Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you want me here?” Jimmy asked, jogging to match pace with his sister as they made their way to the bridal shop. 

“Yes,” Lizzie answered. She looked up at him with confusion, loose strands of her pink hair blew in the gentle breeze. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because this is your thing,” Jimmy said. “I don’t know very many people who’d go try on wedding dresses and bring their little brother along. Are you sure you’re not just doing this out of pity?” 

“Jimmy,” Lizzie said breathlessly. He couldn’t decipher the tone of her voice. “I wouldn’t’ve invited you if I didn’t want you here.” 

Jimmy still wasn’t convinced. He could see the bridal shop up ahead. 

“I promise,” Lizzie added. 

Jimmy still looked uncertain but he didn’t say anything else. He propped open the door to the shop with his foot and let his sister slip inside before him. He ignored how last minute his invitation was as the door slammed shut behind him. 

The inside of the boutique was very bright. It was so bright that it made Jimmy want to close his eyes and never open them again. A plethora of grandeur white gowns were on display; some were hung in impressive rows on clothing hangers and others were worn by faceless mannequins with excessive amounts of jewelry. 

Jimmy blinked. Lizzie was talking to Katherine, the owner of the bridal shop, about the sorts of dresses she had in mind. Jimmy blinked again. The members of Lizzie’s bridal party were sitting on a series of sofas near the fitting room. He easily recognized Pearl, Cleo and Gem and made his way towards them. 

He plopped down on the sofa beside his oldest sister. 

“You’re late,” Pearl chastised gently and teasingly as she ruffled his hair. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy mumbled. 

The conversation fizzled out after that. Jimmy vaguely tuned into whatever Lizzie and Katherine were talking about; wedding dress budgets. So, nothing exciting. 

“You graduated recently,” Cleo said idly, picking at their nails.

Jimmy looked over at them. Cleo didn’t add anything else to their statement. Jimmy tugged at the strings of his sweatshirt, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say in response to that. 

“Yeah,” Gem chimed in. “How was graduation?” 

Jimmy didn’t really want to talk about graduation. It wasn’t great. “It was great,” he told them. 

Gem smiled. “That’s good. Have you started looking for work yet?”

Jimmy hated this conversation. His sister nudged him less than gently with her elbow. “I’m staying at the greenhouse actually,” Jimmy answered. “I really like it there.” 

“What do you think of this dress?” Lizzie asked suddenly. 

Everyone turned to look at her. Jimmy turned to look at everyone’s reactions. 

“I think it’s a little simple,” Cleo said

“I think the simplicity is nice,” Gem said. 

“I think you should try it on,” Pearl said. 

Jimmy said nothing. 

Lizzie blinked at them. “Noted,” she hummed as she handed the dress to Katherine and continued looking through the dress displays. 

Jimmy leaned back in his seat and rested his head on the top of the sofa cushion and looked up at the ceiling. There was a crystal chandelier with a couple cobwebs forming. It hung from dainty silver chains on a coffered ceiling. It took a long time for him to lose interest in the chandelier. 

When Jimmy finally looked back down his sister stood in front of him in a white gown different from the one she had shown before. He sat a little more upright in his seat and began to hear sounds again; the low hum of the air conditioner, the tapping of his shoe against the hardwood floor and the dull chatter of the bridal party that was steadily becoming louder and louder the more aware of himself Jimmy became. 

Katherine adjusted the train of Lizzie’s dress. 

“Do a twirl,” Pearl said. 

Jimmy looked Lizzie up and down. He was pretty sure this was the first dress she’d tried on. He thought she looked beautiful. He thought she’d look beautiful in just about any dress in the boutique. Jimmy had no idea how Lizzie was ever going to decide which dress was the one. 

“So, what do you think?” Katherine asked. 

Lizzie looked at herself in one of the mirrors offset to the sofas. She was quiet for a moment as she adjusted the corset of the dress. “I kind of hate it.” 

Katherine didn’t seem to take any offence. “What do you hate about it?” she asked. 

“I don’t like the frilly sleeves, they’re kind of itchy,” Lizzie said. “I also think the neckline is too deep. I don’t even really like this kind of neckline in general.” 

Katherine nodded. “Very helpful,” she smiled. “I’ll get you some other dresses if one of your . . . bridesmaids doesn’t mind unbuttoning your gown.” 

Jimmy sighed. He knew him being here was weird. 

Cleo offered to unbutton Lizzie’s dress so the two of them disappeared behind the dressing room curtain. 

After a few minutes, Katherine returned with a couple of new gowns in hand. “How do you feel about non-traditional dresses?” 

“How non-traditional is non-traditional?” Lizzie asked from behind the curtain. 

“Colours,” Katherine replied. 

Jimmy, and the rest of the bridal party, watched Lizzie try on maybe eight other dresses. He thought his sister looked equally beautiful in each dress. Jimmy had genuinely no idea how Lizzie was going to make her decision. 

“Oh, I really like this one,” Lizzie said from behind the curtain. “I really like this one.” 

“Yeah?” Cleo asked. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie replied. Then, she dramatically tugged the curtain aside to reveal the ninth gown. 

She looked effortlessly gorgeous. The dress had an embroidered floral corset, tulle skirt with white chantilly lace and flowy off-the-shoulder silk sleeves.

“Twirl,” Pearl told her. So, Lizzie twirled and the tulle skirt twirled with her. 

“Oh, that's so pretty,” Gem said. 

Katherine temporarily altered the dress so it’d fit Lizzie for the moment while Pearl, Cleo and Gem fawned over how gorgeous she looked in the gown. Jimmy sat on the sofa silently. He kind of just wanted to go home. 

Lizzie coughed and cleared her throat. “What do you think Jimmy?” she asked. 

Jimmy blinked. He could feel everyone staring at him. He self-consciously looked his sister up and down. He thought Lizzie looked beautiful. He knew needed to tell her something smaller. “I like the flowers,” he said quietly.

Lizzie smiled wide with dimples. She turned back to Katherine. “I’m gonna sleep on it, but I think this is the dress.” 

= 

Pearl’s car was always smaller than Jimmy remembered. He fit awkwardly in the passenger seat of his oldest sister’s punch buggy. Jimmy sighed quietly as he buckled his seatbelt and then pulled his knees to his chest. He wanted to feel small. 

“Everything okay?” Pearl asked kindly as she reversed out of the parking lot. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered. He didn’t mean it. He knew Pearl knew. 

“Still missing Scott?” she asked with the same amount of kindness.

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered. He meant it. He knew Pearl knew. 

“Everything okay?” Pearl asked again. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered. “S’just hard.” 

Pearl didn’t look at him, she kept her eyes on the road. “I know,” she hummed. “But it won’t be hard forever.” 

Jimmy sighed. He was wearing an old pair of Scott’s socks. He fiddled with the string of his sweatshirt. “That’s easy to say.” 

“D’you think I’m lying?” Pearl asked with mock-offence. “You’re freshly broken up. You’ll feel better in a few months.” 

“Maybe I won’t,” Jimmy countered. “Maybe I’ll never feel better again.”

“Jimmy . . . ” Pearl trailed off. She sounded more sad than frustrated. 

No one said anything after that so Pearl flicked on the radio to fill the silence. She channel-surfed until she found a station she liked. Classical music. Jimmy didn’t mind. 

They were only a couple minutes away from Jimmy and Grian’s apartment when Pearl cleared her throat and lowered the music. Jimmy turned to look at her. She didn’t look back at him, she was looking at the road. “Did you mean what you said about staying at the greenhouse?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy hummed. “Why?” 

“I mean, surely there are greenhouses and farmhands in Chromia.” 

“I don’t want to go to Chromia though,” Jimmy told her. “I like it here.” 

Pearl finally glanced at him. She looked skeptical. “Do you?” she asked. 

“I do,” Jimmy said painfully. 

Pearl didn’t say anything else afterwards. Jimmy felt like she was judging him. 

“Scott could’ve stayed here,” he countered meekly. 

Pearl shrugged. She turned the corner to Jimmy’s street. “Yeah, he could’ve,” she started. “Or you could’ve gone to Chromia. He hasn’t left yet, has he?” 

“He’s moving right after the wedding,” Jimmy said. “He’s the florist, remember?” 

“Right,” Pearl nodded. 

“I don’t want to go to Chromia though,” Jimmy said, just to restate his point. He needed Pearl to understand.

“Okay,” Pearl said plainly. There was no underlying message.

Jimmy sighed heavily. He wasn’t really upset with Scott. He hoped Scott wasn’t really upset with him. 

Pearl slowed and stopped the car near the front lawn of the apartment complex. She turned the music off completely as Jimmy unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“I’m glad you came with us today,” she said before he could open the door. 

Jimmy didn’t say anything in response. 

Pearl nudged him with her elbow. “Tell Grian I say hi, okay?” she requested as she ruffled his hair again. 

Jimmy clambered out of the punch buggy and closed the door behind him. Pearl rolled down the window as he started to walk away. “Goodnight Jimmy!” she called. “I love you!” 

Jimmy half smiled. “I love you too,” he called back. “Goodnight Pearl.” 

= 

“So, Tim,” Grian said, twirling a strand of stringy cheese with a fork. “What do you think of my pasta bake?” 

Jimmy shrugged. “I think it’s good,” he said with a small mouthful of food. 

“The pasta is whole wheat rigatoni,” Grian told him. 

“It’s good,” Jimmy said as he took another bite. 

“I ran out of cheese halfway through so it’s not as cheesy as it’s supposed to be,” Grian told him. 

“It’s good,” Jimmy said again. 

Grian set his fork down and tilted his head to the side. “Do you actually think it’s good?” 

“Yeah?” Jimmy frowned. “I said it was good.” 

Grian shrugged. “You said it the same way every time with the same tone.” 

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “Sorry.” 

It was quiet for a moment. Grian kept eating. 

“It’s still good even though you ran out of cheese,” Jimmy said, just to reassure his brother that he’d meant what he said. 

Grian smiled. It was his reserved, kind of flustered smile that Jimmy didn’t get to see all that often. It made him smile too. 

“Pearl says hi, by the way,” Jimmy said after a couple more small mouthfuls. 

“Oh yeah,” Grian mumbled. “How was dress shopping?” 

Jimmy shrugged. He looked anywhere but at his brother. His eyes settled on the leftover pasta on his plate. He shoveled the rigatoni around awkwardly with his fork. “It was fine, I guess.” 

He didn’t have to look at Grian to know Grian was looking at him. His brother didn’t immediately press on the wording. “Did Lizzie find a dress?” 

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered. “She said she’s gonna sleep on it though.” 

“What did it look like?” 

“White.” 

Grian blinked at him. “Wow, I would’ve never guessed,” he said sarcastically. “Any defining features?” 

“It had little flowers sewn on the torso.” 

“Cute,” Grian hummed. 

There was no pasta bake left on his brother’s plate anymore. Jimmy’s plate was still half-full. He ate a couple more bites as quickly as he could so Grian wouldn’t have to wait much longer for him to finish and start the dishes. 

“Why was it only fine?” Grian asked. Jimmy was hoping he wouldn’t, so he opted to ignore the question all together. He kept eating the pasta. 

“Jimmy,” Grian said sternly. “Why was it only fine?” 

“What’s wrong with fine?” Jimmy retorted. His fork clattered against the surface of the table. “Why does something always have to be wrong when I say something was fine?” 

“Because that’s the way it’s always been.”

“Things aren’t always going to be the way they’ve always been!” 

“They are with you though!” Grian countered. 

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Grian sighed. “Was it actually fine?” he asked quietly. The sternness was gone. He sounded softer and more sincere. 

Jimmy looked away. He looked at anything but Grian. Grian looked at nothing but him. 

“No,” he admitted under his breath. It was annoying how well his brother knew him sometimes. 

“Why?” Grian asked with the same soft tone.

“They asked about Scott,” Jimmy answered. “Inadvertently and not even really,” he amended immediately when his brother looked at him with alarm. 

Grian’s expression was carefully neutral. “Who is they and what did they ask?” 

“Cleo and Gem,” Jimmy answered. “They asked how graduation was, and then they asked about work so I just said that I was going to stay at the greenhouse.” 

“Oh,” Grian hummed. Jimmy didn’t quite know what it meant. 

There was still pasta bake left on his plate. He wasn’t hungry enough to finish it, which made him feel bad. He wanted Grian to see that he liked it. 

“Are you done eating?” Grian asked and gestured to Jimmy’s plate. 

“Yeah.” 

“Pass it over,” Grian said. “Why don’t you go take a shower or something and I’ll wash dishes tonight?” 

Jimmy wanted to protest. “You washed dishes last night,” he said weakly. 

Grian shrugged. “I can wash them again,” he said softly. “I don’t mind. Now, go take a shower or do whatever you need to do to actually feel fine.” 

“Okay,” Jimmy mumbled and handed the half-empty plate to his brother. He sat at the table by himself for a moment afterwards to think the entire interaction all over again. 

Once Jimmy was done overthinking, he leaned into the doorway of the kitchen. His older brother stood by the sink, scrubbing their dinner dishes with sudsy water. “Grian?” Jimmy called. He rocked back and forth on his heels timidly. 

“Yeah Tim?” 

“Thank you.” 

= 

The midnight air was cool. Tango’s worldview was tinted red. It was wet and cold and dark outside. He was shivering, and trembling violently. His hands couldn’t stop shaking. 

“Tango please,” Bdubs pleaded. “It’s late, let me drive you home.” 

“I don’t want to go with you anymore,” Tango mumbled. 

“I know you’re angry at me, but if you could just hear me out- ” 

“I’m tired of hearing you out!” 

“Tango please,” Bdubs pleaded. “It won’t happen again.” 

“But it will!” Tango retorted. His hands were still shaking. “You always say that. It won’t happen again until it does. What then?” 

Tango took a step back. Bdubs took two steps forwards. Tango took another step back, he stumbled and rolled his ankle on the uneven sidewalk. Bdubs took another two steps forwards. Tango didn’t bother stepping back again.

“It won’t happen again,” Bdubs said unwaveringly. “I promise. This is the last last time.” 

Tango lunged forwards. “The last time in a row!” he seethed. His shaky hands grasped at the fabric of Bdubs’ sweater. Light from the flickering street lamp illuminated Bdubs’ face, whose eyes were wide with something short of fear. Tango took a deep breath. He let go of Bdubs’ sweater. “I’m done with you,” he announced through gritted teeth before turning around and walking away in the opposite direction. 

Bdubs ran after him. He skidded on the sidewalk and stepped in front of Tango to stop him. 

“No, please. Tango, I’m sorry. Etho needed me- ” 

Tango’s gaze hardened. His eyes started to water. “I needed you too!” he shouted angrily. His hands couldn't stop shaking. “I needed my friend.” 

Bdubs had no comeback. He was, for once, speechless. 

“I needed you too,” Tango repeated quietly. 

“Tango, I- . . . ” Bdubs trailed off. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair before speaking again. “What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked. 

Tango stared at him angrily. “Call Impulse, tell him to come pick me up and never speak to me again.” 

Bdubs blinked. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” 

Bdubs blinked again. “You don’t really mean that.” 

“Of course I mean it, Bdubs!” Tango snarled. “You’re a bad friend! Can you just- just call Impulse, please?” 

Bdubs was quiet for a moment. His mouth hung open with shock for a couple seconds longer than necessary. Tango finally looked away. “Okay,” Bdubs said, quiet and emotionlessly. “I’ll call Impulse.” 

Tango sat on the side of the curb. The concrete was cold, the wet kind of the cold that seeped through fabric and crept onto skin. Tango shivered. It was almost one in the morning. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his kneecaps. He took painfully slow breaths to try to calm himself down. Distantly, he could hear Bdubs talking over the phone. 

After a couple of minutes, Tango felt a figure hovering over him. He looked up, hoping to see Impulse. He sighed heavily when he realized it was only Bdubs. 

“Impulse is on his way,” Bdubs told him. He stood a little too close for comfort. “Do you want me to wait with you?” 

Tango looked back down again. “Why would it even matter?” he mumbled. “Leave, for all I care. Go home to Etho or whatever. When will Impulse get here?” 

Bdubs sighed quietly. He glanced at his pocket watch. “Fifteen minutes,” he said, and then he sat on the cold, wet curb beside Tango. Their sweater sleeves were touching. “I’ll wait with you.” 

Tango wanted to scream. He bit his fist. He shuffled away from Bdubs. Bdubs shuffled to sit next to him. He didn’t bother shuffling away again. Tango’s teeth broke skin. He cried silent tears of frustration. 

Initially, Tango didn’t fully process when Impulse arrived, however, distantly, he acknowledged the two of them talking. He heard the words “thank you” come out of Impulse’s mouth and frowned. No one should be thanking Bdubs. 

Suddenly Impulse stood in front of him. He waved a hand in front of Tango’s face. “You in there?” he asked gently. 

Tango blinked. He looked up at Impulse. Impulse looked down at him. He had a hand extended for Tango to take, which he gratefully took. Bdubs was nowhere to be seen by the time Tango was pulled to his feet. 

“Let’s go,” Impulse said quietly, so they walked to his car in relative silence. It felt like the midnight air had gotten cooler.

Tango sat in the passenger seat of Impulse’s car. He buckled up his seatbelt before he could be reminded to. Everything was still tinted red. 

“Are you okay?” Impulse asked before he put the keys into the ignition. 

“Yeah,” Tango answered. It came out quieter than he meant it to. 

“What were you doing?” Impulse asked. It wasn’t judgemental. 

“Walking,” Tango answered. “I lost track of time. The buses stopped running an hour ago and my phone died after I called Bdubs and asked him to come get me.”

Impulse didn’t ask anything else after that but Tango could tell that he wasn’t completely satisfied with his answer. Soon, the car was in motion. Tango closed his suddenly heavy eyes. He wanted his hands to stop shaking. He was tired of trembling. 

“Why didn’t you call me first?” Impulse eventually asked. 

Tango kept his eyes closed. “Cause I already knew you’d answer.” 

He heard Impulse frown. “I don’t understand.” 

Tango sighed. “I wanted Bdubs to answer,” he explained. “He’s supposed to be my friend.” 

“Oh,” Impulse hummed. He was quiet for a moment. Tango wasn’t sure he understood yet. “You were testing his loyalty?” 

Tango nodded. His eyes were still closed. His hands were still shaking. “He’s not loyal to me.” 

“He’s not loyal to anyone,” Impulse said. 

“He’s not loyal to us ,” Tango corrected. “He’s loyal to Etho.” 

Impulse shrugged. He turned the blinker on. Tango listened to its back and forth. “I suppose,” Impulse hummed. 

It was quiet for a moment. 

“Am I taking you to your home or are you coming home with me?” Impulse asked. 

“Can I come home with you?” Tango asked. He finally opened his eyes. His hands weren’t shaking so badly anymore. 

“Of course,” Impulse replied. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked after another quiet lull. 

“About what?” Tango asked. 

Impulse briefly turned to look at him. “Are you really never going to speak to him again?” 

Tango made a weird noise. “You heard that?” 

Impulse winced. “He told me that.” 

“Hilarious,” Tango huffed. His right hand had finally stopped shaking. “I meant what I said. I’m never speaking to Bdubs again.” 

= 

Jimmy and Grian were late, as per usual. His brother was notoriously bad with time. Jimmy was pretty sure it was impossible for Grian to get anywhere early. They were the last ones to get to the tailor’s, other than Etho. 

Joel and Scar were waiting to meet them outside the entry. Joel greeted Jimmy with the same friendliness he always had; a suffocatingly tight hug and couple pats to the back. Jimmy tried to hug him back with the same tightness. His whole body felt numb. 

Once Joel let him go and ruffled a hand through his dirty-blond hair, Jimmy looked to Grian and Scar. His brother’s back was turned towards him and Scar was facing forwards, leaning heavily on his crutches. He smiled and gave Jimmy a curt little nod of acknowledgement. Jimmy smiled and nodded back. He liked Scar, and he liked when Grian was around Scar. Scar brought something out in Grian that he normally didn’t get to see. 

Jimmy then looked back to Joel, who was looking at something on his phone. 

“Etho’s going to be late,” Joel announced. “He says he’ll be here soon but that we should just start without him.” 

Jimmy propped open the door to the tailor’s with his foot. He was the last one inside. Jimmy followed the others into the shop and flinched a little bit as the door slammed shut. He was slightly overwhelmed upon entering, he’d never rented a suit before. He didn’t go to prom. 

Joel talked to the tailor. Grian and Scar talked to each other. Jimmy didn’t talk to anyone, instead he looked around the shop. There were all sorts of dress shirts, dress pants, waistcoats, blazers and ties on displays. It was a lot to look at. Jimmy glanced at the tie racks. There had to be at least a hundred and twenty ties on display. 

A particular shade of blue stood out to Jimmy. He reached for the tie with hesitancy, it felt heavy in his hand. It was the same colour as Scott’s hair. Everything cyan served as a bitter reminder to Jimmy. He bit the inside of his cheek. He missed Scott. 

Joel was still talking to the tailor. Grian and Scar were still talking to each other. Jimmy watched as the door to the shop opened and Etho slipped inside. Jimmy watched as he approached Joel from behind. Jimmy watched as his almost brother-in-law jumped out his skin when Etho startled him. 

Grian and Scar giggled. The tailor Joel had been talking to looked a little unsure of himself. 

“Jeez Etho,” Joel grumbled. He pronounced the th of Etho’s name with an f . “What happened to ‘hello’?” 

Etho looked proud of himself. “Hello,” he said cheekily.

Joel chuffed and rolled his eyes before continuing where he left off with the tailor. 

Jimmy’s attention turned back to the tie. Pearl said he’d feel better in a few months. He wanted her to be right. He didn’t want to be haunted by something blue forever. 

Ten minutes later, Jimmy was wearing maybe the most expensive thing he’d ever worn in his life. The suit felt nice. It was made of cashmere, cotton, silk and other soft materials. Jimmy looked at himself in the small dressing room mirror, he looked good, even without the tie. He hadn’t even bothered with it. He didn’t know how to tie a tie, nobody had ever taught him.

Jimmy stepped out of the dressing room to see the other groomsmen, but not the groom. He couldn't see the tailor either, so Jimmy assumed Joel’s suit was being altered first. 

“You missed a button,” he heard Grian say to Scar. 

“Oh!” Scar hummed as he glanced down at his waistcoat. Sure enough, he had missed a button. Scar didn’t move to fix it though, he was still heavily relying on his crutches to stay on his feet. Jimmy watched as his brother knelt on the tiled floor to button up the button Scar had missed. Okay. 

Etho was looking into one of the larger mirrors outside of the dressing rooms. His head was tilted to the side, in a way that looked almost uncomfortable, as he adjusted his waistcoat and the collar of his shirt. 

Jimmy caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and stepped to the side so he was out of Etho’s way but Etho must’ve seen him anyway because he turned to look at Jimmy. He tilted his head back upright. His red-violet eyes couldn't quite seem to focus. They moved in a rapid back-and-forth motion as he tried to look at Jimmy. 

“You’re not wearing your tie,” he observed. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy admitted quietly. “I don’t know how to tie a tie.” 

“You want me to help you?” he asked. 

Jimmy looked at Etho. His snow-white hair was slicked back with a headband. His eyes were still shifting from side to side. Jimmy knew it wasn’t something Etho could control. Nystagmus. 

“Could you?” 

Etho nodded. He closed his eyes. “Yeah, of course, just give me a sec.” 

“Nystagmic episode?” Jimmy asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yep,” Etho chuckled breathily. 

When the episode passed, Etho titled his back to the same uncomfortable-looking side and tied Jimmy’s tie. He recited the steps slowly and carefully as he went through the motions of tying the tie. Jimmy thanked him profusely afterwards. 

“It’s fine,” Etho told him sincerely. “Honestly,” he smiled. 

Jimmy nodded. He then looked at himself in the mirror Etho had been looking into. He looked good, the tie looked good. The cyan tie popped back into his head. It rested on the display case at the other end of the shop, taunting him. 

Joel finally emerged from his dressing room with the tailor following shortly after him. The other groomsmen, mainly Grian and Scar, told him how amazing he looked while Jimmy, and Etho, quietly agreed. 

“The pastel ties are perfect,” Joel told the tailor. “They’re almost identical to the colour of my fiancé’s hair.” 

Jimmy immediately glanced down at the tie. He hadn’t even noticed. He couldn’t stop thinking about the cyan one. 

Etho nudged Jimmy gently with his elbow. “They’re pink?” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy whispered back. “Pastel pink,” he mumbled. “A really light shade of pink.” 

“Oh.” 

“So,” Grian announced loudly to get the attention of the groomsmen and groom. “We all look amazing.” 

“Amazin’,” Scar echoed. 

“Oh absolutely,” Joel agreed. 

The tailor then proceeded to measure and account for any alterations with the groomsmen. Scar went first, then Etho, then Grian and then finally Jimmy. Minimal alterations were needed. 

Everyone got dressed back into their regular clothes. Jimmy struggled to untie the tie. He tried to follow the steps Etho had given him in reverse. He still struggled. The tailor then proceeded to collect all of their garments. He told them the suits would be altered accordingly and then reserved until they returned to pick up the rentals closer to the date of the wedding. He then bid them farewell. 

Jimmy waved goodbye to the tailor as they left the shop. 

The cyan tie sat heavy in the back of his mind. 

=

It was almost June. The wedding was on the first day of August. Lizzie and Joel had invited everyone over to help hand-make bachelor-bachelorette and wedding invitations. So Pearl, Grian and Jimmy sat around their sister’s kitchen table with all sorts of materials scattered across the table’s surface. 

In the meantime, Lizzie was going through a checklist of wedding tasks and Joel was verifying the tasks’ completion status. 

“The venue is secure?” Lizzie asked. A pencil was tucked behind her ear. She’d been pacing back and forth for the past couple minutes. 

“The venue is secure,” Joel confirmed, sorting through baronial envelopes and showing Pearl the guestlist. 

“Grian,” Lizzie started. “Did you ask Mumbo about being the photographer?” 

“Yes,” Grian replied. “Mumbo said he’d be more than willing to.” 

“Perfect,” Lizzie mumbled as she scratched something off her checklist with a different pencil. “I’ve also already spoken to the baker, Joel, so we have a cake-tasting appointment set for next Saturday.” 

Joel nodded. “I’ve also started making honeymoon reservations.” 

“And you’ve secured them?” she asked. 

“I’ve secured them,” he smiled. 

Lizzie smiled back. Her frantic pacing finally stopped. “Good,” she said as she scratched another thing off her list. 

Pearl fiddled around with the calligraphy pen. Jimmy watched intently as she scribbled with silver ink on light pink parchment paper. He fiddled with botched wax seal stamps and flinched when his other sister suddenly called his name. 

“Jimmy,” Lizzie said and something in her tone had shifted. He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean. “We still have Scott as the florist . . . ” 

“Oh,” Jimmy said, in a painfully neutral tone. 

The room became very quiet. It felt like everyone was staring at him. They probably were. Jimmy looked just beyond Lizzie’s shoulder so he didn’t actually have to look at her. He didn’t want to know how she was looking at him. 

“I know another florist,” Lizzie said when Jimmy didn’t say anything else. “If you don’t want Scott at the wedding, he doesn’t have to be there.” 

“But you want him at the wedding,” Jimmy said. “He’s your florist, and he’s your friend.” 

“And you’re my brother,” she replied, she didn’t say anything else. Jimmy could feel her staring at him. He wanted her to stop staring. 

“I don’t see why you can’t have both of us at the wedding,” Jimmy said quietly. He kept fiddling with the botched wax seal stamps. He made a weird noise when Pearl tried to ease it out of his hands. 

“Jimmy,” Lizzie said in the same tone as earlier. “You look so uncomfortable every time Scott’s mentioned. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at my wedding.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he lied. 

Jimmy glimpsed at his sister. She looked unimpressed. He didn’t have to look at anyone else to know that they wore the same expression. He’d always been a bad liar. 

“I’m not,” he lied again, this time with a little more conviction. “He’s your florist, and your friend. Please don’t not invite him because of me.” 

Lizzie’s pencil hovered hesitantly over her checklist. Her other pencil was still carefully tucked behind her ear. She looked at Jimmy. Jimmy finally felt confident enough to fully look at her. Lizzie looked at him for a long time, she must’ve been reading something Jimmy didn’t realize he was displaying. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, for the last time,” Jimmy said more sharply than he’d meant to. He didn’t want to talk about Scott anymore. “It’s your wedding, not mine,” he said quietly, without the sharpness. “If you want him there, then he should be there. I’m sure.” 

He felt Lizzie’s gaze linger a couple seconds longer than necessary. He reached for the other botched wax seal stamps that littered the surface of the table. They were kin. He knew his other siblings were looking at him weird as well. Jimmy didn’t know who he was trying to fool more; himself, or his siblings. 

A small part of Jimmy knew it was him. 

=

Jimmy was pretty sure his brother was mad at him. Grian hadn’t said anything since they’d left Lizzie and Joel’s house, and he’d shut the car door with a little too much force. Jimmy sat in the passenger seat and pulled his knees to his chest. No one said anything. The silence felt uneasy. 

There was something like a frown on Grian’s face. Jimmy wanted to shrink into the fabric of the car seat. He had no idea what Grian was thinking. He couldn’t read his brother’s thoughts the way his brother could his. 

“Are you mad at me?” Jimmy asked eventually. 

“No?” Grian said with a hint of confusion. He glanced at his brother briefly before looking back at the road. 

“You seem mad,” Jimmy told him. 

“I’m not.” 

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked. 

Grian let out an exasperated huff. “Why do you think I’m mad, Tim?”

“You’re frowning and you haven’t said anything to me since we left Lizzie and Joel’s,” Jimmy mumbled. 

He watched as Grian changed his expression to something more neutral. He didn’t say anything in response to Jimmy’s analysis. 

“So are you?” Jimmy asked timidly. 

“Am I what?” 

“Mad.” 

“No,” Grian snapped. His tone was sharp and bitter. His expression was still neutral. He sounded mad. “I’m not mad.” 

“But you’re not happy with me?” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m mad,” Grian said with the same sharp and bitter tone as before. 

Jimmy was close to tears. “Then what does it mean?” he asked with something like desperation in his voice. 

Grian sighed. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. His knuckles were white. “Why are you letting Lizzie invite Scott?” 

“What?” 

“Why are you- ” 

“I thought you liked Scott,” Jimmy interrupted. He pulled his knees closer to his chest. He wanted to be as small as possible. 

“I do,” Grian said. “I like Scott perfectly fine. I just- I can’t understand why you want him at the wedding.” 

“He’s the florist and Lizzie’s friend,” Jimmy explained. 

“They’re only really friends through you though,” Grian said flatly. “And Lizzie knows another florist.” 

“They’re not only friends only through me,” Jimmy protested. 

Grian gave him a skeptical look. “Timmy,” he said. “They absolutely are. They wouldn’t know each other on a personal level if Scott wasn’t your boyfriend.” 

Jimmy glared at his brother. He wasn’t exactly sure what emotion he was trying to convey or what expression he was wearing but clearly it got the point across because Grian coughed to correct himself. “Ex-boyfriend, I mean,” he said. “Sorry.” 

Jimmy didn’t bother responding, he didn’t really have anything coherent to say anyways. He glanced out the window, they were almost back to the apartment. 

Grian carefully parked the car in its designated spot in the lot. He locked the car doors from the inside before Jimmy could clamber out. 

“What?” he snarled. 

“I just- . . . is everything fine, Jim?” he asked with a softer tone. “Like actually, genuinely fine?” 

Jimmy didn’t answer, he slouched back into his seat with defeat. Grian nudged him gently with his elbow. “I don’t know,” Jimmy finally said. “I just miss him a lot.” 

He watched for a moment as Grian’s expression shifted from something kind to something less caring. “So your solution is to see him at the wedding before he moves back home? Not gonna lie, Tim, that’s a terrible plan.” 

“That’s not my plan!” Jimmy countered. “I don’t- what? I don’t have a plan. Lizzie wanted him to be the florist, and not just because he was my boyfriend. It’s her wedding. I’m not taking that away from her.” 

“She’s not going to suffer if Scott isn’t the florist, Jimmy,” Grian said, like he didn’t already know that. “You don’t have to suffer for the sake of other people.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Jimmy announced. He tried to open the car door. It was still locked. He was stuck in the car with Grian. 

Neither of them said anything. Jimmy’s face was wet. He sniffled loudly. He didn’t know when he’d started crying. 

“I just . . . I worry about you sometimes,” Grian admitted quietly. “A lot, actually.” 

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible at comforting people, y’know,” Jimmy said wetly, something in the pit of his stomach churned when he saw his brother’s expression crumple. 

“Are you working tomorrow?” Grian asked. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered. 

“D’you need a ride to the greenhouse?” 

Jimmy was pretty sure this was his brother’s way of apologizing. “Yeah,” he answered. 

Grian finally unlocked the doors. “I’ll drive you.” 

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered. “I have an early shift though,” he said as he clambered out of the car. “Are you- is that still okay?” 

“I’ll drive you,” Grian said again. “I’m driving you.” 

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered again, so Grian would know he was forgiven, as they walked to their flat together in a somber yet comfortable silence. 

= 

“He feels terrible, Tango, really,” Skizz said. 

“Okay,” Tango shrugged. “Then he can keep feeling terrible, that’s not my problem.” 

Impulse didn’t add anything to the conversation. Neither did Etho. Tango sighed and fiddled with the fraying edges of the restaurant’s well-worn menu. He knew dinner was going to be awkward, he had just hoped it wouldn’t be awkward immediately. Oh well. 

Skizz sat beside Impulse on the other side of the booth. He glanced from Tango to Etho to Impulse and then back and forth again. Tango had stopped fiddling with the menu and sat with his arms crossed. Etho, who sat beside him, held his chin in his palm with his elbow propped up against the table and had his eyes closed. Nystagmus. Impulse actually took the time to skim through the menu. 

A waitress came by to offer them drinks. Everyone ordered water and with a curt little nod the waitress was off. No one said anything for the two minutes she was gone. The waitress returned with a tray of glasses, of which she carefully placed in front of everyone, and a water pitcher that she set in the center of the table. 

“Could I have a straw?” Tango asked. 

“Sure,” the waitress smiled. 

Impulse reached for the pitcher and poured everyone’s drinks. He poured Tango’s drink last and made sure that the glass was half-full. Tango’s hands trembled as he ripped the paper wrapper off the straw. 

“Are you ready to place your orders now or do you need a little more time?” the waitress asked politely. 

Skizz glanced around the table. Impulse and Tango nodded. Etho didn’t move. 

“Etho?” Skizz asked as Tango prodded him in the rib with an elbow. 

“Oh, yep yep,” he hummed. 

The waitress scribbled their orders down onto a small notepad with a ballpoint pen. No one ordered anything fancy, mostly just burger and fry combos. It wasn’t like there was really anything special at the diner anyways, it had always been more sentimental than satisfactory. 

“Why should I forgive Bdubs just because he feels terrible?” Tango said suddenly, after the waitress had left.  

Impulse and Skizz sat up a little straighter in their seats. Etho’s eyes stayed closed, he didn’t seem to have any physical reaction to the question. 

“Etho,” Tango said, because no one else said anything. “Do you actually need Bdubs as often as he says you do?” 

Etho shrugged. “I mean, sometimes,” he admitted. He opened his eyes and tilted his head to the side to look at Tango. His red-violet eyes couldn’t quite seem to focus. They moved in a rapid back-and-forth motion as he tried to look at Tango. “His help is nice, when I need it. Bdubs can be . . . overbearingly considerate. It’s . . . ” Etho trailed off. He closed his eyes again. “He worries a lot. I have health conditions,” he shrugged, gesturing to himself. 

Tango paused for a moment to fully observe his friend. It had never been a secret that Etho had albinism. It’d be pretty hard to hide; his hair, eyelashes and eyebrows were snow-white, his eyes were red-violet, his complexion was seemingly unnaturally pale, he was colourblind and probably some form of regular blind as well. Etho’s albinism had never been a secret. 

Tango grumbled. 

“I’m not justifying his behaviour, by the way,” Etho clarified. “I don’t think he should be standing you up for me, or anyone else, but I also think this is something the two of you should work out. Both you and Bdubs would probably shoot the messenger.” 

“I wouldn’t shoot the messenger,” Tango mumbled. 

Impulse and Skizz exchanged a disbelieving glance. 

“I wouldn’t!” 

“Is this something the two of you will work out though?” Skizz asked. 

Tango reached for his drink. His hands trembled as he picked up and held the cup. He downed the glass in one sip and he made sure that the straw made an obnoxious slurping sound when he got to the bottom of the glass, just to show his distaste for the question. 

“No,” Tango finally answered. “I don’t even want to work it out. Bdubs has shown me time and time again that he’s unreliable. Why would I want to be friends with someone who isn’t reliable?” 

“He’s not entirely unreliable,” Impulse countered. 

Tango frowned. “Why are you defending him?” he asked. “Bdubs has done you almost as dirty as he’s done me.” 

“This isn’t a very good dinner conversation,” Etho interrupted. His eyes were still closed but his expression was clearly pained. “Can we talk about something other than my unreliable partner?” 

“I- yeah,” Tango squeaked. “Sorry.” 

With impeccable timing, the waitress returned to deliver their dinners. Her presence diluted the awkwardness of the evening. It gave Tango time to mull over what Etho had said. They all thanked the waitress before she disappeared to tend to other tables. 

“Etho, I heard you’re one of the groomsmen for Lizzie and Joel’s wedding,” Impulse said after everyone had had a couple bites of food. 

“Yep, yep,” Etho confirmed. “We went to the tailor’s the other day and tried on rental suits. I think Scar’s going to be the best man.” 

Impulse raised his eyebrows but a small smile was plastered across his face. “Really?”

Tango snarfed down most of his fries as Etho and Impulse talked about wedding guests and best men. His mouth ran dry from the saltiness of his food. He reached for his glass only to realize he’d already dranken all the water. Tango’s hands hadn’t stopped trembling today and he didn’t feel like spilling an entire pitcher of water on himself so, he nudged his cup closer and closer to Skizz, who looked up from his food when the glass clinked on the side of his plate. 

Skizz looked at Tango inquisitively, then at the glass, and then back at Tango again. They stared at each other for a moment before Skizz reached for the pitcher and half-filled Tango’s glass again. 

Okay, good. Him and Skizz were still good. 

“He actually asked me to be his best man first,” Etho said, which immediately caught Tango’s attention. 

“You were asked to be someone’s best man?” he asked incredulously. 

Etho laughed. “Uh huh, I declined though,” he answered. “Public speaking isn’t really my thing. I’m honoured that Joel even asked, but I think Scar would make a much better best man than me anyways.” 

The rest of dinner was nice and not awkward, because the topic of Bdubs was avoided entirely. When the waitress came back with their bills, they left a generous tip before parting ways. As in, Etho had his own ride home and the other three all drove home together. 

“Can I ask you a question, Tango?” Skizz asked from the passenger seat. 

“Fire away.” 

“You’re very lenient towards Etho,” he said. “Why is that?” 

Tango frowned a little. “What do you mean?” 

“Etho and Bdubs have a lot of the same tendencies,” Skizz said. “They’re both often late or postponing or whatever. You drill Bdubs for that kind of behaviour, but you let it slide with Etho. Why?” 

Tango held his trembling hands in his lap. “Cause Etho’s not unreliable in the same Bdubs is,” he said. “Etho’s hesitant, Bdubs is impulsive. Y’know, opposites attract or whatever, and Etho’s lateness is logical; he’s nystagmic and dizzy, it’s too sunny and bright outside and he’s gonna get sunburnt. Bdubs’ lateness is illogical and unpredictable and I never really know why I’m getting stood up. I only know that in Bdubs’ eyes, everything is second place when Etho’s around.” 

It was quiet for a moment, other than the low hum of the engine. 

“You been thinking about that for a while?” Impulse asked. 

“Yeah,” Tango sighed. His left hand was trembling more than his right. 

“I’m glad you’re not letting your relationship with Bdubs affect your relationship with Etho,” Skizz said quietly. 

“I mean, that was probably a jerk thing to do,” Tango admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He could hear Impulse and Skizz frown from the backseat. 

“What was?” 

“Y’know, to talk about how unreliable Bdubs is in front of his partner. I know we’re all a little bit flawed but if I had a partner and someone was talking about them the way I was talking about Bdubs to his boyfriend, I wouldn’t think very kindly of that person,” Tango answered. 

Impulse shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But I think Etho understands your situation, from both sides. And sure it wasn’t the most considerate thing to say, but I don’t think he’ll think unkindly of you because of it.” 

Tango sucked in a shallow, frustrated breath. “It just sucks, y’know?” he said. “Bdubs is supposed to be my friend. He’s been my friend longer than he’s been with Etho. Shouldn’t there be some loyalty with lifelong friends?” 

It was quiet for a moment. 

“You two are lifelong friends,” Tango told them. “The loyalist of lifelong friends. Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“Always,” Impulse and Skizz said at the same time. 

Tango half-smiled. “And forever, right?” 

“Of course dude,” Skizz said. “We love you long time.” 

= 

“Are you gonna need a ride home?” Grian asked before his younger brother could get out of the car. 

“I can just take the bus back,” Jimmy answered. “It’s fine.” 

“No- no,” Grian stuttered. “That wasn’t what I was implying, I just have a showing this afternoon, and I know you hate the bus. When does your shift end?” 

Jimmy glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Uh, five?” 

“Five?” Grian repeated. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Grian said. “I should be able to pick you up then. I’ll see you at five?” 

Jimmy nodded. He knew Grian was still going to be late. “I’ll see you at five,” he said as he clambered out of the car. He watched his older brother drive away before he made his way to the back of the building. 

The greenhouse was closed to the public on Sunday. Jimmy entered through the staff doors, he punched in the entry code and punched in on the punch clock. Sunday shifts were easy, calm and quiet. He picked up a watering can and watered the summer annuals. He activated the sprinklers in the tropical room. He checked on the germination table and turned on the misters. He fed the chickens. Rancher, the greenhouse cat, trailed behind Jimmy the entire time. 

“Such a good kitty,” he cooed, gently rubbing the cat’s head. “Such a good boy.” 

On Sunday shifts, Rancher was his buddy. On most shifts Rancher was his buddy, actually. The mischievous orange tabby had taken a strong liking towards Jimmy when he’d first started out at the greenhouse as a co-op student and since then, the liking had only grown stronger. 

The cat purred when Jimmy scratched behind his ears. 

“Let’s get you fed now, shall we?”  

So Jimmy fed the cat. He turned off the sprinklers in the tropical room afterwards. From then on, it was general maintenance. Jimmy didn’t check on the hydroponic towers, he only checked on the hydroponic table, which was still broken. He was pretty sure his boss had said a mechanic would be coming in sometime today so he tended to other tasks until then. 

It was mid-morning when, while Jimmy was transplanting cherry tomatoes, a face suddenly pressed up against the glass of the staff door. Jimmy jumped out of his skin and dropped a handful of sandy loam onto the concrete floor. 

He took a moment to recover before wiping whatever dirt was caked onto his hands onto his overalls before opening the door to greet the mechanic and welcome him into the greenhouse. 

There was a tentative silence for a moment before the mechanic cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, gesturing to dirt spilt by the wheelbarrow.

Jimmy ran a hand through the back of hair. “Oh don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he said. “I’d still have to sweep later anyways.” 

The mechanic nodded and they fell back into another weirdly tentative silence. Jimmy rocked back and forth on his heels. The mechanic fiddled with the handle of his toolbox. 

“So, you’re Jimmy,” he said when it became clear that Jimmy wasn’t going to say anything else. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy replied. “And you’re . . . ? Sorry,” he said. “My boss didn’t leave a name, just said a handyman was coming in.”

The mechanic brushed it off. He tilted his head up a little to look at Jimmy, because Jimmy was just a little taller than him. “Tango,” he smiled and extended the hand that wasn’t holding his toolbox. 

Jimmy nodded. He shook Tango’s hand. Jimmy’s hand was cold and still caked with dirt. Tango’s hand was warm, sweaty and kind of clammy. His grip on Jimmy’s hand was firm and strong, but he was trembling. Like a significant amount. Jimmy was trembling from how much Tango was trembling. It wasn’t his place to say anything about it. 

“You’re trembling,” Jimmy said when their hands retracted. He cringed at himself internally. Why did he say that? 

“Yeah,” Tango shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed relatively unbothered. “I have a chronic tremble.” 

“Oh,” Jimmy said lamely. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

Tango brushed off the apology. “Don’t be. Anyways,” he said. “Hydroponics. Mind showing me the hydroponics?” 

Jimmy felt frozen. Tango smiled too kindly at him. Jimmy couldn’t figure out how to smile back. Tango still smiled at him. It didn’t feel forced. He smiled patiently while Jimmy took the time to figure out how to smile back. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy finally said. He wiped his suddenly very sweaty hands on his overalls. “Follow me.” 

So Tango followed him through the greenhouse. Jimmy walked slower than usual because he could tell Tango was curious from the way he was glancing around at everything with something like awe sparkling in his eyes. 

“Who’s this little fella?” Tango asked suddenly. 

Jimmy frowned. He turned around to find Tango kneeling on the concrete floor next to the cat, who was curled around his ankles, asking kindly to be pet. 

“That’s Rancher,” Jimmy said, frown dissolving. “He’s the greenhouse cat.” 

Tango scratched behind the cat’s ears. Rancher started purring loudly. 

“Greenhouse cat?” Tango asked. 

“Pest control,” Jimmy explained. “And good company.” 

The cat followed them all the way to the hydroponic room and snuck in through the industrial flappy curtains. Jimmy sighed. Rancher technically wasn’t supposed to be in here, so Jimmy’d have to keep an eye on him, because he didn’t feel like hunting him down today or dealing with any orange cat shenanigans, however Rancher seemed pretty content to just stand at Tango’s heels, tail curled around one of his calves. 

“Woah,” Tango said under his breath. There were rows and rows and rows of bountiful and flourishing hydroponic towers. “Which one needs fixing?” 

“None of them,” Jimmy answered, diverting his attention in a different direction. “It’s the table that needs fixing.” 

Tango turned to look where Jimmy was looking. “Oh,” he muttered softly. The hydroponic table was pretty underwhelming when compared to the towers. “Okay.” 

Nobody immediately moved. Rancher still stood at Tango’s heels. Jimmy felt a little betrayed. He couldn’t believe this cat. 

Jimmy rhythmically tapped his fingertips against each other. “Do you, uh, need anything?” he asked awkwardly, teetering on his heels. He fully looked at Tango. 

Tango looked away from the table. He fully looked at Jimmy. “Nope,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” Jimmy said, just as quietly. 

So, while Tango fixed the table, Jimmy tended to the towers and tested their PH levels. It was kind of nice to have another person around like this, where they’re alone but together, y’know, other than the cat, who was cuddling up to Tango underneath the table. 

Jimmy worked slower than usual because he wanted to finish working at the same time as Tango. He dilly-dallied for an extra hour and a half but he still finished before Tango, so he sat on one of the stools and watched him work, in a normal way. He noticed one of Tango’s hands was trembling more than the other. 

“I don’t charge by the hour, by the way,” he said after a couple of minutes. 

Jimmy blinked. “What?” 

“I don’t charge by the hour,” Tango repeated. “You were staring,” he added quietly. 

Jimmy blinked again. Tango wasn’t looking at him, in fact, his focus had never shifted from the hydroponic table at all, so Jimmy didn’t know how he knew. Jimmy blinked again. 

“How’d you know?” he blurted. 

Tango shrugged. His brow furrowed with concentration. “Just a feeling.” 

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “Sorry.”

“S’it’s fine.” 

So Jimmy didn’t look away. 

After a couple of minutes, and a long quiet lull, Tango gathered his tools and slid out from underneath the table. The cat, who had been nestled up next to his tool box, yawned and did a big stretch before scurrying after the mechanic again. 

Tango dusted his hands off on his pants before placing them on his hips. “Fixificated,” he told Jimmy with a smile. 

“Fixificated?” Jimmy said, still sitting on the stool. It sounded unsure. 

“Fixificated,” Tango repeated confidently. 

“What was the problem?” Jimmy asked. 

“Faulty piping,” he explained. “And roots clogging the faulty pipes,” he added. 

“Oh,” Jimmy said dumbly. 

Tango looked at Jimmy intently, then at the table, and then back at Jimmy again. Jimmy only ever looked at Tango. It was quiet for a careful, tender moment. 

“Mind showing me the exit?” Tango asked softly. 

“Oh! Yeah,” Jimmy exclaimed. “Of course.” 

So, Jimmy led him to the exit, which was also the entrance. They stood an awkward distance apart as they said goodbye but Tango didn’t immediately move to leave afterwards. Jimmy rocked back and forth on his heels timidly. It felt like something more should be said. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Tango ended up saying. It wasn’t what Jimmy wanted to hear. He smiled at Jimmy again as he waved goodbye with the hand that wasn’t holding his toolbox. His hand was still trembling, if not more so than before. 

“It was nice meeting you too,” Jimmy said. He wasn’t sure if Tango heard him. 

He felt frozen again as he watched Tango slip out the staff door. It felt like his feet were cemented to the freaking floor. The cat pawed furiously at the glass once Tango was gone. Jimmy was left with an awkward feeling pooling in gut. 

He wished he’d said more. He wasn’t sure why. His smile was like candlelight, flickering and unsteady. He’d never felt like that before. 

=

Jimmy lost at bowling. Badly. In fact, both his brother and almost brother-in-law told him that they didn’t know it was possible for someone to be that bad at bowling. 

“I don’t bowl very often,” Jimmy argued as he untied his bowling shoes. “You don’t even bowl often, Joel,” he frowned. “Why’d you pick bowling anyways?” 

Joel shrugged. “It’s my bachelor party,” he stated, like it wasn’t already obvious. There was a hint of mischief in his smile. Jimmy exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “Also cause it’s fun.” 

“Real,” Grian mumbled. 

“True,” Scar chimed in. 

Jimmy scowled at his brother first, then at his brother’s second half. “That’s because you won.” 

“Get better at bowling then,” Joel scoffed teasingly. “I mean, even Etho scored higher than you and he’s half-blind.” 

“Visually impaired,” Etho interjected. 

“Visually impaired,” Joel immediately corrected. 

They all lined up their bowling shoes neatly on the counter before making their way back to the car. Grian sat in the driver’s seat, Joel sat in the passenger. Etho and Scar sat in the backseat and Jimmy sat squished in between the two of them with Scar’s crutches resting on top of all of three of their laps. 

There was a lot of different conversations all going on at the same time. Grian talked to Etho. Joel and Scar talked to each other. Jimmy didn’t talk to anyone, nor did he really care to listen. Jimmy’s stomach grumbled. He had half the mind to feel embarrassed about it. He also didn’t know where they were going for dinner. 

“Um, Joel,” Jimmy interrupted. “Where are we going?” 

“The Tavern,” he answered. 

“The Tavern,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. 

Joel turned around in his seat to look at him. Jimmy didn’t try to hide anything. He let Joel look for whatever he was looking for. He didn’t know what he needed to hide anyways. “That okay?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah.” 

The Tavern was arguably one of Jimmy's least favourite places to be. He’d only been once, but once was enough. It was loud, crowded and the lights hurt his eyes. It was Joel’s bachelor party, and the Tavern was arguably one of Joel’s favourite places to be, for all of those reasons. Atmosphere, or whatever. 

The five of them were seated at a circle table near the bar. Joel sat next to Scar, Scar sat next to Grian, Grian sat next to Jimmy, Jimmy sat next to Etho and Etho sat next to Joel and back round again. Their server greeted them with glasses of water and menus. Jimmy spared one glance at the menu before deciding that nothing looked even remotely appealing. As in, it was full of food he’d never eaten before.  

Grian kicked his foot underneath the table. 

“What?” Jimmy whispered. 

“What’s that face for?” 

“What face?” Jimmy asked. He quickly adjusted his contorted expression into something more neutral. 

“That,” Grian said accusingly. “That’s not your real face. What are you really thinking?” 

Jimmy didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Joel and Scar, both of whom were perusing the menu with some kind of excitement Jimmy didn’t understand. 

Grian kicked his foot again. 

“Ow!” he hissed. “What was that for?” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Jimmy blinked. The lights hurt his eyes. He squinted at Grian. His eyes were brown. His dishwater-blond bangs were getting really long. He waited quietly for his younger brother’s answer. Jimmy blinked again before he looked away. 

“I can’t eat anything here,” he whispered. 

“Why not?” Grian asked in such a kind tone that Jimmy wanted to cry. 

“I can’t,” he said again, without elaborating. 

“Why not, Jimmy?” 

“I’ve never eaten here before. What if I order something I don’t like and then I waste both money and food and- ” 

“Tim,” Grian interrupted. “Take a deep breath. You can just order a side of fries or something. It’s okay.” 

Jimmy blinked. He blinked back tears. He took a deep breath. He felt his brother’s eyes still on him. 

“It’s okay,” Grian repeated. 

Jimmy nodded. His eyes were still watery. He didn’t know why they were watery in the first place. 

When the server came to take their drink and dinner orders, Jimmy just asked for a side of fries, like Grian suggested, and a pint of beer. Jimmy wasn’t a big drinker, but he drank more than he ate tonight. By the time dinner was brought to their table, Jimmy had already downed two and a half pints. 

Jimmy reached hungrily for a handful of fries. He probably shouldnt’ve drank so much on an empty stomach. He probably shouldnt’ve drank at all, actually, because Jimmy wasn’t someone who felt tipsy. He was someone who felt normal. Normal. So normal, in fact, that he reached for a small handful of whatever was on the side of Grian’s plate without fear for their taste or texture. 

“Those are buffalo chips, Tim,” Grian warned.

Jimmy shrugged. “S’it’s fine.” 

Grian raised his eyebrows. Jimmy ignored him and swallowed down the chips he instantly regretted eating with a swig of beer. It wasn’t a big deal. 

Jimmy looked around the table. Grian. Scar. Joel. Etho. Jimmy looked at Etho carefully, and then all the way back round again. Jimmy was never the shortest person around, but for once he wasn’t the tallest by a longshot; him and Etho both stood a little over six foot. That was the other nice thing about alcohol. Jimmy didn’t feel like he was too big, so he didn’t feel the need to feel small. He felt normal. 

Jimmy reached for another handful of Grian’s buffalo chips when Etho nudged him with his elbow. Jimmy dropped the chips and they scattered across the tabletop as he turned away to look at Etho, who shifted his half-empty plate a little closer to Jimmy’s. 

Jimmy tilted his head to the side. “ Are you sure?” he mouthed. 

Etho blinked slowly. His red-violet eyes were focused. He stared at Jimmy intently. Jimmy blinked back at him and Etho shifted his plate a little closer. It was mostly just leftover fries and breadcrumbs. Etho blinked again. His eyes were still focused on Jimmy. “ I’m sure,” he mouthed back. 

“Thank you,” Jimmy said quietly as he snagged the leftovers from Etho’s plate. 

Etho just smiled back. Jimmy knew it meant “ you’re welcome ”. 

Around midnight, after singing and karaoke and dancing, the mostly drunken bachelor party left the Tavern. They sat in the same seating arrangement as before; Grian as the designated driver, Joel in the passenger while Etho, Scar and Jimmy were squished into the backseat of the car. Before they even left the parking lot, Scar rested his head on Jimmy’s shoulder and dozed off. Jimmy hoped Scar didn’t drool in his sleep. 

Joel was dropped off first. He whispered loudly and thanked everyone for such a wonderful night with a slight slur before sauntering to his front door. Grian waited in the driveway till Joel had stepped into his house and closed the door behind him before driving away. 

Etho got dropped off next. Jimmy was drowsy and tired and heavy-lidded by the time the car had come to a complete stop in Etho’s driveway. He rested his head on top of Scar’s, who was still resting on top of his shoulder. Distantly, Jimmy heard Etho mutter something almost panicky about being nystagmic so Grian helped him out of the car and guided him to his front porch, where Bdubs was waiting with the door wide open. 

By the time they got to Scar’s apartment, the both of them had woken up. Grian helped Scar out the side door, Jimmy got out the other side and offered Scar his crutches once he was almost standing. The other accepted them gratefully. 

Jimmy heard Grian ask Scar if he had anyone at home. 

“Yeah,” Scar hummed. “I’ve got Cub,” he sing-songed. “You don’t always need to be so worried, Grian.”  

“I’m not worried,” Grian countered, but Jimmy was pretty sure he was already worrying anyways. “I just want to know that you’ll be okay tomorrow morning.” 

“You just want to be the one to take care of me, don’t you?” Scar asked with a drunken smirk. Or maybe it wasn’t drunk. Jimmy couldn’t tell if he normally smiled with so many teeth. 

“Get in the car, Timmy,” Grian huffed with exasperation. Jimmy felt too normal and not sober to bother decoding any underlying messages. He wished Grian would just say what he meant sometimes. 

Jimmy watched his brother watch Scar hobble into the lobby of his apartment building. Grian smiled and it was that same kind of reserved and flustered smile that Jimmy didn’t get to see all that often. Grian looked fondly and longingly at Scar. Jimmy just wanted his brother to be happy. 

“So,” Jimmy hummed while Grian buckled up his seatbelt again. 

“Not a word, Tim,” Grian warned. “Not a word.” 

So Jimmy giggled.  

“I said not a word.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Jimmy giggled. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Grian retorted. 

“You should ask Scar to be your date to the wedding,” Jimmy said, which was apparently the wrong thing to say because Grian suddenly slammed on the brakes even though they were far enough away from the red light to not need to. 

“What?” 

Jimmy’s sobriety suddenly returned. Grian looked at him with an expression Jimmy could only describe as distressed. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He felt like he was moments away from being scolded but he said the same words again anyways. 

“You should ask Scar to be your date to the wedding.” 

Grian blinked at him with a combination of alarm and disbelief. Jimmy was pretty sure Grian’s jaw had unhinged or something because his mouth hung open for far too long. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Jimmy asked with increasing hesitancy. Grian blinked again. He didn’t answer Jimmy’s question. “The, um. The light’s green, by the way,” Jimmy whispered. 

Grian nodded. He took his foot off the gas and then kept driving, but he still didn’t say anything, which only made Jimmy feel more and more self-conscious of himself and his assumption. To hell with social cues. 

“How’d you know?” Grian finally asked. They were maybe five minutes away from the apartment. 

“What?” 

“How’d you- ” 

“You do like him?” Jimmy asked with relief seeping into his voice. 

Grian looked away from the road to look at him. He was looking for something, Jimmy was sure, so he let Grian look for whatever he was looking for. 

“I think so,” Grian said quietly. 

Jimmy frowned. “You think so?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you know?” 

“Shut up,” Grian retorted. “How’d you know?” 

“How’d I know what?” 

Grian scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Timmy,” he said sharply. 

“Oh. Uh . . . you’re softer when Scar’s around, kind of,” Jimmy answered. “You’re more lighthearted and um, mushy-gushy.” 

“Mushy-gushy?” Grian gagged.

“I don’t know!” Jimmy countered.

His brother just laughed. “I can’t wait until you’re mushy-gushy about someone again,” Grian said, and Jimmy almost tensed. But he didn’t. He was just a little too drunk to care about the implication of Scott right now. 

The car suddenly came to a halt. Jimmy lurched forwards as bile crept up his throat. 

“Do not throw up in my car,” Grian warned. 

“I won’t,” Jimmy promised, unmoving with his hands covering his mouth to keep anything from creeping out. 

Grian unlocked the car, unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out the vehicle. He walked around to Jimmy’s side of the car and opened the door. He knelt down on the concrete so he was at the same level as his younger brother, who was keeling over himself. 

“How much did you drink?” he asked quietly. 

Jimmy shrugged. He heard Grian sigh. 

“How drunk are you?” 

Jimmy didn’t answer immediately, he was too busy swallowing back bile. His throat burned, his eyes watered. “Maybe too drunk,” he replied. 

“C’mere,” Grian said. He unbuckled his little brother’s seatbelt and pulled him out the car. Jimmy tripped over his own feet and almost fell face first into the concrete. Grian caught him though, in the nick of time. He heard Grian take a big breath. “Oh lord, give me strength,” he mumbled. 

Jimmy drunkenly swayed from side to side. He felt like he was going to crack open his skull, so he clung desperately to his brother for balance, nearly smothering him in the process. 

“Timmy,” Grian screeched. “Timmy!” He clawed his brother off of him, before looping an arm around his waist and slinging Jimmy’s arm around his shoulder to keep the both of them steady. 

“You’re freakishly tall, y’know that?” Grian said as they, very slowly, made their way across the parking lot. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy teased. “Well, you’re freakishly short.” 

Grian scoffed. “Enough out of you, you’re freakishly drunk.” 

“Wait, stop!” Jimmy shrieked. He leant away from Grian and doubled down to his knees. Grian helped soften his fall. The bile crept back up his throat and he threw up on the freshly mowed lawn of the apartment complex. Jimmy wasn't quite crying, but his eyes wouldn’t stop watering. His throat burned. Grian gently brushed his brother’s bangs out of his face. 

After a long, painful minute, Jimmy stopped dry-heaving. Grian pulled him back to his feet. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you to bed.”  

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered. He let Grian guide him to the elevator. Jimmy was real crying now. He was feeling too much, which meant he wasn’t feeling normal anymore. 

“Are you gonna ask Scar to be your date to the wedding?” Jimmy asked, just before the elevator doors opened up to their floor. 

Grian blinked. He looked at Jimmy, whose face was red and blotchy and wet, carefully. “Do you think he’d like that?” 

Jimmy nodded. “I think he would.” 

Grian looked at his little brother for a second longer than necessary. He blinked once,  twice, then thrice. “Okay,” he said as the two of them stepped out of the elevator in tandem. “I’ll ask him.” 

It was quiet for a moment, other than their footsteps echoing down the long and narrow corridor. Grian fiddled with the keys on his lanyard as he looked for the one that unlocked their apartment. Jimmy leant to the side and rested his head on top of Grian’s. He closed his eyes tightly. He was suddenly aware of how awful he felt. 

“Do you want me to get you an ibuprofen?” Grian asked quietly, like he could read his brother’s mind. 

“Please,” Jimmy whispered.  

“Okay.” 

“Was everything else from tonight fine?” 

Jimmy kept his eyes shut. His lip wouldn’t stop quivering. “I wish I was better at having fun, Grian,” he choked.

The lanyard and keychain clattered on the floor as Grian pulled his little brother into a hug. Jimmy let out a quiet sob. He had to bend down to bury his face into his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Grian said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Jimmy sniffled. “It’s not your fault I’m like this.” 

Grian was quiet for a moment. He pulled Jimmy a little closer. “It’s not yours either.” 

= 

“What’s that?” Tango asked. 

Skizz looked up from the fancy envelope. “Wedding invitation,” he answered. 

Tango tilted his head to the side. He set down the soda can he’d taken out of the fridge onto the kitchen counter. “Who’s getting married?” 

“Lizzie and Joel,” Impulse answered. Both him and Skizz sat on the island stools, investigating the contents of the baronial envelopes. 

Tango frowned, both in confusion and in concentration as he tried to open the pop can by propping the tab up with a spoon. Then it clicked, both the soda can and who his friends were talking about. “Oh! Joel’s the guy who asked Etho to be his best man, right?” 

“Yeah,” Skizz smiled. 

“You wanna be a plus one, Tango?” Impulse asked. “Platonically.”

Tango made a weird noise as he slid a straw into the opening of the soda can. 

“What?” Impulse asked. 

“If Etho’s going,” he started. “Then that usually means Bdubs is going too, right?” 

Skizz set down his invitation. “Yeah, so?” 

Tango scowled at the both of them. He could feel his hands begin to tremble. “I’m still angry at him.” 

Impulse sighed. “When was the last time you went out somewhere fun?” he asked, instead of asking about Bdubs. Tango opened his mouth to answer, but Impulse kept talking. “Like actually went out? Because dinner with us and Etho the other week doesn’t count.” 

Tango closed his mouth. He had to think about his answer, which inadvertently gave Impulse an answer. Too long. Tango took a sip of his soda. “A while,” he settled for after setting his drink back down on the counter. 

“Would it kill you to go out again?” 

“If Bdubs is there,” Tango mumbled. “Maybe. Who knows?” 

Impulse rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna come?” 

Tango fiddled with the straw. “Do you actually want me to?” he asked. He looked at Skizz and Impulse, both of whom were looking at him. They nodded like bobbleheads. 

“And this isn’t, like, an ambush to get me to talk to Bdubs or something, right?” 

“It’s not an ambush,” they both said at the same time. 

Tango took a long sip of his soda while he pretended to think about his answer. “Okay,” he murmured eventually. “I’ll go, but no funny business. I really don’t want to talk to Bdubs, okay?” 

Skizz and Impulse nodded. They still looked like bobbleheads. “Okay,” Skizz said. 

“I’ll RSVP one plus one then,” Impulse smiled. 

= 

With their rental suits in hand, Jimmy and Grian left the tailor’s shop and began walking back to their car. They were downtown. It was summertime, and patio season, so all the local restaurants had cutesy patios set up along down the street. 

The sidewalk they walked on was shaded, thank goodness, by umbrellas and canopies. Jimmy felt like he was going to melt. He hated July, July was awful. How was anyone on any one of these patios enjoying themselves? It was way too warm and sunny outside.

Grian was telling Jimmy a story that he was only half-listening to. “And so Mumbo said- ” 

He saw a familiar shade of blue from across the street. 

“And I was like- ” 

Cyan. 

“And then Scar said- ” 

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks. 

Scott. 

Across the street, Scott sat under one of the patio canopies. He sat with friends that used to be friendly to Jimmy. Scott’s pale, freckled arm was slung around another guy’s shoulder. He was smiling. He was drinking. He was laughing. He looked entirely unaffected. 

“Wh- ?” Grian asked, but it sounded muddled and far away. “Tim?” 

Jimmy couldn’t look away, something blue was calling to him. It didn’t take long for Grian to realize who he was looking at. 

“Oh.” 

He let Jimmy stare at Scott for a couple more seconds before tugging at the hem of his brother’s shirt. 

“C’mon Jim,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Jimmy didn’t move. He couldn’t. How could he? It felt like his feet were cemented to the sidewalk. 

Grian tugged at his shirt again. Jimmy finally looked away. He blinked back tears. 

He looked entirely unaffected.  

“Let’s go.” 

Jimmy sniffled. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”