Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chip was quiet. He came quietly and he left quietly and he was quiet all the while he was there. It happened time and time again. 

During his stay at Miss F’s Home for Unparented Children , the only times that a smile had graced his face was in the company of a loud, confident girl and two friends with blurry faces he couldn’t quite remember.

The orphanage hadn’t been bad in the way you would imagine: it was clean, it was safe, the staff were kind. But, in any orphanage, no matter how highly praised or welcoming, there’s an underlying sort of melancholy that worms its way into the building.

Maybe it was just the principle— a place full of abandoned children could never be too cheery. But nonetheless, Miss F’s was good. If you ended up there it was considered lucky compared to the horror stories of less… inviting orphanages that were whispered through dorm rooms late at night.

The children of Miss F’s were a lively bunch, and there weren't few of them either. It was easy to slip under the radar as someone as small and quiet as Chip.When he had first gotten there, at just 5 years old, head full of stories of cruel matrons and nasty kids, it had been his plan to draw the least attention to himself as possible.

Despite this, Elizabeth Lafayette (or Lizzie as she insisted everyone call her) had picked him out right away. A lively 10 year old took one look at the new kids and immediately decided that she wanted that one . 

She had insisted that she was just ‘making sure he didn’t die’ because he was weak and small and whatever, but Chip thought that secretly, she just liked having someone to mother. He didn’t mind it though; having Lizzie in your corner meant that you weren’t messed with, not that the children of Miss F’s were particularly confrontational anyway, but still, for the first time in his life, he felt safe. 

Lizzie was tall for her age. Her dark curls were often scraped back from her face in an unruly bun that almost never lasted the day. She was noisy and boisterous, announcing her presence with her loud voice and signature burgundy red cardigan you could spot from a mile off. 

One day, after she’d been rummaging through some boxes of old clothes she wasn’t supposed to be in, she had found a similar red coloured shirt and gifted it to Chip so they could match. He had always thought the red looked better against her dark skin, almost matching the various scrapes that constantly seemed to adorn her body, but he wore it anyway, taking pride in the fact that he could match with the girl he looked up to so much. 

Lizzie had always been getting into trouble: going into rooms she wasn’t supposed to be in; snatching extra portions of dinner; or staying up later than they were allowed, keeping the other kids up with ghost stories. Despite all this, she hardly ever got punished— she had a knack for charming her way out of it. This earned her quite the bit of respect among the children of Miss F’s . Chip had always thought himself quite lucky to be the one to spend so much time around her.

He had always envied her confidence but, as anyone would after spending so much time around Lizzie, he too learned how to come out of his shell. Eventually, he began to join in with the mischief and they became a dangerous duo. Chip learnt everything from her, and soon earned himself his own small portion of fame, revelling in the attention. It was the first time he had gained himself any kind of recognition and boy did he savour it. 

Among the increasing number of kids who wanted to be his friend, there had been two children in particular who had stood out: Jay and Gillion.

He remembers the gentle blond boy and the girl whose personality was just as fiery as her orange hair. He remembers staying up late with Gillion, whispering and giggling through the night. He remembers waiting at the gate for Jay to get there. He remembers sitting in church on Sundays, pulling faces at Jay across the room. She would always sit on the other side, with her parents and sister and Miss F herself. In his boredom, he made it his mission to make her laugh, often earning himself a glare from her dad.

Chip smiles, staring at the blank ceiling of his prison cell. He remembers being happy . 

He shuts his eyes before he can remember the next part.

Chapter Text

The rhythm of the train jostles Chip in his seat. He leans his head against the window, taking care not to let the bumps in the journey slam his head into the glass. His leg bounces restlessly by his side.

He takes a breath, calming himself as he has to make the conscious effort to remember he’s allowed to be here. It feels as though every person in the train carriage is staring holes through the back of his head as he looks out the window, but he shakes off the feeling, reminding himself that the quiet conversations between the other passengers were not about him.

The towering buildings of All-Port make their way into view as the train grows nearer, the spires and skyscrapers climbing high into the sky. Chip perks up a bit, not having to force his excitement for the first time in a while. As he gazes out at the approaching city, he can’t help the sense of child-like wonder that washes over him as he gapes at it. 

It’s weird, going to a big city for the first time in his life. It’s weirder being out of prison after so long.

The train pulls into the station and Chip steps out, backpack of his few belongings over his shoulder. He hurries through the station, eager to get outside and see more. He was used to the confinements of the orphanage, and then afterwards, his small town, but the city is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

Everything is loud and new and Chip finds himself stumbling along with the crowd, unsure of where he needs to go or how to get there. He thinks if he were here for any other reason he would enjoy having a look around.

Every building here is so tall, he cranes his neck to get a look at them, in awe of the fact that something like this could even exist. He imagines how many people must be in each one, floors and floors of workers all packed on top of each other. He shields his eyes when the sun reflects harshly off the glass of the structure. The view must be incredible from the top. 

In his awe-stricken state, Chip doesn’t notice himself drifting towards the busy street until a car comes rushing past him. He stumbles back, tripping over the curb and landing flat on his ass on the pavement. The few coins and notes in his pocket come tumbling out onto the concrete beside him along with a scrappy piece of paper and he hurries to pick them up. He scrambles to his feet, glancing around and hoping he wasn’t noticed, before shoving the money back in his pocket. Internally, he curses himself for getting too caught up in the moment.

Chip checks the address on the paper, the familiar scruffiness of John's handwriting making him smile fondly. John was always the nicest warden at the prison. Chip would be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss him. He’ll never forget how proud he had looked on Chip's release day— he’d even scribbled down an address for a place that would take him in. 

Chip debates getting on the bus but decides against it when he remembers he has no clue how to navigate the city. He hails a cab, feeling like an absolute idiot as he awkwardly raises his hand to try and get its attention. He watches out the window as the cab pulls away, navigating through the busy streets of All-Port. 

The roads are chaotic: bikes, cars, and buses pulling out in every direction. He has to resist the urge to laugh when the cab driver slams on the brakes and honks his horn loudly, yelling insults at the driver of the car that cut him up. Chip wonders if everyone drives like that here.

His excitement begins to wear off when the streets outside the window start getting more and more uninviting. They turn onto a long road, the sign reading ‘Loffinlot Street’ . Chip can hear shouted arguments echoing from somewhere he can’t quite pinpoint. It seems to just be the ambient noise around here. 

There are few establishments down Loffinlot Street, it seems to be home to mostly abandoned and unused buildings. There’s a small park— or a sorry excuse for one— just off the left of the road, but it doesn’t look like the kind of place any parent would want their child playing.

Chip swallows down his disappointment when the cab eventually comes to a stop outside a small, four-story apartment complex. He pays the driver, getting out and looking up at the building. Its walls are an ugly cream colour and the windows are almost too dirty to see through. A flimsy looking sign is nailed above the front door, reading Earl’s lodgings . He bites the inside of his cheek before heading inside.

The lobby is quiet and completely empty. Chip’s shoes are loud against the wooden floor as he approaches the front desk. He hesitates, before ringing the small silver bell that sits on the desk. Somebody calls “One second please!” from the back room so Chip waits awkwardly at the desk, glancing around at the various paintings hung on the walls that are clearly only there to fill the space.

After a few minutes, a rather stressed looking teen boy pokes his head out, setting a basket of washing down beside him before giving Chip an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I was just having some issues with the dryer,” he looks red in the face, and the dryer gives a well-timed groan of agreement from the back room. 

“No, you’re good, man. I’m not in any hurry,” Chip assures him, his brows furrowed in slight concern. 

The boy gives a sigh of relief and nods. “Ok, sorry, uh…ok I’m Ollie, how can I help you today?” he stutters out as an introduction. 

Chip smiles, feeling kind of bad for the kid. “Uh I should have a room here? I didn’t sort it myself so I’m not really sure what details I need to give you,” he explains awkwardly, trying to avoid bringing up his recent release from prison.

Ollie perks up, “Oh, you’re the prison one right?” he asks bluntly. Chip winces— there it is. “Chip? Is that your name?” he checks, eyes on the tablet in front of him.

“Yeah,” Chip responds simply. 

“Ok great. You are on…gimme a sec,” Ollie presses some buttons on the tablet, “floor three. There’s two other people in that room.” 

Chip gets his room sorted, pays the small fee, and bids farewell to the teen, making the long journey up the stairs. He’s out of breath and red in the face by the time he reaches the top, leaning heavily off the peeling cream coloured bannister. He ties his long hair up into a low ponytail to keep it out his face. The hallway is similar to the lobby, same ugly cream walls as everywhere else in the building, this time accompanied by a dark red carpet with various coloured shapes in it. It’s about 3 metres long, and completely useless seeing as there’s only one room on the floor.

Chip continues forward down the corridor until he’s standing in front of the blank white door, key in hand. He unlocks the door, quietly stepping inside and shutting it behind him. 

He finds himself in a small entrance area, shoes lined up along the wall and a coat rack hung over the top of a cupboard door. To the left is a compact, u-shaped kitchen, complete with its own breakfast bar overlooking the living room.

The living room itself lies straight ahead from the door and consists of a beige modular sofa, a coffee table adorned with countless rings and watermarks, and an out of date tv in its rightful place atop a bookshelf-TV stand. In the corner hangs a red, worn out looking punching bag.

On the back wall of the living room is a large glass sliding door, leading onto the balcony/fire escape. A hallway which presumably leads to the bedrooms and bathroom stems off to the left from the space between the kitchen and living room. 

On the sofa, sitting with her back to the arm, and therefore Chip, is a pale, redheaded woman scrolling on her phone. She’s wearing a pair of black headphones but Chip can still hear the music despite that. He presumes that she hasn’t heard him.

“Uh hello?” He calls timidly, wondering if the other roommate is here, “I’m new, they said this is my room?”

Chip hears a door open down the hall just as the redhead turns around and shows her face and he pauses in taking his shoes off, opting to just stare dumbly at her instead. “Jay?”

Jay looks equally as shocked, “Chip?” She stands, resting her headphones around her neck. A tanned man with dyed green hair and grown out blond roots pokes his head around the corner of the hallway, cheerily exclaiming, “Chip!”

Chip shakes his head, lowering his rucksack to the floor and stepping round the breakfast bar to be closer to them both. “Hold on. Gillion? You look so…different.”

He gets a better look at them both. Jay with her fair skin and familiar fiery red hair. Freckles pepper her face and shoulders, which are left exposed from her white tank top, and her stormy blue eyes stare straight through his head. And Gillion with his now green hair, almost like seaweed, and his piercing, pale blue eyes contrasting perfectly with the dark jacket he’s wearing.

Gillion chuckles, “You look different. Your hair is long.” He gestures to the long ponytail making its way down Chip’s back.

“Your hair is green!” Chip pauses for a second, squinting, “…blue?”

“I’d say teal,” Jay pipes up. Gillion shrugs.

“Ok what the fuck? You guys are my roommates?” Chip asks, not quite able to get his head round the whole situation.

“Apparently so,” Jay replies. Gillion nods.

Chip can’t believe it. How the hell have they all ended up in the same place despite being so far from home? “Damn.”

“Wait,” Jay sits back down on the sofa, looking up at the two of them, “they told us our new roommate just got out of prison. You went to prison?”

Chip cringes, “They told you?”

Jay raises an eyebrow, “Yeah? I mean— that is the kind of thing you tend to want to know when someone’s moving in with you,” She gives him that familiar look she would give while explaining something obvious when they were younger. The look that says ‘could you get anymore dumb?’ It seems not much has changed.

Chip sighs, “Yeah I guess that makes sense.” He tries to get away with saying as little as possible, but Gillion and Jay both give him an expectant look. He really doesn’t want to talk to them about this.

Chip resumes taking off his shoes, picking his bag back up as he mutters, “I just got into some trouble after I left Miss F’s. It’s not a big deal.”

Jay raises an eyebrow and Gillion shoots her a look, presumably telling her not to pry.

“How is she by the way? Your grandma,” Chip asks.

Jay scowls, suddenly defensive, “She’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence and Chip coughs awkwardly, “Well uh, I’m pretty tired— long day travelling you know? So I’m gonna go find my room and stuff.”

“I’ll show you to your room,” Gillion offers quickly and Chip nods, following him down the corridor.

The corridor has five doors, two on either side and one at the end which is probably a storage cabinet of sorts. Gillion gestures to the first two doors on either side, “Left is the bathroom, right is Jay’s room.” He then gestures to the other doors, “Then left is my room and right is yours. Oh and that’s just a cupboard for cleaning things, don't worry about that. We keep the vacuum and stuff in there.”

“Cool, thanks,” Chip goes to open his door, but Gillion places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He lowers his voice, “Chip.”

Chip turns, looking over at the still slightly shorter man. “Uh yeah?” He asks awkwardly, a bit weirded out.

“Please be patient with Jay. She may be a little…how do I word this? She hasn’t had the best life. Neither of us have. I presume you haven’t either.” You have no idea, Chip thinks.

“Just— it might take her a little while to warm up. Don’t take it personally. Give her time.”

Chip nods, “Yeah sure.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence before Gillion removes his hand from Chip’s shoulder and steps back. “What a coincidence that we’ve all ended up here,” Gillion smiles and makes his way back to the living room. 

“Yeah,” Chip mutters as he opens his door. The room is relatively small and box-shaped, and rather plain. There’s a single bed pushed up against the right wall and an empty desk next to it. To the left, there’s a white wardrobe with some drawers at the bottom and a window with a set of shut blinds that are doing nothing to block out the light. He might as well be back in a prison cell, but he supposes it’s better than nothing.

Chip leaves his rucksack on the floor, settling on his front on the bed and pulling the pillow over his head to block out the light. There’s so much he has to do to get back on his feet, but for now it couldn’t hurt to have a nap. 

Chapter Text

Chip wakes up to a knocking at his door. It’s evening now, and the room is finally dark. He can still hear the sounds of the city outside. He’s unsure if it’s ever really quiet in a big city like All-Port. Sitting up, he groggily rubs at his face, calling out, “Yeah?” 

The door opens and the yellow light from the corridor pours into the room, making him squint. Jay stands in the door frame. “Sorry if I woke you,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, “I made mac and cheese. If you want any.” She shuts the door and leaves before Chip can get a word in. 

Chip frowns. He gets what Gillion means about her acting weird. She didn’t seem mad though; more awkward than anything. He shrugs to himself, and stands, stretching the sleepiness out of his body. 

He makes his way toward the kitchen, the smell of food making his stomach rumble as he realises he hasn’t eaten since this morning. Jay is in the kitchen, dishing up two plates. She looks up as he enters the room, giving him a small smile and pushing one of the bowls towards him, “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Chip smiles back, taking the bowl and sitting down on the sofa.

“Gill not here?” he questions, stuffing the mac and cheese into his mouth.

Jay shakes her head. “No, he’s out working,” she explains, joining him on the sofa and switching on the TV.

Chip frowns, checking the time on his phone, “It’s quite late for work isn’t it? It’s like nearly half eight.”

Jay shrugs, “He needs the money.”

“Fair,” says Chip, before his eyes widen in realisation and he mutters, “Shit I need to get a job.”

Jay doesn’t say anything, just huffs a small laugh and focuses on the TV. “This mac and cheese is so fucking good by the way. You’re like a pro chef or something,” Chip compliments, his mouth stuffed with food.

Jay gives him a disgusted look, “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” She smiles, “Thank you though.” 

“Oh please,” Chip swallows, “You sound like your grandma.”

Jay tenses up beside him and a weird look settles over her face.

“Yeah,” she says simply, voice cold. Right, Chip thinks, sore subject.

He stays quiet, awkwardly eating the rest of his food before washing up his bowl and heading for the shower. He’s relieved to be free from the tension of the living room.

Despite the shower being fairly grimy, to Chip it’s a luxury. The hot water washes over his skin and it feels like proof this is a fresh start. He travelled 6 hours to get here and now he’s back with his old friends after all this time. Surely this is where things finally start to look up for him.

===

Gillion got home from work an hour ago. He gratefully accepted the mac and cheese Jay had put aside for him, and now he sits on the sofa, eyes trained on the tv. Jay sits beside him, in her usual spot. It’s around 11:45 pm now and the room is dark apart from the bright light that comes from the TV. It hurts his eyes when the rest of the room is dark like this, but they’ve had this argument so many times that Gillion has just given up.

Eventually, Chip comes trudging through, dressed in more comfortable clothes for sleeping now. His brown hair has been freed from its ponytail, and hangs loosely over his shoulders. He tucks it behind his ear. 

“Hey,” Chip greets sleepily, it seems travelling really has taken it out of him. “I’m just grabbing some water and then I’m heading to bed.”

There’s no response from Jay.

“Cool,” Gillion answers simply, because if he didn’t the silence would have been deafening.

“Oh by the way, I don’t have my own shampoo and stuff yet so I just used the one that was in there sorry. I’m probably gonna go shopping tomorrow or something,” Chip explains as he fills a glass at the sink.

Gillion smiles, “Oh that’s mine don’t worry about it. I don’t mind at all.” He thinks it’s funny how worried Chip is about messing with their apartment despite the fact that he lives here too now.

Jay looks between them both. Chip gives a thumbs up, tucking his hair back behind his ear after it fell forward, and disappearing back down the corridor.

They hear the door click shut and then Jay turns to him, “So…Chip.”

Gillion chuckles, raising an eyebrow, “Chip. What about him?”

“This is like— weird isn’t it?” Jay asks, frowning.

“Yeah but isn’t it nice? We’re all back together,” Gillion suggests.

Jay grits her teeth, lowering her voice, “Gill, he went to prison. We don’t know what for. He could’ve done something awful.”

Gillion shakes his head. “Don’t jump to conclusions. You do not know his situation,” he reminds her.

She sighs, “Yeah alright whatever.”

===

The next couple of weeks were awkward, but things got better as time went on. It did take Jay a while to warm up as Gillion had said but eventually, conversation flowed easier, and Chip found himself thinking he really was lucky that they all ended up here. He managed to find a job as a waiter in a nearby restaurant. The place was a shithole and the pay could be better but it was better than nothing. Most people didn’t want to hire someone who’d just been in prison for four years.

He began learning how to cook, picking up some tips from Jay here and there. He bought the essentials: shampoo; deodorant; a toothbrush— things like that. And once he saved up enough from his new job, he treated himself to some new bed sheets and some blinds that actually blocked the light out. He started personalising his room to make it feel less like a literal prison cell.

It’s difficult and frustrating and confusing to try and live independently after never having had the chance to, but he tries, even on the days he wants to tear his hair out.

One day, on a Saturday morning when none of them are working, Chip walks past the bathroom to find Gillion standing at the mirror with a look of deep contemplation on his face. 

“Gill! What’s up, buddy? You look like you’re deep in thought,” Chip leans against the doorway as he talks.

Gillion sighs, “I really need to redye my hair but I also cannot be bothered.” He turns around to face him and Chip realises how grown out his hair is, the blonde creeping back out and the green fading as time goes on.

“Huh. I hadn’t really noticed until now,” he comments, before perking up and suggesting, “I could do it. Uh I’ve never dyed anyone’s hair before but it can’t be that hard. We’ve got a whole day free anyway.”

Gillion bites the inside of his cheek and thinks for a long moment before giving in, “Alright, but I’m bringing in Jay for supervision.”

Chip grins and crosses the corridor to Jay’s room, knocking on the door loudly until she responds. “Jayyyyyy,” he calls, praying she’s not still asleep. She always sleeps in so late when she has the chance.

“What?” a frustrated sounding Jay calls back. Ok she probably was sleeping then.

“We’re dyeing Gillion’s hair. He says you have to be there for ‘supervision’ or whatever.”

“Oh,” Jay replies, the annoyance instantly draining out of her voice, “Coming!”

About ten minutes later, Jay emerges from her room, grabbing a bowl of cereal from the kitchen and joining them in the bathroom. She hops up onto the counter, dangling her legs over the edge as she speaks with her mouth full of cereal, “Alright. What’re we doing?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Jay,” Chip says in a high-pitched voice, mocking her for all the times she’s told him off for it.

“Shut up,” Jay replies, opening her mouth wide so Chip has to see the contents of her half chewed cereal.

Chip grimaces, turning away, “Gross!”

Chip wasn’t paying much attention as Gillion got the stuff ready, but then a bowl full of green paste is put in his hands. He stares down at it, raising an eyebrow, “This shit looks radioactive.”

Jay snickers from behind him, “Exactly my reaction when I first saw it.”

The next hour or so is spent chatting and bickering as Jay talks him through how to do it. Gillion sits on the toilet seat with an old towel already covered in dye draped over his shoulders. He cringes, “I am putting so much faith in you guys right now. I am so glad I can’t see the mirror from here.”

Jay laughs, “Relaaax. It’ll look fine.”

Chip lets out a grunt of frustration when his hair falls in front of his eyes and obscures his vision. His gloved hands are covered in green dye so he can’t fix it. “Jayyy,” he whines.

“What,” Jay deadpans.

“Why are you already mad at me? I haven't even asked anything yet,” Chip says defensively.

Jay tries to hide the smile that creeps onto her face, “What is it?”

“Do you mind putting my hair up? I can’t see and I’ve got dye all over my hands,” he asks apologetically.

“Fine,” Jay replies, but her facade has dropped and she doesn’t sound half as pissed as Chip imagines she was trying to.

She hops off the counter, pulling the hair tie off her wrist and gathering Chip’s hair into a low ponytail at the back of his head. “Like that?”

“Yeah that works,” Chip answers, keeping his head still for her, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jay says happily, before she frowns slightly and asks, “You’re always trying to get your hair out of your face. Why don’t you just get it cut?”

Chip screws up his face and sucks on his teeth, aware he can’t avoid this topic. “It’s uh— basically when I got out of Miss F’s I didn’t end up around the… nicest group of people. They were like— basically they—” he sighs, “I was in a gang. They made me buzz my hair so going to get it cut makes me, like, nervous and shit,” he trails off towards the end of his sentence, mumbling the last part but Jay and Gillion still hear him.

“That’s fair,” Gillion pipes up for the first time in a while. He’d been mostly silent while Chip was doing his hair, just listening to the two of them chat.

“I could cut your hair,” Jay suggests, “My sister used to run a hair salon so I know a thing or two.”

Chip tilts his head to the side, contemplating, “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t.” Jay says sincerely, before grinning evilly and kneeing him right in the back of the leg, almost causing him to fold backwards and fall but he catches himself on Gillion’s shoulder. “Now get back to work so we can cut your hair.”

Chip scowls, “I can’t get back to work if I’m on the floor can I?”

Gillion laughs, a new green handprint now on the towel over his shoulders. 

===

A couple hours later, the three of them are in the living room together, Gillion on the sofa and Chip on a chair pulled in from the kitchen, Jay standing behind him as she cuts his hair. Gillion’s in charge of cooking tonight, and a delicious smelling curry is simmering on the stove as he watches a random film they had decided on after about twenty minutes of back and forth and idly scrolling Netflix. 

Gillion glances over to the kitchen to check on the curry, but instead his eyes fall on Chip and Jay. They’ve dragged the two chairs from the breakfast bar as close to the edge of the lino as they can. On one, sits Chip, the other being used as a makeshift table to hold Jay’s supplies.

Gillion smiles at the sight; Chip’s head is tilted forward, his eyes drooping and his shoulders relaxed— he’s almost asleep. It’s nice to see him no longer so on edge around them. Jay looks extremely focused, clearly not wanting to mess up. She glances up and catches Gillion’s eye with a pointed look, apparently having picked up on his sappy smile. He just shrugs and gets up to tend to the food.

As he walks by the two of them to get to the kitchen, Chip is awake just enough to raise his head and watch him as he passes. But then Jay runs a hand through his now much shorter hair, fluffing it up and checking how it looks, and Chip leans into the touch. Jay lets out a small snrk and Gillion knows that she’ll take the piss out of him for this later, but for now she just murmurs, “Almost done.” 

Chip mumbles back something incoherent before dropping his head back down and promptly passing out. Gillion and Jay both chuckle. “Chip?” Jay asks quietly, “You there?”

There’s no response.

“Oh he’s out ,” Gillion remarks, giving the curry a stir. Jay laughs quietly.

He thinks it’s sweet and rather funny, the way Chip can fall asleep almost anywhere. He turns his back to the two of them, focusing on the food. 

There’s a pause, and then Gillion quietly offers, “This is nice.”

Jay looks up at the living room in front of her, hesitating, “This is nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, with a curt nod.

Gillion’s heart aches seeing the two of them so happy; seeing Jay acting so much like— his breath catches in his throat— so much like a sister again. He presumes this is a side of her that for a long while was reserved only for Ava.

He never knew Ava personally, but once Jay had opened up enough to tell her story, he mourned her all the same. Nobody deserves to die like that: alone and scared and with no dignity left.

Gillion finds himself mourning many people he never met: Ava; his parents; even the versions of Chip, Jay, and Edyn that existed in the years they were apart.

He shakes his head, ridding the thought from his head as he stares down at the curry.

===

They eventually wake Chip up when it’s time to eat, Jay having finished doing his hair shortly after he fell asleep, and Gillion watches, grinning, as he pulls out his phone, checking what it looks like.

Chip’s hair is a lot shorter now, coming to an end around his shoulders. The front is shorter, layers of brown framing his face. It looks so much thicker now, no longer weighed down by its length, and it fluffs up quite a bit, adding some volume. Gillion almost wants to run a hand through it, the texture being much different to his own wavy hair.

Chip grins wide, turning to Jay excitedly, “Jay! It looks so fucking good holy shit!”

Gillion joins them in the living room, placing down his own plate of food on the coffee table and returning a second later with two more. He flicks on the light switch as he enters.

“You look good, Chip!” he compliments, handing a plate to him, smiling.

Chip beams. “Thank you both,” he says sincerely.

“No problem,” Jay replies, taking her plate from Gillion, making direct eye contact as she turns the light back off  before getting herself situated on the sofa. Gillion rolls his eyes. Worth a shot.

Chapter Text

Chip was in the courtroom. He felt sick. He had felt sick since he’d heard the gunshot; the feeling having wedged itself deep into his gut without any plan to leave. His hands were clasped together to stop them from shaking, almost like he was praying. He didn’t have much faith left in a god after the state of his life, and even if he did he didn’t know what he would pray for. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

He looked over at the jury: the ordinary people who would decide his fate. He hoped he would be found guilty for the sake of everyone he hurt. Maybe that’s what he should’ve prayed for.

He stared at an audience of 30 or so people who all stared back at him: family members; or friends maybe. Some of them had nothing to do with it at all. He could feel their eyes burning against his skin.

Amongst the other, irrelevant faces, his eyes honed in on Lizzie, much older than the last time he saw her, but unmistakably Lizzie. Her hair was slicked back into a bun, and she was wearing clothes that were far too formal for the Lizzie he knew. Her eyes were absent and red rimmed from crying. The nausea in his stomach intensified. What had happened to her?

His eyes widened. What was she doing here? She couldn’t see him like this! She couldn’t see him here, on trial for the loss of a life! Their eyes met and her top lip curled up in something that looked like disgust, her brows creasing. It was agonising not being able to explain himself to her. He pleaded with his eyes, begged for her to understand something that couldn’t be properly explained even with words, and certainly not with a look.

She shook her head, before standing up and leaving the courtroom. The pain of being looked at like that by the one he called a sister was too much to bear. The large, carved, wooden door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang and Chip flinched at the sound, squeezing his eyes shut. 

When he opens them, he still can’t see, surrounded into total darkness. And then, in front of him appears Lizzie. Lizzie at 9 years old, Lizzie at 14, Lizzie at 23 from just a second ago in the courtroom. Was it a second ago?  

They all stare at him with that same, intense look of disappointment and disgust and a part of Chip’s heart shatters. “What did you do?” they hiss in unison, with a mix of 9 and 14 year old Lizzie’s voice. There is no voice for 23, as he never got to hear it. Her mouth is moving, but no sound comes out.

“What did you do?” they repeat, louder this time. Chip’s breathing picks up. He tries to stumble back away from them but he can’t move a muscle, his body frozen. He can’t even shut his eyes, unable to do anything but confront this. What is this? Where the fuck is he? 

“What the fuck did you do, Chip?!” an adult’s voice rings out above the others, clear and certain. Angry . It knows what he did. It’s not Lizzie’s voice, it couldn’t be, just something his brain puts there to mess with him.

Something is ringing, sharp and loud, drowning out all his thoughts as he finally slams his eyes shut tightly, pressing his hands over his ears. It’s all too loud and too much and they’re still chanting at him over the ringing and—

Chip wakes with a start, sitting up straight in a panic. He looks around frantically, finding himself sitting on the sofa in the living room, a blanket over him that wasn’t there when he fell asleep. He runs a hand through his hair and tries to take deep breaths as he rests his forehead on his knees.

He’s not back there. He’s safe in his apartment and he has been for about a month and a bit now.

“Chip?” a voice asks, alarmingly close. His head snaps up, eyes focusing on the lifeless face of the woman who died in the alleyway four years ago. She looks as if she just crawled right out of the grave to torment him, her eyes glazed over and mouth agape. Sangria red blooms from her shoulder, bleeding into her clothes. 

Chip’s breathing hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he sees a concerned looking Jay in the woman’s place. “Fuck!” he hisses shakily.

“Chip? Are you okay?” Jay asks, eyebrows creased in concern. Her arms are half outstretched, paused between the two of them in uncertainty.

Chip tries to even out his breathing again, nodding. “Nightmare,” he explains simply, “I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?” she questions.

“Yeah. I’m good,” Chip insists, albeit unconvincingly. This has been happening for four years. He can deal with it. He gets up, leaving the blanket he now recognises as Jay’s on the sofa and heading to his room.

“If you say so,” he hears Jay mutter as he walks away.

In his room, he throws on some fresh clothes before heading to the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face. He grabs his wallet and keys and unlocks the door. “I’m going out,” he tells Jay, who just gives him a concerned look. He shuts the door and locks it behind him. 

It’s probably a bad idea to go out right after that, but he has to get out of the house. He can’t stay cooped up in there with images of dead strangers and long lost sisters rattling around his head. He just has to get some air.

===

Jay ambles along the familiar path of the graveyard. She had left the house shortly after Chip.

It’s a humid day, the warm, late afternoon air hanging heavy around her as she inhales deeply. It smells like a mix of wet wood and pollen, the late days of April bringing both rain and flowers, patches of colour popping up across the area. Large trees create an arch over the main path, speckled with pink and white blossom, before splitting off into less organised groups. The graveyard was an oasis of green amongst the grimy outskirts of All-Port.

She comes to a stop in front of her sister's grave, pushing down the familiar pang in her chest. This is a happy visit. The headstone reads: ‘ Ava Ferin. 1998—2020. Daughter, sister, friend to all.’

Jay is older than her now, by two years. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how weird it is to be older than her big sister.

Ava loved All-Port, and always came to visit to see her girlfriend. She wanted to move here one day but never got the chance. She always told her family to bury her here, not in Featherbrook, something that pissed their dad off majorly. 

Jay sits down beside it, the ground only slightly damp beneath her. She opens her bag, pulling out the brown paper bag containing two cookies from the batch she had baked the day before. It’s a special recipe— one she would often make with Ava and her mom when they were younger. She eats her own, and leaves one beside the headstone for Ava. 

No doubt in a few days it will have been picked at and eaten by various bugs and insects, but Jay likes to imagine that maybe they’ll crawl down to Ava’s grave and deliver it to her. It’s a stupid thought, but it makes her smile nonetheless. Smiling is getting easier these days. 

Gillion was out with Edyn this morning, the two of them spending time together in a much better way than this. She’s been invited to go with them a couple times but she politely declined. She doesn’t think she could deal with that, seeing the two of them so happy together. Of course it’s not their fault, and in no way does she resent them for it, but it’s a lot for her to handle. 

Right now, Ava and Jay are as close as they can be, but six feet still feels like six miles. 

She thinks it might be easier if she could believe Ava was in Heaven like her family does. The thought that she’s watching over her is a nice one, but not one she can bring herself to consider true. 

She shakes her head. and tries not to get too caught up in her thoughts, focusing on the space around her. The grass is vibrant green, the last drops of morning dew still hanging off the stalks, and the birds are singing their cheery tune as always, making the distant sound of traffic that little bit less jarring. There is life, even where there is death. There is Jay, even without Ava.

She sits for a while, wondering distantly how Lizzie’s doing now that Ava’s not around, before she decides to head home before it starts to get dark.

===

Air is absolutely not what Chip gets as he finds himself drunk out of his mind in a cramped, sweaty bar. He’s not sure what number drink he’s on, but he finds himself forgetting why he came here, instead just dancing with strangers and yelling nonsense words to songs he doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. It was late afternoon when he left and it’s dark outside now but he doesn’t care enough to try and find a clock.

All the windows are open, spilling the noise of the bar out onto the street, but it hardly does anything to cool it down. Chip’s clothes stick to his body, his skin slick with sweat and his face flushed. 

When he finds his pint glass empty, he makes his way to the bar, staring confusedly when the bartender looks oddly like Gillion. He takes a seat at the bar, waiting for her to finish her conversation with a white haired man who was wearing rather classy clothes for a place like this. 

When she turns to serve him, instead of ordering he blurts out “Do I know you?”

The bartender frowns, looking him over before a look of realisation crosses her face. “No,” she answers, “but I know you.”

Chip just stares, mouth open, eyebrows creased. That didn’t make sense. “What?”

She laughs, smiling in a way that makes the corners of her eyes crease. She really is pretty. “I’m Gillion’s sister, Edyn,” she explains, “and you are…Chip?”

Oh. He didn’t remember Gillion having a sister. “Yeah, that’s me,” he mutters as he frowns, trying to recall her from Miss F’s.

This piques the interest of the white haired man sitting beside Chip. He raises his eyebrows, turning to face him. “Wait— Chip?” 

Chip looks up, “Hm?”

The man opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again, almost like he’s trying to figure out the best way to word what he’s about to say. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but— you wouldn’t happen to know an Elizabeth would you?” he asks. 

Chip’s eyes widen. Surely this is a coincidence. Lizzie can’t also be living in the city. And why would this random man know her anyway. 

Despite his doubt, Chip finds himself absentmindedly asking, “Lafayette?”

The man nods, “Yes. Do you know her?”

Chip waves an arm dismissively. “Yeah I know ‘er. Used to,” he mutters.

The man hums thoughtfully, before sliding over a piece of paper, “Her number. And her address. If you ever want to get back in touch.” Then he shakes his head. “My apologies, I should have introduced myself. My name is Caspian,” he says, far too formally.

Chip nods, “Chip.”

The corner of Caspian's mouth quirks upward in a smirk, “I’m aware.”

Chip thinks he knows more than he’s letting on because this doesn’t quite make sense but in the state he’s in, he just nods, slipping the paper into his pocket without question. He doubts Lizzie would ever want to see him again after what happened anyway.

He then turns his attention back to Edyn. “How do you know who I am if we’ve never met?” he asks.

Edyn smiles in that knowing way that older sisters do, “Gillion talks about you a lot.” For some reason, something flits in Chip’s stomach. 

“But how did you know what I looked like?” he pushes. 

“He’s shown me pictures,” she explains, sharing a look with Caspian as she tries not to laugh.

“Oh.” He guesses that makes sense. “Wait, when did he get pictures of me?”

Edyn just shrugs, giggling to herself as he walks away to serve somebody else. Huh. Weird.

Chip turns back to Caspian to find him looking him over in worry. He places a hand on Chip’s shoulder, prying the empty glass from his hands, “You should go home.”

“In a bit,” Chip dismisses.

Caspian frowns. “No. Now,” he says firmly. 

Chip can’t be bothered to argue and, truth be told, he could do with a long sleep. “Yeah alright, fine,” he agrees with a yawn as he stands up, just a bit wobbly on his feet. 

“Do you want me to walk you?” Caspian asks.

“No no I’m good,” Chip insists, shrugging his coat back over his shoulders.

Caspian sighs, “Alright. Get home safe.”

Chip wonders why this random man cares so much.

===

The front door finally opens at 11:30 and Gillion sighs in relief. Edyn had messaged him a while ago and said she’d seen Chip at the bar she works at and to make sure he got home safe. Jay said he’d been out since about four pm. He’d spent the last hour or so sitting on the sofa, waiting for him to get home.

He looks over when the door opens and sees Chip standing in the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold of the night outside and just looking generally quite rough. He smiles dopiley when his eyes focus on Gillion. 

“Gill,” Chip greets, way too loudly for this time of night, “hey.”

Gillion shushes him. “You have to be quiet. Jay’s asleep,” he tells him, retrieving him from where he was standing absently by the door and ushering him over to the sofa. Chip stumbles, his legs barely working and Gillion thinks it’s a miracle he made it home. 

They sit down, and Gillion raises an eyebrow when Chip sits much closer to him than usual.

“Oh. Sorry,” Chip whispers, still somehow just as loud as his normal talking volume. 

Gillion facepalms. At least he was trying. 

“Edyn called. She told me to check you got home alright,” Gillion explains.

Chip frowns, “Why’d she do that?”

“Because she saw you extremely drunk in a bar by yourself,” Gillion answers.

Chip’s eyes flash in recognition, “Oh, yeah. I’m not that drunk though.” Gillion gives him a look. 

“I got home!” Chip protests.

Gillion sighs. “I was worried, Chip.”

He is worried. He’d just spent an hour waiting for his friend to come home, unsure where he was or who he was with, and he comes home so drunk that he can barely walk.

Chip looks genuinely apologetic. “Sorry,” he mumbles, resting the side of his head against Gillion’s shoulder. He looks down at his hands in his lap, playing with his fingers. 

Gillion frowns. Chip is never this touchy. He usually prefers to keep himself to himself, outright avoiding hugs and putting up with a shoulder touch here and there if he absolutely must. The weight feels nice against his side.

He experimentally wraps an arm around Chip’s back and smiles when he leans further into him. He wishes Chip was like this more often. The only times he’s ever seen him like this was right now and when Jay cut his hair a few weeks back.

He brushes soft brown hair out of drowsy eyes, “Why were you out for so long anyway? Jay told me you left the house late afternoon.”

Chip yawns. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, words slightly slurred and Gillion realises just how exhausted he looks.

“You should get some sleep,” Gillion suggests gently, “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah yeah in a bit,” Chip brushes him off, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to wake himself up.

Gillion frowns. Chip could sleep anywhere, anytime. It was odd for him to want to stay up, especially when he was clearly this tired.

“Chip, you’re already practically falling asleep. Why don’t you just go to bed?” he asks, quite confused by whatever’s going on in Chip’s head right now. 

Chip sighs, hands having found their way to the drawstrings of Gillion’s hoodie, twirling them around his fingers. “It’s just— nightmares n’ shit,” he mumbles, his eyebrows creased as he stumbles over the words like he has to force them out of his mouth, “Bad at the minute.”

Oh . That makes sense. He wishes he could help more. If there was a way to take away all of Chip’s pain he would do it in a heartbeat. The same goes for Jay but— there’s something different in the way he views Chip. It’s an odd thought but he thinks he loves him. Not thinks, knows . Poor Edyn has to put up with him talking about Chip almost every time they meet up.

He intends to keep it to himself other than that though: this isn’t what Chip needs now. He needs time and stability while he gets back on his feet and this would complicate things far too much.

It might kill him to wait on the sidelines but he’ll do it. He’ll wait for him.

“Oh Chip,” he says, leaning them both back against the sofa, because what else can he say? He has no idea what happened to Chip. His heart hurts both for Chip and because he wants to know what Chip has been through. He wants to be able to map out every inch of his soul: every stroke of happiness; and every splotch of sorrow.

He wonders why he feels everything so much, yet knows so little.

“Do you want to stay here?” Gillion asks, unsure of what to do but wanting so desperately to help.

Chip nods and mutters what is presumably an agreement because his eyes slip shut and he falls asleep almost immediately. 

Gillion sighs in relief as Chip drifts off. He’s going to be so tired for work in the morning. Chip’s lucky to have a lay in.

Chapter Text

Jay braces herself and pushes open the door to her childhood home. It’s always been bittersweet coming back here. There’s too many memories of Ava haunting the place.

She can hear the sounds of chatter from the dining room as she takes her shoes off at the door. “Mom, Dad, I’m here!” she calls, not surprised when she doesn’t get an answer.

Making her way past the stairs and down the corridor, she resists the urge to go take a peek in Ava’s room just to remember what it’s like. She pokes her head in the dining room and greets the ten or so family members sat at the large dining table before making her way to the kitchen, where she finds her mom preparing dinner by herself, frantically trying to dish up too many plates that won’t even fit on the counter.

“Oh hi, honey,” she greets with a stressed smile, arms shaking as she tries to work out where to put down a large dish of lasagna. She’s more frail now— something that Jay thought she would never see on her mom.

Jay swoops in and takes it off her hands, gesturing to the few plates that had already been dished up. “You take those to the table so we have more space and I’ll do the rest of these,” she directs.

Her mom nods gratefully, “Thanks, Jay. You’re a star.”

Her mom re-enters the kitchen and leans against the wall with a sigh, a tea towel slung over her shoulder. “How have you been, Jayjay? Still enjoying All-Port?” she enquires.

“Yeah it’s been good, Mom. I’m still saving up to buy a proper house, but the place I’m at isn’t all bad. I’ve got some good roommates. Had a new one move in about two months ago actually,” Jay chats away as she dishes up dinner, purposefully going a little slower than necessary so she could spend more time with just her mom.

This is as close as she’ll get to normal family time now. With Ava gone and the tension that’s always hung about the family ever present, this is a breath of fresh air and a welcome one at that. 

There’s a pause in the conversation and Jay pays close attention to the sensations around her: the smell of food; the sound of conversation from the dining room; the colours of the vibrant flowers in the vase in front of her. If she were to shut her eyes, she could almost pretend she was in her own house, preparing dinner for a family that didn’t make her want to tear her hair out.

She thinks about it often. How would she decorate the house? What colour would the walls be? Would Chip and Gillion be there? Would she have a partner? Would she have children? She’d like a big kitchen— one with lots of counter space to cook whatever she wants and enough space on the walls to hang pictures of whatever she wants.

She’d like family. A real one.

Tears prick her eyes and she blinks quickly, snapping herself out of her thoughts. “Where’s Dad?” she asks, suddenly aware she hasn’t seen him yet.

Something darkens in her mom’s face. “He’s in the backyard,” she explains, “talking to Drey.” 

Well that was never a good thing. Her dad and her uncle never got along well. Jay and her mom share a look, both knowing this will definitely cast a shadow over the dinner. 

Jay sighs, before forcing a smile. “Right. Dinner time?” she asks, picking up two of the plates.

“Let’s go,” her mom answers, taking the other plates and entering the dining room.

Jay sets down the plates at the table and takes a seat in her usual spot, gritting her teeth when she sees one of her cousins sitting next to her in Ava’s old seat. Her mom and dad sit opposite her, and at the head of the table sits her grandma, scowl ever present on her face. She was never the same ‘Miss F’ at home. 

Jay stays quiet through most of the dinner, resisting the urge to scoff at some of the comments made by her family members.

 After about forty minutes, Jay’s name is called by her dad and she looks up at him across the table. “Yeah?” she asks, steeling herself for whatever comes next.

“How’s life been off in that big, fancy city?” he enquires, and Jay can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s trying to start something. She doesn’t get why he has to bring this up every time she comes over.

“It’s been alright,” she answers simply, prodding at her food.

“Really?” her dad makes a show of sounding surprised, “What have you even got to do over there? I thought you only moved there because of her.”

Jay’s eyes snap up, catching her Dad’s own, amber and almost glowing, like a fire she doesn’t miss living with. He raises an eyebrow in challenge and Jay’s nostrils flare. She can’t believe he’s bringing Ava into this. 

She puts down her knife and fork, sitting up to look at her dad properly. The whole table is silent, listening to the conversation. “We’re really still tiptoeing around this after four years? Ava’s dead. You’re allowed to say it.”

Her dads expression changes immediately, a stern look replacing the stupidly smug one that was there before. “If you had any kind of respect for your sister, you would understand,” he declares, brows furrowed. 

“I don’t think respect is refusing to even say her fucking name!” Jay retorts.

“You don’t swear at my table,” her dad scolds, raising his voice.

“I don’t give a shit!” she says, mostly just to piss him off more.

He slams his hands down on the table. “That’s it,” he snaps, “Go to your room.” Jay can’t help the laugh of disbelief that bubbles up out of her.

“I am 24 years old. You can’t send me to my room,” she says incredulously.

“I just did. Get out,” he insists. 

Jay’s eyes flick over to her mom to find her staring down at her plate, seemingly trying to ignore the scene in front of her. She has to focus on the anger so she doesn’t start crying in front of everybody. Why couldn’t she just stand up for her one time?

“No!” Jay explodes, “You don’t get to do that anymore! And do you know what? I’ve had enough!” Her dad tries to yell over her but she persists, raising her volume higher, "Ava was my family too and I mourned her too, and do you remember? When she died and mom was away in All-Port sorting out her burial and we were at home and I needed you—”

“What are you on about?” her dad cuts in, and Jay has never been more frustrated. All eyes are on her and she’s desperate for just someone to understand her point.

“Stop!” she pleads, “Stop and just listen to me for once in your fucking life, please .” She tries speaking at normal volume again, staring straight into his stern eyes, braving the flames.

“Dad, I needed you,” she hates the way her voice breaks, “And you weren’t there. I know it was hard for you to lose her too, but you threw yourself into your work and hardly acknowledged me. You were never at home. I had to do everything for myself.”

“What, did you think I was going to baby you forever?” her dad asks patronisingly.

“I was young!”

“You were 20. That’s old enough.”

“My sister died !”

“My daughter died!”

“See? You never fucking listen to me!”

“Because you’re not saying anything worth listening to!” he barks.

There’s a tense moment of silence, neither of them daring to break eye contact and lose the stare down. Jay’s breathing is heavy, and she wills herself not to cry. Nothing could be worse right now than crying in front of her dad.

He looks down at his plate.

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed here in the academy?” he asks quietly, rubbing at his temples, and Jay wonders if they’re about to have a breakthrough.

“Because it’s not what I wanted, Dad. It never was,” she explains. He looks back up, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face.

“Yes it was?” he says, irritation already creeping back into his voice, “You always wanted to be in the police force, just like all of us.”

Jay shakes her head, “That was what you wanted.”

Her dad scowls and it seems he’s run out of arguments because all he can say is, “No. You always wanted that!”

Jay wants to tear her hair out in frustration. This is pathetic.

“Don’t tell me what I want!” she snaps. He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off, continuing.

“You wanna know what I’ve been doing in All-Port all this time? Putting myself back together! This family is fucked up! And I’m done with this conversation,” she pushes her chair out from the table, standing up heading for the door.

She can’t list every reason that drives her to walk out: every time she was ignored; every time she was left at home to fend for herself; every time she was made to feel like shit for talking about the things she liked and the things that she wanted. 

She can’t think too much about the month after Ava died, when her mom was away and her dad was working and she was left all alone in a house that was too quiet.

“Jay Ferin, if you walk out that door, you no longer have a place at this table,” he bellows.

Jay scowls. “Good. I don’t want it. You can just replace me like you did with Ava,” she spits. Before she leaves, she turns back one last time, looking over her shoulder at her dad and hissing, “Congratulations, Jayson. You just lost both your daughters.” And she slams the door before she can see his reaction. She knows that was cruel and possibly unneeded, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Her and her father do not make each other good people. 

She laces up her shoes, rubbing the tears out of her eyes, and scowls when she hears the muttering through the door. “ She’s crazy ,” someone states. “ Way to overreact ,” another person comments. Fine. So what if she’s crazy?

She casts one last look at the house, down the corridor and to the small fraction of the kitchen that she can see at this angle, committing the coloured tiles to memory. The makeshift sign above the doorway reads ‘May’s Kitchen’. Jay and Ava made it when they were younger, with a scrap piece of paper and some coloured felt tips. She thinks about taking it with her, scribbling out the M and replacing it with a J, and sticking it above the door of the kitchen when she buys her own house.

She can’t take that away from her mom though, so she tears her eyes away from the sign, stepping out the front door and closing it behind her. The cool air of the outside world washes over her and she pauses for a moment on the bottom step, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath.

The door opens behind her and she grimaces. She’s had enough of screaming matches for one day. 

However, she’s surprised to hear her mom’s voice instead. “Jay, wait.”

“Mom, I can’t stay,” she tells her, preparing to be bargained with. But when she turns around to face her, she sees her holding out a Tupperware container.

“I know. I have leftovers,” her mom says gently. 

And Jay breaks down, finally allowing herself to cry, finally allowing herself to be a daughter. She sniffs, taking the container from her mom’s hands and nodding, “Thanks.”

She hesitates for a moment before closing the gap between them, pulling her mom in close and hugging her tightly. She rests her head on top of wispy grey hair, strands of white threaded through it and— god, when had she gotten tall enough to do that? She still feels like a little girl, trembling and sobbing in her moms arms, but she doesn’t quite fit the way she used to.

Taller than her mom and older than Ava. Time moves too quickly.

Her mom pulls back, placing her hands on Jay’s shoulders. “Is this goodbye?” she asks softly and she looks so ready to accept that and Jay understands what it is to be a mother: acceptance. Pure, unconditional love.

Jay shakes her head, her cheeks wet with tears. “No, no. Not for you. You can visit,” she leans back into the embrace, burying her face in her mom’s shoulder, “Please visit.”

Her mom kisses her cheek. “Of course I will,” she promises, and Jay’s never been more relieved.

Jay steps back out of the hug, attempting to calm herself but her efforts were futile. Through her sobs, she tucks the container under her arm and fumbles with the clasp of her necklace for a second before taking it off, pressing it into her mom’s hand.

“Take it. I only wore it for family dinners anyway,” she confesses.

Her mom tucks it into her pocket, giving Jay an almost cheeky smile, “I suspected that.”

“Tell Drey he can visit too?” Jay asks hesitantly.

Her mom nods, “I will.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of them and Jay realises that she has to walk away now. She goes in for one more hug, squeezing her tightly before she turns around. 

“You were brave today,” her mom reassures, “I’m proud.”

Jay nods, her back to her mom as more tears slip down her cheek.

There’s another few seconds of quiet and Jay wishes she could stay in this moment forever: stood on the steps of her childhood home with her mother by her side and the knowledge that she had made her proud. It doesn’t matter what her family thinks of her, her mom was proud and that’s all that matters.

“I’m sorry,” her mom says suddenly, right as Jay was about to walk away. She freezes. Her mom continues. “I’m sorry it’s like this. It’s not fair. I should’ve—” she chokes up as she speaks, her voice thick with tears, “I should’ve been a better mother.”

And Jay has to bring a hand up to her mouth to stop the sound of her heart breaking spilling from her lips. What an awful sentence. She just shakes her head, still looking out at the street in front of her.

“It’s impossible to choose between my daughter and the man I love. I wish I could have you both together. But I know that’s not fair on you.”

Jay’s never heard her mom cry like this before. She doesn’t get how anyone could love a man like her father but she nods anyway, “I understand. It’s not your fault.”

Jay finally steps down onto the pavement, wrenching her feet from where they felt cemented to the ground. “Bye, Mom,” she says, hating how final it sounds.

“Be safe, Jayjay,” her mom replies, with so much care in her voice that she could never find a way to convince herself she stayed out of hate for Jay. She just loved her family, as did Jay. It was a shame they were different families.

As she walks away, she looks back too many times for her liking, but she doesn’t try to stop it. She allows herself to grieve.

She’s grown accustomed to grief, acceptance is the last stage.

===

Chip has had quite an uneventful day. He woke up quite late to find Gillion had left for work, but not without leaving a note on the kitchen counter for him reading ‘ leftover pancake mix in fridge’ along with a smiley face and a little doodle of a fish. 

He made the pancakes, and spent the rest of the day sitting around and staring at the piece of paper Caspian had given him the night before. Surely Lizzie wouldn’t want to speak to him. Not after the last time he saw her. Maybe she had never even wanted anything to do with him in the first place. Once she was adopted, she never visited like she said she would.

He’s still thinking about this when he hears the front door slam and then, shortly after, the violent rattling of the chain the punching bag in the living room hangs on and the frustrated grunts of Jay down the hall. She’s not meant to be back tonight. He takes it the family dinner didn’t go well then. 

He cracks open his door and listens again for a moment, the noise of the chain having stopped after a minute or so. And then he hears sobbing, something he’s never heard from Jay before, and he hurries down the hall.

He finds her, puffy-eyed and red-faced, with her back to the wall and she looks so devastated to have been found like this. She only glances up at him for a moment before she hugs her knees tightly and presses her head between them.

Jay cries much like himself, teeth bared to the world, as if the act of being vulnerable is something that requires conflict. She cries like there is so much more fueling her than just sorrow.

Jay is angry . Almost as angry as him. It’s something they are forced to carry with them—a smouldering coal in the place of their hearts, waiting for a spark to ignite it into an inferno at any moment. It loves with warmth and rages with scorching fire.

Chip’s comes in the form of smaller outbursts, frustration at stupid things that shouldn’t piss him off as much as they do, but it’s better than keeping it inside and losing his shit at Gillion or Jay. He’d never tried to hide it, so his roommates knew what they were getting themselves into before they got too close to him. He is a walking fire hazard and he’s used to that by now.

Jay’s seems to be hidden, tucked away, a glittery gel pen drawn heart on a sheet of paper stapled over the cavity in her chest. Her rage is demonstrated in quiet, behind closed doors. Maybe she’s scared of burning people too. But today, the fire has caught, and the paper has been burnt away. And Chip isn’t afraid of fire anymore. Not after carrying it all this time.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, not even hesitating before pulling her into a tight hug. Three months ago they would never have done this, but the bridge has been crossed now, and Jay is almost as much of a sister to him as Lizzie was. He rocks the two of them back and forth and rubs her back, letting her know that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

They sit like that for a while, in the dark on the floor of the living room, not a single word spoken between them. Jay’s whole body trembles and Chip thinks nothing is worse than seeing her like this. Their position is awkward and clumsy, but neither of them care to readjust. They stay there like two pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite fit together, but chose to anyway.

Despite their differences, despite their bickering, despite all they hide, they chose each other. Chip thinks this is as close to family that he will ever get. Maybe this is family.

Once Jay’s sobs have calmed down into slightly better exhales and sniffles, Chip pulls back a bit, suddenly aware of whatever it is that’s jammed awkwardly between them. He raises an eyebrow in confusion when he realises that it’s a clear tupperware container holding a slab of lasagna. It has a sticky note with a simple heart drawn on it stuck on top.

“The lasagna was that good huh?” he jokes, finally breaking the silence. Jay laughs wetly. “Ok but seriously, do you wanna tell me why you’re sobbing with a tub of lasagna in your lap?” he tries to take on more of a serious tone this time.

“Mom gave me leftovers,” she explains, voice shaking.

“Did the dinner not go well?” he enquires. He doesn’t know much about Jay’s family, but he’s pieced together that they haven’t always gotten along that well.

Jay wordlessly shakes her head.

He gives her a squeeze, leaving time for her to say more if she wants to.

“I walked out,” she confesses with a sniff, “for good.”

“Is that good or bad?” Chip asks, unsure of how to react.

“Good,” Jay responds, “I think. It’s just— God, it hurts, you know?”

Chip nods. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“My dad— he’s a great cop but he’s an awful father now. He just doesn’t care . And I want him to so badly. I want to be able to tell him about my day again. I want him to be happy for me, that I’m doing what I want for once. But he just doesn’t give a shit anymore,” Jay explains, looking at her lap. “And when Ava died, I think he forgot that I was grieving too. It was like I didn’t even exist to him.”

Ava . That name sounds so familiar to Chip, but he can’t put his finger on why. He doesn’t think this is something Jay has mentioned before. So why was the name ringing a bell?

“Who’s Ava?” he asks tentatively, hoping it’s not too much of a sensitive subject.

“She was my sister,” Jay swallows, her lip wobbling before she says the next part. “She was shot. Four years ago. It’s why I moved here. Because she always wanted to.”

And just like that, the tender moment between them is shattered, and everything makes sense. He understands now, why on bad days he can’t stop thinking about how alike they look. He understands the inexplicable unease he felt as seeing Jay again when he first moved in. 

Because Chip killed Ava.

And Ava was Jay’s sister.

Years of learning that it wasn’t his fault come undone in seconds and all he can do is pull Jay in for another hug and try to slow his breathing, muttering a “I’m sorry,” and waiting for her to pull away again.

What does he do? What the fuck does he do? He can’t tell her, can he? It would mess everything up. All the months of rebuilding trust and friendships, just gone like that. He cannot tell her. For everyone’s sake.

When Jay finally pulls back, stumbling to her feet and announcing that she’s retiring to her room for the night, Chip follows, exchanging goodnights before quickly shutting his bedroom door. His body feels numb as he calmly sits cross-legged on his bed. And then he starts to cry, and he can’t compose himself anymore.

His breaths come quick and ragged, like they’re forcing their way out of his mouth, like he doesn’t deserve the air in his lungs, and his face is wet and hot with tears. He presses a hand tightly over his mouth to try and quieten his sobs through the thin walls. Just through the wall, inches away, lies the woman who he took everything from.

He thought this was behind him. All he can think is why. Why me? Why her? Why now? Why? Why? Why? 

Maybe all that stuff he was told in church as a child was true. Maybe he has committed the greatest sin of all and taken a life. And this is his punishment. Maybe it will always follow him.

He can remember Ava now. He can remember her before the alleyway, when the world was still painted in the rosy shades of childhood. He only ever saw her on Sundays, across the room from them with the rest of the Ferin family. Her face was angelic in the prismatic light from the stained glass window. He wishes that was the last time he saw her.

He wishes he didn’t see the same face bloodied and lifeless.

Chapter Text

On his eighteenth birthday, Chip was awoken, as he usually was, by the sounds of around nine other teenage boys entering the hideout. Most of them went elsewhere during the day, it was only Chip and Reuben who lived there permanently, the ringleader and his protégé. He was practically nocturnal at that point, and usually woke up early in the evening when everyone else turned up. It was easier to get out and about at night after all the trouble they’d gotten themselves into, and Chip liked the sense of routine.

That day, or night more like, Reuben declared that they would be celebrating Chip’s birthday, and he remembers the warmth that rushed through him because he thought that they cared. 

He had spoken to Reuben a week or so before, while they were both trying to sleep. He was scared to bring it up to him, but with no one else to confide in, he told Reuben how he was turning eighteen next week, and how he felt like he was wasting his life, and how he wished he’d had another chance. He felt cheated out of a good life. He’d never had a chance in the first place. 

Reuben had scoffed and told him not to worry so much. Life was unfair and things sucked, but he was here now. He had friends and a roof over his head and he had him. Reuben would always keep him safe. But Reuben wasn’t Lizzie .

Chip still thinks that despite how aloof he tried to act, Reuben felt that way too. It was why he was so bitter. The world had failed the two of them. Reuben was angry, but he was also just a kid, only a few years older than Chip. And despite the way he acted most of the time, there were still moments of good, and Chip tries to hold onto that because if there's even a little bit of good in Reuben, then there’s enough in Chip for him to be redeemable. He hopes.

Maybe subconsciously he will always be defending him.

They went out, one of the boys about a year older than Chip brought a bag full of alcohol, far more than he could afford. Chip knew it was probably stolen, but pretty soon he’d drunk enough to not care anymore. They spent most of the evening sitting at the top of a half pipe in the small skate park, daring each other to climb over the railings and scaring away all the other kids that tried to show up. 

It was fun for a while. Being out with his friends was the most freedom he ever got.

As it got darker though, Reuben announced that he’d be back in a bit, with a knowing look to one of the other older boys who got up to go with him. 

He wishes he could say it was a blur, but he remembers that night in full clarity, every sickening detail.

When Reuben returned, he led the rest of them into the quieter part of town. They rounded a corner into an alley and Chip immediately felt sick at the sight. He almost couldn’t comprehend it, sure he was dreaming for a moment before he felt Reuben’s hand on his back and it made him want to tear his skin off.

A woman, Ava Ferin, was sitting on the floor, shivering, her ankles and wrists tied and her wrists bound to a drainage pipe on the wall. Her mouth was gagged and her hair was dishevelled and she was covered in bruises and scrapes all over. She was wearing a party dress. It always makes Chip the saddest to think that she was going out with her friends. A golden cross necklace hung round her neck, and Chip wondered if she still had faith after this.

She slowly raised her head enough to meet Chip’s eyes and she scowled at him but he remembers how petrified she looked underneath that. He wonders if she saw how scared he was in return.

He still doesn’t understand why . He’ll never know what the fuck the other guys were thinking when they did this. There was no reason, which almost made it worse.

The reality of the situation hit him as a gun was held out to him and he shakily took a step back. This was wrong. This was really really wrong.

This was what Reuben and the others did and he knew that all along but he’d always tried to ignore it. He’d always tried to pretend like nothing was happening and everything was fine but it wasn’t fine. He knew that. He knew that. How many people had died because he was too selfish to speak up? Because he would rather live in his stupid fucking fantasy world where everything was fine and the only thing he had close to family weren’t murderers?

While he’d been enjoying himself stealing from corner stores and graffitiing bins and signs, this is what everyone else was doing. They were monsters. They were evil. They did this for fun . Even now, it makes him feel nauseous to think about. 

He didn’t stick around long enough to know how it went down. He just bolted the second he had the chance, pushing past everyone else and running as fast as his legs would take him. He remembers the shout of “Pussy!” from some voice he couldn’t pinpoint before the deafening sound of the gunshot.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst sound that Chip has ever heard in his life is the way the group snickered and spoke so nonchalantly right after. He wanted to throw up then and he still does now. How he ever convinced himself they were good people he doesn’t know.

He didn’t turn back to see if Ava had survived. He didn’t turn back to see if anyone had followed him. He didn’t turn back, he just kept sprinting, the sound of his shoes smacking against the concrete drilling into his head with every step.

He ran until his lungs felt like they would pop, until he felt like he would throw up, until his legs were shaking with every step and he dragged himself into another alley and pressed a hand over his mouth to quieten his sobs. He did throw up. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was his body trying to rid itself of his sins. 

He remembers how he felt like he was dying, and then thinks it was selfish to think that when Ava really was dying in a different alley in a different part of town. His head hurt and his legs hurt and he was sure the world was ending, at least his world, and he just wanted to go home so badly. He wanted to go home, even when that had never existed for him in the first place.

He prayed for Ava that night. And he prayed for forgiveness. He’d never really believed in it much but he thought that was what you were supposed to do at times like this. If God was real, he was sure he was frowning down at him. Maybe it’d be better if he just smote him.

He didn’t sleep, and in the morning he dragged himself straight to the police station, and confessed everything.

And at 18 years old, his world did end. But almost five years later here he was, futilely putting the pieces back together, only for it to crumble in his hands.

If he tells Jay, it’s all over. All of this. She’ll hate him, and Gillion will hate him, and he’ll have nothing left. All of this time he spent rebuilding his life will have been for nothing.

And Jay. She’d never trust someone again. She’d never make another friend. Who would she be able to trust if she learnt one of her best friends was responsible for the murder of her sister? 

In fact, it’s a miracle she doesn’t already know. He can’t waste that luck. He can’t risk her leaving again. Like all those years ago at Miss F’s when she suddenly stopped showing up with not so much as a goodbye.

It’s selfish. It’s really fucking selfish and he knows that, but Jay cannot find out. Ever.

Chapter Text

It’s late May, about three months since Chip moved in. He’s been able to ignore the whole ordeal with Jay and Ava, and he feels like he’s learning to live again, not just survive.

Sure, it’s always in the back of his mind, eating away at him, but it was better for everyone not to tell her. Bringing up Ava would only make Jay upset. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Chip, Jay, and Gillion make their way down the street, the sun casting shadows behind them. It’s almost summer now, and it shows. The air is hot and stuffy, the only relief coming from the gentle breeze that runs through Chip’s hair every now and then. The sun is out, the birds are singing, and Chip thinks it’s a beautiful day.

After about a five minute walk down the road, they arrive at the gate to the park. It’s practically an empty field surrounded by trees with a fenced off children’s park in the corner. Litter lines the concrete path that runs through it: wrappers and cigarettes and all the stuff you don’t want to see near a place for young children. It’s a shitty place, if he’s being honest, but it’s nice to get some air. 

Chip pushes open the gate. The metal feels warm against his skin and the flaking paint scratches his palm slightly. “After you,” he says with an overly dramatic flourish of his hand, holding it open for Jay and Gillion and following through after them. 

“Why thank you, kind sir,” Jay responds in a posh voice, curtsying. Gillion laughs and Chip tries to push down the sappy smile that fights its way onto his face at the sound.

They find a nice spot in the grass, setting down a picnic mat and a bag full of food. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” says Chip, “I can’t lie, it’s a shithole, but still.”

“We don’t tend to come here very often either,” Jay says, rummaging through the bag and tossing a pack of cocktail sausages at Chip over her shoulder, looking back to snicker at him. Chip just barely catches it, glaring at her. “But it’s a nice day so,” she shrugs, “might as well.”

The three of them chat as they eat, sitting cross legged on the blanket in the middle of the park. The blanket is much too small for the three of them, so they’re half sitting on the grass anyway. There’s no one else there, except the occasional biker or dog walker making their way down the path.

There’s a lull in conversation once they’ve finished eating, and Chip puts his hands behind his head and lays back, staring at the sky. He can feel the grass against his forearms and he sighs happily.

“Are you enjoying yourself there?” asks Gillion, with a terribly fond look on his face that Chip can only look at for a second through fear of turning bright red. This was a new development, and one he had no idea how to deal with. Three months ago he didn’t even know how to cook a meal for himself, and now he has to navigate whatever this feeling is.

He keeps his eyes trained on the clouds above. “Yeah, man. It’s nice,” he pauses, “This is really nice.”

Gillion hums thoughtfully in response and Jay cocks her head, raising an eyebrow. “You’re being weirdly sappy,” she points out.

Chip frowns, “Oh shut up. It’s just— do you guys remember our spot? At Miss F’s.”

Jay nods and Gillion smiles and Chip doesn’t miss the way it reaches right up to the arch of his eyebrows and the crinkle of his eyes. “I remember,” Gillion confirms.

‘Their spot’ was a small clearing in the trees right down at the bottom of the piece of land Miss F’s stood on. There were flowers and a log to sit on and even a rope swing they had found which they fought tooth and nail to keep secret from the other kids.

On days like these, when the sun shone brightly over their heads, the three of them would trek down there in their free time, often with a ball tucked under one of their arms, and they would play and chat for ages. Usually they played tag or hide and seek, which Chip found himself quite good at, faster than the other two and easily able to tuck himself away in places no one would find him. But Jay, with her keen eye, usually won in the end. 

Sometimes, Lizzie would come down there with them, and lift them up into the taller parts of the trees they couldn’t reach on their own, and tell them all about the interesting stuff she learned in the class for the older kids. 

When the three of them got tired, they would lay in the grass together and talk about anything and everything. Jay often told them about what it was like to go to a real school, or brought her favourite books from home to show them and Gillion would show off all the latest tricks he learnt with his football.

Chip grins as he reminisces. 

Jay begins talking about some confusing sci-fi series she’s watching, going into intense detail about the plot and characters, and Chip shuts his eyes and listens, throwing in the occasional comment here and there when he gets the chance. He loves listening to her talk with such passion and excitement in her voice. When he first moved in, she would barely speak a word to him.

A few minutes into her spiel, Chip feels hands in his hair and cracks open an eye in confusion. He sees Gillion sitting beside him, braiding a tiny plait into his hair. He’s engaged in conversation with Jay so Chip just shuts his eyes again and listens to the two of them chat.

The sun is warm on his face and the feeling of Gillion’s hands weaving patterns into his hair is far too nice and why does this always make him feel so tired? He’s never going to turn down a chance to have a nap though. He lets himself relax, his body going completely still and his breath evening out.

Just as he can feel himself about to drift off, Jay pauses her rambling, nudging him with her foot. “Are you sleeping?” she asks.

Chip opens his eyes and glares at her. “Not anymore,” he huffs.

Jay laughs, clearly not bothered about preventing his sleep in the slightest. “Dude, why are you always sleeping? I swear you’re in hibernation or something,” says Jay.

Chip scowls, “God, can’t a guy take a nap in peace. Besides, it’s Gill’s fault. He’s making me tired.”

And Chip immediately knows by the way Jay’s eyes light up in possibility that he has majorly fucked up. She’s never going to shut up about this. 

“Does having your hair played with make you sleepy?” she asks with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“No!” he protests, cursing the way he feels his face heat up from embarrassment.

“It does because you got all tired when I cut your hair! Awwwww that’s so cute,” she taunts and Chip is aware he will never live this down.

“No! I— oh my god, shut up,” he groans.

“Okay I’ll be quiet so sleeping beauty can get her rest,” she says teasingly and Chip shoots her one last glare before shutting his eyes.

Gillion is on his third plait and Chip is just about ready to pass the fuck out so that’s exactly what he does.

===

About a week later, Chip, Jay, and Gillion are getting ready to go out together. They’re heading down to the bar Chip found himself at about a month ago, but he’s glad it’s for fun this time and not to try and forget about his horrible nightmares.

“Jay, will you be ready in five?” He calls through to the bathroom, where Jay is curling her hair.

“Yeah,” she calls back, slightly muffled and Chip presumes she’s holding her hair in her mouth.

He checks himself in the mirror, running a brush through his hair. He’s wearing baggy grey jeans and a maroon button up shirt, much like the one Lizzie gifted to him when they were little. He hums along quietly to the music that’s playing from Jay’s phone in the bathroom.

He’s done getting ready, so with nothing to do he wanders across the hall to Gillion’s room to see what he’s up to. The door is open and he pokes his head in, finding Gillion standing in front of his mirror, leaning in close to check his face. 

He’s wearing beige cargo pants and a white t-shirt with a sage green jacket over the top. The colours go perfectly with his hair and Chip’s heart skips a beat when he sees the small amount of black smudged around his eyes, tucked into the waterline and just barely noticeable but still there nonetheless. He looks really good.

Gillion perks up when he notices Chip enter the room. “Oh hello, Chip,” he says happily, stepping away from the mirror and turning to face him, looking him over. “I like your shirt,” he comments. 

“Oh uh— thanks. You look nice too,” Chip cringes at how awkwardly that came out, “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

“Oh yeah, Jay gave me her old one when she saved up enough to buy all her nice makeup,” he answers, “I don’t use it very often but thought I might as well today since we’re going out.”

Chip nods, “It looks good.”

Gillion grins. “Thank you! I could do yours if you’d like?” he questions, cocking his head to the side.

Chip thinks it over. They have a couple spare minutes before they leave the house and he has no reason to say no. “Yeah sure, why not?” He answers with a shrug.

Gillion nods excitedly. “Okay cool. Sit down,” he says, gesturing to his bed. 

Chip sits down cross legged on the mattress and Gillion sits in front of him, making it so that their knees are touching. “Look up,” he instructs, taking Chip’s face in his hands and leaning in close. Chip now realises what a mistake he made by agreeing to this, his face heating up. He prays that Gillion won’t notice.

He does as Gillion says and looks up, glad he doesn’t have to be staring directly at him in their close proximity. He freaks out a bit when he feels the pressure of the eyeliner pencil close to his eyes and scrunches his face up, pulling back a bit. It makes him panic, having something so close to his eye.

Gillion chuckles, gently pulling Chip closer again. “Relax,” he says lowly, brushing a thumb over the skin just below Chip’s right eye and who is Chip to deny him? So he relaxes into the hand cradling his face and looks up again, ignoring the wave of butterflies in his stomach. His skin tingles under the feeling of Gillion’s hands as he lets him apply the eyeliner, this time not moving away.

After he’s finished both eyes, Gillion pulls back and, still holding Chip’s face, stares intently, making sure it looks alright. Chip doesn’t know where to look. A few seconds later, he smiles. “Done,” he announces, but he doesn’t move away, instead leaning back in slightly as his eyes run over Chip’s face. Chip wonders if he can feel how hot his face is beneath his hands. 

Gillion runs a finger over the scar that goes from Chip’s jaw and up onto his cheek. “How did you get this?” he asks quietly, curiosity clear in his voice. Chip opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by Jay asking, “Are you guys ready to go yet?” She’s leaning against a doorway, with a stupid smirk on her face and Chip cringes internally and hopes she hasn’t been standing there too long.

===

Gillion is chatting with Edyn and Caspian at the bar, and Jay is off somewhere in the club with some random lady named Anastasia or something, and Chip is by himself guarding their table, drink in hand. This sucks.

To be fair, he could go sit with Gillion, but he doesn’t think he can face talking to Caspian and Edyn after the state they saw him in last time, and he doesn't want any more questions about Lizzie so he’s stuck here. 

The multicoloured lights flash brightly in his eyes and every song blurs into one from how similar they sound, the sound of drums and synths invading his ears. A few people had tried to strike up conversation with him, but were immediately discouraged from the glare he sent their way. 

In short, Chip does not enjoy clubbing very much. Especially when he’s been left by himself.

As he watches the mob of people on the dance floor, he wonders if this makes him an adult now, going out like this. Of course he’s an adult, he’s 22, but has he ever really felt like it? He still feels like the same kid he was at Miss F’s, and the same trouble-making teen he was with Reuben. 

Eventually, Jay does come back, notably drunker than before and grinning like a maniac. She says something to him which can’t be heard over the music, seemingly forgetting how loud it is in here.

“What?!”

“I said dance with me!”

“Not a chance.”

“Please?”

“No way.”

“Don’t be boring. Come on,” She tugs on his arm.

“Oh fine, whatever,” Chip gives in, letting Jay pull him over to the dance floor. 

The music is even louder right next to the speakers, and he can feel the best of the music through the floor. Jay is grinning wildly, grabbing Chip’s hands and forcing him to dance with her. He laughs at the way she flails and swings, his own face breaking out into a smile. He twirls her round and round, the action causing her dress to flow around her ankles and her hair to bounce in its carefully styled curls.

It’s the most fun he’s had in a while.

Does this make them adults? Or does this make them kids again, playing and laughing and twirling and singing badly to songs they don’t know. 

Maybe clubbing isn’t so bad.

===

The walk home takes much longer than needed in their drunken state.

Chip lags behind the other two, dragging his feet on the concrete as he trudges along. “How much longer?” he groans.

“Umm maybe about five minutes,” Gillion replies, “It’s not that far.”

This is the worst news Chip has ever received. “This walk is so longggg,” he complains, slowing his pace even further. 

Jay rolls her eyes. “The faster you walk the faster we get there,” she points out, making an annoyingly good point.

Chip doesn’t respond. Of course she’s right, but he doesn’t want to walk faster, he wants to lay down on the floor and go to sleep.

“I could carry you?” Gillion offers, and Chip frowns.

“No you can’t,” he denies.

“I can, you’d be easy to pick up.”

“No, I’m taller than you.”

“I work out,” Gillion shoots back, with almost a challenge in his eyes.

Chip has run out of arguments and getting a get out of jail free card for the rest of the walk home does sound pretty great. Gillion turns around and crouches down. “I’ll piggyback you.”

“Fine, fuck it.”

Jay helps Chip scramble onto Gillion’s back, the three of them giggling like idiots and nearly falling over multiple times in the process. They probably wake the whole street.

“Onwards!” Gillion declares dramatically, jogging for about two feet before giving up and walking. Jay shushes him, trying to quieten her own hysterical laughing.

By the time they get home, it’s late into the night and the three of them barely say a word out of exhaustion. Gillion puts Chip down when they get to the apartment building, forcing him to make the long climb up the stairs by himself.

He throws himself down on the sofa the minute he can wrestle his shoes off and nearly passes out straight away, only kept up by the sound of the kettle and Jay pottering about in the kitchen. She returns a few minutes later with three mugs of tea and distributes them wordlessly.

Chip sits up properly to take the mug from her and Jay sits next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. Gillion blearily takes his mug and instantly sets it down again, opting to lay across the sofa instead, his head in Chip’s lap and his tea already forgotten.

Chip smiles. This is nice.

Chapter Text

Eventually, after months of living with him, Chip realises that he really doesn’t know a lot about Gillion. He’s spent pretty much everyday around him for almost four months, yet a whole chunk of his life remains a mystery to Chip. When he asked Jay, he found that she also didn't know much of what had happened to Gillion while the three of them were apart. So he decides to bring it up one day while the three of them are watching shitty soap operas on tv.

 “Hey, Gill?”

“Hm?” Gillion looks up from his phone.

“What’s like…what’s your deal man? Why are you here? Didn’t you, you know, make it out?” he jokes, cringing internally when Gillion doesn’t laugh and instead just looks at him with an indiscernible expression.

“I was adopted. You know this?” he answers simply. Jay gives Chip a look, presumably telling him to stop prying, but he’s too curious now.

“Well I know that . But what about the other stuff?” he pushes, “Were your parents nice?”

“Not my parents,” he clarifies with a grimace, “And not particularly.”

“Oh.” Chip panics. This isn’t how he thought this conversation was going to go. “Sorry, if you don’t wanna talk about it–”

“No no it’s okay,” Gillion reassures, “It doesn’t really affect me anymore. Edyn’s good like that.”

Chip gives him a questioning look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah she uh– she got me out. I don’t know how she found me but she did. She’s my blood sister actually. Our parents gave her to our grandfather when she was born and somehow they managed to track me down all those years later. The second I was old enough, I moved out to live with them, and then I came here because I wanted some independence,” Gillion explains.

“I’m sorry your parents were like that man,” Chip tries to comfort him uselessly.

“They weren’t that bad. They were just very strict. They had me in cadets, which I absolutely hated,” he chuckles, “And they were very religious, which for them meant homophobic.”

Chip hums in response and frowns.

“Honestly I’m over it by now though. Edyn helped a lot, and I don’t even visit them anymore.”

“That’s good at least,” Chip replies.

“I guess it’s just, they had such a set plan for me you know? And now…if I'm being honest” Gillion sighs, resting his elbows on his knees, “I have no idea what I’m doing, or what I even want to do.”

The three of them sit in silence for a moment before Jay, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, hesitantly speaks up. “I think…I think everyone thinks that you have to have some huge goal or ambition for your life or you’re just wasting your time,” she stares at the ceiling from where she's laying on the sofa as she talks, “You know. Have a good career. Be rich. Get married maybe. But you don’t have to want any of those things. It’s okay to not necessarily want any more than this. And it’s okay to not know.”

“What do you want then, Jay?” Gillion asks curiously.

She smiles, and answers easily, as if it were something she had thought over many times already. “I want a family. Maybe not kids but, you know. And a beautiful house, with a big kitchen.”

Gillion nods thoughtfully. “And you?” he asks, looking to Chip.

Chip pauses. What does he want? It’s not something he’s thought about for a very long time. Most of his life has just been about getting to the next day. Getting to the part where it doesn’t hurt anymore. He doesn’t think he’s there yet, but it’s not all bad right now.

“I want to keep living,” he answers, “And I want to enjoy it.”

The ‘I want you’ goes unsaid.

He has his whole life ahead of him, and it’s all his now. He’s going to live it.

Gillion nods again. His brow furrows as a look of contemplation washes over his face. “I don’t need to know what I want yet,” he smiles, “I’m happy.”

Jay grins as well. “It’s never a waste of time to be happy,” she confirms.

===

They continued chatting for a while, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. After about an hour, everyone else had departed from the living room, leaving Chip out on the balcony himself to think things over.

The day Lizzie was adopted was the first bad thing Chip can remember happening to him. He was nine years old and only a year later he would lose his two best friends too. 

Chip sat on his bed, alone in the dormitory, waiting for Lizzie to return from her meeting. She’d been in and out of meetings for months now. She always had a smile on her face afterwards so he assumed it was a good thing, but this time she entered the room looking troubled. 

Lizzie sat on the bed next to him and took a breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Chip’s stomach dropped. From the moment she said that, he knew. Despite that, he asked anyway, full of false hope that it would be something else. “What?”

“So you know I’ve had a lot of meetings lately,” she sounded nervous. Chip nodded. “We’ll I’ve been having them because,” Lizzie pauses, “I’m getting adopted. Tomorrow.”

Chip wanted to be sick. “Oh,” he frowned, “Tomorrow’s soon isn’t it?”

Lizzie bit her lip, looking guilty. “I’ve known for a month or so. I didn’t wanna tell you cus I thought it’d upset you,” she confessed quickly. 

“I’m not coming then, am I?” he asked dejectedly, already knowing the answer. Lizzie solemnly shook her head.

Chip didn’t know what to think. She had known she was getting adopted and she hadn’t told him. That’s what she’d been looking happy about for months. And whenever he’d asked she had brushed it off and said it was nothing. She lied.

He didn’t know what to say so all that came out of his mouth was, “You’re leaving me.”

Lizzie’s face contorted and she pulled him in for a hug, clutching him tightly against her side. “Chip, no. I’m not leaving you,” she sounded heartbroken. It just made him angry.

He pushed her off of him, scooting backwards on the bed. “You are!” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Why can’t I come?”

Lizzie didn’t answer.

“Lizzie, why can’t I just come too?” he repeats.

“Because he’s not adopting you.”

“Why not?” he pressed. Even at nine years old he knew he was being childish.

“Because— I don’t know, Chip! He’s just not!” Lizzie answered, irritation clear in her voice.

“He doesn’t want me,” he drew his own conclusions.

“No— he just doesn’t know,” she explained.

“You didn’t tell him about me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re supposed to leave together. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“You can’t just expect him to want or be capable of adopting two kids.”

“Well then you should stay.”

She looked at him sadly. “I can’t stay, Chip. I’m fourteen,” she reasoned gently, “I need to go to a real school, and make friends, and have a family.”

Chip blinked away the tears in his eyes, “What about me?”

“I’ll visit.”

“Okay,” he answered, and that was the end of the conversation.

Lizzie left the next morning, and the next time he saw her was in court.

===

It’s a warm evening, and Chip fiddles with the piece of paper in his hand— the one with Lizzie’s number on it. He’s thought about texting or calling a million times. But what would he say? ‘Hey Lizzie I know last time you saw me I was on trial for murder but you wanna grab a coffee and catch up sometime?’ She probably never wants to see him again. She’d be right to think that.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the noise of the sliding glass door behind him and the gentle voice of Gillion. “May I sit?”

“Yeah,” Chip says simply. He turns around and looks up at him as he does, and the familiar tightness in his chest returns.

The warm light of the fairy lights wrapped around the railings illuminate Gillion’s tan skin, defining every little detail. His hair is still damp from the shower, and falls around his shoulders in loose waves. Chip looks away, and focuses back on their small slice of the city skyline, the distant lights twinkling on the horizon.

Gillion settles beside him on the metal grate floor of the fire escape turned balcony. “Are you alright?” He asks tentatively, turning to look at him.

Chip looks straight ahead. He can feel Gillion’s eyes trace his side profile. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

“Lizzie,” Chip says, and he’s not sure why it feels like a confession. Of course he was thinking about Lizzie.

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence. Gillion doesn’t pry, just lets Chip take his time and say more if he wants to. 

After a moment of putting his thoughts together, Chip frowns, explaining, “I want to call her. Or text her or something.”

“Yeah?” Gillion asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah. But like last time she saw me I was on trial so,” he laughs dryly, “bit awkward.”

He jams his fingers into the gaps between the metal grating as he speaks, eyes trained on the floor. The rough metal makes his fingers red and sore. Gillion notices and grabs his hand. Chip is expecting him to just bat his hand away or move it back into Chip’s lap or something but he doesn’t let go, holding it firmly in his grasp and running his thumb over his knuckles. 

Chip stiffens for a moment, not knowing what to do, before he gives in, sitting awkwardly as he thinks he might throw up his actual stomach.Gillion frowns, “But she knows you’re not guilty.”

Chip shakes his head. “I don’t know that for certain. She walked out before the end. I don’t know if she checked the news or anything to find out. I don’t even know why she was there.”

“Hm.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the faint music from whatever top of the charts channel was on the TV. Chip shuffles over to lean against Gillion’s side, their interlocked hands resting on Chip’s thigh. His legs are tucked to the side and under him. It’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind. 

Eventually, the music is cut off when Jay sticks her head out the door. “Shut the door. I don’t want bugs getting in. You know how bad it gets this time of year,” she chastises. She does a double take and looks between the two of them with a knowing smirk, before shutting the door, plunging them into quiet. The only noise is the general hum of the city and the occasional honk of a horn or a random shout.

Chip shuts his eyes, drawing in a long breath and letting it out again. This is the most relaxed he’s felt in a while. It seemed like such a monumental task to get his life back on track but he’s practically there now. He’s just a guy who lives in the city with his two best friends. 

Gillion takes a breath and there’s a moment of tension where both of them know something is about to happen, but they remain silent. Then—

“I love you,” Gillion confesses suddenly and Chip’s eyes snap back open. His stomach drops and he leans forward, peeling himself away from Gillion’s side.

“You shouldn’t—”

“I do,” Gillion insists quickly, before Chip could even fully finish his sentence.

Chip squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I’ve done some bad stuff, Gill.”

“I don’t care,” Gillion says firmly and Chip’s brow creases in frustration because how can he say that when he doesn’t know the full story. How can he love him so blindly and earnestly?

Chip doesn’t look at him as he talks. Instead, his eyes are trained on Jay’s huge potted plant that sits on the balcony. “I was…involved in a murder case,” Chip reveals slowly. This is the real confession of tonight. Above anything else, this is the worst thing to wrench itself from either of their lips. 

“I didn’t do it. I might as well have” Chip’s heart must be beating a million times a minute.

Gillion is silent for a few seconds before he quietly asks, “What…happened?”

Chip swallows, chewing the inside of his cheek as he regrets starting this conversation. He could’ve just said I love you back and not have to delve into all this right now. But no. He can’t let Gillion love a killer.

Chip explains, and Gillion listens to the whole story—every rotten word. He remains understanding and Chip thinks that he must be a saint.

“I didn’t go to prison for the murder. I went for all the other stuff. All the gang shit.”

“God,” is the only word Gillion can get out. There’s silence between them. A horrible, thick silence interrupted only by the sound of Gillion’s hand rubbing up and down Chip’s back. After a minute or so, Gillion simply says, “It’s not your fault.”

Chip bursts into tears right then and there, wiping at his face in a futile attempt to compose himself. He shakes his head. Even if he didn’t directly kill her, there was still so much he could’ve done. “I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve called someone. I should’ve done something ,” he says through his sobs.

Gillion gives his hand a squeeze. Chip doesn’t remember when he had taken his hand again, it must’ve just felt natural. 

“Chip, it’s over. Don’t torture yourself like this. Even the law says it’s not your fault,” Gillion says gently.

“The law’s wrong about a lot of things,” Chip mutters.

“It is. But it wasn’t wrong about you. It brought you here, to me. And to Jay.”

Gillion doesn’t know how cruel it is that Chip and Jay met each other again, and that they loved each other again. He doesn’t know how cruel it is to live this wonderful life, with the fear that it could be ripped away from him at any moment, and he could lose the two of them all over again.

The thought makes him cry harder, and Gillion pulls him into a firm hug, holding him like he’s keeping him from falling apart. This isn’t fair. He shouldn’t be allowed this after everything he’s done. How can Gillion be so good to him?

They sit like that for a long while, and eventually, he collects himself, the sobs turn into quiet tears before fizzling out completely. He’s left exhausted, clinging on to Gillion like the world is trying to tear them apart. And there they sit: a penitent and a priest; an inmate and a free man; Chip and Gill.

After a few more minutes, Gillion murmurs quietly, “Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Chip lets out an almost relieved breath. “Yeah, please,” he croaks, nodding slightly.

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk about it when Chip woke up with his limbs tangled with Gillion’s the next morning. They didn’t talk about it when it happened several other times over the next few weeks. They didn’t even talk about it when he sat through a whole movie with his head in Gillion’s lap.

It became routine to seek eachother out: to cook together; to watch tv together; to walk home from work together (Chip taking a longer detour to meet up with Gillion).

Eventually though, Chip decides something has to change, and after months of pining, he finally plucks up the courage to ask Gillion on a date.

“Hey Gill?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

Gillion looks up from his breakfast, “Yeah?”

“Would you ever wanna like, go out somewhere? Like uh…I’m gonna be honest actually I still don’t know what there is to do around here.” He laughs awkwardly.

Gillion perks up. “Yeah of course!” he says, “Have you asked Jay?”

Chip winces. “Oh I meant like, us two. Go out. You know.”

“Oh. Oh,” Gillion tries to hide his smile, “I would be up for that.”

Chip sighs in relief. “Cool.”

“Cool.”

===

The venue of choice is a bowling alley/restaurant picked by Gillion himself. It was the first place he ever went with his grandfather and Edyn, and it had become a tradition to hold pretty much all important events there.

The alley itself is dark, illuminated only by blacklight and colourful, glowing shapes on the walls. Both the bowling balls and the pins glow in the dark too. The restaurant is slightly brighter, small lamps on each table casting a warm, cosy light over the booths. They sell all sorts of foods, and even some of the drinks glow too.

They eat first before going on to play a few rounds of bowling. Gillion insists on paying, calling Chip out when he then orders the cheapest thing on the menu, knowing for a fact that he doesn’t like that. In the end they split Gillion’s meal, a chicken burger and chips which Chip complains Gill put far too much salt on.

It turns out that Chip is horrifically bad at bowling, rolling the ball straight into the gutter 5 times before Gillion asks, “Do you want me to go ask for the gutters up?”

“No I don’t need them,” Chip insists, taking his second go and watching in despair as the ball goes right back into the gutter. Gillion raises an eyebrow. “Fine, fine,” Chip bristles, throwing himself down frustratedly on the seat, “Do whatever.”

“I’m trying to help you man, I don’t know why you’re getting so annoyed,” Gillion points out, standing behind Chip and cupping his face before bringing his hand down to rest on his shoulder. He smiles at the way he just slightly leans into the touch.

“Just because you’re some sort of freak who lives in the bowling alley doesn’t mean you can rub it in. I’ll have you know I’ve never actually been bowling before now,” Chip says, crossing his arms. 

“In what way am I rubbing it in?” Gillion asks smugly.

“Well— Oh just go get the gutters up or whatever,” Chip splutters indignantly.

Gillion laughs. “As you wish.” 

Finally, on Chip’s last turn, after mostly misses and a few spares, he gets a perfect strike. He cheers so loudly that he embarrasses himself, before happily walking back over to Gillion.

“Did you see that, man?” he asks excitedly, smiling so widely that Gillion can see his teeth glow in the blacklight. The fluorescent shine of the glowing shapes hits the side of Chip’s face and Gillion forgets that he’s being spoken to at all as he just stares at him— the man he’s grown to cherish with all of his heart.

Chip pulls him to his feet, encouraging him to take his turn and he can see closer up now all of the things that make him beautiful: the way his hair frames his face when he ties it up in his bandana; and the slight crook in his nose; and the way his smile is wider on one side.

Without any more thought, he brings a hand to the back of Chip’s head, and he kisses him. And despite what his ‘parents’ might have said, it feels more right than anything he’s done in his whole life. It’s every moment of existence they’ve shared together wrapped up into a tiny, tangible action.

Gillion eases himself off his tiptoes when Chip leans down to meet him and he feels him smile into the kiss, resting his hands at Gill’s hips.

Chip doesn’t pull away so he does, the two of them beaming ear to ear, unable to keep themselves from grinning and giggling like idiots. 

He once again runs a finger over the scar on Chip’s cheek. “You never did tell me how you got this,” he points out.

Chip huffs in laughter, pushing him toward the rack where the bowling balls are stored. “Take your turn. I’ll tell you on the way home.”

===

When they finally get home and open the door, hands still intertwined, Jay is sitting on the sofa, head in hands. She looks up when they enter the room, a look of utter devastation and disbelief on her face. 

“Jay?” Chip asks, laughing nervously.

She shakes her head. “What did you do, man?”

Chapter Text

Chip feels sick, because the minute Jay opens her mouth he knows. He knows he’s had it too good for far too long, and he knows that everything is about to come crashing down. Jay found out about Ava, she must have. There’s nothing else that could make her look at him the way she is right now.

He holds his hands up in a placating gesture, letting go of Gillion’s in the process. “Jay, if this is about–” he can’t bring himself to say it, “I need you to let me explain.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Gillion asks.

“What’s going on is that I finally thought I could stomach looking into the case.” She doesn’t need to clarify. They all know what she’s talking about. “And who’s fucking mugshot do I see on all of the articles? His,” Jay says, with a venom to her voice that Chip’s never heard directed at him before.

Gillion’s brow furrows in confusion and he turns to Chip. “Chip, you didn’t say it was her…” he says, voice trailing off toward the end as he realises he probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh so you told him, did you?” Jay asks, with a dangerous chuckle. Chip doesn’t like this one bit. “You told him but not the sister of the person you fucking murdered?”

“Jay, you gotta let me explain, man,” Chip pleads, knowing this will only escalate.

She laughs bitterly. “Go ahead, I’d love to hear your excuse.”

“It wasn’t me. I was involved with some sketchy ass people after Miss F’s and it was them. They did it. I would’ve done anything to stop it, man.” The words tumble out of his mouth in a hurry and he hates the way he stutters, knowing it only makes him sound less sincere.

“But you didn’t.”

He looks away. It was always his biggest regret. Gillion stands awkwardly to the side, shuffling away from Chip, as if he’s scared of him. Or maybe he’s scared of Jay– Chip knows he certainly is.

Jay's voice is dangerously low. “You didn’t do a fucking thing.”

“I know and I’m sorry. If I could go back in time–”

“You can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix killing my sister.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

When he looks back up at her, there’s a fire in her eyes. A horrible, sharp, searing fire, laced with accusation. It’s something he’s never seen on her. He’s seen it on her dad, he thinks sadly, a long, long time ago.

“So what now? Are you going to send your crazy fucking gang on me now? Gill? Lizzie maybe?” she asks tauntingly.

“Jay…” Gillion says quietly.

Chip’s jaw clenches. “Don’t you dare bring Lizzie into this,” he warns, getting pissed now. Jay isn’t listening to him. Just because he didn’t do anything to help, doesn’t mean it was his fault. He didn’t kill Ava.

“I think I’m allowed to bring your sister into this, since you brought mine into it first.”

He doesn't respond, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He doesn’t understand what she wants from him.

“They should have left you to rot in that prison cell,” she mutters.

“Oh you think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? With your big, nice house, and your rich family, and all your righteous fucking morals.” Chip can’t stop himself now, a resentment spewing out of him that he didn’t even know was there.

He’s not mad at Jay, he's just mad at the situation, mad at the shitty cards he was dealt. He never had a chance really. How was he meant to become anything but this? He’s a child stuck in an adult's body, with no clue how to navigate this situation, no clue how to do anything for himself. He still doesn’t know how to cook properly. He doesn’t even pay rent on this apartment.

“Yeah. I do,” she spits coldly, head tilted up in what looks like disgust, “Because I’m not a fucking murderer.” Her mouth is shut, her teeth clenched together in a scowl.

“I didn’t kill her, Jay! It was the other guy! It was Rueben!”

“But you didn’t do anything! You left! If you had just phoned the police or done something , she might’ve still been here,” there’s a pause as she takes a breath and she lowers her voice, adding, “and I’d still be in Featherbrooke, and I never would’ve met you, you pathetic fucking asshole.”

“Well you know what? If you had actually cared enough to look at the case in the first place you would’ve known it was me and we wouldn’t have wasted all this time being friends. I could’ve moved in somewhere else and we’d all be better off for it!” he says harshly.

“ Chip! ” Gillion frowns, sounding almost disappointed in him.

“See? Gillion’s on my side” Jay says and Chip scoffs at the childish nature of it.

“I’m not on anyone's side!” Gillion declares, raising his voice. This is the first time he’s ever seen him properly angry. It scares him.

There’s silence for a moment. Chip decides that this really is unfixable. How could anyone forgive him for something like this?

“And I did care, Chip!” Jay speaks up, “I cared so much that I didn't watch the case because I didn’t want to remember her that way! I didn’t want to see the pictures of the crime scene, or of her, or of anyone involved. I wanted to remember her as my sister, not a murder victim!” 

Chip doesn’t know what to say.

“Ava died, scared and alone in an alleyway and it’s your fault,” she says, voice shaking.

Jay is clearly hurt. Of course she is. But so is Chip and he doesn’t know what else he can do but remove himself from the situation so he barges past her, knocking harshly into her shoulder, and heads to his room. 

“What are you doing?” Jay asks, sounding exasperated. She’s following behind him and Chip grits his teeth because he really just needs to get away.

“I’m going,” he declares, shoving some clothes into a rucksack as quickly as he can. “Since clearly all I’ve done by being here is mess things up,” he stands, “I’ll just leave before I drive you out of your own apartment.” He leaves Jay behind in his bedroom, sighing when he hears her follow again.

“So you’re running away. Again? God, you really are a coward,” she says, laughing, “You know what? Go fuck yourself, Chip. Leave if you want.”

“Fuck you,” he spits.

Gillion is still standing by the door, seemingly unaware of what to do. Admittedly, the whole ordeal had been a major change of tone from the rest of the day, and Chip’s still in shock himself.

Gillion grabs his wrist as he reaches for the door. “Where will you go?” Chip can't look at him, the look of pure concern too much for him.

He yanks his arm back. “I know a place,” he mutters.

When Chip leaves this time, it isn’t quite. He slams the door hard, and breathes heavily as his feet hit every one of the stairs on the way down, the sound drilling into his brain as he tries to keep it together.

He beelines straight for the toilets in the lobby of the building, the door banging open, and splashes cold water on his face before drying it with a paper towel. The bin is jammed and he can’t get it open so he kicks it across the room, letting out a scream of frustration, tears in his eyes.

When he exits the bathroom, Ollie is standing awkwardly in the lobby, looking concerned. Chip pays him no mind, leaving the building and starting the run practically the moment he gets through the door. He knows the way. He’s walked past Lizzie’s house enough times out of curiosity.

His shoes are loud against the concrete, and the rain is loud, and his breathing is loud, and he knows he’s causing a scene but he can't find it in himself to care.

The last time he was running like this, it was much later at night and there wasn’t anyone else around.

He can’t help but start sobbing, grieving the life he had built for himself, the one that had just fallen apart in his hands, victim to the fiery rage of a Ferin, and his own stupid decisions. 

Would things be different if he had just told her? Would he have been forgiven, redeemed by his truthfulness? Or was this bound to happen either way, reunited with his childhood friends only to have them cruelly ripped away by his looming past?

The rain hammers against the pavement, his clothes sticking to his skin. He tries to compose himself as the house comes into view. He takes a deep breath and tries to wipe the tears off his face.

Chip thinks he must look like a mess, out of breath and soaked through from the rain, but he knocks anyway, not sure if he wishes it’s the right address or the wrong one. He debates walking away but after a few seconds of silence, the hallway light turns on and he sees the silhouette of a person unlocking the door.

His breath catches in his throat and he wants to turn and leave but the door is opening and his feet are glued to the ground and his mind goes blank because Lizzie is standing in front of him .

Her hair is down now, tumbling over her shoulders in beautiful, neat braids and she looks more mature than Chip’s ever seen her, her features more defined and her face more pointed. She’s wearing a simple black hoodie and grey joggers, but he can see the hints of a tattoo sleeve coming to a stop at her wrist just under the cuff of the hoodie— waves, it looks like. It reminds Chip of when they used to play pirates together as children. 

He watches her face intently, seeing first confusion, then a flash of recognition, before something he can’t quite read settles over her face. She swallows, blinking tears from her eyes.

“Lizzie, I—” Chip cuts himself off before he starts crying, but it’s barely noticed as Lizzie swiftly steps forward and pulls him into an embrace. He freezes for a moment, before hugging back firmly, wrapping his arms around her back and squeezing tightly. He tries to hold back his tears but it’s no use because Lizzie’s already started crying and how could he stop himself now. He cries harder when he realises he’s just barely taller than her now.

“Chip,” she whispers, and even her voice sounds different, but it’s still Lizzie. It’s still Lizzie and he’s here in her arms and she’s rocking them back and forth and kissing his hair and he feels seven years old again, crying in his sister's arms.

“Lizzie. Liz,” Chip swallows, “I’m so sorry.” He can’t hold back the sob that bubbles up out of his throat. “I’m so so sorry.”

Lizzie pulls back and she holds the sides of his head tightly, hands pressed against wet hair. Her face is red and her mascara is running as he presses her forehead to Chip’s, muttering, “No you’re fine, you’re fine. Chip, you did nothing wrong. You’re perfect.” And Chip can’t answer because he knows that’s not true. 

His voice breaks as he meets her eyes, “I didn’t want it. I didn’t want them to hurt her, Liz. I didn’t—”

“I know. I believe you,” she presses a firm kiss to the top of his head and pulls him inside out of the rain, “I believe you.”

It’s quiet, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the constant sound of the rain. Chip takes a breath, calming himself as much as possible. “I need somewhere to stay for a bit,” he says quickly, before he can overthink it.

“Of course,” Lizzie replies.

Chapter Text

Life afterwards is hard for Chip. He spends days lying on his back on the stark white bedsheets of Lizzie’s spare room, staring up at the ceiling. The room is plain, left a blank slate for whoever might inhabit it one day. Or maybe it’ll be a storage room, emptied out once he’s left and filled with all the items people can’t seem to get rid of.

He wonders if his room at the apartment has already been gutted out, transformed into a space for bad gifts and ‘just in case’s.

He doesn’t know where he’ll go after this. Maybe he’s destined to roam the streets forever, shoplifting alcohol and killing sisters. The thought makes him want to be sick.

He thought he’d gotten over it. He thought he could manage by now. But after everything that’s happened, the guilt has returned full force. There’s nowhere to put it now, nothing to keep him busy. He hasn’t turned up to work in weeks. All he does is sit quietly and eat when he gets too hungry and breathe when he gets too frustrated.

Explaining everything to Lizzie had been a gruelling task, and one that had taken far too long with how often he had to stop to try and compose himself. He’d felt pathetic, unable to get a word out without that stupid shake in his voice.

Lizzie’s been good to him though. She brings him food and makes him watch tv with her and occasionally drags him out of the house for a walk, making sure to steer clear of anywhere near the old apartment.

Strangely enough, Caspian (who Chip has now learned is Lizzie’s housemate) has been good to him too. He covers him and Lizzie in a blanket when they fall asleep on the sofa and makes sure he doesn’t get out of bed too late. Sometimes he’ll ask for help around the house, something mindless like folding clothes. Something tells Chip that Caspian secretly knows how much the repetitive action calms him down. 

On bad days, when he really misses Gillion and Jay, he’s herded into the kitchen and given some vegetables to cut up as the three of them cook together. They end up on the sofa dozing and bingeing tv until Caspian gives Lizzie a look and she elbows Chip, encouraging him to go to bed.

It’s humiliating, being taken care of like this after finally having some independence, but he doesn’t have enough fight left in him to protest and in reality, the past few months of being an adult have been exhausting, so maybe he doesn’t mind the help too much.

Lizzie knocks gently on the door, snapping Chip out of his thoughts. “Hey.”

Chip sighs. “Hey, Liz.”

The door creaks open and she shuts it behind her. She sits on the white wooden desk chair— the kind with the holes in the back that everyone’s owned at least once in their life— and tucks her legs up on the seat.

There’s silence between them where Chip just looks at her, and she looks away. She wants to say something, he knows she does, but the two of them have never been good at this. He remains quiet, daring her to speak first.

“I think we need to talk, Chip,” she starts, fiddling with one of her braids.

“No shit,” he mutters.

Lizzie sighs, “I owe you an apology.”

There’s a pause as Chip tries to figure out what to say. “Yeah,” is all he can mumble in response. 

He doesn’t want to be mad at her because he’s so elated just to see her again, but he can’t help it. Maybe he’ll always carry some tiny bit of resentment towards her. Maybe it would’ve been easier if they’d never met each other again at all and he could’ve forgotten all about it. But he can’t seem to leave things behind him anymore. Everything comes back.

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie says.

Chip watches her, waiting, silently begging her to say more. That can’t be it.

She huffs at his expectant look, and looks away again, pressing her fist to her mouth as her leg bounces nervously. “You know every fucking day I was thinking about you, Chip. I never stopped feeling guilty. And when Caspian said that he thought he’d seen you, I wanted to look for you, I really fucking did, but— but I thought you wouldn’t wanna see me and— shit! I’m a fucking idiot Chip.”

There’s a pause.

“I just— why didn’t you visit?” Chip asks. It’s a question that’s always been on his mind, from the moment she left. Why on earth would she not want to see him?

“I don’t know.”

“No, don't gimme that, Liz. I want a real answer,” he insists.

Lizzie sighs and rests her head on her knees. Making herself small, Chip thinks, what a weird look on loud, confident Elizabeth. 

“I wanted to, I swear. I just—” she lets out a noise of frustration, “I was scared and guilty and a stupid fucking teenager okay. I would do anything to go back and change things. It’s my fault.”

Chip wants to tell her it isn’t, but he doesn’t fully believe that, and it’s easier to blame someone else.

“I could’ve saved you both if I had just been there. Ava would—” she cuts herself off, swallowing down her tears.

He just nods. He knows. They sit like that for a moment, neither daring to speak up.

“I fucking loved her, you know.”

Chip nods again. Of course she did. He thinks if he had known her, he would’ve loved her too. She seems like that kind of person that just radiates joy and love. He doesn’t think he has permission to love a dead stranger.

Lizzie clears her throat, “Maybe after all this gets sorted, you could come meet my dad? Maybe…our dad?”

He bites the inside of his cheek; he doesn’t want to cry in front of her. He smiles weakly. The thought makes him feel nauseous, but maybe it would be nice.

===

Jay lays on her back on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She’s not sure how long she’s been lying there. Gillion is in the bathroom, she can see the light from the open door creep across the hall and over the threshold of her unlit room. 

The house feels too quiet without Chip. Usually, he’d be chatting away to Gill or whistling to himself or watching something loudly on tv. It’s as if he were dead. For all she knows he could be; she doesn’t know where he got off too. Whatever. She doesn’t care. A horrible, heavy feeling settles into her gut.

She listens intently to the noise of the bathroom fan and imagines Ava in there, doing her hair, or brushing her teeth, humming to herself like she always did. She would cry if she had the energy. She just wants to exist in the same place as Ava again, even if they can’t talk. Just to be around her would be enough. 

When she died, the house was always too quiet. Her mother was still away working, and her father barely spoke a word. It was one of the reasons she learnt to play piano: to fill the silence; to turn her grief into something deemed productive. It never helped much, but it gave her something to do at least.

There’s no piano now. No father to glare at. Just Gill. Gill who is standing in her door frame, blocking the light and darkening the room further. She turns her head to look at him, not moving off the bed. They stare at each other quietly for a moment, then Gill speaks up.

“Your uncle is here,” he informs, before shutting himself in his room. Jay hadn’t even heard the knock at the door.

The situation with Gillion has been awkward ever since everything went down. They both mostly stay in their rooms, only venturing out for food or laundry. They barely speak. She doesn’t know why. It’s not like it was Gill’s fault. Maybe she’s still mad he didn’t tell her what he knew. That he sided with Chip. It’s a childish thought she knows, but she can’t help it. 

She drags herself out of bed. She’s going for a walk with Drey today. She hasn’t seen him in too long and she needs to clear her head. 

She meets him at the door and they venture down to the park in silence. It’s only once he holds open the creaky gate for her that he speaks up.

“So…how are things?” He coughs awkwardly.

“Alright,” Jay lies, kicking at a crisp packet. Her body feels heavy and her throat feels tight, as if her words are being trapped inside.

Drey walks beside her, keeps his gaze forwards and his tone neutral. He knows she gets skittish during these conversations, like some pathetic animal.

“I haven’t seen you like this in a while,” he states simply.

“And what’s ‘like this’?” she asks, voice tight.

“Mopey, not talking, not taking care of yourself,” Drey lists. “You can’t be doing this to yourself.”

Jay doesn’t respond.

He sighs. “Come on, Jay. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She watches the children playing on the rusted play park and wishes she can be that small again. She feels that small.

“Jay.” He says expectantly, eyeing her. She can feel the pressure of his gaze on her skin like a physical thing. She feels trapped, pinned down, forced to confront what’s been eating at her.

“Drey,” she says back, level.

He just continues to watch her.

“There’s nothing!” Jay erupts, stopping to stare him down. “Why did you even come if you were just going to interrogate me?”

“Because you need it. Why did you invite me?”

She can’t answer that. She’s not entirely sure. Deep down she knows she needs someone to snap her out of this, but she doesn’t know if that’s what she wants. She’s been strong for so long. Can’t she leave it be just this one time?

“Jay, you have to talk to him,” Drey says, firmly but kindly.

She looks away, closing in on herself. It’s cold today. She should’ve brought a jacket. She thinks about that instead, and ignores the memory of the picnic they had on the grass in this park.

She doesn’t want to think about Chip, or Ava, or her family. She just wants to get back in bed and stay there, let the time pass around her.

They keep walking. When they reach the end of the park, they turn around and walk it again. 

“What are you feeling?” Drey asks, after he notices the way Jay’s mouth is clamped shut.

“Bad,” is all she can get out, with a pathetic huff of dry laughter, “awful.”

Drey just nods in understanding.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Jay admits.

“Then talk to him.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Remind yourself why he’s your friend, and then fix it.”

“What if I don’t want to fix it?”

“You do.”

The rest of the walk is quiet. Drey hears when Jay begins to cry. He just reaches out and holds her hand.

===

Losing two friends over something he had no part in seems a bit extreme to Gillion, but it’s happened and it’s real and he can’t change it now.

When Jay leaves the house with her uncle, Gillion calls Edyn. She picks up immediately, like always.

“Edyn, I don’t know—” he swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn’t realised he had been that close to crying. “I don’t know what’s happened.”

“Gill?” her voice comes through the speaker, kind and perfect and safe. “Are you okay? Do I need to come and get you?”

He sniffs. “No it’s alright, Edyn. I’m at home.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s Chip and Jay. They had a falling out. Chip left and he hasn’t come home.” His voice wobbles. “Edyn he won’t answer his phone. I don’t know where he is and what if he’s hurt and Jay’s upset and I can’t make it better and—”

“Gill, slow down, slow down. Why did they fall out?”

“Did I ever tell you about Ava? Jay’s sister?”

Edyn hums. “I remember a little bit. She passed away, didn’t she?”

Gillion nods, then realises that Edyn couldn’t see him. “Yes. She was murdered. Jay found out that it was the gang that Chip used to be with who killed her. It wasn’t him but she blames him. She’s angry with me too because she thinks that I knew but I didn’t. I didn’t know it was her sister.”

There’s a few seconds before Edyn speaks up again. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Gillion agrees, with a sad, wet little laugh. He rubs at his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not your job to fix it. This is for them to sort out between themselves.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Then they don’t. It might be less painful for them both if they stay away from each other.”

“Then what do I do? I can't choose one or the other. I— I don’t know what to do without them.”

Edyn makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sure they will figure it out,” she reassured him. “From what you’ve told me, it seems like they care about each other a lot.”

Gillion hums, and tries to convince himself that everything will be okay. 

“If things don’t work out, could I stay with you for a while?” he asks tentatively.

“There’s always room for you here, Gill.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, then Edyn says, “Did you know that I ran away once?”

Gillion frowns. That’s not like his sister at all. “What?”

“Really,” she insists. Gillion can hear the smile in her voice. “Our Grandfather was making risotto for dinner. And I hated it and he knew that I did. Every time we had it I would beg him to make something different but he never did. So one day, I got so angry that I decided I would run away.”

Gillion laughs. “How long until he found you?”

“Oh thirty minutes,” Edyn chuckles.

Gillion likes hearing stories about his sister's life. Sometimes he inserts himself into them, imagines what he would’ve done if he was there. Maybe the two of them would’ve run away together. 

Edyn takes his mind off things for a while. She always does.