Aggie & Paris - Chapter 2 - canniclown (2024)

Chapter Text

Paris has grown to love the museum, in the few short weeks that she’s worked here.

The discovery room is pretty relaxed, for the most part, aside from a couple shifts during the week where she gets to watch over the museum’s daycare program, while the other counselors teach little classes or play with the kids outside. It’s actually a pretty easy gig, because the few kids that frequent the museum’s daycare, all too young to be in kindergarten, are used to being in the discovery classrooms. Some are a bit rowdy, and sure, she has to change a diaper here and there, but she likes it. It’s way easier to deal with a room of three or four polite four-year-olds than with all the entitled assholes that would screech in her face at Panera.

She already knew a few people, surprisingly, who worked here, too. Even besides Aggie and Eden, who started a little before Paris did, the museum’s chef and one of the wildlife experts worked at her Panera Bread. They weren’t close, by any means, but it was nice to see familiar faces nonetheless.

Paris has found, especially recently, that being around more familiar faces is incredibly helpful to the state of her mental health.

Nearly a year and a half ago, her mother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer, and she passed away. It was hard, and something Paris still isn’t entirely convinced she’s recovered from or grieved properly for, but it happened. She thought, in her mother’s passing, that she could rely on her remaining family. Her brother, Felix, and her father, who works on some barge out in the middle of the ocean, who only got enough time off work for the funeral. Even Felix, elusive as he is, made an appearance, but he left, too. He lives in their parent’s stupid beach house a stupid hour and a half away from the city, and their dad is on a stupid boat doing stupid welding and Paris was left alone. Sitting quietly in their big empty house, daydreaming of a family that would visit. Praying for a family that worried about her wellbeing, that cared that she lost her mother so suddenly, that would comfort her, and hold her, and make her feel safe.

She got that through Sion, her estranged and battered aunt who her parents barely spoke to anymore. Paris had reached out to her on an absolute whim, knowing Sion’s history with cancer scares and caring for her son, just for some advice. But a couple lunches here and there became late night dinners with her son and son-in-law, which then became Paris spending nearly every second at their house to avoid going back to her own. Even when Sion is out of town, visiting her internet boyfriend up North, Paris sleeps on their couch, to avoid going to her own sad, empty home with nobody waiting for her. At least at Sion’s house, Paris has a nice garden, and she has brothers who want to be around her, and she has a space where she can finally, slowly, exhale.

It’s helpful at work, too, to work with cool people. It’s a good distraction, having friends, so her mind doesn’t wander to the dark places it wants to. She doesn’t have to worry about cancer, or mastectomies, or being alone. She can just pick up as many shifts as she wants, and she can hang out with Tav or work in her garden, and she never has to feel sad again.

There are three girls she works with in the discovery room. There’s Faith, who is arguably pretty normal, but kind, without a bad bone in her body. Paris did a lot of her training with Faith, before she got assigned to work shifts with Cosmo. Unlike Faith, Cosmo is a gossip. She’s nice, of course, and Paris likes working with her, but she yaps a lot about the other people who work at the museum, and about her boyfriend, who she sometimes sneaks off to go make out with, leaving Paris alone to watch the kids by herself. Paris doesn’t blame her, if she’s happy. Plus, Cosmo has a hotspot on her phone that she lets Paris use, which is pretty cool.

They all report directly to Pixel, who is probably the strangest person Paris has ever met. Like the other discovery room girls, Pixel is incredibly nice, but she’s weird. She talks a mile a minute, and she tells everyone about her sex life in horribly graphic detail, and she goes through these weird phases where she puts on animal ears and meows like a cat, and won’t answer you unless you meow back to her. Paris actually thinks it’s pretty funny, and there’s something really relaxing about working for a girl who thinks she’s a cat. She doesn’t get that same, nervous, anxious feeling she used to get when talking to other bosses she’s had or supervisors she’s worked for. How can anybody be nervous talking to a cat?

Presently, she’s sitting out on the steps of the covered walkway, watching over the kids in the enclosed classroom playground while somewhere behind her, Pixel is yapping about something Paris can’t really hear. They’re setting up the bird room for some kind of girl scout event that Paris knows nothing about, so she’s content to just watch the kids and make sure they don’t eat dirt.

Footsteps on the walkway draw her attention, as Cosmo sort of stomps over to sit next to her, dropping onto the stairs with a loud, heavy sigh.

“Hey,” Paris mumbles, politely, relaxing her forearms against her knees to pull down the sleeves of the sweater she’s got under her uniform shirt.

“Hey,” Cosmo braces her hands on the floor behind them, shaking her hair out to rest behind her shoulders. “You like me, right? Like, how much are we friends?”

“Yeah.” Paris turns away from her to wave at one of the kids that brings her a toy to look at. “Oh, that’s cool, bud!” He grins, toothily, and runs back to his friends. “We’re friends. What’s up?”

Cosmo exhales, slowly, and digs into her bra to pull out her little vape, concealing it in the sleeve of her hoodie and sucking on it, before blowing it out into her shirt. “Okay, so,” She pauses, glancing over her shoulder, before she continues. “As a friend, can you take my shift tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m already working tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Cosmo grits her teeth, trying to smile. “I mean the sleepover. I could lie to you, and tell you I’m busy, but I just don’t want to do it.” She glances over her shoulder again. “No offense to Pixel, I know she loves it, it’s just… not my idea of a Saturday night, you know?”

Paris blinks at her, kind of confused by what she means when she says sleepover. “What is it?”

“Oh,” Cosmo sighs. “I forgot you’re new. Okay so, basically there’s this girl scout troop who all love Pixel, and when they do camps, they try to schedule with the museum to be with her. They spend the night watching movies in the main room and sleeping in sleeping bags and stuff. Their parents stay, of course, but TJ wants there to be enough people to keep watch so we stay in ratio, and Pixel asked me and I just really don’t want to. I want to go home and f*ck off and literally do anything besides spend the night at the museum.”

“Do you want to swap with me?” Paris asks, trying to be nice. “I’m here all day tomorrow.”

Cosmo wrings her hands together, squeezing her vape. “I can’t tomorrow. We have someone staying with us, and Sebastian feels bad leaving him home by himself, and everyone else is working, so…”

“What time is the sleepover?”

“Seven.”

“Um,” Paris chuckles, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m not working eight hours, then staying all night for a sleepover.”

“Ugh,” Cosmo sighs. “It’s like you’re not even working, though, you just let Pixel do all the work and then you sit around and do nothing, and get paid overtime to just sit there.”

“No.” Paris shrugs. “Sorry. Maybe you could ask Faith.”

“Faith is already going,” Cosmo sighs, again. “They need a third cover.”

“Well…” Paris chews on her bottom lip, looking back out at the toddlers in the playground. “Sorry.”

Again, Cosmo sighs, long and dramatically. “It’s fine. I figured it was a long shot, anyway.”

Paris worries that maybe her saying no makes things awkward between them, but she would feel more inclined to take it if Cosmo had an emergency or something, or a real excuse. What makes her think Paris doesn’t have big Saturday night plans, too? She doesn't, but she could.

Thankfully, Cosmo isn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge over that sort of thing, so it’s not hard to make it through till lunch. Paris just focuses on working and meowing back at Pixel whenever she needs something before moving on to lunch.

One of the cool things about TJ is that he doesn’t care about a lot of stuff. As long as everyone is working when they’re supposed to work, he lets a lot of sh*t slide. Paris was there when Eden asked him, very nervously, if his husband could come to the museum during the day to write. It’s cute to think about now, how quickly TJ made it clear that he didn’t mind that sort of thing at all, because Eden still bought a yearly pass for Tav to get in anyway.

Tav being here is probably the second best part about the museum at all. Paris loves him, and she was worried about him staying home all day when Eden started going to work, but this museum has actually been so wonderful for all of them. Paris has something to distract her from feeling sad all the time, Eden is up and walking more, and feeling more confident about himself, and Tav is out of the house.

Paris has never seen him leave the house before now, aside from walking with Eden in their backyard garden. She always chalked it up to a lack-of-sight related agoraphobia, like maybe he was just so used to being home, that he developed an anxious fear of leaving the house at all. She’s kind of starting to understand that it’s more than that, Tav loves talking to people and going places, he’s just very… afraid of being inconvenient to someone. She’s seen him tense over it, too uncomfortable to ask anyone but Eden to tell him where something is or help him walk somewhere. Paris is so thankful the people who work at this museum are all so open and accepting of each other, because everyone is so kind to Tav, and watching him smile about it makes her heart threaten to burst in her chest.

It’s all TJ, she knows it is. The longer she’s been here, the more she’s realized that nearly everyone who works here is personal friends with the man, and that most of them are people who TJ helped at their lowest. Ex-addicts, felons, outcasts, anyone who needed help, no matter the situation, TJ helped them through it. And now, they all help each other, in little ways, like his unyielding selflessness has rubbed off on them all. She sees it every day, how they speak to each other, how they work together. It’s actually pretty cool, and enviable, and the way that so many people have found friendship and acceptance outside of their own sh*tty, tragic pasts is something Paris needed. She wanted a family that cared about her, and she got Eden and Tav and Sion, and now she has a job full of people that will care about her, too.

And it is really, incredibly, heartwarming to see how it affects Tav, especially. Paris has never seen him like this.

She walks into the cafe, raking her fingers through her long hair to comb out some toddler-induced tangles, and Tav is sitting at the bar along the far wall, chattering pleasantly with Skyler, sat beside him. Paris worked with Skyler for a few months at Panera Bread, and he’s pretty nice, a burly, jokingly mean kind of guy who’s really sweet under his bitter, grouchy exterior. He has a service dog, a border collie, who sits under the feet of his chair, her head resting pleasantly on her crossed paws.

Tav looks tiny next to Skyler, with pale, scrawny limbs and hunched posture, but he’s smiling. Paris’ chest swells.

“Oh, hey Paris,” Skyler says, gesturing openly with one arm.

This is another thing that makes Paris internally kick her little feet with glee. Everyone, including herself, has sort of caught on to little ways to make Tav more comfortable. Paris first noticed that Eden did this when she started spending more time with them, greeting anyone who enters a room by name so Tav won’t be startled at any new voices or movement. Paris tries to do the same, and watching everyone else wordlessly adjust just makes her feel so happy.

“Hi.” Tav smiles, angling his head towards the sound of her footsteps, and holds his hand out for her to take. She squeezes his palm before dropping to her knees to pet Rangoon.

“Hey, answer a question for us,” Skyler laughs, dropping his elbows over the back of his chair. “Who was your gay awakening?”

“Oh, God,” Paris scratches behind Rangoon’s ears, smiling to herself when Rangoon happily closes her eyes. “Why?”

“I’m asking everybody.” He says, vaguely gesturing towards the cafe’s kitchen, where he probably should be working. “Well, mostly just the cool people. Mine was Zak Bagans.”

“Really?” Paris asks, scrunching her nose up in disgust before standing to drop beside Tav, putting her hand on his back so he knows where she is. “Zak Bagans?”

“Oh yeah, I was really into Ghost Adventures.” Skyler says, nodding to himself. “Not my proudest jerk, I’ll tell you that, but something about the rhinestones in his jeans and the sound of his voice really got me going. I would fall asleep watching it, listening to his voice, and I’d have all these nasty dreams about him.” He pauses, smiling when that makes Tav giggle, covering his mouth with scrawny hands. “What about you?”

Paris sighs, glancing up at the ceiling while she thinks. “Well, fun fact about me, I used to date men.” Skyler snorts. “Then, I was friends with this girl, in high school, and everyone always made these jokes about us being lesbians, and I used to laugh it off. But I look back on it now, and I was definitely into her. She got a boyfriend and I went ballistic.”

She glances at Tav, and Skyler sits up to fold his arms. “Octavian?”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” Tav chuckles, shaking his head. “And don’t laugh.”

“I just told you I beat it to Zak Bagans. I’m not gonna laugh, come on.”

“Okay,” Tav smiles, covering his mouth again. “So, I was eleven.”

“Prime gay awakening age.” Skyler says, seriously. “Continue.”

“Okay,” Tav giggles again, his cheeks reddening. Paris watches his pale eyes tremble. “I paid fifteen dollars for an audiobook.” Paris leans closer to him, when Skyler does, as Tav’s voice gets a little quieter. “It was Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Skyler does laugh, and Tav bats at his shoulder, embarrassed. “No, no, that’s great, I’m sorry.” Skyler reaches a hand up to wipe the corner of his eyes. “What did it for you?”

“I don’t know,” Tav laughs again. “All of it? I listened to it like twenty times. My parents are kind of conservative, so I would hide under my blankets and listen to it and think about… uh, you know.”

“Yeah, your secret boyfriend, Christian Grey.” Paris says, and Tav bats at her, too. “Did you like the movie?”

“No.” Tav sighs, slumping a little in his chair. “I have to have audio descriptions on for everything, and listening to the movie narrator was just not the same. The books are in first person, so, like, I could imagine myself, but listening to him with a woman ruined it for me. I tried to rewatch it as an adult, and it was God-f*cking-awful, Eden turned it off.” Skyler laughs a bit louder at that, and Tav shakes his head again. “Even the books are absolute garbage, but as, like, a closeted, bed rotting middle schooler with no taste, they meant everything to me.”

“I don’t know how you read that stuff,” Skyler chuckles, twisting in his chair a little to check on Rangoon, still cozy under his feet. “Or write it.”

“Oh, well,” Tav’s cheeks darken, holding a hand out to nervously nudge the edge of his laptop keyboard. “Do you watch p*rn?”

Skyler barks another laugh, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What a f*cking question.”

Tav laughs, too, his fingertips still against his laptop. “Well, do you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tav waves one of his hands, gesturing at his keyboard. “Well, I can’t watch p*rn, so this is… all I’ve got. Plus, it’s just fun, I like to write.”

Skyler rolls his eyes, jokingly. “You know, it’s a goddamn miracle you turned out so twinky, if you couldn’t watch p*rn. How else would you know what to do when you actually f*ck someone?”

Tav replies dryly, twisting his fingers together on the table. “Thank you, Skyler. Really, it’s a miracle my sex life doesn’t suffer because of my disability. Oh, my poor, poor husband.”

They laugh together, like old friends would, and Paris smiles to herself. She genuinely can’t believe how good the museum has been to them. Tav has friends. She can’t believe it.

A customer walks in, their child in tow, and Skyler calls out to them. “Hey, welcome in. One second, let me get up,” He pats Tav’s arm as he pushes out of his chair, waving for Rangoon to follow him back into the kitchen to get back to work.

Paris leans into Tav’s shoulder, peeking at the screen of his laptop. “Speaking of writing… any updates?”

Tav pushes her away with his elbow. “No! It’s not ready yet. I’m still editing this chapter.”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be edited, you could just let me read it.” Paris would never read anything he writes before he tells her she can, but she leans a little closer anyway, if only to catch a glimpse of some of the character names.

“It’s not ready,” Tav pushes her again, shaking his head. “I’m not done with it yet, and you can’t read it before Eden. What if it sucks?”

“It won’t,” Paris fake groans. “I swear to God, I’ve been waiting for Asra to just get his sh*t together and apologize. It’s not Vesper’s fault Asra’s stupid mate just happened to show up. I would’ve yelled at that motherf*cker, too, and Asra has no right to be as mad as he is.”

“Well,” Tav taps his thumbs on the table, tucking his shoulder to his ear, nervously. “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

Paris narrows her eyes.

Now, Paris is certainly a lesbian. She’s kissed men before, she’s been on dates with men, but it was solely a result of a heteronormative upbringing, in a heteronormative society that encourages heteronormativity so much that she got confused. She has since figured out that physically, she is not attracted to men. It is hard to even imagine it, to remember what her previous kisses have felt like, to picture herself having a future with a man. She just doesn’t like them, and even though she’s never actually dated a woman before, that doesn’t mean she’s not a lesbian, she just does not like men at all.

However, Tav is an incredibly gifted writer, and he is gay. And he writes gay romance. And Paris is absolutely obsessed with it.

He writes horrible, nasty, graphic smut, and Paris devours every single word. She was honored, a little over a year ago, when she became so curious about what Tav could be working on so frequently, that he let her read one of his books, and honestly, she expected it to suck. Not even because she didn’t believe Tav was a good writer, she’s just had friends before who have given her things to read that bored her, or that just generally weren’t good. But Tav has written serieses of novels since he was like eight. It’s the only thing he likes and the only thing he does. Paris spent a month or two getting close to him, watching him stay inside and write while she worked on her garden, before she asked him about it. And he sent her a link to one of his books. And she read it in one day.

Tav has written so much, and there are a lot of works he won’t give her permission to read, either because they’re too old or unfinished. But, he has a pretty decent following on his weird little blog, and there are real people other than Eden and Paris who pay to download his books on Kindle. They’re cheap, but people really read them.

Currently, Tav is writing the fourth book in a charmingly raunchy romance called Immortal Thirst, and it is genuinely the only interesting book series Paris has ever read. It’s about rival vampire clans, and each book has different characters, and chapters upon chapters of forbidden gay romance and sex and vampires and Paris eats it the f*ck up. Since she finished the first three, Tav has been kind enough to let her read his chapters as he finishes them, once his husband gets to read them first, of course, and Paris spends nearly every second she’s next to Tav begging him for spoilers.

This is the best one so far. Yes, it also is just an abundance of cliches and forbidden romance and horny vampires, but Asra is a werewolf and Paris loves him. He is stubborn, and he makes frustrating decisions, but if she doesn’t get to read about him soon, she may explode.

“Could you at least tell me what the f*ck is wrong with Essie? Because, I get she’s, like, Asra’s moonstricken omega, or whatever, but Asra is so obviously not into women. Like, God, all that sh*t with the lust moon, he was barely paying attention to any of the mating rituals, or any traditions. Does Essie really believe they’re mates, or is that just what his mom is forcing on them?”

Tav smiles, shrugging his shoulders, sweetly. “I don’t know, Paris. Asra’s mom is their pack leader, so… that wouldn’t surprise me.”

Paris squeals, and grabs his arm to shake him around a little, and he laughs.

They continue to talk about his book for a little while, until Paris has to give up on getting anything too spoilery from him and ask him how his day is going. It’s really nice to sit with him, even though she’ll have to go back to work soon. Tav is, in Felix’s absence, Paris’ favorite brother. It makes her feel good to see him talk about his day and smile, after a year straight of watching his smile fall when he admits to laying in bed all day or feeling sad. He’s out of the house, and he’s happy, and he’s writing this f*cking book, and Paris is just so happy she gets to witness it.

Customers come and go, and eventually, Paris stops checking the door to see who’s coming in and out, until TJ seems to suddenly appear beside them. She didn’t even notice him walking towards them.

“Hey, TJ,” She says, and Tav turns towards his footsteps.

“Hey, guys,” TJ says, warmly, slowly pulling out the chair Skyler was in before. “Mind if I sit?”

“Oh, sure,” Tav says, smiling politely. It drops, a second later, and he quickly shuts his laptop to hide the smut. “How are you?”

TJ sighs, folding his arms on the tabletop and looking out at the museum playground below the cafe. “I’m alright today, Tav, thank you for asking. I wanted to pick your brain about something.”

Tav’s white eyelashes flutter, and he sort of leans away, nervously, putting his hand up to his mouth to make himself smaller. “Oh, okay.”

“We’ve got these, uh…” TJ sits up to dig in the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a handful of crinkled pamphlets. Paris leans closer to Tav so she can see them. “Pamphlets, for the museum, and I finally got the final prints of our new map, and I went to put them in the pamphlets, but, uh… They were written about ten years ago. I need to update them, but I’m not a writer.” TJ chuckles, looking back out at the playground. “I’m up in the front office a lot, lately, and, you know, your husband has an awful lot of good things to say about you.”

“Oh,” Tav’s face flushes pink, instantly. “Sorry. Yeah, he’s… he’s sweet.”

“I was thinking about hiring someone to update these for me.” TJ looks down at the pamphlets, opening one up to flip through it. “Do you do any freelance writing?” Beneath the table, Paris squeezes Tav’s hand, because she knows he needs it. He shakes his head, and TJ continues. “Well, I would just need someone to write about the museum, and I was hoping you would be interested in a job like that.”

“Oh,” Tav mumbles again. “Really?”

“Yeah!” TJ grins. “I got kind of a glowing review about your writing. It wouldn’t be much, and we could talk about it today, and I’ll get your payment squared up with Marc and then, maybe we could meet a few days this week? And work together to make these legible?”

“Yes,” Tav smiles, and Paris squeezes his hand today. “Yeah, that would be really cool, I’d love that.”

“Awesome, cool beans.” TJ flips open some more of the pamphlets, looking through them. “I kind of want to write profiles about some of our rehab animals, too. A lot of these are just about Old Florida, but I want them to be more personable, more about our animals. I could get Desi to sit with us, I bet something about Perky the duck would be great in one of these.”

“That’s a good idea.” Tav says, and he opens his laptop, quickly typing in his password and smashing the x on his chapter so he can open a new doc to jot down some notes. He pauses, sort of gasping to himself. “Oh my God, the ducks.” He turns his head, quickly, to Paris. “I totally forgot about the ducks. Can you find Eden and tell him that lady called me back about the ducks? I forgot. Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Oh!” Paris smiles. “Sure! I’m sure he won’t mind,” She adds, as she stands, which seems to calm him down a little. “But, I’ll go let him know anyway. See you guys later.”

Tav squeezes her hand as she goes, and Paris excuses herself past a group of customers wandering up into the cafe and steps out into the cool air. She tugs on the sleeves of her sweater as she walks up the hill past the museum’s center, waving to one of the zipline employees relaxing with his feet kicked up in the harness hut and making her way towards the front office.

She holds the door open for a mother to walk through with her son in tow, grateful for the warm air of the museum’s entrance. It’s nice up here, and kept very clean, a long hallway of little artifacts and decor to welcome in guests before they walk out into the lush forest of the museum. Paris turns to the left, into the gift shop, nearly stopping dead in her tracks when she sees Aggie.

Aggie is Eden’s friend, probably his closest friend aside from Tav and Paris, and she is also the most interesting person Paris thinks she’s ever met. They met briefly, a few weeks ago, when Eden dragged Paris along to his support group for cancer patients, and they had a nice lunch together. Aggie is chest tighteningly attractive, the sort of relaxed, confident person that Paris can see herself growing an attachment to. Wide-shouldered and barrel-chested, with soft brown hair and dark eyes Paris wants to get lost in.

She spent days bitching to Tav and Eden about how f*cking cool Aggie is, until Tav finally encouraged her to invite Aggie over. It went well, at first, and Paris showed Aggie her garden, and she hand picked mushrooms to cook for her, and she held Aggie’s big hand as they walked together, quietly, as the sun set around them, and she hoped. She prayed, internally, that Aggie would kiss her, and then, Paris remembered dinner, and she had to go, before it burned. The rest of the night was so awkward, because Paris’ f*cking foot was in her mouth the whole time, because she just ruined her one chance to get closer to Aggie.

They work together now, which has been nice, at least. Paris tries to make up little excuses to see her now and then, like offering to take over Pixel’s little speeches when Aggie brings a tour through, or taking her breaks out in Old Florida, sitting on the steps of the plantation home just so Aggie will walk past her. She’s gotten really good at it, at tilting her head back, and waving, nonchalantly, and saying hi.

Thinking about it doesn’t sound as f*cking cool as it is in her head when it happens, but Aggie always says hi back, so Paris counts it as a win.

She tries to keep calm now, watching Aggie squeeze little birds on the shelf at the back of the gift shop, gasping with Eden as they imitate the calls of each bird as she picks them up. She looks good today, her hair pulled up high on top of her head, exposing the patchy shaved sides behind her ears. She turns a little, and Paris can see the soft curve of the bridge of her nose, and the gentle upturn of her lips as she whispers something to Eden, who laughs and pats her arm affectionately.

Paris walks up to them slowly, letting them get through another bird’s call before she says a polite, yet very cool, “Hey.”

Aggie turns, smiling, and Paris can’t help herself, staring longingly up into Aggie’s brown eyes. There is so much life behind her eyes, like she has the deepest, wisest soul Paris has ever met.

“Hey,” Eden says, eventually, grabbing one of the birds to hold out for Paris to squeeze. “Listen to this.”

Tentatively, she takes her eyes away from Aggie’s, and she squeezes the little bird, smiling when it whistles a soft little tune. “Oh, cute.”

“Right, I love these,” Eden puts it back on its perch, carefully. “Someone bought one this morning and I didn’t even know we sold these. They’re so cute.” He grins, toothily, and Paris’ heart swells for him the way it swells for Tav.

They haven’t been here for very long, but the museum is working its wonders on Eden, too. It’s nice to see him out of his element, in a museum shirt with his tank tucked towards his back. He has a little nametag on, and he doesn’t look as tired as he normally does, or as small. Paris barely registers how tall he is, normally, but he’s actually taller than Aggie. It’s not really an impressive feat to be taller than Paris, who’s under five foot, or Tav, who’s taller than her, but still very short for a guy. He fits perfectly beneath Eden’s arm like they’re meant to be together, and Paris is used to seeing them together.

But Eden is taller than Aggie, and Aggie isn’t short by any means, maybe 5’8” or 5’9”. Eden looks very tall right now. Maybe his posture is straight today.

“Hey, are you doing this sleepover thing?”

Paris blinks, turning quietly to look back up at Aggie. She genuinely wasn’t expecting her to ask that. “Oh, the girl scout thing?”

“Yeah,” Aggie huffs a sigh, folding her thick arms over her chest. Even under her hoodie, Paris can see the outline of how wide her arms are. She wonders if Aggie is strong. “TJ wants me to stay to show the troop around before it gets too dark, but I’ve never really worked with anyone doing it. I’ve met the uh… yappy cat girl a few times, but I don’t know.” She pauses, smirking, the studs in her dimples twisting as she does. “I was kind of hoping you would be there.”

Oh. Paris smiles, and lies, easy. “Yeah, I’m covering for Cosmo.”

“Sweet,” Aggie reaches out to grab another bird, tipping it out to Eden for him to squeeze, too.

Paris was not expecting to even want to do this stupid sleepover, but, f*ck if she’ll pass up an opportunity to spend time with Aggie. Plus, in the museum at night, no less, when everyone else is sleeping. Just the two of them.

Eden picks up another one of the birds, drawing her attention away from her thoughts, and it’s a little mallard, that chirps and quacks and makes Eden and Aggie laugh together. Paris’ eyes widen, and she pats Eden’s arm. “Oh, hey, sorry, I forgot. Tav sent me up here to tell you he heard back from the lady about the ducks.”

“Oh!” Eden grins, putting the duck back so he can fold his hands together to contain his excitement. “What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” Paris shrugs. “He just said she called back.”

“Good news I hope,” Eden says, and Paris shrugs again. She doesn’t even know what ducks they’re talking about. Aggie actually asks, which Paris is grateful for, suddenly worried maybe Eden or Tav already told her about them and she forgot. “I’m trying to get runner ducks for my garden. We found this woman on marketplace, she’s got some runner duck chicks, and I’m trying to adopt them.”

“Ducks.” Aggie repeats. “Why ducks?”

Eden beams, like he’s genuinely really excited she asked him. He bounces on his toes a little, wringing his hands together to keep from moving around too much. “They’re perfect for gardening if they free roam, they eat slugs and bugs so our vegetables won’t get destroyed, and they’re natural fertilizers. Plus, they’re just cute, and I’m thinking about expanding my pond a little and getting the ducks a nice little coop. Have you ever seen a runner duck?”

Aggie shakes her head, and Eden pulls out his phone to show them both. Paris doesn’t think ducks are particularly cute, but she’s glad Eden is excited anyway.

A customer comes in, and he quickly excuses himself to stand behind the register, so Aggie and Paris walk out together. Paris tries not to shiver when Aggie’s shoulder brushes her own.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Aggie asks, her eyebrows raised as she smirks again, and Paris can only nod, like an idiot, smiling stupidly while Aggie heads off to get back to work.

Heart pounding, Paris returns to the discovery rooms, finding Cosmo and grabbing her by the arm, pulling her off to the side of the classroom, out of earshot from all the kids.

“I will take your stupid sleepover shift, but you owe me.”

“Yeah?” Cosmo beams, nodding, clapping her hands together, up in front of her chest. “I owe you. Whatever you want, thank you.”

Paris releases her, and exhales, trying to mentally prepare herself for working a double tomorrow, and pulling an all nighter.

When the museum closes for the day, Paris drives Eden and Tav home, as she always does, listening to Tav talk about his new job with TJ. Paris feels pretty proud of him, of both of them, for being so open to change lately. She’s happy to sit and listen while they gush about their own jobs while she quietly anticipates her upcoming night with Aggie.

When they’re home, Paris spends some time out in her garden, watering her plants and bobbing her head to music in her airpods. It’s always nice to roll up her sleeves and work on it for an hour or two, to spend some quiet time by herself and get her hands dirty. She doesn’t end up feeling like cooking, so she asks Eden if they can order in, on her way inside, which he would never oppose to.

She changes in their little bathroom, careful to leave everything right where it’s supposed to be, for Tav. There’s only one bathroom, and generally, for the entire house, everyone tries to let Tav know when they move something, so it’s easier for Paris to just be careful not to touch anything. She pulls on some loose fitting pajama pants and takes her bra off, swapping her museum shirt for something comfier and walks her dirty clothes to the hamper in the hallway.

Eden’s bedroom is quite literally the same as she assumes it’s been since he was a teenager, albeit with a bigger bed. The walls are covered in old posters of boy bands and pop stars, movies he likes and obscure celebrities he must have idolized. It’s small, and his bed is pushed up against the back wall, in the corner, to leave more space for Tav to be able to walk around easier. Like a lot of Eden’s house, there’s medical equipment pushed up against the walls, out of the way but not in storage or out of reach, in case of any sort of emergency. Paris likes to keep her eyes off it all, flopping back on his neatly made bed and putting her head on Tav’s pillow.

Tav sits at the desk, typing on his laptop again, and Paris makes a show of rolling over, staring at the back of his white hair. “Can you do me a huge favor?”

Slowly, Tav exhales. “What?”

“Can you read me just one sentence from the chapter you’re writing?” Paris folds her hands together, pleadingly. “I’m going to be at work all day tomorrow, and I’m sleepy, and you love me, and I need sustenance. Just one sentence.”

Tav sighs again, and disconnects his headphones from his laptop, to highlight a sentence from his doc for the speak to text to read out to her. “‘Asra feels overwhelmed, now.’”

Paris rolls onto her back and lets her arms flop down against the mattress, making a show of whining about it. “Give me something better, that was like two words.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!” Paris folds her arms across her chest. “I’m going through withdrawals and you’re torturing me.”

“Jesus, hang on,” Tav chuckles, shaking his head, scrolling through the doc to find something for her. The speak to text cycles as he scrolls through it, reading out anything the cursor touches. It’s a jumble of random words and punctuation, and Paris is always impressed that Tav is able to listen to that and still focus on writing. It reads out everything on the screen, and she knows, logically, he’s had his entire life to get used to it, but it’s still cool.

Before Paris met Tav, she never realized how much she takes being able to see for granted.

He settles on a sentence, and the speak to text reads out exactly what he’s doing and what his mouse touches. “Highlight. Highlight. Comma. Highlight. Period.”

It buffers for a second, and Tav twists in his chair, spinning his legs around. “I tried to pick one you’ll like.”

Paris beams, and it speaks. “‘The rut calls to him, every instinct begging to feel his knot in Vesper’s f*ckhole again, every nerve heightened by the resplendence of the moon.’”

Blinking, Paris stares up at the ceiling, her mouth slightly agape. She takes a moment to let herself really process every word, rolling her head a little to look over at Tav again. “f*ckhole?” He nods. “Are they going to hook up again?”

Smiling, Tav rolls around in his chair to shut his laptop. “They're fighting, Parry.”

“I know they’re fighting,” Paris hisses. “I just need to know if they’re going to make up.”

Tav merely shrugs, getting up from the desk to walk over to the bed. Paris moves closer to the wall to make room for him, as he untucks the covers to lay beside her, pulling the blanket up over himself and getting comfortable on Eden’s pillow. “I guess you’ll have to wait.”

Paris rolls her eyes, and she wishes he would stop saying that.

She rolls again, and her back lands on a hard, horribly sharp object right in her spine. She groans, and sits up to dig for it, grumbling to herself and holding it out to look at it. It’s this old, dingy stuffed animal they keep in their bed. It’s ugly, and it used to be yellow, with beady little eyes and limp, threadbare rabbit ears. Paris drops it beside Tav’s head. “Will you do something about this thing? It dug into my spine.”

Tav lifts his hand to pat it, feeling the rabbit’s nose and gasping, instantly picking it up to hold to his chest. “Don’t drop him like that, he’s sensitive. And he’s old, he could unravel.”

“He’s ugly,” Paris says, her upper lip curling. “And he’s so creepy, one of his eyes is falling off.”

Tav runs his hands over it, gentle on the button eyes. “Please be nice to Wiggles. He didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah he did, he poked me in the back.”

“Well, don’t lay on him,” Tav says, plainly, and Paris laughs, but Tav rolls onto his side to run his hand over the rabbit’s limp ears. “Seriously, Wiggles is Eden’s. Don’t f*ck him up.”

“I’m not f*cking him up, he attacked me.” Paris laughs, reaching for it, Tav tucks it away under the blankets, where she can’t reach. “Come on.”

“No, leave him alone. Wiggles is Eden’s and he’s special.” Tav rolls over, putting his back to her. “You’re such a bully.”

“I am not.” Paris says, flopping back against the pillows.

They continue to bicker for a little while until Eden returns from the garden, staring down at Paris as she wags her fingers at him. “Why are you always in my bed?”

She merely shrugs, and promises not to look while he changes, making a show of covering her eyes and rolling the other way. She doesn’t uncover them until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching quietly while Tav sits up to help untangle Eden’s tubes from the neck of his shirt and settle them over his ears, into his nose. He makes Paris move further up against the wall so Tav can lay in the middle, opening his arms for Eden to settle next to him and pull Tav close to his chest.

Paris is sure this would probably be weird to other people, but Paris truly thinks of them both like her brothers. She loves just spending time near them, even if they’re all lying quietly in bed and playing on their phones, or if she is painfully third wheeling while they hold each other. It’s just nice to be around them, and it doesn’t feel weird to her at all.

She mentions dinner again, so they pick somewhere together, and Eden pulls up the menu on his phone so he can read out some options to Tav, who rests his head peacefully on Eden’s chest.

When they’re done ordering, Eden passes his phone to Paris so she can put in her own order, which she greedily does. Her stomach rumbles at the sight of all the options, so she settles on something particularly filling, and takes her time looking at the cart to make sure Eden got enough for himself, too. Satisfied, she’s about to pass it back, but a message comes through, that Paris impulsively reads. She doesn’t mean to, it just happens, casually, glancing at the message preview and furrowing her brow as she processes it.

I do know some mastectomy reconstructive surgeons, if she’s interested in it! I’ll email you some recommendations…

Paris blinks, as the message disappears into his notifications, and she’s left staring at the time at the top of his screen.

She turns, immediately, to stare at Eden, as he scratches his nails along Tav’s scalp. “Why the f*ck are you texting people about me?”

Eden lifts his chin to rest on the top of Tav’s head, looking over at her. “Oh, did Dr. Tenebris text me?” Paris nods, and he doesn’t even seem phased, like he doesn’t care if she was snooping through his phone. “She’s my oncologist, I was asking her about mastectomy reconstruction to see who we could talk to. I couldn’t find anyone on TMC’s website.”

Paris’ nostrils flair. “Can you just… not do that, please?”

Slowly, Eden’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Just don’t do that.” She says, sort of sternly. She doesn’t mean it to be rude, but she doesn’t need him to do that for her. “I can do it myself. Just let me do this by myself.”

For a moment, Eden stares at her, and she’s worried he just genuinely doesn’t understand what she means. She’s about to explain it again, slower, but he stops her. “Paris, I sent you those end result consultations I got from TMC, right? Total mastectomy reconstructions have a ninety-eight percent success rate, and Dr. Tenebris said they have reconstruction surgeons based on referral. So, we could go to consultations at TMC and they would refer you to someone who can do the reconstruction while you’re still under, and it only takes three hours. You’d-”

“I don’t even know if I want it, okay? Can we just…” Paris sighs. “Can we drop it?”

“Drop it?” Eden repeats, staring blankly at her. “I’m sorry for being pushy, but, if we find a reconstruction surgeon, they can replace all the tissue with implants all in one surgery, so nothing will-”

“I don’t mean reconstruction.” Paris says. “I mean the mastectomy, I don’t know if I want it.”

Eden continues to stare at her, blankly, and Tav rolls over beside him, putting his back to Eden to face Paris fully, to speak directly to her. “Why not? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know.” Paris rolls her eyes, moving to her back again so she can stare up at the posters on Eden’s ceiling. “I just don’t know if I want to do it.”

“Why not?” Eden echoes Tav’s question, and Paris can feel him staring at her. “I’m not trying to be a c*nt to you, but I have no idea why the hell you wouldn’t want it.”

Paris huffs, folding her arms, decisively over her breasts. “It’s just my decision. I want to make it myself.”

“I don’t think that you should.” Eden says, and his tone is a little sharper. Paris doesn’t like being lectured. “It’s a big decision, sure, but you can’t do that alone. If you have the chance to completely prevent ever getting cancer, which, with reconstruction, means the only change to your body will be minimal, easy to hide scarring, then you need to do it now.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll get cancer. You read your own results to me so many times, Paris. It will happen, and you need to do what you can to prevent it.”

“But, why now?” Paris says, still staring up at the ceiling. “My mom was fifty, and who knows how old my grandma was, okay? Nobody gets cancer when they’re young, so I don’t know why the f*ck you want me to do it right this second.”

It’s very quiet, suddenly, until Tav hisses at her, like he’s utterly, truly shocked. “Paris.”

“What?” She turns, and they’re both staring at her. Tav’s eyes are open, trembling, and looking straight through her, but she knows he’s staring where he knows her voice is. Glaring at her as much as he can. Paris looks past him, at Eden, who’s sat up to stare at her, too, his mouth agape.

Oh. sh*t.

“Oh,” Paris waves him off. “I don’t mean you. That was different, you were in an accident, and you have lung disease that got worse over time, so obviously that’s f*cking different.”

“You met Aggie. Aggie’s cancer is genetic, and she found out about it when she was ten, and probably had it even younger than that.” Eden says, plainly again, like Paris is stupid, which makes her angrier than she already is. “And your mother was diagnosed at stage four, Paris. How on f*cking earth do you know she didn’t have it her whole life?”

“Don’t talk about my mom.” Paris says. “And, it’s my decision, Eden, okay? I’ll get to it eventually, if I decide to do it, and I’ll do it on my own.”

It’s quiet again, and Paris watches Eden shut his eyes, putting his hand to his chest to calm himself down, to focus on breathing slowly and deeply, dragging air into his lung so he won’t choke. When he speaks, he looks directly at her, right in her eyes. “If you really feel that way, and you think that Tav and I are going to sit here and watch you willingly suffer, then you can leave. You can get sick and fight it on your own, because I’m not letting you make us watch while you kill yourself.”

Paris sits up, shocked that he would be so certain about that, and she looks down at Tav, expecting him to soften the blow or try to convince her to do it. But he just pulls the rabbit up from under the blanket to shut his eyes and hold it close to his heart, pressing his nose into its matted fur.

Truthfully, Paris just hates thinking about it. She hated thinking about Eden, when he was sick, she hated thinking about her mom, when her mom was sick, and she hates thinking about her mom now that she’s dead. It’s just easier to pretend it didn’t happen, to pretend she doesn’t see the statistics and the test results and the numbers, and live blissfully unaware of her inevitable, untimely death. It’s just easier.

“I’m just…” She stares right back at Eden, who hasn’t softened. “I’m just scared, okay? I don’t like thinking about it.”

“I know, but you have to.”

“I know,” Paris sighs, holding her hand out to pet Tav’s hair, trying to stay as close to him as she can. “I know I do. I know I have to do it, it’s just… I’ve never had surgery before, and I’m freaked the hell out by the thought of it, and I don’t like to think about dying, either.”

Slowly, Eden sighs, his oxygen tank wheezing from its spot on the mattress beside him. “You know that’s why I want to take you to these consultations, right? So real doctors with real experience doing these surgeries can help you be comfortable?” Paris shakes her head, and he sighs again. “I hate having surgery. I know why you’re scared, and surgery scares the f*ck out of me, too, but they’re important. This is important. I don’t want to watch you die, Paris.”

In front of him, Tav holds out the rabbit for Paris to take, and she stares at it, confused. “You can bring Wiggles.”

Eden huffs a small, bemused sort of laugh, and relaxes, visibly, his features softening. “Yeah, you can take Wiggles.”

Paris takes it, her brow furrowed. “Okay.”

“Hospitals give sick kids stuffed animals.” Eden says, smiling down at the rabbit like it means the world to him. “I had surgery a few times, as a toddler, to correct burn scars and sh*t, and they gave me this weird little bear to hold onto when I would wait to go under. I lost it, obviously, I was like, three. Then, I had my first internal operation when I was nine, and I was really scared, and my mom made me Wiggles, so I didn’t have to go alone. He has been with me for literally every surgery I’ve had since I got him, they put him in a little sterile bag and set him up to watch. He watched them take out my lung.”

Paris stares down at it. It’s creepy, but she didn’t know his mom made it by hand. She feels bad for being so mean to Wiggles before.

“He can watch you. too. He’s like a doctor himself, he’s watched so many surgeries. I’ve had twenty-nine, overall.”

Twenty-nine. Paris didn’t go to the hospital as frequently as her parents did to sit with Eden’s mom when they were younger, but she’s heard him talk about it enough now to be thoroughly horrified by the thought of it. Twenty-nine total surgeries, many of which were back-to-back, close together, making Eden spend weeks and months in the hospital to recover, only to inevitably need another surgery and start over again. When it was bad, he had seven consecutively, in five months. Lengthy, horrible operations that take hours upon hours. And those are just the surgeries. She can barely imagine how long he spent in the hospital for chemotherapy and observations.

Realistically, Paris can have just one operation, that lasts three hours, and she can go home the next day. She can prevent herself from ever getting that bad, from ever needing to worry about it again, the way he had to, his entire life, and she knows that makes Eden angry with her. She doesn’t blame him at all, if she had so many surgeries and treatment plans and medical torture just for some random bitch who might get breast cancer someday to whine about not wanting one surgery, she’d be mad, too.

“Will you go with me?” She looks up at Eden, lifting her gaze from Wiggles in her hands. “If we do a consultation?”

“Babe, I’m not letting you do any of that sh*t by yourself.” Eden says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Paris smiles. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you.” Eden smiles back at her. “But, when I’m scared, I need to be pushed, too.”

Nodding, Paris lays back down, holding onto Wiggles and taking Eden’s phone again so she can finally pay for their food.

The day before the sleepover, Paris tries to slack off for most of the day, before driving Tav and Eden home, popping a quick nap on their couch, and driving all the way back to the museum, parking her car up at the front and staring up at the front building, trying to remind herself why the f*ck she agreed to do this in the first place.

Aggie is going to be here. She thinks to herself, glancing around at the empty parking lot. TJ seems to be staying later than normal, and some of the later zipline crew are all filing out for the night, so she climbs out of her car to stretch out her legs. She yawns, and stretches as another car pulls up beside her, before opening her back door to grab her overnight bag. She didn’t think she’d need much, after asking Pixel about what to expect, but she brought some snacks, a change of clothes, and her toothbrush. She even brought a blanket, in case she gets cold. Paris checks through it, just to make sure she remembered her phone charger, before she can see Pixel in the reflection of her tinted windows.

She turns, watching with wide eyes as Pixel sucks face with her boyfriend, sitting square in their lap as the car rocks around them. Paris used to work with Pixel’s boyfriend, and they’re pretty quiet and very nice, so watching this is… weird, to say the least. She quickly turns away and walks up towards the sidewalk to wait for Pixel.

It’s a little while, and Faith even drives up and gets out of her own car, giving Pixel a disgusted sort of once over before walking towards Paris, rolling her eyes. Paris snorts, and they watch together as Pixel struggles to climb out of the car, flattening her long skirt and yanking a bag out of her backseat, before leaning over the driver’s side door to kiss Oz again.

“Bye, Daddy,” She says, loud enough for people on the other side of the f*cking planet to hear. “I’ll miss you so much, I love you.”

Oz replies, but thankfully, Paris can’t hear them, too.

Pixel jogs up to join them when Oz drives off, her big boots stomping in the dirt. She pauses, putting her hand on Paris’ shoulder to use her other hand to shamelessly dig her panties out of her ass, before thanking Paris with a polite pat on her bicep. “You girls are excited for today, aren’t you? We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

Paris doesn’t want to answer, but Faith doesn’t seem to either, so Paris just sighs and nods. “Yeah, Pixel. This will be fun.”

“I made us some snacks,” Pixel whispers, skipping now, across the sidewalk towards the museum. “And I got everyone a special energy drink. And we’re going to make s’mores!” She giggles, clapping her hands together. “I’m gonna go clock us all in if you wanna drop your stuff off in the main room, so then we can get the entrance set up all cutely for when the scouts arrive!”

“Okay,” Paris says, holding open the door for her while she bounds in to talk to TJ.

He’s sitting in the conference room, flipping through some paperwork next to a large man Paris has never seen before, leaning a little close to TJ’s shoulder. TJ looks tired, of course, after being here all day, and the man beside him pats a protective hand on TJ’s forearm to comfort him.

“Hi, TJ!” Pixel says, hopping over to wave at him. She straightens at the sight of the other man, and puts her hand to her forehead, saluting him. “Meow, meow, meow, meow.”

The man huffs a laugh, and raises his hand back to her. “Meow.”

She giggles, and skips to the back of the room so she can go clock them all in. Paris exchanges a glance with Faith, and TJ watches them for a second, before he realizes their confusion. “Oh, this is Skia,” He says, gesturing to the man beside him, who waves tattooed fingers at them. Unlike TJ, a very clean looking man with well kept hair and lean limbs, Skia is massive, and he looks dirty. Paris shifts, sort of awkwardly. “He works at night, so I normally have him sit up here when we’ve got the girl scouts in. I just don’t want Pixel here by herself with no security.” Skia just nods, standing when TJ does. “Do you need anything before I head out of here? The troop should be pulling up soon.”

“No, thank you.” Faith replies, still eyeing Skia warily. “Are you coming back in the morning?”

“Yep, bright and early.” TJ smiles. “I’ll relieve you guys around seven. Good luck.” He pauses, dipping his head while Skia whispers something in his ear, his hand on TJ’s lower back. TJ gasps a little and smacks Skia’s hand away, chuckling, and he wishes them all a goodnight.

Skia doesn’t say much, afterwards, so Paris and Faith head off towards the discovery rooms, to drop off their sh*t and start getting ready for the night. Paris wonders, while they’re opening doors and turning on lights, where Aggie could be, if TJ is already gone. Faith trips over one of the sleeping bags that Pixel set up yesterday, and Paris just sighs and tries to put it all back in order, fluffing up the pillows and stuffed animals and straightening out the bag itself.

By the time she’s done, Faith has wandered outside, and honestly, as the sun starts to set, Paris feels a little creeped out being here so late by herself, so she scrambles to catch up, jogging a little before she slows by the museum’s center stage. Faith is already down there, digging through a cooler of drinks while Pixel stands on the stage itself, pointing down at the fire as Skia builds it, instructing him to make it higher and more dangerous, to which he stops and stares at her until she apologizes.

Paris can see the back of Aggie’s head, slouched on one of the little benches.

Heart pounding, Paris walks calmly over to sit beside her.

Aggie turns to look at her, smiling with crooked teeth, before dropping to grab something from the dirt between her spread feet. She holds it out, a girly, pink looking energy drink. “That’s from the cat girl.”

“Oh, thank you.” Paris smiles, pulling the tab quietly so she can take a sip of it, but Aggie holds up her own drink, a Monster, that Paris would honestly prefer to have, so she clinks her can against Aggie’s, and they drink together. It tastes disgusting, so Paris tries her hardest not to gag.

“What do you think our odds are of getting mauled by a bear tonight?” Aggie asks, balancing her elbows on her open knees to let her drink dangle loosely from her fingers.

Paris snorts, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back against the bench to seem as effortlessly cool as Aggie is. “You don’t think he could take a bear?” She tips her drink towards Skia, effortlessly dropping another big log in the fire pit.

“Well,” Aggie sighs. “I know I’m not fighting a bear. And no offense to you, but you’re kind of…”

“What?” Paris laughs.

“Prissy.”

“I am not prissy.” Paris kicks her boot into Aggie’s calf. “Take that back.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna fight the bear?”

“There’s no bear!” Paris laughs again, shaking her head. “And Blake is out there sleeping, he wouldn’t ever leave his enclosure.”

Aggie chuckles, looking out over the fire. “Okay, hypothetical for you.”

“Oh God,” Paris smiles, following her gaze. “Go ahead.”

“All of us, the girl scouts, and their parents. Zombie apocalypse.” Aggie glances back at Paris, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “All the girl scouts have been infected, and now they’re fast, hungry, twelve-year-old zombies. Who’s leading us?”

Paris whistles through her teeth, looking around at the others. “Faith.”

“Is that the cat girl?”

“No, the other one,” Paris chuckles, pointing over at Faith, struggling to open a can of co*ke with her long acrylics. “Skia’s too quiet and Pixel’s too scattery.”

“Scattery?” Aggie asks, and Paris gestures at her own head, waggling her fingers. Snorting, Aggie waves her hand between them. “Well, what about us? Or me?”

“Hmm,” Paris makes a show of tapping her chin. “I’m too prissy.” Aggie smacks her leg, playfully. “And… I don’t know,” Paris drops her can to the bench between them, and reaches her hand out tentatively, to place her palm against Aggie’s bicep. Grinning, Aggie sits up to make a show of flexing, so Paris can squeeze her arm fully, surprised by how strong she feels. “Yeah, you can lead us.”

“Erhh,” Aggie sits back to cover her hand with her mouth, imitating a very loud, very wrong sounding buzzer. “You’re a f*cking zombie now. Congratulations.”

“What?” Paris giggles a little, sitting back against the bench. “Why? What happened?”

“You didn’t even ask me anything about the virus or how it spread.”

“Fine, how did it spread?”

“Bloodborne pathogens, bitch. Guess who you just elected your leader?” Aggie laughs, and sticks her pointer finger up to her own chest. “The only motherf*cker here with an immune system disease. You just got cancered.”

Paris laughs, smacking her arm. “Oh, shut up, you’re in remission.”

Aggie smiles, her eyes glancing down at Paris’ hand, still on her arm. “It’s a zombie apocalypse, and my body is soggy from all the chemo. If there’s an outbreak, I’m a goner. And when I’m a zombie, I’m biting you first.”

Paris rolls her eyes, parting her lips to ask if she can change her answer, but Pixel sort of claps her hands together, before waving her arms to ask if everyone is ready to set up. Aggie bows in her seat, dismissing her, and Paris pushes off the bench to flick her off behind her back, so Pixel won’t see.

The last few minutes before the troop is scheduled to arrive, they spend opening the front doors and putting out little signs welcoming them in. Pixel has been working on this for a few days, it seems, because each sign is handmade and colorful, decorated with jewels and stickers and drawings. Paris has to let Pixel and Faith hang the banners, since she can’t reach, and she follows quietly behind Pixel as she marches out front to welcome the girl scouts.

They reconvene at the campfire, where Paris can see that Aggie has, thankfully, thrown out Paris’ nasty drink. She waits off to the side, by Skia, while the girl scouts giggle and sit up by the fire while their moms sit in the row behind them. There’s only about ten girls, so it’s actually sort of a smaller group that Paris was expecting. Pixel makes her get up on stage, so she can welcome them all and introduce everybody, and talk a little bit about the troop leader before she comes up on stage, too.

Paris guesses that she and Pixel must be friends, because they hug briefly before she addresses her troop, and gets into the agenda for the night.

For the first hour, Paris does really just get to f*ck off and do nothing, like Cosmo suggested. The girls, and a few appointed parents, follow Aggie on a tour of the museum, while Pixel opens up the coolers to offer drinks to all the remaining parents. Skia stays near the fire, and Pixel asks Faith to hang out front and wait for Aggie to come back with the scouts, so Paris stays with her to show the parents where the kids are staying.

From hearing Pixel explain it, Paris starts to understand that these sleepovers are actual camps, normally, where she sets up individual tents and everyone sleeps outdoors. But, because of the chilly weather, she’s set them up in the bird room for tonight, where the girls can lay facing the glass to get a taste of nature in the comfort of the indoor heater. The parents seem to love it, and they especially love that she’s set up individual little air mattresses for everyone, even the parents, on the other side of the room, so they can stay near their children.

Paris is actually impressed by how much f*cking work Pixel puts into this. There are some days where she starts to question how someone so carefree and silly is in a supervisor position at all, but Pixel really, deeply cares about her work and puts so much effort into it, and it shows. She wonders if Pixel’s boisterous personality and her attention to detail on sleepovers like this make the museum a lot of money.

Aggie brings the girls back down to the camp, so they all gather back there for the performances, which Paris has no earthly idea what that could be. She was never into girl scouts, aside from begging her mom to buy cookies outside of Walmart, so all of this sh*t is sort of new to her.

She gets to sit quietly beside Aggie again, and watch while Pixel lets the troop leader take over, to pass out scripts and let the scouts perform their own little skits up on stage. Her body trembles, in the cold evening air, and she bounces her knees to keep warm, so focused on watching the kids acting on stage that she doesn’t notice Aggie shifting beside her, moving in Paris’ peripheral vision.

Something covers her shoulders, and she startles, looking up at Aggie, who just smiles and drops her hoodie the rest of the way, so Paris can grab onto it and pull it tighter around herself. She worries that maybe Aggie will be cold, too, but she has a thick looking sweater on underneath her uniform shirt. The cold makes them inch closer together, until their thighs and shoulders are pressed against each other, and Aggie’s radiating warmth is filling Paris up, bleeding through her veins and warming her up entirely.

After a while, she’s not really watching the performances at all, seated pleasantly in the back row and huddled close to Aggie, nearly in her lap. They stare at each other for a while, as a girl somewhere on stage strums a little ukulele, and Paris can see the little flecks of gold in Aggie’s brown eyes, even in the low light of the evening.

She is unbelievably beautiful up close, soft-jawed and sleepy-eyed, with yellowed, crooked teeth and a charming little smile. Paris wants to reach for her, instinctively, like it's second nature. She wants to place her palm on Aggie’s smooth jaw and pull her closer, and she wants to believe it’s just to stay warm, but Aggie’s eyes flick downward, at Paris’ lips, and that is all Paris needs to know.

She thought that, after their last time alone, out in Eden’s garden, holding hands and wandering through the rows of plant life, that she had f*cked it all up. She thought that she had a chance that night, to kiss Aggie, and kickstart something like a beautiful relationship, something perfect and warm, just like how she feels now, and she thought she ruined it. Paris thought, for a while now, that maybe she misread the signals. Maybe she was overthinking something that meant nothing to Aggie, but Aggie still wants to kiss her. They’re sitting together, cold, in an audience for a little concert of child actors, and Aggie still wants to kiss her.

Paris can feel herself trembling again, from excitement, and she leans a little closer, instinctively, her lower lip parted from the top ever so slightly.

But Aggie doesn’t move.

Applause from the parents startles her out of it, and Paris jumps, sitting forward again, putting her hands dutifully in her lap. Aggie looks away, too, at the ground between her knees, and Paris swallows, her mind racing as the troop leader hops back on stage to introduce the next skit.

Paris knows, logically, this is not the place for it. They are at work, they are right behind a group of children and their parents. Paris’ boss is standing ten feet away, cheering louder than the others. Of course, they shouldn’t kiss here, but she wants to. A part of her is sort of upset about the idea that Aggie doesn’t.

“When we were at Eden’s house,” She whispers, keeping her gaze fixed fully on the stage. “In the garden,” Swallowing again, she tries very hard to keep her voice low when she asks. “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Aggie doesn’t answer, and Paris glances at her, watching Aggie’s wide eyes stare intensely out at the stage.

“I thought…” Paris sighs, wringing her hands together in her lap, beneath the warm shield of Aggie’s hoodie over her shoulders. “I thought maybe you would be mad at me for not kissing you, because I had to check on dinner, and then Eden and Tav were there, and it was awkward. And I just… Am I wrong?” She turns her head, angling it towards Aggie to get a better look at her expression. “You can tell me if I’m wrong, I’m not going to push anything if you don’t like me, but I just… I don’t know. I thought you might kiss me.”

The skit gets a little quiet, and Paris watches painfully until it’s loud enough again for Aggie to whisper back, so no one will hear them. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Oh.

“I wanted to kiss you, I didn’t know I lost my chance until it was gone. I should have kissed you.”

Paris exhales, a long, slow breath she didn’t know she was holding in, and reaches for Aggie’s hand, entwining their fingers in Aggie’s lap. “I should have kissed you, too.”

Aggie exhales, too, whistling. “Thank God. You have no idea how much I’ve been kicking myself about that.”

“I might have some idea,” Paris mumbles, glancing down at their hands. “I’ve never, um… kissed a girl before. So…”

“Oh,” Aggie says, nodding a little. “Well, neither have I, so don’t worry about that.”

“I’d say you could kiss me here, but uh,” Paris looks up at her, glancing briefly down at the kids who squeal with laughter. “Something might be off, I’m not sure what.”

Aggie snorts, shaking her head. “Not here. I think I want to make sure your first kiss is special.”

It’s a very insignificant, no big deal sort of sentence, but it means the world to Paris.

She’s had a hard time dating before, or even just talking to other queer women, because the concept of her being with a man is a tough one to understand. She’s met a few assholes, here and there, who want Paris to believe she’s not queer enough, or want to ask how she even knows she would like a woman at all if she’s only ever been with men. Her own father even had questions about it, intrusive, awkward questions that Paris hated answering, and explaining herself and her sexuality again and again and again is so f*cking tiring, and it makes the idea of dating anyone feel really daunting.

But Aggie doesn’t give a sh*t about all of that, they just like each other. She makes Paris’ heart pound loud in her ears, louder even than the rumble of little shoes stomping with applause below them.

“Maybe I can cook for you again,” Paris says, running her thumb over the back of Aggie’s hand. “Just us.”

“I’d love that,” Aggie grins, before raising a mischievous sort of eyebrow, like she’s had an idea. “I know, uh, Pixel said she set up beds for us to take shifts sleeping up there,” She nods towards the discovery room. “What do you think are the odds we get to sleep at the same time?”

Paris purses her lips, trying to think. “Well, I know Pixel’s gonna be up all night. She is actively pounding a Fun Dip down there.” Aggie snorts, turning to watch as Pixel rips open another packet and throws her head back to dump all the powder into her mouth and chew it while she claps for the kids on stage. “So, if she and Faith are watching the kids, I’d say our odds are pretty good.”

“Cool,” Aggie nods, a few times, turning back as if looking away from Pixel is physically very challenging for her, like a car crash she can’t take her eyes off of. “Think she’d be mad if we ditched?”

“Maybe,” Paris whispers, though she knows that’s not true. Pixel is so obsessively into this sleepover, that Paris doesn’t doubt she begged to do everything by herself, only for TJ to assign the others to come with her. Truthfully, Paris could just be straight up with her, and ask if she can go far into the depths of the museum at night to fool around with a tall butch who wants to kiss her, and Pixel would tell her to go. She’d just be happy to be in on the gossip of it all.

Plus Paris has had to bear witness to Pixel gagging on Oz’s tongue so many times now, that it’s only fair Pixel gives her a pass now.

“I could ask. Where would you take me?” Paris asks, sweetly, inching closer so their knees brush.

Aggie shrugs, as if she hasn’t thought a lot about this, but Paris can tell that she has. “Maybe it’s a surprise.”

“Well,” Paris grins. “Maybe I’ll ask Pixel, then.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will.”

Again, the applause draws them out of it, and Paris giggles while Aggie rolls her eyes and moves forward, releasing Paris’ hand to clap obnoxiously loudly, so Paris does the same.

Like Paris suspected, when they’ve eaten a few s’mores and gotten the kids up in their sleeping bags, the troop leader sitting up on the bench while the parents all settle in their own little beds, Pixel comes to Paris first, waving her hands for the museum team to gather up outside, under the awning above the discovery room’s turtle pond.

“Okay team,” She points, gesturing around to designate some roles to everyone. “There is no way I am sleeping, I had a nap earlier, and I’m f*cked up on sugar right now, and my daddy is at home, awake, with a phone in their hand, ready to text me. So I’ll be sitting-” She points over towards a plush little recliner, obviously made for children, right inside the door of the main room, beneath the big tree in the center. “-right there for the remainder of the night. I’m gonna text my boyfriend, and sit with my little baby alligator, and I really, genuinely, do not give a f*ck what any of you do. Except Skia, whom I have an agreement with.”

Paris looks over at him, and he nods, holding out a little thumbs up and walks off back towards the fire pit.

“You can sleep, you can hang out, watch a movie, I don’t care.” Pixel says, grinning. “Just, you know, don’t like, do sh*t that’s bad, you know? No drugs.” She points at Faith, who rolls her eyes and pushes into the discovery room, to flop over onto her mattress and pull a blanket up over her head.

Pixel enters behind her, to crawl under the tree and sit up inside its trunk, and Paris looks over at Aggie, who blinks. “That was surprisingly less complicated than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah…” Paris purses her lips, looking around at the quiet night around them. The museum is closed, the girl scouts are sleeping, and they can do whatever they want. “I’m gonna get my bag.”

“Sick, I’m making another s’more.”

Paris steps inside to get her bag, set on top of the little mattress Pixel set up for her. She pulls out a few things she probably doesn’t need, like her clothes, and her charger, tucking them under her mattress and getting back up to duck down and see Pixel, typing furiously on her phone in the tree. “I love you, right now. Just so you know.”

Pixel looks up, and she smiles. “Oh! I love you, too, Paris!” Like she normally does, Pixel drags out the last syllable of her name, in the most obnoxious and terrible French accent she can muster. “Aggie is cute, huh?”

“God,” Paris clenches her fist against the plastic bark of the tree. “You have no idea.”

“Well, don’t get her pregnant,” Pixel snickers, and Paris just shakes her head. “But, have fun anyway!”

Paris stands upright and pushes the doors open again to step outside, smiling to herself when she spots Aggie vigorously trying to wipe melted marshmallow off of her chin.

For a while, they just walk around the museum together, holding hands when they’re far enough away from the fire pit. It’s cold, of course, but Aggie’s hand is warm, and Paris just follows blindly as they walk, slow and careful, through the path of statues leading out to the water, where they can walk on the dock. The world darkens, but the sky is clear, and the crescent shaped moon reflects on the water, rippling gently under the dock, quietly splashing against the wooden support beams.

Aggie pauses, in a spot way in the back, where the trees clear enough for the moon to provide enough light to be able to see, and she gestures behind her, towards the enclosure nearby. “What a coincidence, I seem to recall there being a bear out here.”

“Hah,” Paris rolls her eyes, dropping Aggie’s hand to sit on the L-shaped bench in the corner, where the dock overlooks the water. It’s a nice night, despite the chill, and Paris sets her bag carefully beside her, looking up at Aggie as she stretches her arms out, leaning back against the railing, opposite the bench.

“So.” Aggie says, smiling, and Paris chuckles.

“So,” She repeats, folding her hands together. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Jesus, don’t rub it in,” Aggie laughs, dropping her elbows on the railing so she can cross one leg over the other.

“I’m not,” Paris taps her sneaker on the dock’s old wood, a few times, thinking. “I was just wondering why not.”

Aggie whistles. “Do you think I’ve got game, or something? Have you met me?”

“Yeah,” Paris nods. “I have. I was just surprised because you’re so beautiful. It’s hard to imagine anyone not looking up at you and wishing you would kiss them the way I do.”

Softly, Aggie smiles, nervously looking away. “Well, it’s hard for me to imagine you can’t tell that I’m shy.”

“Are you shy?” Paris raises an eyebrow. “I don’t get that vibe from you.”

“Well, I don’t know if you knew this,” Aggie pushes up from the railing, snapping her fingers as she swings her arms back and forth, still visibly nervous. Paris thinks it’s cute. “But, the whole, uh, having cancer thing makes it hard to date.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, it does.” Aggie sits on the bench, on the other side of it, facing Paris. “I’ve been in and out of treatment for a long time. This is my second job, ever, and my last job I only had for a few months, before I lost it, because I have cancer. I only know other cancer patients. And, I don’t know if you knew this, but when you go through chemo, you can’t like, share fluids, so I couldn’t even kiss other cancer patients even if I wanted to.”

Paris furrows her brow at that, but she doesn’t dwell on it. “You know, it’s funny that you say having cancer makes dating hard for you, but we both happen to know a cancer patient who’s married.”

“Yeah, married,” Aggie snorts. “They got married like a month after they met. That's not dating.” She pauses, looking out at the water. “Well, what about you, why haven’t you kissed any girls?”

Slowly, Paris sighs. “I thought I was straight. I didn’t come out until a few years ago, and then my mom got sick, so… I guess cancer made dating hard for me, too.”

Aggie holds her hand out, palm up, and Paris takes it, greedily, and Aggie smiles. It’s a somber sort of look, that Paris doesn’t particularly understand.

“Sorry about your mom.” She says, eventually, and Paris nods.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about your parents, too.”

They watch each other for a second, and Aggie presses further, but Paris doesn’t mind. She likes it. She likes that Aggie is interested enough to ask her questions. “Is your dad still alive?”

“Yeah.” Paris taps her free fingers against Aggie’s wrist, looking down at her lap. “He’s an underwater welder.”

“What the f*ck is an underwater welder?”

“I don’t know, he works on a boat or something.” Paris shrugs. “I don’t see him much.”

“I don’t see my dad much either.” Aggie says, and Paris scrunches her nose when she gets the joke, and looks up to see Aggie grinning. “Sorry, sorry. If we’re gonna date, we gotta get the dead parent jokes out early.”

Paris drags her fingers up Aggie’s sweater sleeve, feeling the strength of her arm again. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Could be. This will surprise you,” Aggie says, beaming, as if she’s proud. “I’ve never dated anyone either.” She pauses, tapping her chin. “Actually, that's not true. I’m sorry for lying. I have been on two total dates in my entire life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this is date number two.” She sighs, like she’s ashamed, and shakes her head, shutting her eyes. “My first date, ever, the only person I have ever been on a date with, besides you, was Eden.”

Paris blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I know,” Aggie laughs, shaking her head again. “God, it’s so ridiculous. I was thirteen, and we sat in Barnaby’s at a table by ourselves while his mom and my uncle sat on the other side of the room and talked about how sad it was that their kids were going to f*cking die.” She laughs, still, like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Obviously, our breakup was horrifically traumatic and painful.”

“Please, God, tell me every detail.” Paris pretends to beg, and Aggie rolls her eyes, playfully.

“We were coloring, in group, the next time we saw each other, some stupid ass assignment that was like, assigning colors and emotions to parts of the body, which by the way, my body f*cking hurt, so I used a red crayon.” Paris laughs with her, and she continues. “And I looked up at him, bald and veiny and sick, and I said, ‘Are you my boyfriend?’ And he looked up at me, equally bald, equally veiny, equally sick, and he took a puff of his inhaler, and he said, ‘Ew.’”

The laugh that escapes Paris’ chest is too loud, and she forces herself to stay quiet, shaking her head and waving her hand to cool off her face so she won’t turn red. “God, he’s so gay.”

“So gay,” Aggie repeats, giggling between words. “I hope you’re pleased to know I’m also a later-in-life-lesbian, as per my outrageously meaningful, long term relationship with a fourteen-year-old twink.”

“I can’t believe that, actually.” Paris waves her hand around, trying to stop laughing. “I mean, I can. It’s just so…”

“Scandalous?” Aggie waggles her eyebrows. “I wore red to his wedding.”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Paris giggles, having to shut her eyes to keep herself quiet.

For a while, they just kind of talk, laughing together and talking about their lives. Paris tries to steer clear of any serious questions about Aggie’s battle with cancer, or the loss of her parents, and she can tell that Aggie does the same. Aside from a few jokes, Paris can tell pretty quickly that Aggie doesn’t particularly like talking about how sick she was, or how miserable it made her. Paris knows enough about it, from the things she described when Paris sat near her in group therapy.

Paris does talk about some of her previous boyfriends. Like Aggie’s prominent, lengthy dating history, Paris has only dated a few people, when she was young, and nobody as an adult. It’s nice to have found more in common with Aggie, even though Paris already felt like they had a lot in common, anyway.

She tells Aggie about Felix, instead of talking about her parents, and Aggie talks about Silas, her own older brother. Again, another thing in common. She asks if Aggie sees him much, and Aggie changes the subject.

“I want to take you somewhere,” She says, pushing up out of her seat and holding out her hand, and Paris hurries to grab her bag and follow along.

They walk for a while, up towards Old Florida, where Paris learns is where Aggie normally works. When she doesn’t have specific tours to give, TJ has her hang around back here to talk to people about the old buildings, and dust the exhibits, and pull weeds in the graveyard. Paris didn’t even know there was a graveyard, and it’s getting fairly dark, so Aggie brings her into the old church so she can dig around in a closet at the back.

Paris stands, sort of awkwardly, in the dark, fairly frightened by the idea of being in an old church at night, nearly alone, but Aggie returns with a big flashlight, and a grin on her face.

She takes Paris’ hand again to walk her outside, between the church and the little schoolhouse, down a hidden path into the back. There are real graves here that Aggie flashes the light at, so Paris can see the etched, dirty tombstones.

“They’re too old for me to pressure wash,” Aggie says, reaching down to wipe some dirt away from some of the letters so Paris can read what it says. “But I’m trying to clean them up.”

“Why?” Paris asks, genuinely curious, and Aggie smiles.

“I want people to be able to read my tombstone, when I die. To look at it, and remember me. I never met any of these people, and a part of me thinks they’re fake, and these are all made up to go along with the creepy church, but I remember their names.” Aggie shrugs, and she sets the flashlight on top of one of the tombstones, reaching a hand out to brush some hair off of Paris’ forehead. “That’s probably silly, but I don’t know. I haven’t really done much, in my life, nothing like, groundbreaking or cool enough to remember. But I was ready to die years ago, and I just wished people would see my tombstone and know that my life was important, even if it was short, and they would remember it.”

“I don’t think that’s silly,” Paris mumbles, leaning into Aggie’s hand, which hasn’t left her cheek. “I think that everyone’s life is or was important, and it’s really sweet of you to clean these up anyway, even if there’s a chance they’re not real.”

“Do you want to dig them up?” Aggie smirks. “We could check.”

“No, thank you,” Paris reaches for Aggie’s hands, entwining their fingers on either side of her hips, pulling Aggie a little closer. “We can’t risk the apocalypse, you’d get infected. Bloodborne pathogens.”

“Exactly,” Aggie squeezes her palms, and suddenly, they’re closer, still, bodies nearly pressed up against each other. “That was a trick question. Good girl.”

Paris nearly wonders if this is it, but Aggie doesn’t give her a chance to even question it, pulling Paris closer and leaning down to kiss her, soft lips pressed against Paris’ own. God, the feeling of Aggie pressed up against her like this, her big hands, and the soft, delicate, tentative brush of her lips is everything Paris could have ever dreamed of. She’s spent weeks worrying herself near to tears about not kissing Aggie when she should have, but she’s glad she didn’t.

Aggie said before, that she wanted to make sure their first kiss was special, and this certainly is. Standing in a graveyard behind an old church in a museum in the middle of the night, shadows dancing along the white wood of the church’s exterior is beyond anything Paris could think up on her own.

She sighs, pleasantly, when their lips separate, and Aggie drops her hands, moving them to Paris’ shoulders to really get a good look at her.

“Do you want to see the pit?” Aggie asks, seriously, like she genuinely means it.

Rattled, Paris can do nothing but nod, following along as Aggie scoops up the flashlight and drags her out behind the buildings, where the trees block out the moonlight nearly entirely. Paris stumbles a few times, her free hand raised to cover her tingling lips, slowing to a halt when Aggie does, shining her flashlight down into an open pit. Maybe it was a sinkhole, or a pond that dried up, a dig site that never got filled in, but it’s filled with leaves, and rocks, and surrounded by trees. But, if anything, it is a pit. Aggie moves the flashlight around showing it off, before she passes the flashlight to Paris.

“Cool pit.” Paris says, confused when Aggie cracks her neck, and stretches her arms out, shaking out her hands before squatting a little, turning so her back is towards Paris. Blinking, Paris shines the flashlight on her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna carry you down there.”

“What?”

“You can hold the flashlight,” Aggie says, backing up a little. “Come on, hop up there.” She looks over her shoulder when Paris doesn’t. “Dude, you’re tiny, I’m not letting you walk down all those rocks. Just hop on and shine the flashlight on the ground.”

Paris thinks maybe she’s still rattled from their kiss, but she does it, getting close to Aggie’s back and laughing when she wraps her hands under each of Paris’s thighs and hoists her up on her back. Paris tries to point the flashlight so Aggie can see, while holding tightly onto her neck, and for a little while, it works out, actually, trying to help Aggie stay balanced while she carries Paris into the pit.

Of course, it’s dark, and Aggie steps on a root, and she slips. They tumble together, down the hill, into the pit, limbs entangling.

Paris can feel her knees getting scuffed beneath her jeans, possibly ripping a hole through the fabric, and she lands face first in the dirt, Aggie right behind her. Aggie groans, long and loud, landing with an audible thud and rolling hard into Paris’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Paris says, trying to push up on her hands to find the flashlight. “I’m so sorry, God, I don’t know what I- I’m so sorry, I-”

“Shh,” Aggie is laughing now, her dirty hands reaching up for Paris’ waist, pulling her back to lay up against her chest. Paris’ knees throb with pain, but laying against Aggie makes it hurt a little less. “Are you okay?” Aggie mumbles, reaching a hand up to drag her fingers over Paris’ lips.

“Mhm,” Paris nods, fervently, and kisses her, hard and pressing.

This is different from just a few minutes ago. They’re past the soft, gentle, brush of their first kiss, and now Paris feels hungry for her, like she has to taste inside her mouth. Like Aggie picking her up and promptly dropping her into a pit in the middle of the woods is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for her. She kisses Aggie roughly, deep, moving her jaw quickly and parting her lips, prodding her tongue past Aggie’s teeth, desperate for her, like she’s never been kissed before.

Technically, they’ve both already had their first kiss, so now they can do whatever they want. Paris gasps a little when Aggie’s hands roam, slowly up her sides, down her back. She lets her own hands slide down Aggie’s chest, down her biceps, then back up in her hair, threading her fingers through the thin strands and just feeling her. She rolls a little, until her knees are fully straddling Aggie’s hips, and she sits up, despite the burn in her open cuts. Aggie follows, guiding her hands up under Paris’ shirt, warm palms against the bare skin of Paris’ ticklish sides is almost too much for her, but Paris likes it anyway. She likes that Aggie wants to touch her, that they’re here, they’re together.

She can feel, in the way she kisses, that Aggie has never done this before, but that’s okay. Paris likes that, too.

Aggie hesitates, her lips freezing, and Paris pulls back a little, confused. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” It’s dark, but Paris’ eyes are adjusting, the glow from the flashlight somewhere far off, rolled further in the pit than they did. Aggie’s hands squeeze a little, at Paris’ ribs, making her shiver. “Is this okay?”

Paris nods, and kisses her again, and Aggie still hesitates, so she sits up again. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Aggie drags her lower lip in through her teeth, sliding her hands a little further up, brushing the band of Paris’ bra.

Oh.

Paris swallows, and nods, again, but Aggie still hesitates. “I want to make sure.”

“I’m sure.” Paris says, certain of it.

It is unbelievable, that someone could be so gentle with her, and her weird, f*cked up, complicated situation right now. Aggie isn’t really asking if what she’s doing is okay. She’s asking if Paris is comfortable with Aggie touching her, if she really, genuinely wants it. She’s being considerate of the prospect of Paris’ mastectomy, and that’s sweet.

Quickly, Paris sort of curses herself for not being more considerate of Aggie’s own f*cked up, complicated cancer story. “This is okay for you? You want to?”

“f*ck, yeah,” Aggie laughs, blinking, and nodding, leaves in her hair. “Yeah. I want you.”

Paris’ cheeks flush, and she nods again, leaning into kiss Aggie’s lips again. Gentle, at first, then quicker, her tongue sliding against Aggie’s as her hands settle softly on Paris’ tit*. She’s hesitant, at first, and Paris breaks their kiss again to nod, making sure Aggie can see, so she can know how okay it is and how badly she wants Aggie to just f*cking touch her.

She’s rougher, more genuine with her squeezing hands, until Paris’ bra is too in the way, and she sits up again, back on her haunches. There’s little thought behind it, not a single second to reconsider, or remember the temperature of the air before Paris pulls her uniform shirt off, along with her undershirt, lifting it up over her head and tossing it God knows where in this darkness.

“Jesus,” Aggie murmurs, and Paris is sort of insulted that Aggie looks away from her, but she throws her arm out, patting the leaves to her left before she reaches the flashlight, dropping it up near her head so she can see, so she can sit back and watch as Paris reaches behind her back. Her chest heaves, and she unclasps her bra, tossing it like everything else, and Aggie’s hands on her bare skin threaten to melt away every ounce of whatever dignity Paris had left.

Paris is not sure how long they’re down there for. It could be hours, or just a few minutes, but she savors every second of it. From the warmth of Aggie’s palms to the taste of her spit, to the sight of her own chest, as she lifts her own shirt to toss off somewhere behind her, Paris loves every f*cking second. Her fingers tremble, and her heart races, and she has never felt so alive and so certain of anything.

What she feels for Aggie, this comfort, this deep, intimate attraction and this overwhelming trust, a crush, or a first love, whatever the hell it is, it feels incredible. Paris doesn’t think about anything that’s wrong, anything that hurts, anything she’s scared of. She’s here, and so is Aggie, and at least for this time they have to share together, right in this moment, Paris isn’t worried about a f*cking thing.

When they return to the discovery rooms, they are half dressed. Paris’ knees are bloody and Aggie’s side is swollen, likely to bruise up the length of her torso. Aggie picks leaves out of her hair, and Paris keeps her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her fingers entwined with Aggie’s, squeezing tightly against her palm.

Sometime later, Paris has a girlfriend.

Dating life is so much simpler than Paris thought it would be. Aggie is an incredibly low maintenance type of person, who makes it very clear with Paris, time and time again, that all she wants is to spend time together. Paris doesn’t have to do mental gymnastics to figure her out or guess what she wants or needs, Aggie is upfront with her about it. She just wants to spend time together. And, God does Paris love spending time with her.

She gets to stay the night, sometimes, in Aggie’s little apartment she shares with her brother. It’s quiet and cluttered, and Aggie’s bedroom is packed with old medical equipment and remnants of her battle with cancer that she hasn’t gotten rid of, but Paris doesn’t mind. She’s happy to ignore the sight of old medication bottles stacked on the nightstand, and curl up in bed beside her girlfriend and shut her eyes, willingly blind to anything worth raising an eyebrow at.

Some nights, she brings Aggie to her house, where Aggie asks about Paris’ family and their absence in more depth than she has before. Not to demand information, Paris can tell, but to get to know Paris, truthfully. She tries to be open about it, but she lies about where she sleeps. She lets Aggie believe Paris is a normal girl who sleeps in her own bedroom, where they can fall into Paris’ barely touched mattress and kiss each other until their lips are raw. Where Aggie can fall asleep breathless and happy, and Paris can lay painfully awake beside her, wishing she was sleeping on Eden’s couch.

Other nights, they spend time with Tav and Eden. Paris loves cooking for them all, and Aggie has even been requesting things, and asking for them to watch shows and movies together.

Paris catches on, actually pretty quickly, that Eden and Aggie do not speak to each other about cancer at all. Not outside of their group sessions every Wednesday, or the occasional dark, twisted joke. Whenever Paris asks about it, Aggie explains, vaguely, that they just get sick of talking about it every second of every day, and Paris doesn’t blame them. She feels sick of talking about cancer, too, and if she’s honest, she’s happy about their new dynamic as a friend group. Eden and Paris have been talking a lot about her upcoming consultation, and when Aggie’s around, he doesn’t bring it up. Paris can relax a little, and not worry about cancer every day. She gets to kiss a pretty girl and hang out with her brothers, and she’s okay.

She learns to love the weekends, the most, because she doesn’t like when Aggie doesn’t have to work during the week, when she has to rely on texting instead of running off to the Old Florida exhibits to see her. Paris wants to hold her, to look wistfully down into that pit where they first made love and whisper into Aggie’s ear and watch her squirm with embarrassment and excitement and a slew of other emotions Paris can’t see in texts. Her weekdays drag, on and on.

Today won’t be so bad, since Aggie works later in the afternoon, but she still has to get through the morning without her.

Paris takes her time getting ready, combing her fingers through Aggie’s hair and kissing the back of her neck before peeling herself out of bed. She picks up her dirty clothes from the floor and puts them back on, and stubs her toe on a monitor that’s too big to be out of the way in Aggie’s tiny room. She curses, quietly, and she shuts the door softly to go brush her teeth with Aggie’s toothbrush and grab her keys to head out.

The drive to Eden’s house is quiet, and she parks to head inside, surprised when the door is locked. She nearly walks face first into it, stumbling a little on the mat and staring up at the door. Paris has grown used to driving over here with Aggie every morning, having breakfast, and driving to the museum together, but the lights are off today. Paris is left no choice but to ring the doorbell.

It takes a minute or two, but Eden steps out eventually, awkwardly fisting a box of surgical masks and trying to fit his backpack out through the door. It looks heavy. Paris offers to take it for him, and it is heavy, but she steps out of the way so Eden can put his back to her and lock the door.

She waits, awkwardly, until he turns to face her again. “Oh,” Eden mumbles, shoving his keys down in the front pocket of his wrinkled khakis. “Sorry, Tav has a migraine, so he’s staying home today. I didn’t make breakfast.”

He coughs, and Paris stares at him. Eden’s a naturally pretty pale guy, like Paris is, but his lips look particularly red and swollen today, and his cheeks are splotchy, like he’s hot. “That’s okay. What’s wrong with you, are you sick?”

“Ugh,” Eden coughs again, and opens his little box of masks to try and get one out. “It’s just bronchitis. It hasn’t been this bad in a while and it’s just, ugh,” He shakes the box a little, frustrated, and Paris takes that from him, too, so she can untangle a mask for him. “It’s not contagious, it’s just my windpipe closing or whatever, and it’s just part of having COPD, but it’s really, really irritating.”

“You know TJ won’t want you to work if you’re sick.” Paris mumbles, helping Eden lift his oxygen tubes so she can put his mask on for him, before settling the tubes back on his ears. “You should stay home today.”

“I’m always sick,” Eden shakes his head, struggling to catch his breath when the oxygen tubes are back where they should be. “It’s just flaring up today. I brought these so I don’t freak anyone out.” Paris frowns at him, and he throws his hands out. “Seriously, it’s hard to explain to every single customer, oh, don’t worry, I just have f*cking lung disease, so I’d rather everyone just think I have a cold.” Paris stares at him, still, and he waves her off. “Really, it goes away after a few days. Well… it never goes away, it just gets worse sometimes, and then it gets better.”

Paris readjusts her grip on his backpack strap. “Well, you could still stay home. TJ would want you to.”

“I’m going to work.” Eden says, his brows knitting together. “I want to go to work. I’m not letting it kick my ass today.”

Slowly, Paris concedes, and lets him take his heavy bag and walk to the car.

She remembers what he was like before they started working at the museum, and Eden hasn’t been very sick in the time they’ve gotten closer, in the last year or so, but he’s not very confident in himself. She had to beg him to even apply for his job at the museum, because years and years of being bedridden and wheelchair bound convinced him he’s too weak to do a lot of sh*t ‘ normal’ people can do. As worried as Paris is, it’s really nice to see that he’s determined to power through his bad day and go to work anyway, especially when Tav isn’t going.

Paris agrees to drive him, but she makes a mental note to herself to check in on him, when she can. Maybe she’ll make sure he has a stool up at his cash register.

Work is just okay. She texts Aggie, when Aggie wakes up, and they talk a little bit about a show Aggie wants to watch together.

She is excited, after lunch, when Aggie gets to work, leaving the kids with Faith for a few minutes so she can head up towards the front to meet Aggie on her way in, to wrap her little arms around Aggie’s thick torso and get a good, long hug in. When she goes back to working, it drags, until an hour or so later, when Aggie texts her again, possibly on break from the tour.

Wanna come up? Miss you

Giddy, Paris takes her fifteen, practically skipping up towards the old plantation home. She passes slowly by the tour group, on break for a little while to play on the train with their chaperones. The house is unbelievably old and rickety, but well kept. Aggie does a very good job maintaining these old buildings and keeping them clean, and Paris can tell that she puts a lot of effort into it, every day. She cares about history, and about preserving things like this, which Paris thinks is so endearing. She’s just a really great person.

Aggie is upstairs, pretending like she’s rearranging some of the display signs, and she turns instantly, when she hears Paris on the stairs. They meet up here pretty regularly now, when they have some free time. It’s private, and the stairs are squeaky enough to give them time to push away from each other and straighten their uniforms out, before any unsuspecting guests walk in on something they shouldn’t. Instantly, Aggie snatches her up, nearly whisking her up off her feet to push her up against the stair railing.

Paris loves the way Aggie kisses her. She has never felt so desperately craved the way Aggie needs her, grasping at Paris’ skin and pushing her tongue past Paris’ lips, whimpering softly into her mouth like the time they’ve spent apart, working in the same museum without being able to see each other, is pure torture. Paris can feel how much Aggie wants her in every brush of her fingers, the soft push of her knee between Paris’ thighs, and the way her teeth drag Paris’ bottom lip in while they kiss.

God, Paris could do this for hours. These have really been some of the absolute best weeks of her life. She barely has to worry about anything at all, aside from work, she can just get lost in Aggie’s mouth and grind pathetically on her knee, gasping her own little moans to match Aggie’s.

She never really thought of herself as the type of person to become so obsessed with someone, after a lifetime of very few friendships and very distant family. Paris never really thought she would be the type of girl to let a relationship blind her to so much, to let her relationship become the soul driving purpose she has in life, but she can feel herself slipping into it anyway. Aggie is a warm, healing sun in Paris’ never ending night, and she wants to be lost in it. She wants to let Aggie take care of her, to be held and kissed and needed like she never thought she could be needed before.

They move away from the railing just to get out of view from the stairs, and Paris leans up against the back wall when Aggie makes quick work of the zipper of her jeans, deftly wriggling her hand between Paris’ thighs.

For two never-kissed-a-girl-before lesbians, they’ve gotten pretty good at this.

Aggie whispers sweet words to her, when she’s close, and Paris has to cover her mouth to keep from crying out. She lets herself calm down, wiping her hair from her mouth as Aggie pulls her jeans back up for her, and they get back to kissing while Paris lifts the hem of Aggie’s shirt to get at her jeans, too. It’s only fair.

Paris can’t get enough of her, and she knows Aggie feels the same. She wonders, briefly, if this is how people end up getting married so quickly. She could see a life with Aggie. She can feel herself falling in love, if she’s not already. Part of her worries it’s too soon, but the other part of her has f*cking ears that can hear Aggie’s soft little moans, and Paris can feel the love all the same.

They sit on the floor together afterwards, and Paris rambles a little about her day. Aggie talks about how the tour is going, and ends up checking the clock on her phone, and her eyes nearly bug out of her head when she sees the time.

“Let’s go out tonight.” Aggie says, smiling her usual, perfect little smile. “I want to take you somewhere nice.”
“Really?” Paris’ cheeks flush, more than they already are. “I would love that. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Aggie sighs, happily, like even just speaking to Paris is enough to make her entire day. “I just miss you.”

“I’m right here, Ags.”

“Yeah,” Aggie shrugs. “I still miss you. Let me take you out.”

“Okay,” Paris smiles, and Aggie pushes up off the floor to kiss her once more, long and slow, savoring every second, before heading off downstairs.

Paris watches her go, longingly, twisting her fingers together in front of her and taking in the sight of her, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. The room is stuffy, despite the crisp air outside, but Paris is sweating now, her undershirt sticking thickly to her skin. It’s a horrible feeling, so she decides to use the rest of her break to go up to her locker to take it off, and spend the remainder of her day in just her museum t-shirt. It’ll be chilly, but anything’s better than being soaked in her own sweat.

She heads downstairs, smirking to herself as Aggie talks to the children clustered at her feet. Their eyes meet, and Aggie’s cheeks darken, which makes Paris smile, her skin tingling with the memory of Aggie’s hands on her body.

The trek up to the front office is tough, when she’s this sweaty, but she makes it. She’s halfway through the hallway when she glances at a line of customers gathered up at the cash register in the gift shop, and Paris stops dead in her tracks.

Eden. She thinks.

She forgot to check on Eden.

Cursing herself, and feeling horrifically guilty, Paris backtracks, turning into the gift shop, surprised when the register is empty. Customers have gathered, items in hand, waiting to check out. They don’t seem disgruntled, but they’re waiting. Paris has no idea where Eden could have gone.

She turns to the girl at the ticket counter. “Hey, where did Eden go?” She just shrugs, and Paris sighs. “Okay, uh, do you know how to check these people out? There’s a line in here.”

“No, sorry.”

Paris’ shoulders droop, and she turns back to the customers to reassure them she’ll be right back, and sort of jogs across the hall, through the conference room, up to TJ’s office. He’s here today, thank God, flipping through paperwork on his desk with a frown on his face. Paris feels bad for interrupting him, but he smiles when she walks in.

“Do you know how to work the register in the gift shop?” Paris asks, drumming her hands nervously at her sides. “There’s a line, and Marissa said she didn’t know how to use it, and I don’t know where Eden went.”

“Oh,” TJ pushes up from his desk. “I can show you, let’s go check them out.” They walk back together, and TJ seems just as surprised by the size of the line as Paris was. He steps behind the register, and taps a few times to log in, and starts checking customers out as quickly as he can. “Hey, sorry about that. Did you find everything okay?”

Paris watches as he works, hoping to catch on quickly, but she feels nervous about this. It’s not really like Eden to just leave and not tell anyone, especially not if there are customers in the store. She feels worried about him, tapping her fingers together and chewing on her bottom lip.

One of the customers looks over at something, on TJ’s right, and Paris instinctively follows their gaze, to the cracked door to the gift shop’s backroom.

Her nerves get the best of her, and she instantly pushes past TJ to go check it out, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She wants to believe, confidently, that Eden is okay, and that maybe he really had to pee and just ran out really quick, and maybe he’ll come back as soon as he can, in just a few minutes. But her vision tunnels on the door, cracked ever so slightly, and she feels her mind racing, a mile a f*cking minute, guilt eating away at the lining of her stomach until it churns, making her sick.

She pushes it open a little, and Eden is inside.

He’s sort of hunched, his back up against one of the walls of shelves of merchandise, his hands braced firmly on his knees. The chatter of guests in the gift shop seems louder here, as she pushes the door open, so Paris can’t hear him, but she watches his shoulders as they tremble, his back heaving with each quick, shallow breath.

Oh God, Paris wants to tense up, but she rushes to him, horrified as she tries to think rationally, quickly. How can she help him? What can she do? She looks at his hands, at the beds of his fingernails, that are an unearthly sort of color. He’s taken his mask off, so she reaches for his face, hoping to help calm him down so he can catch his breath, expecting the same swollen, exhausted from coughing lips she saw this morning.

It’s hard not to be sick when she sees that they’re pale. A sickly, soft shade of blue.

“TJ!” She turns her head, to screech out towards the door, grateful when TJ instantly drops everything to rush into the little storage room.

He is infinitely better under pressure than Paris is, and he takes over instantly, dragging a big box of shirts up for Eden to sit on, getting his hands on Eden’s shoulders and getting him to sit down. “You’re okay, bud, you’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Paris feels so helpless now, backing up out of their way while TJ gets in front of Eden as he sits, and leans him all the way forward. He smooths his hand down Eden’s back, and presses his ear to Eden’s spine, listening. He gestures for Paris to shut the door, so she does, her fingers trembling with nerves. He moves his head a few times, listening to Eden’s lung before sitting him back, and reaching to the back of his own shorts where his walkie is clipped. Yanking it off, he tosses it to Paris, and she catches it, fumbling it in her hands.

“Get Aggie,” He says, and puts his hand up to Eden’s nose, feeling for oxygen from his tubes. “Okay, your tank is working, okay. Does your chest hurt?” He moves his hands to Eden’s chest, and Paris fumbles with the walkie, trying to remember how to use it.

She presses the button on the side, and talks into it, her voice trembling. “Aggie?”

She has to say her name a few times, but Aggie replies pretty quickly. “Hey, Parry. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Can you come to the gift shop?” Paris breathes, her stomach clenching and twisting in nervous knots. “I don’t know what’s… something’s wrong, Eden isn’t breathing but I don’t know what’s wrong. Can you come up here, please?”

There is no reply on the walkie, and Paris clutches it nervously, wringing it in her hands and watching TJ speak softly to Eden to try and calm him down. The door bursts open in under a minute, and Aggie shuts it fast behind her. She’s dripping with sweat, like she has never run so fast in her life. TJ moves out of her way so she can drop to her knees in front of Eden, grabbing his face sort of roughly and making him look up at her.

His shoulders tremble as he pants, unable to catch his breath, and Aggie shakes her head at him, keeping his head still and making him look up at her. “Stop. Stop.” She leans in closer to him, holding him in place. “Stop. You are freaking yourself out. Stop.”

Paris has never heard her sound so stern before, clutching TJ’s walkie nervously to her chest.

“Stop.” Aggie says again, staring at him. “Look at me. Stop.”

Surprisingly, he responds to it, and he shuts his eyes, clamping his mouth shut. Paris watches his features pale, her stomach clenching again as his blue lips darken. He looks up at Aggie, his eyes freshly bloodshot from squeezing them closed so tightly.

Aggie drops her hands, and holds one out for him to take, shakingly, and the other she holds to her chest. “In through your nose, okay? In,” She breathes, deep, and Eden does the same, keeping his mouth shut. “Hold it, hold it. Okay, out, slow. One, two, three, four.” She exhales, slowly, through her mouth, and Eden tries to do the same. He chokes, and coughs, quickly covering his mouth with his free hand, and she shakes her head. “Try again, okay? One more time. Big, deep breath.”

Paris can tell, thankfully, that they’ve done this before. It makes sense, of course, they’ve known each other for so long, but Paris hasn’t seen Eden struggle like this before, not since they’ve become closer. Maybe when he used to be sick, when she saw him in hospitals, but not recently. Not like this.

He coughs again, and Aggie makes him put his hand back down, and try again.

The third exhale, she counts out, slowly, flipping her hand over to push it downward as she breathes. She gets to three, and Eden coughs again, so she takes his other hand to keep him from impulsively reaching up. Again, they breathe in together, and Paris can see the color returning to his face, the red blotchiness in his cheeks coming back as he’s able to get air in his lung, oxygen in his veins. For a brief, few seconds, she feels relieved. Aggie smiles, and Paris can see the relief on her face, too, nodding and guiding him to exhale. He coughs, openly now, hard and horribly, and Paris drops the walkie, jumping as it breaks apart on the tile floor.

Blood splatters over Aggie’s mouth and chin, down the front of Eden’s shirt, and drips onto his lap.

Instantly, Eden panics, and a few sharp inhales have him wheezing again, his shoulders trembling. Aggie’s smile drops, but she squeezes his hands. She doesn’t panic. “No, you’re okay, it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s okay.” She tries to wipe the blood away. Paris can hear him now, gasping out short, fast breaths like he’s gagging, and she watches in horror as his bloodied spit drips from his bottom lip.

He coughs again, and Aggie drops his hands to pull him close to her, holding her hands to his back and chest and squeezing him close, a protective, careful sort of hug. She puts the side of her cheek on his back, like she’s going to listen to his lung, the way TJ did, but she stares over at Paris and TJ, mouthing a singular word to them through bloody teeth.

Ambulance.

TJ scrambles out the door, and Paris can hear him sending guests out of the gift shop, rushing out to the front desk to get to the phone.

Paris feels totally frozen now, staring helplessly at the scene before her, her hands still out like the walkie is still there.

Aggie pets Eden’s hair and makes him sit up, trying to get him to calm down again but it’s useless now. Paris watches as his chest heaves, shallow and terrified, staring down at his bloody hands. He’s crying, Paris can tell, and she wants to wrench her eyes away and hide from this, but Aggie is here. She feels sick, realizing this about herself, but she knows if Aggie wasn’t here, she would run. She would abandon Eden, when he needs people around the most. She would hide, she would shield herself from the sick, f*cked up reality of what’s happening and live blissfully unaware, just like she does with her own sh*t, just like she did with her f*cking mother.

But she doesn’t want Aggie to be here alone. She is scared, and shaking, and she is covered in blood, and Paris won’t leave her here to do this alone. And knowing that about herself, that she’s only staying for Aggie, not for Eden, who’s hurt, or for Tav, makes Paris feel like an absolutely terrible person.

TJ returns, and nods to Aggie reassuringly, holding up his fingers as he mouths how long it will be, still holding the phone to his ear. Aggie cradles Eden’s head against her chest, trying to rock him, but she stops, letting him sit up a little. He coughs again, into his hands, and Paris tries not to look at the blood that splatters his palms.

He mutters, in between breaths, and Aggie rubs his back, nodding quickly. “I know, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry, I know.” She turns, her eyes locking with Paris’, and Paris can feel the panic in her gaze. Despite her soothing voice and her gentle hands, she’s just as scared as Eden is. “Please, go get Tav. Bring him to the hospital to meet us there. Please.”

Stomach churning, Paris nods, clutching the air as if it’s the walkie, still, and turns to rush out to cross the hall, to get her keys from her locker before sprinting out to the parking lot, dropping into the driver’s seat of her car and kicking up dust as she drives.

Tav is deathly silent in the car.

He waited for her, outside, and used his cane to walk himself to the passenger side door of her car and let himself in. Paris thinks TJ must have called him, sitting quietly beside him and driving swiftly to the hospital. She glances at him, her heart aching at the sight of his hands, gripping tightly at his folded up cane and Wiggles the rabbit, sitting upright in his lap.

They walk into the hospital together, and Paris can’t bring herself to speak to him, ashamed of how badly she wanted to leave Tav’s husband, and how badly she does not want to be in the hospital now. She feels scared, like a child would. She can’t tell, actually, if Tav is scared at all. He keeps his head straight, and he walks beside her, rolling the ball of his cane and brushing her shoulder with his to stay close by.

Maybe he’s not scared, because maybe this isn’t as bad as Paris is worried it might be. Maybe everything is going to be okay.

TJ is waiting for them, pacing in the hospital lobby. He goes to Tav, instantly. “Hey, he’s okay. They admitted him, and they’re doing some tests to see what’s going on, but he’s okay, and he’s breathing.”

Slowly, Tav exhales, and Paris realizes how wrong she was. His rigid posture, his still expression, the rabbit clutched tightly to his chest.

Tav is f*cking terrified.

“Aggie is waiting for us, so I’ll take you up, okay? I’m right here.” He takes Tav’s arm, gently, and Tav shuts his pale eyes, nodding and quickly folding his cane up. He relaxes, visibly, and Paris has no choice but to follow behind them, back to an elevator and up to oncology.

Paris has been up here before. Her mother died here. It is just as creepy and miserable as she remembers.

The waiting room is still sad, still practically empty and surrounded by motivation posters that make no sense to Paris. Aggie is pacing, not sitting down, and Paris exhales a sigh of relief as she sees that Aggie’s face is clean. There is still blood on her shirt, splattered even worse now, from where Eden must have continued to cough on her, but it’s dried. She goes to Tav, first, of course, the moment she spots them, taking his hand from TJ and squeezing it tightly, pulling his hand up close to her chest.

“He’s okay.” Tav mumbles, nearly collapsing into her, and Aggie pulls him close, anyway, into a tight hug.

Paris can see, from Aggie’s exhaustion, that she needs the hug just as much as Tav does.

“He’s okay.” Aggie releases him, but he stays close, his head on her shoulder. “He had a panic attack, that’s why he couldn’t catch his breath. Did either of you see what he was freaking out about?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Paris says, quickly, and TJ shakes his head, too.

“Well,” Aggie sighs. “He has trouble with panic attacks.”

“Yeah, he does,” Tav mumbles again. “It was blood? He coughed up on you?”
Aggie swallows, visibly, and runs her tongue over her teeth impulsively. The blood is gone, but she must remember it so vividly now. “Yeah. TJ said he came in with bronchitis, which is normal for him, but I don’t know. I don’t know why he would bleed like that, if it’s just bronchitis. They took him back for x-rays and an MRI, but he’s breathing now. They intubated him for a little while, but one of the nurses was just back here, she said it's just the mask now.”

“Good,” Tav nods, again and again. “Good. That’s good.”

Carefully, Aggie guides him to the chairs to sit back down, and Paris quickly follows. It feels like an eternity, while they’re in the waiting room, and Aggie asks TJ to head back to the museum, insisting that she can handle things from her. He leaves, nearly begging them all to call him if they need anything.

Paris can’t believe how quickly this all has happened. She checks the clock on the wall, and it’s only been a few hours. She feels really angry with herself, for not knowing how long he couldn’t breathe. She should have checked on him sooner.

Eventually, a nurse comes to address them, speaking to Aggie. Tav clings to her arm when they stand to listen to her. They’re still waiting on test results, but he’s in a room now, if they want to see him. Paris has to nearly jog to keep up with their quick strides, down the hall, through a twisting series of patient rooms before they get to Eden’s. The nurse holds the door open for them, promising to keep them updated, and she promptly shuts it behind them to leave them alone with him.

Surprisingly, Eden does actually look okay. Paris doesn’t know why, but she was really expecting him to be that same, horrifying, sick little kid she remembers, from all the other times she’s been to visit him here. But, he’s sitting up, and he doesn’t seem any different from this morning. Tired, sure, and in a hospital gown, with this scary looking mask over his nose and mouth, but he’s okay. He even smiles, and holds his arms out for Aggie to walk Tav to his bed, which Tav quickly falls into, to shower Eden’s face with kisses while Eden chuckles. Paris can hear the smile in his voice, and she breathes a very grateful sigh of relief.

Beside her, Aggie backs up to reach her hand down for Paris to take, which she does, gladly. She squeezes Aggie’s palm, trying her best to be reassuring. She has no idea what else she can do here to help.

“Ah, you didn’t have to bring Wiggles,” Eden says, his voice horribly muffled by the mask. It sounds raspy, probably from whatever tube they put down his throat. As he speaks, the tank it’s connected to wheezes, the way his oxygen tank does. Paris glances at the bruise forming on his hand, encircling an IV, embedded in his skin. “I’m okay.”

“What happened?” Tav asks, reaching a shaky little hand up to run through Eden’s hair.

Eden takes Tav’s free hand to hold up close to his chest. “God, it’s stupid. I was just… This lady was trying to buy something, and I messed up her transaction, twice, and she yelled at me. There was a line behind her, and I just needed a second to catch my breath, so I stepped out, but it was so loud in there, and then I realized I was having trouble breathing at all, and that freaked me out, and then I was just… In it, I guess. I’m fine now.”

“You were bleeding, Eden,” Aggie mumbles, and he glances at her. “That’s not fine.”
“Well,” Eden shrugs, throwing his hands out. “I don’t know why. All this started because I couldn’t calm down, so I’m trying to be calm now, Ags.”

“I know,” Aggie sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me, too.” Tav whispers, petting Eden’s hair. Eden just smiles and breathes again, the tank wheezing behind him. “Don’t talk so much.”

Eden nods, and scoots over for Tav to climb up next to him, wrapping his arms around Eden’s torso and snuggling into his neck.

It is, sadly, sort of a long time before they have any test results or anything. Eden says they haven’t even brought his x-rays yet, which he finds annoying, because he wants to go home. Paris has gotten so used to him lecturing her about taking care of herself and scheduling her consultations, that it’s almost weird to see him so calm and unbothered, like his biggest concern is whether or not he’ll get to sleep in his own bed.

When a doctor returns, Aggie gets up from her chair to help Tav down, so they can stand off to the side while Eden sits up again in bed. The doctor asks how he’s doing, and Eden insists that he’s fine, just tired. Paris wonders if he’s actually fine, or if adrenaline has convinced him not to be scared. Grimly, she realizes he’s probably just used to this. Paris would be scared sh*tless in a hospital like this, hooked up to machines and waiting for test results that could mean life or death. She’s always so scared after every screening she’s done. But, Eden has been in and out of this hospital his entire life. This is f*cking light work to him.

Paris doesn’t feel comforted by that at all.

Eden points with his free hand, at the folder the doctor carries. “Is that my x-rays?”

“Yes,” The doctor clears her throat, and she wrings her hands together. “I called Dr. Tenebris, if you’d like to wait.”

“I know what my lung looks like.” Eden says. “Let’s see it.” She hesitates, and he waves his hand. “I’m trying to go home.”

“Okay,” The doctor says, and she opens the folder, sticking a few of the black scans up on the wall, before walking over to flick the switch, illuminating them.

Paris doesn’t like looking at x-rays. And Eden’s are f*cking freaky. It shows his bones, his entire rib cage, intact, albeit a few bone spurs here and there, and Paris can see his lung, but the left half of his chest is just empty. It’s hard to look at.

The doctor goes through it all, she explains how a few of his organs have shifted, which she says Eden already knows, some sort of common side effect for pneumonectomy patients, and his bronchial tubes are inflamed, which he also already knows. That's bronchitis. Paris almost expects him to roll his eyes, and insist that he wants to go home, but he’s staring, sort of bug eyed, at the scan of his lung. Paris looks away from him, to inspect it, too, before realizing that Aggie is staring the same way. Paris doesn’t know what they’re looking at, but she watches as Aggie slowly drops her face into her hands.

Again, Paris looks at it, but she can’t tell what’s wrong. It just looks like a lung to her.

Slowly, the doctor reaches for it, pulling the scan front and center, directly across from Eden’s bed. “I wanted to send back for clearer scans, to really get a good look at this one.” She points, with her finger, up to the x-ray, towards a white speck, close to Eden’s spine. Honestly, Paris thought that was part of the x-ray. The doctor strengthens her voice a little. “I’m sure you know, lung nodules are very common for patients with pulmonary diseases. We see these quite often, and there is a seventy-six percent chance that nodules of this size are benign. However, given your history with rapid tumor growth-”

“It’s a tumor.” Eden says, loudly, through his mask, and the doctor puts up some more x-rays.

“It is possible, I won’t lie to you,” She concedes, and Paris tries to keep her composure as Tav visibly freezes, and Aggie tries to take his hand, limp in her own. “Malignant nodules will grow rapidly, quickly. How long have you been experiencing hemoptysis?”

“Today.” Eden leans his head back against the pillow, the machine wheezing. “It was just today.”

“For most of my COPD patients, I would recommend we wait it out, see if it grows. However, Dr. Tenebris explained the frequency in which your previous tumors have spread. We have some options,” She reassures, as Eden sinks slowly down the pillow. “The quickest option, of course, would be to go ahead and remove it, surgically, it’s an invasive procedure, and unfortunately, with your pneumonectomy, any operations on your lung opens up a long list of complications and risks that we will need to discuss with you. Otherwise, we can investigate the nodule endoscopically and submit the sample for testing. If it is benign, we can leave it, for now, and see about getting you on a transplant list to get you back up to two lungs. But, if it’s malignant-”

She pauses, and Aggie speaks into her hand. “Radiation.”
“Yes,” The doctor repeats, her tone grim. “We would need to begin radiation immediately.”

Paris stares, her stomach twisting in knots, at Eden’s chest, as his breaths turn shallower. She can see him shut his eyes.

“I’d like to set up a call with Dr. Tenebris, to further discuss your options, but we need to act quickly.” The doctor pulls some of the x-rays down, leaving the one in the center, with the clearest view of the nodule. “I’ll leave you here for a bit to think it over, and we can meet with your oncologist to draft a coherent treatment plan.”

She takes Eden’s hand, briefly, before she leaves, and the echo of the door shutting makes Paris truly realize how horrible the room feels now. Flooded with fear. Palpable, horrible fear.

Aggie presses her nose to Tav’s ear, whispering to him, quickly, and he nods, again and again, until Paris releases him, looking over at the bed. “Eden?”

“Chemo.” Eden says, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to do f*cking chemo.”

“I know,” Aggie breathes. “But we have some time, we can talk about it,” She watches, too, and Paris can see the sweat beading on her forehead, as Eden puts his hand on his chest. “Just focus on breathing, okay?”

“Mhm,” Eden mumbles, into the mask, and the wheezing comes more consistently.

Aggie brings Tav forward, and Tav puts his hands over Eden’s on his chest. “It’s going to be okay, baby, we’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I can’t have another surgery.” Eden whispers, and Tav shakes his head.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay. She’s going to call your doctor.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Denny, it’s okay, we’ll-”

“I don’t know what to do,” Eden says, and his voice cracks, his shoulders trembling as he struggles to breathe. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to, baby,” Tav reaches for Eden’s hair again, raking his fingers through it. Paris is impressed by how calm he seems. She wants to collapse onto the floor. “We’ll figure it out for you. All you have to do is breathe.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to, baby, I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay.” Tav leans to sit on the edge of the bed, still petting Eden’s hair. “Stop. You’re okay. Stop.”

“Eden,” Aggie sort of warns, as his chest heaves, and he nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re going to be fine, it’s okay.”

Paris feels frozen again, as the machine wheezes, and she gets to listen to Aggie talk him out of a panic attack for the second time today. He manages, eventually, but Paris can hear him cry into the mask. Her heart breaks at the sound of it, dry breaths huffed openly into the plastic mask. She hates this, every second of it, watching on the sidelines while her family tries their best to help each other, talking soothingly to Eden to keep him calm, so he won’t need to be intubated again.

He mumbles, while Tav cradles his head.

“I’m going to call your mom,” Tav whispers, eventually. “She’ll want to be here. I’m going to go call her, okay? She’ll be here.”
“Okay.” Eden breathes, and Tav pats the mattress to find Wiggles, tucking the rabbit close to Eden’s chest and holding his hand out for Aggie to give him his cane again. Aggie takes over keeping her hands on Eden, and Eden sits up a little, staring directly at Paris, who gulps. “Please go with him. Please.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Paris wipes her nose, nervously, and she follows behind Tav as the door shuts, expecting to walk with him away from the room and out of this hallway, so they can call Sion together.

Instead, he stops, right outside, leaning heavily against the wall.

Paris reaches for him. “Tav? You okay?”

He flinches away from her, and whacks the ball of his cane against the wall, a little too quickly and loudly, making sure nothing is there before he sinks to sit up against it. Paris can’t do anything but watch, as he curls up on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, dragging his knees up to his chest and dropping his cane to the floor. He takes a singular, long, deep inhale, and he sobs, trembling hands nearly punching himself in the jaw.

Paris has never seen him cry before, horrified by the way his face flushes, and the way he wails, openly, tragically, heart-breaking, miserable moans like Paris has never f*cking heard before. He trembles, and he rocks on the floor. He brings the heels of his palms to his temples to pound angrily at his skull, which Paris knows must hurt. She wants to freeze and run, like she always does, to see this, to see how much pain he’s in, and sprint, and run and hide and pretend like she never saw any of this. She wants to live forever in blissful stupidity, she wants to be happy and stupid. She wants to be stupid.

She also is just… so f*cking sick of being scared all the f*cking time.

Slowly, she picks up his cane to fold up, and she sinks to sit beside him. She reaches an arm out to hold him, to pull him close to her chest so he can spit and cry and curse into her shoulder. It’s scary, to let someone be so vulnerable with her, but Paris wants to help. She wants to comfort him, she wants to let him have an outlet to get his fear out, so he can seem brave for Eden, who desperately needs all of them to be braver than he is.

She wants to be here. She is not going anywhere.