She didn't dare question him, either.

Octavia did as she was told, one hand fumbling behind her until she found a notable click. Not once did she look away from Renato, granted only his back in the first place. His shaking shoulders, too, were visible.

In the most pained whisper she'd ever heard, his voice trembled much the same. "Help me put them on."

Her eyes widened. She matched his tone. "Right now?"

With a gaze still stolen, Renato nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Octavia was silent for a moment. Her eyes darted between Renato and the box resting on the covers. "I…you have to turn towards me."

"I don't want to," he whispered again.

"Then I can't."

"Could you please try?"

"Not if you don't look at me."

"I don't want to," Renato repeated, his whispers growing ever more unstable. Where his voice trembled, his entire body began to follow suit.

"Renato, look at me," Octavia pleaded gently.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

Renato didn't respond. Instead, he shook his head violently. His shoulders heaved.

His labored breaths were audible, and they gave way to rapid gasps in turn. Octavia's hesitant hands settled upon his shoulders. She expected him to pull away, somewhat. Instead, he only jolted in the slightest.

She had enough space to claim his face by force, if she wanted. The gaps between the bed and nightstand allotted that much. She gave him the choice, if there was anything to choose. "Renato, look at me or I'm going to look at you myself."

Renato hesitated. It took several seconds for him to turn, every step agonizingly slow. She'd expected it to be awful. She loathed that she'd expected it at all.

He'd surpassed trembling. He was outright shaking, hyperventilating as glazed eyes flooded with suffering. The tears were eternal, rushing down his cheeks and staining the carpet. There were sobs in there, somewhere, and she could hear them crawling out of his throat. His wrists touched his chest. His wrists touched his head. His wrists touched his cheeks, his mouth, his shoulders, his forearms. His eyes touched his wrists, and Hell touched his eyes every time.

"Don't…look…at me," he whimpered with great effort.

The eyes that pooled with agony drifted to the box. Octavia did what she could to sever his line of sight, stepping between the boy and the bed. "Renato," she said plainly, desperate to keep his attention.

"Octavia," he wept.

"It's gonna be alright," she murmured.

She was lying. She knew that he knew.

"Help…me…put them…on," Renato begged between rapid breaths.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"I'm…begging you."

"I need you to calm down first."

"Help…me."

Octavia entertained the idea of holding his wrists, for how there were no hands to hold and comfort. It would make it worse. It would make everything worse. She settled on his cheeks, reaching upwards to cradle either side of his face in shaking palms.

"You need to calm down."

"I can't."

There was nothing to say. She had nothing to offer. Platitudes were useless, and every "it'll be alright" was a scathing falsehood. She knew his reaction, just as she knew the personal Hell in his eyes. It was the same personal Hell that strangled her every Sunday.

He was taller than her. Octavia improvised, pulling him down to her level. Renato didn't resist, and she gave him what she often wished for herself. It took mild effort to still his violent shaking as she delicately tapped her forehead against his. Her braids trailed along her hands, brushing against his damp cheeks in turn. He didn't avert his eyes, nor squeeze them shut. Instead, he clung to hurried breaths alone, and she feared he'd faint. Ideally, he wouldn't get that far. She locked onto his petrified gaze.

"Octavia," he begged, "help me. Help me, please."

"Renato, this'll pass," Octavia whispered. It was absolutely not the time for her own voice to crack. It took immense effort to hold herself together as he crumbled to pieces.

"Octavia, it…hurts."

"I know, Renato."

"Everything…hurts…so bad."

"I know, Renato," she repeated.

"I don't…want…this."

"You're allowed to be upset, Renato."

"I hate…this."

"You're allowed to hate it, Renato."

"Octavia," he wept. Only her name. Nothing more.

"Renato."

In just the slightest, his breathing was slowing. He was catching on, maybe.

"Octavia," he repeated, labored sobs touching every syllable.

"Renato."

"Octavia."

"Renato."

He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Renato draped his arms over her shoulders as he trembled, pressing his forehead harder against her own. It didn't particularly hurt. "Octavia," he murmured.

"Renato."

For a moment, he submitted to silence in their embrace. Octavia, too, offered nothing. Their volume was low, his panic sealed off from the world. It did nothing to alleviate the ruthless rush of emotion that poisoned the air. There was the tiniest part of Octavia that feared Madrigal would kill her, should she defeat a locked door right now.

"I'm supposed to be over it already," Renato said with surprising coolness, his tone wavering in the slightest. His shoulders still shook on occasion, his breath hitching in time with residual sobs.

"No one expects you to be," Octavia comforted.

"Everyone does."

"Did someone say something to you?"

His eyes cracked open slowly, stray tears set free as they splashed against her fingertips. "I can feel their eyes on me."

Octavia sighed. "I'm the only one looking at you right now."

Literally. Their distance was painfully intimate. She knew what she meant. He knew what he meant. It didn't make it look any better to a third party.

"Madrigal…would kill me," Renato breathed.

It took everything in her power not to laugh. Octavia was thankful that the thought was at least mutual. Still, she couldn't fight the tiny smile that crept onto her face. "You know what I mean. Don't worry about them. It's just us right now."

"You don't judge me, right?"

"I mean, sometimes you make it a bit difficult. You kiss girls you just met."

"It was just her hand."

"Still kissing."

"You jealous?" Renato teased. Even devoid of a smile on a face utterly drained, the vigor behind his jokes was sincere for once. It felt good to hear again.

"You wish."

"Right here, right now, this is the best chance you'll ever get. All you gotta do is ask."

"You're a taken man."

"Exactly. This was a test. You passed."

"I'm too good for you," she joked.

"You're damn right."

Octavia blinked. That wasn't the answer she'd expected. "Do I dare ask what that even means?"

He shrugged, his shoulders finally still. "You shine too damn bright for the rest of us. Sometimes, I can hardly look at you."

Octavia couldn't fight the blush that crept onto her cheeks, either. So close to him, inches from his face, there was no hiding it. "My God, are you flirting with me?"

Renato smiled. It was soft, genuine, and beautiful. It was enough for her heart to sing. "I mean what I say. I'm a man of my word. Take it as you will."

It took Octavia a moment to find her words. "T-Thank you, I think."

"Are we, uh, ever letting go? I'm serious about Maddie killing me if she sees this."

Octavia flinched, untangling from him as quickly as possible. Her leftover blush was born of embarrassment alone. She smeared her palms on the skirt of her dress, Renato's residual sorrow just barely soaking into the fabric. "I mean, door's still locked."

He wiped at his damp eyes with one wrist. "Yeah, but Maddie's got so much magic stuff goin' on that I wouldn't be surprised if she's, like…psychic or something at this point."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Octavia laughed, settling down onto the bed. "I can't even argue with that."

"How, uh…how the hell did you know what to do? With…all that mess that just…you know?"

"Mess?"

He averted his eyes. "I mean, damn, sometimes I feel like you can read me like an open book."

"You are an open book."

Renato raised an eyebrow playfully. "Explain."

"You always look away when you're embarrassed, no matter what. You're doing it right now."

"Everyone does that."

"When you run, you always kick off with your left foot. You put two sugars in your coffee when you're alone, but when you have company, you drink it black. You always wear pine-scented cologne unless you're going somewhere with Madrigal. When you are, you switch to this one that's hard to describe, kinda smells like a river. You sing when you bathe, but you do it quietly enough that you don't think anyone can hear you. That's why you only take baths after everyone else bathes, probably. You never sleep without three pillows, and you actually write with your left--"

She stopped, biting her tongue at the last possible second. Octavia looked for the consequences on his face. In place of hurt, she found only a sparkle. He gazed at her incredulously.

"You…do that to anyone else?" Renato asked.

She shrugged. "Kinda. I see you guys every day, nonstop. Hard not to notice."

"So you have that and the thing with figuring out the damn wood on sight. You've got some weird talents, braids, you know that?"

"And you've still got a talent for giving people annoying nicknames. Can't wait to hear what you come up with for Josiah."

"Hey, about the wood thing," Renato muttered. It was only when his attention fell to encompassing birch that she realized he'd earned his line of sight. There was little point in concealing it anymore.

"What wood thing?" Octavia asked. She had a very vague idea of what he might've meant.

"Cherry oak," he answered, his voice low. "Only one I recognize now. You taught me how to love it. Was that your idea?"

Dark topic or not, she was somewhat flattered by his words. "I promise you, I had nothing to do with it. I didn't even know you were getting them. Genuine coincidence. I didn't find out until after everyone brought them back."

Renato sighed deeply. "Can I sit next to you?"

"I mean, it's your room," Octavia offered, patting the soft sheets beside her. He obliged, comfortably close in a way she didn't quite mind.

"Do you think I should try them on?" Renato finally asked. She'd wondered how long it would take to come up.

"Do you want to? There's absolutely no rush. No one expects you to right away."

"I feel like everyone expects me to," he answered, repeating an earlier sentiment.

"If they do, to hell with them. I'll give them hell if they say a word about it to you, either."

"Oh, you are bein' extra nice to me today," Renato jeered. "I feel spoiled."

"Don't get used to it. Special occasion. The minute I leave this room, we're back to…whatever we've usually got going on."

"No forehead-touching in public?"

"I know with 100% certainty your girlfriend has the literal capability to kill people."

"It was…nice," he continued. "It doesn't have to mean that."

Octavia blushed. "You are reading a little too much into this."

Renato turned his attention back towards the prosthetics. "Do I actually need help to put these on, anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You choose to ask me that now? Isn't that why you brought me in here?"

He paused, his eyes drifting to the floor. "Not…necessarily."

Octavia took a deep breath. "If you…ever want to talk, all you have to do is ask."

Renato delicately laid one of his wrists atop the back of her hand, and she jolted beneath his sudden touch. Even so, she reciprocated the soft eye contact he offered. "You too. I mean it."

For a moment, he gave her silence. "You're not okay. I know you're not okay. We're not okay, either of us. Nothing is okay," he continued. "So let's be not okay together."

She couldn't find the words to respond. She didn't get the chance, and he filled in the gaps. "What does it for you?"

"Does what?"

"That wasn't your first time, was it?"

"First time with wha--"

"You know what," Renato answered sharply.

Octavia shifted uncomfortably on the bed, tangling her fingers together. "Sundays."

His initially-puzzled expression gave way to wide eyes and sorrow. "When the--"

"Yeah."

"Look at me," he demanded for once.

Octavia obliged. Renato's gaze was just as sharp as his words, his eyes loaded with something she couldn't quite place.

"Every Sunday from now on, every single damn one. I don't care what time it is, I don't care if I'm in bed or not, you come get me. You find me, and we stay together until it's over. Don't you dare sit in your room like that alone. Please. Got it?"

She nodded, fighting the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. "I…got it."

Octavia didn't give silence the chance to sneak between them again. "And yes, to my understanding, they're designed so that you can put them on alone. You seem like you've got the general hang of…using your wrists, for the most part. So, I mean, if you want me to, I can help, but it's up to you."

Renato chuckled. "I think that might be the most intimate thing you could do for me right now. I'm a little overstimulated. You're gettin' a guy flustered."

She rolled her eyes. "Then put them on yourself. Don't make this weird."

"Not to say I'm not a bit…scared. I dunno what they'll feel like. I know it won't be the same, and I know they're not the real deal, but I'm still nervous. All of this is happening so fast."

Octavia sighed. "That's why I told them it was a stupid idea to rush you."

"I'm on a time limit, aren't I?"

Octavia froze. "For?"

Renato's eyes wandered to the nightstand. She regretted following along, her gaze settling upon Mistral Asunder in time with his own. As to how long either stick, in turn, had rested uselessly out of reach, Octavia didn't bother trying to count the days. Were she to ask Renato, he might know anyway. He could turn his head and double-check, and still they would languish so near. Two slivers of cherry oak were the sickest of reminders, close and distant all at once. Octavia had almost succumbed to the same fate, if not worse. Today was rapidly becoming one of the days where she didn't regret drawing blood.

"They switch Maestros. Viola has a big mouth. I heard somethin' like that before, too, forgot from which one of us. Probably Vi, who, again, has a big mouth. You people sure can shout when you feel like it."

"I'm sorry about that. It doesn't necessarily mean--"

"How can you tell when they've given up on you?"

"I…don't know," Octavia answered feebly. "The only one who would know is Viola's grandmother. Silver Brevada switched Maestras when she got too old to play anymore. I don't know how she formally found out."

"Do you think if I go to play them, even with those fake hands, they'll still give me a chance? Do you think they've…already decided I'm not worth it?"

It was Octavia's turn to rest her touch atop Renato's wrists, curling her fingertips around the clinging cloths. "Maestro or not, you'll always be worth it. You'll always be important to me."

He smirked. "I couldn't help but notice the way you left out the 'you'll always be my friend' part."

"Stop reading into it."

"Are we ever doing that again?"

"I'm leaving," Octavia deadpanned, peeling herself off the bed. "Let's go, Stradivaria."

"You think Stradivaria watched that whole thing?" he teased, watching as she urgently gathered the violin into her arms once more.

"He definitely did not, and if he did, it means nothing to him. Leaving."

"What are we now, exactly?"

"Leaving!" she repeated, fighting a grin she couldn't erase from her lips.

"Octavia."

She stopped in her tracks, one hand wrapped around the doorknob. She didn't answer, nor did it matter. She could feel his smile pressing against her back.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She closed her eyes, leaving the Maestro in her wake. "Any time."

Ideally, there wouldn't be another. She knew better, for how she knew herself just the same.

No one pressed. For that, she was grateful, although she doubted she would've been honest with them to begin with. A smile had been enough to satisfy them, and the apologies she earned in turn were abundant. Her ire had largely eased, the moment since passed. In a perfect world, it wouldn't be back. She was used to trading sorrow for anger, and the opposite exchange was jarring. She was sorry enough, and yet she skipped apologies of her own. The violin in her arms offered another type of atonement altogether, should she follow that path.

They weren't happy to be in the foyer again.

"Can't we go, like, anywhere else?" Harper whined. "I feel like enough has happened in here for one day."

"I need to talk about something serious."

The severity of her tone hit instantly. The four she'd dragged into a unit gave their sincere attention, and she didn't let one nervous gaze go to waste. She took one deep breath.

"I know the past few weeks have been a mess. We went through a lot. I don't…blame anyone for trying to process that. Even so, there's still too much left. There's too much that doesn't make sense, and too much stuff that none of us understand. Maestros, my sister, all of it. What happened, happened. I hate it. I can't ignore it. None of us can, but we're still here. That…has to mean something."

She earned no response. It was a loaded sentiment, adorned with yet more. She could hardly give it form in the first place, every buzzing emotion stumbling and snagging in her throat. There was more, and always would be. If she truly tried to give a voice to distress, she'd never speak normally again.

"Viola," Octavia offered, "do you…still want to defeat the Dissonance? All of it?"

Viola's head snapped upwards so quickly that Octavia feared she'd break her neck. "I…of course I do. I'll...find a way to make it happen. I know we haven't really gotten to--"

"Stradivaria has a way."

Every word on Viola's lips died instantly. She stilled, wide eyes matching perfectly with hitched breaths. For more than a moment, Octavia wondered if she was breathing at all.

"Stradivaria?" Josiah asked. "What do you mean?"

"What did he say to you?" Madrigal added.

Octavia shook her head. "I don't know the details yet. He just said we have to be together for whatever this is. Honestly, even I don't know what this involves yet, and I…won't know until everyone agrees."

Harper tilted his head. "That's…horrifying. We're agreeing to mystery terms?"

Octavia winced. "You don't have to."

To her surprise, he grinned. "You must be crazy if you think I'd have it any other way. You're not getting rid of me."

"Or me!" Madrigal exclaimed. "We're gonna fight the darkness together!"

"We are literally living in the same house. I think we'd all end up in this, anyway. You're not the only one with questions," Josiah added.

"Octavia," Viola finally breathed. "I…I'll do whatever it takes. I'll do anything. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, if that's how far I have to go."

Her words meant the most. "I won't let you down," she answered softly.

It was enough, and consent to her whims was fourfold. It was easy. It was almost too easy, enough that the slack in her heart felt off. If they'd continued to care all along, then her doubts left her the most toxic of all. She kicked herself several times over. She'd cope with it later. Action came first, well within her grasp. Under her breath, she made her routine plea. For once, she felt positive about the outcome.

"Is that enough for you now?" she whispered to the violin in her arms. "Four is plenty."

Five, it would seem.

"God, why are you people always so damn loud?"

Twice today had his voice brought the same room to a screeching silence. His footsteps echoed, quicker and lighter by comparison. He was physically okay, granted. It didn't necessarily negate any aggravation of his own, should he still harbor any. Again, she was holding her breath. Even casual as his approach was, she feared for what awkward atmosphere his presence alone risked dragging in. She did what she could to stop it before it started.

"Renato, we…need you. There's something we have to--"

"Maestro stuff?" he asked.

She blinked slowly. She nodded. "Maestro stuff."

"I'm in."

"That was easy," Josiah muttered.

"But I didn't even tell you what's going on yet," Octavia pressed.

Renato shrugged. "You don't need to. If you guys are involved, I'm involved. That's how that works. We doin' this now, or what?"

Usually, the eyes that fell to him in passing were hesitant and wary. He was delicate, handled with fragile words and uncomfortable fear. For once, hesitation was absent, traded on every side for wide-eyed surprise. It wasn't quite shock. It got close enough. Octavia didn't mind, nor could she battle the beaming smile that erupted onto her lips when her eyes raced down his arms. "I mean, I…don't see why not."

With one cherry oak thumbs-up offered to her, he flashed Octavia the most wonderful grin she'd seen in a long time. "Then let's get to it."

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