Archive of Our Own

Kinger and his family have been living in the new house together for two months now. Things have gone as well as could be expected. Arguments here and there, unfortunate old habits bringing up painful reminders. Yet also support, understanding. A special kind of relief that he didn’t need to recover alone or with people who never understood him. He actually felt safe sleeping in his room here, the fear of Caine’s eyes only a suggestion.

It was a relief to hear just support and love when he asked if they could refrain from changing the lights for him in his room, at least without asking. Zooble went a step further and (with permission) installed blackout curtains and a set of lights that dimmed, with a remote to control them and even program them. Having that remote in his hand gave him a comfort he didn’t know he needed. The autonomy was kind of euphoric after a while of being at the whim of an egocentric AI or someone else who thought they knew better deciding when and where he would have his lucidity. 

At some point he started collecting not just pillows in his room, but blankets, stuffed animals, giant beanbag chairs, and huge cushions. It wasn’t entirely his fault! A lot of them were gifts. Also, the others kept bringing their own when they came into his room at night. They often had nightmares and his door was always open (literally and metaphorically, he panicked when it was closed too long).

So, often he’d end up waking up with one of his kids sleeping against his chest, surrounded in a fortress of safety and comfort. In the morning light he didn’t remember why they came to see him, and that worked just fine for not scaring them off. Kinger didn’t mind not remembering sometimes. They could tell him anything and know he wouldn’t act differently in the day. 

It was clear they all had a bit of trauma from the snow incident. They were all a little more attached to him. A little more anxious to let him out of their sight. It had certainly been a wake-up call for everybody (himself included) to remember how dangerous reality could be.

Luckily, he was healing well. His ribs only gave the occasional twinge now, and his cast had come off a bit ago, allowing him to walk normally. (Though he was still barred from anything too hard on the knees.) Ragatha took him to physical therapy every week and they all traded off doing stretches with him, though he was able to remember to do those on his own after the first week or so. If he forgot, he always had a visit from his caretaker to remind him.

Mental recovery was a slightly different story. The concussion made it easier to slip back into the Circus. Easier to be afraid because of it. Easy to forget even in the dark. Old memories sometimes jogged loose in the light, displacing him at strange times, other times granting a boon of clarity. In the dark, he often got headaches from years of trauma crashing down too fast, but in too much light the pain was worse. Slowly it all got better, though. 

What helped the most was making new memories. Eating together, making things together (he did, with help, figure out how to bake edible bread), going places together. Kinger loved the insect house of the local zoo. They went out to parks and pools and museums and restaurants and enjoyed choosing the life they didn't get to live before.

Honestly, all they still needed was something fun to do together regularly at home that didn’t feel mandatory. When Kinger came to this realization, he encouraged sharing favorite media, recommending they all take turns picking shows or movies. 

They agreed. Inevitably, they settled into a routine.

♔ ♔ ♔

It was movie night tonight in the house of survivors. This night was a little different, though.

It hadn't been a great day to begin with. The darkest days had passed (more than literally), but Kinger still struggled with the relatively short window of daylight that followed in winter’s footsteps. It seemed that too much darkness was also not very good for him. For the last few days, his brain kept wandering even after the sun went down. Normally it was a little easier to think after sundown, even with the lights on staving off the inevitable haunting clarity. Lately he was confused, though, and he couldn't help his long trained-in tendency to seek the darkness when confused.

That’s why the last two days he’d been hiding in his fortress room a lot, with the light off and only his firefly nightlight to read by among the giant beanbags. But, most of the time he just sat there, wanting to leave but being unable to. He’d just find himself back in the dark again eventually. He hated feeling trapped. 

Talking was a struggle lately when his family invited him to do things, usually just managing an “I’m okay” when asked how he was. Easier phrase, even if it wasn't descriptive. It wasn't finding the words that was hard, but getting them past his lips. Usually muscle memory guided him, but not this time.

The concussion probably hadn't helped in that regard. He thought he was able to get away with it, nods and pointing could get you a decent way. Though only answering yes or no questions wore you down pretty fast and reminded him too much of when he first woke up in the real world again. Luckily just standing there and staring was also a pretty normal gig for him. 

Kinger couldn't hide it when he startled frequently, though. Once it was his hair in the corner of his vision at the grocery store. Another time, the sensation of his facial hair when he tried eating dinner. 

That night, when he shrieked at Gangle for touching his elbow, they realized something was really up with him. 

“Hey, fossil, you remember us?” Jax asked bluntly as he played on his Gameboy (it looked kinda like a Gameboy, at least), clearly also not in the greatest of moods. 

Zooble glared at him from the kitchen, where they had been cleaning the stove. Jax didn't look up to see it.

Kinger had been staring at them all with bewilderment, trying and failing to remember their real names. It felt like he was supposed to. It wasn't that bright. Wait, did he ever learn them properly? Did he learn his own? No, wait, he was supposed to just know his now, after they got their bodies back. But he didn't. It wasn't that bright. 

“Kinger?” Gangle ventured, still at his side, hand hovering but not touching. Her hand fit neatly in his when he cautiously took it. 

“Noo, it's… fine,” he managed. His tongue and lips settled together oddly. Right, he didn't need to use his ‘real’ name anymore, he’s pretty sure.

“No, you don't remember us?” Ragatha asked from her perch on the barstool, promptly forgetting the banana she'd been nibbling at. Her eye peered at him with real concern.

He remembered, he did! Kinger shook his head, then nodded, thought, then tipped his head. Wait, should it be yes, no, or no, yes? 

“Uh…” Ragatha clearly struggled to interpret that.

“Rem-ehn-mber,” he finagled. Ugh, even that much felt weird.

Zooble leaned against the counter nearby, crossing their arms. “I can't tell if he's answering or parroting,” they said quietly.

“I think he knows,” Gangle said, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back. “He doesn’t entirely forget us.”

“He's fine, he just said so,” Jax said absently. “Don't fuss over him.” 

Ragatha's pinched face didn't ease.

“Okay, so, after vetoing nearly all of Jax's horror collection, I think I found one that might actually be fun,” Pomni said, entering the room holding a DVD case. He remembered it was a pain to find a working DVD player to actually watch any of their media from before. No one owned their media anymore. How did people live like this nowadays? 

“Hold on, movie night might have to shift gears today,” Ragatha said, approaching Kinger. 

“What? Why? We’ve delayed horror night for like three weeks!” Jax complained, sitting up on his elbows from the couch.

Pomni frowned, also coming closer.

Kinger tried to not feel boxed-in, and failed. He gulped. That was four. Four of them standing and staring at him was more attention than anyone really paid him in the Circus. He slouched awkwardly and withdrew his hand, fiddling with his bare fingers that had one too many digits. One-two-three-four. Four people, four fingers. Huh.

They looked at him expectantly. Did they ask him something? “What?” 

Their faces shifted, and not in the happy direction. He scrunched a little further and counted again. One-two-three-four.

Gangle noticed his distress. “Zooble, can you get his blanket?” She instructed. Zooble left. He relaxed a little when the inspection ceased. 

“...We didn't have to have a horror night at all,” Ragatha reminded Jax, hands on her hips. 

Pomni approached the TV and set down her find. “You were around him the most today. Is he…?” She asked Gangle, but trailed off. What was she going to ask? Here? Lucid? Dissociating? Cuckoo?

“Not really. He hasn't talked much at all today, either,” Gangle reported. To be honest, he didn't remember much of today, but that sounded right.

Pomni nodded. She reached for the floor lamp.

Kinger blinked as the lamp was switched. It was just a little darker now, but he didn't feel any different. Anxiety spidered across his shoulders and down his arms. One-two-three-four. 

Ragatha and Jax argued over the wisdom of a horror night in a house of trauma survivors. It felt like they’d had this conversation before.

Gangle gently guided him to his armchair and Zooble covered him in his butterfly blanket. He cozied into it. It did help.

They were all discussing other options (Spirited Away again or The Martian currently) when he managed to get his sounds in the right shape. “Horroor night, please,” he said. He really didn't want to cause them any worry or anything. Expressing he was okay to continue would hopefully do that. He was just having an off couple of days. One-two-three-four.

“See? He knows what's going on, it's fiiine,” Jax said. “We’ve all gotta respect his wishes, or whatever, right?” 

“Really? We don't have to,” Zooble asked Kinger. He nodded.

Ragatha hummed. “If you're sure,” she sighed. “I guess we are going to be watching in the dark, anyway.” 

“If d…ark, it's ok,” Kinger smiled lopsidedly. He felt awkward tripping over his words, but none of his family drew attention to it.

“Alright. I don't think it will be that scary, hopefully,” Pomni said. “It seemed kind of funny if anything. Everyone should take a look, though,” she said, indicating its case before pulling out a blanket to cozy up under.

“Oh, you picked this one? Nice. I never actually got around to watching it,” Jax said, turning over the box. Ragatha peered around his shoulder.

“Where'd that popcorn go?” Zooble called from the kitchen. When did they leave? 

“Ah, I got it out already!” Gangle went to help them. 

Ragatha handed him the DVD case. Just barely remembering to take off his glasses to read, he honestly couldn't really discern much from it. It seemed somewhat goofy? Caine's preambles were more informative. 

Kinger blinked and it was gone. Oh, he didn't really mind what they watched, anyway.

With the popcorn popped and distributed (individual bowls, Jax would hog a shared one), and the movie put in, next went the lights. He didn't remember anything at first. One-two-three-four.

The start of the movie was fine. Funny even. The main couple actually liked each other, which was nice. The side characters weren’t too flat or stereotypical. When the main characters were finally all introduced and isolated (in an abandoned building–he missed why), the monster appeared. It was a goofy goop monster, terribly slow. He was reminded of the fudge monster, if it didn't have eyes. It was dark now. He missed Queenie. One-two-three-four.

Then, progressively, the tension grew. The sludge grew and multiplied. The characters were slowly chased from one location to the next, able to run but never escape. One character tripped and fell into the black sludge, assumed dead. Gooseflesh tickled his arms. He also missed Caine sometimes, which caused him great conflicting emotions when he remembered he's never coming back. One-two-three-four. He squeezed each finger.

Then the monster started growing eyes with each victim it took. The characters grew short with each other, stressed, trapped. The fallen side character came back injured. Different. Angry, closed off. The monster started getting spikier, spasming with each method the cast used to fight back. He remembered. It was his fault. He was why they were gone forever. He was why she was trapped in the Cellar. One-two-three-four, he squeezed harder.

The unease and tension in the room grew, and grew, the music becoming booming and high-strung, thundering out a heartbeat in time with the angry, hurt character’s yelling.

Then with a shattering, sickening burst, the woman violently metamorphosed. She lurched and warped into a gory, gloopy, towering mass. Then, it grew spikes and piercing, glowing eyes. He didn't want to remember, didn't want to see– One-two-three– 

It wasn't immediate, which was worse, arms hanging off giant eyes and empty eye sockets warped around bulging needle teeth. Her voice still echoed from its mouths. It was horrifying, bloodier than any abstraction he’d seen before.

Oh no, not again he didn't think it would happen again Caine said it wouldn't happen–

A whimper and the scene halted, freezing the abstraction mid-biting one of the NPC’s heads off. He felt numb. Was he breathing? Was he real?

Why are they attacking him? This is his friend don't they remember him–

It took a hand on his trembling shoulder to startle him out of it and realize that awful dying animal sound was him. When did he start curling around himself? His hands were half-covering his face, and there's some kind of garbled sound spilling from him but all he could hear was–

Don't hurt me I’m sorry I’ll fix it I’ll help you I’ll get Caine please please–

The light was blocked by a tall shape. He couldn't see the abstraction anymore. Did they go to the cellar? Faded shapes on the wall were lit by a faint glow. Shadows moved and danced and someone was quietly arguing something about light, his face felt wrong, wrong like the abstraction–

Red hair. Ragatha. Ragatha was there. Remember that.

Stay please Caine where are you help them help us why do you never help them–

Someone's emphatic “–He's having a flashback, light would–”

Squeezing tighter, clinging to reality. He can't see it but it's still there, he heard it roaring–

“–at me, Kinger, focus on me–” He dragged his eyes over, away from the abstraction. Ragatha's face looked different, but it's her. “Hey, hey there, that's good,” Ragatha reached for his glove. He slowly let her gingerly pry it off his face. He was clutching so hard it felt like he scratched the wood. 

An angry and afraid, “–just make it worse–” 

Stop screaming I’m sorry don't crush me oh god it hurts it hurts help me–

He just wanted to see his friend’s face again. 

Something warm and heavy gently draped over his shoulders and he flinched. Pain bloomed on the side of his face, spreading throughout his body in a cascading corruption of senses, like he was being sliced apart and sewn back together wrong over and over and–

“–stay focused on me, –?” 

Why why did they hurt him did he deserve this why is his body being torn apart what is happening is he dying–

He just wanted it to stop hurting.

“He's hurting himself–”

Why is nobody helping him what's going to happen to him will he be in this pain forever is he going to abstract too–

“Wait, don't–”

The ghost sensation of fingers on his wrists made him jump back with a wet yelp. He kicked out and hit something fleshy. His back hit something squishy and warm, he couldn't breathe, his vision’s warped and blurry, where the hell was Queenie where was he–

“Can I turn it on now?”

I'm sorry I forgot you I’m sorry honey please don't go come back I miss you please–

He just wanted to see her one last time.

“Fuck, okay. Do it.”

Click

♔ ♔ ♔

The next thing he remembered was registering a woman beside him with a slight jump. She was holding his hand, looking upset. It's Ragatha, he knows her. She's telling him to breathe. Was he not? Oh, he's gasping. With effort, he breathed intentionally, slowing his inhales, controlling his wild exhales. Ah. She's happier now. He liked making her happy. It's brighter than it was before. It was dark before? Oh, he’d forgotten.

Distantly his head ached. His face was wet. Very intense adrenaline still rushed through his simulated synapses. Did they just do a car chase? In the rain? There's popcorn all over his lap. Kinger adjusted his robe. No, that's a blanket. That’s odd.

Wait, someone's talking to him still. Ragatha. 

“–gner, you’re safe, okay? No one can hurt you.”

He tipped his head. Well, of course, no one can hurt them in the Tent. Not until they do another in-house adventure. 

Huh, she looked more upset again. His voice sounded off somehow, maybe that was why?

Trying to assure her she was going to be alright and that they had each other here just made her face shutter completely. 

Zooble gently guided her away, muttering soft assurances. He's not sure what he did wrong.

Gangle came in her place and sincerely tried to tell him he’s safe, too. Kinger was just growing more confused. She asked him to count things. What he sees? He got through counting all the popcorn in his lap before he forgot why he was counting. 

Oh, Gangle! Gangle's here!

Gangle also frowned and retreated, after she tried explaining the counting game a couple more times.

Jax told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to hurt himself. Kinger wasn't in the habit, though? Then Jax dabbed his face with something that stung. That was a mean prank, why… Things went fuzzy again.

Pomni tried giving him a fluffy pillow. It’s very nice to run his fingers through, but he’s not sure what he’s expected to do with it. Can he keep this for his fortress? She told him yes but she sounded unsure. He told her she should keep it if she couldn't part with it. She insisted it was his, and he smiled as much as he was able to show his gratitude.

They asked what he needed. He ordered a turducken burger with extra feathers. Unfortunately none were available. His Circus mates seemed at a loss for what to do about him. Kinger felt the same.

He kind of…floated there, in the Circus, for a bit.  The Circus mates around him all checked in with him at various points, which was very sweet. They asked him where they are every so often, which he answered with cheerful confidence. Where else would they be but the Tent? He was getting a little concerned that they're starting to become as forgetful as he is! 

Someone suggested activities and he happily agreed. He has vague memories of go-fish and nature documentaries and drawing butterflies but not what order or who did what. The entire time a pervasive buzz in the back of his head told him something wasn’t entirely right. That was just the backdrop of the Circus, though. He wasn't sure why it bothered him today.

Kinger found a bunch of giant cushions in a random room (with a fantastic insect collection that he stared at for awhile). Systematically, he built a new fortress out in the main room with them like he had countless times before. He even found blankets! He could make something even better with them.

That night he didn't remember much, even though he knew he was supposed to once in the dark safety of his fortress. Why did he remember remembering but not remember what he wanted to remember? The thought made him dizzy. 

It was still comforting to cozy up under all the pillows, at least. 

Kinger had friends visit his fortress. They even helped him expand it so everyone could fit, using a couch as structural support. When they joined him inside he was very pleased, even if they were not happy for some reason.

It definitely upset them when he accidentally called someone by an old friend’s name. Oh, he was more off than usual today. He apologized with genuine contrition, but that didn't seem to fix it. All he got were return apologies. Very confusing. The only thing that seemed to ease their troubles were awkward hugs and reassurances that he was okay (they were oddly preoccupied with his wellbeing). That, and the promise of a slumber party in the fortress. Secretly, he’s beyond relieved they didn't go back to their rooms. 

The Circus cast chatted with each before bed. Talked about things that seemed strange to him. Once he was sure they mentioned going somewhere, but not for an adventure? And someone other than Caine coming here tomorrow? Who? A dozen times over he lost the thread, but that's okay. Someone may have asked him where he was and he didn't know how to answer. Several spilled from his mouth, he thinks, but none of them satisfied the asker. Oh well. It didn't feel great to talk right now anyway. He was bone-tired.

That night he had nonsensical dreams about fudge and bullseyes and buckets and bees and drowning. He woke up more than once to check on his friends. Anxiety filled him at the thought they could just vanish while he was asleep. 

A very nice NPC in scrubs came to visit the next day. She gently coaxed him out of his fortress with the promise of cute pictures of insects. They were, indeed, cute. Then she helped him do what they were calling ‘little adventures’: stretching, eating food, showering, changing clothes, and going to the bathroom. They did make him feel better, even if they were odd things to do in the digital realm. 

After that he looked for Caine for their daily adventure, like normal. But he got stopped short by the NPC before he could search beyond the doors. This caused him some mild distress before his friends found them.

His Circus mates imploringly asked him not to go on any (regular size) adventures without them. Kinger wouldn't, he doesn't think, but maybe he did and he doesn't remember? He promised not to regardless.

Instead, he helped do the others’ little adventures like folding clothes and cleaning, especially the dishes. He was good at that one. It felt good to help them, even though he was feeling kind of slow today, like trying to think through molasses. Moving, too, took more effort than it should have. At some point Zooble stopped him and told him he didn't have to do little adventures if he didn't want to. Oh.

Kinger did the bathroom adventure all on his own after his nurse had gone, then he sat down on the porch swing with Pomni. It was surprisingly sunny, though he wasn't sure why that was surprising, the Circus always had perfect weather. She was talking about exploring something. He was having trouble responding, his face felt odd. So he didn't say much, but that was okay. Pomni was nice to listen to.

The more he thought about it though, the more he wondered why his face felt like one end of an electric tube. It felt like he’d stopped asking why a long time ago, but maybe this time it would be okay. Little things weren’t adding up. Was this the normal disorientation or something else? He fiddled with his fingers. Gloves? Hands? Gloves? One-two-three-four. 

…Oh. 

Kinger blinked. Squinting, he shielded his eyes. It was still quite bright out, but something familiar dropped in and settled in his head. 

Right.

There were birds on the lawn, pecking at the wet earth after it rained this morning and the remnants of that birdseed he’d bought on a whim. Light hurt his eyes, even though his new transition lenses were working. The scratches on his face stung slightly. He didn't like the ghost of winter touching his slippered feet. Pomni had stopped talking. Did he forget to respond?

“I should call my therapist,” he said suddenly. The words came out easily.

Pomni's head whipped over to him. 

Kinger looked back at her owlishly. He blinked slowly. 

“Uh, yeah, I– that's a good call,” Pomni said hesitantly, nodding. She looked a little worried, which was fair. The bags under her eyes looked worse again since last week.

Kinger breathed, in and out. His glasses were askew. He straightened them, but they sat off still. “...Could you help me tell her the first part of the story? I’m… still not quite sure what happened before the light went on.” he fiddled. One-two-three-four. 

“Oh! Yeah, that's– I can do that.” She relaxed a fraction. 

Pushing off the ground made the swing rock gently. “Are you sure? No pressure,” he assured. 

“No, no, I’d be happy to.” Pomni smiled. 

Kinger smiled back. Right, smiling. It didn't get old. 

“Thank you,” he said warmly. Mindful of his complaining knee, he stood slowly. Something he had done was not on his approved activities list. He offered her a hand to get up. She accepted. The tension loosened in her hand as he held on while leading them inside. 

His family were in the main room, and none of them looked happy. Gone was Jax's Gameboy (wait, that was definitely not what it was called),  he hid in a hoodie instead. Gangle was scribbling furiously on a sketchbook page, several crumpled on the floor beside her. Zooble was relentlessly channel-surfing, and Ragatha was stress-baking. Ooh, cookies? Wait, don't get distracted, Kinger.

“Oh boy, could we all use another talk about self-blame? Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, half-joking. 

“Kinger!” Several called his name in relief. Gangle leapt up, vibrating in a way that reminds him of her manic episodes. She circled around him once before hugging him. 

Ragatha had no such ritual and simply coated him in flour from her apron as she pressed against him. He chuckled and hugged them both back. 

Zooble and Pomni hung back and gave each other nods. 

Jax sat up and hesitantly rubbed his neck. “So you're…back?” 

Kinger blinked. “Back from where? Outside?” he looked up from his eager embrace of two of his kids.

Jax looked concerned and exasperated, a rarely open expression.

Zooble rolled their eyes. “He wants to know if you still think you're in the Circus, goofball.” 

“Oh! Yes!” He lit up. “Wait. No! No I don't. Though it's a bit fuzzy still.” He held his chin.

Gangle pulled away. “Uh, I wouldn't normally ask, but, uhm, what…do you remember?” 

He wasn't sure how to answer that. It was quite bright in here. A collection of pillows and blankets sat half-collapsed beside the couch. Oh. Ragatha sniffled and apologized quietly for getting his robe covered in flour.

Pomni rescued him. “He doesn’t remember exactly what happened, yet.” 

Kinger tipped his head. “The pieces are fitting together, slowly.” He held Ragatha's face and stroked her cheek with a thumb. “I remember you helping me calm down, my dear. Thank you.” 

Ragatha smiled sheepishly and gave his hand a squeeze back. “It was nothing, Dad.” Warmth filled his heart. 

Jax huffed. “As long as you're not about to take off through imagined portals, then you remember enough, I guess.” 

Zooble tensed and lightly kicked Jax's foot. 

Kinger just laughed. “No, no portals.” 

Zooble’s stiff shoulders relaxed. “That's good.” 

Gangle smiled, small but pleased. “I’m glad you're feeling better,” she clasped her hands together.

Kinger nodded slowly. Better than before, but still off-balance. Was he ever not off-balance, though?

Pomni angled her head towards his room. “Did you want to do that phone call now?”

“Ah–Yes, probably best to do sooner,” Kinger agreed. 

“Is everything ok?” Gangle asked.

“I just want to call my therapist. It's kind of unusual for me to have such a vivid flashback like that,” he explained, nervously chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck. “I remember that much.”

Gangle and Zooble frowned. Jax winced. 

Ragatha released him. “Oh, that's a good idea. Cookies will be ready when you're done!” 

Pomni helped him explain why Kinger had a flashback, and then she left him to talk to his therapist alone in his dim room.

His therapist (an open-minded lady named Aqua) assured him that it was perfectly understandable that his brain reacted how it did to a stimulus that simulated his trauma. She guided him through a set of grounding questions, then recommended having a plan in place with his family for if something like that happened again. Also, she told him that there were sites to check movies for common triggers beforehand. That was actually quite useful. She asked him to create a physical list of grounding techniques that he and his family could reference when he forgot. He agreed and started writing some ideas in his journal.

She let him go after he agreed to take it easy and to talk about it more at their next meeting.

The cookies smelled delightful, ginger and oatmeal, with a plain chocolate chip batch already being devoured by Jax (he hated oatmeal). 

They all found seats in the living room. Zooble started a fire in the fireplace as the sun’s warmth started to fade. 

Cookies were brought out stacked on plates. Ragatha was already chewing a mouthful.

Kinger took one after everybody else. He nibbled it slowly at first, but the muscle memory of eating came easily this time. They were heavenly, and he told Ragatha so.

A silly baking show that he vaguely remembered played on the TV. They ate their cookies. His journal page slowly got filled with ideas.

“I probably scared you all a lot, didn't I?” He started. It must have been tough to watch if the scratches on his face were anything to go by.

The awkward silence and lack of denial was honest, at least. 

“Shitless,” Jax admitted, looking down with a grimace. Kinger hoped he wasn't beating himself up.

“It wasn't your fault,” Ragatha said to Kinger, rubbing her arm. He knew that but it was nice to hear. “I think we were all a little shaken by that movie.” 

He nodded. “Thank you everybody, for your patience and for being here for me,” Kinger said genuinely, shy. He knew it was alarming when someone thought they were back in a traumatic place that you had been, too.

A chorus of assurances rang out.

Jax didn't respond verbally, but nodded. 

“You're okay and you're talking and journaling again!! Of course we’d wait for that!” Gangle smiled broadly at him, bouncing. Yes, he’d help her take caution in the coming days.

Pomni hummed. “You were there when I had a flashback last week. We were just being there for each other, like you always say,” she shrugged with a little smile. He did not remember that, but he's glad she's okay now.

“You pushed yourself for us, of course we'd be there. But, you didn't need to push yourself to do stuff with us if you weren't feeling it,” Zooble said frankly. 

“Right…I’ll be a little more careful,” Kinger agreed. In retrospect he didn't need to require himself to join every activity like they were adventures.

Ragatha hovered sheepishly near his chair. He tipped his head knowingly and patted beside him. She lit up and carefully squished into his armchair, curling up against his side under his outstretched arm. He loved when she did that. 

“...Was it the right thing to do?” Gangle asked, watery.

He looked over. “Huh?” 

“To turn the lights on. Did I make it worse?” she bounced with anxiety now.

Oh, that had been Gangle? No, “You didn't make it worse,” he assured. Then he thought back to what his therapist said. “...But maybe a gentler light at first would help ease things?”

Gangle nodded, still frowning but less. Others made faces like they hadn't thought of that.

“...I’m also compiling a list of things that may be more effective to ground me in the light when I'm that disoriented. Hopefully next time I won't be stuck for a whole day,” he said. That was pretty exhausting, for all parties.

“Next time, let's just watch Finding Dory again,” Ragatha said from his side.

“Nooo,” Jax complained.

Pomni grinned evilly at him. “What? You love that movie!”

“No, I hate it!” Jax said, a little childishly. 

“You cried at the end,” Zooble pointed out.

“Did not!” Jax denied. “It's for babies, anyway.”

Gangle laughed openly. “Let’s watch The Land Before Time, then!”

“Aaargh! Worse! And then Kinger will cry!” Jax protested.

Kinger smiled. “Sure, I’ll cry! We can all cry together!” He blinked. “Wait, do I always cry at that movie?”

“You cry at pretty much every movie, dude.” Zooble said.

They continued their banter in such a fashion, until it was dinnertime, and then bedtime. 

With his pajama-donning adventure complete, he reopened his door to a collection of his kids just beyond, waiting patiently and clutching cushions and blankets they must've collected from the main room. Their eyes were bashful. 

“Oh, did we have a slumber party planned?” he asked. “I didn't stock the sundae bar!” 

“Let us in, already!” Jax grumbled. 

Pomni snuck in between him and the doorframe. “I call the fluffy beanbag!” 

“Wait, you had it last time–” Zooble said.

He stepped aside to let them come pouring in, watching fondly as they expertly assembled a cozy blanket fortress. He taught them well. 

“Ah, don't forget the fairy lights!” Gangle insisted. “And the other side! Hand me that clip!” 

“Kinger, come in! What are you waiting for?” Ragatha gestured him in. 

Picking up the remote, he dulled the lights, before joining his family.

Kinger was so glad to have these people.