Chapter Text
In every tiny town, there’s the one family-owned mom-and-pop joint that, as far as anyone can remember, has always existed. Whether it’s a diner, a dive bar, a gas station, or a sandwich shop, everyone knows and loves it. In Lodestar Grove, a tiny speck of a town with a whopping 1000-or-so residents at most, that hub was Lucenere’s, a classic chrome-white-and- retro-blue, vaguely trailer-shaped diner with neon signage and the smallest parking lot in the country. It was run by the one and only Alerion “Lucenare” Gilded, a descendant of the town founders and one of the most beloved people in the community. Whereas his other siblings had either left for bigger pastures or tainted themselves in less-than-respectable politics, Alerion put his life and soul into the community and into the people. Lucenare’s was the town gathering place - teenage meetups after school, business meetings, birthdays, anniversaries, even a wedding reception or two back in the day. And every year, when the town festival rolled around, Lucenare’s and the ever-devoted Alerion were there in the middle of the festivities. Alerion was heralded as the true leader of Lodestar Grove, even as their brother Fable was mayor. But nothing lasts forever. People grow old. Times change. Families fall apart. Sons leave.
Good men die.
William Lowmethall was standing on a hotel balcony on the East coast of Spain when he received that fateful call. He’d bought the very next plane ticket home ( home …he hadn’t thought of Lodestar Grove as home in a long, long time) and went straight to the hospital, praying that he wouldn’t be too late.
Standing by the hospital bed, looking one last time upon the age-worn face of his dad, regret wound its way around his heart.
“Dad….” Will choked out, but the rest of the sentence didn’t follow. To be honest, he didn’t even know what the rest would be. An apology? That was probably the most warranted. Yet in the moment, the lump in his throat was too large, too obstructive, for the words he so desperately wanted to say to escape.
But even on their deathbed, Alerion’s eyes glimmered with an otherworldly joy. A frail, trembling hand was placed atop Will’s, an attempt at comfort, at grasping the hand that had slipped away so long ago, before muscles had withered away and strength had begun to fail.
“I am so proud of you, My Son.”
Will couldn’t force down the incredulous sound that left him, a half-sob half-laugh that painfully tore out of his chest unwanted. “That’s not fair-” he managed; he always somehow managed, even when his mind screamed at him to stop speaking he always managed, “-not fair to you, Dad. I left. I know I disappointed you, I saw the look on your face. How can you be proud -”
The self-deprecating tirade was cut off before it could even properly begin as Alerion lifted an arm, slowly as he might, steadily as he could, to reach for his son’s face. Will easily leant down into the touch, confused, eyes brimming with tears, but not about to deny them anything. Not now. Not after everything he’d already done.
“You have done nothing wrong, Will.” the old man said, continuing before Will could protest. “You’ve always had such an adventurous spirit; I could see it ever since you were a little boy. You take after your mother, that way. Vivienne - she was always so curious, always looking for something new to satisfy her thirst for knowledge.”
Will nodded, remembering. “She hated being stuck here, too.”
“She did. She was never one to be tied down to a small town, either. The charm wore off quickly, and she had to move on. She hoped to come back every now and again to see you, but…well, you know what happened.”
Will did know. There was a reason he refused to set foot in Egypt.
“I’m sure she had lots of stories to tell. I wish I got to hear them.” His father smiled.
“I’ll be sure to ask when I see her.”
The reminder of the unfortunate situation they were in crashed into Will in an instant. “Dad, no-”
“Listen, Scout-” oh , he hadn’t heard that nickname in years , “-you need to stay, now. The community needs you.”
The adventurer shook his head. “What, no, Dad, why would…it’s been years, and everyone knows , and-”
“Because I’m leaving Lucenare’s to you, Will.”
The words didn’t register at first. When they did, they settled in his veins like ice and poison. “ What?? No, Dad, there’s no way- I can’t-”
“It’s yours, Son. I’ve already signed the paperwork. The second I pass, ownership of Lucenare’s will pass to you. Elizabeth and I have gone over the details; he’ll give you your copies.”
“ Dad -”
“ Will.” Alerion’s voice was pleading. “I have served this community for many years. It has been my pride and joy, my greatest honor - But time has not been kind to this town. It’s growing stale. The energy is gone, and I am not the one to bring it back. Someone else must lead the way from here. And I know you will do wonderfully, my son.” Their grip on Will’s hand tightened as much as the dying man could force. “You bear your mothers name, a wonderful name, worthy of pride, but you are a Gilded. Our ancestors founded this place to be one of laughter and love and community and peace. Many in the family have lost sight of that goal, many in the town have lost sight of that goal, but we, you , My Son, will bring Lodestar Grove back.”
Tears fell unbidden down Will’s face as he desperately shook his head and begged his dad to reconsider. But Alerion’s mind was made up.
The elder forbade further talk of it for the moment, just wanting to have a nice moment with his son. As the hours passed, their breathing grew rougher and their skin paler and paler, until the final minutes, when Alerion patted Will’s hand to get his attention.
“I said Lodestar Grove was my pride and joy,” he rasped, “but that’s not true. It’s you , William, Scout, my baby boy. Raising you was my greatest honor and greatest achievement, and nothing in this life brought me more joy than seeing you grow.”
Will was unapologetically ugly-sobbing by this point, but could you really blame him? He said nothing, just clung to his father, desperately wishing for more time. But Alerion had a few more parting words of wisdom for him.
“I know you’re not proud of your past decisions. I know you have many regrets. But a life of regrets is not a good life. Our past mistakes don’t make us who we are, but it does give us tools to work with. So take those mistakes and wield them , use them to forge a better future for yourself and others.”
Will could see, feel , Alerion slipping away. He clung ever tighter, nodding and mumbling out as many “I understand”s, “I love you”s, and “I’m sorry”s that he could, though they all came out a rather jumbled mess.
And with a hoarse whispered “I love you so much,” they were gone.
Will left the hospital with a new set of keys, a depressing list of contact information, a cheesy “So you’ve lost a loved one-” grief informational pamphlet, and a cold emptiness in his soul. Standing in the parking lot, staring up at the star-studded night sky that once called to him, teasing him with the thought of novelty and adventure outside of this claustrophobic town, he felt overwhelmingly numb. He wasn’t sure what to do, so when his legs started moving on their own, he didn’t question it, just thankful that it was the middle of the night so no one would question his strange and sudden arrival.
He wasn’t surprised when they carried him to Lucenare’s Diner.
He took a few minutes of trying keys on the front door before one finally slipped into the lock and turned. The second door past the vestibule was already unlocked, saving him the trouble of rifling through the keys again incase it was a different one. Small town, everyone knows everyone, and if it weren’t for Will’s previous experience with a certain cousin’s penchant for trouble as a child, he’d be surprised the exterior door was even locked at all. Bored teens in a tiny town often led to some interesting shenanigans. Still, after traveling the world so long, it came as a bit of a culture shock.
Gods, the inside was just as he remembered it. The greasy smell baked into the walls reminiscent of so many stolen slices of bacon from the kitchen while running plates. The old jukebox, the kind that played off records it was so old, still stood in the corner exactly where he remembered it, the familiar buttons well worn from use. He still remembered his favorite song was on lucky button 7. He used to play it whenever his dad would spare him a dime to put in it, or when he could beg one off a patron or barter for one off another kid. Sometimes the older kids would toss him one if he snuck them something from the back. It was always risky, and he got caught a fair few times. His dad never got mad, though. Just shook his head with an amused sigh and shooed him out. The entire place felt like a memory: the chrome lining the walls, chairs, booths, and bar, the plastic-y vinyl booths lining the wall and the tall stools by the bar that Will used to have to jump to sit on, the posters covering the walls, the display of local fair awards, children’s drawings throughout the years tacked random places, the community bulletin board which often acted more as an official town board than the actual town board in the square. The whole place felt like- not home , necessarily; Lodestar Grove had been home at some point, but as Will had grown, the concept of home had lost its allure. But it felt familiar.
Will slid into the booth in the corner almost on autopilot, his designated spot for many years. He looked down at the chipped paint surface of the table, remembering steaming plates of pancakes and baskets of fries, tall cherry-chocolate milkshakes and ice cream sundaes. Talking with his closest cousin about the future and how all Will wanted to do was leave .
…His cousin. Will paused on that thought, looking across the booth at where said cousin used to sit. It had been years since the other had reached out and even longer since Will himself had.
But sitting at their booth, in their corner, he found himself pulling out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he found a number. One he wasn’t sure was still connected to the same name, or even still in service, but he called it anyway, nervously tapping at the table in anticipation as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
Will nearly started crying again at the familiar voice. “Rae?”
A beat of silence, and then a small, disbelieving: “...Will???” Will laughed a breathy, humorous laugh. At himself, at the situation, he didn’t know anymore.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Will! I- you’re- hold on one second- let me just-” he could hear shuffling and Rae quietly speaking under his breath, before a door closed and Rae took a deep breath. “Will, hi! Oh my gods, it’s been so long, how are you, are you ok?”
Of course Rae’s first concern would be his health. “Yeah, I’m good I’m…back? For a bit?”
“You’re - you’re back?” Rae’s surprise mirrored Will’s own. He never thought he’d come back to this place, either. “Like, in Lodestar Grove?”
“Yeah, I’m- I’m at Lucenare’s, actually.”
“Oh! Oh, ok, I can - hang on, give me one second - yes, ok, I know, I know, I’ll be back. No, I’m ok, I promise. I just have to- no, Cas, I just- one second, Will, sorry.”
“It’s ok.” Will assured. It didn’t sound like he’d woken Rae up, but it was the middle of the night. Something Will was only realizing now after his impulse decision to call. Whoops.
A minute of whispered arguing could be heard on the other line before Rae was back.
“Ok, I’m heading over now. I’ll only be like...twenty minutes.”
“Rae, you don’t have to, it’s the middle of the night. I just- I wanted to talk, it can wait til morning-” Will did not want to go back to that house right now.
“Nope, nope, no, nuh uh. I’m on my way. Just- stay there. Don’t go anywhere.”
Will let his head flop backwards against the booth, both relief and anxiety somehow coexisting in the pit of his stomach.
“I won’t. Not this time.”
Gods how he wanted to, though.