'Have you heard about this group?'

Ashton barely has time to fix his glasses before Alexis is bombarding him with information, sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea.

'...I've not been given the name, Lex. Dunno,' Ashton shrugs, running his fingers through the grey streak in his hair. It gives him a weird sense of comfort from his recurring dreams about a fiery torturous death.

'I have to fill you in, I guess. Well, they're called the Order of the Wren. Not as bad as the AMI was. Smaller, less frequent in their killings, doesn't kill specifically magic, not a big corporation with heaps of power, but it's happening,' Alexis gushes, eyes in an intent, smirking frown at Ashton. Her hands are waving around madly. Ashton counts at least five times her hands get too close to her cup, making him wince slightly whenever she does it, 'And it's happening fast. They can't make their team too big to avoid suspicion, I guess. Some guy got killed and they found a business card with his body. It said Order of the Wren on it with a picture of a porcelain mask on it.'

Alexis hands Ashton a newspaper clipping. He raises a suspicious pale eyebrow as he reads it.

Man Dies in Unexpected Murder

On the 20th of October, 2023, the body of Starshine Committee member Stuart Jackson-Smith, 58, was found in a back corridor of the fifth floor meeting area. Jackson-Smith was a high-ranking member of the Anti-AMI sector of the Starshine Committee, doing excellent research in his area of expertise, boosting the progress of the company forwards drastically. No fingerprints or forensic information could be gathered from the scene apart from a business card tucked into the breast pocket of his blazer that read Order of the Wren with a porcelain mask on it. "This is a horrible damage to the progress of the Anti-AMI sector," Eddie Ashbourne, CEO of the Starshine Committee, "He was a very kind man who we will miss very much. We will also miss his hardworking mindset and excellent research.".

'Hold on. I recognise that name,' Ashton squints his eyes as if he's looking for something deeper on the paper than the ink laced into every beige fibre of wood.

'He's been in the news a lot, you know. Smart fella,' A voice laced with a Northern accent comes from the stairs. Hana stands at the bottom of the stairs, her short black hair skimming her chin in a perfectly cut straight line and ocean blue eyes staring into the pair with some sort of vendetta. Her black shirt hugs her muscles, big jeans covering the rest of her muscular figure. She towers tall, head nearly skimming the low doorframe, 'I remember him from when I used to work in that sector. Short funny little American guy. Big family back in NY. Poor lad...'

She skitters into the dining room, sitting down heavily in the chair next to Ashton.

'You used to work in Anti-AMI, Hana?' Ashton queries, placing his foot on the chair and resting his cheek on his bent knee. Hana gives a gentle nod, keeping an utterly stairs face. Alexis is always telling her to smile more, but it always turns out crooked. Luckily, the past unsmiling Ashton understands the expressiveness of a straight face. Hanna rolls her eyes, some sort of quirk in the right side of her mouth.

'Before you ask, I did in fact meet Kristoffer. Quiet guy. Well, you know him. Always keeps his head down, you know? I probably spoke to him once or twice when I was there before I moved to the Research of Biological Structure section. He was... kind, a bit out there but also quite shy. Odd guy,' Hana shrugs, her eyes with a slight glint in them as she finds the correct place to look at Ashton's place, 'I don't blame him though. You two are more like each other than you tell me, babe.'

Ashton smiles faintly, a traced sketch on his lips as he looks at Hana. Alexis places a theatrical hand on her chest, 'How dare you? I'm always right.'

'Mmm. Sure,' Hana places her chin on her knuckles, eyes sparkling with ecstatic glee. Ashton looks back at Alexis, eyebrows quirked in a slightly quizzical way.

'Alexis, how does this murder case really affect us?' Ashton probes, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. A thick blanket of awkward silence drapes the trio. Hana scratched the back of her neck, looking out of the window into the garden. Alexis takes another loud sip of tea. Ashton chews the inside of his lip. Hana suddenly slips a thick-fingered hand into Ashton's hair, tousling his copper (and grey, but he would absolutely murder me if he knew that I keep bringing that up) curls like a father would.

'Don't you worry about it, Ashton. It's all good,' Hana comforts, thumping his back. It feels forced, awkward, unwanted, 'Come on, Alexis. We're leaving in thirty minutes.'

'Okay, I'll see you guys soon,' Ashton picks up his jumper (not his, Kristoffer's) from the back of his chair, giving a crooked grin to the couple. He rubs his hands together, something to comfort himself, 'Have fun for me.'

'Plenty. Plenty.'

*

Kristoffer loosens off his tie, throwing it back into his dresser. He observes himself in the mirror, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his belt in his hand. He doesn't feel associated with himself all of a sudden. He traces his features with his fingers. Down his nose, across his jawline, over his eyebrows, squishing his cheeks with his palms.

'Fucking hell.'

He tears his eyes away from the mirror, changing into some different clothes. He feels everything come back to him as he looks into the mirror.

It was Saturday. The first of the summer break. Kristoffer and his friends were sat in a park, playing football and sitting around on the picnic blanket. Alexis and Gia do fabulous performances of goalkeepers, despite Gia's long fake nails and Alexis's broken wrist. Ashton was sat on the picnic blanket, having a small conversation with the rest of Kristoffer's band about summer music things. Kristoffer lay down next to Ashton, head resting on his thigh. Ashton was touching Kristoffer's hair, the fresh summer sun caressing his face. His phone suddenly dinged with a text message from his pocket.

Dad
Kristoffer, please come home. Something happened and we need to talk to you ASAP.

Me
Why? I'm busy right now.

Dad
Please baba seuntjie, this is important.

Me
Fine. I'll be home soon.

'Fucks sake. I have to go guys. My dad wants me to go home. Hate when he does this shit,' Kristoffer sits up, an apologetic look on his face. Ashton shrugged and smiles, but Kristoffer could sense an air of slight disappointment in his eyes. Gia and Alexis give him waves from their goals, no one in the football game noticing his departure.

'Kristoffer, you're still available for the summer concert? We need our bassist!' Dottie asked, scraping her bleach-blonde hair from her eyes.

'Always there for my band,' This phrase earns a loud cheer. Ashton and Kristoffer meet eyes, smiles crinkling the corners of their mouths. They share a quick kiss. Well, that was what was intended. They quickly found themselves being pushed apart by Sunny, his laugh detectable in his stern tone.

'Go home, Kristoffer. Honestly, fuck off.'

'Fucking off now.'

The walk home wasn't too long. Just a few songs is all it takes to reach his front door. As soon as he walked up the front path a sense of tension washed over his body, pulling at his heartstrings and freezing his brain. He turns the doorhandle and enters the front porch. He placed his shoes down, but he couldn't help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

'Ma, Dad, I'm home,' He shouted. No response. He waited five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds.

'Come to the table please, Kristoffer.'

His father's tone was sombre and down. Kristoffer suddenly began to panic. Had his parents found that failed English essay? The one cigarette he had smoked a year ago? The posters in his room? The pride flag in his room? The secrets he hid about him and his "best friend" Ashton? He looked in the mirror at himself. "Looking good," he thought to himself. He sat down at the table. His sisters were not there. "I'm so totally fucked. They found out," He thought. His mother had tears falling from her eyes, dripping onto a piece of paper in front of her. Kristoffer's stomach lurches. His father is sat in the seat next to her, rubbing her shoulders and shushing her gently.

'Ma? What's wrong?' Kristoffer's tone shakes, vision going obscured by his own fear. Through the freezing dread, he reads the horrible words. The horrible words he never expected.

'Kristoffer?' Ashton's voice comes from the door. Kristoffer notices that he is now lying on Ashton's side of the bed, tears dripping into his pillow. Kristoffer doesn't say a word. He feels Ashton sit down on the bed, his weight making a slight dip in the mattress. Kristoffer grabs Ashton's hands, another tear falling from his eyes as he sits up. Ashton's eyes are wide, brimming with tears and eyebrows tilted upward, 'Are you okay? Well, no. But what can I do to help?'

Ashton presses his forehead to Kristoffer's. He's close, so close that Kristoffer can feel his warm breath on his skin, see every freckle on his face up close, the tiny burn scar from his neck to his jawline, and smell the sweet cologne he wears. Ashton plants a gentle kiss to his cheek, wrapping arms over his shoulders in a cosy, heartfelt hug. It sends electricity through Kristoffer's bones, the place where he kissed warm and fuzzy. Kristoffer suddenly lets out a laugh, studying Ashton's face as he pulls away. Ashton keeps his bewilderment to his insides.

'You're my husband.'

'I am, Kristoffer.'

'And I'm your husband.'

'You are.'

Kristoffer rests his head against Ashton's shoulder, still laughing slightly, 'You're perfect, Ashton. You're too good for me. You forgive me for all my shit too easily. You should hate me.'

'It's probably a good idea to go to sleep early tonight,' Ashton states, but he can't deny the warmth spreading up his cheeks as Kristoffer pulls him closer by his hips, dragging him onto his leg, 'I'll get in with you.'

'No. I don't want to sleep,' Kristoffer murmurs.

'What do you want to...'

'...Hm.'

'Kristoffer.'

'Hm.'

'Kristoffer.'

Kristoffer chooses to keep annoying him. He loves the way his name sounds in Ashton's mouth despite his annoyed laughter.

'Hm.'

'Kristoffer.'

'Ashton.'

'Alright, fine. You win,' Ashton's voice lowers to a husky whisper, 'What is it?'

*

Cheri is dwelling. Dwelling in her room, pacing back and forth in the crevice between her wardrobe and her bed. Her headphones play music, but she isn't paying particular attention. Myloe. Myloe. Myloe Myloe Myloe Myloe. Something about him seems off to her, a different gleam in his eyes at he looks at them. She can't confirm his intentions. But she feels ill when she remembers his sharp features, his pale skin, his deep focused eyes.