and the stars will all come out

chapter twenty-five! ☆

WHEN DAVE FINALLY RETURNED HOME TO THE CABIN, HIS CAR RUMBLING LOUDLY OVER THE GRAVEL, IT LOOKED LIKE NOBODY INSIDE WAS AWAKE.

Good. His watch said it was almost two in the morning - God, he did not miss waiting in airports for hours - and if no one was awake yet, this was likely the easiest part about returning. Not having to confront anyone. He knew he would have to, but for now, he was content to get inside, steal a few moments of sleep, and deal with this clusterfuck he'd started in the morning.

Dave yawned as he retrieved his bag from the back seat, and closed the door. He needed to apologize, and had gone over a few different variations of the apology while he'd been stuck for hours at the airport, but none of them had really stuck yet. All he knew was he was going to apologize, as genuinely as he could, and then maybe Landry would forgive him, and then maybe at some point he would get to play her the song he wrote. And hope it would have the reaction he wanted.

The porch light was off as he approached the front door, shrouding the entire driveway in darkness, but the front door was unlocked.

It swung open with a much-too-loud CREAK! and, well, so much for being discreet.

Dave had just stepped into the kitchen and shook off his shoes onto the mat when Nate rounded the corner of the hallway in paisley pyjamas, wearing his glasses, his strawberry-blonde hair sticking up in all directions.

It was impossible to know if he was exasperated. "Hey, man."

Cautious, Dave set his bag on the foot of the basement stairs. "Hey. Anybody else awake?"

"No, just me. We figured someone should stay up to make sure you got home okay."

"Ah. Thanks." Dave couldn't think of any other response to that. Nate just nodded at him curtly.

"Glad you're home, dude. Don't fuck it up with her."

☆

THERE WAS AN AWKWARD, RUSHED APOLOGY OVER BREAKFAST.

For once, they'd opted not to eat in front of the TV in the basement, but the four of them had managed to fit around the kitchen table wedged in the corner. Beforehand, Nate and Landry had taken to cooking duties - Nate manning the griddle, watching over globby vegan pancakes, and Landry buttering a small mountain of toast on the counter opposite him. Taylor was, as always, in the basement on music duties, blasting The Police from the stereo and smoking so much weed the stench wafted through the entire house.

Dave was unsure of what to do in this ecosystem until they sat down to eat.

He cleared his throat and got the words out - completely unpracticed, but what mattered was Lani knew he was sorry.

Landry glanced up from her plate, her eyes meeting Dave's. The air in the kitchen seemed to thicken with tension, the clinking of forks against plates the only audible sound. Nate and Landry exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"I, uh, look," Dave began, his gaze shifting uncomfortably from his plate to Landry's eyes, "I just want to say I'm really sorry about - about last week. I shouldn't have reacted that way at all. It was out of line."

Landry sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Yeah, it was," she admitted, her tone measured. "But let's not ruin breakfast over it. We've got enough on our plates, literally and figuratively."

Taylor, sensing the need to diffuse the tension, chimed in, "Speaking of plates, these pancakes are... interesting, Nate. What's the secret ingredient?"