face as she watched the departure of her daughter and son in law.

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" The youngest, Amber, asked tearfully.

"It's okay princess, we'll be back before you know it." Charles patted the salt and pepper curls affectionately, smiling as he sent a wink to her green eyes. He turned to his son and patted his shoulder. "Make sure to look after your sister and grammy. You're the man of the house while I'm away." Under a mop of copper colored hair, just like his mother's, his son's eyes inherited his condition - the left one a deep purple like his own, his father's before his, and so on and so forth; the right a muddy green like his mother's and sister's. But his son didn't smile like he expected him to, instead he looked thoughtful and like something was bothering him.

"Is it true you're leaving because you're going to look for another kid you had with some other lady?" He finally asked. Amber gasped and their grandmother, Joyce, sighed. Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to maintain his smile.

"Where'd you hear that, sport?"

"I heard you and grandma arguing about it the other night." The thirteen year old looked down at his feet and his father raised his chin.

"Samuel, you do have another sister out there, and I need to go find her." Charles got down on one knee so he would be at eye level with his son. "She doesn't know who I am, and she's probably suffering a lot because of it."

"But why do you have to find her now? You've never left before, she's probably fine." The boy said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"Hey now, I still love you very much, you and Amber and mommy and grammy. But this is something I need to do. You might be right and she might be fine without me, but I need to take responsibility and offer her the choice of having me as her father." This seemed to unsettle the boy more than placate him.

"So, what? Some stranger is going to come live with us and eat our food and stay in our house?" Amber gasped again and grabbed the sleeve of her mom's shirt.

"Is that true?" The eight year old furrowed her eyebrows and Sarah ran her fingers through her hair a few times.

"I don't know sweetheart, that's up to your father and her." She said soothingly. Sarah didn't like it, but if Sophia was truly living in poor conditions because of Christine -all the moves they did in the past few years was a little, if not very, unsettling-, then who was she to deny the poor girl a home with a family member who already loved her without even knowing her yet. But, then again, if she turned out to be just as... off, as Christine was, Sarah would put her foot down and the offer of even visiting their home would be off the table and flushed down the toilet, she could never risk her children's safety like that.

"We really have to get going, we'll call on the stops along the way." Charles gave one last squeeze to his son's shoulders before kissing his forehead and hugging his daughter one last time.

"Have a safe trip." Joyce said through pursed lips, her opinions on his choice to seek out the daughter he shared with his ex girlfriend had already been expressed, and they weren't they most supportive ones. He nodded curtly before picking up the suitcases and stepping outside to their SUV. With their bags in the trunk and a cooler full of snacks, they were ready to head off to their road trip to Colorado.

"Sarah?" Charles couldn't keep his thoughts to himself for very long. They were just barely turning on the ramp that would get them on the highway they needed to take all the way to Colorado.

"Yeah?" She put a small pillow behind her neck and made herself comfortable for the long trip ahead of them.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" His eyes flitted from the road to her furrowed eyebrows for a few seconds.

"I don't know." She admitted softly, settling a reassuring hand on his forearm. "But I do know that this is something you have to do, so I'll support you either way." His forehead smoothed out and his smile softened.

"Thanks, I really needed that. I'm glad I have you here to support me. This is probably hard for you, since I'm chasing my past and bringing up what Christine and I shared, but-"

"You don't have to explain yourself again Charles." She patted his shoulder and reclined in her seat. "Maybe if things had ended on a better note, Sophia would already be in our lives. We were all so young, there's no way we could have known what would happen." Her voice became very small towards the end, and she turned her head to look out the window. "But I trust you, and I know you won't be able to rest until you've found your daughter."

"Thank you Sarah, really." His words seemed so heavy with gratitude that Sarah couldn't bare to voice her worries or doubts.

...

Stan ran down the street, silently cursing himself for oversleeping and not seeing the text sent by his friends to meet them at the Village Inn. He was just a few streets away when he heard them.

"Stan!" He skidded to a halt and turned around, eyes slightly widening. It was Kyle who had called out to him, walking out of Raisins with Cartman, Kenny, Butters, and Jimmy. He swallowed thickly before scowling.

"What do you want, conformist?" He put his hands in his pockets and scuffed a patch of grass with the heel of his shoe. Kyle frowned and sighed.

"Listen, I just want to say something." Stan turned away, but peeked at him from the corner of his eyes, Kyle took this as a sign that he'd listen. "We just wanted to say that," he took a deep breath and sighed it out, "We're sorry." Stan tensed up and slowly turned towards him. "We have no idea what you're going through, and it's unfair for us to push aside your feelings like that. I... We just wanted to let you know that you can take as much time as you'd like, and we'll still be here. Hell, if you want to hang out with us now, we'd love to have you." Kyle's hands were palm up at his aides, both metaphorically and literally welcoming back his bestfriend with open arms.

Stan's eyes were wide, surprised at his bestfriend's words, they meant a lot to him and a warm feeling spread through his chest that he hasn't felt in a really long time. He licked his chapped lips and just as he was about to take a step toward the boy with the green hat, his phone buzzed again. Pulling out the slim rectangle from his pocket, he noticed a text from Pete.

From Pete: are you coming or not? Sent 11:56 am

From Pete: hurry the fuck up Sent 11:56 am

Stan, pursed his lips and put his phone back in his pocket, lifting his eyes to look at his friend who still held his hands out.

"I've already got somewhere I need to be." His voice came out gravelly and he could see the immediate disappointment in Kyle's face. He hated making his friend upset, it was something he tried to avoid to doing since they were kids. "But maybe some other time, just let me know." He looked away and missed the hopeful look on Kyle's face, and the triumphant look on the rest of his friends' faces.

"Sure man, I'll let you know when and where." He gave them one final nod before turning sharply and was about to head off again, before Kenny pushed to the front of their small group and called out to him.

"Wait Stan," his words came out slightly muffled, but Stan could understand him all the same. He stopped and looked over his shoulder to show he was paying attention. "Is Sophia okay? You guys got her out of there, right?" The normally playful boy's eyes were serious. "Karen and I could hear the commotion the other night."

"Yeah, she's okay, Henrietta patched her up." Stan said softly and his shoulders slumped with slight relief as he nodded.

"Karen was worried about her, we both were. You'll tell her that, won't you?" Kenny's blue eyes, a couple of shades lighter than Stan's, stared straight into his. Stan nodded.

"I'll tell her the first chance I get." He turned around and walked a few steps.

"Thanks." Kenny called out to him after a few seconds. Stan turned to nod at him like he did with Kyle before turning around and running off, before he was later than he already was. Thankfully, the Village Inn wasn't too far from Raisins. He skidded to a halt outside the doors and took a few deep breaths before swinging open the door and walking in. The bell chimed and the waitress turned around expectantly before sighing and rolling her eyes.

"They're in their usual booth." She jerked her thumb towards the back before walking off to the other side of the diner, muttering lowly to herself. He walked to where they usually sat and there was a cup of coffee in front of an empty seat. There were two people noticeably missing.

"Where are Sophia and Michael?" He sat down and Henrietta smirked as she closed a small notebook.

"They decided not to come, they stayed at my house to keep an eye on each other." He nodded and looked down at his coffee.

"What's up with you?" Pete raised an eyebrow as he flicked his bangs away from his face.

"What do you mean?" Stan furrowed his eyebrows and stopped bouncing his leg once he realized he was doing it. Firkle was watching him like a hawk, his eyes kept flashing to and fro, taking in the little details as to why Raven seemed so different today. From the flush on his cheeks that could be explained by the fact that he ran here (they could see him through the window), to the way he seemed jittery, as if he was alive with energy and suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

"You look like you got hit over the head or something." Bang flick. "You're wearing a stupid expression." Bang flick. Stan raised an eyebrow.

"You're speaking in tongues." He deadpanned.

"What he means is, your eyes are all shiny, like you might have a concussion or something. And your face keeps twitching." Henrietta rolled her eyes, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. "Why is that?"

What Stan's friends were trying to explain is that he looked noticeably happier. His eyes weren't as dull as they've been the past couple of days, and his face kept twitching because although he made the effort to frown and scowl, the muscles kept wanting to push up into a smile.

Stan leaving the goths was always going to be something inevitable, the process just started a bit sooner than expected is all.

...

Sophia sat on the floor with her back against the freshly made bed, her legs were criss-crossed with a notebook in her lap. She was scribbling down the answers to some homework with Michael sitting next to her, his long legs extended out in front of him. She turned to him as she heard another stifled yawn.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly. "You seem tired." As she stared into his face, she could tell the dark circles under his eyes were worse than usual, looking more like bruises than they usually did.

"I've been going to bed later than usual, it's not a big deal." He shrugged dismissively and reached into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes. She continued looking into his face for a couple of seconds before continuing to write in her notebook.

"Is it your mom and stepdad again?" She asked, not softly, but more tenderly. Knowing it was a sore subject for her friend, she had to approach the subject delicately. He let out a rough sigh and leaned his head down, hiding his eyes behind his curls.

"Yeah." His hand brought a cigarette up to his lips to light. "They make me sick."

"What happened this time?" She finished up her last sentence and closed the notebook.

"I don't get them, one minute they're at each other's throats like a couple of mutts, and the next they're some disgusting lovely-dovey couple, cuddling on the couch like a pair of idiots. I'm not sure which one's worse if I'm being honest." Sophia finished putting away her things in her backpack and turned her full attention to Michael, silently and supportively putting her hand over his shaking one. "And now, her husband keeps asking her what my plans are for the future. Like what college am I going to, or if I'm going to get a job. They got into a big argument when he suggested me moving out once I graduate high school. Mom says I can stay for as long as I'd like while I'm figuring out what to do, but the longer I take to decide, I can tell she's getting impatient. Don't get me wrong, I want to get out of that stupid house, but I don't want to give that conformist asshole the satisfaction of kicking me out." He took a couple of deep breaths after his rant and sighed, frustrated at himself. It wasn't like him to have his dumb feelings pour out like vomit from his mouth, so not goth, but around Sophia it was too easy to forget that and just go on a rant.

"It's okay to not be sure." Sophia started softly. "It's okay that you don't know what to do, we still have more than a year before we're supposed to graduate. I'm sure you'll be able to save up some money before then so you can move out, that's what I've been doing."

Under her bed, well hidden beneath floorboards, old rags, and candy wrappers, was a tin box that was slowly being filled with paper bills, and next to it a few Pringles cans full of spare change. It was Sophia's savings that she intended to put in the bank once she was eighteen and didn't need a parent to come in with her.

"Where would I even go?" He asked softly, the shakiness in his hand dying down to a soft tremble.

"You could always come with me, it'd be easier to split a rent." She said just as softly. Michael swallowed thickly and looked away as his pale skin blushed a splotchy red. Sophia could see his ears and neck flush with color and softly smiled at how flustered he looked. She grabbed one of his shoulders and the back of his head, pulling him down so he could rest on her thighs. "My friends are always welcome wherever I go, you know this." She smiled down at him and from this angle Michael could see her eyes light up and soften at him. She gently plucked the cigarette from his fingers and ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair. "You should rest, you look tired."

It wasn't uncommon for Sophia to be gentle and affectionate with her friends, they had seen Firkle lay his head in her lap in the same way enough times not to question it. Henrietta has since learned to embrace how gently she applies makeup and brushes hair, Pete is always silently grateful when she helps to touch up the dye in his hair, and Michael has gotten used to her weight leaning against his shoulder in their rare moments of peace. Despite knowing this, Michael couldn't keep the blood from thundering under his skin or the swell of something warm in his chest.

"I'll rest when I'm dead." Oh, how he hated the way his voice cracked.

"I know," she smirked at him and his eyes widened at the rare expression. She lifted his cigarette to her lips and slowly sucked. "We all will." She blew the smoke upwards away from his face and his adam's apple jerked suddenly as he couldn't help but swallow, his mouth going dry at what he was seeing.

He quickly shut his eyes and turned his head so he was facing away from her.

'Tch, so not goth.' He couldn't help but grumble to himself, but couldn't find the energy to get upset as he felt slender fingers card through his hair and gently play with his curls.