Chapter 3.15 - Hopeless Little Wish

*Warning: Bad language, as usual*

Reagan smiled at Blaise, letting his strong and deep voice wash over him. He loved listening to Blaise’s stories. They were always so exciting and thrilling and best of all, they were real. Everything Blaise told him were things that really happened while he and Reagan’s parents had been fighting in Howell Island, protecting the rest of the world from evil forces.

How cool was that?

They had learned all about Howell Island in school today. How it’s an island where everyone is fighting, or supporting those who are. It’s the only place in the whole world where evil things can enter, so the people on the island all fight every day to protect the rest of the world. They were all heroes. He was the son of heroes.

Again, so cool. But you know what would’ve been even cooler? Being able to meet them. But he knew that was impossible, so he kept the hopeless little wish deeply hidden inside his heart.

His godfather had also been a fighter on the island. He was also a hero. He even had a dragon. Not everyone could say that.

He glanced over at the photos on the wall. He thought his parents were really cool, but sometimes, just sometimes, he wished they weren’t his parents. He wished Blaise and Lyra were. He couldn’t imagine anyone being better than them.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” Blaise’s voice broke through his thoughts. Reagan flashed him a bright smile in response.

“Just thinking ‘bout stupid stuff,” the boy laughed brightly and settled back against his bed to hear more of the story.

Blaise affectionately ruffled Reagan’s hair and continued with the story. Reagan wasn’t sure when he lost track of the story, but when he felt Blaise’s hand resting warmly on his back through a sleepy haze, he smiled happily and allowed sleep to pull him under.

The next morning, the house was a flurry of activity. Mireille was finally old enough to start school, and she was not happy about it.

“It’s stupid,” Mireille declared with a massive scowl. “Why do I have to go? School is for dummies.”

“Dummies or not, you still have to go,” Lyra insisted sternly. Mireille pressed her lips together and her scowl deepened, and Reagan knew the girl was gearing up to throw a tantrum. Reagan wolfed down his breakfast, eager to make a break-away before the Mireille-shaped stick of dynamite exploded.

 “You’re not impressing anyone, Mireille,” Blaise interrupted the girl before she could get going, his own brow lowered in an irritated scowl. “You’re going and that’s final. Now, finish your breakfast and get dressed. The school bus is almost here.”

   Mireille scowled even deeper, but obeyed her dad’s orders without complaint. Reagan smiled tentatively at Blaise, amazed by the ease by which his godfather had diffused the situation. 
Minutes later the school bus arrived, and Reagan rushed off to school with a happy smile, Mireille joining him sulkily.

 “You know, it’s autumn,” Joelle declared mischievously during lunch-break, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s the season of weird and spooky stuff, of horrors and ghost stories. We should do something scary. I’ve heard that if you go to the graveyard after midnight, sometimes, you can see actual ghosts. We should totally do that.”

Reagan frowned slightly at the suggestion. What was so scary about the graveyard, or seeing ghosts? He just didn’t see the appeal.

 “It’s after curfew,” he pointed out. Both Joelle and Daniella turned to him, looking at him like he had just said the stupidest thing possible.

“Who cares?” Daniella challenged. “It’s the graveyard. At night. If you’re too scared to go, just say so.”

“There’s nothing scary about the graveyard,” Reagan insisted, and after that sentence, the twins would not get off his case until he agreed to go.

Which was why he was currently listening to Mireille’s excited chatter with only half an ear, wondering how he was going to sneak out of the house. Sneaking out was a horrible idea, but he had to go. He’d promised he’d go.

He obediently went to bed at bed-time, but once he was sure Mireille was asleep in her bed and therefore unable to rat him out, he quietly got up and dressed. The rest of the house was dark and quiet as well, so Reagan took it as his cue to sneak out.

The graveyard was a bit creepy at night, with shadows falling over everything and the tree branches creaking ominously, but he still couldn’t understand why the twins found it so scary. The air was snappy and cold, and it wasn’t long before the novelty of the entire thing wore off.

 “This is boring,” Joelle declared after they walked through the graveyard several times, investigating the graves and reading the names on the headstones, “and it’s cold. Let’s go home.”

 “Hmm,” Reagan agreed half-heartedly, his attention fixated on the pair of graves beside him. The names engraved on the stone were as familiar to him as his own. “You guys go. I’m gonna stay a bit.”

Joelle shot him a dubious glance, but didn’t argue.

 “Hmm, okay,” she agreed blithely, “but we’re going. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Reagan agreed, and a minute later he was alone in the dark graveyard. He took a seat in front of the graves, quietly studying every groove and line in the stone. Here was irrefutable proof that his parents had lived and died.

There were so many things he wanted to say and tell them, but he kept quiet. He wanted to say it face to face, not to some cold and empty stone. It was just another hopeless little wish of his.

This was stupid. He should’ve gone with the twins.

He got up to go home, but when he turned around, he thought his heart was going to stop from shock.

His mom was standing right in front of him. It was a dream come true.

 “Are…are you my mom?” he asked before he could stop himself, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Reagan,” the ghost whispered reverently, her voice echoing eerily. Her hand cupped his cheek, the sensation cold and strange against his skin. “I’ve dreamt about you so much. Please, may I hug you?”

Reagan gave a small nod, a little overwhelmed, but he wrapped his arms around his mom – his mom! – in return, gladly accepting the hug. It couldn’t compare to Lyra’s, but it was a good hug. His mom was hugging him, and that was probably the coolest thing ever.

All the things he had ever wanted to tell his parents spilled over his lips, and he simply couldn’t stop speaking, talking about everything and nothing. The cold and any fatigue he might’ve felt from the late hour was completely forgotten as he revelled in the novelty of speaking to his mom.

The sky was already starting to grow grey from the light of the new day before the spell was broken.

 “Reagan,” his mother gently interrupted his latest tale, staring at the greying sky. “You should go home. Blaise is probably worried about you.”

He frowned, very reluctant to let the dream end.

“But I want to talk to you more,” he protested, but she shook her head and gave him a gentle smile.

 “I’m so grateful for this past night, but you have to go home,” she insisted. “I don’t belong here, and when the sun rises I will disappear. I only came because I wanted to meet you, but I can’t stay, no matter how badly I want to. I don’t belong here.”

Reagan blinked at the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t ready for the night to be over yet, but it had already been more than he could’ve hoped for. His hopeless little wish had come true, so it would be too selfish to wish for more.

His mom was already dead. He had to remember that.

“Alright,” he mumbled, disheartened, refusing to look at her. She gave him one last hug before the sun peeked over the horizon and she disappeared into a cloud of light.

It took all his willpower not no burst out in tears there and then.

The journey home was a solemn one, and the cold air of the morning bit into his face and seeped into his bones. The world was already starting to wake up around him, and apprehension grew in Reagan’s stomach as he realised he’d stayed way too long at the graveyard. There would be no way he’d be able to sneak back in unnoticed.

Blaise was waiting for him when he got home, arms crossed and brow lowered.

Reagan averted his eyes, feeling incredibly guilty. He shouldn’t have sneaked out, or he should’ve come back home earlier. Blaise and Lyra had enough trouble already without him causing them to worry.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled before Blaise could say anything. “It was wrong of me to sneak out, and I won’t do it again. Please don’t be angry.”

 “Where were you?” Blaise demanded in lieu of an answer.

“Graveyard,” Reagan answered promptly. “It was a dare from Joelle, but then…” He trailed off, wondering how to explain what followed. “I met my mom. Her ghost. She was…she was very nice.” He swallowed heavily at the thickness in his throat, already missing her even though he’d only just met her. It was so stupid.

Blaise broke the silence that followed with a heavy sigh and dropped his angry stance.

 “Come here,” he ordered brusquely and dropped to his knee. Before Reagan had time to protest, Blaise engulfed him in his arms, strong, familiar, and comforting. The lines of his body were still tense and angry, but his breathing was calm and steady, and he didn’t say anything else.

Reagan felt his eyes burn. It wasn’t fair. Blaise should be angry at him. He should be lecturing him or grounding him. He shouldn’t have known how badly Reagan needed that hug, but somehow, he just did. It wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t Blaise have been his dad?

 “I wish,” he confessed guiltily, his voice hitching as he tried to suppress his tears, “I wish they didn’t die. I wish they were still here. I wish you and Lyra were my mom and dad. It’s not fair.”

Blaise’s body stiffened at the confession, clearly caught by surprise. He sighed slightly after a moment and pulled Reagan even closer.

“Of course it isn’t,” he agreed in a low murmur, his voice soft and gruff in Reagan’s ear. “But the past can’t be changed, and the only thing we can do is to move on. Lyra and I aren’t your parents, but never doubt that we care for you as our own.”

 “I know,” Reagan whispered into his godfather’s shoulder. He did know. That was the problem. He couldn’t imagine loving his own parents more than he loved Blaise and Lyra, and that wasn’t right. Hugging his mom had been so cool, but it just couldn’t compare to this.

Blaise ruffled Reagan’s hair at the answer and pulled away, standing up again.

“Don’t think this means you’re not in trouble,” Blaise declared, breaking the heavy atmosphere that had fallen between them. “Dishes, every night. And if you want to spend time with the twins after school, you come here. Understand?”

Reagan winced guiltily. He’d hoped Blaise wouldn’t say anything about punishment.

“Yes Blaise,” he agreed meekly.

_~…~_

Mireille was bored. So bored. She couldn’t understand why Reagan was always so willing to spend so much time at home. There was nothing to do. She could play with Kiki, but lately the cat’s been running away from her whenever she saw her, so even that wasn’t really an option. Really, it wasn’t even like being dumped in a bath filled with water was that bad.

She was. So. Bored.

She jumped off the couch and walked around the house, looking for something to do, but again, nothing. Well, there was one thing that wouldn’t be totally boring…

Momentary amusement over and done with, Mireille left the house. There had to be something more interesting somewhere else.

Reagan and her mom were in the garden, faffing over some dumb plants, and her dad was doing pull-ups on that steel bar thing beside the treehouse. It almost made her want to play in the treehouse, but she’d have to play alone and playing alone was no fun. She could ask Reagan to play with her, but Reagan was such a push-over. Besides, lately he hadn’t been putting the same effort into their games as usual, so it was boring playing with him.

Maybe she should go to the park. The Autumn Festival was still running, wasn’t it? Maybe there would be something interesting to do.

 “Dad, can I go to the park?” she asked, rambling off the question.

“Go ahead,” he allowed, not even pausing in his exercises. He completed one last pull-up before he jumped down and landed agilely on his feet, stinking of sweat.

Mireille wrinkled her nose.

“Just make sure to be back in time for the party,” her dad continued, giving no indication he noticed her disgust. “The whole family’s going to be here, so don’t be late.”

Mireille perked up at that. That was right. It was Reagan’s birthday, which meant all her cousins would come, which meant things would no longer be boring. She couldn’t wait for that.

“Cool, okay!” she rambled before bouncing off to her bike. She was sure the festival would be able to entertain herself until her cousins arrived.

She spent an hour at the festival, exploring the attractions and looking for someone to play with, but nobody interesting was around, and to be quite honest, there was nothing interesting about the festival. The most interesting of all was the ‘haunted house’ and it was so fake only scaredy-cats would be afraid of it.

Mireille pouted. Once again, she was bored.

She perked up when she saw a family with a child enter the park. She knew the boy. She had no idea what his name was, and she’d never met him before, but she’d seen him in school before, which meant he wasn’t a stranger. Maybe he would be interested in playing.

 “Hah?” he asked incredulously when she asked him. “Why would I wanna play with you? You’re a baby.”

Mireille harrumphed at him. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t make me a baby,” she sneered. “And I bet I can run faster than you anyway.”

“Says who?!” he denied vehemently. Mireille sniffed derisively and ran away from him, and she couldn’t quite erase her smile when he took the bait and started chasing her.

In the end, she wasn’t faster than him. But that hadn’t been the point. The point had been, she wanted to play, and he was playing with her, so was the loser now?

She spent several hours chasing him and being chased, but her fun was interrupted when the boy (whose name she still didn’t know) had to go home. She pouted, but quickly perked up again when she realised Reagan’s party would probably start soon. She had to get home.

When she arrived home, the guests had already started to arrive. She was late. Her dad gave her a scowl from where he was talking to her uncle, causing Mireille to wince and slink away. She was probably going to get an earful later.

Reagan looked sympathetically at her, smiling around Alexa’s side at her. He clearly didn’t mind that she was late.

Mireille stuck her tongue out at him and dashed away. She was more interested in playing with her cousins, now that they’d arrived. Well, cousin. Alexa and Lilianne were too old, Desmond was a boy, Reuben and Keenan were both babies, but Lucinda was almost exactly the same age as Mireille, and she was fun to play with.

Why would Mireille want to spend time with anyone else?

They spent the entire party playing tag or hopscotch, running circles around the adults or wannabe-adults, only stopping when it was time for cake and cheering. Mireille rolled her eyes when she saw that even as a teenager, Reagan still wore a stupid freezer-bunny shirt.

After the cake had been cut and eaten, Mireille immediately wanted returned to playing, but she took a minute to wish Reagan a happy birthday. Lucinda was waiting for her, but Mireille loved it when Reagan paid attention to her.

“Happy birthday,” she rambled off impatiently, vibrating with energy, and pushed her present into his hands. It was just a stupid piece of rock, but Reagan loved collecting weird stuff and her mom had said he didn’t have a luminous gem yet, so…

Her dad had helped her getting it cut in an emerald shape, so it was still just a stupid rock, but she really hoped he liked it nevertheless.

His entire face lit up when he opened the clumsily wrapped present and saw the glittering gem.

“Oh wow, this is really cool!” he gushed happily, his eyes shining brightly. He held it up to the sun and admired the way it glittered in the light. “Thank you so much, Ray-Ray.”

Mireille immediately scowled at the stupid name. She hated it when people called her something else. Her name wasn’t Ray-Ray of Miri or whatever, it was Mireille!

 “My name is Mireille,” she insisted angrily. Reagan’s smile widened, and he looked down on her, clearly amused. Mireille didn’t get it. It wasn’t funny!

“Okay, Mireille.” Reagan corrected indulgently. “Thank you for the present.” His tone was apologetic, but he was still laughing at her. “It’s really cool.”

Mollified, Mireille sniffed haughtily. Whatever. It was just a stupid rock.

But she liked that he liked it.

“Okaybye!” she rambled off and ran away, eager to continue playing with Lucinda. She was so much more interesting than Reagan.

_~…~_

Lyra idly watched the boy she had help raise with a fond smile on her face, watching him play with the cat. The party had long since passed, and Reagan sat with a happy smile as he tickled the cat on his lap. He was no longer that uncertain, timid boy desperately looking for somewhere to belong. He was finally secure and confident enough in himself to freely express his thoughts and stop people from walking all over him.

She didn’t think there were any words to describe how absolutely proud she was of him.

He caught her eye and gave her that sweet, boyish grin of his, pure happiness on his face. It struck her in that moment just how much he looked like his mother. He had Adrian’s colouring, but his features were all Sionann. She’d never realised just how much he looked like her, but now that he was older, there was no denying the similarities.

She opened her mouth to talk to him, but a commotion in the kitchen drew her attention, halting her words.

Blaise was sopping wet, his expression dark. In one hand he held the pile of dirty dishes, and in his other, a clear piece of transparent tape. It didn’t take Lyra long to realise what had happened. One of the kids had taped the tap, causing it to spurt water all over a person when the faucet was opened. Reagan wasn’t the type of person to cause trouble like that, which meant the culprit was…

Mireille winced anticipatory, confirming Lyra’s suspicions.

It didn’t take Blaise long to come to the same conclusion.

“MIREILLE!” he thundered at his daughter.

“It wasn’t me!” she immediately protested, but her words didn’t fool anybody. “Why am I always the one getting in trouble! You never yell at Reagan!”

Blaise held up the piece of tape, showing it to her with a glare.

“Reagan doesn’t do shit like this!”

She sniffed the air derisively and looked away.

“Well Reagan sneaked out last night,” she announced primly, adding fuel to the fire. “And Mrs Shayna at school says you shouldn’t swear.” Besides Lyra, Reagan sank deeper into his seat, looking for all the world like he wished he was somewhere else.

Blaise slammed a fist onto the countertop with a loud thump, causing the pile of dishes on it to clatter.

“I don’t give a damn what ‘Mrs Shayna’ says!” he yelled angrily. “And don’t bring Reagan into this, I’m talking about your behaviour! You constantly disobey and disrespect -”

 “It’s just a little bit of water, it’s not like it’s gonna kill you!” Mireille protested impertinently. “It was just a joke.”

“I don’t care! I’ve had enough of -”

“Please don’t fight!” Reagan’s voice cut into the argument, silencing both sides. “Please.” Both Mireille and Blaise turned to him with angry glares, annoyed by the interruption, but Reagan’s anxious expression caused Blaise to sigh with resignation. He took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm down, and it would’ve succeeded, had Mireille not decide to have the last say.

“See?” she asked derisively. “You always take his side!” Blaise turned back to her, his eyes blazing with anger.

 “Mireille, go to your room,” Lyra ordered tersely, fed-up with the disrespect and trying to stop the argument from escalating to a point where someone would get hurt. She didn’t really believe Blaise would hurt Mireille, even in anger, but she knew how easy it was to lose reason through anger.

“Why do I have to go? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Mireille!”

Mireille sniffed and looked away, her entire body vibrating with anger.

 “Well, fine, see if I care!” she spat angrily. “I hate you!” She stormed off to the room she shared with Reagan, all indignant fury and outrage. She slammed the door shut behind her so loudly, one of the certificates on the wall jumped off and landed with a loud clatter on the floor.

Blaise scowled darkly and set off in the opposite direction. He closed the backdoor with more force than strictly necessary, but it was nothing compared to the cacophony Mireille had made. Shortly after, Lyra could hear the sound of flesh hitting wood as he cooled off against the sparring dummy.

It was several minutes before Reagan scraped together enough courage to break the silence that had fallen like a veil across the living room.

“Why is she always like this?” he asked timidly. “Doesn’t she understand how lucky she is to have you guys as her parents?”

Lyra sighed and rested her head in her hand.

“She’s still young, Reagan,” she commented tiredly. “And unfortunately, she takes a lot after me as a child. She’ll mellow out as she gets older.” Not that Lyra really believed that. From the day of her birth, Mireille had been difficult. The girl was scarcely in school and she was already giving them hell. Lyra did not look forward to the day her daughter became a teenager. It was still far off into the future, but just the thought alone caused Lyra to groan.

_~…~_

A/N: So, Mireille also has the hot-headed trait. In a house where three of the four occupants are hot-headed, is it any wonder she doesn’t get along with her parents?

The scene in the graveyard was inspired by this hopeless little wish:

T_T I’m sorry, Reagan. I sent him to the graveyard in an attempt to fulfil that wish, but Adrian was a no-show. He had to make do with Sionann. Adrian did pitch up the next day, so if anybody was wondering what Reagan was doing while Mireille played at the festival, this is what he did:

Wish granted! :D

Also, that pose, where Blaise is hugging Reagan. <3 Instead of scouring the internet for hours, looking for a similar pose, I decided to rather spend that time on creating it myself. I’m ridiculously proud of it. I have a couple of minor clipping issues to fix, but once they’re sorted out I’ll upload the poses to the Creative Corner page, in case anyone’s interested. :D