It didn’t take long for Rhys to fall asleep again. He was sprawled out on the sofa in the Wylder-Michaels’ living room, bundled up under a thick throw blanket with a soft snore escaping his lips. He had eaten plenty and was glowing during breakfast, his tension lessened as conversations happened and his comfort levels rose. Cane and Vic were inquisitive and wanted to know every detail of his life before he arrived in the Wood and, while he was a bit unsure of being so open, he did appreciate their extroverted natures.

As Vic went to sit in the armchair near the fire to read a book, he was stopped by Cane’s hand on his shoulder.

“We need t’talk,” Cane said quietly.

Vic grabbed his mug and followed his friend through the French doors toward the front of the funeral home. The rain had fully stopped but the heavy clouds still lingered, making it dark enough for Vic to stand outside without the fear of being set alight—at least, not immediately. He was grateful, he knew these days would be rare once June rolled around. He hated the summer months.

“What’s going on?” Vic inquired as he sipped his tea.

“You think you might wanna let up a bit with the flirtin’?” Cane asked.

“What… are you talking about?”

“You’re layin’ it on a bit thick, Victor. The kid’s only been here for half a day, you don’t need t’scare him off.”

The obvious confusion on Vic’s face led Cane to believe he may have misinterpreted the situation. Cane finished up his coffee and set the mug on the railing before he rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his undercut had gotten long, he’d need to have Cas trim it. His dusty blonde locks would grow in rapidly over the next few days and they’d never find the undercut lines again if they didn’t manage it before it got out of hand. He made a mental note to add razors to his shopping list, knowing full well he’d ruin the ones he had.

“I didn’t realize I was doing that,” Vic admitted.

“You’ve been actin’ like a high schooler experiencin’ his first crush since the moment you laid eyes on him,” Cane explained.

“I had no idea.”

“Really?”

“I swear. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was being awkward like that.”

Cane looked at him for a moment before he yawned and shivered. He could see Vic replaying the events of the last day to try and pinpoint where he went wrong.

“Hey, I’m not tryin’ t’make you self conscious, I’m happy you’re interested in someone. I’ve been worried 'bout you, Vic. Losin’ Cash was hard on all of us but it wrecked you... you lost your husband, that would devastate anyone. I haven’t seen you look this… well, alive’s not the right word… energetic and happy, things you haven’t been in almost a year. I don’t want you t’feel weird 'bout it, but be aware that you’re comin’ on a bit strong. I’m all for you livin’ your life like a boys’ love comic just… maybe make it a slow burn. Take your time, wait ’til season two rolls ’round before you get hot ’n heavy,” Cane said gently, tone understanding and soft.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’m not sure what it is… I can’t take my eyes off of him. I didn’t realize I was being that intense about it,” Vic admitted.

“And that’s fine, just try not t’look like you want t’eat him. He’s the first fresh blood in the Wood in years, don’t mistake excitement for infatuation, and don't jump on him just ’cause he’s new and cute. I’m sure you’re aware of your emotions more than any of us ever will be, you’re old and wise beyond your years, so you know your heart best… but you’re still grievin’, don’t rush headlong into somethin’ that’ll get you both hurt.”

Vic nodded. He whispered a soft thank you and turned his eyes to the graveyard with his gaze moving toward the place his dearly beloved was laid to rest. Cane patted him on the shoulder and excused himself to head to bed, telling him to make himself at home and that he’d see him in a few hours around lunchtime when he was more coherent. He knew the mayor needed to take in the truth that was dropped on top of him, and having the ability to do so in the muggy morning air with the absence of sun would be beneficial for him.

As the carpenter walked back into his house, he swung by the living room to check on Rhys and the fire. He could understand Vic’s draw to him; the newcomer radiated a kind and welcoming energy, and it was blatantly obvious that he was sicker than he let on, so a worry over his wellbeing came with the territory of having him in their lives. That was fine by Cane, he liked having something to protect, and he wanted the young herbalist to thrive.

Once he was sure Rhys was resting soundly and the fire would last, Cane wandered into the back half of the house and his warm, welcoming bed. He was dragging, and he was thankful Rhys offered to push the day's tasks back a bit.

As he walked into his bedroom, he felt his lips curl into a large smile. Cas stood in the closet with a selection of sweaters in their hands and a quizzical look on their face as they tried to determine which shade of black best suited their mood today. They merely turned their eyes toward him to acknowledge his presence.

“I’m headin’ t’bed, Cas,” Cane mumbled with a yawn, “Wake me in a few hours, please? You should go with the v-neck.”

“I’ll be in my office working on that painting for a while if you need me in the interim,” they replied as they hung the turtleneck sweater up, opting to listen to their husband and wear the v-neck instead. “Can you cinch me up?”

“Don’t wear a corset t’day,” Cane whispered as he set his hands on their hips, “Be cozy, let yourself relax. Switch out those slacks for somethin' breathable and let yourself be comfortable. It’s the weekend, and you don’t have nothin’ goin’ on. I will cinch you up, if you insist, but you’ll look cute with that baggy sweater on and your hair a right mess. Up t’you, just know you don’t need it t’day if you want t’be informal. None of us mind.”

They kissed him softly and slid the sweater on over their body. They turned to look at their reflection in the coffin-shaped mirror that hung on the wall, bit their thumbnail and studied their figure. Cane returned his hands to their waist and set his cheek against theirs.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered. 

“I don’t feel beautiful,” they replied.

“Bad day up here?” Cane asked as he tapped their forehead.

“Yes, I’m anxious.”

“Go get some of that tea Rhys brought you and go paint, take your mind off things. Everythin’ is gonna be alright, I promise. Come get me if you need me. Want me t’cinch you up?”

Cas shook their head to let him know they would try to relinquish that need to look proper—at least, for a while.

They folded their corset and set it on the dresser, opting to stay in their slacks to try and feel a bit more professional but still taking the baby steps to believe their husband when he promised that they did not need to impress anyone. It was a struggle for them to relax, to switch out the suits for something soft and flexible. They felt the power of their legacy, of the town and their heritage that weighed on them so heavily, and it caused a swelling need to be perfect that throttled their ability to breathe deeply and take a moment for themself. They couldn’t remember the last time they simply stopped and took some time for themself.

“You look stunnin’,” Cane promised as he laid his head down on the plush, silk-covered pillow.

“Get some sleep,” Cas said gently before they turned the lights out and left their husband to his nap. They scooped up their dirty coffee mug and walked to the kitchen with soft footsteps, stopping briefly when they saw Vic washing the dishes in the sink. They were surprised to see him there.

“I can get that,” Cas said with little emotion.

“It’s fine, I’m wide awake,” Vic replied.

They stood awkwardly for a few minutes. Neither of them were sure what to say. The mayor and the mortician found starting conversations hard despite the fact Vic had known them their entire life. They didn’t have much in common aside from a passion for literature and their shared love for the late Cassius, and without him to mediate between them—to bridge the gap that was turning into a ravine—they had no reason to converse.

“I’m surprised you still have that jam,” Vic noted as he set the washed mug on the drying rack.

“I guess I got used to you coming over for breakfast on Sundays, I didn’t have the heart to throw it out. You can take it if you want, it's a newer batch,” Cas said with a shrug.

“So you won’t have to deal with me anymore?”

Cas bit their lip, “That’s not what I meant. I meant… I don’t know what I meant. You stopped showing up so I didn’t… I don’t…”

Vic finally turned to look at them, he leaned against the counter and exhaled, “I don’t either. I wasn’t sure you wanted me around, and I didn’t want to bring up more trauma with my presence. I haven’t been around in a while, huh? Guess I never asked, I’m sorry.”

“No… no you haven’t, and no you didn't. You are welcome anytime… not just on Sundays… I… it’s quiet here,” Cas said lowly, their painted nails tapped aggressively on their coffee mug before they set it in the sink.

Vic was awash with realization. He felt a pang of guilt run through his ribs. The soft tremble in Cas’ voice was noticeable even through their attempt at hiding it. He smiled a bit and looked at them with a seriousness in his gaze, one meant to portray that he heard and understood. That, despite the tension, he knew what they were trying to tell him.

“You still haven’t left the house since he died, have you?” Vic inquired with concern.

“No,” they replied flatly.

“Then I’ll come by for breakfast more often… I’m sorry, Cas. For everything.”

“So am I,” they looked down at their empty, heavily stained mug. “Make yourself at home.”

The mayor watched them hurry off to their office before he let the tension in his shoulders drop. He had no earthly idea of how to conduct himself around them. It was impossible to believe that the awkward, stern mortician was related—let alone the twin—of his beloved, bright and shining Cassius. They were worlds apart, the literal sun and moon that orbited around him and his world was so dark now. He knew Cas’ world was dimming, too.

He stood in the kitchen, in the silence, and contemplated life, his place in the world and the Wood, and the strange new soul that blew into his life like a tornado. One that slept soundly on the couch just across the way. It was going to be a long weekend.

Vic sighed angrily. The afterlife shouldn’t be this complicated.