Team8s and Counting Onwards

After she had hung up with Pin, Book was downstairs cooking dinner for the girls. Flare was still up in Book's room, hardly having left the room since she arrived at the house the night prior.

Book stirred the pot absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to the strained conversation she'd just had with Pin. She hated how helpless she felt. There was so much she wanted to fix, but none of it seemed to be in her hands anymore. The sauce bubbled over, snapping her back to the present. She turned down the heat and wiped her hands on a dish towel, trying to steel herself for whatever was coming next.

A soft creak came from the hallway. Book turned her head, half-expecting to see Flare, but the doorway remained empty.

"Flare?" she called gently, unsure if the girl would respond.

No answer.

With a sigh, Book set the spoon aside and headed upstairs. She paused at the bedroom door, knocked softly. "Dinner's almost ready. You want to come down and eat with us?"

Still nothing.

She opened the door a crack. Flare was curled up on the edge of the bed, Bookmark sitting right beside her.

"She's been like this all day." Bookmark whispered. "I don't know what to do."

Book sighed, looking over at Flare, who knew her life had just changed forever. "Bookmark, how about you help set up the table for dinner, okay?"

Bookmark looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't. She nodded and stood slowly, giving Flare's shoulder one last gentle squeeze before slipping out of the room.

Book stepped in, closing the door behind her. She crossed the room and sat down carefully beside Flare. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, but Book waited, not pushing.

Flare's eyes stayed fixed on the floor. "You didn't have to cook dinner for me."

Book's tone softened. "Why wouldn't I?"

Flare briefly looked up at Book, before turning away. "I know how to cook my own food."

Book put on a faint smile. "That's quite a cool skill to have!"

"Not like I had a choice." Flare said, stuffing her head into her pillow. "How else was I going to be able to eat dinner every night."

Once Book absorbed that statement, her blood boiled. However, she knew she couldn't show it in front of Flare.

Book inhaled slowly, pressing her hands together to keep them from trembling. "That... that shouldn't have been your responsibility," she said softly. "You're just a kid, Flare."

Flare shrugged into the pillow. "Didn't matter. I just stopped expecting anyone to care."

Book's heart broke a little more at that. She reached out, resting a gentle hand on Flare's back. "Well, you don't have to do this alone anymore. Not here."

There was a long silence. The kind where all the noise in the world seemed to dull into a hum, like time itself was giving Flare room to decide if she believed it.

"Pencil probably wished that I never existed." Flare mumbled. "Not like it mattered to her that I did though. All I did was try and talk to her and now..." Flare started to cry into her pillow "Things aren't ever gonna go back to the way they were."

Book scooted a little closer, her hand still resting lightly on Flare's back, steady and warm. "I know," she said quietly. "I know they won't. And I'm so sorry you're going through this."

Flare shook her head against the pillow. "I just wanted her to see me. I wanted her to care. I thought maybe if I was quiet enough, helpful enough... maybe she'd want me around."