Chapter Text
The Wells Apartment
11:57 P.M. The red-rimmed numbers shone out in the dark room, rivaled only by the hazy streetlight filtered through blackout curtains. Hazel Wells had stayed up this late before, on rare occasions. New Years Eve waiting for the ball to drop and fireworks to light up the sky. At sleepovers with friends. Or at the midnight theater release for the latest Gregory movie or other horror film that caught her eye and she could convince Antony to take her too. Tonight, that wasn't the case. Tonight, she stayed up to cling to the last moments of Spring Break. Hazel never wanted it to come to an end.
Reason #1: It meant that Antony would have to go back to college, again. Why did he always have to leave as soon as he came home? Still, she was glad he even came home at all. Plus, he now knew about fairies and helped save all of Fairy World from the Anti-Fairies and the Dimmadomes...
Reason #2: It meant that she'd have to see Dev again. Hazel liked to think that she had made peace with her and Dev not being friends. His birthday and the Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament made that abundantly clear. That and the fact that he aligned himself with Irep and the Anti-Fairies, took over Fairy World, imprisoned Peri, Cosmo, Wanda...nearly every fairy. Left them to die of magical backup. But he did help them in the end. He did point to where the Big Wand's chip was and let it be restored. He did the right thing and accepted the memory wipe.
"Well maybe I deserve it, Hazel."
Hazel wasn't so sure. She didn't like feeling so unsure. It made her stomach twist into knots and her tongue get stuck in her tooth gap. She wasn't sure of what type of Dev she'd meet at school today. Dev the name-calling rich jerk? Dev the sad, attention-starved rich kid? Dev the remorseful? Dev doesn't care? He got Peri right after Founder's Day, right? Right after their big argument. They made up at the museum sleepover but Dev wouldn't remember that. Would he? She didn't know the full extent of Jorgen's memory wiping. Did it just remove things related to fairies? Remove or replace? What about the emotions associated with those memories of fairies? Ugh, thinking about the logistics of a magical memory wipe just made her head spin even more.
Just try and think of something that isn't your brother or Dev. What did Mr. Guzman say before we went on break? Something about standardized tests and Parent Teacher Conferences? Neither of those could alight her anxiety. If anything, it brought her peace. Hazel closes her eyes at the thought of reassuring structure and standardization brought by testing. The modified schedules. The bubble filling. The strange recycled feeling of the paper testing booklets. And parent teacher conferences right after that! Her parents could hear how good of a student she was straight from Mr. Guzman's mouth! Maybe Mom and Dad would even take her out for french fries afterwards!
Knock. Knock.
Her bedroom door slowly opened and Antony poked his head through. Hazel sat up, wiped her heavy eyelids, and stared at her older brother. "Hey small fry, I see you're still up. You really shouldn't be though, it's 2 minutes till tomorrow."
"I know, big fry. But I can't sleep! Too much going on up here!" Hazel retorted as she pointed to her head.
"Yeah, I get it. A real eventful spring break, real magical." Antony winks as he takes a seat at the edge of Hazel's bed. "But don't worry, Cosmo and Wanda's secret is safe with me. That Jorgen dude was kinda scary."
"Nah, he's a big softy. And besides, you're not even going to tell Dejah?" Hazel teases. She reaches out and turns on her bedside lamp. Hazel was in her pajamas and bonnet. Antony was fully dressed and held a carry-on bag in his left hand.
"No, I won't even tell Dejah, not unless I really have to. But then I'd have to..." Antony's joking tone stops as he notices the pout on his younger sister's face. "I can't stay home forever, Hazel. My flight out is at 3:00 in the morning. Mom's up too, she's going to give me a ride to the airport and see me off." He reminds her.
Hazel already knew of the plan. Her family had discussed it at dinner earlier tonight and at dinner last night. Etc. Still didn't mean that she liked it. Why couldn't he fly out after she was done with school today or while she was at school? That way she had a reason to miss school, to miss dealing with Dev, and could spend another great day with her awesome older brother! But no, he had to leave at a crazy early hour in the morning!
"I know!" Hazel shouts before turning around and stuffing her face into the pillow.
"But it's not just me leaving that has you down, is it?"
Hazel separates her face from her pillow and nods. "Yeah, I'll run into Dev Dimmadome tomorrow."
Antony glances at the clock. "Today actually." He cracks a grin.
Hazel looks back and forth between her brother and the clock. "Not helpful."
"Worth a shot. Look, I'll be real with you, small fry, from what I saw you don't owe that Dimmadome kid anything. I know you two were briefly friends and he's got some issues with his dad or whatever. But, this isn't a reset button. He still did all that..."
"I know! I was there! I held Wanda as she was just about to turn in confetti and glitter!" Hazel cries out, tears burst forth her tired eyes. Antony reaches out and pulls his sister close to his chest.
The door opened again, this time their mother, Angela Wells poked her head in. Her expression shifts from curiosity to concern. "Oh no, what's got my baby girl crying?"
Antony held his arm out, shielding Hazel's sobs and keeping his mom from coming closer. "She's still sad that I'll be leaving soon. I know, I probably shouldn't have woken her up but she'd be more upset if I left without properly saying goodbye. I got this, mom."
Angela held her hands to her heart and gasped. "Well, if you insist. I haven't seen Hazel get this worked up in awhile, she's usually so mature for her age, like you were. If you ever need to talk Hazel, know that I'm here for you."
Hazel sticked up her hand and gave a shaky thumbs up as a reply. Angela smiled and blew her children a kiss before leaving the room.
Hazel pushes away from her brother and falls back onto her pillow. She had stopped crying but her eyes were still red and puffy. "Ugh! Only I can't talk with mom about this stuff! Jorgen would flip!"
"You just told me he was a big softy." Antony tilts his head.
"No he's not! He'd probably send me to Abracatraz!" Hazel panics, she tries to keep her voice quiet, it comes out even more high-pitched then usual. She takes a deep breath. "I've told Mom a bit about Dev but she tells me to not worry about him either. But I can't help worrying about him, what he'll say tomorrow to me at school, and what if he remembers?"
Antony firmly grips Hazel's shoulders and stares at her. "Hey, small fry, deep breaths. Deep breaths. Or do I need to get Mom back in here and do we need to do a family ‘it's going to be alright’ dance?"
Hazel takes several deep breaths and pushes herself away from Antony. The 10-year old rubs her reddened eyes and sighs. "I'll be okay..."
"It's okay if you're not, Hazel. There are plenty of times when I'm not okay. Like when I'm about to have finals in a class. Or anytime I need to go talk to my academic advisor. Or when I was about to ask Dejah out on a first date. Or soon I'm going to have to pick a major!" Antony lists out.
"Wait, what was that third one?" Hazel asks with a curious glint in her eye and a sly smile. "And deciding a major is easy, I'd pick geology!"
"Well good for you, small fry. But the point is, these thoughts can eat away at you, but only if you let them. I know you care for Dev, you've seen the good in him, even if it's deep, deep, deep, deep down in him. But if just thinking about talking to him tomorrow is getting you this worked up, then don't. If he comes up to you, you can simply say 'no'. You already have good friends, Jasmine and Winn. You have Cosmo and Wanda. You have Mom and Dad. And even if I'm hundreds of miles away at school, you still got me." Antony hugs his little sister once more.
Hazel hugs back. "I know, big fry. You know, you kinda sound like Mom right now. You said something she'd say to me or one of her clients. Maybe you should try to major in what she majored in...sociology? Psychology? I don't know. But you'd be good at it!"
Antony winced at the idea. "Ugh, Mom and Dad both have been *encouraging* me to do the same degree as either of them. But I wanna go my own way! I'm just not quite sure what that is yet. But, that's not for you to worry about."
"Hmm, maybe you could be a therapist for ghosts and cryptids!" Hazel pipes up before stifling back a yawn.
Antony smirks at the sight, finally his little sister is tired. And watching her fight against such an observation is down right adorable. "Huh, you hear that? Sounds like you're already dreaming!"
Hazel narrows her eyes before falling down onto her back in tune with another gaping yawn. "Fine, you got me. Goodnight, big fry!"
Antony stood up and tossed the blanket over Hazel's body. He grabbed his carry-on and turned off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight, small fry. Get some rest."
Dimmadome Tower
*He's right, son. Listen to your business partner." Dale declares matter-of-factly.
"But if we're partners, then we should listen to each other. Keyword: Partners" Dev protests.
"Nuh-uh. Keyword: Business. Removing the competition should always be your goal." Dale shook his head, rubbed his hands together and stood up. "~~~~~, tell me your vision for ~~~~~"
And with that, Dev had lost his one big chance to gain his father's everlasting approval and attention.
Dev awoke with a startle. He gasped and almost choked on his spittle. His face and hair was slick with sweat, causing little ringlet curls to dare rear their head. He sat up and looked around his room. It wasn't dark. It never truly was. His tablet laid screen side up on the floor, the music from some puzzle game chimed out in muffled chiptune. His sunglasses clung to the collar of his hoodie. He probably fell asleep just after losing a level. Fell asleep while in his hoodie and boots. He licked his own teeth and breathed into his hand. His teeth felt sticky and sugary and his breath smelled pretty much the same. It wasn't uncommon for Dev to fall asleep after a long session of playing video games. The theme for Tarantula Tap Dancing Time Travelers had practically become a lullaby for him. But he still had to brush his teeth and wash his face.
"Au-Pair 1, Au-Pair 2, take me to the bathroom!" Dev ordered.
The two drones were docked on their charging station. They briefly light up in tandem. "Charging at 20%."
"So? Get off and take me to the bathroom! I need to brush my teeth." He reiterated.
"We cannot get off. We are charging. We cannot function until we reach 100%." The drones protested in unison.
Dev shook his head. "Since when?"
"Since the latest firmware update." Au-Pair 1 said.
"Which was?" Dev asked, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
"Yesterday night." Au-Pair 2 said.
The two drones shut down, the winddown of their machinery like a taunting chuckle.
Dev pushed himself off his bed and balled his hands into fists. "Ugh! Must I do everything myself?"
He kicked off his boots and replaced them with slippers. One would have to give Dale Dimmadome and the fashion designers under his employee some credit, the outfits he wore (and made his son copy) were designed to be worn comfortably 24/7/365. Breathable for summer. Insulatory for winter. Water Repellent and stain-resistant. All in a water-downed streetwear meets tacky western aesthetic. If he had to wear it all the time, so be it, at least he could doze off in it.
As Dev walked out of his room and to the elevator in a rare state. Bereft of his devices. He left his tablet on the bed. He had misplaced his purple headphones. And the Au-Pairs had just refused him. Of course, he was never truly separated from it. Dimmadome Tower itself was as much a technical marvel as it was a testament to his family's self-aggrandizing legacy. The exterior was modeled after his grandfather's 10-gallon hat and all the relevant living spaces of the interior held on extruded out of a golden statue of his father, gold teeth, boots, and all. The elevator Dev enters ran in line with the statue's steel spine.
Dev's hand hovered over the button panel. Instead of numbers indicating floor, each was represented by an icon. A hat for the lobby. Sunglasses for Dev's room. A cereal bowl for the cereal bar. A blender for the actual kitchen. His dad's room and office were represented by a pair of boots, of course. Dev presses the toilet button, obviously the bathroom. A button embossed with a giant dollar sign lies at the bottom, its gleam haunts Dev.
He looks away from it quickly and tries not to think about his birthday. About Project H. About why he doesn't know how he knows. And this isn't the only thing he doesn't know how he knows.
Since Spring Break had started, he'd been having strange dreams. Dev wasn't a kid who put much stock into dreams or wishes. Why would he? He was a Dimmadome. He was rich. If he wanted something, he'd just ask the Au-Pairs to fetch it from one of Dimmadome Global's warehouses or schedule it. The only thing he ever really dreamed about was gaining his father's approval and attention. But lately, that changed. Visions of corporate takeover and succession replaced with vague recollections. Like headlights in the fog that break through his hopes. Or delusions. Or whatever. They were never all that clear to begin with.
But they were frequent.
The business partner's dream was the most frequent. No, it wasn't a dream, it was a memory. A recent one at that, from just before Spring Break. He could remember what was said but not where it was said. Not why. And it wasn't the only memory that had missing pieces and turned to fuzz whenever he tried to think on it too much. They went back weeks. Months even. Most of it he could remember with perfect clarity. Soon, a pattern emerges of what he doesn't recall. A common denominator.
Hazel Wells. His once friend! His fated rival! His classmate. And nothing more. Nothing more.
Dimma-Ding!
The elevator finally reached the bathroom level and opened its doors. Dev hurries out, banishing his thoughts. Before he can cross the suspended walkway to the bathroom, someone catches his attention.
His dad was pacing back and forth in the lobby, on the phone with someone else and clearly vocal about it. Dale often remarked to his son about how he could live off of 2 hours of sleep per day, often in the form of 20 minute power naps throughout the 24 hour period. So, it wasn't surprising to see him ranting over the phone at midnight. What was surprising was how loud he was getting.
Dev crouched down low and pressed his ear to the railing, eavesdropping in on his dad's half of the conversation.
"Look, I don't care that you're in the area, I'm still a very busy man. There a million things I could be doing with these precious seconds rather then entertaining *you*. After all you did to me!" Dale shouts into his phone.
Dev shivered slightly at the volume and intensity. For a brief moment, it makes him glad that his dad more so expressed annoyance over anger for his existence. Even when he screwed up, Dale framed it as a setback in some grand project of his.
"Well? Do I need to spell it out for you? You dumb wh-!" Dale bites his tongue before he can utter profanity. He pinches his brow. "No, no, you're right, that was uncalled for. But, I'm not going to apologize."
Dev squints as he stares at his father's face, hidden by shadow and his free hand. Were his eyes watery? They were. Dale was fighting back tears.
"You can keep trying to explain yourself all you want. All I'm hearing are excuses. It's my turn to tell my side of the story! I spent 7 years stuck in that dungeon! The sweat, lemon juice, and sugar burned my eyes. But when I finally saw the light again, guess who was there to welcome me back? My dear old dad, Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Yes, I know you know who he is, you two used to be a fling back in the late 80s. A fling that led to you being stuck with me then you pawned me off when it was most convenient for you. If you didn't bother to reconnect then, why now?" Dale's question hung in the air.
"Stay the hell away from me and my son, Mom." With that Dale hung up and pocket away his phone.
"Wait, was that my grandmother?" Dev asks himself. Even though it was barely a whisper, Dale heard him.
"Who's there?" Dale spun around on his heels and spots his son eavesdropping from above. He whistles, summoning a drone (identical to the Au-Pairs in casing but apart in programing) to pluck his son down. The robotic pincher grabs Dev by the hood of his jacket. He squirms and struggles for a moment before being dropped at his father's booted feet. "Development Devin Dimmadome, what have I told you about snooping about?"
Dev bristled at being referred to by his full (utterly dehumanizing) name. It wasn't until recently that the name was fully registered as such. Dale might as well have named him Project D or something along those lines. "Not to do it."
"And why is that?"
"Because I might walk in on important trade secrets and then reveal them to everyone else." Dev parrots the answer given to him hundreds of times before. Not that he'd ever actually spilled the beans on his dad. Despite everything, Dev loved his father and his companies. He loved being a Dimmadome.
"Correct. Although, in this case it's a family secret." Dale explained.
"Uh-huh. That was my other grandmother on the phone, wasn't it?" Dev crossed his arms.
Dale grimaced. "Don't use familial terms to describe that woman! But yes, she was my birthing machine. It's my greatest pride to be born in a Dimmadome. But alas, it was a struggling actress my dad took pity on while he himself was wallowing in heartbreak."
Dev held up his hands and shuffled back. "I know, dad. I've watched the documentaries and I've listened to Grandpa." Doug Dimmadome had taken on three notable women as wives throughout his almost full century of life. The first and only one to be remotely close to him in age was Daffodil Dimmadome. She was right by his side when he left Dimmesdale and found gold in 1953, founding Dimmadelphia. She was with him when he returned to Dimmesdale and broke ground on the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Alas, she died in '87 in a car crash. Grandpa always spoke kindly of her and her image was used on Dimmadome Global's line of Nana Daffy's products, a dirty blonde bombshell silhouette stamped onto maple syrup bottles, bed sheets, and toilet paper rolls.
Doug's third and current wife was the one Dev had actually met in person: Dahlia Dimmadome. As a little kid, Dev remembers being scared of her, of her cold steely gaze and the steps of her towering high-heels tapping against exotic hardwood floors. Nowadays, he just gets bored anytime he's stuck in a room with her. Dahlia ran her own business and legal consulting firm back in California. Doug brought her on as an advisor for a new business venture and she became something of a mentor to a teenaged Dale. She taught him how to view people as tools and functions. Dev was partly convinced his grandfather had married her just so she could execute his will. Perhaps unluckily for her, their marriage has lasted 17 years and Doug Dimmadome still dimma-lives on.
Doug's second wife had been an actress. That's all Dev knew about his biological grandmother. He didn't know her name, nor know what films she may have been in. If she had even been in any films. He knew their marriage had been a brief fling in the late 80s. Doug had gotten her pregnant with Dale and filed for divorce not long after. Dale was raised by his mother for the first 6 years of his life, supported by handsome child support payments from Doug. Then, Vicky happened.
"What's she in Dimmadelphia for?" Dev asked.
Dale shrugged and gave a half answer. "Ah, some new job opportunity." Already, he had taken out his phone and was about to call someone else or start answering emails.
Dev took a step closer, clinging at his dad's legs. "And you don't want me to see her, because?"
Dale glared down at him and raised an eyebrow. Dev rarely talked back to his father, usually he was too desperate for the chance to even talk to him one on one to begin with then to endanger it with his grievances. But the reoccurring dreams had done their job in reminding Dev that he'd probably never have his dad's unconditional love. Dale probably didn't even know what unconditional meant. But if there was a chance he could get that from someone else, someone who wanted to meet him and love him, then why shouldn't Dev take it?
"Because she's a foolish old hag who wasted her time and talent. Because she took advantage of my dad's generosity and heartbreak. And because she's just downright irresponsible with kids." Dale explained in a bawking tone.
"Apple didn't fall far from the tree." Dev mumbled under his breath.
"What did you just say, Development?" Dale heard it then bemoaned. "Ugh, are you still mad about the Vicky thing at your birthday party or whatever?"
Dev went rigid for a moment at the reminder. The fog at the periphery of his memory closed in, obscuring the details and blunting his emotions. "Why aren't you angry about it, dad? She held you captive and forced you to work for 7 years, remember?"
Dale shrugged and even smiled thoughtfully. "Ah, I hold no ill-will towards Vicky herself. She was just a teenager when it happened. We all make mistakes when we're young and enamored with power. Besides, my time in her Lemonade Dungeon taught me the value of hard work! Made me the man I am today! You could stand to learn a thing or two about that, son."
Dev faced palms at the hypocrisy and bad coping skills.
Dale continued. "Her true crime against me, against us, was depriving me of my heritage and afflicting us with these physical abnormalities." His dad's eyes flit to the small curls forming in Dev's hair as an example. "Anyway, isn't tonight a school night or something?"
"Yeah, I was just going to brush my teeth when I..." Dale's laughter interrupted his son's explanation.
"Uh, you still do that? Don't worry about it, soon I'll get you a nice set of goldies to replace them. Alright, good talk? Good talk." Dale turned and walked away.
Before Dev could get another word in, the drone grabbed by the hood again and lifted him skyward, depositing him back on the elevated walkway. "Ugh, this one leads to the cereal bar, not the bathroom!" He yelled at the drone.
It shrugged it's robotic arms before flying away.
Cosmo and Wanda’s Sofa
Restful sleep seemed impossible for Peri to achieve. Maybe it was because he was still crashing on his parent's sofa. Maybe it was the lingering aches and pains he felt as a side effect of nearly dying from magical backup. Maybe it was the shame and guilt from failing and losing Dev. His first godkid and he absolutely blew it.
Maybe he could cry himself to sleep.
Something must have worked because eventually, Peri was woken up by heavy footsteps and a looming shadow.
As he slid off his eye mask he was greeted by the grizzled visage of one Jorgen Von Strangle. "Eh, Jorgen? What are you doing here? Ahh-eep!"
Peri's voice turned to a squeak as Jorgen grabbed him by the head and pulled him out from under his covers. "Rise and shine, Peri-weri, it is time for your remedial training."
"Ahh-oop." Peri was tossed from hand to hand. Jorgen now held him upside down by the right leg. "Uh, look, I know I messed up with Dev. I messed up big time. But, uh, I don't see how remedial training will fix anything. I mean, I graduated from the Fairy Academy only six months ago. Everything you taught me is still fresh in my head!" Peri smiled awkwardly and flung a thumbs up as Jorgen stomped out of the living room and towards the apartment door, opening it up in Fairy World.
"In fact, I'm pretty sure it's ingrained on my skull." Peri muttered pitifully as he rubbed the side of his head.
Jorgen didn't buy the sympathy plea. A rumbling laugh emerged from his wide mouth. "You've got it wrong, I didn't make this decision, the Fairy Council did. They don't care about how recent the information is to you. They're going hard on me, so I gotta go hard on you. But don't worry, I'll make this fun for us! Perhaps, it won't even take 10 years."
"But, I didn't lose my copy of Da Rules, I use it as my pillow, so that rule doesn't apply to me in this case." Peri corrected him.
Jorgen looked over the shoulder just before passing through the doorway. Peri's pillowcase was in fact occupied by the giant purple book. "While I appreciate your dedication towards upholding Da Rules, if you put half that energy towards keeping an eye on Dev and meeting his emotional needs, neither of us would be in this mess."
The Fairy Commander's words cut deep. Peri frowned and looked away. "Sigh. You're right, Jorgen. But he kept wishing me away! 'A godchild must always get what they want', right? And if that's what Dev wanted, then how am I supposed to refuse that? And when that's the only thing he wishes for, for weeks on end? How am I supposed to notice things before it's too late? And I did keep an eye on Dev. I kept an ear out for him too. But I saw less and less of him and he stopped speaking to me. I know now that what he needed for me to do was reach out, but a fairy godparent is only supposed to give a godchild what they want. Not what they might need. And that's Da Rules."
Peri realized he was looking at Jorgen at eye level. He'd been too caught up in his rant to realize that he had wriggled free from the powerful fairy's grip and flown up to meet his gaze head on. Peri shrinks up and lowers himself. "I..uh...didn't mean to imply or offend anything, Jorgen! Da Rulez are great as is! I love them so much I use my copy as a pillow!" Peri backtracks.
Jorgen summoned his wand and looked at Peri solemnly. Peri hoped that Jorgen agreed with him on some level but just couldn't express it. The giant star atop the seven foot tall, steel pole glows brightly.
POOF!
Peri coughed as the pixie dust cloud dissipates. He found himself seated before Jorgen's desk within his office overlooking all of Fairy World. The young fairy could still see the signs of damage and destruction brought forth by Dev and Irep's brief reign of terror. Not the first time Peri had been partially responsible for Fairy World's near annihilation. He shudders at the memory of his tantrums as a baby and toddler, when he lost Timmy, and at multiple points during Pasta Puberty.
Jorgen poofed two gigantic textbooks and a pair of reading glasses. He slid them over his nose and opened his own copy to the foreword. Peri mimicked the action, taking the time to lick his finger before turning the page. Jorgen looked at him with some amount of disgust when he did. "Alright, let us begin with the foreword to A Guidebook To Da Rules and Their Application, as written by me: Jorgen Von Strangle!"