Chapter Two-Hundred Ninety-Nine: Midnight Revelations

Chapter 299

Midnight Revelations

The sleek purple Ferrari rolled into the underground executive garage beneath Donati Tower and parked in the reserved slot beside Demetrio’s vacant limousine. Jordi stepped out and grabbed his leather briefcase.

Passing through the secure subterranean lobby, he ignored the low hum of nervous staff murmurs echoing through the polished marble foyer. Word of the CEO’s hospitalization, along with the swarm of rats, had clearly spread like wildfire, and the tension in the skyscraper was palpable. Jordi approached the private executive elevator bank. He reached into his lapel pocket, pulled out the heavy gold-rimmed security card, and swiped it across the digital sensor.

A crisp, high-pitched chime signaled clearance. The sensor light flashed from crimson to a steady, approving green.

The elevator surged upward with silent, rapid acceleration, the floors flying by on the digital display. Jordi adjusted his black tie in the mirror, letting the cold, focused resolve of an executive assistant settle over his shoulders.

At the sixty-fourth floor, the doors parted. Behind the primary reception desk, Demetrio’s executive secretary shot up from her chair the moment she saw his purple hair and sharp silhouette.

Executive Secretary: “Jordi! Thank heavens!”

She breathed, clutching a stack of manila folders against her chest.

Executive Secretary: “Two board members are already pacing near the conference room, and the legal department has been calling down from forty-five every fifteen minutes.”

Jordi: “Let them wait.”

He replied smoothly, his tone cool, unyielding, and completely in command.

Jordi: “I just left Demetrio's bedside at the hospital. I have power of attorney for the southern municipal grid files. Bring the final contracts into his office, close the door, and don’t patch a single call through until I've put ink to the municipal agreements.”

The secretary nodded quickly, visibly relieved to have someone steady taking the reins. She gathered the thick stack of municipal documents, led Jordi into Demetrio’s corner office, and set the files squarely in the center of the massive desk. With a murmur that she would hold all calls, she pulled the heavy double oak doors shut, sealing out the frantic noise of the sixty-fourth floor.

The sprawling office fell into heavy, focused silence, broken only by the muffled hum of the skyscraper’s ventilation and the breathtaking, sun-washed sprawl of Pink Top City extending beneath the glass.

Jordi set his leather briefcase on the credenza. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he produced a slim leather case and withdrew a pair of sleek, black square-framed glasses. He slid them up the bridge of his nose, the clean lines of the frames instantly sharpening his angular features and lending his gaze an extra edge of razor-sharp executive focus.

Sitting in the high-backed leather chair behind Demetrio’s desk, Jordi uncapped a heavy gold fountain pen and pulled the southern grid municipal utility contracts toward him.

Page by page, clause by clause, he combed through the fine print. His eyes flicked across the tariff structures, zoning easements, and emergency reserve allocations, making sure the board hadn’t slipped in any predatory riders while Demetrio fought for his life in the ICU. Finding the terms clean and completely aligned with Donati’s directives, Jordi turned to the final addendum.

Beneath the line designated for Demetrio Donati, CEO, Jordi signed his own name with a fluid, practiced flourish:

Jordi Vaquero, Executive Proxy & Power of Attorney

He stamped the corporate seal into the heavy parchment with a firm, resounding thud, letting the crimson wax impression bind the southern power grid to Donati, Inc. for the next decade.

Setting the pen down, Jordi glanced at the digital clock on the desk. Eleven-fifteen in the morning. The contracts were secure, the board’s panic was effectively neutralized, and the company was locked down.

He took off his square-framed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his thoughts cutting straight through the corporate fog of the tower and flying several miles south—back to the quiet bedroom in his and Jaxon’s house, where he held his beloved boyfriend. Jordi slid his glasses back on and went back to work.

~

With a final, crisp stroke of the fountain pen, Jordi set it back into its mahogany cradle. He gathered the heavy, signed documents, tapped them into neat alignment on the blotter, and slotted them into a red-crested executive folio.

He stood, slid his square-framed glasses off, and returned them to their leather case in his jacket pocket. Opening the door, Jordi found the secretary hovering near her desk with a pen poised over a buzzing telephone line.

Jordi: “The southern grid contracts are executed.”

He said, handing the folio over with calm authority.

Jordi: “Courier the municipal originals to the mayor’s office immediately. Deliver copies to corporate legal on forty-five, and inform the board members pacing in the hall that the executive authority has been exercised. Any further caucus meetings are dismissed until Demetrio gives the word.”

The secretary let out a long breath of relief, clutching the completed files.

Executive Secretary: “Right away, Mr. Vaquero. What if the board demands an in-person briefing?”

Jordi: “Tell them I’ve returned to Demetrio’s side at Pink Top General Hospital.”

He replied smoothly, checking the time on his wristwatch.

Jordi: “They can take any grievances up with his doctor’s visiting hours.”

With the conglomerate steady and the wolves locked out of the henhouse, Jordi bypassed the executive floor without another word. He swiped his keycard, took the private elevator straight down to the parking deck, and walked back to the purple Ferrari 328. His day in the cutthroat corporate towers was over.

~

The Ferrari purred in Jordi and Jaxon’s driveway, the rhythmic rumble cutting off with a clean turn of the key. Stepping out into the afternoon air, Jordi unlocked the front door and pushed into the cool, silent sanctuary of the house.

He unzipped his black boots and slid them off by the console table, sighing as his feet, clad in fine black sheer socks, hit the cool hardwood. Unbuttoning his sharp Italian-cut suit jacket, he slipped it off his shoulders and draped it neatly over the back of an entryway chair, loosened his black tie, and popped open the top button of his purple shirt.

Before doing anything else, he moved down the quiet hall and gently eased the master bedroom door open.

Inside, the curtains were drawn, casting the room in soft, amber twilight. Jaxon was sprawled beneath the heavy quilts, fast asleep. The ceramic mug of jasmine tea sat empty on the nightstand. His breathing was deep, slow, and undisturbed; his wild halo of black hair was tossed against the pillows, and the feverish, chaotic flush from the night before was completely gone.

Jordi watched him for a quiet moment, the relentless knot of corporate tension finally unspooling in his chest. Satisfied that his boyfriend was resting without nightmares, Jordi pulled the door shut with a muffled click.

Stepping quietly in his socks, he entered the open-plan kitchen. Moving toward the wet bar, he retrieved a heavy crystal lowball glass, dropped in two ice cubes, and splashed in a healthy measure of dark amber bourbon, watching the golden liquid spin against the multifaceted glass.

He set the glass down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a sleek silver Zippo and a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one free, slipped it between his lips, and flicked the lighter.

A sharp, metallic clink split the stillness, followed by the scrape of the flint wheel. The flame cast a warm, flickering glow over his sharp features. Jordi drew in a slow, deep breath, the cigarette tip flaring bright cherry red.

He snapped the Zippo shut with a crisp, echoing ping, exhaling a lazy ribbon of thin blue smoke toward the ceiling before lifting the glass for a slow, bracing sip of bourbon.

~

The tires of Blair’s 1987 blue Toyota Corolla hummed softly against the asphalt as he navigated the dark roads leading toward Greammoom Hills. Settling back into the driver’s seat, Blair kept a firm grip on the steering wheel while the automatic transmission shifted smoothly through the gears. Beside him in the passenger seat sat Yoshi, cradling a Panasonic Omnimovie camera in his lap and bouncing excitedly.

Clad in a navy varsity jacket over a Green Lantern T-shirt, jeans, and high-top sneakers, Yoshi leaned against the door and gazed out the window as the quiet neighborhood passed by. Blair, wearing a nylon Batman windbreaker over his green Woodsy Owl shirt, glanced at his friend, let out a heavy sigh, then focused back on the road ahead.

Turning onto Orchard Street, Blair slowed the Corolla and stopped in front of the Gothic Victorian mansion. Through the windshield, the manor’s dark silhouette rose against the night sky, lit by the twin moons. Blair shifted the transmission into park, turned off the engine, and unbuckled his seatbelt. Outside, the soft, luminescent glow of fairies hovered above the nearby garden, casting a gentle light across the stone pathway ahead. Carrying his camera, Yoshi pushed open his door and strolled down the path, with Blair following close behind in his red sneakers.

Nearby, the soothing sound of a babbling brook provided a peaceful backdrop to the calm night, while colorful flowers in the garden swayed and rustled in the soft evening wind. In the center of the expansive front lawn stood a grand, three-tiered marble fountain. Water cascaded gently over its carved stone lips into a wide circular basin below, glistening like liquid silver under the moonlight and casting shimmering reflections across the manicured grass.

Yoshi: “Blair, you don’t know how many movies I got out of this thing from this mansion. It’s HOURS and HOURS and boobies bouncing and girls! This place is like those sorority dorms we see in the movies we watch on USA Up All night!”

He smirked.

Blair: “I don’t watch those gross movies, Yoshi! They do nothing for me! Why are we here at this dump where Ashley is staying when they could be sleeping in my racecar bed over cocoa on this cold night?”

He huffed, folding his arms.

They went up the steps, the wood creaking under their weight.

Yoshi went to the living room window and gazed out with a big grin. Blair glanced in and rolled his eyes until he saw Ashley. Ashley, Madelyn, Nari, Juniper, and Lena sat in the living room.

Blair couldn't tear his eyes away from Ashley, who was moving briskly across the room with a freshly baked tray of sugar cookies decorated with orange icing in the shape of cute cat faces for the group. They wore a crimson lantern-sleeve top paired with sunburned orange bell-bottom trousers featuring intricate gold paisley embellishments. Madelyn, clad in a shimmering lily-pad-green gown adorned with pearl beading along the edges, let out a cheerful laugh at a remark they made.

Over near the couch, Juniper stood tall above the rest, styled in a vibrant orange crop top and a sweeping, multicolored skirt covered in whimsical mushroom and paisley designs. Tucked into a shadowed corner, Nari stood draped in an elegant black lace dress, gently petting the raven resting on her hand. Lena sat in a knee-length floral sundress with dramatic angel sleeves and delicate ruffle accents along the V-neck.

Yoshi: “I bet they’re talking about how big their boobs are… like in Sorority Slumber Party!”

He giggled and grinned inanely. Blair’s eyes were glued to Ashley as they bent over to pet Stella’s head.

Blair: “Well, Ashley’s boobs aren’t big, but their butt sure is.”

He muttered.

Lena leaned over to take a cookie. She ate it delicately, savoring the flavors.

Lena: “These are really good, Ashley!”

Ashley brightened up with her kind words.

Ashley: “Thanks, Lena!”

They exclaimed.

Madelyn: “Ooh, I love the little cat faces!”

She marveled at the cutesy cat faces drawn onto them with chocolate icing.

Lena: “Me too!”

Madelyn: “You bake too, yeah?”

She asked Lena, turning to her across the couch.

Lena: “Yes, I do! I bake all the time at home and… for this guy I like.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. Juniper leaned forward with curiosity.

Juniper: “Oooh, who’s the lucky guy?”

She chimed in with a bright smile.

Lena blushed and covered her face with her hands.

Lena: “He… He drew a butterfly for me… He works at Danny Donger’s as a waiter and lives across the street from me.”

She said, fiddling with her locket.

Juniper: “Oh, that’s so romantic!”

She smiled with sincerity. Ashley titled their head as they pieced it all together.

Ashley: “Wait… are you talking about Fabien?!”

Their eyes widened at her. Lena’s face turned a shade redder when Ashley mentioned his name.

Juniper: “That’s a really nice name!”

She exclaimed.

Ashley shifted in their seat.

Ashley: “Uhh, isn’t he with Celeste?”

They tilted their head and scratched it awkwardly.

Lena: “I guess so, but he’s always nice to me at Danny Donger’s! He drove me home and saved me from this evil man who pretended to be a cop but was a sex trafficker and Tristan’s uncle.”

She embraced herself. Ashley gasped and cupped their mouth.

Ashley: “Oh my stars! Are you okay?”

They leaned forward and gently placed their hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Lena nodded.

Lena: “I am because of Fabien. I was so scared…”

She trembled.

Lena: “He drove me home after his shift, and we were detoured. We saw clown dolls on the highway, and he was protective of me… I was scared when that cop pulled him over, but the policeman was actually a sex trafficker. He took me to an abandoned hospital, and then Narcisse came in…”

She pursed her lips.

Lena: “Fabien saved me. He carried me home and tucked me into bed.”

She said softly. They all turned to her, taking in her traumatic story.

Juniper: “Wow, it sounds like you have your knight in shining armor! That’s so romantic!”

She beamed. Ashley was perplexed and surprised by Fabien’s actions.

Ashley: “Wow, really?!”

Maybe he and Celeste broke up? They wondered. They hadn’t heard from Celeste in a while, so maybe that’s why she had been quiet lately.

Lena: “Yes!”

She said, her Byzantine eyes glittering.

Yoshi: “I think… She’s talking about the sexiest studs in Pink Top City.”

He smiled.

Blair: “Who?”

Yoshi: “Us!”

Blair rolled his eyes. He didn’t care about that. He was fixated on Ashley and hoped they were telling the girls that Jordi never loved them because they were so fat, but Blair was always there to save them.

Nari: “Did he tickle you?”

She chimed in, fixing her gaze on Lena. Lena flushed a deep shade of red.

Lena: “N-No! B-But he did tease it when Ivy invited me to her father’s club to watch him do that snake dance…”

She murmured.

Nari: “Have you ever been tickled before?”

She stroked her chin. Lena looked away.

Lena: “Just by Narcisse… who is Tristan’s weird uncle.”

She pouted.

Nari: “You poor thing… you’ve never been tickled properly!”

Nari declared with dramatic sympathy, snapping her black feathered fan shut before casually waving it in front of her face.

Outside, the faint sound of footsteps, accompanied by the distinct clink-clank and jingle of heel chains scraping against the wooden steps, caught Yoshi and Blair’s attention. Blair initially assumed his grandfather had sent Shauna or an errand boy to remind him about his constipation medicine since he’s in the hospital, but Fabien casually strolled up the steps.

He wore a leather jacket over a Boston band tank top, jeans, and snip-toe cowboy boots with a prominent black leather ankle harness strap studded with silver metal and attached via O-rings to a chain running under the heel.

Fabien: “Hey, guys, emulating that Slumber Party movie?”

He laughed.

Yoshi: “Yeah! They’re wanting to have sex with Blair and me.”

Blair: “I don’t want to do it with anyone, except Ashley! And doing it before marriage is bad! I’m gonna do it AFTER marriage!”

He huffed. Fabien laughed at Blair.

Lena: “N-No, I guess not…”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and fiddled with her locket.

Nari: “That’s so tragic!”

She declared with exaggerated pity, snapping her fan open and shut. A mischievous grin curled across Nari’s black-painted lips as her eyes locked onto Lena, who instantly turned bright red right to the tips of her ears.

Nari: “But… it doesn’t have to be that way.”

She placed her hand to her lips and chortled, kneeling and fluttering the fan across Lena’s bare soles against the couch. Lena shrieked and laughed.

Lena: “HEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHO!!”

She laughed and writhed.

Madelyn laughed.

Madelyn: “TICKLE FIGHT!”

She announced, then pounced on Ashley, fluttering her fingertips along their soft sides. Ashley gasped and burst into joyful laughter.

Ashley: “HAHAHA AHA HE EHE HEEHEHEHEHEEHEEEEEE HE AH AHA AH AHA OH-HO HEEH MYY STAAAAARS!”

They cried and squirmed. Juniper stood between the two groups and smiled, shrugging.

Juniper: “Why not both?!”

She smiled widely and dropped to the floor, tickling Ashley’s foot with one hand and Lena’s with the other.

Lena: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHA!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

She laughed loudly.

Ashley: “HEHEHEHE EHE HA HA HA AHA HA EHEHEHEHHaheheheheh AHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEEHEEEEEEEEEEE!”

They squealed.

Juniper: “Don’t think you’re missing out, too!”

She teased and taunted Madelyn and Nari, tickling their feet, too.

Nari: “HA AHAHAHA DON’T YOU DAAAAAAARE!”

She rasped and shot her a glare.

Madelyn: “HAHAHAHAHAHAEHEEHE HEE HE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEHEHEHEHE!”

Yoshi beamed, recording the entire scene on his camera as his jeans grew tight. At first, Blair looked on in disgust, dismissing the whole thing as just another “fetish piece of crap,” but the moment his gaze landed on Ashley getting tickled, his own jeans tightened with an erection. Fabien let out a snort. Desperate for a cover-up, Blair noticed a nearby flower pot with a vivid yellow chrysanthemum. He grabbed it and tipped it upside down.

The dark, damp soil spilled across the wooden porch boards, scattering dry dirt and pebbles in all directions. The chrysanthemum tumbled out from the inverted pot, bouncing twice before coming to a rest against the base of the railing, its delicate petals dusted with fresh soil. Blair placed the inverted pot over his erection.

Fabien: “Why did you do that, Blair?”

Blair: “BECAUSE! I am cold!”

Mortified, he snapped, taking a clumsy step backward and tumbling right into a cluster of wind chimes.

Blair: “WHOOOOA!!!”

The heavy chime pipes tore free from the overhang and crashed onto the wooden patio floor with a deafening metallic clatter that echoed across the lawn.

Hearing the racket outside, the girls inside turned toward the window and saw the three men standing frozen, like deer in headlights.

Fabien: “Oh, shit…”

He muttered. Ashley’s face shifted from stunned to fury when they saw Blair.

Ashley: “B-Blair?! GO AWAY!”

They furrowed their eyebrows. Madelyn shot up and sneered at Blair.

Madelyn: “HEY YOU! GET OUTTA HERE!”

She grabbed a broomstick and waved it toward Blair out the window.

Blair: “NO, ASHLEY! I am here because I love you!”

He cried.

Ashley: “NO! I DON’T LOVE YOU! GO AWAY!”

They cried.

Blair: “Jordi never loved you, but I always did!”

He whined and stomped his feet, keeping the pot to his groin. Fabien laughed at him. Lena blushed when she saw Fabien, and she cupped her cheeks. Was he… watching me?! She wondered.

Madelyn marched out onto the patio with the broomstick and whacked Blair over the head.

Madelyn: “SHOO! SHOO!”

She snapped at him as Blair wailed aloud. Raising his arms to shield himself from her blows, he accidentally dropped the clay pot, which shattered across the wooden floorboards and exposed his erection. Fabien snorted with laughter. Seeing the visible bulge poking against his jeans only fueled Madelyn’s anger further.

Madelyn: “GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BIG BLUE PERVERT!”

She rasped, whacking his erection with the broomstick. Blair howled loudly, running down the steps. Fabien laughed loudly, slapping his knees.

A flurry of iridescent wings burst from the garden as the fairies descended upon Blair like a tiny, glowing swarm of angry hornets. Buzzing with high-pitched indignation, they zipped around his head, their sparkling trails leaving streaks of shimmering light in the night air. With furious precision, they rained down, whacking him with their wands.

Another fairy zipped right past his ear, unleashing a shower of golden sparks that made Blair dance in place.

Blair: “FABIEN!!! HELP ME!!!”

He sobbed and stumbled backward, his foot catching on a jagged pebble near the edge of the basin. Panic surged through him as his balance gave out entirely; he flailed his arms wildly in chaotic circles, windmilling his hands in a desperate, futile attempt to grip the night air.

His heels skidded across the slick lawn before he went completely airborne, flipping over the ornate stone rim and plunging violently into the icy water. A massive, dramatic geyser of water erupted from the three-tiered marble fountain, sending a cascading wall of foam and heavy spray soaring into the air before crashing down onto the surrounding grass.

Blair: “JORDI MOVED ON FROM YOU, ASHLEY! HE’S WITH JIRO NOW! BUT ME?! I AM HEEEEEEEERE!”

He threw his head back and wailed loudly.

Ashley: “I DON’T CARE! I DON’T WANT YOU OR HIM! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

They fired back at him and stormed off, deep into the house. Lena knitted her eyebrows when Ashley stormed in.

Sputtering and coughing, Blair dragged himself over the marble rim of the fountain and sloshed onto the wet grass, his clothes clinging tightly to his skin. Water streamed down his face, mixing with heavy tears as he shuddered violently from the cold night air. His green Woodsy Owl shirt was soaked through, and his red sneakers squelched with every miserable step he took across the lawn.

Blair: “I-It’s not fair!”

He wailed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched sob as he wrung out the dripping hem of his nylon jacket.

Blair: “Ashley won’t even look at me! I offered them my racecar bed! I offered them hot cocoa! But no, everyone just treats me like garbage while Jordi gets everything he wants!”

He stamped his soaked foot onto the mud, splashing murky water all over his jeans as he continued to weep loudly into the night.

Fabien: “Yeah, Jordi really stepped up with Jiro. Jiro threw away the cake you girls made for Lena.”

He snorted.

Ashley heard him and shook their head.

Ashley: “I never liked that jerk! I’m sorry he ruined the cake I made for you, Lena!”

They offered.

Lena: “It’s… It’s okay… I was hurt about it, and Fabien comforted me…”

She murmured. Ashley's head spun with confusion. The Fabien standing in their garden right now and the Fabien she spoke of seemed like completely different people.

Lena: “Are you okay, Ashley?”

She asked softly.

Ashley: “Yeah, I’m fine!”

They forced a smile.

Lena: “Are you really? You know you can talk to me.”

She smiled.

Ashley: “I just wish…Blair would leave me alone, and people would stop being mean to me when I did nothing to them… what’s wrong with me?”

They knit their eyebrows.

Lena: “Nothing! I don’t know why Jaxon did that when…”

She paused and bowed her head, not wanting to say anything more. Ashley titled their head.

Ashley: “When what?”

Lena: “I don’t want to upset you more than you are…”

She embraced herself.

Ashley: “What is it?”

They asked.

Lena: “Well, Jordi… told Jaxon he never loved you, and he’s devoted to him, and Jaxon gets angry when you’re brought up.”

She blurted. Ashley paused, taking in what she said.

Ashley: “I know Jordi didn’t love me… he told me.”

They drew a breath and embraced themself.

Ashley: “...I’m still hurt with him, but that doesn’t mean I still love him. I just couldn’t have him in my life anymore because it was dimming my light, and I don’t think it was good for him either.”

They admitted.

Ashley: “I don’t like that mean jerk he’s with, but well, if Jordi is happy with him, I guess… I didn’t like Fabien either, but then he made Celeste happy, so. But I dunno what’s going on there, as me and Celeste haven’t spoken in some time, so I dunno?”

They gave a light shrug. Lena pouted when they mentioned Celeste.

Lena: “Yes, Jordi is happy. He loves his new job and being with Jaxon… and I am here because he’s building a new wing on the house.”

She smiled a bit.

Ashley: “That’s good then!”

They smiled sadly.

Ashley: “Sounds like he’s thriving better now in life!”

Speaking with genuine sincerity, they said they were happy he’d left the old job that was draining his spirit. Although it was hard to fathom how a jerk like Jaxon could bring anyone joy, if he brought happiness to Jordi, that was all that mattered.

Gazing out the window, Lena noticed Fabien laughing at Blair, who stomped about with a bright red face. Juniper followed Lena’s gaze to the scene outside, then turned her attention back to her.

Juniper: “Wow! He must like you a lot to watch you being tickled!”

She said to her. Lena blushed and cupped her cheeks.

Lena: “You really think so?!”

She said breathlessly. Juniper nodded.

Juniper: Yes!”

She smiled.

~

Squelching with every furious step, Blair stomped across the lawn toward his car. Water dripped steadily from his green Woodsy Owl shirt, leaving a trail of soggy footprints. He yanked the driver’s side door open, shivering violently as the cold night air bit through his wet clothes, and collapsed into the bucket seat.

Before Blair could slam the door shut, Fabien casually sauntered over, the heel chains on his cowboy boots clinking against the asphalt. He rested a hand on the Corolla’s roof and looked down at Blair with an amused grin.

Fabien: “Hey, Blair. Mind giving me a lift home?”

Blair glared up at him, wiping a mixture of fountain water and tears from his face, and huffed in frustration.

Blair: “Get in! Just don’t get any water on my seats!”

Yoshi quickly trotted around the front of the Corolla, opened the passenger side door, and slid onto the soft fabric seat with his Panasonic camera clutched safely in his lap.

Fabien opened the back door, slid onto the plush rear seat, and stretched his legs across the floorboards. He pulled the door shut with a heavy click and leaned his head back against the headrest, an easygoing grin on his face.

Blair grumbled under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. The Corolla’s engine turned over with a steady hum. He shifted the automatic transmission into drive, slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and pulled away from the mansion curb into the night.

Yoshi: “That was… AMAZING! Man, I love going to that house! That redheaded hippie chick plays on her bongos, and when her tits are out, it’s like BONGO BOOBIES!”

From the back seat, Fabien let out a loud, sudden snort of laughter, shaking his head as he looked at Yoshi.

Fabien: “Bongo boobies? Mon Dieu, Yoshi, you really are something else.”

Yoshi: “Sometimes that Goth chick tickling some other chick’s pussy in her dungeon. Holy shit, whoever gave that basement a window deserves an award.”

He grinned inanely. Blair gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his face flushed red with irritation. He glared at Yoshi.

Blair: “Will you shut up?! I am trying to focus on driving! You’re disgusting, and if you say one more word about girls or boobies, I’m kicking you out onto the side of the road! I had my heart shattered down to zero percent!”

Fabien chuckled smoothly from the backseat, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned slightly forward.

Fabien: “Relax, Blair. No need to blow a gasket over a little chatter. You came with him.”

Blair: “YEAH, hoping Ashley would stop being a fat lard butt for once, but NOPE!”

He huffed.

The Corolla cruised down the main strip of downtown Pink Top City, the bright neon signs of skyscrapers and late-night storefronts reflecting off the damp windshield. Streetlights flashed rhythmically across the dashboard as Blair adjusted his grip on the wheel, the engine’s hum blending with the quiet pulse of city traffic.

Ahead, the illuminated overhead arches signaling the Little Tokyo district came into view. Blair reached out and clicked the turn signal lever down. The steady, rhythmic click-clack of the indicator filled the quiet cabin, casting a blinking amber glow across his hands as he guided the car smoothly into the turn lane and took the exit ramp off the downtown circuit.

Blair’s car came to a crawl when it reached a weathered two-story building. A banner hung beneath a lit streetlamp, glowing faintly against the evening sky. Across the shop’s rustic wooden facade, bold yellow-and-blue lettering announced THE VIDEO AND CARD SHOP, underscored by crisp Japanese script. Its storefront window was an electric mosaic of pop culture—posters of Akira and Dragon Ball jostled for space with handwritten signs promising Famicom rentals and new VHS arrivals, their vibrant covers stacked high behind the glass. Beside the wood-framed doorway, a solitary payphone clung to the exterior wall.

Above the shop, a warm, butter-yellow light spilled from the upstairs window, casting a cozy square of domestic life into the darkening evening. Perched squarely on the wide sill, a tabby cat sat perfectly still, gazing down at the street.

Blair brought the Toyota Corolla to a smooth stop right in front of the shop’s entrance and shifted into park. Yoshi unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his Panasonic camera, and opened the passenger door.

Yoshi: “Thanks for the ride, Blair! I'll see you tomorrow!”

He hopped out, pulled his key from his pocket, and unlocked the front door of The Video and Card Shop. Stepping inside, he pulled the door shut behind him and headed straight upstairs toward the warm, yellow light of his home.

Once Yoshi was inside, Fabien opened the rear door, climbed out of the backseat, shut it behind him, and slid smoothly into the front passenger seat next to Blair, closing the door with a firm click.

Blair put the Toyota Corolla back in drive and pulled away from the curb of The Video and Card Shop with a sharp jerk. Cold moisture from his soaked clothes seeped into the bucket seat, making him shiver uncontrollably as he gripped the steering wheel. Beside him, Fabien stretched his legs out, resting his elbow on the door armrest with an unbothered, easygoing posture.

Fabien: “So, Blair... taking the scenic route back to Papamos, or are you planning to freeze to death in those wet Woodsy Owl clothes first? Love the message, by the way.”

He snorted. Blair glared at the road ahead, his face flushing crimson under the passing glow of the streetlights.

Blair: “I am NOT freezing! My car is keeping us moving just fine, and I don’t need your commentary! I try not to pollute, but nothing is good enough for that fat bitch!”

Fabien let out a low chuckle, tapping his cowboy boots against the floorboard as the heel chains clinked softly.

The Toyota Corolla glided through the neon-lit heart of downtown Pink Top City. High-rise glass towers towered over the asphalt, casting shimmering reflections of magenta, turquoise, and amber across the blue sedan’s hood. Beside him, Fabien leaned back against the passenger headrest, gazing out at the passing storefronts with an unbothered, easygoing grin, the heel chains on his cowboy boots clinking faintly whenever he shifted his feet.

Steam rose from the sewer grates, catching the colorful glow of buzzing neon bar signs and theater marquees as late-night crowds strolled along the sidewalks. Blair gritted his teeth, shivering slightly in his damp shirt, and adjusted his grip on the wheel.

Fabien thought about his and Yoshi’s hilarious visit to that house, which Yoshi loved calling a “sorority house,” like that stupid sex comedy movie about a sorority slumber party. Fabien vaguely recalled watching it when he was stoned, drunk, or both. Then he thought that Ashley knew he was outside with those two losers. Not once did she come out to ask how Celeste was doing; she just shoved food in her fat fucking head and snapped at Blair because that worked wonders the first few hundred times—what’s another few hundred? He thought bitterly.

Fabien shifted in his leather seat, adjusting his posture as the heel chains of his cowboy boots clinked softly in the quiet car. He locked his sharp, piercing gaze directly on Blair, his eyes narrowing with a cool, calculating amusement.

Fabien: “Blair, she thought you were cheating on her.”

Blair turned to him.

Blair: “Huh?! HOW?! I was disgusted when I saw those other bimbos tickling each other! When that fat retard came out, I didn’t explain I was… horny to Ashley!”

He blurted.

Blair: “And if Ashley was upset, why didn’t they ask me?!”

He snapped.

Fabien: “Because she’s not too smart, Blair. Come on, you knew that!”

He laughed. Blair smiled a bit.

Blair: “Yeah, that’s an understatement!”

Fabien put on a mournful expression, resting his chin on his palm and letting out a heavy, sorrowful sigh as he turned to face Blair.

Fabien: “Ah, Blair... it breaks my heart to see you like this; truly it does.”

He murmured, his voice dripping with theatrical sympathy. He shook his head slowly, casting a pitiful glance at Blair’s damp clothes.

Fabien: “But if I am being completely honest with you, mon ami... the problem isn’t Ashley. The problem is that you’re simply not trying hard enough.”

Blair’s eyes widened in indignation, but Fabien held up a hand and pressed a palm to his heart in feigned anguish.

Fabien: “I say this only out of deep concern for your love life! Hot cocoa and racecar beds? Mon Dieu, Blair, a person of Ashley’s exquisite tastes needs grander gestures! You give up at the first sign of a broomstick from a butter fairy. Love is a battle, Blair, and right now... you are barely putting up a fight.”

Blair: “Well?! What do YOU suggest?!”

Fabien pursed his lips, a slow, cunning grin spreading across his face. He knew all about Blair’s musical side—that he could sing and play the synthesizer.

Fabien: “Mon ami, a simple song will not suffice for a grand gesture like this. You need an entire album: ten tracks, all dedicated to Ashley. You write the synth melodies, pour your heart into the vocals, record it, and release it for everyone to buy. Imagine it: Ashley walks into Cam the Record Man, sees your face on a cassette tape cover, and realizes your devotion is available nationwide.”

Blair blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he processed the idea, his wet hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Blair: “That’s a GREAT idea, Fabien! I will do that!”

He beamed.

Fabien: “You’re welcome, Blair. Always happy to help.”

He grinned.

~

The Toyota Corolla rumbled up the steep incline of Upper Hill Lane, its engine straining slightly before coasting into the long, paved driveway of 1550 Upper Hill Lane. The expansive Spanish-style hacienda sat quiet, its white stucco walls and dark clay roof tiles bathed in a soft, silvery glow.

Blair brought the car to a halt near the garage, shifted into park, and let out a loud, shivering sigh as he cut the engine. Cold water from his soaked Woodsy Owl shirt had thoroughly drenched the seat, and his teeth chattered as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

He turned his head toward the passenger side and looked at Fabien through his damp bangs.

Blair: “All right, Fabien, we’re at my house! You can get out and walk home now. It’s only two blocks down to Juniper Street!”

Fabien glanced out the passenger window at the hacienda, then turned back to Blair with a dry, unbothered smirk, the heel chains on his cowboy boots clinking softly against the floorboard as he unlatched the door.

Fabien: “A simple ‘thanks for the relationship advice’ would have sufficed.”

He said dryly.

Blair: “JUST GO! I am going to freeze to death and start working on my ten-track synthesizer album for Ashley! I would have driven you to your house, but I’m not trying to date you!”

He huffed, crossing his arms tightly over his shivering chest.

Fabien snorted, unlatched the passenger door, and stepped out into the cool night air, pausing to lean back against the open window frame with a faint, mocking smirk. The heel chains on his cowboy boots clinked softly as he shifted his weight.

Fabien: “Two whole blocks, Blair? I only hope my legs don’t give out before I reach my driveway.”

He chuckled under his breath, casually pushing off from the Corolla’s door and tapping his knuckles against the roof.

Blair: “Yeah, well, you don’t have a broken heart to mend or have it as bad as me! I have to deal with this and Grandpa’s errand boys reminding me to take my constipation medicine! Have a heart, would ya?!”

He huffed. Fabien snorted.

Fabien: “...Touché.”

He said wryly.

The heel chains on his snip-toe cowboy boots clinked softly against the dark asphalt as he adjusted his leather jacket over his tank top.

Fabien: “You got this, buddy. If anyone can romance Big Butt Betty, it’s you.”

He offered dryly, tapping the Corolla’s roof twice. Without waiting for Blair’s inane retort, Fabien turned and strolled down the sloping driveway, his hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets.

Leaving the hacienda behind, he turned onto the peaceful pavement toward Juniper Street. The twin moons shone overhead, casting long, silvery shadows across the empty suburban street.

Continuing along the quiet pavement, Fabien reached the corner and turned onto Juniper Street. The neighborhood was still, the trees’ shadows stretching long across the lawns under the twin moons’ glow.

He sauntered up the front path of his house past his Shelby, the heel chains on his cowboy boots clinking rhythmically against the concrete. Reaching the porch, Fabien retrieved his key, unlocked the front door, and slipped inside, letting the heavy door click shut behind him.

He tossed his jacket over a chair, kicked off his boots near the door, slid off his clean black socks, and threw them into the hamper.

Entering the quiet living room, Fabien raised his arms high and let out a long, weary sigh as he stretched his back and shoulders after the long night. The dark fabric of his tank top pulled tight across his chest, exposing his vulnerable underarms.

Before he could finish his stretch, Celeste burst from behind the armchair with a mischievous grin. With lightning-fast speed, she lunged forward and dug her nails right into his exposed armpits, wiggling them relentlessly.

Fabien gasped, his eyes widening as a loud, uncontrollable burst of laughter erupted from his chest, making him curl inward to protect his ticklish spots.

Fabien: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!”

Before he could twist away, Celeste dropped to the floor and targeted his bare feet, digging her nails into his soles—his ultimate weak spot. Fabien collapsed onto the sofa, squirming uncontrollably as his laughter escalated into a completely helpless, breathless fit.

Fabien: “OH GOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOD! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Her fingernails fluttered lightly and playfully over his toes, sending a sharp, agonizing wave of tickles right up his spine.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!! CELESTE! NOHOHOHON!!”

Fabien screamed with helpless laughter, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as Celeste relentlessly tickled his sensitive toes. He thrashed helplessly on the cushions, completely overwhelmed by the agonizing sensation, his breathless gasps mixing with high-pitched giggles that echoed through the house.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOHOHON!!”

Celeste finally stopped and stepped back, letting her hands drop to her sides. Fabien collapsed against the sofa cushions, gasping heavily for air as his chest heaved and his laughter subsided into quiet, breathless giggles.

Celeste settled onto the sofa beside him, leaning in close and wrapping her arms snugly around Fabien's waist. Fabien smiled warmly, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face before pulling her closer and pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. He ran his hand over his white hair.

Fabien: “I went to that old Koks manor on Orchard Street—the street where Jordi’s old house was and the decrepit house where Fatley and her friends are staying.”

Celeste paused, and her eyelashes dipped.

Celeste: “Why did you go there, Fab?”

Fabien gently rubbed Celeste's arm, his fingers tracing soft, reassuring lines against her skin. Slowly, his hand slid down to her hip, his thumb and palm massaging the muscle in a tender, soothing circle to ease her tension.

Fabien: “I was picking up some weed from a contact over that way.”

He admitted, a slight, guilty smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned closer.

Fabien: “And while I was over there, I spotted Blair’s piece of shit car parked right out in front of the house. I couldn’t resist sticking around to see what kind of mess he was making.”

Celeste: “What was he doing?”

Fabien pursed his lips.

Fabien: “He and Yoshi were spying on the girls, emulating that shitty ‘Slumber Party’ sex comedy movie that’s on that ‘USA Up All Night’ channel. It has movies that are not… quite pornography but too raunchy for daytime TV. That bullshit.”

He explained.

He stretched his legs out, rested his bare feet on the coffee table, and crossed his ankles.

Fabien: “Anyway, Yoshi goes there a lot and dubbed it a ‘sorority house’. Blair was there to spy on his tubby love interest. She snaps at him and tells him off. Blair tells her Jordi moved on with Jiro, and there was a big ol’ tickle fight in the room with all the girls.”

He twisted his mouth.

Fabien: “That fat pig saw me. Not once did she come out and ask me how you were doing, so I told Blair if he wants to win her heart, he should dedicate an entire album to her.”

He admitted as his expression darkened. Celeste listened to his heartbeat as she relayed the events to her.

Celeste: “Ashley jumps from person to person for romance and friends. If you wanna do this because it makes you laugh, fine, but you don’t need to for my honor, Fab. I don’t care. I accepted it and moved on.”

She drawled. Fabien gazed down at her.

Fabien: “He was spying on Ashley and her friends through the living room window, trying to act like a romantic hero while making an ass of himself.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the couch cushions as he looked down at Celeste.

Fabien: “He even ended up using a flower pot to cover up his erection, got chased into the fountain by a swarm of fairies, and stood there soaking wet, shouting at Ashley that he offered her a racecar bed and hot cocoa. Absolute comedy.”

Celeste: “You’re doing it again.”

Fabien gaped at her.

Fabien: “What?”

Celeste: “Dodging my question… You’re doing this because you want to get back at Ashley for hurting me.”

She looked up at him with her big violet eyes. Fabien gazed back at her and ran his hand over her soft hair.

Fabien: “...Do you remember Finley Lloyd?”

Celeste froze and snuggled him.

Celeste: “Yeah, I do. I stuffed his body in a Barry Bear fursuit I found in the back of a Barry Bear’s Bazaar restaurant, and then I dumped it in the ocean.”

Fabien nodded, gently petting Celeste's head and running his hand soothingly down her back as he continued.

Fabien: “It’s interesting how that happened after that… night.”

He said slowly.

Celeste: “Yeah, what a coincidence.”

She said flatly.

Fabien: “Was it?”

He asked, gazing down at her. Celeste paused and nodded.

Fabien crossed one leg over the other.

Fabien: “When someone you love is hurting, you want to… get back at the person who hurt them.”

He stated.

Celeste: “I don’t think Ashley ghosting me is akin to what that fat fuck did.”

Fabien nodded.

Fabien: “Right, and I am not shoving them in fursuits to dump into the ocean. I am planting a seed in another loser’s head so that I can laugh.”

He replied, holding her closer.

Celeste: “Fab? This is something they do. They find that new shiny thing and chase it, leaving everyone else in the dust. I mean, I hate the guy, but Blair’s whiny journal said they do this, and it was true. They’re gonna do that to that weird fat chick. The thing is? I ain’t gonna be there. I made peace with that.”

She explained.

Fabien: “But you’re dodging MY statement.”

He teased.

Celeste: “What one?”

Fabien: “Finley was not a hit job. You did it because of what he tried to do to me.”

He confessed.

A heavy silence fell over the living room, deep and unyielding. The gentle murmur of the evening air faded outside as a profound stillness settled between them, hanging in the space after his words.

Celeste’s eyes flickered, the faint trace of a dangerous smile touching the corner of her lips before she lowered her gaze back to his chest.

Celeste: “So what if I did?”

She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a chill that cut through the room’s warmth.

Celeste: “He put his hands on you, Fab. Nobody touches what’s mine and gets to keep breathing.”

Fabien stared down at her, the playful smirk completely vanishing from his face. For a long, quiet second, his green eyes held hers, registering the icy intensity in her voice and the unwavering devotion behind it.

A slow, genuine smile spread across his lips, softening his sharp features. He let out a low breath, cupping her cheek and lightly running his thumb over her cheekbone.

Fabien: “Mon ange...”

He said softly. He pulled her up against his chest, wrapping his arm securely around her waist.

Fabien: “I suppose he got exactly what was coming to him then, didn’t he? There’s no dignity in a corpse being shoved into that monstrosity of a fursuit and dumped in the Astronavis Ocean, left to the fishes to feed on. No dignity in that death… I couldn’t have picked a better way for that piece of shit to go.”

He rested his chin lightly on top of her head, feeling the warmth of her presence against him as the tension in the room melted away.

Celeste: “How long did you know?”

Fabien paused and closed his eyes as he drew a breath.

Fabien: “...I always knew.”

He replied.

Fabien: “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, ma chérie… I’m not a fucking idiot like Jiro.”

He said tenderly.

Celeste looked up at Fabien, her violet eyes searching his face.

Celeste: “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

Fabien: “Because I was waiting for you to ask me and confirm it.”

He reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek with immense tenderness as his thumb traced her skin. He leaned in slowly, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, lingering kiss.

Fabien: “And this is what made me fall in love with you.”