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He was sick. He’d get better soon.
That was what Norman heard Mom telling the younger children. She didn’t seem to have the heart to look him in the eyes when she said it to him. Norman knew she was lying. She knew that he did. She’d been the one to give him those anatomy books a year ago when he’d expressed an interest in understanding how the human body worked.
Norman had read all about the strange disease that those who loved too much could contract. He knew that he couldn’t just get better soon. He knew he was stuck and that the white petals in the pot she’d set beside his bed were not something that would just go away.
Unrequited love.
It was something he didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with, much less be consumed by at the age of nine. He was supposed to be too young for these feelings. It was rare for a child to contract the sickness, as it had to be real love and not just a fleeting crush that pushed someone to this state. Norman could tell by the look on Mom’s face when she’d found him in the bathroom kneeling over a toilet that now bore three white roses that she had never seen this before in person.
That was why she kept the other children away as he was set to rest. Norman knew this was not a sickness they could catch, and he also knew that no amount of rest would still the ache in his chest. Mom was hoping that if she made the other children keep their distance, he could take the time to work through these painful feelings.
The only problem to that strategy was that Norman didn’t want to let go of any of this. It might make his heart shake, and his lungs burn, and his throat feel like it was about to collapse in on itself, but that was okay. If Norman could keep seeing that smile, keep listening to that voice, keep savoring every fleeting contact he received, it was all worth it.
When Emma sunk in to talk to him, Mom had wasted no time in dragging her out. The irritation confirmed Norman’s suspicions. It made sense that Mom would think it was Emma that he’d fallen for—it made sense for it to be Emma that he’d fallen for.
But Norman didn’t cough when Emma made it into his room a second time, or when she gave him the cup on a string, or when he heard her triumphant voice whispered through the cup-phone. The petals only took away his breath, filling him with a jolting pain as his chest heaved and he fought to get them out of his throat, when Emma explained who had helped her come up with this way to talk to him.
Because it wasn’t Emma that Norman was in love with, it was the boy currently sitting next to her on the other side of the door, most likely with a book in hand, and pretending that he didn’t miss talking to Norman as much as she did.
Norman was in love with Ray.
When he finally calmed down and Emma hesitantly asked if he was alright and if she should go get Mom, Norman lied and said he was fine. The petals were red now. Norman didn’t know what that meant.
Slowly, he became better at hiding how sick he was all of the time. Everyone knew he wasn’t as physically capable as Emma. They knew when he was younger he was more prone to catching colds and being easily tired out. He used that to his advantage, excusing himself from activities when he could feel a coughing fit coming, and occasionally feigning a different illness and staying in bed for a few days to recover.
It was almost a year after the flowers had started growing inside of him that he slipped up. When he’d rushed to the bathroom during their play time, he hadn’t thought he was being followed. This was normal behavior from him, he’d even mentioned during breakfast that he was feeling a bit under the weather. He liked to leave little hints on the days he knew it was going to be difficult, it made things easier.
That morning Ray had tucked his bangs behind his ear for just a moment, and Norman had found himself caught in the gaze of those stone grey eyes. He’d known right then that it was going to be a rough day.
As he kneeled in front of the toilet and hacked up the discomfortingly beautiful petals, he didn’t hear the door open and close behind him. He did hear the footsteps. He did feel a rush of panic when a hand fell softly on his back.
Norman turned to once again meet the eyes that had brought him here in the first place. They were full of emotions, but not the ones Norman had secretly hoped he’d see in them someday. Ray had read all of the books Norman had. He knew what this meant.
“I thought so,” Ray finally said in a hushed voice.
“For how long?” Norman asked. He could feel his body shaking as he did. He leaned on the toilet, but soon found arms supporting the weight he couldn’t. That was so much worse.
“A little bit,” Ray pursed his lips now. “I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be,” Norman pressed. The very last thing he wanted was for Ray to be in pain because of him—for Ray to feel guilt for something he couldn’t control.
“She might feel the same someday,” Ray said in a lighter tone now. “She doesn’t even get what crushes are now. Once she does, she’ll love you back.”
The next thing Norman knew he was bent over the toilet and retching again. He felt Ray’s hand rub soothing circles on his back. Norman couldn’t help taking comfort in the touch.
“I’m sorry,” Ray did sound guilty now. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have brought her up. I won’t do that anymore.”
“It’s okay,” Norman murmured before succumbing to another fit of coughing.
He’d let Ray think the petals in his throat were because of the mere idea that Emma might fall in love with him. It was better that way. He could protect Ray that way.
He didn’t want Ray to know that he was coughing up roses because it hurt to know that Ray thought so little of himself that he didn’t even slightly suspect he was the one Norman wanted to be with.
“Should I get Mom?” Ray asked. “You need medicine.”
“No,” Norman shook his head. “There isn’t medicine for this.”
“That’s not true.” An expression Norman wasn’t sure how to read crossed Ray’s face. “There are chemical combinations that are supposed to help with the pain.”
“Those are made for adults,” Norman flinched. He remembered Mom regretfully explaining this to him a year ago. “They don’t make that for kids.”
“That’s not right,” Ray uttered.
Norman didn’t get the chance to respond. Instead he was overcome with another coughing fit. He felt Ray tense from where he knelt behind him. It was scaring him, seeing Norman like this was scaring him. Norman didn’t know what this said about him, but that thought made him feel a little bit warmer inside. It meant that Ray cared for him, not in the way Norman longed for, but those feelings were still there.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Ray asked him.
Norman shook his head. Even though the inside of his throat felt raw and he could tell from the weakness in his body that dehydration was on the list of problems he was currently wrestling, he didn’t wanna Ray to leave his side. Not just yet.
“Could you stay with me?” Norman asked in a small voice, because he was weak and this was all just too much.
“Yeah,” Ray nodded. “Whatever you need.”
So Ray held him as Norman coughed, and shook, and cried. It wasn’t the way Norman wanted Ray to hold him, but at least it made him feel a little bit better.
A week later, Mom gave him a bottle of pills. She told him that they were only to be taken on bad days. It was dangerous if he became too dependent on them. He thanked her and swallowed three as soon as she left him alone.
“You did that, didn’t you?”
His chest still hurt as he confronted that fact—that Ray had been so upset about the pain he was in that he’d somehow convinced Mom to get him the pills. Still, the medicine kept the roses from spilling out his mouth. He was grateful.
“Yeah,” Ray nodded.
As time went by, Norman learned how to make the pills last. He learned how much they made his head spin and his eyes blur when he tried to focus on his tests. He learned when to recognize he would need to take more than one.
By the age of eleven, Norman was a master at managing the lovesick illness. He knew Mom was concerned that the crush hadn’t subsided. It was getting harder to hide it from Emma. Norman doubted he would have been able to had Ray not promised to help him. She was as smart as they were, but she had grown up thinking being sick was just a part of Norman. She didn’t question it.
Norman didn’t really mind the idea of her knowing, but he wasn’t sure if she would be able to hide the truth from Ray. It was easier to lie to him if he thought he was the one lying.
It helped that Ray didn’t play tag with them. He liked to keep to himself, and Norman used the tag as a distraction and form of exercise. The stronger he made his lungs and the rest of his body, the easier it was to fight through the reactions bad enough that the medicine couldn’t keep it at bay.
He knew that he was going to cause one when he sat next to Ray as the others played. He was too tired for tag, and they had already began a different game. Norman couldn’t stop himself from leaning against the tree next to the boy he loved, and watching the focus in his eyes as she scanned each word of the book in his lap. It was a moment of weakness, that Norman knew he would soon pay the price for.
“What?” Ray finally asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sorry,” Norman couldn’t bring himself to look away.
They were growing up. He’d known Ray all of his life, but he’d never thought he was this beautiful before. It made Norman wonder what he’d be like in three years, then five, then ten.
They’d be adopted by then. They’d be considered adults.
“Are you feeling okay?” Ray reached forward. Before Norman could push him away or make up a better excuse for the dazed expression he knew had he be in his eyes, Ray’s hand was on his forehead.
It curved down to touch his cheek. Norman closed his eyes. This was bad. Enjoying this wasn’t right. Ray was just checking if he had a temperature. The touch wasn’t what Norman’s heart longed for and his chest screamed at just the idea of.
“You don’t have a fever,” Ray remarked. “You look kinda pale though.”
The roses were budding. He could feel them. If Ray kept this us, they’d bloom soon.
Norman opened his eyes. He looked at the boy leaning into his personal space. Ray’s bangs covered half of his face. Norman never understood why Mom didn’t make him cut them.
“You should tie your hair back,” he blurted.
“What?”
“You’ll see better,” Norman stated.
He caved then. He accepted that the roses would bloom and soon he’d choke. It was worth it.
“Here,” he pushed Ray’s hair behind his ear with his fingers. Both of Ray’s dark eyes were staring at him.
Norman brushed through the strands gently. He’d watched Emma and Gilda braid the younger girl’s hair. It didn’t seem that difficult. Norman eased his fingers through the surprisingly soft strands one more time before gingerly dividing Ray’s bangs into three sections. He slowly wove them together. The braid curved around Ray’s head. Norman collected more of his hair with it, finally stopping when it reached the bottom of his head.
“I could see fine before,” Ray stated. He was still looking at him.
“I can see both of your eyes now,” Norman informed him.
“And?”
“And you have pretty eyes,” Norman knew he’d regret letting the words leave his lips. He already knew the damage just thinking about them could do to him.
“Thanks,” Ray’s voice was soft. His lips turned in a smile. It wasn’t the smirk he used when he teased them, or the grin he reserved for when he won a game. Ray was actually smiling.
And Norman made that happened.
“I’m tired,” Norman stood up. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”
It took all of his will power not to run into the house and dart to the bathroom. He made sure that the door closed behind him. He stooped in front of the toilet, waiting for the rose petals to clog his throat. He waited to hack, and cry, and still think it was worth it.
But nothing came. Norman sat there for the rest of play time, but nothing happened.
He could feel the flowers in his chest, but the petals stayed stuck to them. That never happened. Every time they got this close to blooming, they would always choke him. Norman didn’t understand.
“You feeling better now?” Ray asked him that night.
Norman just nodded.
“Then why are you still acting weird?” Ray challenged.
“I’m not,” Norman placed his hands on his hips. “You’re acting weird.”
It was a childish counter argument. Ray never liked those, that was why they were so effective on him. Norman had learned that from Emma.
“Whatever,” Ray shook his head. His eyes lingered on Norman again.
“What?” Norman asked now.
“Nothing,” Ray let out a very loud sigh. “I think I’m just tired too.”
He caught Ray looking at him again the next morning. Ray’s eyes weren’t fully focused, like he hadn’t quite been able to rub the sleep out of them. No part of Ray looked fully awake that morning. Norman opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but as soon as Ray seemed to understand that he’d just been caught staring, he averted his eyes to the ground. He looked embarrassed.
Usually that would be enough for Norman to politely excuse himself and spend the next ten minutes hunched over the toilet trying not to let the petals rise to his throat. Only, now that didn’t happen. They didn’t feel like they were blooming. They barely felt like buds.
“What’s wrong with you guys?” Emma’s voice cut through Norman’s thoughts. She rested her arm on his shoulder tilting her head to question his expression.
“Tired,” Norman blurted. The word mixed with a yawn, sounding more strangled then he meant it to.
Ray looked up then, his eyes intense for a moment before settling to the calculated look they usually wore when he was about to win a chess game. Then he fell on the floor. It was better to say that he tripped. He took what should have been a perfectly normal step and then fell face first onto the ground.
“Ray!” Emma quickly detached from Norman to pull Ray to his feet.
Oh. That made sense now. That was Ray: always thinking ahead.
He knew Emma would stop touching Norman if he made her think he’d hurt himself, and if Emma wasn’t in Norman’s personal space then Norman wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Only, it was connecting those thoughts themselves that overwhelmed Norman.
Or, it should. The fact that Ray automatically dropped to the floor, most likely fully aware how stupid he looked, because he thought Norman was going to get sick should make the flowers start to bloom.
Only it didn’t. Only there wasn’t pain mingled in the warmth in Norman’s chest.
“What happened?” Emma’s voice brought Norman out of his thoughts.
“I tripped,” Ray stated.
“On what?” Emma asked.
“The air,” Norman answered for him.
Ray briefly met his eyes. Then he looked away. If Norman didn’t know any better, he’d say that Ray seemed almost flustered. Maybe it was from the ridiculous falling?
“I’m tired too,” Ray stated. “Emma, you should help Mom carry the breakfast plates. Don almost dropped them yesterday.”
“Good idea,” Emma smiled before dashing to the kitchen, dodging the toddlers that had planted themselves in her path.
“You good?” Ray waited until Emma was out of earshot.
“I think so,” Norman answered honestly.
He shouldn’t be. He really shouldn’t be, but he was.
It took a day for it to click. Even then, Norman wasn’t sure if hope was masquerading as logic. He couldn’t tell, when the most possible explanation to the lack of pain he was feeling was the one thing he never let himself believe would happen.
He ended up testing his luck.
“Come play with us,” he knelt down next to Ray. While he didn’t look up until his eyes finished scanning the page, Norman was pretty sure Ray had been watching him from when he was still approaching the tree. He mentally added that to his collection of evidence.
“I’m reading,” Ray said.
“You read every day.” Norman reached forward and took the book from Ray’s hands. He placed it onto the ground before grabbing Ray by there wrists and hauling him onto his feet.
The action left them standing close to each other. Norman let himself notice the closeness. He linger before releasing his hold on Ray. That should be enough to trigger something.
He felt his heart beat a bit faster and his head feel a bit lighter, but there was no pain. The petals weren’t growing.
“You’re acting like Emma,” Ray broke the momentary silence. He crossed his arms but stayed standing.
“I need someone on my team,” Norman pretended. “Don wants to play with everyone against me again.”
This happened every so often. Norman was pretty sure he wasn’t as exasperated as he acted. That was kind of like a second game itself—Don would be all dramatic, and Norman would take the challenge. It made playing the same game everyday more exciting.
“You do just fine on your own,” Ray was looking at him with those cool, gray eyes. Norman felt another rush, but still no pain.
“Humor me?” He asked.
He tempted fate, leaning a bit forward with just his upper body. He invaded Ray’s space ever so slightly, just enough to make it seem like he was planning something (in a way he was). Ray always went along with him when he thought there was some grand scheme involved.
“Fine,” Ray took a step back.
The look in his eyes changed. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. Maybe Norman had over done it.
“Great,” Norman beamed. “I’ll tell the others.”
They won the game. Ray didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.
The next day Norman waited for him under the tree. Ray was smart. It would take him less time to put the pieces together, especially after Norman’s behavior.
“How are you feelings?” Ray asked when he sat down next to him. There was a book in his hands but he didn’t open it.
“Good,” Norman said honestly. Ray already knew the answer, the same way Norman knew why he was asking the question.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ray asked. He didn’t look at him. His gaze were pointed to where Emma and the other kids were playing, but his eyes were far away. He sounded hurt.
He also sounded scared.
“I didn’t want you to blame yourself,” Norman told him. “It’s the same reason why you thought I wasn’t telling Emma.”
“It’s different,” Ray winced. “I knew about the sickness, I helped you get those pills. I tried to get her to give you space so it would hurt less, but really all that did was—”
Ray’s voice broke. He was crying. Norman didn’t know what to do.
“Stop,” his voice came out in a whisper. He took hold of Ray’s hand. That didn’t feel like enough, so he hugged him. “It’s okay now. All of that doesn’t matter anymore.”
Because Ray felt the same. The flowers wouldn’t have stopped if he didn’t. This was supposed to be the good part. Now they could be happy. They could spend the rest of their time at the orphanage together, and when they were adopted they would keep in touch. If they explained everything to their new parents, maybe they’d left them visit each other.
Then one day when they were older they could be together for real.
“I love you,” Norman said out loud for the first time.
Ray was still crying.
“You can’t,” Ray said. He pulled out of Norman’s embrace.
“But I do,” Norman said. “And you love me too, right?”
Ray closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” he uttered. Why he so sad right now? There wasn’t any reason to be.
“Do you wish you loved someone else?” The words were out before Norman could stop them.
He’d always thought that it didn’t matter who you fell in love with, but Ray had been the one to assume that it was Emma who Norman liked. Norman was just as close with both of them, the only difference that must have pushed the assumption was that Emma was a girl.
Maybe Ray wanted to love a girl so when he grew up he could have that kind of relationship.
“No,” Ray looked at him now. His hand was on Norman’s shoulders. The question seemed to have broke through the sadness he’d put himself in. “You’re perfect.”
Norman didn’t feel perfect, not when the boy he’d loved for years was crying because he loved him.
“Then what’s wrong?” Norman asked him.
“We can’t be happy,” Ray said.
“Why?” Norman asked. “Because we’re both boys? That doesn’t matter.”
“That’s not it,” Ray was shaking. “I—I can’t tell you what it is, okay?”
Norman didn’t understand, but he knew whatever Ray thought was in their way scared him. He grabbed hold of Ray’s hand again.
“Okay,” Norman said. “But we can face it together. I promise, I’m always going to feel like this.”
Ray winced again. Then he smiled.
“Okay,” he nodded. “For today, can we pretend that nothing matters?”
“Yeah.” To Norman, nothing did matter—nothing aside from the boy sitting in front of him.
“Can you hug me again?” Ray asked.
Norman did.
They spent the rest of play time lying under the tree in each other’s arms. It was nice. It was everything Norman could ask for. It was perfect.
The next day Connie was going to be adopted. She forgot Little Bunny in the house, so Norman went with Emma to get it to her. That was when Norman learned that in real life there was no such thing as perfect.
Ray’s reaction to loving him made more sense when Norman understood Ray’s plan. It wasn’t just knowing the truth of the world they lived him that made him certain that they couldn’t be happy, but knowing that in order for Norman and Emma to escape he’d have to sacrifice his own life. That wouldn’t happen, not if Norman had anything to say about it.
It was almost funny that it was only when his world was closing in on him that Norman could breathe. Now it didn’t hurt to look at Ray, to talk to him, to try to figure out what was going on inside of his head.
He decided to bring Emma up to speed on why his health was so much better, even though they endured the most brutal shock of their lives. He explained to her the disease he’d lived and why it was gone now.
“Oh, I know.” she stated when he finished talking.
“What?” Norman gaped at her.
“I’m not dumb,” she said with a smile. “And I’m around you just as much as Ray is. Did you really think he would figure it out and I wouldn’t?”
Yes. They both had. They’d underestimated her.
“Sorry,” Norman laughed. “I should give you more credit.”
“Yeah,” Emma sighed then laughed too. “At first I thought maybe it was me, so I was kinda too scared to ask.”
“But then you realized it was him?” He asked.
“I had a feeling,” Emma nodded. “And then I realized you were letting him think it was me so he wouldn’t think it was him. The mind game wasn’t that surprising given it’s you two.”
“Right,” Norman said sheepishly.
“I figured you’d tell me when you needed to,” she added. “So I’d acted oblivious until then to make it easier for you.”
“You’re amazing,” Norman meant this.
“Are you okay now?” She asked him. “Are things with him going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” Norman felt his lips curve into a smile. “I think they are.”
He kept thinking that until Mom broke Emma’s leg and told him that he was going to be shipped out the next day. Every hope Norman had of staying with his family—staying with Ray—was shattered.
He gave himself one moment to feel that hurt. He let himself break at the injustice of it all, cry because he’d spent so much time suffering and still was never going to be happy with the person he loved. Then he put his own pieces back together, forced himself not to linger on the hell that he knew he’d have to leave Ray to face, and figured out how to keep him and the rest of their family alive.
When Norman was dead, the sickness would hurt Ray. Still, he’d have Emma to help him through it. He’d live and move on. That was what Norman had to fight for.
As Normal placed the connected cups in his empty suitcase that night, he stopped himself from feeling sad. He’d face the end with a smile. That was how he wanted Ray, and Emma, and all of the other children to remember him.
He knew Ray was standing in the doorway before he turned around. It was the same way that he knew Ray wasn’t going to see him off. He’d stay upstairs and let the weight of what was about to happen crush him, but he wouldn’t let anyone else see him cry.
Anyone but Norman.
“You think I’m being selfish, right?” Norman asked. He still didn’t turn around. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Ray’s face.
“I want to,” Ray’s voice was soft. “But you’re doing this for us.”
“I am,” Norman murmured.
“Even though we begged you not to,” his tone was darker now.
“Yeah,” Norman said. He let himself turn around now. He had never seen Ray look so hopeless before. It hurt, but not in the way it used to. “Can you do something for me?”
“No,” Ray’s eyes were on the ground. Norman walked to him. He touched his face, let his fingers guide Ray’s eyes to him. “Don’t make me say it when you’re just going to leave me alone.”
“Please,” Norman asked. “I didn’t get to hear it.”
“I love you,” Ray whispered.
“I love you too,” Norman smiled.
Slowly, he let his lips touch Ray’s. He didn’t know how to kiss someone like this.
When they were younger, he’d kissed Emma. It was the doting kind of kiss that Mom would press to their heads. She’d kiss him too, him and all of the other children. She still did on occasion. Ray always pushed away those kind of displays of affection.
Still, when Michelle—one of the older children who had acted like their big sister all through her time with them—had left Ray hadn’t stopped her from kissing him. She’d kissed his forehead, a sweet plutonic goodbye that probably still haunted Ray today.
That wasn’t the kind of kiss Norman wanted to leave behind. He wanted to kiss Ray the way that heroes kissed princesses in fantasy books. He wanted to kiss Ray like he’d assumed he’d get the chance to in a few years. He wanted what he couldn’t have just for a moment.
Instead, he just touched Ray’s lips with his and waited for Ray to walk away.
When he did. Norman closed his eyes and told himself it was okay that this was the end.
Of course, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t okay that he was being ripped away from the people he loved, and it wasn’t really the end. At that moment, Norman just thought it was. When he left Grace Field, it wasn’t to walk to his death. No, that would have been kinder and simpler.
Instead, he was taken to Lambda.
The laboratory that didn’t bother pretending to be an orphanage taught Norman what Grace Field failed to. In Lambda, he learned the limits of human compassion. He learned that there were worse things that adults could do than break your leg or smile while sending you to your death.
Norman didn’t resist the tests or the drugs that he was told to take. He’d play the obedient subject and bide his time. Then he’d break himself and all of the other tortured children out.
That was the only way he’d be able to see his family and the boy he loved again. The only confirmation he had that Ray was alive was the lack of petals in his throat. That was enough for him. He believe that Emma had been able to save him.
Lambda wasn’t like Grace Field and that meant that escaping wouldn’t be the same either. They weren’t going to be able to run. Norman began to collect all of the information he could about the world and about the other children he was never in direct contact with.
He’d gather them together, and then they’d burn this place to the ground. He didn’t bother lying to himself and pretending that leaving the people running the hospital was an option.
This wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t tag, it was war. He couldn’t afford to take prisoners. If he did, it would only put him and all the other human children at risk.
All of the Lambda kids understood that. Norman reached out to them one by one. He was the youngest of the group, but that didn’t matter. They seemed to understand instantly that he was the only one who could lead them.
He was the only one who could change this world.
It was after they escaped that Norman felt a familiar burning in this throat. After that horrible building was in flames and real human blood was on Norman’s hands, he doubled over. He coughed until his hand was full of blood and a single white rose.
He was numb when their researched proved that the pills he’d once taken were outdated. Now, if needed the human doctors and mothers could get a medicine affective enough to null the symptoms. They added that to the list of drugs and supplies they’d steal from the farms they set out to destroy.
Norman focused on being Minerva. He focused on finding his old family and leading his new one.
Eventually the medicine’s effect on him was strong enough that all that managed to grow in him were a few petals. Then there was nothing. It was like it never happened.
Norman didn’t let himself cry over the love he’d only barely had. It was good that Ray didn’t love him anymore. If he did, right now it would only bring him pain.
It took two years for them to be reunited. Norman saw Emma first. He hugged her as she cried. He held back tears of his own. She was breathing, she was alive, she was safe.
Ray punched him. Norman wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he knew he deserved it. Then Ray held both of them and Norman pushed down a pain too strong for the pills to subdue.
He didn’t mind it that much, if that was the price for having Ray with him again then it was worth it.
The Grace Field kids settled well into the hideout. Norman spent as much time with them as he could spare from his plans that were very near completion. One evening, when he finally allowed himself a break, he found himself looking for Emma and Ray in the room they’d both been staying in.
It was on accident that he discovered Ray on the bathroom floor.
“I didn’t want you to see this,” Ray noticed him the moment he walked in.
Norman was frozen in the doorway. He wanted to speak but he didn’t know what to say. Looking at Ray hunched over those dark flowers felt like looking at a inverted image of years ago. It felt wrong.
“You need medicine,” Norman stated. “We have some. You should have told me.”
“Like you should have told me back then,” Ray winced.
Norman didn’t understand. Did Ray want to hide the fact that he’d moved on from him? Did he think Norman wouldn’t already know—couldn’t already feel that he loved someone else?
“I was going to tell you,” Ray said. “I just wanted to wait until we had the chance to talk about it. I guess that kind of backfired.”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Norman stated. “I understand.”
Ray couldn’t control how he felt, and after all he’d thought that Norman was dead for the past two years. It was good that he’d moved on. It was healthy.
“Just promise me you won’t blame yourself, okay?” Ray was smiling now. It was a sad, knowing smile. It was the kind of smile you gave someone when you could hear their thoughts, but Norman was pretty sure his were being lost in translation.
Again, words failed him.
“When I saw you again, I wasn’t thinking that we could just pick up where we left off,” Ray went on. “I don’t want that, and you don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
Ray hadn’t moved on. That didn’t make sense.
“I’m glad I get to be in your life again,” Ray pulled himself off the floor. “I don’t need it to be like that. It’s not either of our faults. I guess we kinda just missed each other.”
Ray still loved him. Those flowers were for him.
“If you ask Vincent, he can get you the medicine,” Norman said out loud. “The formula Mom got for me back then was outdated. The way the humans make it now, you can’t even feel it.”
“The pain or—” Ray hesitated. “Or the other stuff?”
“The pain,” Norman answered. “The feelings stay.”
“That makes sense,” Ray nodded. Then he smiled for real. “So, is there a reason you barged into my room?”
“No,” Norman let out a forced laugh. “Not really. I thought I’d take Emma up on that chess rematch.”
“I think she’s helping Gilda with something,” Ray said. “How about settling for me?”
“You’re on,” Norman felt himself grin.
“I’ll get the board,” Ray said.
It didn’t take long for Norman to understand the peculiar situation that the two of them had found themselves in. Norman loved Ray, and Ray loved Norman. The problem was they hadn’t seen each other in two years. Maybe for normal people living normal human lives that wouldn’t be an issue. But the two of them had experienced lifetimes in the months they were apart. They were different people now.
And maybe, if Norman was like Ray, that wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe the sickness should have been able to subside when they saw each other again, and were around each other enough to fall for each other all over again.
But Norman wasn’t like Ray. He’d been set on a different path from the moment he stepped out of Grace Field.
Over the past two years, Ray had grown. Norman had deteriorated.
Ray would not love the person that Norman was now, but Norman would always feel this way for any version of Ray.
Norman’s feelings didn’t fade when he lied about waiting for them to come back from the Seven Walls. They didn’t fade when he stained his hands again, or when Emma and Ray stopped him. They didn’t fade when Norman was forced to see what he was doing to himself and finally trust that he didn’t need to be a monster.
He let the boy he loved and the girl who had saved both of them lead him into the light.
When it was all over and they were finally in the human world, things didn’t feel real. Of course, they quickly learned that their happiness wasn’t going to be that simple. The fear at losing Emma was quickly replaced with confidence that they’d be able to fine her. If he and Ray were working together, Norman was certain that there wasn’t much they couldn’t do.
A year passed but Norman’s focus didn’t waver. That must have been how he didn’t notice that the treatment for the Lambda disease seemed to clear all lingering health problems. He’d assumed, that even if the flowers couldn’t grow some of the discomfort he’d gotten used to was from them.
It was after they found Emma and accepted the sacrifice that their survival had cost that Norman made a mistake. They decided to spend some time staying in the town they’d reunited in to make the shock of meeting strangers she had history with a bit easier on Emma. Norman, Ray, and a handful of the others booked a hotel and spent the evening answering some of the questions Emma had.
That night Norman realized that in his haste to make the accommodations and excitement that they finally had the missing piece to their family he had forgotten that he hadn’t brought any of the pills that stopped the sickness with him.
He wouldn’t be able to get any until the next morning, and that was only if the local pharmacy carried them. For a moment he considered asking Ray if he had any, but that was out of the question.
Norman was fairly certain that Ray hadn’t needed the medicine for the year that they’d lived in the human world. Ray had moved on for real, but Norman was still keeping the flowers at bay and hiding the truth from Ray.
“Something wrong?” Ray’s voice startled him.
The hotel rooms were expensive, so it had made sense for the kids that were staying to pair up and share. In the moment, he hadn’t thought there would be a problem sleeping in the same bed as Ray. Norman had set himself up for torture.
“No,” he said out loud.
“Okay?” Ray raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m exhausted so can we turn the lights off already?”
“Right,” Norman stammered. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“Yeah,” Ray looked at him more thoughtfully now. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I am,” Norman nodded.
“It’s a lot to take in,” Ray was moving closer to him now. “She’s never going to remember anything that happened.”
“Yeah,” Norman breathed out.
“But that doesn’t mean things can’t be like they used to be,” Ray added. “I mean, she’s still Emma memories or not. It’ll be weird at first, but she wants to get to know us.”
“It is weird,” Norman said. “All of this.”
“You mean the fact that there isn’t something to fight?” Ray asked. “Even though we’ve been safe for the past year, we were still fighting to find her. Now we’re just safe.”
“She doesn’t remember the bad stuff,” Norman stated. “I kind of envy that.”
If he was free from his memories, would he be able to be the person Ray once loved? Norman tried hard not to think about that. He couldn’t undo the things that made him who he was. Still, it was hard knowing that at one point Ray had loved him enough to pause the sickness and had loved the memory of him enough to gain his own.
“Yeah,” Ray said. “Memory can be a curse sometimes.”
He was standing too close. He was looking at Norman with one of the few expressions of his that Norman didn’t have memorized. Back when he was a child, this would have been all it took to send him into a coughing fit.
Now he could feel his heart beating faster. This was bad.
“It’s late,” Norman forced himself to look away from Ray. “We should get some sleep.”
He turned off the light and laid as still as he could on the twin sized hotel bed. He felt Ray lying down on the other side. Then a tug at the blankets.
Before the sickness, he used to crawl into Ray’s bed whenever one of them had a nightmare. If it was really bad, they’d make the journey to the girls room and huddle Emma under a blanket too small for the three of them.
When Norman realized that sleeping next to Ray would do more harm than good, he pretended that nightmares didn’t bother him anymore. On the rare occasion that it was so bad he couldn’t handle it, he’d go to Emma. Most of the time, Ray would come with him. It didn’t hurt so much when it was the three of them.
There wasn’t room to think about feelings with Emma there with them. She made it easier. She tied their friendship together. Even if time made them as close as they used to be, it was never going to be like that again.
Right now, there wasn’t someone between the two of them to brush away thoughts of romantic feelings. Right now Norman could feel Ray’s breath on his shoulder. His head was resting on the same pillow just inches from Norman’s.
If either of them moved at all, their shoulders touched.
Norman was sure he would not make it through the night.
Only he did. While he felt his heart race and his body remind himself that he was in fact a teenager now, nothing grew in his chest that night. The next day when he was right about the pharmacy not selling the pills to the relatively rare disease, he still didn’t feel anything blooming inside him.
It didn’t make any sense. Norman knew his feelings weren’t gone. He wasn’t cured, but the flowers weren’t coming.
A few days slipped by. Norman was genuinely enjoying getting to know Emma all over again. It was kind of nice to see her smiling and knowing that at least she was free from the trauma the rest of them would never fully escape.
A small group of them walked through the town one night. Don and Emma wanted to go window shopping, while Gilda was tasked with preventing them from spending their money on something they didn’t need.
Norman liked walking in the snow. He enjoyed the fact that, while the cold wasn’t exactly pleasant, with his system stronger it didn’t affect him the way it had in childhood. He opted to sit on a bench outside instead of going into the third toy shop with the others.
The streets in his part of the town were practically empty. The calm was pleasant. Norman immediately noticed Ray lingering near him and not following the others into the store.
“Something’s on your mind,” he said as he sat down. “And it’s not about Emma.”
“Is it that obvious?” Norman asked.
“No,” Ray smiled. “But it is to me.”
“Right,” Norman knew Ray could read him.
“You know,” Ray was looking at his hands. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk about for a while, but I didn’t want to do it until things were normal again.”
“Is there even a normal for us?” Norman asked honestly.
“I don’t think so,” Ray said. “But I at least figured it was better to do this once we found her. It would feel weird to try to have this conversation before.”
“Okay,” Norman nodded. “What is it?”
“Can I ask you something?” Ray looked at him now.
“Anything,” Norman replied. There wasn’t room for secrets anymore. He was ready to tell Ray anything he wanted to know.
“Do you love me?”
Anything but that.
“What brought that on?” Norman asked. He took in Ray’s expression, the patient look on his face.
“You know part of me thought this was a game but it really isn’t, is it?” Ray tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.
“What are you talking about?” Norman was done with games. He’d learned too many times that he never really won any of them.
“You knew about the new medicine because you had to take it, right?” Ray asked him. “Because of me.”
Norman felt cold.
“You figured that out or did one of them let it slip?” Norman asked.
The only people who new about the sickness was his team. It had actually been pretty convenient when he was trying to hide the Lambda disease from them. If he ever seemed sick, he could blame it on the flowers.
“You talked about it like you knew,” Ray answered. He made a face. “And you also gave me miss information.”
“What?” Norman didn’t know what Ray was talking about.
“I asked you what the medicine stopped,” Ray explained. “You said the feelings stay.”
“They do,” Norman uttered. They had for him.
“Yeah,” Ray smirked. “And so do the flowers.”
Norman just stared at him. That wasn’t true. Eventually, the medicine had stopped them from growing.
“I have another question,” Ray went on.
“I have several,” Norman stated.
“Humor me first,” Ray was still smirking.
“Fine,” Norman crossed his arms. “What is your question?”
“Why do you think you got it when we were separated?” Ray asked.
“Because we weren’t the same people that we used to be,” Norman had mentally been over this a thousand times. It felt a bit odd to say it out loud. “Because we changed.”
“You make everything so complicated,” Ray teased. “Yeah, that’s what I figured you’d say. It doesn’t explain why I got it, though.”
That caught Norman off guard.
“What are you talking about?” Norman blinked at him. “You got it because I’m the me you used to be in love with. I’m never going to be that me again.”
Even if he was given another chance, Norman was still the same person who took on the name Minerva. In the end he’d played by Emma’s rules, but doing so hadn’t changed him back to the boy he used to be.
“I really should have tried to actually talk to you back when you found me in that bathroom,” Ray grimaced. “I thought it would make things uncomfortable, and there was so much going on.”
Norman waited for Ray to get to his point. He was being vague on purpose, Norman understood that.
“I don’t think that you can get the disease from loving the idea of a person,” Ray stated. “Most people don’t even getting from their feelings not being returned. That’s why the medicine’s less common. It’s gotta be real, deep, insane love. I think that’s why Mom never got it, even though I think she loved someone once.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Norman shook his head. “How come we both had it when were separated? We still loved each other, just not the people we were anymore.”
“I got it when I saw you again,” Ray said.
Norman felt his world shift.
“That’s what I didn’t know how to tell you,” Ray’s voice was a bit sheepish now. “When I thought you dead, there was a long while where I held on. I didn’t want to let go of the feelings, because that meant accepting you were gone.”
They had talked about back then before. Norman met the family Ray had gained, and heard about the ones that they lost. Still, this was a fragment of that time that he hadn’t heard before.
“But that’s what you wanted me to do,” Ray said. “You wanted me to move forward and protect our family. So I let you go. I think that’s when you got it.”
Norman heart hammered in his chest. He hadn’t gained the disease because he turned into a monster. Those flowers hadn’t bloomed because there was blood on his hands, it was because of what he’d initially assumed back then. Ray had let him go.
Seeing him again, must had brought all of that back.
“But I still had it,” Norman whispered. “I still feel like this.”
“Norman,” Ray leaned a bit closer to him now. “You had the feelings, not the flowers.”
Suddenly, Ray’s hand was on Norman’s chest. It hovered over his heart—the spot that white roses used to take root.
“When did they stop growing?” Ray asked.
Norman’s sense of time back then hadn’t been very clear. He counted the days passing and kept the plans he made precise, but those weeks had felt like years. He didn’t think he could remember the moment he stopped coughing petals.
“After I burned down the first farm,” something inside him answered. He hadn’t realized he remembered it, but the second the words left his mouth he could see himself standing there.
It was what they had to do. If they didn’t, those barely alive humans would just continue to suffer before being eaten. Those were the ones they couldn’t save, but they weren’t like the doctors at Lambda that Norman had killed. When he and his team burned those farms, they were taking innocent lives.
No amount of justification, or understanding, or greater good took away how that felt. He could still feel the warmth of that fire on his skin. He could smell the flames catching those corpses.
“Hey,” Ray’s hand was still on his heart. His voice brought Norman back.
He wasn’t there anymore. He was safe, and no one was going to have to live or die like that again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” Ray looked worried. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Norman nodded. He closed his eyes. “That was the moment I let go, wasn’t it?”
That was when he’d decided it was okay that he wasn’t going to make it out of this. Standing in front of the fire he had let Norman die to be Minerva. He didn’t let himself get too close to any of the children they saved—not even the team of friends who dedicated their lives to him.
Norman locked his feelings away. How could he love anyone like that?
“You know when mine stopped growing?” Ray was smiling again. “It was when you came back to us. When you finally listened and let us in.”
“Yours stopped?” Norman uttered. They hadn’t just faded out with no longer existent feelings?
“They did,” Ray nodded. “Because what I felt wasn’t unrequited anymore.”
“But I’m still a different person,” Norman blurted. “Ray, I didn’t get stronger like you did. I turned into something else. You saw it.”
“I know,” Ray’s voice was even. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have been with you.”
“Just because I listen to you and Emma, doesn’t mean I’m not still capable of all that.” Norman felt himself flinch. “I’m still a murderer.”
“We all did things—”
“No,” Norman didn’t let Ray keep going. “You can’t say what you’ve done or what Emma’s done is as bad as me. That’s a lie and you know it.”
“How you feel right now is how I felt when you said that you loved me for the first time,” Ray said calmly.
Norman didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I spent my whole life sacrificing everything I could to save you and Emma,” Ray told him. “I didn’t want you to love me for so many reasons, but the biggest one was that I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“You were a child,” Norman tried.
“So were you,” Ray replied.
“You were backed into a corner,” Norman said. “You thought that was the only thing you could do, and to some extent you were right.”
“So were you,” Ray said again.
“Stop,” Norman couldn’t take this. “It’s not the same thing.”
“I’m not saying it is,” Ray took hold of his hand. “I’m saying I know what you were thinking when you were Minerva, and it didn’t make me stop loving you.”
Norman felt tears sting his eyes. He didn’t want to break down right now. He wanted to be stronger than that.
“That sickness might have started because I didn’t know who you were anymore, but I fell in love with this you the second I punched you.”
“That’s very romantic,” Norman couldn’t help joking.
“I loved you when you lied to us,” Ray kept going. “And I think when you let go of being Minerva, you let yourself love me again.”
There was a tremor in Ray’s voice. Both of them could follow the logic. Ray knew the facts of what was and wasn’t happening to their bodies. Still, even though he knew his sickness leaving had limited explanations, he seemed nervous to say this out loud.
“Because I didn’t stop loving you,” Ray said. “I’m never going to. Even if it means growing those things inside me again.”
“You won’t,” Norman blurted. “I won’t let that happen again.”
A hopeful look took over Ray’s face. There was light in his eyes. Norman had put that light there.
“Can you do something for me?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know,” Norman let himself smirk.
“Please,” Ray was looking at him.
“I love you,” Norman said.
This time Ray kissed him.
Their second kiss was closer to what Norman had dreamed of his first being. He still didn’t know what he was doing, but he was pretty sure Ray didn’t either. Even though there were sitting out in the snow, even though Ray’s lips were cold against Norman’s, he felt warm as he kissed Ray.
Ray’s arms snaked around his waste, they pulled him closer. Norman wanted to be closer. Year’s off keeping his distance left him starved for Ray’s touch. Now Ray was holding him. Now his hands were in Ray’s hair, and Ray’s tongue was in his mouth, and he loved him so much.
“And now we know why they didn’t want to come inside.”
It was Don’s voice that broke them out of their spell. Norman quickly pulled apart from Ray to see their three friends standing in front of the bench. Gilda and Don looked mildly embarrassed, despite Don’s quick comment. Emma was laughing.
“That took long enough,” she said.
All of them stared at her.
“What?” She looked from Don to Gilda. “It was obvious, right?”
Now Ray was laughing.
“Did you tell her?” Norman looked at him.
Ray just shook his head. Then Norman was laughing too. Emma had only been back in their lives for a few days, but she had easily read what Norman still hadn’t been able to figure out on his own.
“That’s the same thing you said before,” Ray finally said to Emma.
“Well, I’m right,” she beamed at him. “Come on love birds, we’re gonna go get hot coco.”
Ray stood from the bench and offered Norman a hand he didn’t need to help him up. Norman took it and didn’t let go.
“I love you,” Ray smiled at him. This time there wasn’t any sadness behind it.
“I love you,” Norman echoed. He leaned his head on Ray’s shoulder.
As they walked, it started lightly snowing again. The little flakes looked almost like petals. That didn’t bother Norman they way it once might have. He didn’t have to be afraid of the flowers, they weren’t coming back.