Chapter Text
Tomorrow. They were leaving tomorrow. Caldwell blamed the linear nature of time. And the infallible determination Ophelia showed whenever she set her mind to something.
“I told my mother we would reach Maude no later than three o’clock,” she told them as they floated about the pool. “That means she’ll have cancelled her afternoon appointments, donned her pearls that Dad got her from the Indian ocean while at the Seychelles, and will be standing outside the front door at two-fifty-nine. You will not make me a minute late. She hasn’t been this attentive since my Nativity play in the third grade.”
“I don’t know whether to be happy or sad for you,” said Milo, who’d found a blow-up tube and was presiding over the water like the British Navy.
Ophelia grinned wryly at him. “I’ve learnt to accept any attention she gives me. It’s rare, and it’s fluctuating.”
“Caldwell’s love life,” Leilani whispered to Alby and Fergus.
Fergus splashed at her because Caldwell was too busy pretending not to be hurt.
“Well, I, for one, won’t be receiving a fanfare on returning home,” Milo commented. “My sisters were only too happy to be getting rid of me.”
Caldwell thought gloomily of his parents’ reactions when he told them about the shattered window he’d caused with his bombs. This was kind of like that, only with less windows and more bruising. The outcome was the same: danger, blah blah, injury, etc. Derny was nice this time of year, he decided. Pleasant weather, freedom, no grounding. He was so getting grounded.
“You have sisters?” Leilani glanced over at Milo. “Were they the ones to get the good looks, humour, talent, strength—”
“No need to carry on, we got the gist, thank you.” He spun around in his tube, unleashing a wave of water at her. “We’re triplets.” At the expectant pause, he sighed and said, “I’m the youngest.”
Which made a world of sense regarding the self-confidence issue. Definitely OD’d on parental attention. At least, that was Caldwell’s—admittedly, rather amateur—diagnosis.
“Imagine having that many siblings.” Leilani shuddered.
Alby shrugged and then ducked under the surface. “It’s not that bad,” he said, when he’d come back up. “Lily and Rosie get on. And Rosie and Holly get on. Lily and Holly never get on. Unless they’re bribed to play together. Then they get on, but it has to be when Rosie’s not around.” At Leilani’s raised brow, he shrugged again. “It’s a whole system.”
“Jason and I got on,” Ophelia commented, swirling a hand through the water. Her swimsuit was white with vertical blue stripes, and it contrasted with her eyes. “Especially when he let me have a go on the ziplines we built around the house. Our babysitters never lasted long.”
Leilani snorted. “You got babysitters? My mom would leave me with instructions to make a sandwich for dinner and to not touch the stove.”
Caldwell stared despondently across the pool, into the horizon. “I still get babysat.”
Rather than sympathising with him as Caldwell had wished, Ophelia snorted. “That’s because no one is stupid enough to leave you alone with your chemical kit. Which, I’m certain, has more than a few illegal substances.”
“They’re not illegal,” he replied, nettled. “Just hard to get.”
“Literally, I’m sure,” Ophelia said, with good humour, “because the majority of them are locked up in a nuclear base in North Korea.”
He decided to go for a little swim.
And possibly drown, which would be infinitesimally favourable than trying to face Milo at some point.
Which is why he stayed in the pool hours after everyone else had gotten out.
Can’t talk to anyone when you’re under the water, he thought, and mentally congratulated himself. Stopped just short of giving himself a pat on the back. Overkill. But not unwarranted.
He got out to eat because he wasn’t a savage, then dived back in with all the grace of a new-born lamb. Water went soaring. Alby’s burrito splashed. Shouting. Threatening. Laughing (Leilani and Milo). Apologising (Fergus, because Caldwell refused).
Eventually, everyone headed indoors—Fergus with a meaningful look over his shoulder. Ophelia did pause to consider him strangely, then shrugged and raced Leilani to their room.
The evening was as mellow and warm as all its predecessors: golden in some places, shadowy in others. The problem, he decided, with being alone was that you were never truly alone, and rather less distracted by vibration and noise and movement. The human brain is a busy, whirring thing, and that meant it latched onto any internal thought or feeling without mercy, and was reluctant to let go. The dwindling sunlight created a haven for contemplation.
Which is why he was seriously considering swift and painless death by the time Leilani joined him outside for a cigarette.
“Is the water warm and cowardly in there?” she asked around a puff of smoke, pointedly looking at the deep end.
“It is, as Goldilocks would’ve stated, ‘just right’,” Caldwell retorted, and refused to sink beneath the surface.
Leilani paused with the cigarette inches from her mouth, staring up into the sky and its clouds.
“We got carried away with the adrenaline of it all,” she said finally. Her lip gloss sparkled with each word. “And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For getting caught up in it. When you went missing, I was so scared, Cal. I was—terrified.” Her voice broke. “I never want to be that scared again. There was all this darkness and bodies and none of them yours—So if that means never investigating again, then I’m fine with that. I won’t research another news report or urban myth if I get to know we’re all okay and—”
He’d been inching closer to the steps, and she launched herself at him, cigarette drifting to a sodden, smoking end under the water’s surface.
“I’m okay,” he whispered into her hair. She choked on a laugh, clinging to him.
“If you tell anybody about this, I’ll end you.”
Caldwell smiled and moved them further up the pool steps, arms tightening around her. She was still damp under the t-shirt she’d thrown on over her swimsuit. “You do a good enough job of pretending to not care that no one would ever suspect anything.”
Leilani released her grip on him, put some space between them. “I sometimes wonder if perfecting that the first time was a mistake. Burying feelings deep down makes you do stuff like this.” Her nose wrinkled.
“Hugging me is a heaven-sent gift from The Creator, himself,” Caldwell claimed, and wrapped his arms around his torso. “See?”
Flashing him a cheeky grin, she pretended to re-consider. “Yes, of course. I can hear the celestial choir now.”
“That’s the aftereffects. They’re very potent.”
A beat passed, and then:
“Cal…”
“What?”
“You guys would be so cute together.”
“Nuhuh, no. This talk has not given you licence to dig into my business.”
“Don’t be stubborn and miss this opportunity. He’s hot, you’re…okay. He’s nice, you’re…okay. It’s perfectly balanced! As all things should be.”
Caldwell groaned. “Don’t quote Marvel at me, Leilani. That’s fighting dirty.”
“There isn’t any other way to fight.”
Perhaps she was right.
~
Fergus sat on his mattress and looked down at Caldwell. Not physically, as the mattress was on the ground, but Caldwell felt quelled all the same in the face of such austerity. It was the raised brows.
“Enjoy your swim,” Fergus passive-aggressively unlocked his phone without checking the time, “at nine p.m.?”
Caldwell swanned into the room, replying as breezily as one could through chattering teeth, “You could’ve auditioned for the role of the guy from Split. You know, the one with the multiple personalities.”
“Caldwell,” Fergus hissed. “You have to talk to him.”
Wrong. Caldwell didn’t have to do anything except pay taxes and die.
“I was simply enjoying the water on a warm evening, Fergus.” He moved further into the room, reached for his bag to dig out dry clothing. “Not everything has to be about Milo.” And damnit, now he was thinking about him again.
Fergus pursed his lips, sat in the middle of his mattress with his arms folded like a petulant child.
“You’re a petulant child,” Caldwell told him. “Wait! No, I didn’t mean that, sorry. I’m just, I—”
“It’s okay,” said Fergus. “You’re emotional at the moment.”
Caldwell nodded along, then froze and glared at him. “No!”
“We’re meeting in the girls’ room. Do you want me to wait?”
Halfway through putting on his Marvel hoodie, Caldwell gestured at him to carry on, face obscured by material.
After he’d finished dressing, he stashed his bag back under the bed. It was unsettlingly empty under there—compared to his bed at home. That had anything and everything: relics and homework and shoes. Checking that he’d switched off the light, he left the room.
It was only a few steps between the two rooms, and Caldwell could hear Leilani’s cackle vibrating through the wall and leaking out into the corridor. It seeped under the door like water in a sinking boat, bathing everything with bright noise and light.
“Up for a game of UNO, Cal?” Ophelia asked, settled against the side of her bed.
Leilani didn’t bother for his response, creating a new pile of cards as she dealt, face morphed into a caricature of seriousness. Her mouth twisted up slightly at one corner, eyes tracking between each card that left her hands.
“Are we playing the One rule?” Caldwell voiced into the room, plopping down in the circle next to Alby. “I think we should play the One rule. It adds extra spice.”
“Basically, whenever someone lays down a one, the direction changes,” Ophelia explained, at Milo’s questioning look. “And then if the next card is blue, someone’s nominated to show all their cards. Spoiler alert: Fergus is ruthless at this game when given the means.”
Fergus smiled unashamedly, gathering up his pile of cards the way one would a baby. “If we decide to be spicy, then I’m going to be spicy.”
A few goes around the circle, and Alby let out an exasperated huff of breath. “Seeing as the person to my right is determined to be a little cheat, can I switch places with someone?”
Caldwell scoffed. “Sharing is caring, Alby.” He slammed a red seven onto the middle pile, unleashing an unearthly shriek of, “UNO! Ha! Suck on that, losers.”
“You haven’t won yet,” said Leilani, a frown forming on her face.
“I vote Caldwell gets eliminated for poor showmanship,” said Alby, who was, at the end of the day, just plain bitter and mean-spirited.
Caldwell glared at him. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Still haven’t won,” Leilani muttered.
Fergus reached across the circle to paw at the red seven. “I agree. Boot him and his red seven.”
Caldwell shrieked and slapped at Fergus’s hands. Sitting between Leilani and Ophelia, Milo observed with an expression rapidly morphing from bewilderment to amusement.
When Fergus made no move to retract his jealous, conniving hands, Caldwell slammed his body onto the pile of cards and curled over it, protectively.
“I’m not getting up until everyone proclaims me the winner,” he stated boldly, mistaking Milo’s knee for Fergus and kicking out reflexively.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, sitting up immediately.
Leilani cackled, taking the opportunity to snatch the cards and fling them into the air.
“Leilani,” said Ophelia, exasperatedly.
“Caldwell,” said Milo, “it’s fine. But you should know all of that was for nought, because there is no way you’re winning.” He stared pointedly around the room.
Alby was cowering away from Fergus and Leilani, who each had a handful of cards and were smacking each other silly. Ophelia was watching them calmly, having moved to her bed, out of reach.
“Let’s go,” said Milo, and Caldwell was too blindsided by the fact that he’d extended an arm to help him up, to respond other than letting Milo haul him out of the room.
When they were in the corridor, Milo stopped. Put a couple of feet of space between them. “I know you said to leave you alone, and if you really want to go back you can, but you seem to have forgotten you’re still injured, and I was scared you were going to get more hurt—”
Caldwell swallowed. Now or never, right?
“It’s fine,” he said, looked everywhere but the anxious brown eyes that were trained on him. “We could sit by the pool?”
Milo seemed surprized—it was in the tilt of his head, like a puppy, and the slow smile that stole across his face. “Yeah, we can do that. I’m not jumping in to save you, though.”
“Why would I fall in?” Caldwell turned to head for the stairs. “Wait, no, don’t answer that.”
Milo answered, anyway. “You have this talent of antagonising people until they have no choice but to resort to drastic measures.” He clicked his tongue. “I didn’t mean that to be—It was just a joke!” He turned wide eyes to Caldwell, who wanted to laugh at the resemblance to a startled Bambi.
“Are you saying I antagonise you?” Caldwell teased, taking the last few steps with a bounce. “Because, I gotta say, it seems to be you winding me up most of the time.”
Milo winced, the tell-tale sign in the tightening of the shoulders. “I did warn you.”
They reached the poolside, sat down to dip their feet in the water.
“I know,” said Caldwell. “It’s fine, though. Now I know why.”
If it was even possible, Milo’s shoulders tightened more. He looked at once wary and hopeful. “Why?”
Caldwell grinned cheekily. “Because you’re compensating for something. It’s obvious.” Oh fuck, what was he doing, “People with a lot going on downstairs don’t feel the need to wind other people up.”
“Oh,” said Milo, and huffed out a startled laugh. “Oh, you’re so wrong, but you get points for surprizing me.”
He swirled his left foot in an arc, creating a tiny wave, listening to that laugh and pretending it didn’t do something funny to his stomach.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said in a rush, all at once eager to get it out, to light the paraffin and watch everything he said in the diner burn in a gleeful rush of chemical and smoke.
Milo studied the surface of the water, then tilted his head to look at Caldwell.
“I was irritated and tired and confused—you were something for me to take out my feelings on. I didn’t truly mean it then, and I certainly don’t think it now.”
Milo smiled, then. “It’s okay. But know that I’ll never be someone’s catharsis. Get annoyed at me, pout at me, whatever. I don’t mind. But don’t ever discard me like I’m not worth your real thoughts or feelings. Like a cheap, temporary antidote.”
Caldwell was going to do something completely reckless in the next ten seconds if—
“You kinda reminded me of Anger from Inside Out in that moment at the diner,” Milo commented, as if their previous conversation hadn’t occurred. “All fuming and bright red, looking up at me with actual fire behind each word.” He smirked. “Perhaps that can be your superpower.”
“Right,” said Caldwell. “As if you aren’t as completely obnoxious as Joy. No, don’t try to defend yourself: you bulldoze over everything with your constant ‘People live to amuse me’ attitude.”
“Not people, you.” Milo raked a hand through his curls. “No, no need to splutter; it’s true. Unless it’s not, and you’re willing to prove it to me, somehow? But be warned, I find you very amusing.”
Now was not the time to get shy and self-conscious.
“I suppose I am quite funny,” Caldwell allowed, willing the back of his neck to return to its normal colour. He shifted his hoodie to be safe.
A smile was directed his way, and gosh he was pathetic if it felt like a prize of some sort. Bronze, Silver, Milo’s smile.
~
“Bye Mrs Diamandis! Thanks for having us. Your lodge was lovely to stay in.”
Mrs Diamandis wrapped Ophelia into a bone-crushing hug. Leilani sniggered, then was next to receive similar treatment.
“It was my pleasure, dearie. You were joys to have around. You too, Milo.” She scooped up a surprized Milo and proceeded to squeeze the wind out of him. “If you’re ever in the area again, make sure to pop in. It’s a shame you’re all leaving earlier than expected.”
“Yeah,” said Ophelia sheepishly.
Alby strode through the courtyard to deposit his and Fergus’s bags into Misty’s boot. His yellow shirt clashed terribly with the car’s paintwork—a peculiar development seeing as they were the only two objects within a five-mile radius remotely the same colour.
“Who’s picking you up?” Ophelia wiped her glasses on her shirt and glanced at Milo.
He was standing by the doorway of the lodge, but moved nearer to Caldwell. “My sister. She said her prices are the same as an uber, though. I’m considering hitchhiking.”
“No one in their right mind would pick you up,” said Caldwell, without thinking.
Milo ignored him in favour of brushing their shoulders together.
“We can wait until she gets here,” Leilani told Milo, walking towards where Alby was standing guard over the bags. “Need any help, Alby?”
He levelled her with a fierce glare that was only somewhat dampened by his attire.
Misty was the only car in the parking lot, and it was just as well: she took up two parking spaces and was very ugly. The last point wasn’t really crucial to her being the only car—Caldwell was just very opinionated.
As the sun rose in the sky, casting rays of light over her bonnet, bits of grit and mineral in the ground began glinting. The effect was dazzling: a kaleidoscope of natural lighting, both saturated and de-saturated simultaneously.
“We should do a last check of the rooms,” Alby commented, for the third time that hour. Caldwell wanted to smack him for the second time that hour.
Leilani looked up from where she was lounged against a pillar in the courtyard. “Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“Feel like inciting violence?”
“Only all the time, yes.”
“No,” said Milo. “It’s too early. At least wait ‘til noon.”
Alby nodded gratefully at him.
Leilani scowled.
A screeching noise sounded, like tyres on tarmac, and Milo sighed. “That’s my sister.”
Sure enough, a few seconds later a car hurtled into the parking lot, a horrendous smoking coming from the tyres.
“Are you sure you’ll make it home in that?” Alby asked Milo, eyes wide.
Shrugging up a shoulder, Milo sighed long-sufferingly. “Nothing in life is certain, Alby, old chap.”
The door to the smoking Subaru Impreza swung open, a tall girl stepping out. Her eyes focused on Milo immediately and she shook a manicured finger at him.
“Milo! You better be ready to cough up muchos in compensation for this ride. I had to get up at half seven. Half seven.”
“Hey!” Caldwell said, excitedly, “I use that word too: muchos.”
The girl walked across the carpark and stopped in front of them. She peered at Caldwell appraisingly. “Laura,” she said, sticking out a hand forcefully. Caldwell wasn’t sure whether she expected him to shake or kiss it. “I’m Milo’s sister. Better in every way.”
“Caldwell,” he replied, deciding on shaking. A few seconds later, he was regretting his decision: her grip was a vice, but stronger. “And I very much doubt that. He makes candyfloss.”
“Made candyfloss,” Milo muttered, sadly.
Laura’s eyes gleamed. “So, you’re Caldwell. Damn, you are cute.”
“Laura,” Milo said, sounding strangled.
She glanced at him, unrepentant. Pulled him into a hug.
“You got your stuff? Traffic’s a nightmare.”
He snorted and reached for his bag. “What would you know? You drive ten miles over the speed limit everywhere.”
“I don’t,” Laura assured Caldwell.
She was pretty, in a sharp way. Sleek brown hair where Milo’s was curly, smaller eyes, more severe cheekbones.
“See you, Milo,” said Ophelia, throwing an arm around his side. “Thanks for all the help. We’ll definitely stay in touch.”
“Don’t get into any trouble without us,” Leilani clamoured, tripping over Milo’s bag and scuffing it.
He laughed and shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same without Cece’s constant whining.”
Caldwell flushed, stomach dropping unpleasantly. Fergus nudged against him, but remained silent.
“Right, well, I had a lot of fun hanging with you guys.” Milo stretched a hand behind his head, ran it through his hair. “Fergus, keep playing your piano—” Fergus grinned— “Alby, keep your sisters in check—” Alby nodded, solemnly— “and Caldwell, uh—”
“I forgot something,” Caldwell blurted, surging forward and grabbing his wrist. He dragged Milo through the courtyard and behind a stone wall, Milo dropping his bag in the process.
“Caldwell,” he began, and was knocked into the wall from the force of Caldwell’s kiss.
It was a split-second decision, a moment in time that spanned between extremities, catalysed by desperation and fear of missing this, a moment caught and preserved in amber, where they took hold of the opportunity presented to them and pulled.
“I’m sorry,” Caldwell said into the kiss, pressing closer and closer. “I’m sorry I was so stubborn.”
“You were perfect,” Milo whispered, dragging him in. “Cece, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you flushed to the roots of your hair, the first time I teased you. And I wanted to do this—” he kissed the moles by Caldwell’s mouth, by his top lip, a kiss for each mole.
At last they paused, Milo’s back against the wall, hands cupping Caldwell’s face and keeping him close.
“You have to text me,” he said.
“I planned on it,” Caldwell said, leaning in to brush their lips together, “in between getting up the nerve to do this, and wallowing in self-imposed misery.”
Milo chuckled breathlessly; eyes blown wide. Caldwell supposed he wasn’t much better.
A catcall sounded from the parking lot.
“We have to get going. But I’m not letting you go until you promise me we can keep doing this.”
Taking a minute step back, Caldwell whispered, “I promise,” and flushed to the roots of his hair.
“Oh, no,” Milo laughed, retrieving his bag and swooping in for a last kiss, “you can’t get embarrassed now. Save it for when we step out into the parking lot.”
“Fuck,” Caldwell gulped, feeling faint. “What have I just done?!”
Condemned himself to a lifetime of ridicule.
They rounded the pillar and walked across the carpark.
Laura took one look at them and burst into laughter. “I’ll see you at family dinner, Caldwell. Milo, get your butt in the car. I have a date with my bed to get to.”
Leilani was surprisingly calm; until Caldwell realised she had her phone out and was recording everything, like paparazzi with A-list celebrities.
The group of friends watched the Subaru hightail it out of the carpark, Milo leaning out of the passenger window to wave at them. Then Ophelia turned to him and smirked. “You solved that on your own, did you?”
“No,” Caldwell replied, resisting the urge to grin like a maniac. “I had a lot of help.”
He squeezed Fergus’s arm.
They piled into Misty one-by-one, Alby snagging the front passenger seat.
“In the grand scheme of things,” Caldwell began, sandwiched between Leilani and Fergus, “it wasn’t really a mystery, more like a—”
“Cal?” Ophelia peered at him in the rear-view mirror. “Shut up.”