#ft. irlsunbeam

[hollow--sun]

FMK your first 3 @s

@whimmortal @vengeancedemon @irlsunbeam

Yeah I am not doing that.

[hollow--sun]

🕒 When:  15th of November 📍 Where: Estella's house 👥 With Whom: Estella @irlsunbeam and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun 🔹 Summary: Henri and Estella have one of their movie nights. It's a great opportunity to catch up and discuss plans for the near future.

“Sure.” If only because Henri had no intention of arguing with Estella on which movies they ought to choose for movie night, he caved in very easily. He was notoriously bad at choosing anything reasonable, and chances were that you could end up stuck in front of a 325 minutes long 1995 Czech movie just because he heard that the director had an interest in antique art forms. 

Of course, they had met at her house again. The largest screen at Henri’s was his laptop’s whereas Estella could have charged a fee with the sort of equipment she owned. No one needed a cinema with her in their entourage. 

Picking up a single piece of popcorn from the bowl between them, he grinned as he crossed her gaze. “Don’t think this means I’ll be singing any of the lyrics, but I suppose it’s best we rewatch it before the second part comes out.” 

__

She’d been able to get Henri to do pretty much anything that she wanted him to for just about as long as they’d known each other. It wasn’t out of manipulation, but simply the fact that they worked well together, and Henri was usually the softest he ever was around her. Except that now he had someone else to be soft and easy-going around, and even though she tried not to let it bother her, Estella was acutely aware of just how much it did bother her.

Because, apparently, she was possibly in love with her best friend.

Which was even more clichéd than was usual even for her. 

Which, she supposed, was really quite something.

But she still wanted to be his friend, even if she had a whole lot of other newly recognized complicated feelings about him. 

But the two of them were still friends and she was still going to make him see the second part of Wicked when it premiered, and it was a good movie to watch together. It even passed his intense standards, which made her feel all the more proud - on the movie’s behalf, even though she’d had nothing to do with its creation.

“We’ll see. Maybe I will persuade you to attempt one of the songs, but I don’t want to offend the actresses because even if you and I are okay at singing, they’re, like, spectacular, so maybe we should just leave it to them?” She grabbed a piece of popcorn and popped it into her mouth. “Ready to go?”

__

“I’m not singing anything,” Henri stated. “This is like a review session before the final exam. I want to make sure I remember all the facts.” And he said it like he meant it too, but in truth Henri was not the sort to forget anything that was important, and if something mattered to his best friend, you could be assured that he would remember it. 

In a way, this was why they were rewatching the movie : because it mattered to Estella. 

“They’re… I mean, I’ve always been told that singers on Broadway are superior by far,” how very typical of him to think of the best there was when someone told him that they found something spectacular. How good could someone be if they were not the best of their trade ? 

That was the sort of thinking that often drove him to exhaustion, because he applied those principles to himself as well. He had to be better. He had to be the best. If you weren’t excellent, what was even the point of doing things? 

This sort of thinking didn’t appear out of thin air, of course, although he didn’t think it even came from his parents. His grandmother had always been more severe than either of them, which explained, he supposed, how she was still alive, at her age, despite having only retired from hunting at the age of 60. 

__

“You know what, I kind of dig you calling it a review session.” Henri loved school more than anybody she knew, and so his conflating a movie night with studying was a compliment. Some people might have not taken it that way, but Estella was not most people. She cared about Henri, loved him, quirks and all. She supposed she could say the same for how he treated her. He cared for her and understood parts of her that very few others did.

Of course, there was a bit of a cloud that hung between the two of them (one that she was very much working on getting rid of, a.s.a.p), but even if Henri was loved by more people now, and loved in ways that she felt stomach-twisty about, he was still Henri and she was going to do her best not to let anything else dampen her experience and all that they’d developed. He was too important for that, and besides, she loved love and so if he was really and truly happy then that was what mattered.

“Not to ‘well, actually’ you, but both of the leads in this have been on Broadway. Not in Wicked, but they’ve been on it and are considered very good even by Broadway standards.” Estella grinned. “Maybe I need to take you on a weekend trip to New York. They do have a really good Natural History Museum…”

She knew Henri always wanted the best. Both of himself and of others. It was why he’d rolled his eyes when she’d shown up in his classes in high school, because she wasn’t being her best self. But she already knew what she was going to do with her life, and spending years and years in school wasn’t going to be it. No matter if she’d had times where she thought that she’d become a veterinarian. That was too much school and too much not getting to run things on her own terms.

“I figure about halfway through we can order takeout? Do you want our usual?” Thai, of course.

__

"I don't think there's another word or colloquialism for this, Stella," he covered his mouth with the back of his hand as a yawn took over. Finding a posture he liked on the couch, he leaned into it and reached behind his head for a plaid blanket, because while Estella always seemed to feel warm, he ran cold so easily, his hands often felt like they belonged to a revenant. If he was superstitious, he'd have seen something in it ; a sign that he had a cold heart too, or the hands of a killer. And maybe he did, but that wasn't the sort of comparison he'd make. Henri was a pragmatist, one who knew that what he did needed being done, and who knew that one day, it could be his turn too. 

And that would be fair. That, would be deserved.

There was no telling of what crossed his mind when he looked at Estella and smiled back at her. "We're doing a full day at the Natural History Museum, if we're headed there," and that was only because the museum had closing hours. "And the other day is yours to claim, naturally," not that he couldn't think of other places worth visiting. There were other archeology oriented locations there, but... It was not her thing, and Henri could concede that one day of looking at geological and biological treasures was enough for normal folks.

"Please. I don't think I have it in me to cook anything. I greatly miscalculated how much time the PhD is going to take. And well the Professor I work with demands a lot from me, which is great, because I am learning a lot, but... The woman replies to my emails at midnight. I tell myself I'll send my work and go to bed, but... then she replies, and with annotations too," and he didn't want to be the guy who sent the work in in the morning. That just... Well that wasn't a normal thing to do. She'd know he had been keeping it under his elbow until morning.

__

She liked blankets, even though she didn’t need them, usually. Still, they were very human and very comfortable, and her human friends seemed to be a fan of them, and so she kept them around. Even if she didn’t need them, they still felt nice, so that was more than enough.

Estella also knew that even if Henri was her only human friend who liked something, she would have made sure to have it available in every possible format because of him. Because she always wanted to have things available for him, and she wanted to do any and everything for him. Which perhaps should have been an earlier indicator that she was in love with him, but that was also just how she felt about friends. Friends deserved love and Estella loved deeply no matter who someone was, so she didn’t think it was all too immediately obvious that she was in love with this best friend. Still, that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel some kind of way right now, as if this movie night was a bit different than usual because of these feelings, even if they were one-sided and also one-side-noticed (Henri would have commented on it otherwise, wouldn’t he?)

She wrinkled her nose as he talked about his PhD. “Well, I am sorry she does that. I know I am often very asleep in the middle of the night, but if you ever need company while you do all of this, you can always text me or call or whatever and I’ll stay up.” It wasn’t an out of pocket offer, because it was what she would have offered regardless of where they stood. She wanted to help Henri first, last, and always. “So we’ll order Thai for sure, and should we get started? We can pause to talk if you want.”

__

With a crinkle at the corner of his eyes, Henri found himself once again appreciative of his oldest friend's kind heart. Because while he was surrounded with people who didn't need to sleep as much, or people who hunted at night, there weren't many who would have offered to keep him company like that. 

“You’re awfully nice and clearly clueless as to what it is I do so late at night. It’s boring, even to me.” And that was a gasp worthy comment if he ever said one. “I’m compiling data regarding the geological nature of the soil on the sea front and it’s as long as it is fastidious,” but once he was done with that, he would be able to move onto the second part of the job, which would allow him, and future archeologists, to date with more accuracy, findings located on the coast of Maine, all the way down to Pennsylvania. 

And well, the database he’d create would happen to bear his name too. But…

Did he mention it being tedious yet ?

“Thai. Yes. And then we can get started and you can pretend that Elphaba is prettier than Fiyero,” it was a tie, clearly, but taste was subjective, apparently. “Or was it the other way around?” Not that it mattered. He was a lot more interested in the moral code of each character, and definitely had a few thoughts about the manichean nature of a few of them. But, it was all drawn from a children's novel and… he was raised with hunter flavored stories… he was probably not fit to have opinions on that.

He grabbed his phone in his jeans and gave the menu a look although… “I’ll just go for the Pad Thai again. Not feeling adventurous tonight,” and he’d rather they got to the movie instead. Scooting closer to her, Henri could grab the remote and get the rest ready while she ordered.

__

“Not the first time I’ve been called clueless.” Though it felt different when Henri said it versus when her father did. She should have hoped so. Even if she knew that Henri judged her for perhaps any number of things, she also knew that it came from a place of care and love. The same couldn’t be said for her father. 

Which was, perhaps, where some of her love for this particular movie came from. Though on some levels she knew that she was more like Galinda/Glinda (she chose to include both names, because she could admit that she had habits like her in both parts of the story), but her father’s hatred for her because of what she was felt eerily similar to what Elphaba experienced. 

“Thai. Yes. Duh.” She giggled. It was easy to be herself completely around Henri. That wasn’t a surprise. She’d known him for almost her entire life – for longer than she’d known her older brother or Monica – her twin flame.

“They’re both gorgeous, it’s not something I am going to fight about. I like how Fiyero looks in his pants in that dance scene and I like Elphaba because… well, she’s got a kind smile.” Henri knew that Estella’s father disliked her, but he didn’t know the full reasons behind why. Someday, maybe, she’d tell him. Someday, she figured, she’d have to. But not right now.

She nestled against his shoulder. “I’ll get tofu and veggies, and we can split halfsies.” Estella tapped the order into the delivery app and turned back to face her friend. “Should be here in about thirty minutes or so.” Stretching out her feet, she grabbed a fuzzy blanket and threw it over the two of them. “Would you do the honors of pressing play? I’m pretty cozy where I am right now.”

____

The confession that she’d been called clueless many times made him pause. Henri’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached for her hands. “Estella, you’re brilliant, and believe me when I say that I’m clueless about what I do too, at times.” He smiled. “You just have to be an impostor at time, I think that’s how you learn the trade the fastest, because God forbids we get caught red handed not knowing shit,” with a light laugh, nestled against the back of the couch, resting his cheek atop her head. 

 “You like how he looks in his pants?” Well that was certainly worth clearing his throat and then gasping in mock offense. His mouth took the shape of the most absurd and comical O as he sat up and looked at her, as though she just said the most obscene thing he had ever heard. “Are you saying you’ve been looking at Jonathan Bailey’s arse and basking into a clear example of female gaze?” That’s how you knew he was just teasing her : an accusation coated in progressive verbiage. Of course she had every right to oggle. He found it hard to believe that a single soul had not done the same thing. “Elphaba does have a kind smile. And amazing glasses. Flawless posture too,” yes, he had looked at people’s posture, so what? 

Placing a kiss on top of her head, he reached out to get his hand on the remote, and as he had done so many times before, settled by Estella’s side, his head resting against hers, and a couple of her many pets joining in. 

[hollow--sun]

[ There is no universe where Estella will be able to gift Henri everything she wants to. In large part because he’d yell at her if she did. So she includes a photo from when they were in high school, some pairs of fun socks (with boats on one, bones on one, books on one, and then of course ones with suns. There is also an uno card (yes the same sort that he got her) because they are freakishly on the same page about things. There’s also a voucher to get first class tickets to Italy for the upcoming spring or summer, whenever works best for him. And of course, a note, which is incredibly long and detailed but includes, at the end:

You are my person.

Love,

Estella ] ___ Henri audibly gasps at the Uno Card because how dare.  He’s way too giddy about the socks, and the patterns. He decides to wear the boats one on the 25th, bones on the 26th, books on the 27th and the sun ones on the 28th.  Unfortunately for Estella, the plane ticket voucher trigger anxiety because he’s an IDIOT who now feels as though everything will fall apart further more if he leaves town. He gotta keep an eye on Jenny now, and well he is super late on his research, having spent most of December on a non-existent (?) upior cure, and [anxiety spiral goes here] The note does manage to help him slow down and find a bit of solace though. 

[hollow--sun]

FMK: Your top most-texted contacts.

This is juvenile.

F Eve. It’d be efficient, mutually respectful, and absolutely never spoken of again.

M Estella. She already knows all my secrets, drinks my coffee, and insists on naming my plants. We're basically married already.

K Owen. Happily.

[hollow--sun]

[pm] [deleted: I can't stop GLOWING] Hey! So, I figured you have plans tonight with your girlfriend [del: who by the way is meant murder me because of who she is!!] but just in case I am unavailable. I think I had a reaction to something, so I'm just chilling at home!

[pm] Thank GOD

Not my girlf

Are you going to be alright? I can stop by later if you want?

[hollow--sun]

[ Delivered to Henri’s apartment with the following note attached, as well as a box of muffins.]

Got you a rainbow that matches your house’s aesthetic. Love you!!!!!

oxoxoxox – Stella

[hollow--sun]

🕒 When: Today 📍 Where: The Old Treehouse 👥 With Whom: Estella Hartmann @irlsunbeam and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun 🔹 Summary: Henri and his best friend, Estella, meet at their childhood hideout after weeks apart. While catching up, tension lingers as the sun fae senses something weighing on him.

The treehouse looked a lot smaller than Henri remembered. 

When they were kids, the place had felt like a fortress, untouched by adults and their rules, high above the ground, distancing them from the rest of the world. 

The wood had tarnished and the paint had chipped in places but the treehouse still remained standing, like the both of them.

Estella nowhere to be seen, Henri climbed up first, his boots making the wood creak as he escalated his way up to the entrance. The air was damp with the scent of wood and nostalgia, and Henri settled on the floor near the entrance, his fingertips idly tracing the carvings of the wood - he and Estella’s initials, a childish drawing of the sun and moon, as well as a tally of how many times she had dared him to jump down instead of using the ladder. 

He exhaled, glancing toward the fading horizon. She’d be here soon.

It had been too long since their last real conversation.

__

The treehouse had been part of their life’s story for practically forever. Not literally, of course, because she hadn’t lived for forever just yet, but ever since she was tiny and Henri was tiny too (though slightly less tiny than she was, on account of being a few years older). Her father never came to bother her when she was in the treehouse, which was always welcome. The treehouse was sturdy and ever-lasting. It was a secret getaway for them, and more than once she’d done her best to convince Henri that they should sleep over in the treehouse (she did love the way the morning sunlight hit through the treehouse windows).

She was running late (it wasn’t completely her fault, she’d got caught up in an argument about multilingualism online and had only noticed the time when she’d glanced at her watch and realized she had to go and meet up with Henri) but she knew that Henri would forgive her.

Estella wasn’t too much of a fan at all of the oncoming dusk, but Henri made her feel safe even when it was nighttime. Still, three flashlights and half a dozen uncracked glow sticks were in her bag.

“Sorry, some idiots were saying some stupid stuff online.” She threw her bag onto the floor of the treehouse and swung her body into the room. “Hey.” She grinned. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m hungry, so I got Thai on my way over here – which yes, is partially why I’m late, but I got spring rolls and pad thai – vegetarian, both, and I had to grab some veggies and tofu too.” She lay against the wall of the treehouse. “It’s really nice to see you.” 

__

With a simple raise of his eyebrows, Henri commented on her lateness. Of course she was late because she had been arguing online. “Regrettable but I know you showed them good.” Because if there was one thing Henri would not attempt, it was arguing with Estella because she was able to do it in five different languages without breaking a sweat, and fighting was not something he needed more of. 

If the idea of him not being hungry was a myth in itself, he didn't comment on the matter, instead laying his back against the wood of the treehouse as he reached into the bag for a spring roll. You’re forgiven. He seemed to say, as he chewed slowly on his first bite.

Exhaling, he leaned his head back on the wall and tilted his chin toward his friend. “It’s good to see you too,” he quietly responded. 

__

He’d known her long enough to know that sometimes she was late. It wasn’t a quality about herself she admired (except for when it pissed off her father) especially, but it wasn’t something she made any great effort to change, either. It just simply was, and Estella was fine with that. “Obviously.” She grinned. “But you’re worth getting away from trying to right people’s wrongs on the internet.” He was worth so much more than that, and she hoped he still knew that, but overdosing him with compliments wasn’t going to do any good and so she left it simple. There was so much more to be said in what was unsaid.

She grabbed a spring roll right after him and started to nibble at the fried paper. After a moment, she stretched out her arms and rolled her shoulders. It wasn’t out of nerves that she moved around – with Henri, she didn’t get anxious. Not usually, unless outside circumstances caused her anxiety. Henri himself never did, despite how much more serious he was about everything than she was. But it was something she liked about him – it was familiar. It made her know that he was her Henri, and not some imposter.

Just in case, she checked her bag for a mirror. If someone did try to imposter Henri, she’d waste no time in setting them on fire.

“How’s school? It’s almost the end of the semester, right? Does this mean I can get you to go away with me this summer? Any place you want. We could go to Bora Bora? Or Los Angeles for a weekend?” She took another bite of her spring roll, “whatever, we’ll figure it out. But I am making you go somewhere.”

__

The flattery was met with a faint eyeroll and perhaps hints of a smile. . Henri would never admit to it, but he needed the special sort of warmth that only could be provided by trusted friends and whenever Estella said such things, she made him feel a bit less lonely. 

Wiping his fingers on a napkin with precision, the young man fixed his eyes somewhere past her shoulder. He could picture it. Bora Bora, the sun hitting the ocean with such warmth it turned it all to gold, the heat on his skin, the scent of monoï lingering about. Or maybe they could go to LA, to a city that never seemed to ever go dark, kept awake by the humming of dreamers. 

It should have been easy to say yes. He had long ago accepted that she enjoyed doing these sorts of things for people, even if said people belonged to the middle class, like him. But the thought of leaving Wicked’s Rest for that long (yes, just a couple of days), of not being able to watch and keep things in check - crept up his spine like an unscratchable itch.Summer was still a few months away, and who was to say that no disaster would happen between now and then. With a long exhale, he tilted his head against the treehouse wall. “We’ll see,” he said, voice even, unreadable. He took a look at her. Maybe he’d see disappointment, or maybe she’d watch him like she knew something.

__

She knew what his reaction would be. She could predict many of his reactions, after all, but wasn’t that what best friends did? He knew her freakishly well sometimes, and except for a couple missteps, he was one of the only people she could honestly say she’d never promise bound too much. He wouldn’t want to get away from things, from his studies and how deeply serious he was about everything. She liked her work, and she liked studying and reading but Henri took “serious about academics” to a whole other level. Universe, even.

But they were different, and that was why being best friends clicked so well for them. Opposites attract, or, in this case, become best friends. Which was its own sort of attraction, and there were plenty of stories about best friends. Friendship was the ultimate antithesis to evil, after all, and Estella considered herself lucky and well-armed with the friendships that she had. Particularly Henri and Talia.

“We’ll see.” She nodded, raising an eyebrow. There was always more unsaid than said with Henri, and even if she found it frustrating at times, it was part of what she loved most about him. “We can put a pin in it for now. I want to talk to you anyhow, not about wherever I’m taking you this summer.” She grabbed a fork and dug into the Pad Thai. “This is so good. I have plates, if you want?” Estella said, mouth full before swallowing and adding, “or we can share. It’s not as easy to share as pizza, but we can make anything work!”

__

Henri watched Estella dig into the Pad Thai with the kind of enthusiasm that made it obvious she’d already decided they were sharing, no matter what he would have to say about it. He exhaled, barely shaking his head, but there was a flicker of something at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile, but close enough.

Since he wouldn’t have called himself a germophobe, and this was hardly the first time they shared their food (or stole shamelessly from the other’s plate), he just picked up a pair of disposable chopsticks from the bag and dug in. Henri found it interesting the way Estella managed a way to cross lines he didn’t even realize he had created. It was one of the million things about her that made him feel less like himself—or maybe more like himself, in ways he wasn’t sure he wanted to truly acknowledge.

As expected, the food tasted great, but it wasn’t what interested him the most right now. I want to talk to you anyhow. That was what mattered to him. 

Was there something wrong? 

He knew that even though they were sitting in a landmark of their childhood, sharing dinner and having a casual conversation made him all a bit suspicious (though he didn’t suspect anything bad coming from her), because he just couldn’t help himself. “Talk about what?” He set down his elbows on his knees, idly spinning his chopsticks as he quietly added: “Is everything okay?” 

__

She caught his not-smile-but-near-smile. It was a win, and she’d take it. It wasn’t anything new, but a certain self-centered part of her would always feel proud that she could get Henri to smile. Also, she was really hungry. She hadn’t quite realized just how hungry she was until the first bite of Pad Thai hit her mouth and then she had to take another couple forkfuls before she could refocus on her friend.

He grabbed chopsticks and she shook out her hair with a satisfied smile.Good. She never wanted to disappoint him. Henri was, in fact, one of the people whose approval Estella constantly wanted to have. It wasn’t the longest of lists, and certain people were notably absent from it (aka her dad – usually), but Henri was the very top of the list, probably.

“Oh – yeah! Stuff’s fine! I just wanted to talk. I don’t know. Tell me a history fact. Or I can tell you about the show I watched last week. Or the three I started but didn’t finish. I just want to chat. It’s not bad.” She nudged his leg with the toe of her shoe. “It’s really not. I promise.” He didn’t know the extent of what her promises meant, but he did have to know that she’d never broken one. “Also, when can I make you watch Wicked again?”

__

Henri didn't answer straight away. You could not say that chit chat or casual conversation was his favorite. It was easier to search on burial rites through the Bronze Age than it was to respond to his best friend saying she just wanted to talk, not because he didn't want to talk to her, but rather because he did. Estella had her way of asking for things without demanding and slipping right past all his defense lines with a smile or a nudge of her foot. She made him softer, and that was not something he ever gave permission for.

Clearing his throat, he leaned his head back against the wooden wall and sighed as he thought about it. "A history fact, huh?" He repeated, mildly. "Uh… did you know that in ancient Rome, purple dye was so expensive it was basically illegal for anyone but emperors to wear it? It came from a kind of sea snail." He shrugged. "It took thousands of those. Disgusting process." Was that the best fact to spout out while having dinner? Maybe not, but it took a lot more than that to make his stomach churn. And that's when he took another bite.

Then, the young man looked up from the food, one brow raised like she’d asked something dangerous. A corner of his mouth tugged, not quite a smile, but something that lived in the same realm. "Wicked again?" he repeated, tone light but his gaze lingering a little too long before dropping back to his bowl. "I guess I can survive that. But only if you actually finish one of those shows you start—and only if you promise not to cry-sing your way through ‘Defying Gravity’ again." He nudged her ankle gently with his foot, like a counterbalance to the teasing. "Fair trade, right?"

__

Henri made her feel calm, even when she might have otherwise been anxious. It was amazing, and she credited their long friendship with why it was this way. It was either that or magic, and she was pretty sure Henri couldn’t do magic. Besides, friendship was truly its own sort of magic, wasn’t it? That was what all the stories confirmed.

“I didn’t. That is gross though. Not to mention, I feel bad for the poor snails!” Estella frowned. The idea of hurting any animal made her feel sick - which was, perhaps, at least part of the reason why she’d wound up with so many pets of her own. The idea of them being sad or coming to any harm was unimaginable. “Well, I’m glad purple isn’t so hard to come by now! It’s a very lovely color and my socks are even that color!” She grinned, again, because Henri understood her, and cared about her, and that was the best thing she could hope to have.

“Yes. Again. Also in November you’re coming to part two with me. Just so we’re clear.” She doubted that any of that wouldn’t be clear, but she also did enjoy bossing Henri around sometimes. Never anything bad, but just all in good fun. “Fine. I’ll finish a show.” That wasn’t getting a promise. “I’ve only started… well. The number isn’t important. Do you have recommendations on which one? I’ll show you all my streaming services.” She giggled and rolled her eyes at the next comment. “Fine. I – won’t cry-sing ‘Defying Gravity’ again.” Also not a promise, because in the event that she did do just that, Estella didn’t want to ruin their movie night by getting sick. “Can’t say the same thing about ‘I’m Not that Girl’, though.” She thought for a moment, “we could also go to Italy, if you wanted?”

__

Henri’s chopsticks froze in midair, the bite of tofu paused halfway to his mouth.

Italy.

She knew what she was doing. Of course she did.

His first instinct was to play it cool, to nod and brush it off once again, but the flicker of excitement that sparked in his chest betrayed him. It was not just the ruins and sun-drenched landscapes that he found appealing —though that was part of it. It was the way Italy kept its history layered in its soil like a magnificent sfogliatella. He’d studied it for years (Italy’s history, not the sfogliatella), dreamt of standing where ancient, legendary scholars once did and trace those lines in the stones with his own fingers. 

He finally looked up from the pad thai, eyes locking with hers. Serious, yes—but softer, a kind of quiet reverence blooming in his voice.

“Italy,” he said, as if he did not trust a word of that. “You’re not joking?”

He didn’t smile, exactly—but there was a shift in his expression, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to hint at how much the idea meant to him. He set down the chopsticks and leaned back a little against the treehouse wall, his gaze briefly distant.

“I’ve wanted to go since I was… eight years old. Pompeii. Ostia Antica. Even the lesser-known sites, the ones no one writes about in the guidebooks.” He exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t be a vacation for me. Not really.”

Then, quieter, more tentative, “But with you… maybe it could be.”

He reached out, nudged her shoe with his own in a subtle, rare moment of affection.

“I’ll help you finish one show,” he added dryly. “And you’re absolutely going to cry-sing anyway. I’ve accepted this.” With a playful roll of his eyes, Henri finished his bite and set down his chopsticks to get his phone out, because that was just a bad habit at this point. He had to make sure no one had tried to call or text him. 

__

She didn’t smile when his chopsticks froze, because that would have been unkind, and she didn’t want to ever be considered that, especially not by Henri. He was the foremost authority on this sort of thing, probably. Or perhaps Estella was simply keen on thinking highly of Henri in any capacity (that part was absolutely true, but that didn’t mean the other thing wasn’t possible. Many things were possible, so long as you believed strongly enough in them.

“I’m not! I know I do joke sometimes but not about this. Not if something matters to you. Or to Aoife, or Mickey, or Talia, but especially you. You’re my favorite.” Her stomach didn’t hurt, which made her smile just a bit brighter. She hadn’t intended it to be a lie, but this was nice confirmation that it really wasn’t. “I’d love to go to Italy with you. I want to eat like a hundred pizzas and gelato and go for walks with you and hear you talk about all the stuff you know. Maybe I’ll try and pick up some Italian before we go.

He smiled in the way only she’d recognize as a smile. Good. He was happy, which made her happy. “But would you have a good time? Because that’s all that matters to me. It’s okay if you work. I’ve long since accepted that this is who you are. You were like this when I was a toddler.” Estella raised an eyebrow, rolling it into an eyeroll. But a kind one, one of amusement rather than frustration.

“I’m happy to make anything a vacation.” She flashed up a peace sign before grabbing another forkful of Pad Thai. 

“What show? I’m into Parks and Rec, Superstore, Abbott Elementary, also Grey’s Anatomy. I tried out SVU and also Criminal Minds but they made me too stressed out. People in it are mean. There’s probably others I’m forgetting?? Do you remember?” She shook her head. “That’s true, I am. I am glad you’ve accepted me for who I am.” She looked over to him looking down at his phone, “anything interesting?”

__

How could someone say something so sweet and yet still sound sincere? From anyone else, it would have come off as a line. Even Aoife, who couldn’t shut up to save her own life, would have made it sound like some joke. Not Estella. It felt as though calling him her favorite was the same as saying the sky was blue or that Pad Thai was even better the next day. It was a fact, and that was how she meant it.

And so he didn’t say anything. He just looked into the distance, his lips pressed together and his chest warm in that annoying way he never knew how to handle. 

“I think,” Henri finally said, taking a deep breath as he picked at a peanut on the edge of the container. “I think I’d like that. Italy, I mean.” He flicked his gaze toward her, the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Though I’m well aware, gelato will forever ruin American gelato for me.” 

The peace sign made him roll his eyes, in exasperation rather than annoyance. She did have a way to bring sunshine wherever she went, even when she cried because a rock looked lonely according to her. (Yes, he did end up bringing said rock back to his house. Yes, the rock still sat on a shelf nowadays.) 

“I hope I don’t ruin Italy by being... me. I’m not great at vacationing.” His tone softened, honest in a way he usually reserved for quiet nights or Estella in particular. “But I’ll try. If you’re there.”

The only message he had received was from his mother, who was asking whether they should expect him to drop by the house later tonight. “Just my mom. Yes, I will tell her you said hi,” because he knew that was what she was going to say next. “Parks and Recs is too long. Grey's Anatomy is too long. Don’t know about Superstore and the other one though. You can pick one of these. I guess.”

__

Sometimes she wished Henri knew she was physically incapable of lying. She’d told him she didn’t lie a fair few times but she figured he’d always taken it as her just not wanting to lie. Not that she literally couldn’t. Still, he took her compliments, and that was good. Good enough for now. Which she’d settle for, because all that really mattered was that Henri was in her life.

“Bet, okay! I’ll come over, or you can come over to my place sometime, and we’ll get tickets.” She’d say how they’d be first class once they’d chosen them. That way it would at least somewhat of a reduction in his telling her no. Besides, you could sleep better in first class, and she meant no shade at all, but Henri looked like he needed to sleep for a hundred years. Like Sleeping Beauty, though she wasn’t about to make that comparison to his face. “Probably, but it’s okay. It’s not like America really makes proper gelato anyways. I think we’d have to try nearly every flavor at whatever shops we can find. Unless that’s too wild.” She scrunched up her nose, not a note of sarcasm present. She didn’t want to push Henri too far – him agreeing to come on what was definitely a vacation even if he didn’t call it that was a big win, and she’d be chill about other things if need be. At least she’d attempt to be, externally. Internally was a whole other story.

Estella couldn’t help but grin at his eyeroll. It was endearing – at least to her. She knew other people might find it off-putting, but there wasn’t a single thing about her best friend that was off-putting to her.

“Well, I will absolutely be there, and you’re my friend, you’re not gonna ruin a trip by being you! Never. Impossible. I’ll hold your hand if you want. We can take baby steps into this. Eat gelato while you tell me important history facts, walk around important places while I get you to wear a bracelet that has some color… you know. The basics.” 

“Good, thank you! She’s pretty cool, and also respect to her dedication to Cher. I know I did make her watch the second Mamma Mia movie but like, the Cher of it all was a nice surprise, I think!” She tapped her fingers against her thigh. “Superstore’s like, six seasons I think? Abbott Elementary’s finished up its fourth season. If you’re talking about SVU though, I think that has like ten kajillion seasons, so probably not good. Or we can watch a miniseries. Netflix keeps recommending these ones about Haunting to me. Though I guess that would mean starting something new, so…”

__

Henri could keep himself from snorting at the mention of a bracelet with some color but he didn’t try to argue about it. Maybe he should have but he knew better than to fight Estella on her vision. If she wanted to dress him up like a tourist Barbie, she would have to earn it, one accessory at a time because the thought of him walking around Rome in ridiculously expensive sunglasses with a bright turquoise bead bracelet on his wrist and a colorful touristy tee shirt on ? That was not how he saw himself spending that weekend.

“I’m not wearing a bright bracelet,” he said flatly, “but if it’s like…a muted color, we’ll talk. You’re pushing your luck, though.”

Still, his tone lacked any real sharpness. That was the thing about Estella—she could get him to do things. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the way she asked, or because she made them sound fun, or perhaps because he didn’t actually mind as much as he pretended to.

“Gelato, however ? No questions asked.” Though he would draw the line at colorful gelato of course. Not because he was that intense about colors, but rather because he knew it would only take only a few trips to the ice cream parlor for her to notice that detail. Still, even if she tried to verbally sugar coat her comment, Henri took note of it. He picked at an imaginary lint on his trousers as he responded. “Thanks. I know I’m not… easy, sometimes.” If he didn't like how that came out, he didn't say. The last thing he wanted was to linger on the parts of his life he couldn't discuss. 

“No bazillion seasons shows. They’re a black hole I refuse to be sucked in. You pick something short. 10 episodes a season or less. And if it has jump scares, we can't be friends anymore.”

A pause.

“Besides what do you mean if I want. You better hold my hand before the bracelet. That’s, like, the order of things.”

[hollow--sun]

🕒 When: Late June 📍 Where: Estella’s house 👥 With Whom: Estella Hartmann @irlsunbeam and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun 🔹 Summary: Henri visits Estella’s house, bringing books and honey, and is immediately claimed by her cat before being introduced to her newest pet, a haggis named Oberon.

Henri stood at the foot of the path that led to Estella’s house. It was big — too big — for one person, but somehow, it suited her, maybe because she had that sort of presence. Shifting the canvas tote on his shoulder (full of books she had asked for and a jar of wildflower honey from the market), Henri approached the front door which opened before he even reached it. 

Inside was, as usual, a familiar riot of light, color and orchestrated chaos. The scent of flowers, along with something wooly clung to the air, and the moment he stepped inside, Baba Yaga launched herself onto the back of his coat and began climbing up toward his shoulder with determined grace. He sighed and let her. She had the kind of authority that made resistance feel futile. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn’t used to cats.

He dropped the tote on the floor, narrowly missing one of the vegetable lambs that seemed to have claimed this specific spot as their napping spot. It blinked at him like he was the intruder. Henri blinked back, unimpressed. 

Passing through the room, he picked up the cat off his shoulder and held it in his arms while he searched for Estella. There were a few teacups cluttering the kitchen counter, along with a handwritten letter addressed to “The Grand Worm Council.” Okay. 

If not the kitchen, then the sunroom, he thought, making his way there.

__

Henri had agreed to come by her house. Which he usually did, that wasn’t anything new, but that didn’t diminish how good it always felt. She supposed that was the magic of friendship – how even routine things and regular feelings could feel so incredible just because of who someone was. Estella had made baked ziti and put it out on the table in the sunroom, where she currently stood, trying to get Obie (she figured using a nickname was okay) to sit on command. If only because she was very fond of taking photos of all her animals and it was probably easier to do that if they didn’t all go moving around a lot.

Her success was a work-in-progress, but she had discovered that for whatever reason, Obie really liked when she spoke in Japanese, and she didn’t quite understand why, but it was a pretty neat discovery and she wasn’t about to question it even one bit.

She heard Henri’s familiar footsteps and jumped up, pressing a kiss to her fingers and then onto Obie’s head, and she walked over to her friend; Charming was on her shoulder, sunning in more ways than one. “Hi! I see Baba Yaga has once again claimed you as her favorite. No matter how much I bribe her, I think you really are the one she loves most. Which, fine. I’m only a bit offended by that.” She motioned over to where the haggis stood, “this is Obie!! Oh, I also made baked ziti. If you’re hungry.”

__

Henri had only just stepped out of his shoes when Estella’s voice caught him mid-thought— somewhere between what did I just step on and that salamander is definitely watching me. 

He looked up to find her walking toward him, sunlight catching in her hair, a tiny lizard lounging like royalty on her shoulder. Baba Yaga remained anchored to his own, purring with faint menace.

He exhaled through his nose, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I did not have much of a choice here.” Raising his hand, Henri scratched just under Baba’s jaw, rewarded immediately by a low, pleased trill. Mrrrp. “Love or spiritual ownership?” 

His eyes drifted to the haggis—a ridiculous sentence even in his head—and took in the stout creature and its expression that seemed both noble and mildly inconvenienced. He gave a small, formal nod toward the haggis. “Henri. It’s an honor.”

“Also, yes. I’m always hungry,” he added, finally stepping fully into the sunroom. The smell of baked ziti hit him like a warm memory— cheese, herbs, and a hint of whatever spices Estella might’ve brought into it. 

Looking around, Henri let his shoulders drop, allowing himself at last to relax. The plants were thriving. The sun was shining. The guinea pigs were chirping in their weird little language. 

“I brought your book back,” he said, gesturing toward the bag he’d left at the door. “Also—something for the worms. Market scraps.”

He gave her a brief, sideways glance—subtle but soft. “Hi, by the way.”

__

“I thought people always had a choice. Isn’t that some sort of philosophical principle?” She wasn’t too stressed about it one way or the other, but talking about serious literary things was something that helped Henri regulate himself. Not that he usually needed to when she was around, but helping somebody would never ever be a bad choice.

Especially when that person was your best friend in the whole wide world.

A shrug. “Love, I think. The answer to all things should be love. That’s what saves people in stories, and I believe that that is what can save people outside of stories, too.”

Estella beamed when Henri introduced himself to Oberon. Even if he found her flighty and with her mind going in more directions that should be possible for a person (maybe it was a cool fae ability – faebility. ha.) “He’s pleased to meet you too. He thinks you are a good friend. Or, well, I figure he does. ‘Cause I do, and he seems to like what I think.”

“I know you’re always hungry, Henri. It’s been a thing since I was a toddler and you were a preschooler. Maybe even before, but I don’t remember before that.” She couldn’t remember everything, even though it would have been an exceptionally neat sort of power to have. Though it would be a super tiring power on top of it all. So maybe it was a good thing that she couldn’t remember absolutely everything. In fact, oftentimes if it wasn’t something of particular interest to her, she forgot it more easily than she would’ve liked.

“So, two ladle-fuls? I’ll eat with you. Something about seeing what sort of successful cheese-pull I’ve created is very tempting. Or, well, close to a cheese pull, since this isn’t a mozzarella stick or grilled cheese but I think it counts!!” She scratched Oberon’s head as she listened to Henri. 

“Oh, good. Did you find the book useful? I figured you might be interested in an annotated Welsh book about dragons, even if they are not what you research. I can lend you one about ancient words and communication if you’d like??” 

He’d remembered the worms too.

“Hey.” She glanced back over to him. 

__

Henri’s lips parted slightly — his expression stuck somewhere between surprise and amusement — as she began talking of philosophy as though she was not carrying a lizard on her shoulder and had a myth worthy sheep-creature standing at her feet. 

If he did not laugh, his eyes wrinkled faintly. “You’re thinking Sartre, I think. Or… Kierkegaard?” A pause. “I thought we said no philosophy outside of office hours.” 

He stepped further into the sunroom, Baba Yaga still laying across his collarbone. “Love is a good answer,” he said after a second, a little more quietly. 

He didn’t say thank you—he almost never did, not directly—but it was there in the way he looked at her. The quiet gravity he only wore around people who made him feel safe. Henri crouched slightly to meet Oberon at eye level again, hands clasped loosely in front of him as though he was preparing to give testimony. “Appreciate the vote of confidence,” he told the haggis solemnly. “Your taste is impeccable.”

 At the mention of his childhood appetite, Henri huffed—a sound between indignation and surrender. “I was growing. And cursed with a metabolism forged in the bowels of hell.” Which, of course, she would never need to know more about. A hunter’s metabolism was no joke. 

He followed her toward the food, loosening his posture a fraction with each step. Her house was like that. Or maybe she was. Disarming in a thousand small ways. “Two ladle-fuls sounds legally binding. And yes—I would like to witness the ziti’s structural integrity for myself.”

He settled into one of the chairs—wicker, warm from the sun—and cast a glance toward the salamanders climbing a nearby terrarium wall with stubborn intent. 

“I like the book,” he said, nodding. “I even took notes.” He looked over at her then, catching the way she’d said hey like it meant more than it seemed. He held her gaze for a second, letting the moment settle between them like soft light on the floorboards. “How have you been doing?”

__

She stood, barefoot, in the sunroom, with a handful of her pets around and her best friend in front of her. The two of them were so different, at least based on first glance, but something about them worked. It always had, and Estella hoped it would forever. Or at least for Henri’s human version of forever. Which was, what, a hundred years? She wouldn’t settle for less.

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned, sly, “sorry doctor. Can I call you that yet? I can call Mickey that even though he’s not officially one yet because of, like, the proper procedure… so I think I should be able to call you one too. Even if you aren’t graduated with a doctorate yet. I like that my two favorite men are doctors. It’s very cool!” She shook her head proudly.

Again, he talked to Oberon as though he was just anyone else. Her friend’s kindness never failed to put her at ease. Even if he thought the whole situation ridiculous, he accepted it much like he accepted her – even her random tendency to show up in his high school classes when she got bored of her own and needed something to do.

His huffing only made her grin grow all the wider. “Well yes, but that doesn’t make it any less true! You were growing. Now you’re so much taller than me.” Which wasn’t any sort of fault, or anything bad, just objective truth, and the sort of truth she was proud of, and would’ve clung to even if she wasn’t allowed to only tell the truth. Henri was a good person and good friend, and she felt herself glow just a little bit brighter whenever she was around him.

“It’s not legally binding, but I like that I make it sound that professional. You’re welcome to judge its structural integrity all you want! I encourage it, and would love constructive feedback if you’re into that.” She spooned some pasta onto two plates for each of them and carried the plates over before she sat across from Henri. “I added extra oregano this time. Debating basil next time… what do you think?”

He was asking her how she was again. Estella really didn’t understand how people could ever see Henri as someone cold and uncaring when it was obvious just how much he did care. “One – glad you liked the book and that you took notes. Two – I’ve been pretty good! It’s almost summer which is my favorite, as you know, and I’m hanging out with you? I feel very lucky and very spoiled.” She paused a beat, “but my dad is still a jerk. Which, not anything new, but still just as frustrating. How are you?”

___

Henri looked up at Estella as she spoke, the familiar cadence of her voice pulling something small and soft into his chest like the echo of a bell. There were still things he didn’t understand about her—never would, maybe—but she was one of very few people who made his life feel less... utilitarian. Less like a task to complete and more like something to experience.

“You’ll get to call me doctor when the only good use I have for my thesis is evening out a wobbly table.” A pause, and a warm smile. “You’ll get to borrow said thesis for your own furniture if you want, do not fret.”

He forked into the pasta slowly, as if testing its temperature, but more likely just buying himself a second to think. “The oregano’s good. Bright, kind of peppery. Basil could work if you want it softer. Sweeter.” A short pause. “I trust your instincts. You always know what fits.” 

His gaze flicked to her as she admitted her father was still being difficult. That, at least, was a constant—an infuriating, immovable one—but not a surprise. His fork stilled against the plate.

“I’m sorry he’s still making things hard,” he said, his voice quieter. “You deserve better than that. You always have.”

Unfortunately, Henri did not know how to make things easier for his friend, not when it came down to her father. But he could be here. He could sit at her table, eat her pasta, answer her questions, and ask his in return.

“I’m alright,” he said, at last. “Busy. Which is good, for the most part. Siobhan’s got me grading freshman essays like my soul depends on it.” A grimace, faint and half-humored. “And I’ve been sketching again. Dig sites. Concepts. Haven’t shown anyone, don’t plan to. It’s just… nice. Having a thing that doesn’t need to prove anything.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, as though debating whether to say the next part. Then: “Seeing you helps. More than I usually admit. So thanks—for this. For the pasta. For being around.”

Stabbing another bite off his plate with his fork, he nudged her foot under the table to catch her attention. “And thanks for not calling me doctor or professor.”

___

They were near opposites, and always had been, but that didn’t diminish the appreciation that either one of them had for the other. Perhaps, on some level, it only served to increase appreciation. Which didn’t necessarily make logical sense, but it was a fact (she didn’t get a stomachache when she said it out loud), and it was one that Estella held tight against her chest, proud of it.

“Good, I look forward to borrowing the thesis. It will be cool that two of the most ever important people in my life will both be doctors one day. Though very different. But it still makes me proud.” She beamed. The successes of her loved ones never failed to make her feel just a bit brighter. After all, Mickey had saved her in the snow and so there was one positive thing about snow and ice – it had given her a brother – not like in the folktale – but nonetheless vital.

Estella nodded, eyebrows knit in what appeared to be a serious fashion – and it was. Mostly. She took all of Henri’s thoughts and opinions very much to heart, they mattered more than most did. “Basil is always good, yeah. I wonder if I could do some sort of margherita pizza inspired thing – bake the pasta, then add sauce and cheese – and then basil, too?” She nodded, mostly to herself this time. “Something to consider for the future.”

“He’s always been this way.” She didn’t say out loud that she felt like his feelings of shame toward her only grew the older she got. The less able to be controlled that she was. Not that Estella had ever been a particularly easy to control child, but when she lived on her own and not in her parents’ house, it made everything more difficult on her father. Which she relished, but there had to be balance, as much as she didn’t want there to be. So his disapproval skyrocketed, but there wasn’t too much he could do about it.

“I’m glad you have things you don’t have to show to others. You know I never think you need to prove anything, but I know you like to prove everything, and so this is a compromise I can comfortably make.”

“I’ll be around, like, forever, so you never have to worry about that. You’re my best friend and you’ve always been there for me. You make me feel safe.” She pulled one of her legs towards her chest. “Always have.”

___

Henri fell quiet. 

Not that he didn’t want to talk to Estella anymore. He felt like that would never happen, but because something in what she said had tickled a part of him older than his acquisition of logic or strategy, a part that had always existed. He stared at the ziti in his plate hoping it would absorb emotion, then he set down his fork, pushed his sleeves up past his elbows, in a nervous motion. 

“Estella, you’re the only person aside from my family I feel completely known by,” he said eventually, quietly, as though he worried his words might be heard by the sunroom. “And despite that, you still like me. That means the world.” 

His gaze flicked toward her eyes, gentle yet sheepish.

“And you know I’m proud of you too. Not just for the cooking experiments, and certainly not for the extreme rodent adoptions.” He sighed. “Just… For being who you are, consistently, despite everything happening in this town, despite people not always deserving of you being so warm.” 

He reached out, nudged her socked foot with his own under the table—casual, familiar, anchoring. “And yes, margherita ziti does sound amazing. You should patent it before someone else does.” His smile grew, but it didn’t reach his ears, because he couldn’t say it back. He couldn’t promise that he would be here forever. He could be dead tonight, and she would never know what happened. 

___

Henri grew quiet, and perhaps Estella should have been put on edge, but this was who he was.

He was the calm to her storm, the balance to her on a scale. They were so well matched that way – even if someone looking in on them might have wondered how the two of them became friends and moreover, how they had stayed friends. They’d gotten looks throughout all of their friendship that ranged from assuming far more lewd things about the two of them, to just flat out disbelief that they liked one another at all. 

But as Henri so often pointed out, they got each other, and that was all that mattered, in the long run. He was one of the smartest people she knew (though she knew a lot of smart people), and he also said things with such conviction that she simply had to believe him. Believing him made her feel good, and feeling good was one of Estella’s favorite feelings in the world.

“I’m glad I get to know you. You’re an incredibly beautiful person in so many ways, and I’m privileged to know each and every part of you.” She could be quieter around him – which said enough – it said that she could sit in silence and that she was so deeply comfortable with him. They didn’t need to do much to feel at peace. They could communicate without any true effort, they fit together so well, and it was meant to be.

Estella looked down at her lap at Henri’s compliments. “Thank you. Hey, listen, the rodents and other animals need a home, and why shouldn’t I give them that? I can, and I’m lucky to be able to, plus they’re cute! I – thanks. Again.” She scrunched up her nose. “For – for knowing me and still loving me, despite everything.”

She nodded. “I’ll see about patenting. Maybe I’ll try it out first, just in case it’s a culinary disaster.” He didn’t say he’d be here forever back, and though she knew he wouldn’t be around for literal ever, part of her wanted to promise-bind him into living the longest life he possibly could. But that was also cruel, because if something went awry, she didn’t want him to feel any sort of pain. Henri didn’t deserve that.

___

The words she said weren’t new. Not really. Estella had always said things like that—earnest things, things other people might have flinched away from. She handed out affection like sunbeams, like it cost her nothing, and he had long since stopped questioning whether he deserved it or not. There was no point in telling her he did not, even if he often felt it to be true.

He only worried, sometimes, whether he could return it properly. Whether she knew what her words did to him.

“Estel…” he said, soft.

He cleared his throat.

“I don’t think I’m always beautiful. I don’t think I’m even often beautiful.” He didn’t mean to discuss what she was telling him, but while he never questioned her intent, or the fact that she believed every word she said, Henri simply could not do the same thing. 

“I love you too. Despite nothing. There’s no despite. That’s not even in the equation.”

Henri leaned back in his chair, let his head tip against the wall behind him. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, brow furrowed like he was working through something complicated, and then, in his usual dry tone:

“If the margherita-ziti experiment kills me, just tell the press I died doing what I loved. Supporting my best friend’s culinary madness. Make me sound noble.” Maybe he was not the best at accepting compliments, or worse, accepting that they could be facts and not flattery, but he would be damned if he ever let Estella feel bad about being the human equivalent of a sunflower.

___

Estella wrinkled her nose at Henri’s comment (or rather, she wrinkled it in her mind, because she didn’t want to offend Henri. It probably wouldn’t have offended him, but she wasn’t going to take a chance on any of that. “I mean, you don’t have to think you are! That’s fine, but it’s what I think.” She shrugged. “We have different ways of thinking about things, and this seems to be another example of that, probably.” She wouldn’t let herself get worried unless things got too extreme. Then she’d worry, and of course Henri would be one of the first ever people she’d start to worry about.

He was her best friend, after all. It only made sense she’d worry about him.

“Despite nothing.” Her smile was, as always, soft. “I –” she swallowed. “It’s – thanks.” Because she knew she was a lot (or at least she’d been called as much), and Henri didn’t usually vibe with ‘a lot’, but they were the bestest of best friends. Balanced, perfectly. Which further proved the point that the two of them had been meant to meet. Not only meant to meet, but meant to become best friends.

It meant everything to her, and Henri meant everything to her.

“I think you sound plenty noble most of the time, but one – you are not dying. I appreciate your unending dedication to supporting my supposed madness though. Means a lot that I can always count on you.” She picked up Charming from her shoulder. “Do you wanna hold him?”

___

Henri offered the faintest smile : just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, there and gone again in a flicker. This was always how his joy had been, fleeting, secretive, hidden.

“You’re right. We do think differently,” he said. “But I’ve stopped trying to argue with you about your opinions of me. You’re more stubborn than you look.”

That was a compliment. He hoped that she knew that, by now.

The words “meant to meet” stuck like sweet warm toffee to his heart. She meant it with every bit of herself, he could tell, because she always meant everything with her whole heart. And he trusted her heart more than most things in the world.

Henri looked over at the small sunlit bearded dragon in her hand. Charming. He still wondered how the lizard came to have such a name, although he suspected that Estella enjoyed having a pet that enjoyed the sun as much as she did, and therefore decided the name to be very fitting. 

He held out his own hand without hesitation, his palm steady and fingers open like the quiet trust he gave so few people.

“Yeah. I’ll hold him.”

His tone was still, calm, like nothing about this moment was unusual ; but it was unusual, in a way. Not the act of holding the lizard. That was just physics and warmth. But the fact that he could sit here, surrounded by animals and sun, beside someone who cared for him unconditionally, and not feel like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

That was rare.

“Tell him I won’t drop him,” Henri added, then glanced sidelong at her. “Even if he starts climbing up my neck. I’ll allow it. Out of respect.”

__

Henri’s joy was always small – he didn’t make a big show of things and sometimes Estella made a bigger deal out of everything when compared to him. Not that she minded. 

He called her more stubborn than she looked and she wished he knew everything that she was, because that made her want to burst in joy. “You know it.” She grinned instead, offering him a wink. He knew her and he appreciated her and that was all that mattered. 

That much and he knew she could be stubborn if the occasion called for it. Which further proved how much he knew her, and she wasn’t sure how to find the words in any of the languages that she knew to clarify just how important that was to her. How much that meant.

Plus, he wanted to hold Charming. Which was amazing.

Estella took Charming off of her own shoulder and gave his nose a kiss before placing him on Henri’s hand.

“Charming, this is Henri. He’s the best person ever. He’s not gonna drop you. He knows how to keep people safe and that means he knows how to keep animals like you safe too.” She stepped back, regarding the two of them with a soft smile. 

“I knew he’d love you! I mean, he knows I love you, so why wouldn’t he?”

____

“The best person ever,” Henri repeated, with a saccharine tone that couldn’t have possibly been mistaken as honesty, not when he emphasized it with a faux hair flip. Well, double hair flip, if only because she had forced him to sit through Wicked and he begrudgingly had to admit to not having had a terrible time watching a musical, and well, he also begrudgingly seemed to have adopted one of Glinda’s trademark moves, if only to make his best friend smile some more. 

The lizard’s skin felt, as per usual, a bit weird to the touch, but compared to some of the things he had been confronted to, had fought or been covered with — Cough. Lollusc guts. Cough. And that was only the more recent one — this really felt like a walk in the park. He decided to carry it in his arms like you would a baby, the lizard’s belly resting on his forearms, while its head found a place against his biceps. 

“How can you tell that he loves me?” Looking down at the albeit grim creature, he then glanced at Estella, who seemed more than happy with the turn of events. As per usual. 

“He looks jaded and unimpressed by the situation,” he commented. Truth be told, he appreciated that sort of stoicism in someone. 

This was why he loved his cat so much. Livy went on with his day as he pleased and when he returned home, he was independent about it too. So what if he failed to mention that the nights he slept the best were those when his cat decided to sleep next to his pillow and lull him to sleep with his purring? 

____

Henri put up with a lot. She knew she was a lot. Her father had told her that dozens of times, and as much as she loathed what he was, if he’d said that so many times, there had to be some truth to it. It was why Henri didn’t know she was fae, because he seemed just fine with her as she was, but one wrong step and she could potentially ruin everything they had.

That would be unforgivable. 

His hair flip did make her smile — and she recognized it, commenting, “we’re still on for Part Two in November, right?”

“I can tell that he loves you because he’s at peace. He’s calm and not scrambling away. Not everyone’s love needs to be so flashy, right?” Estella winked. Anyone else might have taken Henri’s next comment as an insult, but she didn’t. She knew him like she knew herself. Not the back of her hand — that expression didn’t seem to describe just how deep she knew him and he knew her. Except, of course, the fae thing. So his comment was a compliment. 

“Maybe I did take that into account. You’re the most princely person I know, and his name is Charming, so…” her voice trailed off, letting the quiet envelop the both of them. Even though he was a little bit older than she was, she’d always managed to get him to play games with her when she was younger. Him having a sister who was even a smidgen younger than she was probably worked in her favor. She hadn’t shown Aoife gratitude for all of that. 

She held up another ladleful of pasta. “Want seconds?”

___

The exasperation was feigned, though Henri rolled his eyes at the idea. “Yes, we’re still on for Part Two,” because there weren’t many things he wouldn’t have been up to if it was with her. Including petting a lizard. 

“I still think that you ought to stop adopting new pets. I can’t remember how many you have any more,” adjusting the animal in his arms, taking a better look at him. Love shaped like calm. That sounded like his dad. His dad wasn’t the sort to tell you that he loved you, but he was always here, he always made time, and he listened to you. More often than not, he didn’t offer solutions, but Henri still considered him the one person he could count on no matter what the situation. 

“Oh I’m princely?” Maybe he looked princely, with the fair skin and the blonde hair, the education, the poise and the passion for neutral colors, but Estella did not need to know about the rest, about the hunts, and the skeletons in the closet, about the blood on his hands, about the thoughts that kept him awake at night, or worse yet, the thoughts that managed to make him fall asleep. She couldn’t know. Nothing would be the same if she ever were to know. 

He was her best friend, and everything could be normal for a bit, as long as he was here. So of course he tried to make every second count. “Sure.”