Work Text:
Summer, age 14
"Willow!"
"Luz!"
Standing off to the side Hunter watches as the two friends collide in a bodily hug, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets. He hasn't met any of Luz's friends before. And if it were up to him he wouldn't be now, either, but ever since Camila officially adopted him (he still gets butterflies thinking about it) Luz has been even more pushy about doing sibling things with him.
Today, that apparently means going to a county fair with her and her friends.
"Is Gus here yet?" Luz asks, leaning away from the other girl to look around and finally letting Hunter have a decent look at her. She has her dark hair pulled up in two braids, drawn forward over her shoulders, dressed in a light, airy green blouse with a sunflower-yellow overshirt pulled over top of it, and green and black striped leggings with white flower patterns on under denim shorts, tucked into a pair of dusty, sturdy boots. (He approves of these last additions, scuffing his own worn pair thoughtfully. Hers look a lot newer than his. Maybe he should acceot Camila's offer to buy him new ones…)
"Yeah, somewhere," she answers. "He said he'd meet us at the ticket booth." She's smiling, her cheeks already pink from the heat of the day. Hunter absently pats his pack, checking to see he remembered the suncream Camila insisted they bring, and considers offering her some. It'd be polite.
"Let's go find him," Luz demands, grabbing Willow's hand and turning as if to leave. She stops abruptly, though, suddenly remembering his presence. "Oh, wait! Willow, this is Hunter—my brother," she grins, her shoulders puffing proudly as she introduces him, and Hunter feels his face heat in embarrassment. "Hunter, this is Willow, my friend from school."
"Nice to meet you," he mumbles, clutching the strap of his bookbag tightly as Willow turns the full force of her emerald gaze on him.
"Hi!" she chirps, thrusting a hand out toward him. "Nice to finally put a face to the legend. Luz talks about you a lot."
"I've heard about you, too," he admits, flexing his fingers nervously before accepting her handshake. (Her grip is strong. He can see dirt under her fingernails.)
"Only good things I hope!" she snorts, to which he sputters anxiously.
"Of course! Only—only good things. She wouldn't say anything bad, Luz isn't like that."
He only realizes she was making a joke when she laughs and turns to Luz, playfully grilling her about what she's said to him. They walk arm in arm to the front while he trails behind, feeling out of place. He pays for their admission with the money Camila gave him, trying to ignore the discomfort itching at his skin, and afterward Hunter is similarly introduced to her other friend, once they find him—a shorter boy with brilliant blue eyes and and a theatrical sort of character. Hunter's attention is immediately caught by the Cosmic Frontier shirt he's wearing, but he isn't sure whether he should ask about it, or if he'd just annoy Luz's friend before they even have the chance to enjoy themselves. (Better not.)
Hunter follows them at a sedate pace for a while while Luz drags them all from place to place, content to linger on the periphery. He isn't a fan of all the noises and flashing lights, but it isn't unbearable. Throughout the morning he watches their stuff while the others go on rides, and occasionally badgers Luz to remember to drink water. In return she forces him to eat, insisting he try everything from snowcones to funnel cakes to overpriced corn dogs. They play games that are clearly rigged and challenge each other to see who gets sick first on rides (it's Luz, but only because she insisted on tasting the ice cream Willow bought, even though he warned her it had dairy in it.) Then it's off to the petting zoo, where a goat tries to eat his shoelaces and Luz gets mobbed by farm animals for her cup of feed. It's a hectic day, but not quite as bad as he'd feared it'd be when she'd first demanded he join her.
After that, however, there's a bit of a split in the group on where to go next.
"I have to try the house of mirrors," Gus insists.
"We still have to do the Pharoah ride, though," Luz interjects. "It was closed yesterday! Who knows if they'll close it again today, too. Besides, Hunter hasn't gone on any rides yet!"
"And I don't plan to," he snorts.
"C'mon Hunter—"
"Actually…" Willow thankfully interrupts, "if it's alright with you guys I kind of want to go check on the plants I entered. See if I won any ribbons." Luz and Gus share a reluctant look, clearly torn between potentially missing out on more attractions and wanting to support their friend. Willow must see it too, as she plasters on an encouraging smile as she continues. "Why don't we split up for a while? I need a break from the roller coasters anyway. I'm starting to get a headache."
"You sure, Willow?" Gus asks. "We don't want to leave you on your own."
"It isn't safe," Hunter mumbles, then stiffens when all three of them look at him.
"What isn't safe?" Luz asks, bumping his shoe with her own when he claims up.
"S-splitting up," he fumbles to answer. "Camila said we should stuck together." Luz hums, then brightens with an idea.
"Oh! Why don't you take Hunter with you?"
"I doubt that'd be necessary. I'll just be inside that building there," Willow reassures them all. "And I know a lot of the other gardeners who've entered today. I won't exactly be alone."
"Yeah, but he said he isn't gonna go on any of the rides with us anyway, right Hunter?" Luz snorts, and he lets his scowl answer her for him. "They have a lot of craft stuff in there, too. Quilts and things, right?" He perks up at the notion. (That sounds nice, actually…) "Why don't you show him around? Get him out of the sun before that heat flush turns into a sunburn," she jokes, motioning toward his head. Hunter touches his face nervously at her words, wondering if he should reapply some of the cream himself. Sure enough his face feels a little warm, which only worsens as embarrassment flushes his features.
"Well, I wouldn't mind," Willow shrugs, "but this is the first time we've met, Luz. Maybe he doesn't want to wander off with a stranger to look at plants?" They both glance his way, then, as if remembering he's present, and Hunter fists his hands nervously beneath the table. "Not that I'll do anything, mind you," Willow awkwardly giggles, "but I don't wanna bore you either. And I know not everyone cares much about plants…" (Honestly, though, boring sounds a little nice to him right about now.)
"It'd be safer that way, though," he concedes, careful not to show just how eager he is to get away from all the lights and sounds and screaming. "I don't mind going with you."
"Then it's settled!" Luz cheers. "Me and Gus can see the mirrors and boat and you guys can look at all the vegetables and artwork. Text us when you're ready to meet back up."
"Check in after each ride, though," Hunter insists before they separate. "So I know you didn't fall off any of them."
"Fiiine, you big worrywort. Now shoo! Go have fun!"
Reluctantly, Hunter agrees, watching his sister run off with Gus. He looks to Willow when they're out of sight, a little lost, to find her watching him back with an eager smile, though by her nervous fidgeting with her braids he figures she's as uncertain as he is.
"Ready?" she asks, her voice bright and cheerful in a clear attempt to fix the mood. (He absently notes that her cheeks are likewise pink from the sun. Do his look like that?)
"Let's go," he agrees, holding out an arm for her to take the lead.
The exhibitions are all held in a cavernous, multi-roomed building. The floor is waxed, well-worn concrete, and the whole place smells a little like the colorful paper used to decorate the various booths. Willow guides him through the space until they reach an area full of plants, pausing there to look around. One of the first things he notices is a table of giant vegetables, dominated in the center by one lone, enormous squash.
"I thought those were only in movies," he mutters, catching her attention. Willow hums a question and he points out what he's seen.
"I, uh, didn't know they could actually grow that big," he explains.
"Oh yeah! They definitely can. You should have seen the pumpkin someone brought in a couple years ago. It was so big it caved in on itself."
"Wouldn't that disqualify it?"
"It did," she sighs. "Which sucks. They totally deserved that blue ribbon. Oh! There's mine!" Willow grabs his wrist and drags him between the tables, oblivious to the way his heart rate skyrockets at the touch. She leads him to a huge planter with blooming, fist-sized maroon flowers and trailing, curling, velvety leaves. Willow coos and plucks at one of the curls. Stuck to one side of the pot is a trailing red ribbon with gold writing. Not first place, obviously, but Willow gives a quiet cheer anyway when she sees it.
"Good job, little flower. You did your best. Poor thing needs a bit more water, though. Don't worry, buddy, I'll find you some in a sec."
"I still have some left if you want it?" Hunter offers, already digging through his pack for his bottle and thrusting it out.
"Oh! But I don't want to take all your water. Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I can always refill it at the fountain or something," he shrugs, his nose tingling at her undivided attention. Willow smiles at him as she accepts the bottle—a real smile this time, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes behind her glasses—and he finds himself abruptly tongue tied at the way it plays havoc in his chest. (What in the world…?)
"You're so sweet," she chuckles, carefully uncapping the bottle as she turns to her pot and pouring it between the leaves. "Thank you."
"No problem…" he coughs, dropping his gaze. (He feels weird.)
Hunter doesn't have time to ponder why before Willow hurries them along, leading him to a push fountain to refill his drink, then back to the tables to find her other entries. When she sees her orchids won first place she squeals, bouncing up and down. Her excitement is infectious, drawing a gap-toothed grin to his own face that he tries to hide behind his fist.
Afterward, bouyed by the good mood, Willow seemingly floats through the building, happily showing him the other things on display. They see the promised handmade blankets and quilts—one shows a whole pack of wolves running across a snowy field, second place, and she listens as he bemoans that it didn't win. In turn Willow talks to him about photography when they come upon that section, pointing out techniques he's never heard of. They look at artwork from the local schools, and when he learns her class submitted things he hunts down Luz's portrait drawings, intending to tease her about them, but finds (much to his disappointment) that they're actually really good. Willow points out Gus' picture nearby, and then it's only natural he asks where hers is, only for Willow to insist she didn't enter any. (Her blush says otherwise.)
It takes some searching, but he finds it: a watercolor of roses on a vine with her name on a card stapled to its poster board border. Hunter makes sure to loudly and obnoxiously compliment the "artist," pretending he hasn't realized it's hers. She quickly pushes him away to look at the next displays, huffing in embarrassment, but he catches the happiness in her expression regardless.
Willow successfully diverts him from his teasing by pointing out the carpentry projects, however, and for the next half hour his attention is enraptured by the rows of hand-carved objects—particularly the set of little, detailed birds perched on an old, gnarled piece of driftwood.
This is where the others find them later, well after they'd originally planned to meet up. Luz scolds him for not answering his phone (he'd forgotten to turn the volume up, apparently) then teases him for ignoring Willow for the birds, to which he profusely apologizes even while said friend swears she didn't mind. (He finds her assurances doubtful, but sullenly refuses to argue, instead buying them all one last round of ice cream in repentance and says it's to celebrate her ribbons.)
Sunset arrives all too soon. He's strangely disappointed to see it, for all that he didn't want to come out in the first place. Reluctantly Hunter herds Luz toward the gates, reminding her of the time, and a round of goodbyes ensue complete with multiple hugs.
Much to his surprise, Willow wraps him in a tight hug as well, eliciting a confused, cracky squeak from his throat as she nearly lifts him off his feet.
"Bye, Hunter! It was really nice to meet you. I hope you'll come along the next time us and Luz hang out, too."
"Ah. Ye–yeah, sure," he agrees without thought, swaying on his feet as she sets him back down. "I can. I can do that. Just let me know when?"
"Of course. Actually, here! Let's swap penstagram handles!" she chirps, fishing out her phone to pull up an app.
"Okay," he gulps, grabbing his own device as well to do as she asked, except…
"What, uh. What's a penstagram handle…?"
Autumn, age 17
It's late evening at the Noceda house.
It is also, more importantly, Halloween.
And Luz hasn't left the restroom in Two. Hours.
"Come on, Luz, other people need to use the bathroom too!" Hunter complains.
"Just a few more more minutes!"
"You said that thirty minutes ago! Let's go!" he growls, jiggling the door handle.
"Quit rushing me, I'm almost done!"
"I swear on your stupid Azura figurines if you don't let me in in the next thirty seconds I'll use your bed as a toilet and make you sleep in it!"
Gratifyingly, the door opens at that, and there stands Luz in a Gomez costume, glaring at him with her lip curled in clear disgust.
"Why are you so gross!" she whines. "Who raised you!"
Hunter snorts and grabs her by the shoulder, pulling her past him so he can slam the door on her this time without bothering to answer. He deosn't actually need the toilet that badly, but she isn't the only one who's costume needs tweaking. Hunter finishes that business quickly and pulls a tube of fake blood out of his pocket, leaning into the mirror to apply it. He's already covered half his face in green zombie paint and rotted smears, so he doesn't need more than a few little dabs around the corners of his mouth and along the ridges of his scars to make himself appropriately spooky.
When he exits his sister is nowhere to be seen, though he can hear her talking to their mother in the kitchen. Hunter follows the sounds of their voices, grabbing the car keys from their hook on the way.
"Call me if anything happens, okay?" Camila frets, pulling Luz in for a quick kiss to her cheek.
"It's just movies and a sleepover, mama," Luz laughs. "We'll be fine."
"You can come home—"
"—at any time, I know."
"And you'll listen to your brother?"
"Si, mama, I promise. And speaking of! Hunter are you ready to go?" Luz asks, pulling free of their mother's embrace.
"Are you?" he snorts, spinning the keys on one finger. "Do we need to bring anything? The candy? Any snacks?"
"Willow has plenty of food for us. This candy is here for mama to pass out to anyone who comes by."
Hunter nods and steps forward to offer their mum his own goodbyes, leaning down to accept a kiss on his cleaner cheek.
"Thanks for letting me use your car, mama," he says, not for the first time tonight.
"Of course, mijo. You drive safe."
After his own round of promises to check in and a reminder to return before she'll need to leave for work tomorrow he heads for the car, teasing Luz one last time by first clicking the door lock and waiting for her to pull the handle before he finally unlocks them.
"You feel so smug about getting your license early, don't you?" she huffs. "You're a brat."
"Hey, it's this smug brat that's taking you to see your girlfriend. Maybe a little more gratitude and less complaining?"
He laughs when she playfully punches his arm, but dutifully starts the car, likewise eager to see their friends.
Willow's house is fully decorated for the season when they pull up, and though he's seen the pictures she's sent him this is the first time this year he's had to experience the sight personally. There are hay bales and tombstones, ghosts and bats and spiders hanging from the house and trees, skeletons crawling out of the hedges and a pile of leaves, little jack-o-lantern lights along the sidewalk, spiderwebs in the corners and a black cat figure perched on a windowsill, garlands of miniature skeletons and pumpkins and spiders, window stickers and cardboard cutouts and chalk drawings up the sidewalk… Hunter smiles when he sees it all, idling on her driveway while Luz texts her they've arrived. The garage door opens for them a minute later, and Hunter carefully pulls in to park where trick or treaters won't run the risk of bumping into Camila's car.
Willow waves at them from the door, then hurries over before he's fully in park to meet them. She's dressed up as a witch this year, with the pointed ears from her elf costume last year and contacts that seem to glow green in the dim light of the garage.
"It's so good to see you guys!" she's saying as Luz tackles her for a hug. "Ugh, I'm so over this last year of school already. We never have time to hang out anymore."
"Seconded," Luz groans. "And it's only gonna get worse as midterms come up."
"Don't remind me…"
"If only we could all be nerds who skipped a grade and finished school early," Luz snorts pointedly. Hunter magnanimously keeps his mouth shut, but can't entirely fight the self-satisfied grin of someone who doesn't have to worry about finals any more.
"Won't Gus technically be doing that this year?" he says instead.
"Willow, we're going to have to drown the boys. They're making us look bad."
His heart flutters at the tinkling laugh Willow emits, a phenomenon he's long since grown used to. Hunter awkwardly shoves the keys into his jacket pocket and ushers the girls inside, where they find they're the last to arrive. While Luz plasters herself to her girlfriend's side (Amity is dressed as Morticia this year; he isn't surprised) Gus (also dressed up in a skeleton shirt and pants) jumps up to greet him with their secret handshake, which ends with both of their facepaints smudged and Gus howling with laughter.
While they fix their faces the girls finish setting up for their movie night, piling the small couches with blankets and pillows, and the coffee table with snacks and drinks. Luz has already claimed the loveseat with her girlfriend by the time he joins them. (He still isn't too sure about her new partner, honestly. Amity makes his sister happy, but he still remembers that first year knowing Willow, and hearing how the girl and her other "friends" had bullied her.) Gus throws himself onto the spot nearest them to claim the remote, leaving Hunter to gingerly settle himself at the far end of the other couch where he can stretch out his long legs without kicking the table.
"So what are we watching first?" Gus demands, already flicking through Cruciflix to the holiday movies.
"Scary Godmother," Luz demands, earning a groan from her brother.
"Really? We watch that every year!"
"Well obviously! It's tradition!" Luz sticks her tongue out at him. "Just because you don't like how they portrayed the werewolf—"
"That isn't the point!"
"Then what would you pick, huh?"
He doesn't have an answer, as she knew he wouldn't, so instead Hunter throws a pillow at her only to regret it when she steals it for her shoulders.
"Give that back."
"Nope, mine now. Put the movie on, Gus."
With a shrug their youngest member does as told, just as Willow returns with a large, spooky-themed bowl of popcorn.
"Ooh, I love this movie!" she cheers, dropping the bowl in Gus' hands and settling down between the boys. Luz sends him a smug grin across the room, but he's not paying attention to her. He's just noticed the earrings Willow has in, little silver spiders hanging from delicate chains from her lobes.
"Are these new?" he asks, flicking one curiously. Willow jolts at his touch, reaching up to touch the spot herself, but smiles at his question.
"Yeah, papa gave them to me yesterday. Aren't they cute?"
"Very…"
Gus, ever the film afficionado, shushes them as the movie plays, jumping up to click the overhead light off. Willow snorts and scoots closer to Hunter, and for a while they talk in hushed whispers so as not to bother the others. (Or, really, bother Gus, as on the other couch the lovebirds are doing exactly the same thing.) As the evening wears on, the doorbell rings occasionally for trick or treaters, and he and Willow take turns getting up to dole out candy.
For a while the night is wonderful. They watch a few more kid's movies, reminiscing about past holidays, but when dark fully descends Gus insists on putting on some "real" Halloween movies. Willow eagerly backs him up, as does Luz, and though Amity seems at first unsure she's quickly swayed by her girlfriend's offer to let her hide in her shoulder if it gets too scary. Outnumbered, Hunter doesn't bother to debate the choice, instead quietly plugging in his earbuds and lowering the brightness on his phone so he isn't disturbing the others with it. Willow glances at him curiously, but he waves her off, shoving the phone into his hoodie pocket as soon as he finds something else to listen to.
The truth is, he isn't very fond of horror movies. He doesn't see the appeal. Either they're laughably fake schlock, or they're…
He doesn't like them.
Between the occasional glance to follow what's happening on screen, Hunter prefers to watch the reactions of his companions. Despite her bravado, Luz ends up as the one mostly hiding her face in Amity's shoulder. The popcorn quickly ends up strewn across the floor thanks to a particularly terrified flail from Gus. More than once someone's scream slips through his headphones, startling him in turn—or whatever kids he's passing out candy to if he has the door open. The only one seemingly unphased is Willow, who snorts at the more ridiculous tropes and rolls her eyes every time someone on screen dooms themselves needlessly.
He finds himself focusing mostly on her, in fact, grounding himself against the chaotic atmosphere on her level headed confidence.
He isn't sure what it is that flips that hidden switch in his brain, the one that throws him back to that awful night that put him into foster care in the first place. Nothing particularly violent is even happening on screen right now, just two detectives stumbling upon the staged murder scene and looking around in horror.
Maybe it's the sight of blood on the floor, soaking into white carpet. Or the flash of red and blue lights strobing through dim windows. Workers in uniform, talking into their crackling radios, calling codes he doesn't know as his music quiets between songs. Whatever it is, it turns his thoughts to static, freezing him in place. His cheek throbs with the ghost of a memory, confusing him, and for a moment a isn't sure where (when) he is.
A chorus of shrieks quickly knock him out of his daze, followed by delighted laughter. Hunter gasps in a quiet breath with burning lungs, peeling his fingers one by one out of their tense fists. His cheek still twinges, a phantom sensation that churns his stomach.
It isn't real. He knows it isn't. It's that– that thing his therapist said. He needs to remind himself where he is. Do the– the grounding things.
Another scream, this time from the tv, makes him jump, and the splash of blood across the screen redoubles his reaction.
He doesn't consciously move, but one second he's on the couch, trying to breathe, and the next he's in the bathroom, fumbling for the light. (It isn't real. It isn't real. It isn't real.) He isn't hurt. He just need to prove it. The light flicks on, blinding him. Hunter rapidly blinks his eyes back into focus, his shoulders taught while he adamantly ignores the paranoid sensation of someone watching him.
Frustrated with himself, and unable to handle the glare from the mirror, he impatiently presses his fingers to the spot, harder than necessary but it's a good pressure. The pain doesn't change, but his face feels weird beneath his fingertips. Tacky. Sticky. Numb.
Confused, Hunter pulls his fingers away to squint at them, only to freeze in horror at what he sees.
Red.
Time stops. Rewinds. He's back there again, hiding somewhere small and dark. Listening for heavy footsteps and muttered cursing. There's blood on floor, painting the edges of his hazy vision, a scarlet trail leading right to him—
Something touches his hand. Hunter jerks away from it, gasping sharply.
"Easy," soothes a soft, familiar voice. His attention snaps to her with desperation, drinking in the smooth curve of her features as she settles on her knees next to him. "You okay?" His jaw works, trying to answer, but the only sound to escape is a quiet, shivering sob. He clenches his teeth on it, but it's too late. Her brow crumples in concern.
"Hunter? What happened? Are you okay?" she repeats, hands hovering around him but not quite touching, for which he's grateful. It's a few moments before he remembers how to speak, during which she glances anxiously toward the door and back to him.
"B-bleeding," he wheezes. "I'm…"
"Okay," she hushes, barely patting his knee where it's up near his chest. "We can fix that. Where?"
"Face…"
"Gotcha. Can I see?"
Shakily, he nods, yet when she moves to touch him he still flinches. Willow moves patiently, slowly, slowly cupping his chin in her hand so she can turn his face up toward the light. Her other hand plucks a strip of paper from the roll nearby, carefully using that to dab at the side of his face, and when it comes back red his stomach wrenches painfully. Willow talks to him as she works, stepping away for a second to wet a few cloths as well, but with each wad tossed in the bin her frowns grows.
"I don't see any blood, Hunter," she eventually murmurs. His spine snaps taught with a scowl, because How. How did she not see any of that?! There's some on the tissue in her hand right now!
"It's right there," he rasps, flicking a hand toward the paper. "Right…" He touches his face next, over his scar. The skin she's wiped off is more sensitive than the rest, still damp, but it isn't difficult to find a spot where it's also tacky and thick. His shaking fingers come back coated in red, and Hunter shudders. "See?!" he gasps, desperate not to be the only one.
"You mean the… fake blood?" Willow carefully asks, catching his wrist in her hold.
His thoughts fizzle flat at the words, pinging another memory in place, reminding him of readying himself in the bathroom earlier.
"Fake…" he whispers, reinforcing the idea. "Really?"
"That's all I can see, at least," she assures him, dabbing at the rest of it. "Doss it hurt anywhere?"
He thinks, checking himself over, but that phantom pain from earlier is now gone, turned numb instead. Hunter shakes his head, barely a twitch of the muscle back and forth.
"Sorry," he rasps.
"Don't worry about it," she murmurs, allowing herself to work a little more roughly now that she's sure he isn't actually hurt to remove the faux blood. The toilet paper rasps against his hidden stubble, as well as the hairless line of scar tissue that bisects his jaw. "Did you hit your face on something?" Willow asks. "Is that why you thought you were bleeding for real?"
"No, I. I just… forgot," he answers lamely. Willow glances up in surprise.
"… You forgot you had makeup on?"
"Yeah…" He doesn't want to answer further, avoiding eye contact as he wishes the ground would open up and eat him in his shame. Hunter pulls his trembling fists across his chest, holding himself tight.
"… You were panicking," she notes softly, finishing her cleanup and sitting back. "Did something happen?"
"No…"
"Did the movie scare you?"
His lips part, but he hesitates. "… No… Not. So much." Willow waits, pressing her palms to his knees. The warmth of her touch soothes him, as does the absent rub of her thumbs over his soft pants. "… It reminded me of something," he finds himself admitting. "From. Before I came to Camila's."
"Oh…"
She doesn't know much about his past—no one does, except his old caseworker, his therapist, and Camila—but he's told her a little bit. By the fall of her expression, it's apparently enough for her to understand.
"Do you need me to get you anything? Fetch Luz for you?"
"No!"
They both jump at the suddenness of his answer, and Hunter awkwardly clears his throat.
"I-I mean. No, that's not… I don't want to ruin her night."
"Okay…" she quietly agrees, squeezing his knees. "Is there anything I can do to help, then?" He doesn't want to impose on her. He doesn't want to ruin her night, either—they're supposed to be enjoying a party and here is messing everything up. But rather than the reassurances he means to say, what comes out of his mouth is a hoarse plea.
"Stay?" he begs. Willow nods and shuffles closer, pressing up against his side, then sneaking her hand into his and squeezing it firmly.
Hunter clutches her offering in relief, pressing his shoulder tight against hers even as he drops his face firmly down in his lap, hiding away behind the crook of his elbow and praying she can't see the rush of blood heating his ears.
They won't stay for long, of course. The others would notice eventually, after all. And when they return Willow will step in to distract them all, deciding to pick the next movie while claiming she's bored of the scary stuff. She'll cover Hunter in blankets while Anastasia begins to play, and whenever the room is dark enough will sneak her hand into his for another reassuring squeeze, being subtle about checking in on him. He'll appreciate her all the more for every brush, clinging to her touch well after the rest of the party falls asleep where they sit, and pretend in the morning that it was an accident she fell asleep against his side, pressing him warmly into the mess of pillows.
Winter, age 20
Two car doors shut, their heavy thunks echoing across the thick snow of the yard. Hunter hurriedly gathers luggage bags from the back seat, then slips his way toward the front to catch up with Willow, stumbling on the ice. She catches his elbow before he stumbles, her mitten as soft as her giggle.
"Careful. I don't think you mom would appreciate you getting hurt right as you're about to walk in the door."
"That'd be one way to ruin Christmas," he jokes.
"Need me to carry any of those?"
"Nah, I got it. Just get the door?"
The steps up to porch, at least, are mostly clear of snow. Even outside Hunter can smell the aroma of fresh cookies and savory pastries, as well as hear the croon of his mama's favorite music, a sure sign she's been at the kitchen all day. Willow dutifully knocks to announce their arrival, and from inside Luz's voice cries out, saying she'll be right there.
The front door opens and a blast of cold air rushes past him to sneak in. Hunter sucks in a sharp breath and shivers as his sister frowns at him.
"You don't have to knock, you know," she snorts. "This is still your house, even if you are staying a million miles away."
"Shut up and let us in," he grumbles, swiping a lazy kick at her. Luz ducks out of the way with a giggle, offering Wilow a more enthusiastic greeting than she gave him. Hunter waits for his companion to enter first before following after, pushing the door shut with his foot once inside and splitting off from them to set the bags down. Amity murmurs a quiet greeting of her own from where she's reading on the couch, which he returns in kind, and when she sees him unpacking numerous wrapped presents from his luggage sets her book aside to help place them amongst the others already under the tree.
He manages to unpack just the first bag before his mom bustles in, catching him up in a tight hug.
"Didn't think you could get away without saying hello, did you, chiquito?" she laughs.
"Of course not, mama," he smiles. "I wouldn't dream of it." Hunter wraps his arms around her in turn, letting Camila pull him down to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Was the drive down okay?"
"It was fine. Long," he sighs.
"Poor bebè. You're probably tired."
"Eh… Willow kept me awake for it. I'm fine."
"I'm glad you two could carpool down together. How's college?" she asks, fussing with his hair.
"I thought it'd be worse, honestly. But so far the courses are manageable. I'm enjoying them."
"Good. You're getting enough to eat? Not working yourself too hard, are you?"
"No, mama. Willow makes sure I eat. And go outside, and get to sleep on time…" She pats his shoulders approvingly as she releases him.
"Good. You're lucky to room with her. Do you two need anything for the apartment?"
"No, mama, we're fine."
"Have you thrown any wild parties yet?"
"No, mama, of course not," he chuckles, then jokingly adds: "We're waiting for Luz to come up and visit."
"Cheeky," she huffs, pinching his cheek. "Go on, then, and finish unpacking. Then come help me make the pastelitos and quipes."
"Sì, mama," he eagerly agrees, accepting another kiss before he returns to his tasks.
It's nice to be home again. He hadn't realized how homesick he'd be moving off to college. Thank goodness Willow and Gus both enrolled in the same one or he'd probably have quit altogether to run back, opting instead to finish all the online courses before the in-person ones. It's been an enlightening experience for sure.
As her fathers are visiting other family this year, having expected her not to come down at all, Willow (like Amity) is spending Christmas with his this year. Surprisingly, he wasn't the one to extent the invitation this time, but only because Luz beat him to the punch. Which works just as well for him, as if she hadn't come down as an honorable member of the family he'd probably have asked her along as…
Well.
There's a second reason he wanted to bring her with him this year. One that leaves his heart racing to even consider it, enough so that he second guesses himself all throughout dinner until it concludes without him having made the announcement he'd planned to.
Hunter finds himself lying awake later that same night, regretting his cowardice. So absorbed is he in his own self pity that he nearly misses the click of his basement door, though the creak of the stairs alerts him to his late night visitor. He drops his hands from his face to look, and his heart skips a beat at the sight of Willow sneaking down to join him, dressed in loose shorts with her hair down.
"I knew I'd find you awake," she teases, crawling into bed. Hunter scoots over, lifting the blankets to invite her closer, and shuffles around until she's settled comfortably against his side.
"Hard to sleep without you breathing in my ears, I guess," he teases. "I've grown used to the white noise."
"Same," she sighs, claiming his bicep as a pillow and nuzzling into his chest. "Especially that little whistle you do when you breathe out."
"I thought you were exaggering about that," he grumbles, embarrassed, and Willow hugs him closer with a giggle.
"Nope. I love it."
He grunts a noncommittal sound, too content to argue, and burrows his nose in her soft, thick hair. Willow sighs happily, limbs already going lax around him.
"Are you going to sleep down here, then?" he murmurs, carding his fingers through her hair.
"Luz will notice when she wakes up," she sighs regretfully. "I shouldn't."
"Is that such a bad thing?" he carefully asks.
"I dunno," Willow mumbles in return, equally cautious. "Is it?" He knows why she's asking him. They'd already planned to tell them, after all. It's only his own indecision (his cowardice) which kept the revelation behind his teeth.
"Sorry," Hunter murmurs, guild assaulting him once more.
"It's okay," Willow soothes him, rubbing her thumb against his spine. "If you aren't ready to tell them…"
"It isn't that. I still want to, I just…" He clenches a fist in frustration, then relaxes it on a sigh. "I don't know how to bring it up…"
"Mmn…" Willow hums in commiseration, pulling him even closer and trapping him in place with a thigh over his own. "Do you want me to do that part?"
"It wouldn't be fair to ask that of you, though. They're my family. Shouldn't I be the one to…?"
"Well Luz was technically my friend first, and Camila is like the mom I never had," she jokes. "Plus I don't think any of them are going to upset by… by us," she giggles shyly, just as happy with the idea of a Them as he is.
"The worst Luz will do is be insufferable about it," he agrees, "but that's nothing new. And mama… She already loves you. You really are part of the family already."
"See? It'll be fine. So how about I bring it up at breakfast, tomorrow? Or we can see who catches us holding hands at the table and go from there…"
"Yeah," he sighs, hugging her tighter in relief, "that sounds fine. Great, even."
"Then it's a plan." Willow presses a light kiss to his collar, and in return he reciprocates with one to her crown. "Think you can sleep now?"
Hunter hums a tired agreement and settles in, tugging the blankets higher up her shoulders before he allows his eyes to close.
Spring, age 25
It's the first clear day after a week of rain. The air is humid and the breeze is cool—and his girlfriend is already smeared elbow to shoulder in mud. Somehow, this doesn't surprise him in the least.
"Hey, you," Hunter announces himself, grinning when Willow turns to glance his way. "I brought some lemon water. You should probably drink something."
"Yeah, probably," she muses, sitting back on her heels to wipe her brow with the back of a wrist. This removes the sweat, sure, but leaves another smear of dirt on her face, which Hunter leans in to wipe away with a fond smile. He drops a kiss to the spot afterward and hums in concern.
"You're getting hot."
"I thought I was already hot?" Willow teases as she accepts the glass. "Or is there something you want to say about my overalls?" Hunter feels his cheeks warm as she wiggles her brows at him and covers those glinting eyes eyes with his palm in punishment.
"Well, I'm not saying they don't," he admits, "but I'd appreciate if you washed them first before bringing them in."
"Noted."
"But," he continues, "that isn't what I meant and you know it. Did you remember sunscreen?"
"Yeah. It's on the patio over there, but I probably need to reapply it," Willow admits. Hunter nods and offers her a hand, which Willow accepts to help her rise, and drinks from her glass as he leads them into the shade.
"I've almost finished digging the holes," she informs him once half the lemonade is drained. "I think I can get most of the starters planted by tomorrow."
"Good job," he praises, looking over the upturned line of soil with an appraising eye. "Must be a lot easier with all the rain, huh?"
"Oh definitely. We'll have fresh carrots and snap peas before you know it."
"As long as we don't have any more zucchini surprises," he jokes, leaning into her playful swipe.
"Hey, we managed to give away most of it."
"I can still taste that zucchini bread in my nightmares."
"But it was delicious, wasn't it?"
"Oh, absolutely. But I'll never be able to stomach another bite regardless." Willow drags him into the seat beside her, forcing him to cuddle her for his impertinence. He happily snakes his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the way mud sticks to his clothes.
"How's carving going? You make any progress on your commission?"
"Hrm. A little. The wood is interesting to work with for sure—I'm glad I practiced beforehand. But I'm starting to think it won't curve the way he wanted it to…"
Willow commiserates with his grumbling by patting his knee and letting him muse over ways he might fix it, and in turn he listens to her plans for the garden, reminding her of his mum's request for tomatillos this summer. Above their heads sway the handmade wooden windchimes he'd carved, and off in the corner of the porch is the birdhouse they'd made together, currently in use by a pair of cardinals starting their new family.
Life couldn't be more perfect.
Or… well, there is one thing that could improve the afternoon, if only he could manage the nerve to try for it. Which is doubtful, as he hasn't mustered even an ounce of courage in the year he's been carrying that damn box around. (Even now he can feel it sitting heavy in his pocket, as if waiting to break free.)
"What do you want for dinner?" he asks instead, distracting himself before he can psych himself out and make her suspicious. "I took out hamburger."
"We need to use the tortillas."
"Tacos it is," he nods.
"Don't forget my dad's are stopping by later to look at that leak."
"I'll make extra, then. Invite them to stay." Willow leans up for an approving kiss, which he obligingly provides, smiling against her mouth.
"With the fresh salsa?" she suggests, fluttering her lashes hopefully. Which is absolutely cheating, mind you. She knows how weak he is to that.
"I'll need to head to the store for cilantro, then…" he relents, earning a happy little cheer from his girlfriend. "On that thought, remember to put on sunscreen," he snorts, claiming the glass of ice from her fingers. "And I'll refill this for you."
"M'nkay," she easily agrees, reaching up to adjust her ponytail. Hunter claims one more kiss before he heads inside, because he can, and she enjoys it when he initiates affection.
When he returns, however, it's to find she still hasn't left the bench, looking at something in her hands—which have at least been wiped off in preparation for applying the cream. Hunter rolls his eyes, figuring she got distracted messaging her parents, but when he rounds the seat it isn't a phone he sees in her hands.
It's an open velvet box.
His hand slaps to hip, heart in his throat.
It isn't there.
Oh no.
Slowly, Willow's wide eyes pry away from the ring to meet his own, her lips parted wordlessly.
"Um… I can explain," he croaks.
"You're going to propose?" Willow demands, clutching the box to her chest. He… isn't sure what her expression means, actually—it's too full of astonishment to tell. But she doesn't sound upset.
"I mean. I'd, uh, planned on it. Eventually," he nervously admits. Hunter rolls the glass between his shaking hands, utterly terrified and second guessing himself. "… That is. If that's—"
"YES!"
He jumps at her shout, nearly dropping the lemon water, and Willow visibly attempts to compose herself.
"Sorry, sorry. I mean yes. Of course it is. I'd love to marry you."
Hunter expells the breath he'd been holding on a rush of air, finding it's his turn to be surprised.
"Really…?"
"Really," she swears, nodding seriously. After only a second, however, she bursts into a blinding grin, kicking her feet. Just as quickly as the excitement encompasses her, however, it vanishes on a sharp inhalation. "Oh! But wait! Oh no, did I ruin the proposal!?" she gasps,
"Well. No. Not exactly," he coughs. "I didn't have an idea for how to do that. Er. Yet." Nothing that seemed right, anyway. Nothing good enough for her.
"Oh good," she sighs, relieved. "I'd hate to ruin your plans. Though this is gonna be a cute story to tell everyone anyway," she giggles, and he realizes with mortification that Luz is never going to let him live this down. Still, if it makes Willow this happy… maybe it's better it happened this way after all. Hunter cautiously approaches, setting the glass aside for now so he can meet her reaching fingers with his own, and swallows nervously.
"… It isn't too soon, though. Is it?" he checks.
"Hunter, honey, we've been together almost half a decade, and known each other twice as long," she smiles. "I think our friends have already placed their bets on when it'd happen." He grimaces at the notion, but there's more truth to it than he'd like. "Besides, if you aren't sure you're ready we can always do a long engagement instead."
"I'm ready," he murmurs, squeezing her hand in both of his. "For you? I'm more than ready."
"Then I guess we'd better save a date," she smirks, offering up the little box meaningfully for him to take. Hunter accepts it, eyes stinging with emotion as he slowly lowers down onto one knee in front of her. Willow's hand is steady as she holds it out to him, far different than his own as he fumbles the box back open, but thankfully he doesn't drop the ring before managing to slip into onto her third finger, noting with relief that it fits perfectly.
He admires it against her sun kissed skin, the band a soft white gold with more emeralds than diamonds embedded within it. His heart balloons to double the size in his chest at the sight of it, hot as the sun and lighter than air. When he finally looks away it's to find her smiling as wide as he's ever seen her, her eyes shimmering with unbridled happiness.
"Willow Park, I love you," he rasps, his voice raw with emotion. "Will you marry me?"
"Yes. A hundred thousand times yes."
It's everything he could ever ask for.