Third Person's POV.
The silence that followed Gemini's quiet admission about the mountains was different from the strained silence earlier.
The younger boy has a thoughtful and unexpected innocence in his voice whenever he speaks. Daphne felt the remnants of her earlier jealousy beginning to vanish, replaced by a flicker of empathy. She'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings—in frustration and resentment that Percy's attention to Gemini had created—that she hadn't truly looked at the boy himself.
He wasn't an adversary or a symbol of her own tangled emotions; he was just a kid with a simple dream. His words resonated with her own deep-seated desire to escape the cage of her family's expectations. She had dreams of freedom, too, of a life lived on her own terms, far from the polished pageant crowns and endless beauty rules.
Daphne's gaze traced the lines of the wood grain on the table before lifting to meet Penelope's eyes. Her friend offered a subtle, knowing smile—the kind that conveyed a whole conversation without a single word. Penelope understood the complex dynamics of their group, the subtle hierarchies and unspoken expectations they all carried. She was their anchor, always finding the best in people and gently nudging the others toward compassion.
Cole, ever the one to puncture a moment of seriousness, cleared his throat.
"Alright, alright, enough with the deep thoughts. I'll admit, the mountains are cool, but have you ever considered the beach, Gemini? Think of the possibilities—surf, sun, sand castles with the ladies." He winked, his mischievous grin back in place.
Gemini gave a small chuckle this time. "I like the beach, too," he admitted, "but the mountains feel... like a different world."
Daphne watched Percy then, who was still leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his attention absolute. He hadn't said much since the beginning of the meal, letting Penelope and Cole take the lead, yet his silence wasn't indifferent. It was observant. His eyes were soft as they rested on Gemini.
She took a deep breath, wanting to contribute something genuine, something that showed she was finally seeing Gemini as an individual.
"My family has a place out East, near the Rockies," she offered, her voice steady now. "It's nothing fancy because my grandpa is all about originality, but the air... it feels cleaner up there. Like you can breathe for the first time."
Gemini's head snapped toward her, his eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah," Daphne nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Maybe... maybe you could see them someday." The words felt oddly heavy, a quiet promise offered across the divide of their social worlds.
It was a small gesture, perhaps, but it felt enormous to Daphne—a step out of her own tangled emotions and into a shared moment of simple human connection. She saw Penelope's look of approval, and even Cole gave her an encouraging nod.
For the first time since he had sat down at their table, Gemini didn't look like a nervous mouse poised for flight. He looked, simply, like a boy who had just been given a chance to prove himself.
The dinner table, momentarily quiet after Daphne's offer, now buzzed with a shared, comfortable warmth replacing the earlier tension with a fragile new sense of ease.
"The Rockies sound incredible, Daphne," Penelope chimed in, leaning back with a fond look. "It reminds me of that disaster trip we had in Vermont when we were twelve."
Cole snorted, setting down his fork. "Disaster is an understatement. You three convinced me that a moose was stalking our cabin. I slept with a flashlight and a cast iron skillet for three nights."
Daphne laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even herself.
"You were terrified! And it was clearly a bear, not a moose, Cole." She turned to Gemini, a conspiratorial smile softening her face. "The worst part was, the only thing 'stalking' the cabin was a very hungry chipmunk trying to steal Penelope's granola bars."
Gemini smiled again, a more relaxed curve of his lips this time. He seemed grateful to be merely an observer in their long-running joke, not the focus of their attention.
Penelope picked up the thread, her eyes twinkling with memory. "But even with the 'bear' and the cold, those trips were the best. Remember that time in the Hamptons? Cole tried to surf and ended up getting tangled in a fishing net, pretending he was a mermaid."
"Hey! That was a jellyfish sting, and I was retrieving a lost flip-flop!" Cole protested, though the smile pulling at his mouth betrayed him. "At least I wasn't the one who bought that ridiculous, oversized sunhat and then spent the entire week hiding under it." He glanced pointedly at Daphne.
"It was chic!" Daphne declared, rolling her eyes playfully. "And it served its purpose. I was not going to be seen in the same swimsuit twice, which is more than I can say for some people."
Percy, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "In his defense, It was the only swimsuit Cole brought."
Cole threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "See, Gemini? This is what I deal with. A lifetime of judgment over one piece of practical swimwear."
Gemini watched the easy banter flow between them—the shared glances, the instant understanding, the history stretching back years and sealed by dozens of private, funny memories. It was clear their bond was deeply woven, a tapestry of privilege and inside jokes. He felt a pang, not of jealousy, but of simple longing for that kind of ingrained security.
Penelope must have sensed his withdrawal, because she gently addressed him. "We can be a bit much," she admitted with a warm smile. "But those trips are important—they're how we learned to put up with each other. Where did you used to go in the summers, Gemini?"
He hesitated, a shadow passing over his expression before he offered a quiet answer. "Mostly, I stayed close to home. Sometimes I'd go to the public library downtown. It was really big. That was my vacation."
The cheerful air around the table immediately softened. The contrast between their tales of the Rockies, the Hamptons, and a public library downtown was stark, but Penelope handled the moment with her usual grace.
"The library can be a fantastic vacation," she said sincerely. "You get to visit a new world every day without the hassle of packing a suitcase."
Daphne nodded, her initial envy of him completely vanished, replaced by a genuine respect for his quiet life. She remembered the suffocating formality of her own family's vacations—the strict itineraries, the expectation of social performance. Maybe his library "vacation" had been the truly freeing one.
Percy, without saying a word, reached out and slid the bread basket closer to Gemini, a small, unspoken gesture of inclusion.
Cole, sensing the need for a shift, cleared his throat. "Well, if you're into libraries, you're going to love Percy's family Mansion. The entire east wing is basically a book museum because of Percy. You could get lost in there for a week."
As the talk shifted to the size of Percy's books collection, Gemini finally began to relax fully. He saw them now not as a united front of unattainable privilege, but as four distinct people—a jokester, a peacemaker, an edgy beauty queen, and a quiet protector—who just happened to share a very long, very complicated history. And for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope that he, too, might someday be part of the stories they told.