Chapter Text
August 18th, 2017
The car played a monotone talk show as trees rushed by the window that marked the boundary between what Grian knew and what he didn’t. Soft peaks, just barely the right size to be called mountains, faded into a picturesque dark blue that blended with the sky in the distance.
It all looked so much like a Bob Ross painting you could go so far as to say this moment was just a happy little accident.
Jimmy’s feet playfully kicked against the empty seat in front of him, the 12-year-old somehow still so upbeat after everything that had just happened. The sun shined into his golden hair, and a faint humming could be heard if you listened close over the radio up front.
The caseworker’s red hatchback turned off the main road onto a narrow residential street.
Great. We’re almost there. Grian thought sarcastically.
Tilling Lake was a tiny town from what he’d heard. The caseworker said it was “charming”, but Grian knew that meant there were few enough people that he and his brother’s arrival was sure to start a few conversations. Grian was starting his junior year of high school in a few weeks, which was sure to be fun in the same way those purposefully awful jellybean flavors were supposed to be.
Eventually, the car pulled into a short gravel driveway in front of a Victorian-style home. The siding was painted a similar dark blue to the distant mountains, and a windchime jingled cheerfully from the front porch. There were countless house plants of many shapes and sizes visible in the houses’ bay windows.
The caseworker turned in her seat to look at the boys. “Alright, this is it!” she said, to no response from either child.
Grian opened the car door and set his black high-tops on solid ground for the first time in hours. His limbs felt tight from miles of driving, but he didn’t have time to finish stretching before the front door opened.
Before any person could be seen in the doorway, a black labrador retriever bounded out towards the new people standing in the driveway. The dog immediately went for Jimmy, its graying muzzle forcefully sniffing at his leg.
“Aww, hello!” Jimmy said, reaching down to scratch the dog’s back.
“That’s Tilly,” a new voice chimed in from the direction of the house. “She’s named after the lake.”
Grian turned around to see a girl a bit older than him, leaning against the porch railing. She had long brown hair, highlighted with blonde and flowing loose down to her hips. She was wearing denim shorts, a white t-shirt, and a blue hoodie unzipped at her sides.
“Heyo, I’m Pearl!” Pearl said, “You must be the older one! Grian, right?”
“...Yes,” Grian returned hesitantly.
“I’m Jimmy!” Grian’s brother announced, pausing from petting Tilly to say so, who huffed in protest.
“Hey Jimmy,” Pearl smiled.
Grian noticed two adults standing just inside the building.
“These are my parents,” Pearl said, gesturing grandly towards them.
The couple introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Moon, and invited Grian and Jimmy inside.
The caseworker stuck around for a little bit longer, but ended up leaving barely twenty minutes into Grian and Jimmy stepping into the house.
Figures, Grian thought. It’s her job, not her passion.
Grian’s new bedroom was on the side of the house, meaning the wall furthest from the door had a slant to account for the roof. There was a basic wooden-framed bed to the left of the door with generic white sheets and a matching comforter, although the moons said they could go somewhere to pick out patterned ones. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet as he brought his stuff inside the space.
Grian didn’t have much from his parents house to begin with, but even less considering the limited amount of time he and Jimmy were given to get out.
He packed extra clothes of course, a book he was about to finish, a blanket with embroidered poppies and lilacs that held some sentimental value and was warm anyways, a flashlight, and some cash, all stuffed into a light blue backpack with a souvenir acrylic parrot keychain with colorful text beneath reading: ‘pesky bird!’
Grian packed light and didn’t prioritize hygiene products at the time, assuming correctly in his panic that the foster agency would have stuff there.
Grian also purposefully neglected to bring his cell phone, since the only 3 numbers he had on there anyways were his Mom, his Dad, and Mumbo.
Mumbo.
His best friend was the one thing he’d miss about his hometown. Mumbo was probably piling up missed call upon missed call on Grian’s phone, wondering desperately why his most vocal contact was now radio silent.
Grian suddenly felt a pit in his stomach. He sat on his new bed and put his head in his hands, but he thankfully didn’t have much time to worry before he was called down to dinner.
The table was set nicer than any normal person would ever set the table, but Pearl quickly explained that it was for their arrival.
“It’s a special event, and you set the table all nice for special events, right?”
They ate their pork chops and potatoes mostly in silence, none of the Moons deciding to try and chat, thank goodness.
Afterwards, Grian cleared his plate into the trash and started to load the dishwasher when Mrs. Moon stopped him.
“Grian, honey, we can do that for you. Why don't you get ready for bed, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Everything you need should be upstairs.”
Grian weighed his options for a moment, still holding a dirty plate, but decided that not starting an argument on his first day was probably better than insisting on doing the dishes, so he headed towards his new room.
He took a brief shower, dried himself off with a white towel bordered in blue, got dressed in flannel pajama pants and a baseball team t-shirt, brushed his teeth, then almost tucked himself under the sheets before realising something vitally important.
Grian padded carefully down the hall to Jimmy’s room. His little brother was sound asleep, his peaceful form barely stirring when Grian leaned down to press a soft kiss to his temple.
When Grian got back to his room and under the blankets for real this time, it took him a while to finally get to sleep, tossing and turning for what felt like hours, thinking incessantly about the events of the past couple weeks before drifting into a shallow slumber.