The sun had only just begun to dip, painting the edges of the buildings in warm gold, but it did nothing to slow the pulse of the street. Neon signs hummed to life, music leaked from open doors, and people moved with the easy confidence of those who knew this stretch of road well. It was the kind of place that never truly slept, something Aviv had taken full enjoyment in and more than once.
"There's this excellent coffee shop around the corner," Aviv said, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "Or well. Not necessary, good, more like the only place that stays open past two in the morning."
Acheron huffed softly, the sound slipping out before he realised.
As they walked, his attention drifted, then got caught by a storefront that didn't quite match the rest. The sign above the door was written in bubbly lettering, glittery pink and impossible to miss. It's read Silver Threat.
Behind the wide glass windows, jewellery gleamed under soft lights. The showcase did a good job indicating the large variety of jewellery; there were delicate chains displayed beside bold cuffs, minimalist studs next to intricate, dangling designs. It was captivating.
Acheron slowed without realising it.
His gaze lingered on the earrings, drawn to the subtle sparkle of silver and gemstone. Almost unconsciously, his hand lifted, fingers brushing his left ear. It felt… itchy. Not unpleasant.
"You're touching your ear again," Aviv said lightly, sidestepping closer to him.
Acheron froze.
He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. The realisation hit him all at once; it felt sharp and exposing. Ivy had pointed it out before. So had Dr Cloe. It was an absent-minded little tell, which he thought he had only done when he felt slightly irritated. But now his fingers sought his ear whenever his thoughts wandered too far.
A habit.
One which left him feeling exposed.
For a brief moment, heat crept up his neck. Not panic, exactly, but the uncomfortable awareness of being seen a little too clearly. Of giving something away, he hadn't meant to.
But then he glanced at Aviv.
Aviv wasn't staring or analysing. He just offered a small, knowing smile. It was soft around the edges and charming.
And just like that, the tightness in his chest eased. The vulnerability didn't completely vanish, but it softened and wrapped itself into something warmer. Acheron exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing before he even realised they'd tensed.
Acheron's gaze drifted back to the storefront, settling on a small display of earrings arranged on velvet. One pair in particular caught his attention; it was a simple silver hoop, but with a small gemmed lightning bolt that caught in the light.
Dr Pace's words surfaced gently in his mind, steady and calm. 'As long as it's your choice.'
The thought lingered, warming something in his chest. Without fully meaning to, carried more by curiosity than bravery, he murmured, "I think I want to do it."
"Huh?" Aviv replied, already half-turned toward him.
Acheron stiffened. A deep, unmistakable blush bloomed across his cheeks as the realisation sank in, he'd said it out loud. His fingers curled into the hem of his sleeve, grounding himself.
"I—" He swallowed, then tried again, quieter this time. "I think I'd like to re-pierce my ears." The words felt fragile in his throat; he felt that if he spoke too loudly or boldly, his courage would disappear. "Just… I want to."
For a split second, old memories threatened to surface. Hadeon's voice whispered into his ear. The way the idea had once been framed as if it was something special between them, but it was nothing more than a desperate attempt to claim. He understood the truth, and he felt different. Cleaner.
He did like how the piercings looked; he always had, and frankly, he missed having them.
Aviv didn't interrupt or attempt his usual teasing remarks instead; he analysed Acheron with an unreadable expression that lasted all of half a second.
Then his face lit up.
"Well then," Aviv said brightly, clapping his hands once, "let's go get some holes pierced."
Acheron blinked.
"Really...?" he said faintly.
Aviv shrugged, already stepping toward the door. "Hey, moments like these are shy. You hesitate too long, they run away." He glanced back, grin softening. "Besides, you said \textit{you} want to. That's kind of my favourite reason."
Acheron let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding; he felt lighter. He nodded, then took a tentative step forward.
Aviv noticed immediately and slowed, matching his pace without comment.
A small, high-pitched twinkle chimed above the front door as they stepped inside. Directly ahead stood a large pink reception desk—glossy, clean, and shaped with soft curves rather than sharp edges. Behind it was a lively Beta woman with an easy smile. Her blond hair was pulled into a high bun, leaving her ears fully visible, showcasing her unapologetically decorated face: multiple studs and hoops climbing the cartilage. Two small hoops adorned her lip, and a neat piercing glinted from her eyebrow.
She looked like someone who genuinely loved being here.
"Welcome to Silver Threads!" she said brightly. Her voice carried warmth and energy, but it wasn't overwhelming. "How can we help you today?"
Acheron hesitated for half a beat before stepping forward, resting his palms lightly on the desk as if grounding himself. "Um," he started, then cleared his throat. "I'd like to re-pierce my ears. I took my old piercings out… about seven months ago."
"Sure, no problem at all," she replied smoothly. "Which one were you thinking of getting today?"
Acheron blinked. "…How many can I get?"
Aviv snorted quietly beside him, leaning an elbow on the desk. "Careful, Achie. That's how it starts."
The receptionist laughed, clearly amused. "We usually don't recommend more than two at a time, but it does depend on placement."
"Only my ears," Acheron said quickly, as if worried someone might misunderstand.
"In that case," she continued, "one or two per ear is usually fine. It also depends on how well the original piercings healed. How many did you have before?"
Acheron lifted his hands to his ears, rubbing the edges with the tips of his fingers. He could still feel the faint bumps beneath his skin, all ghosts of old holes that had once been there.
"Uh… around…" He paused, counting silently. "Ten to twelve altogether, I think."
"Wow," she said, genuinely impressed. "That's a commitment."
Aviv raised his brows. "I knew you were hardcore, but damn."
Acheron's lips twitched despite himself.
"How about we take a look first?" the woman suggested kindly. "We'll check how everything healed and decide what makes sense from there."
"That sounds good," Acheron replied, relief threading through his voice.
She gestured toward a small door off to the side. The private room beyond was compact but spotless with white walls, soft lighting and neatly organised tools sealed in sterile packaging. A faint citrus scent hung in the air, clean and reassuring.
Acheron slowed without meaning to.
This place was safe and quiet. There were no sticky floors, no sharp chemical smells, or muffled chaotic noise bleeding through thin walls and most importantly, no hands holding him down, making decisions for him.
All around him were calm voices, clean surfaces, and choices clearly offered instead of taken.
Aviv noticed the pause and nudged him gently with his shoulder. "You okay?"
Acheron let out a small, breathy laugh and nodded, stepping fully into the room. His shoulders eased just a little as the door closed behind them.
Bianca, the piercer, tapped the narrow bed lightly with two fingers. "You can hop up here for me."
Acheron glanced at it, then at her, then at it again. Due to the height difference, he had to rise onto his tiptoes, gripping the edge as he awkwardly hauled himself up. Even then, he barely managed to crawl onto the surface with any grace.
Aviv bit his lip, shoulders shaking. "Do you want me to give you a boost, or are you committed to doing this the hard way?"
"I've got it," Acheron muttered, cheeks already warming as he finally settled. His feet swung slightly off the edge.
Bianca smiled as she snapped on a fresh pair of black sanitary gloves. "No worries. You're doing great." She said while pushing a small step stool further underneath the bed.
Acheron's heart thudded loudly against his ribs. His palms were damp, fingers curling into the fabric beneath him. He couldn't quite place why he felt so nervous; he'd been pierced before, after all.
…Just not like this. Not while completely sober or in such a safe environment.
"Alright," Bianca said gently. "I'm going to check both of your ears. Is it okay if I touch you?"
Acheron nodded, a small, careful motion.
She lifted his hair aside, tucking it back to expose his ears. They were pale and small, the cartilage delicate beneath her gloved fingers. She traced the ridge slowly, methodically and attentively, pausing where she felt faint bumps beneath the skin. Her brows knit together.
"I'm seeing quite a bit of scarring," she said carefully. "Your ears must've been in continuous pain for a long time."
Acheron blinked. "It… was uncomfortable sometimes," he admitted. "But I thought that was normal."
Bianca paused, then looked at him. "It really shouldn't be. Some tenderness for a week is expected, but ongoing pain usually means something wasn't done right. Or that there was repeated trauma."
"Really?" Acheron asked, surprised. He'd grown so used to the sharp, on-and-off stabs over the years that he'd stopped questioning them.
She hummed softly and lifted a small flashlight, shining it through his cartilage. A few healthy blood vessels showed clearly, but far more darkened spots littered the area.
"Whoever pierced you before damaged your nerves," she said plainly. "Pretty badly, actually."
Acheron went quiet, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
Aviv, however, let out a loud, unmistakably sarcastic snort. "Ah. A complete control freak."
A soft, shocked giggle escaped Acheron's chest. Aviv's frank response had startled a laugh out of him before he could stop it.
Bianca glanced between them, then chose not to press further. "Alright," she said instead, refocusing. "I see one good, viable spot on your right ear. But I wouldn't recommend piercing anywhere else until there's more healing."
"How long would that take?" Acheron asked.
"Mmm… a couple of months at least."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a large tube of cream, handing it to him. "Use this twice a day. It'll help calm the nerve endings and encourage healing."
Acheron accepted it with both hands, as if it were something fragile. "Thank you."
"If you'd like, we can pierce that one spot today," Bianca added. "It'll have to be a stud. After six months, if there's no irritation, you can switch to whatever you want."
Acheron lifted his right hand, touching the place she'd indicated. "This one?"
"Yes, the helix," Bianca confirmed with a smile. "Are you ready to go ahead?"
He hesitated for half a breath, then nodded.
"Yes."
She guided him gently. "Alright. Lie back, turn your head toward the wall."
Acheron did as instructed, facing the pale pink walls. He drew in a slow breath, then another, grounding himself. His fingers curled into the edge of the bed, but his shoulders stayed relaxed.
He closed his eyes, readying himself.
He felt Bianca swipe the alcohol wipe across his ear, the cold sting making his fingers twitch where they rested against his thigh. His hands trembled despite his effort to keep still, his breathing becoming more shallow, and his thoughts buzzing too loudly.
Then warmth pressed into his palm.
Acheron blinked and glanced down. Aviv had reached over without having to ask, his long fingers curling around Acheron's hand with ease. No added commentary, just allowing his presence to be there.
Acheron's grip tightened instinctively, thumb brushing once over Aviv's knuckles in silent thanks.
"Alright," Bianca said calmly. "Deep breath."
He did, slow and steady.
There was a brief pressure followed by a faint, sharp pinch.
"Okay, done."
Acheron's eyes flew open. "Wait… that's it?"
Bianca chuckled as she secured the stud. "That's it. Not painful, right?"
Acheron tilted his head slightly, testing the sensation. "Surprisingly… no." A soft laugh escaped him, light and almost disbelieving.
Aviv leaned closer, squinting at his ear. "Wow. You didn't even flinch. I feel robbed. I was emotionally prepared to coach you through dramatic suffering."
Acheron smiled, still dazed. Aviv gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then finally let go. "See?" he said softly. "You're doing really well."
Acheron nodded, smile lingering, heart a little steadier than before. But beneath it all, something deeper settled in Acheron's chest.
This piercing didn't hurt; it wasn't rushed or forced. That realisation hit him slowly, then all at once, this wasn't a mark of possession or control. It was a choice, a choice he made himself. It was a quiet, small act that belonged only to him.
For months, the fog in his mind had been thinning, lifting piece by piece, but this clarity right now is sharper and much brighter.
His body was his.
This realisation was more profound than any other.
"I want one," Aviv announced suddenly, voice ringing through the room with zero hesitation.
Bianca burst out laughing. "Sure—what would you like? An earring as well?"
Aviv tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "I was thinking of something more daring."
"Oh?" Bianca lifted a brow, clearly entertained. "Do tell."
"A nose ring," Aviv declared, chest puffed out as he'd just delivered a mic drop.
"Ooh, scandalous," Acheron laughed, eyes crinkling as Aviv shot him an unimpressed look.
Aviv rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please. I was born scandalous."
Bianca grinned. "That's definitely doable. Same rules as Acheron—stud first. You can switch to a hoop after six months. But if you want something flashier…" She reached into a tray. "We could do a diamond stud."
"H e l l yes," Aviv said without missing a beat. "If I'm committing, I'm committing."
Acheron shook his head fondly as Bianca prepped the equipment, watching Aviv sit far too confidently for someone about to get pierced. He caught his own reflection in the mirror, silver glinting softly in his ear. He couldn't help but feel a tiny swell of pride in his chest.
Not long after, they were back outside, the bell above Silver Threads chiming behind them. The sky was painted in warm oranges and fading pinks, the sun casting its last rays over the street as they headed toward the familiar glow of the 24-hour café.
Acheron absently touched his new helix stud, smiling.
"That hurt way more than I thought it would," Aviv complained cheerfully, rubbing his nose. "I feel personally betrayed by cartilage."
"I can't believe how impulsive you are," Acheron said, amusement lacing his voice.
Aviv stopped walking and stared at him in mock offence. "Says you."
Acheron blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Mr. 'I Think I Want to Do It' in the middle of the street."
They stared at each other for half a second, then both dissolved into helpless laughter, the kind that left Acheron slightly breathless and clutching his side.
"Well," Aviv said eventually, wiping at his eyes, "it's not really living if you're not a little on the edge."
"If you say so," Acheron managed, still smiling, chest warm and light as they walked on together beneath the darkening sky.
They slowed as the café's neon sign came into view, its soft glow pooling onto the pavement. Acheron lifted his hand again, thumb brushing the new stud at his ear, as if to reassure himself that it was still there, that he had done this.
Aviv noticed, of course. He always did.
"If you keep touching it like that," Aviv said, squinting at him, "It will get infected"
Acheron's hand froze, then he nodded, lowering his hand to his side and curling his fingers around the edge of his shirt.
They grabbed their coffees, the warmth of the cups seeping into Acheron's palms. It was grounding, solid and real. The street had begun to calm now, the nightlife easing into something softer and slower.
As they walked again, Acheron felt it then: not the absence of fear, but the absence of the weight of it. The constant tightness in his chest wasn't gone, but it had loosened, just enough to let him breathe easier.
"Hey," Aviv said suddenly, more quietly than before. "You good?"
Acheron nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I think… I really am."
Aviv bumped his shoulder gently. "Look at you. Growth. Character development. I'm proud."
Acheron rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest flared all the same.
By the time Acheron reached home, the sky had deepened into indigo, streetlights flickering on one by one. Acheron unlocked the door, stepping inside, he dragged his tired body through the large front door, letting it close behind him with a soft, familiar thud. He kicked off his shoes without bothering to line them up, a rare little rebellion, and leaned back against the door for just a second longer than necessary.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. Real fun. The kind that didn't require him to measure every word or brace himself for some invisible tension snapping tight. Talking with Aviv had been… easy. Laughing had come without effort.
Still, the day had wrung him out completely. His shoulders ached, his legs felt heavy, and there was a deep, pleasant exhaustion humming through his bones.
He climbed the wide staircase slowly, one hand trailing along the bannister. It struck him as odd how quiet the house was. Normally, his parents would be in the living room, pretending very poorly that they weren't waiting for him.
He'd even made sure to send them a message to say he was on his way home.
The silence is odd but not unnerving, not like it would have been before.
They must be in the garden, he reasoned, though the thought didn't quite settle.
He reached his bedroom quicker than expected and frowned when he noticed the door was slightly ajar. A small prickle of caution crept up his spine. He nudged it open with his shoulder—and froze.
A massive black-and-purple cat tree dominated the space beside his window, stretching nearly to the ceiling. Platforms, dangling toys, little hidey-holes. It all made up this massive adventure tree.
"…What?" he breathed.
At the foot of his bed sat a carved wooden box overflowing with toys: feathers, bells, plush mice in every colour imaginable. Just as his eyes swept over, he noticed right on top of his neatly made bed, nestled beside his pillow, was a fluffy purple cat bed that looked obscenely soft.
Acheron just stood there. Completely astonished.
His mouth fell open slightly, emerald eyes wide and bright. He rubbed at one eye, then the other, as if exhaustion had finally tipped him into hallucination. When everything stubbornly remained exactly the same, he let out a quiet, disbelieving sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.
"Okay," he whispered to the empty room, voice wobbling, "I'm definitely awake."
"Surprise!"
Acheron yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast he almost lost his balance. Ivy and Oaklen stood right behind him, grinning like they'd been waiting ages for that reaction.
And cradled in Ivy's arms, blinking sleepily, was the tiny kitten he'd rescued earlier that day.
Acheron's breath caught.
"What's this?" Acheron asked again, even though his voice already knew the answer.
"Well," Oaklen said, folding his arms like he was trying, and failing, to look casual, "your mother and I decided that you can officially adopt the kitten."
For a moment, Acheron didn't react at all. His gaze flickered between their faces, searching carefully, looking for the fine cracks or hints of pity disguised as kindness. He found none. No sorrow, no sympathy.
Only warmth.
Something in his chest loosened.
"…Thank you," he said softly, the words almost fragile. A small, beautiful smile curved his lips, the kind that didn't appear often enough.
He reached out, carefully lifting the kitten from Ivy's arms as if he were afraid the moment might shatter. The kitten let out a tiny, breathy meow and immediately began to purr, curling against Acheron's chest as it had already decided this was home.
Acheron let out a quiet, surprised laugh and instinctively brushed his cheek against the kitten's fur. It was patchy in places and uneven, but still soft. Softer than he'd expected. He closed his eyes for half a second, grounding himself in the warmth and vibration of the purring.
"The vet dewormed him and gave him all his shots," Ivy said gently, slipping into her calm, informative tone. "She said he's underweight and malnourished. He's got sores in his throat and mouth, so bottle-feeding is the best way to get fluids into him. He might fight it at first, but it's important to help him gain weight."
Oaklen nodded. "And because he's so small, he gets cold easily. Your mother bought him a few tiny sweaters. Remember to put them on him at night and early mornings."
"I also bought blankets," Ivy added quickly, like she didn't want to be outdone.
Acheron blinked at them. "Plural… blankets?"
Ivy didn't answer, only looked at one of the new baskets in his room shyly.
He looked down at the kitten, then back up at them, disbelief sneaking into his voice again. "Wait—just give me a second. I can really keep him?"
"Yes, honey," Ivy laughed, reaching out to brush Acheron's hair back from his face. "Really. Permanently and forever."
Acheron's shoulders sagged with relief he hadn't realised he was holding.
A soft laugh slipped out of Acheron before he could stop it.
"If you're struggling with names," Ivy said, mistaking his smile for hesitation, "I have a few ideas."
She cleared her throat dramatically. "Fluffy. Socks. Ember. Or—"
"No offence, Mom," Acheron said gently, smiling wider now, "but I'll handle the naming."
Oaklen snorted. "Thank you. I was afraid we were about to raise a cat named Fluffy Socks."
They moved further into the bedroom, Acheron carefully placing the kitten onto the tiny bed. He tucked a baby-blue blanket around its small body, hands gentle and precise. The kitten yawned, tiny pink tongue peeking out, before curling into a loose ball.
Oaklen watched from the doorway, chest tight with warmth. The feeling crept up his throat and into his nose.
"Ah—ah—choo!"
Then another.
He grimaced, already digging into his suit pocket, popping two allergy pills into his mouth without water. It is a new prescription that his doctor recommened not only was it stronger but also faster acting. Although he knows he will have to take the pills daily, seeing the soft smile on his son's face.
"Worth it," he muttered.
Ivy arched an eyebrow. "You say that every time."
"And every time," Oaklen said, wiping his nose, "I would still choose the cat."
Acheron glanced back at them, kitten asleep behind him, his new helix stud catching the light as he smiled.
His phone buzzed softly in his pocket at that exact moment. He glanced down.
[Diamond Nose Menace: ]
[Did you survive the day, or did the piercing kill you? Also pls confirm you're alive.]
Acheron smiled and typed back one-handed. He laughed at the spontaneous nicknames that he and Aviv had given to each other on the app earlier this evening.
[Piercing Champ: ]
[Alive. Also…I adopted a kitten.]
[Diamond Nose Menace: ]
[...]
[EXCUSE ME???]
[I leave you alone for ONE EVENING, and you become a father?]
By the time Acheron looked up from his phone, he noticed his parents had long left. He found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand resting lightly on the kitten's tiny back. The purring was soft and uneven, but steady.
Outside, the house settled, floorboards creaked, distant voices murmured, life continuing as it always had.
He leaned back against his pillows, exhaustion finally catching up with him, and whispered, barely louder than a breath, "I think we'll be okay, right, Nimbus?"
The kitten purred louder, as if agreeing.