The rest of the drive?
Dead. Silent.
Well — at least from Dominic's side of the car.
Because Sasha Clarke?
Oh, sweet summer child.
He didn't know how to shut up even if his life literally depended on it.
There he sat, perched in the passenger seat like a smug little prince, kicking his feet faintly and clutching his tote bag in his lap as though it contained state secrets. His sweater was still crooked. His hair was still a mess. His cheeks were still suspiciously pink.
And his mouth?
Oh, his mouth did not stop moving.
"So the truffles at Ciel?" he began, already gesturing dramatically, "are basically a religious experience. Like, basically a sin, actually. You'd totally hate them though—because you're boring. And sad. Obviously."
THUNK. Dominic's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
But Sasha wasn't even halfway done.
"And the barista? She hates me. But like, secretly loves me. Because every time I ask for extra syrup she rolls her eyes? Which is basically her love language, duh. So we're basically married already."
Dominic's left eyelid twitched.
TWITCH. TWITCH.
At some point, Sasha started humming.
Softly.
Like some delicate little woodland creature in a Disney movie.
He even pressed his cheek against the misty window with a dreamy sigh and whispered:
"Pretty…"
Dominic gripped the steering wheel tighter every time Sasha giggled quietly to himself.
And then.
Oh god.
And then—
It happened.
The radio betrayed him.
🎵 "…I've been watching you… for some time…"
Billie Eilish.
"Ocean Eyes."
Dominic's brow furrowed so hard it could have cracked his skull in two.
SKRRT. His hand shot out to change the station.
But before he even touched the dial—
SMACK!
A scandalized slap landed squarely on his wrist.
"THE AUDACITY!!" Sasha yelled, his entire face lighting up in cartoonish horror. His sweater nearly slid off his shoulder from the force of his outrage.
POOF!
Dominic froze, hand mid-air.
Sasha, gasping, clutched his chest like a telenovela star:
"How DARE you touch Billie in my presence?! Do you have NO shame?!"
BOP. Sasha slapped his hand away, huffing indignantly, and with the gravitas of a queen reclaiming her throne, cranked the volume up himself.
Dominic just… stared.
At the little creature beside him.
The little creature who had just declared war.
And then — oh no — it got worse.
Sasha threw his head back dramatically, eyes fluttering shut like he was feeling the spirit and began to sing along.
🎵 "…Can't stop staring at those ocean eyes…" 🎵
And the worst part?
The absolute worst part?
The boy was actually good.
Like… really, annoyingly good.
Dominic's eye twitched. TWITCH. TWITCH. TWITCH.
Sasha cracked one eye open mid-chorus, caught Dominic staring, and grinned sweetly:
"…You're welcome for gracing you with my voice," he said, before going right back to belting.
By the time they pulled up to Sasha's street, Dominic's right hand was actually cramping from how hard he'd been gripping the wheel.
Then — there it was.
The house.
A big bungalow at the end of the street, painted a color so aggressively pastel it was practically screaming at him. Powder blue, pink shutters, a little white gate.
Dominic blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Of course.
Of course he would live here.
Sasha perked up immediately, bouncing slightly in his seat.
"That's me!" he chirped, pointing eagerly at the house as though Dominic couldn't see the damn thing glowing like a cotton candy explosion.
Dominic pulled the car up to the gate and stopped.
Sasha unbuckled with a happy little click! and grabbed his tote, still humming faintly to himself.
"Thanks for the ride, weird man," he said airily as he slipped out into the light drizzle, his shoes going squeak squeak squeak on the wet path.
Dominic stayed silent.
He watched — because somehow he couldn't not.
Sasha swung the gate open, skipped halfway up the walk like he'd just won the lottery, then paused.
He turned back, standing in the mist, tilting his head faintly, his big glossy eyes blinking curiously.
"You're still staring," he pointed out, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Dominic didn't answer.
Didn't even look away.
Sasha squinted back at him for a beat, then giggled softly to himself.
"You're weird," he added, light as air, before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.
Dominic stayed there a little longer, eyes fixed on the now-closed pink-trimmed door.
The little porch light flickered on.
He hadn't asked the boy's name.
Hadn't even thought to.
But the whole drive back — and for hours afterward — the only thing he could see behind his eyelids was Sasha's wide, soft smile over his shoulder.
Silly and smudged.
And somehow sharp enough to dig under his skin and stay there.
Dominic scowled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror as he muttered under his breath:
"…You're weird."
Sasha kicked his shoes off at the door like they were personally responsible for all his problems. His arms were full — tote bag stuffed to bursting, sweater sleeves halfway covering his hands — and he waddled inside like a flustered penguin on a mission.
Of course, fate being the menace it was, his sock caught the edge of the slick tile and whoop—!
"Eep!" he squeaked, flailing wildly before catching himself against the wall. The little giggle he let out afterwards was far too pleased for someone who had just nearly faceplanted.
The warm, sweet smell of vanilla and cocoa butter hit him like a hug the second he stepped in, and Sasha actually rocked on his heels with a happy little hum, already forgetting his brush with death.
From the kitchen came Brie's sing-song warning, sharp enough to slice bread:
"Sashaaaaa~!"
Almost immediately followed by Harper's voice chiming in from the hallway, still glued to her phone:
"Baby brotheeeer~!"
Sasha beamed like he'd just won a Nobel prize.
"I'm hoooommmmeee~!" he called dramatically, kicking his feet as he plopped his tote down by the couch like a victorious hero.
Brie appeared, wielding a spatula like a weapon, and squinted at him as though he were an alien.
"You're late."
"Way late," Harper added with a smirk, not even looking up from her screen. "What chaos did you unleash this time? Go on. Entertain us."
Sasha wasted no time. He flung himself onto the big pink couch with the grace of a fainting damsel, clutching a throw pillow to his chest like it was a beloved teddy bear.
"Ohhh my gosh," he gasped, dragging every syllable into a full Shakespearean performance, wiggling for extra flair. "You guys won't BELIEVE what happened at the café today."
Brie crossed her arms. Harper finally pocketed her phone, already grinning.
Sasha shot upright, hands already flying around like tiny interpretive dancers.
"So like — right? I go to Ciel, because duh, Friday is chocolate cake day. That's THE rule. And I get the window booth — MY booth — and it's empty. Blessed. Perfect. My little happy place. So I sit and I'm just… living my best life."
He stopped to inhale dramatically.
"And THEN—" he dropped his voice to a horrified whisper, "—this man."
Brie's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"What man?"
Sasha raised his arms above his head like he was describing Bigfoot.
"TALL. Like, scary tall. And his voice? Ugh, all low and grrr and stuff. His hair was—" Sasha made a vague jazz-hands motion above his own head, "—all nice and shiny and annoying! And he just SAT DOWN. Right in front of me. No hi. No excuse me. Just plopped there and glared! Like THIS—"
He scrunched his whole face up in a ridiculous parody of Dominic's glare, puffing his cheeks and furrowing his brows like an angry garden gnome.
Harper cackled immediately. Brie did not look amused.
"And you stayed?" Brie demanded.
Sasha blinked, genuinely confused.
"Well… yeah? He was lonely! I mean, come on, who just sits around glaring like that? That's SAD. So obviously I…" he wiggled his fingers shyly, "…offered him some of my cake?"
Brie smacked her forehead so hard the spatula clanged against her hair.
Harper gasped, clutching her chest.
"Oh my GOD, did he take it?!"
Sasha's pout deepened into a tragic expression.
"NO. He said—" He lowered his voice to an impressively accurate Dominic impersonation. "—'I don't eat cake.'"
Harper shrieked like she'd just heard the punchline of a great joke and collapsed sideways onto the couch.
"Oh no. He's a villain. He's evil. WHO DOESN'T EAT CAKE?!"
"I KNOW," Sasha wailed, flopping back dramatically. "So I told him he was boring! And then he got even MADDER! His eyebrows got all wiggly! And THEN—" Sasha burst into little giggles, hugging his pillow. "He just—he just GRABBED me and WIPED MY MOUTH with a napkin. LIKE I'M FIVE. Who DOES that?!"
Brie was seconds away from bursting a vein.
"And you LET HIM?!"
Sasha gasped, his hands flying to his cheeks as though the gravity of that choice had just dawned on him.
"Oh my GOSH I DID. I DID! THAT'S SO SILLY!"
He rolled around kicking his feet while Harper roared with laughter.
Brie was already pacing.
"You got in some stranger's car, didn't you."
"Oh! Yeah!" Sasha said brightly, as if she'd just reminded him of a fun detail. "It was raining and he was all grr again, and he said 'you coming or not,' so obviously I—"
Brie launched the spatula onto the counter.
"Sasha Benjamin Clarke, have you LOST your mind?!"
Sasha squeaked, curling into a defensive little ball.
"BUT HE DIDN'T MURDER ME! He's just a big angry bear! Like a shiny, grumpy bear!"
Harper was full-on howling now.
"You're soooo dumb, bub."
"I WAS BEING NICE!" Sasha wailed back. "You can't just leave sad, scary, shiny bears by themselves! That's MEAN!"
Brie froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"…Wait. Did he say anything else?"
Sasha fidgeted, pulling at the pillow tassels.
"…Uh. Yeah? He said I was late. And asked me how old I was. And then…" He covered his cheeks again, squeaking, "…he called me a kid."
The room fell silent.
Harper sat up suddenly, her jaw dropping.
"Oh my GOD," she gasped.
Sasha tilted his head, clueless.
"…What?"
Brie leaned in slowly, eyes gleaming like a detective solving the case.
"Sasha… he thought you were his date."
Sasha blinked. Once. Twice.
"Ohhh," he said softly.
Harper buried her face in her hands.
"Ohhhhh," Sasha repeated, louder, clutching the pillow tighter.
Then—
"Oh my GOSH!" he squeaked, his voice cracking as he buried his face again. "That's soooo silly! He thought—ohhhNOOO!"
Brie groaned so hard it rattled the windows.
Harper gleefully clutched his sleeve.
"WELL? Was he hot? Spill it. Don't you dare lie to me. Tell me his name."
Sasha peeked up shyly over the pillow, cheeks pink.
"…I… dunno his name… but…" He fiddled with the pillow tassel, mumbling in the tiniest voice, "…he's really tall. And his voice is all mean. And his eyebrows get mad. But it's… funny. He's like a big shiny angry bear."
Harper squealed like a schoolgirl.
"You have a CRUSH! Baby brother's got a shiny angry bear CRUSH!"
"I DO NOT!" Sasha shrieked, immediately hiding his face again. "He's just mean! And silly! And shiny! And he forgot how to roar! That's all!"
Brie threw herself into the chair with a groan while Harper collapsed into giggles, already plotting how to tease him about this for eternity.
And Sasha, even while kicking his feet and denying it, couldn't help the tiniest little smile curling on his lips as he whispered under his breath:
"…he is shiny, though…"