Stop, I’m doing great. I have friends. A friend. He thinks I speak Spanish, but I’m sure when he realizes I don’t, we’ll still be friends. And he’s the cook, so that’s pretty sweet.
A party had been the last thing she was expecting.
Mila had never really had a birthday party. When she was little she was in orphanages and foster care and the most they got was a quick birthday song and a cupcake or cookie, maybe, if they were lucky. She could remember, though, after being adopted, when her parents had attempted to throw her a party for her birthday one year.
No one had shown.
Mila just had never been able to make friends. The friends she managed to make as a child growing up in the system were always either bounced around or adopted and taken away from her. It got to the point where she stopped trying; stopped getting attached, and finally stopped being friendly all together. Even after she was adopted, she kept the mentality that people didn’t stick around. Friends she made weren’t considered friends to her - they were people convenient and tolerable enough to pass the time with every now and then - and just because she enjoyed herself around them, that didn’t have to mean they were her friends.
Besides, she didn’t usually trust people enough to be that close to them anymore.
But somehow, some way, somewhere along the line, while attending this bizarre school of magic which wasn’t ever supposed to even exist, the impossible had happened. People had entered her life, enjoyable people, that were somehow more than just tolerable, that became more than someone to pass time with. They became people she wanted to see, people that sought her out and wanted to see her.
She still wasn’t used to it sometimes. Mila often still had nights where she cried for her own lonely soul, believing no one cared about her. Even living rent free with Lawrence, who had become what normal people would call a best friend, wasn’t enough to soothe the ache she’d etched permanently into her own heart over time.
And here she was, on her birthday. Another year she doubted anyone would know what day it was, or care. She was already full of bitterness as she worked the day shift at Maestro’s, ready to leave and get fucked up and forget she’d aged another year with nothing to show for it. She was glad she’d worked for her birthday. It had kept her distracted.
The last thing she’d been expecting when she opened the door to the apartment was to see a room full of people yelling “Surprise!” She had gasped and instinctively reached for her wand, only to realize what was happening and stop herself before firing off some sort of spell. The wind had rushed forward and wrapped around her comfortingly, and she’d taken in the faces of the people in the room.
Lawrence. Tristan. Poppy. Marlo. Hal. Olivier. Ed. Kai. Zeke, though Mila was still too mad to look at him after the last time he’d been in this apartment. Marzia, though she looked a bit reluctant and forced into it. Mila didn’t pay her any mind. Instead, for the first time, she walked in to a room full of people wishing her a happy birthday.
It had all been overwhelming, especially for Mila, who would never admit how uncomfortable she could get in a crowd with the wrong mood and timing. She’d had to excuse herself, once, to go to her room and take a minute, intending to get high as all hell. She didn’t know Lawrence had followed, but she’d been glad he did when she had a miniature breakdown and needed to talk about her own stupid emotions and how this had all happened, how this could all be for her.
The next thing she knew, the second she was better, he was dragging her out and back to her own party, saying something about a birthday gift and one of the songs they’d been working on with Tristan’s help.
Apparently, Lawrence had already given his boyfriend the heads up before following Mila to her room. Because set up in the living room was a mic stand and two chairs, one with a keyboard in front of it and the other behind the stand. Mila opened her mouth to speak but Lawrence pushed her next to the stand before moving behind it himself, speaking into the microphone.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks, get ready for your eardrums to have a literal orgasm courtesy of my best girl, Mila Evans!” he shouted enthusiastically, and everyone clapped. Some kind of spell must have been in use to cast a spotlight effect as Lawrence gestured to the chair behind the mic, and Mila looked at him, confused beyond belief. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“I finished the song for you. The one with the secret lyrics. Time to hear it, if you’d be so kind as to sit your sexy ass on that chair and prepare to sing it.”
She blanched. That song? It had to be that song? It was so personal, so...
“I ‘ate you. I ‘ate you so fucking much,” she whisper-raged, automatically angry at him for not knowing what he’d done. But then she realized just that - that he didn’t know - and softened, gritting her teeth as she moved to hug him. “Thank you,” she sighed, defeated and beginning to prepare herself as she took a deep breath and pulled away, moving to take her seat. He winked in reply, and that was all she needed.
She adjusted the mic stand as Lawrence took his seat behind the keyboard, and was content to wait for the music before she looked out at all the faces of people she once hardly knew. She held out a hand for Lawrence to wait. And then she was silent still, breathing anxiously, yet excited for her upcoming performance. But this was different. It was going to be different if this was the song she was going to sing. Because, ironically, in a way, as much as this song was about Mila... it was about all of them, too.
“Um...” She stalled, looking down at her feet, not quite sure how to begin. “I’m not sure if everyone ‘ere is familiar with... Peter Pan. I mean, I feel like you’d ‘ave to be a bloody idiot not know about ‘im, and I’m not gonna relay the ‘ole story right now for you if you don’t. But y’know... Fucking... Anyway, I...” She took a deep breath, and started again. “I liked that book. As a kid. I’m not a kid anymore, so don’t you dare fucking go trying to tease me or I’ll bite your ‘ead off. I just... I needed a good metaphor... for this song. For it to not be so... stupid. And... anyway, just... I always felt like a Lost Boy. Girl. Wha’ever. Something like that. Doesn’t ma’’er, I just... What ma’’ers is I’m not... You... You’re all ‘ere, and I’m not....”
She didn’t know how to do this. Be sentimental, or emotional, and she... she can’t continue. Looking back at Lawrence, she mutters for him to just start the fucking song already. He smiled, knowingly, with a nod, and played the first few notes. And then, when it was her cue, Mila took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and started to sing.
“There was a time, when I was alone. Nowhere to go, and no place to call home. My only friend was the man in the moon, and even sometimes, he would go away, too. Then one night as I closed my eyes, I saw a shadow flying high. He came to me with the sweetest smile, told me he wanted to talk for a while.”
She looked over in Lawrence’s direction, slight smile to her lips. “He said... ‘Peter Pan, that’s what they call me. I promise that you’ll never be lonely.’ And ever since that day....”
*He says as much quietly, keeping his eyes down and fixed on where he’s fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper restlessly, unravelling some of the wool and pulling at the loose threads when they’re free.*
*He let Marlo drag him out of the house, but he never agreed to be any fun.*
CANADAAAAAAAAA. MY LITTLE CHEF. LYDIA, YOU ARE A RAIN OF SUNSHINE WHEN THE WORLD HAS TURNED SOUR. THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE. THANK YOU FOR BEING AWESOME AND ALWAYS SO EXCITED ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE’S CHARACTERS.
Alright, just to clarify for an eighth and final time, this is completely temporary. You’re not moving in. If you want to move in you have to pay rent, and probably put the flat you and the Worlds Longest Walking Disappearing Act were sharing back on the market. I’m just taking care of you because I’m like ninety percent sure you can’t be trusted to cook for yourself, or handle most household chores without accidentally losing a limb somehow, if I’m honest.
Just so we’re completely clear. Alright?
*He sets the mug of ‘tea’ he brought with him from the kitchen on the floor in front of Zeke, to the left of the travel cauldron simmering in the living room, and then crosses his arms over his chest.*
Now. Drink your experimental tea so I can see if there are any unexpected side affects. There should be no purple spots on your...you know. ...this time.
Last time was a fluke, I promise. I know exactly where I went wrong and it won’t happen again.
“Can you clear my schedule for today? If there’s anything that can’t be rescheduled... I-I need you to figure it out. If a CO needs to take care of it personally... maybe contact Natalie and tell her I had an emergency situation come up and I need her to handle it for me. Hopefully she’ll realize it’s serious enough that she needs to be serious about it. If she doesn’t answer, use the spare key to the apartment that I gave you and have no mercy on her. If a CO doesn’t need to be present I’m going to put a lot more faith and trust in you very suddenly without warning but only because I feel like you could handle things like interviews and other minor situations. This is... it’s too important.”
She forces herself to take a deep breath, fully aware she’s rambling but unable to help it. “Can you do that for me?”
