PART ONE
there will be two or
three parts. this one
has the least info but
is the happiest. do with
that what you will ❤

Its hard to think of happy memories when you hardly have any. To conjure up something nice and peaceful to sink yourself into.

If he focused hard enough he'd fall back into time when things were in fact pleasant. The first home they had, open and spacious. Two floors only but long and winding. Porches that led into gardens , white marble statues and shiny marble floors.

Every one had their forever home. This one had been there's.

He could still taste his step fathers tea if he pictured it well, he could still remember the scent of his mothers favorite perfume as she glided past him. The small touches they made , the gentle kisses and genuine smiles. The true love he witnessed that long ever lasted till the end of spring.

They were playing cards in the spare living room, all the doors open due to the humidity. Warm air circulated and the floor to ceiling window curtains blew with it. PJ in his mortality had been exhausted, unmoving to when he was sprawled on the couch.

He was nine then - so his body hardly covered half of the seating area. Knox was seven and placing his cards into a house. The wind defiant against this , knocked it over every chance it had.

Celine had been on the floor across from Knox, on the opposite side of a glass table cluttered with finger food for their afternoon tea. Knox hadn't started ballet yet - he hadn't started purging. So he ate happily and as much as he wanted.

They were playing Go - Fish? Maybe? He cant quite remember the exact card game but he remembers his brother whining. " Do you have any four of hearts-"

" - tHIS IS BORING!" Knox pouts as his house of cards fall again.

Celine is to focused on her current given hand to look up. Picking out one as she says : "Feel free to go play chess with your father."

Knox tries to meet her eyes. "He always wins."

She meets it dead on. Gold on brown. "You will to - if you learn." Likes thats gonna happen. "You dont even have to play. Just sit across from him and watch as he does it. He'll enjoy your company-" she's cut off by the house phone ringing. Knox finding this the perfect escape from the conversation bolts up and screams in his high picture voice ;

" I'LL GET IT!" Getting up he almost trips and falls into the glass table, but Celines reflexes stop it just in time. The boy hardly notices this - it is in fact a daily occurrence - and he zooms off without a care.

"He's gonna trip on the phone cord." Peter mumbles under his breath earning a glare from his mother.

"He's not going to -"

From the hallway. "Mom its - oW!"

Peter laughs picking out the four of hearts. " Told you."

" iM FINE-" Knox re-enters, the loopy phone cord pulled taunt, and he hardly gets two feet in. "Its a man named Mr.Cal-"

Celine's face changes in second. Standing she straightens out her white sun dress and walks over. Grabbing the phone she looks at her boys with a kind mind. Panicked eyes. "Go play with your dad - Ill be back in 10."

Both boys disappointed by this make eye contact. Knox defiant but Peter obeys, swinging his legs off the couch he pauses the game. Pocketing his cards.

"Come on-" Peter says grabbing the smaller ones hand. Starting to lead him to the back garden.

Knox groans tossing back his head. "All he does is talk about dirt."

He can't argue there. Their father, although kind , was immensely dull to their small minds. "At least its not night time. He'd try to make us point out constellations with him." Peter mutters as they step outside.

Off the porch and into the grass. Avoiding the stone path because it was hot under the sun and they were currently shoe-less.

Just where suspected , Michael Emerson was on his knees, mending a bare piece of land. All too focused on the task and not hearing the quiet grass lead approach of either of the boys.

He was human after all and his instincts were shit. Celine always said that was apart of his charm, his dumb mortality foolishness. The way he stuttered and tripped over words when nervous. How his two left feet often betrayed him. How he could chat away about magnolias or tulips with the same vigor one would discuss politics. All traits Knox inherited one way or another , all expect his piercing blue eyes. He had his mothers eyes.

As did Peter, but his inherited traits were far worse.

"He's playing with dirt again." The seven year old notes, finally causing for Michael to notice.

"Oh!" He does an awkward startled laugh. Looking between the two with squinted eyes as the sun is right above them. Knox had always tanned in it , loving the sunshine. Peter burned and got agitated quickly. "Technically Im planting Bloodroot. Id ask you to help but we don't need the Wolfsbane situation repeated-"

"I thought it'd make pretty paint." Knox replied dryly.

" - or the Hemlock."

"It looked like it tastes good-" Peter protested.

There's a pause of silence as he considers. "You can help with the Hynaciths?" He says nervously trying his best. "Or tend to the Narcissus? I know you admire those Peter-"

"Can I eat them?"

A worried look as he gulps. Hands twisting his gardening gloves in his lap nervously. "I wouldnt prefer it-"

"MICHAEL!" Celine's voice calls out from the house. Ending the awkward conversation as she runs out. Dress tail in hand, a over the moon pleased expression gracing her features. "Michael , Caliber called-"

He stands at this. Taking off his hat worried. Before he takes in her expression as she gets close enough to see and he smiles himself. "Boy or girl?"

She laughs. " Its a boy." She's just happy it survived. "Freya and Niall are getting a little brother! Oh , we must send a basket and a card-"

Peter leans over to Knox as their parents start to chatter. "Any idea you know what's going on?" He always had the knack for eavesdropping so he perfectly might.

But he only shakes his head in disagreeance. " I dunno, but Freya's a weird name - "

Blunt as ever Peter asks and interrupts the conversation. "Whose getting a baby?"

"It better not be us. I dont have the strength-" Little Knox says over dramatically putting a hand on his heart.

Celine and Michael look over to their kids , bright and happy. Lost in thought and mind almost. "Just some old friends of mummy. We're gonna send them some toys and gifts-"

Knox objects first. "I haven't got any new gifts."

"Yes because you end up playing with boxes they come in." Peter informs getting an elbow to the gut because his input wasn't necessary right now. It wasnt wrong though. Knox had a knack for seeing where he could hide or curl up into. Again , though, sneak tactics weren't needed for this conversation.

"Your birthday isnt for a few months-" Celine shakes her head.

Knox stays stubborn.
" But mom -"

"How about this." Celine contemplates, knowing very well this wasn't going to end nicely. "I give you a gift if you answer my riddle correct." Knox only ever responded with Fairytale logic.

Peter , however, despised it. "Not this again!"

"You don't have to participate if you don't want to." Celine says in a matter of fact tone as she walks over. Kneeling in front of them she takes their small hands. "Sound fair?"

Knox chides. " It does to me."

Celines face softens. "You get one guess. Then we go inside because mummy and daddy have business to attend to. And no pouting if you get it wrong."

The younger emerson nods because this sounds full proof to him. No way he wouldn't get it! "Mhm."

"Pinky promise." Their fingers intertwine.

"Okay," Celine says as starts. Michael a few steps behind her watching with absolute heart eyes. "Who makes better music? A song bird or the rattle snake?"

Peter tries to think it through because it just seems odd and obvious. Knox answers with out any hesitation however. "SoNG BIRD!"

Michael answers behind her. Hands in pockets as he shrugs. "Incorrect, sadly."

The seven year olds jaw drops to the floor like he's lost everything. "No!" As if he can refuse. "The rattle snake then-"

"No, thats not-" Celine flinches as a war cry is made and he runs off. Leaving the trio standing there : blinking. Their mother still on her knees. "He broke his pinky promise. We have to make a new promise because that never works with him ... Peter you wanna handle this?"

There's a pause because he honestly doesn't. So his step father chimes in to help persuade. "He seems to listen to you the most?"

He sees a chance to bargain. "Do i get a gift if I do?"

Taken back at his wit she shakes her head. Scrunching her nose. "Sadly , no. You too did not answer-"

"Well then hold that thought." Peter challenges letting go of her hand. Chasing Knox in the direction he fled. " Ill be right back!"

☛

Knox lays face down on his bed. The most obvious of places. Everything is clear here. His first ever happy memory.

From the butterfly incasings hung on the walls, the details of their wings. The tipped over chess set in the corner of the room, the red and white players and where they are placed. The Harry Potter novels occupying a book shelf crammed with stuffed animals.

"Go away." The first thing he says. Madly disappointed in himself. And by all means Peter does not listen. Instead he makes his way over to the radio. Pulling up the spinny stool as he shuffles through cds.

"You broke your pinky promise to mom?"

"Im aware."

" She's upset." A lie.

A muffle. " Im aware."

Finding the correct CD he pops it in. "You're sad."

The bed creaks as he looks up. Realizing whats happening again. "Dont you dare-" Taylor Swift starts to play and the already high pitched boy raises his voice. " - yOU DONT GET TO USE MY WIFE AGAINST ME!" He protests with a small crumpled very threatening fist slam into the bed.

Peter jumps off the stool. Offering a hand. "Music helps you when you're upset." Walking over to the bed he grabs his wrist and pulls. "Come on, dance with me." Peter laughs knowing very well he would.

Knox stays still in a silent protest.

Another drag of the arm , with some muscle this time , has him almost falling off the bed. "Come on. You know it'll make you happy." Letting go of him he simply offers his hand one last time. An open palm. An offering of peace. "Come dance with me, Knox."

Begrudgingly - he does.