Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ghoul is still tired when he stumbles into the diner, although it’s almost noon already, beams of sunlight are falling through the windows they nailed shut and the room feels stuffy and hot. 

“Mornin’.” He suppresses a yawn.

There is clattering to be heard from the kitchen. It smells of pancakes.

“Morning, Ghoul!” Jet yells back. He’s the one making the pancakes. They won’t taste great, because they use water instead of milk, but still better than their usual breakfast. Pancakes normally mean they have something to celebrate. Sometimes, that something is just making it through the night at all. Ghoul assumes that Jet heard Party scream last night.

He slumps down in the booth opposite Party, who immediately moves to shield the papers they are working on with their arm.

Ghoul isn’t surprised that they are already up. They rarely manage to fall back asleep in the morning after being woken by night terrors. Knowing Party, they’ve probably been up for hours already.

“Good morning, love.” Party flashes him a quick smile, chipper and bright in spite of their restless night. They are good at pretending, a leftover skill from their days at the city orphanage where negative emotions could be lethal, Ghoul assumes. They don’t really talk about it, not even to Ghoul. Most things he knows about his partner’s childhood, he learned from Kobra.

Party lowers their gaze back on their writing. They are avoiding eye contact the way they usually do after keeping Ghoul up at night. They hate being a burden. It’s like a splinter in their soul made of city lies that tells them only an uncomplicated person deserves to live; only an uncomplicated person deserves to be loved. Ghoul’s been working on getting it out of them for years now. He loves them even on the days when they are complicated. Maybe those are the days on which he loves them the most.

“Ghoulie!” He turns his head, for a moment genuinely surprised to see the Girl standing next to the booth, waving a sheet of paper in the air. “Look what I made!”

Ghoul widens his eyes and pats the bench next to himself. “C’mon, show me, pumpkin.”

She climbs onto the bench, proudly presenting a drawing to him. He usually isn’t her first choice when it comes to showing off and his heart seems to swell in his chest. Everyone knows that Party is her favourite. They are the most reliable: even on the bad days, they keep it together. If things become too much for Kobra, he simply shuts down and, even though she understands, she is still young. It scares her. Jet locks himself in his room for days on end to do nothing but sleep when he gets overwhelmed by all the shadows left behind by people he once loved. Ghoul gets angry. He never takes it out on her, never on the child, but he picks fights with the others, mostly with Party, and he knows that the screaming and the slamming of doors scare her, too. It’s only Party who is always the same, who knows how to smile and charm even when they don’t feel like it. They only ever break down at night, waking up screaming and unable to stop shaking, all the pent-up trauma clawing its way to the surface as soon as they lower their guard.

“Shiny!” Ghoul studies the drawing. It shows the girl in her favourite vest, next to an animal that reaches up to her knee. “T’is a mighty big lizard.”

The Girl laughs. Ghoul thinks it’s his favourite sound in the world, surpassing even Party’s honking laughter. If the Girl is laughing, it means their family is alright.

“It’s not a lizard, silly! It’s a cat!”

Ghoul frowns at the drawing. His face feels uncomfortably hot. He vaguely knows what cats look like, but they are city pets; he’s never actually seen one and always assumed they were bigger. He has no idea how the Girl knows about cats. Maybe Party described them to her. They know all kinds of stuff and sometimes they use words Ghoul has never even heard of, like the names for colours that are just a shade of blue to him. Or maybe she has seen a picture in one of her illustrated books; the books Ghoul never touches, because they are just another reminder of all the things he doesn’t know.

“Dunno, ya sure? Heard they spotted furry lizards in Zone 5 after the last rain,” he says.

The Girl gasps. “Can we get one?”

“Depends. Can ya think of a real awesome name for it?”

She thinks about it so hard that she starts frowning. It makes her look weirdly grown-up, like a little old lady, and it hurts deep in his chest. He hopes she’ll live forever.

“Lizzy?” she suggests.

“Ya sure?”

She immediately frowns again. Ghoul takes the opportunity to watch Party, searching for hints that tell him if he needs to worry. He sees the tensing in their freckled forearm as they move the pen across the paper furiously. The scratching sound fills the diner. Ghoul always makes sure that there are pens around. Party needs them to tame their thoughts at times.

“Lizzy Sandson the Third,” the Girl declares very earnestly.

Ghoul laughs and focuses his attention back on her. “A’ight. ‘S a pretty good name. Imma see what I can do, yeah?”

He would like to teach her how to take care of a pet. He doesn’t feel like there is a lot he can teach her, compared to the others.

“Breakfast!” Jet announces and carries two plates to the booth.

Ghoul looks around the room. “Where’s Kobra?”

There’s a small pause in which Jet sets down the plates and Ghoul can tell that the real answer is in that moment of silence.

“Went for a drive,” Party says without looking up. Kobra is usually shaken when he hears their screams through the wall at night. That’s another thing they feel guilty about.

“Imma save him some,” Jet says and gets the remaining plates from the kitchen.

Party doesn’t move and the Girl catches on quickly, climbing into Ghoul’s lap to make space for Jet on their side of the bench. She’s good at reading moods, too good at it for her age. That’s one of the things Ghoul feels guilty about.

He wraps his arms around her to keep her steady. She is growing too big to sit in his lap comfortably any longer and her hair is all up in his face and his legs already feel numb, but he cherishes these moments anyway. 

She reaches for the bottle of syrup made from cactus figs and pours the sticky liquid over her pancakes until they are completely drenched. 

“Don’t overdo it, Girlie,” Jet says.

Ghoul grins and takes the syrup from her, pouring just as much over his own pancakes. Jet sighs.

Party puts down their pen and Ghoul watches as they fold the letter very accurately. They frown and their tongue pokes out the corner of their mouth. It looks cute. There is an ink stain on their right forefinger.

They fold the paper three times before holding it out to Ghoul. “For later,” they say.

Ghoul nods and takes the letter, placing it next to his plate carefully. The letters always felt like a compromise between them. Ghoul is the sentimental one, who keeps objects to remind him of the past. He still has the blanket he used as a child which stopped smelling like his mother more than a decade ago, and a lock of Girlie’s hair he kept after Party cut it for the first time. The letters are a way for him to hold on to Party’s fleeting words.

“Now, show me that cat of yours,” Party says and leans forward with a grin.

The Girl is already stuffing her face with pancakes, but she pushes her drawing across the table so Party can inspect it with the air of a serious art critic.

“Great job on the fur,” they praise, “and who is that handsome model next to the cat?”

The Girl giggles and Ghoul smiles while he gets started on his pancakes. They taste deliciously sweet, though it’s mostly the syrup covering any other flavour.

“Ghoul said I can get a mutant pet lizard!” she announces.

“Gotta see ‘bout that mutant part,” Ghoul mumbles.

“If Ghoul promised, Ghoul’s better gonna be responsible for the lizard, too,” Jet says, giving Ghoul a reproachful side-eye. He would love to tell them no, but just like Party, he can’t deny the Girl anything that makes her happy. They are spoiling her rotten.

“I’ll be responsible,” she declares with an air of authority too big for her small body. Ghoul can hear Party in her voice.

She moves on his lap, nearly knocking over the syrup with her elbow.

“Careful, pumpkin,” Ghoul warns and instinctively reaches out to cover Party’s letter with his hand. 

“Do you want me to read the letter to you?” the Girl asks. She must have followed Ghoul’s movement with her eyes, catching on to the way his body tensed. She’s so observant, Ghoul has no idea where she gets that from.

“No, ‘s a’ight.” He speaks too quickly, hoping that she won’t push the issue. He watches Party, but they keep wearing their bulletproof smile, which means they don’t want anyone to worry.

“I’ve gotten real good at reading though! I can read the whole letter to you!” she brags.

Ghoul laughs, but his face feels hot again. He’s proud of her, so proud that it’s tearing him apart, but it hurts to know that soon she won’t need him anymore.

“I’m sure you could, sweetie,” Party says. “But the letter is meant only for Ghoul, yeah? It’s personal. I’ll write you a letter soon, how’s that sound?”

“But if no one reads the letter to him, how will he know what it says?” The Girl is looking at Party, so Ghoul can’t see her face. She sounds genuinely curious. She still believes Party has the answer to everything.

They are irritated, it’s obvious because they freeze for a second the way they always do when adjusting to new information.

“He’ll read it himself,” Party says. They are looking at the Girl instead of Ghoul. The fact that he might not be able to read their letters is something that never occurred to them at all. They feel guilty for never considering it, Ghoul can see it in the way they avoid his eyes. They hope the Girl got it wrong.

“But he can’t …”

Ghoul jerks up his knees, knowing it will make the Girl yelp and giggle while wrapping his arm around her more tightly to make sure she doesn’t lose her balance. She squeals in delight.

He doesn’t know how she knows. He only knows that she used to ask all of them to read out to her when she was younger, but at some point, she stopped asking Ghoul. They never talked about it, she just stopped dragging her storybooks over to him that he would refuse to even open anyway. Instead, she would climb into his lap and ask for one of his famous stories. Ghoul is the best storyteller among the four of them, even without the vocabulary to match. 

“I can read ‘em,” Ghoul says. “Could read it, too, if ya wrote to me,” he adds and jerks his knees up again, so the Girl giggles.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Yeah, ‘cause I know whatcha thinkin’. Cause I love ya more than words can say anyway.”

She turns in his lap to give him a stern look.

“What am I thinking right now?” she demands to know. Her voice has that tone again – bossy and cocky, like the playfulness is meant to disguise the headstrongness underneath. She sounds exactly like Party.

Ghoul looks around the table.

“Lizards don’t eat pancakes, we gotta feed it bugs.”

She gasps and Ghoul tries to keep his concentration on her, but he notices the way Party’s shoulders slump down as they relax. They are relieved that they don’t need to have this conversation right now.

“How did you know?” the Girl inquires, still in awe.

“‘S magic. Beat a guy at cards once who taught me how to read people’s minds. He learned it from the Witch herself. It was meant as a gift, ‘cause she loved his mother, but it drove him insane, listening in on people’s thoughts all day because a lotta ‘em were dark ‘n cruel,” he explains. “That’s why it’s important to do it only with people you love, ‘cause you know you’ll like their thoughts ‘n won’t go mad.”

Party finally looks at him directly, their lips curled into a smile. 

“Ghoul,” Jet says, a slight warning in his tone. Ghoul’s stories used to scare the Girl, but she’s too old to actually believe in them any longer. By now, she’s just playing along.

“Can I try?” she asks.

“Sure.” Ghoul leans down and lowers his voice. “Ya gotta focus real hard ‘n then ya see their thoughts all written out on their face.”

“What am I thinking then?” Jet asks.

The Girl squints at him. “That we should eat our pancakes,” she finally concludes.

Jet chuckles. It was an easy guess. Jet doesn’t like wasting food. “‘S right. Eat up.”

Party pulls up their plate. They’re either a fast eater, wolfing down the food like someone is about to take it away from them, or they struggle to eat at all. Today, they take their time. They held the pen so determined and securely earlier, but the fork dangles in their grip aimlessly, like they aren’t really sure what they are supposed to do with it. Ghoul assumes they would prefer to write another letter right now to ask if he really can’t read and how this never came up before. Their expression is blank, they forgot to put their smile back on.

They finish breakfast in silence, just the Girl starts shifting in his lap eventually, restless and eager to get back to whatever is on her mind currently - drawing or running or playing dress-up in Party’s clothes.

“Someone else’s gotta clean the kitchen,” Jet says. He takes care of all of them, but he refuses to run the household by himself.

“I’ll do it,” Party offers. “It’s only fair.” They don’t elaborate on why it’s fair, but it means they know the pancakes were intended as comfort after their sleepless night.

Jet allows the Girl to climb onto his back and Party picks up the plates. Ghoul hesitates before taking the letter and getting up to walk back to the motel. They’ll know where to find him, or at least Party will.

He weighs the letter in his hand as he walks. The paper is thick and heavy. Party likes collecting paper, it’s one of the few luxuries they indulge in. Today, they picked one that is light blue and grained. It looks like a cloudy day.

He closes the door behind himself once he enters the room he shares with Party. It’s messy as always. Ghoul is the one who collects things, but it’s Party’s stuff that’s always all over the place — clothes and makeup, paperback novels and spray paint, but they never hold on to it for long. Every couple of months they take their belongings down to the market and trade them for new things, as if they constantly have to reinvent themself or prove that they can let go of everything if they have to. When they ran away from the orphanage, they took nothing but Kobra Kid.

Ghoul pulls up a chair to access the top of their closet where he keeps the wooden box guarded by the worn Mousekat plushie that’s missing an ear. He made the box himself, even though he isn’t especially good with woodwork. Party is the one who painted it. They used every colour they owned. There’s a word written on its front, too, but he doesn’t know what it means.

Ghoul places the box on the double bed and sits down. The Mousekat plushie falls over. Whenever he has a fight with Party — a bad one, so bad that they sleep in Kobra’s room — he hugs it to his chest at night. It smells of fire and smoke. 

He looks at the letter in his hand. His heart is pounding. He’s happy about the letter. It’s a part of Party he’s holding in his hands, a part of their thoughts and feelings, something that has been entrusted to him. But it always triggers fear, too. 

He unfolds the paper. The letters usually tell him a lot, even without understanding the words, at least they always have so far. But he’s scared of missing something important one day because he just isn’t smart enough. He’s scared of failing Party, because he can’t keep up with them.

The letters are small, covering the entire page. When Party is happy, their handwriting is large and bouncy. Small letters mean they are scared of running out of space, because there is so much on their mind. 

Ghoul trails his fingertips across the page. He can feel the words even on the back of the thick paper and in some places, the pen nearly pierced through. 

He knows that the letter is about last night. They are apologising for keeping him up and thanking him for always being there to comfort them, rocking them back and forth and stroking their sweaty hair. Recently, the nightmares have been getting worse. Ghoul assumes that it has something to do with the Girl growing up. She’s slowly getting old enough to see them as people rather than just family. She notices the tension and the weight each of them is carrying, even if they try their best to keep it hidden from her for another couple of years. Party tries to hide the most. Ghoul can sense the pressure that comes with that in every single letter on the page.

Carefully, he folds the letter back up and opens the box to store it away safely next to the others. 

They’ll have to talk about the letters. It’s a conversation he really doesn’t want to have.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s quieter than Jet’s usual knock. Kobra and the Girl never knock at all.

“Ya can come in, Pois,” Ghoul says.

The door opens slowly, and Party peeks into the room as if they are scared of intruding, even though they have shared this space for years. They clear their throat. 

“Hey,” they say. They never outright state it when they want to talk about something that’s bothering them.

“Hey.” Ghoul licks his lips. He considers beating around the bush, but it’s never been something he’s good at. “It ain’t a bother.” He raises the letter he’s still holding. “Ya ain’t a bother. Don’t want ya thinking that.” He wants to get that out there before picking a fight.

Party slips into the room and shuts the door behind themself. They exhale with relief and their smile finally looks honest.

“So you’ve read it,” they state. It’s not a question, but Ghoul doesn’t know how to answer it anyway.

There’s a moment of silence and Party steps closer to look at Ghoul’s letter collection. They’ll continue talking soon. Party’s not good at handling silence.

They bounce on their heels. The long skirt they are wearing sways with the movement. 

“What Girlie said …” They break off again. “Why would she say that?”

Ghoul swallows. The question is more confrontational than he expected.

“‘S true, y’know,” he says. “I’m stupid. Can’t read your letters.”

He shrugs and stares at Party, challenging them to say something, to look hurt or angry and disappointed. But they just look confused.

“You always know what they say.”

Ghoul shrugs again, but he can’t meet their eyes. “I know you.” That at least is the truth. He never needed a transcript to understand Party.

“And you are not stupid,” Party adds. “You just never learned. I should have thought about it. I shouldn’t have assumed …”

“I tried to learn,” Ghoul interrupts them harshly. He doesn’t know why there is always so much anger boiling directly underneath the surface. Party’s diplomacy usually makes it worse. He hates feeling like he is the only one who is upset. “As a kid, ‘n later. Just too stupid to get it. Don’t coddle me.” 

“You’re not stupid,” Party repeats. They still refuse to raise their voice. “Sorry if I made you feel that way. I should have …” Their words fail them. They can talk for hours on end and Ghoul has pages upon pages to prove that they have words for everything, but now they fall quiet. “Should’ve paid more attention. Kid’s figured it out ‘n I didn’t.”

Ghoul considers pointing out that they often seem to have a blind spot for the people close to them. He finds it endearing though, the way his feelings often take them by surprise.

“Sorry,” they say once more.

Ghoul looks up to meet their eyes. They look troubled, but they are trying to smile. He turns his head before he can snap at them.

“Ya allowed to be angry with me, y’know? ‘Bout lying to ya.”

He knows that he should have spoken up years ago, but he was too proud and now Party is the one apologising even though they have every reason to feel betrayed. Ghoul would be chucking those letters right back into their face if he’d been the one to write them.

“I’m not …” Party breaks off again and takes a step forward. The mattress dips under their weight as they sit down. Ghoul looks at the box of letters instead of facing them. They are physical proof of their love for each other, proof of something that often feels so fleeting out here in the desert where they usually lose more than they gain. They aren’t going to break up over this. Party might sleep in Kobra’s room tonight though. The thought of not being able to hold them if they wake up screaming again hurts worse than anything else.

“Fine.” Party exhales sharply. Ghoul looks at them from the side. They are blowing a strand of hair from their face. It looks stringy and almost long enough to tie it into a proper bun again. “I wish you had said something.”

They lick their lips. They look chapped, probably because of the hot pink lipstick they wore yesterday. It always leaves their lips behind dry.

“Wish you’d said something instead of letting me make a complete fool out of myself for years.” Their voice sounds sharper than usual. Ghoul’s anger vanishes immediately. He is only ever angry when he feels like he’s arguing with a wall. The moment the first crack starts to show in their mask, he grows weak, because underneath that mask is Party and he loves Party more than anything.

“Poured my fucking heart out to you and you didn’t even …”

The last word hangs between them unspoken. 

“I care,” Ghoul says. “‘S not that I don’t care, baby.” Even when they are fighting, he doesn’t want them to think that for even a second.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Party turns their head and their eyes meet almost by accident. Ghoul is sure that Party knows the exact name for the colour of their eyes, knows if it resembles moss or seaweed or freshly cut grass. To Ghoul, they are just green. Every shade of green he sees reminds him of the way Party looks at him.

“I was embarrassed at first, can ya blame me? Ya came strutting into my workshop all educated ‘n gorgeous ‘n I didn’t know what to say.”

Party laughs. The sound is unexpected, but Ghoul instantly relaxes.

“You said: Fuck off!”

Ghoul laughs as well, startled by the memory. “Thought ya wanted a discount,” he points out. “Came in like … what? Five days in a row?”

Party groans. “It was six, actually.”

Ghoul remembers the workshop he used to run, producing some of the best explosives in the Zones, even though he was an amateur back then. His hands still have the burn marks to prove it. The space was crammed and small, but he had loyal customers and was able to make a living for himself. He told himself that he didn’t need a crew.

“Ya bought a single grenade every day. ‘N I thought to myself - nobody needs that many grenades. They’re building up to a bulk order ‘n want a discount on their pretty face. Was determined to tell ya to fuck off once ya asked.”

He practised it in fact, repeated the words over and over in his head silently. The workshop felt too small for the two of them while Party was inside, strolling around the room and picking up random items as if to inspect his work. Ghoul tried to keep working, but couldn’t keep his eyes off Party’s fiery red hair. He can still picture the yellow crop top they wore on the first day.

They had met before a couple of times and although Party hadn’t been in the Zones for long yet, they had already built a reputation. They were known for being a quick shooter, a reckless driver and for their absolute lack of self-preservation. Their city accent was strong and the words rolled off their tongue smoothly. Ghoul assumed they were full of themself. They were, a little bit.

“On the fifth day, I asked for another grenade after lurking around the shop for half an hour and you just told me to fuck off.”

“Ya turned so red in the face.” Ghoul giggles at the memory. He hadn’t expected the famous daredevil Party Poison to blush like that. It was the first time he’d seen a crack in the mask. “Felt a bit sorry for ya.”

“Yeah, but ya did sell me a grenade that day.” Party grins and tucks a strand of hair away behind their ear. Their hand always looks elegant when they move it like that, in spite of the bitten-down nails. “Overcharged me though.”

Ghoul snorts. He did overcharge them. 

“Didn’t think I’d see ya again after that,” he admits.

“Kobra kicked my ass. Was his idea with the grenades in the first place, well, with the grenade. He thought I would manage on the first try.” Party chuckles and their cheeks turn pink again. Memories like these are the reason Ghoul made the box. He wants to hold on to them for as long as he can. “Had a massive crush on you. Whenever we ran into ya somewhere, I’d talk about it for hours afterwards. He was really fed up with me.”

Ghoul smirks. He thinks he would have had a crush on Party back then, too, if he hadn’t assumed they were out of his league. He was good at guarding himself when they first met. He was good at telling people to fuck off.

“I figured. Took me a while though. Ya were shit at expressing yourself.”

“Oi!” Party tries to frown, but the corners of their eyes look soft. “I’m the one who asked you out.”

“You bought another grenade,” Ghoul corrects. “Then ya dropped that flyer on the counter and ran off.”

“I’m pretty sure I said something, too.”

Ghoul leans over the box to search through it.

“Ya were stuttering and I had no idea what ya wanted. Thought ya were still mad ‘bout the other day. I still have the flyer.”

He pulls it up, a sunbleached piece of paper that had been passed through many hands before it landed on Ghoul’s counter. Someone photocopied the hand-drawn ad for the fair in Zone 6, including a map of the fair layout. A red X marks the spot right next to the booth that sold pre-designed masks. A message is scribbled next to it in the same red ink. By now, Ghoul recognises Party’s handwriting, but back then he was unsure if the message really was meant for him.

Party reaches out to carefully trace the letters. Several words are crossed out and no longer readable.

“I started over several times,” they admit. “Couldn’t find the right words.”

Ghoul figured that in the meantime, too. “Thought ya were just bad at spelling at first.” 

Party snorts. “Three tries and this is what I came up with: meet me there at 2:00? xo. I was a moron. I’m lucky you showed up.”

“Yeah.” Ghoul licks his lips. “I was curious, y’know? Wanted to go to the fair anyway and thought it couldn’t hurt to drop by at the location at that time.”

Party just stares at him blankly for a moment, with that expression they get when trying to process something. “So ya didn’t know it was a date?”

“Well, saw ya standing there, all dolled up, lipstick ‘n that short dress and I realised ya were probably waiting for a date.”

His throat felt tight with jealousy he tried not to acknowledge. He thought that whoever had Party Poison dress up and wait for them with their hands clenched nervously like that had to be the luckiest joy in the Zones.

“‘N then ya saw me ‘n ya lit up ‘n I realised: shit, I’m the luckiest joy in the Zones. Felt unreal at first, y’know?”

Party’s smile turns into something much softer.

“Thought ya wanted something from me at first, like a free detonation gig or something. But ya kept rambling ‘n I figured ya were actually nervous. Kept blushing, too.”

Party covers their face with their hands. They look embarrassed. “Ya had your hair up in that messy bun and you looked so hot, I was so stressed. Didn’t shut up for two seconds, did I? Our first date was an absolute disaster, wasn’t it?”

They always feel the desperate need to fill any silence and it’s worse when they are nervous. Ghoul spent the entire day in awe that someone could talk that much without losing their voice.

“T’was pretty bad,” he agrees. “‘N then they kicked us out ‘cause of the fire.”

Party groans. “Sorry ‘bout that. I really wanted to get you that plushie.”

“Ya did.” Ghoul nudges the torched Mousekat plushie. It showed up on the doorstep of his workshop two days after their failed date, alongside the first letter. It was the plushie that really won Ghoul over.

“Can’t believe you kept it all those years.” Party reaches out to run their fingers through the torched fur.

“Kept the letter, too.” Ghoul checks the box again, pulling out a bright pink letter. This one contains no crossed-out words and Party’s handwriting is neat and pretty. He always assumed they made a draft for this one first. He holds it out to Party.

They take it hesitantly, their touch light and careful. Ghoul never saw Party touch the letters after handing them over before. They belong to Ghoul and although they share almost everything, the letters seem sacred, like they are a part of Party for which they’ll never ask back.

“Would you …?” He clears his throat. “Would ya read it out to me?”

He’s embarrassed to ask and not even sure if he really wants to know what the letter says. He has such a clear image of it in his mind, he doesn’t want anything to mess with it.

Party gives him a look he can’t read. They don’t have a lot of these looks.

“So you really never …?” Party breaks off. They don’t have a lot of times where they run out of words either.

Ghoul shakes his head. “Thought ‘bout it. Never felt right, though.” He considered asking someone to read the letters out to him time and time again. But it had never felt right to share them with anyone, not even with Jet or Kobra. He’d known from the very beginning that the words were meant only for him. “‘S too personal, no? ‘S just between you ‘n me.”

Party nods, but Ghoul catches the grim line next to their lips. They feel hurt while trying not to be. All this time, they must have thought it was between the two of them as well, only to learn that the words they’d been meaning to share had never quite reached Ghoul. It had to be a lonely feeling.

“Would ya please read ‘em out to me now?” Ghoul asks again. It doesn’t matter that it might shatter the beliefs he held dear for so long. What matters is Party. “Wanna know everything you’ve gotta say.”

Party hesitates, but then they unfold the letter, looking surprised by how pretty it is. They clear their throat.

“Dear Fun Ghoul.” They interrupt themself with a nervous chuckle. Their tone is smug and self-confident, as if to make fun of their previous self, but they are not fooling Ghoul. Voicing their emotions makes them uncomfortable, even when looking back at the past. “Destroya, that sounds formal. I’m writing this letter to thank you for our date. I know that it was less than ideal, but I still had a lot of fun. Or rather, I was sweating blood, but I was very happy you gave me a chance at all. I’m sorry for talking so much. I hardly let you get in a word and now I feel stupid for not asking more questions. I really want to know more about you. What’s your favourite song? How did you meet your best friend? I’ll work up the nerves to ask these questions eventually, I promise. I’m also sorry about the whole incident at the shooting booth. I grew nervous because I got the feeling that you don’t like me very much. I really hope I’m wrong about that. You are cool and self-reliant and I really admire the workshop you built for yourself. I feel childish in comparison because I grew up at a city orphanage where we weren’t allowed to make decisions for ourselves at all. It feels like something I still have to learn and you are miles ahead of me already. You are also smart and watchful and this whole time I felt like you could see right through me and notice all the insecurities I usually try to cover up so desperately. I guess I just wanted to prove that I had something to offer to you, even if that something was just a silly Mousekat plushie. You didn’t even ask for it.”

Ghoul chuckles. He didn’t ask for it. Party just pulled him over to the shooting booth and announced that they would win him a price. They were quite cocky about it, too.

“Your arm was swaying like a rat’s tail,” Ghoul says. “Heard rumours ‘bout ya being a great shot ‘n ya were shooting like you’d miss your own foot if ya aimed for it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Party shoves him lightly, but they laugh and bite their lip like they are trying to hide it. “I know it was a stupid idea to steal it after failing to win it,” they continue, “but I’m glad I did.”

Ghoul is still baffled by the fact that they tried to do that. They had already walked off when Party turned around again, face set in a determined expression. They tried to sneak in through the back of the booth, only to fail at that, too. The owner was holding a gun to their head before they could even apologise and it was up to Ghoul to get them out of the situation.

“Setting fire to that booth was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Ghoul snorts. Party didn’t leave him with much of a choice. Both of them are still banned from Zone fairs to this day.

“It made me think that I might have a shot with you after all.”

“T’was the first time I thought that, too,” Ghoul interrupts them. “Thought ya were so out of my league, kept my guard up this whole time. But ya looked so shocked when he pulled his gun on ya, like ya had no clue what to do next. ‘N I realised hotshot Party Poison was actually a loser. So I thought I might as well throw my hat in the ring.”

“Glad ya did.” 

Party pauses and Ghoul nods back at the letter in their hand.

“I was ready to give up, but I kept thinking about you lighting that fire and the way you laughed when they kicked us out like you didn’t really care about being banned from the fair because you had fun with me. So I decided to go back and retrieve this for you. I don’t have much to offer. In fact, all I have to offer is a burnt Mousekat plushie that’s missing an ear, apparently. But if that’s good enough for you, I’d love to see you again. Yours, Party Poison.”

Party starts folding up the letter, but they let out a startled laugh when they spot the postscriptum on the back of the paper. It took Ghoul several weeks to find it.

“P.S: Can I kiss you on our second date?”

Ghoul giggles. “Ya didn’t even try,” he points out.

It took them five dates to kiss at all and it was Ghoul who pulled them in by the collar of their jacket when they dropped him off on his front porch after the race. They joked about it all day, promising to kiss him if Kobra took the lead. Kobra won and Party laughed and bought a round of drinks for everyone while avoiding eye contact.

“Still got the letter ya wrote me afterwards, too.” Ghoul found it pushed through underneath the door of his workshop the next morning. It’s written on a simple sheet of white paper and he always assumed that Party wrote it sitting on his front porch at night before driving off. It has a perfect lipstick print in the bottom left corner where Party kissed the paper. It’s the same lipstick they wore that night.

Ghoul unfolds it before holding it out to Party.

They take it with an embarrassed look on their face. The letter is quite short.

“Dear Ghoul,” they read. “Thank you thank you thank you! I wanted to kiss you so badly today and I let that on, didn’t I? I had it all planned out, but then I chickened out. Luckily, you were braver than me! You really have a way of getting me out of my own head, you know that? I’m so happy right now, I can’t even bring myself to drive home, even though it’s weird to sit here on your front porch. I just want to bang on your front door and kiss you again, but I’m too chicken for that as well. I’m kissing this paper instead until next time. Yours, Party.”

Party smiles while they read as if they can still taste that first kiss on their lips. It tasted like lipstick and cheap booze.

Ghoul chuckles. “Ya just kept talking. Lost patience with you.” He also saw the nervousness Party tried to cover up with words.

“‘S when I fell for you.” Party places the letter on the mattress carefully, looking down at their hands. “Didn’t include that in the letter, but that’s when I knew. Had spent all day in my head thinking ‘bout how to kiss you, and you just grabbed me and did it. You do the stuff I only ever talk about. Felt like being pulled down and finally feeling solid ground underneath my feet.”

Ghoul reaches out and squeezes their hand. He isn’t quite sure when he fell in love with Party. One day, he just woke up next to them and no longer felt scared that they would disappear.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he says.

“It’s embarrassing though.” Party scrunches up their nose and looks down at the lipstick print. “I sound silly.”

“Ya want silly?” Ghoul teases and looks through the letters until he pulls up another white sheet of paper, ripped out of a notebook, the edges frayed. “Wait til ya read this one. ‘S one of my favourites.”

Party frowns at the paper.

“Why does it look like that?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Ghoul nudges their knee. “Ya wrote that one on the old mattress back at the workshop. Y’know, the lumpy one, before we replaced it?”

The handwriting in this letter is wonky, because of the uneven surface it was written on. They refused to get up, their heated bodies still touching.

“Oh shit.” Party turns pink, the colour clashing with their hair. “Don’t make me read that.”

“Please,” Ghoul says. “‘S the first time I saw ya write, y’know?” Instead of falling asleep next to him, Party started writing as if the words forced their way out, still flushed and sweaty. They smiled the entire time.

“Ghoulie!” Party smirks at the change of tone. “We just did it! I’m so happy! That was so amazing! You’re amazing! I can’t stop grinning! I really want to tell you how happy I am, but I can’t do it to your face. I’m too embarrassed, so I’ll write it down instead. It took us longer than expected, didn’t it?” 

They dated for the better part of a year before they slept with each other for the first time. Ghoul had seen through Party’s self-assured act pretty quickly. Neither of them was in a rush.

“We never talked about it, but I was actually really nervous about this. I didn’t always have the best relationship with my body and I was scared about freaking out.”

Their letters are so large that they take up several pages. The paper rustles as Party moves on to the second page.

“The fact that I care so much about you somehow made it harder. I really didn’t want to ruin this by growing uncomfortable.”

Ghoul hadn’t known they’d shared this with him. He always assumed the letter was just a gushing recollection of what had just happened, maybe spiced up by a couple of innuendoes. He had read between the lines before the letter was even written though. Party’s silence and the hesitation in their touch had told him all he needed to know. He did his best to make them feel comfortable. He kissed them slowly from head to toe.

“But it was perfect! You were perfect! You were so patient and made me feel so safe and beautiful. And you’re really hot, by the way! You know I think that, but wow. I’m so lucky. I still can’t believe how lucky I am! Best day of my life! And I’m getting to look at you right now! Naked! xo PP.” Party makes a face. “When did I ever sign with PP?”

Ghoul grins smugly. “Ya were in a rush to wrap it up, if I remember correctly.”

Now Party grins, too. “Good times,” they say. The pages look crumpled because they ended up underneath them at some point during the night.

Ghoul studies the remaining letters inside the box. There are some he’s curious about, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood. 

“I’m just amazed you kept them all. And that you remember, even though you can’t …” Party breaks off as if they don’t want to embarrass him by saying it out loud. It stings.

“They tell me a lot, y’know? Even if I can’t read the words, ‘s like I can read the letters, right?”

Ghoul leans forward to search for one in particular, moving too hastily because he wants to show Party that they can rely on him, that he’s still all the things they always saw in him. He holds up a card, sparkling and handmade, like the invitation to a fancy ball.

“Like this one, yeah? Our first anniversary of moving into the diner together. Ya had this whole dinner planned, just for the two of us. It’s so pretty, see? ‘S for a special occasion. Ya made it beforehand, probably weeks in advance. But then your writing looks like this.”

Ghoul opens the card to reveal Party’s scribbly handwriting that fills every inch of paper.

“Bet ya did it last minute. Ya wanted to say something big ‘n meaningful ‘n then ran out of time before ya could find the right words, ‘cause ya wanted the dinner to be perfect.”

Party takes the card to look at it. They don’t say anything.

“‘S what the card tells me,” Ghoul concludes, almost stubbornly. “That you’re grateful for our relationship ‘n that you wanted to prove that. ‘N you’re apologising for all the things that ain’t perfect, though I never asked for it to be perfect, ‘n you’re just being stupid. Card tells me that ya love me ‘n also that you’re way too hard on yourself.”

Party licks their lips. “My beloved Fun Ghoul.” It seems easier for them to read out the words that are already written than reacting to what Ghoul just said. “We’ve been living together for an entire year now and it has without a doubt been the happiest year of my life so far. I was scared when we first made this decision and I wasn’t convinced it was going to last. But I feel lucky to wake up next to you every day and to always be surrounded by the people I love. I never thought I’d find a space that makes me feel this safe, but you helped me build that place for our family. I am so grateful that you chose to be with me. I wish I could express my gratitude better, but I’m running out of time. You’ll be home soon and the table still isn’t set. I’m sorry that this celebration isn’t nearly what you deserve. I planned on having fireworks, but my source dropped out at the last moment. I’ll do my best to make this the best night for you anyway. I love you so much. Always yours, Party.”

“There were supposed to be fireworks?” Ghoul makes sure.

Party shrugs awkwardly. “Maybe it’s for the best that it didn't work out. The night was awful.”

“Thought it was romantic,” Ghoul points out. “Ya held my hair while I threw up.”

Party frowns. “Those damned canned fruits for dessert. Tommy swore they were good past the expiration date. Just wanted something special.”

Ghoul smirks. They gathered all the food they could find, dishes no one in the Zones had heard of before. The canned fruits certainly weren’t the only thing already expired that night.

“It was sweet. Was happy you put in so much effort.”

Party carefully places the card on the bed. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you? You knew exactly how hard I was trying. Knew that I apologised, too.”

Ghoul hesitates. He wants them to believe that he knows them inside and out, even if it’s not entirely true.

“There’s some I never figured out,” he admits. “Still don’t know what they mean.”

“Yeah?” Party licks their lips again and looks at Ghoul through their lashes. There’s an offer in their gaze, but it’s still hesitant. They don’t usually talk, not like this anyway. “Maybe I could help with that?”

Ghoul hesitates, wondering where to start. Then he picks out a short letter tucked right into the front of the box. It’s old and worn. The paper was pretty once, a beautiful shade of green, with ornaments drawn across both sides, but the edges are frayed, because Ghoul folded and unfolded it so many times already. He stared at this letter for hours, looking for a hint, trying to figure out what it was about. It wasn’t attached to any specific date, nothing significant happened before or after. Party seemed in a good mood when they gave it to him.

“Always wondered ‘bout this one.”

Party takes the letter and barks out a quick laugh once their eyes fall onto the page.

“Dear Ghoulie,” they read. “Girlie’s in the room, so I can’t tell you directly, at least not in so many words. But this low-cut shirt is probably illegal in at least 5 out of 6 Zones. I can’t stop staring at you. Destroya, my boyfriend is so hot! How did I get this lucky? Wanna tear it off with my teeth. You drive me wild. Yours, Party.”

Ghoul clears his throat, unsure what to say. He wonders how many of the letters he misjudged throughout the years, how many of them actually contain confessions of all the feelings he thought Party could express only with gestures, not with words.

“Thanks,” he says.

“It’s still true, by the way,” Party adds. They manage to sound smug, but their hands look restless as they set down the letter. “You still drive me wild. Still think I scored the hottest joy in the Zones.”

“Think so, too,” Ghoul says. When he doesn’t want the Girl to overhear, he usually whispers into Party’s ear. 

“Anything else?” Party sounds eager and excited. They sound like all the letters will be fun.

“I …” Ghoul breaks off. “There are some I’d like to talk ‘bout.”

Party’s expression freezes over, which means they noticed the change in Ghoul’s tone. He almost expects them to get up and leave.

“Okay,” they say instead, but it’s followed by a pause, “which ones do you want to hear?”

Ghoul doesn’t need to think this time. He pulls out a letter written on thick, white paper. It looks formal.

“It’s Girlie,” he says.

“I thought …” Party doesn’t take the letter yet. “I thought you read that one for sure. Nobody told you?” They pause again. “You said all the right things.”

Ghoul knocked on their bedroom door that night the same way Party did today. He told them that they wouldn’t have to be perfect: because Party had a shit childhood and they grew into the most amazing person. He reminded them that they loved each other and that they would love her and maybe that wasn’t enough, but it was more than either of them had while growing up.

“Told ya,” he says. “I know ya.”

Party nods. They look at the letter like they really don’t want to read it, but like they want to talk about it instead even less.

“Dear Ghoul, this letter isn’t going to be a whole lot of fun and for that I apologise in advance.”

Ghoul tries not to scoff. He knew they would apologise once again.

“A lot of things have been on my mind lately and a part of me feels selfish for burdening anyone with them, but it’s not fair to lock you out either. I know you worry about me. I haven’t slept very well recently, have I? I’m sorry for always keeping you up at night.”

Ghoul chews on his bottom lip. Somehow it hurts to realise that Party knows how much he worries.

“Today we voted on Girlie. The decision wasn’t easy on me. This morning, I was still convinced I would vote against keeping her at the diner.”

Ghoul hadn’t known that. For him, keeping Girlie was always the only option. The vote had been unanimous.

“I honestly don’t feel well equipped to raise a child. I adore Girlie, but that also means I wish she would lead a better life than the one we have to offer. I know that it’s not safe anywhere in the Zones, but we could find her a crew with other kids, or adults who have already raised children before. Neither of us have any experience. How will we provide for her? How are we going to set her boundaries? We can’t even agree on a schedule for doing laundry.”

Party pauses to swallow loud enough for Ghoul to hear.

“I watched over Kobra while we were younger, but I didn’t do a great job. You know how he gets. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe he carries all that baggage around with him because I wasn’t able to shield him from this bullshit. I can’t do that to another person. I feel like I’m inevitably going to fail her because I’m not strong enough. It’s too much responsibility and I don’t think I should be in charge of someone’s life like that. She will look up to me, because kids always look up to their parents, even if they don’t deserve it. And I don’t know how to be the role model she needs. It’s hard enough with people watching from a distance. Party Poison is a concept, but once you step closer, it falls apart and she deserves something stable.”

Ghoul wants to remind them that not everything is their responsibility all the time, but they already carry on.

“I’m scared when I think of her future. It’s too overwhelming and I want to run away from all of it. I’m sorry for being such a coward and for not being able to live up to the expectations people have in me. But maybe I’m not so much of a coward after all, am I? In the end, I decided to vote for her stay, because you make me feel brave. You know what changed my mind? Watching you put her to sleep for her afternoon nap today. I’m sure you are painfully aware of all the parenting guides I borrowed from Gertie recently to figure out how much sleep a toddler her age needs and how to implement structure into her days. But today, when the time for her afternoon nap came, she wasn’t tired! I was close to having a breakdown because I didn’t know how to fix the situation. Did I have to be stern? Should we just leave her be? There were too many decisions to be made and I had all those parenting guides in my head and no idea what to do. And then you took her outside to play. You challenged her to race you and after thirty minutes, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep in your arms as you carried her back inside.”

Ghoul frowns. He doesn’t remember the incident, because it seemed so insignificant to him.

“It reminded me of our first kiss. I kept thinking about what to do, while you took action. Back then, I decided that I wanted to spend my life with you. And today I decided that I want to have a family with you, Ghoulie. When we first met, you were quiet and distant and I thought you didn’t like me very much. But once I earned your trust, you transformed into someone so full of love and care that it took my breath away. And when you are with her, I see that person and I see all the love and care you have to give. I can’t take that away from either one of you. I might not be the parent she deserves, but you are. That doesn’t mean we’ll always get it right, but I know that if I feel too overwhelmed and freeze, you will be there to catch us both. I don’t trust myself, but I trust you. And in the end, I voted to let her stay, because I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity to create a space that feels safe for our entire family. And also, I get to call you daddy now. With a scared heart and infinite love, Party.”

Party lowers the letter and for a moment, Ghoul doesn’t know what to say.

“Have you ever regretted it?” he asks.

Party shakes their head. “Never.”

Ghoul wonders if there is anything more to say. “She’s turning out alright.”

“Yeah.” Party smiles.

“I knew ya wouldn’t blow it,” Ghoul says. “Ya did good.” He thinks of the Girl’s cocky tone and the way she can already talk her way out of everything. All four of them are her parents, but she is Party’s daughter. That’s how he knows she’s going to be alright.

“Anything else?” Party changes the topic. The atmosphere feels tense now and their hands turn fidgety. Ghoul can see that they want to reach for the next letter already, so they have something to hold, so they know where to look and which words to say. 

“I always thought …” He clears his throat. “We should talk ‘bout Kobra.”

He waits for Party’s reaction, until they give the tiniest shrug. Only then does he pick up the letter.

This one is written on a plain sheet as well, a lot of sentences are crossed out and the words nearly pierce through the paper. Still, Ghoul was relieved when he received the letter. He found it in the morning, lying in front of Kobra’s door where Party locked themself in every night during the Kid’s hospital stay. Ghoul could hear them screaming through the walls at night, but they kept the door shut tightly, even after they knew that Kobra was going to make it. The letter was their first attempt at communicating in almost a week.

“Shit, this is depressing,” Party states and looks down at their own handwriting. It’s smudged in places and the paper is stained. Ghoul assumes they were crying while they wrote it. The front page is missing a corner, as if they started tearing up the paper, but then decided against it. “Ya sure ya wanna hear this? It’s all in the past now.”

“It was bothering ya. Felt like I couldn’t really be there for ya at the time.” Ghoul scratches his arm. He sat awake at night, listening to Party’s wailing, his knocks on the door unanswered. During the days, Party stayed busy, driving up to the hospital, organising a supply run to make sure Kobra got the best meds available, playing with the Girl to keep her distracted. They never slowed down enough to even make eye contact with Ghoul. For two weeks, Ghoul had been as scared for them as he had been for Kobra.

“Ya probably figured it anyway. Beat myself up over what happened, ‘s all.”

Ghoul reaches out to nudge their knee just to touch them. “Come on. Tell me.”

Party sighs. “Ghoul, I’m sorry for moving into Kobra’s room. Are you mad at me? I know it probably hurts your feelings that I’m trying to get away from you. I don’t want you to think that it’s something you did. I just need space. It’s the middle of the night right now and I hope you are asleep. I’m awake, just like I’ve been awake those past few nights. A part of me wishes you were here to hold me right now. But another part of me can’t stand to be near you, because I feel like I don’t deserve that kind of comfort, not while Kobra is at the hospital all by himself. Are you blaming me? I know you don’t. You’ll tell me that this wasn’t my fault, once I’m ready to hear it.”

It was, in fact, the first thing Ghoul said to them once they slipped into their bed in the middle of the night somewhere during the third week. After that, he held them silently.

“I’m the one who planned the run and gave the order to split up. We should put it behind us already, but I think neither of us can. You look tired and worried, I saw your face while we stood next to the hospital bed today. I wish I was able to comfort you, but I don’t have it in me. I’m sorry for being selfish and for burdening you with another thing to worry about. I’m the one who is keeping you up at night, am I not? Please be assured that I will be alright. I just need time. This whole thing scared me.”

It scared all of them. For about 48 hours, they didn’t know if Kobra would make it at all. 

“I keep thinking that next time we might not be so lucky. Next time, it might be you, or Girlie.”

Party’s voice cracks and they take a moment before they continue. Everything else is in the past, but the fear isn’t.

“I didn’t realise how much I love all of you. When we adopted Girlie, I only thought of the ways we might fail her. I thought we might die and leave her alone, making her an orphan once again and that it wouldn’t be fair to let her grow attached to us when there was no safety in any of it. But when we heard about Kobra on the radio, it occurred to me for the first time that I might lose someone. What if we lose her, Ghoul? I always thought I’d be the first to go, but now I realise that being left behind would be much scarier. You have to carry all that grief with you, and all of the guilt, because you couldn’t save them. What if I’m not strong enough to save everyone? What if I can’t do it? I’m so scared, Ghoulie. I love you all so much, I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Party.”

Ghoul’s mouth feels dry. He knew about the guilt, but not about the fear. They never addressed it before.

“You’re not responsible for saving everyone,” he says.

“I am,” Party says plainly. “Because I can’t live without you.”

Ghoul swallows. The truth is that he just doesn’t think about it himself. If he thought about losing Party, or the Girl, or anyone from their crew, he’d grow so scared that he would never leave his room.

“Is that what the nightmares are ‘bout?” He always assumed they were flashbacks, memories from their past haunting them. He feels like he misjudged their biggest fear. He could have known years ago, if he had dared to ask.

“Always,” Party says. “I dream of you dying, over and over again. And I am forced to stand by, unable to do anything to prevent it.”

Ghoul thinks of the way Party usually startles awake, hoarse from screaming and clinging to Ghoul like they need to make sure that he is still there, that his body is still warm and alive.

“I’m not gonna leave you.” He says it with all the conviction he can muster.

“Might not be your choice,” Party points out. “Might not be my choice to stay behind either.”

They don’t need to elaborate. Ghoul wouldn’t want to keep living without Party either. If the Girl still needed him, he wouldn’t have a choice though.

“‘S what it means to love someone.” He looks at his box of treasures. It contains Party’s letters, family photos and drawings the Girl made for them. He keeps everything in one place, so it will still be there if he loses them one day.

“It’s scary.” Party’s voice sounds harsh. Ghoul looks up. He sees the room Party filled with stuff they make sure not to care about too much, because they might lose it someday.

It hits Ghoul how differently they deal with the fear of loss. Their common ground is the letters: Ghoul holds on to everything Party doesn’t dare to keep.

“It’s gotten worse lately, hasn’t it?” Ghoul asks softly. “The fear?”

The letter Party gave him today is still resting on top of the stack.

Party turns their head. It’s still too fresh. They write it down, because they can’t say it out loud. The nightmares from last night are probably still vivid in their mind.

“I can’t.”

“Baby.” Ghoul picks up the letter and holds it out to Party. They don’t take it, staring down at the bedsheets instead. “You already told me, yeah? Just gotta voice it.”

He feels desperate, because he’s so close to finally knowing what’s going on in their mind with absolute certainty instead of just taking his best guess.

“I wanna be there for ya. But ya gotta let me.”

Party stays silent for another moment, but then they take the letter. They open it and stare at the words like they need to get acquainted with them again first. They read like they wrote this letter ages ago.

“Fine,” they say. “Just don’t want ya thinking I’m whiny or something. It’s not … it’s not meant to be read out loud, y’know?”

Of course this is their main concern. They hate being a burden, hate asking for anything for themself. Just asking for their feelings to be acknowledged seems like too much already.

“Wanna hear it,” Ghoul insists.

Party clears their throat. They need another moment to gather themself.

“Dear Ghoul, you must be tired. I’m sorry for keeping you up so much recently. It’s gotten bad again, hasn’t it? It’s like I just can’t stop the fears from coming once I close my eyes. Girlie is growing up fast, isn’t she? I’m worrying about her a lot. So far, all we had to do was keep her alive and love her, and I was already unsure if we would manage that, but you gave me the confidence to try. But now she is growing older and she starts asking questions and I don’t have good answers to most of them. What if she asks about her mother? What if she asks why we chose this kind of life for her? I’m growing scared of letting her down again, in a new way this time. But while I am scared of disappointing her, my faith in her also grows. And the reason for that is always you, Ghoulie. Do you know how much she takes after you? She is your daughter most of all and that gives me hope.”

Ghoul opens his mouth to protest, but Party shakes their head. They lower the letter and meet his eyes. For the first time today, they go off-script.

“Seriously, I see you in everything she does. When Jet tells her off and she just stoically does her thing anyway? And the way she observes us? I already feel like she can see right through me. It really does feel like she can read minds sometimes. She got that from you. That and her temper.”

Party chuckles while Ghoul stares at them. She takes after Party. That is what he always believed.

“Anyway.” They turn back to the letter. Ghoul wants to stop them, because he needs time to process, but they already continue. “Because I can see so much of you in her, I know that she is growing into an amazing, headstrong, kind and independent person. I feel scared all the time, even if I’m pretty good at covering it up. I’m scared of rejection, I’m scared of letting people down and I’m scared of losing the ones I love. A part of me just wants to run away from the responsibility. But I’m going to stay. Of course I’m going to stay. It feels like every brave decision I made in my life, I made because of you. I gathered my courage to ask you out on a second date because you set fire to a booth when I got caught and couldn’t run. I voted to keep Girlie because you put her to sleep when I was too overwhelmed to do anything. And I’m going to keep fighting for our future and I’ll be a parent to Girlie because you show me what an amazing person she can be. You make me feel hopeful. I know I’m not doing great at the moment, I’m weak and anxious, but I promise that I’m going to get better. I will get my shit together eventually because you are always there for me. You help me through the nights, but you also help me through the days. I just want to thank you and ask you to bear with me a bit longer. I’m sorry for all the sleepless nights I’m currently causing you. Please be patient with me. I love you so much. Yours, Party.”

They don’t lower the letter, just keep staring at it as if more words might appear on the page if they are patient enough.

“She takes after you,” Ghoul says. There is a lot more he ought to say, but his brain is still stuck on that thought. “The way she talks? All the things she already knows? Destroya, her attitude?”

Party snorts and it sounds like they can’t decide whether to laugh or to sniffle. 

“It’s like watching a lil’ mini Party grow up.”

“I never had that kind of temper. Was never that stubborn either,” Party insists.

Ghoul smiles, because Party has a point. The Girl can give them the silent treatment for hours whereas Party usually cracks within the first ten minutes. 

“She’s amazing, ain’t she?”

“Yeah,” Party confirms. “No idea how we did that.”

Ghoul finally figured out how they did it, though. “Together,” he says. “We did that together.” It’s how they did everything throughout the years - how they created this space, where they feel safe and loved, although neither of them had a role model for that growing up, how they dealt with hardships and how they built their family. That’s why the Girl combines so many of their best traits - because they raised her together.

“I guess.” Party still seems indecisive.

“Meant what I said, by the way. Ya ain’t a bother. Don’t need to apologise for keeping me up at night.” Ghoul hesitates. “Kind of like it, y’know? When ya cry ‘n I get to hold ya.”

“Well, thanks a lot.” Party sounds dry and sarcastic, the way they only do when they are hurt.

“‘S the only time ya allow yourself to need me,” Ghoul adds softly. “Ya never ask for anything. I just wanna be there for ya.”

Party doesn’t reply right away and they don’t look at Ghoul either.

“‘S why I love the letters so much. Ya don’t really share with me otherwise.”

“Sorry.” Party runs their hand through their hair. They look like they want to move, preferably out of this room. “Don’t mean to keep you out.”

“No, hey, ‘s fine.” Ghoul reaches out to catch their hand, so they can’t hide their face behind it. “I know ya. Don’t mind looking out for ya. Always did that. Just want ya to know that it’s okay to ask if ya wanna.”

Party looks at the ceiling. They are tearing up, their lashes are already sticking together.

“Okay,” they say so softly, it’s barely audible.

“‘N talking ‘bout it might help,” Ghoul carries on hesitantly. “Nightmares might not be so bad if ya didn’t just ignore it.”

Party shrugs. They are still trying very hard not to cry. 

“I’m not good at talking ‘bout it, sorry.” Their voice sounds choked with suppressed tears. They so badly want to be what they think Ghoul needs them to be.

“Ya already do, though.” Ghoul taps one of the letters. “Maybe ya could read ‘em out to me from now on? To let me know what ya need?”

It takes a moment, but then Party nods. “Yeah, I think we could try that.”

“Good. ‘N we can start small, yeah? Don’t need to explain yourself to me. Just, y’know, lemme know you’re feeling things without apologising for it sometimes?”

Party manages a wry smile.

Ghoul moves back on the bed and pushes the letters aside to make space for Party, before he extends his arms. “Now c’mere.”

Party crawls close without hesitation, nearly flinging themself into Ghoul’s arms. They bury their face against his chest, their body heavy, but Ghoul loves the feeling of them physically relying on him.

He reaches up and strokes their hair.

“I’m scared, Ghoulie,” they whisper against his neck. They sound almost relieved saying it.

Ghoul continues caressing their hair. He knows that any pep talk he could possibly give is going to be pointless. They are both aware that out here in the desert, nothing is ever certain.

“I’m scared, too,” he says instead. Because like everything else, being scared will be a little easier if they do it together.

He feels Party relaxing in his arms, their breath slowly evening out. Maybe they’ll finally manage to catch some sleep.

He starts humming a quiet melody, because it sometimes helps lull Party back to sleep. Their body is warm and even heavier now that they are completely relaxed.

Ghoul looks at their red shock of hair and their bare calf where the skirt has ridden up, and he looks at all the letters sprawled out on the mattress around them. Together, they tell their story, which is so much more than a romance. It’s the story of Jet and Kobra and the Girl, too. It’s about moving into the diner, about good dates as well as bad ones, about love and all the scary things that come with it.

“Hey, Party,” Ghoul whispers, not wanting to startle them.

Party turns their head and makes a sleepy noise.

“The box,” Ghoul says and looks at the wooden box and the colourful letters on its front. He wonders what to call a place that holds all these memories, some of them happy, some of them sad, all of them shared and all of them full of love. “What does it say?”

“Oh, that,” Party mumbles and Ghoul catches their smile before they close their eyes to finally go to sleep. “Home.”