In the waiting room of the police station, Sao waited, alone.

Perhaps not literally alone, because Tinsel was sitting in a separate gathering of benches closer to the door, picking at her bandage under her retied scarf. The police had taken Saki to the city to be processed, with the majority of the news crews on their tail. Tinsel had not been invited along.

Rai would likely have offered her a ride to the station, if he knew she was headed there instead. But, thinking of the bruised throat he had been left with after whatever he’d said to Saki and Tinsel on the boat, Sao supposed he might not.

Her hair was pulled up in its onion-shaped topknot, and she was studying her hands. The self-possession she had managed to show in Happy’s room, of all places, was starting to wear out. It could have been his imagination. She kept sneaking looks in his direction, as if she had something to say. Once their eyes met and, unsmiling and almost guilty, they had just looked away.

Their separate solitudes were interrupted by the hiss of the glass doors opening and the sound of newcomers stomping snow off their boots, and cane. Sao took them in through the corner of his eye. One guest was a long-faced man in a tie and double-breasted coat, and the other a rather wild looking elderly man with a cane and huge tasseled scarf. They both carried briefcases.

They didn’t speak to each other, but walked side by side to the front desk. The man with the cane pounded it on the polished tile and demanded to see his client. The other man said something Sao couldn’t quite hear.

Soon enough, Ayer came striding down the hallway, looking restored to full size in his trademark traffic-cone coat, and very much in charge. The officer - more like an aide of his - even pulled a chair out for him. Ayer shook the elderly man’s hand heartily - and Sao noticed only four withered fingers gripping the cane.

“Mr. Campchurch, I wasn’t expecting you to get here so soon,” Ayer said. He couldn’t have missed Tinsel, who was straight ahead of him. “It’s a whole party in here.” He beamed even harder.

“Your father said you were threatening to take up a public defender,” growled the man with the cane. “What nonsense have you been up to this time?”

“Oh, man. Wait until you hear it.”

“Let me guess. Girl trouble again.”

Jin came sidling out and tried to catch the attention of the plain-looking man over Ayer’s enormous coat. Ayer and his counsel, engaged in some furious back-and-forth, didn’t give an inch. Not until Tinsel appeared beside them.

All four took a step back, in the sudden presence of royalty.

“Will you both be alright?” she asked in a very small voice.

Ayer twirled his fingers, as if pulling the veil from some grand invention. “This guy could get me off for murder. Not that what’s happened here is anything so serious.” Sao noticed he seemed to say it to assure her only, while the old man’s face pursed into into itself sourly.

“I spoke to the boy in the hospital,” the plain-looking man said in a voice almost softer than Tinsel’s. “It’s likely the charges there will lead anywhere.”

“Yeah. He messaged me,” Jin said. “Said he was relieved he wound up spending Valentine’s in hospital after knowing the meat was bad. Although, he thinks it was salmonella.”

“They’re letting you just contact anyone you want?” The old lawyer looked dubious.

Tinsel ignored him and grabbed Jin’s hands. “It’ll only get better when he knows the truth.”

There was a soft grumbling. At first, Sao thought it was the old lawyer or his client. But Tinsel’s face reddened.

“Have you eaten yet?” Jin asked, beating Ayer out by a second.

“I haven’t been too hungry. I’ll wait for you.” She spared a nod in Ayer’s direction and added, “Both of you.”

“You should come back later. This could take a while.” Jin dabbed at his face with an overlong sleeve. Tears or sweat? Or an excuse to pull his hand out of Tinsel’s? “We can call you. Right?”

“Of course,” Ayer said and, perhaps without thinking, slapped Jin on the shoulder. “If I get out first we can wait for this guy together.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” Tinsel was unable to stop smiling, her face was lowered but he could hear it in her voice, see it coming before she turned away from the counter. “I can wait a long time.”

When they were alone again, Sao found that he was smiling too.

Another cause to smile was Rai emerging from the hallway, fresh from the shower, just as the boys left with their respective guests. His hair was as wet as it had been when he was pulled from the river, and he had the same nonchalance about him. It had frightened Sao a little, that when Rai came out of the freezing water he had been lucid, and barely shivering. He’d tried to look pathetic under the tarp, but there had been something impervious about him, an air of the spectacular.

The shower had washed most of that off. And there was the set of replacement clothes provided by the station; a drooping black sweater that would have better fit Jin and sweatpants a size too small, with a police windbreaker. The loose neck of the hood revealed the pale length of his neck; the bruise Saki had given him was already healing, little more than a faint gray oval that could have just been a shadow. Over his arm hung a plastic bag holding the clothes still damp with river water, and his hand gripped Sao’s coat and his own bloated leather jacket.

Rai dropped the gray wool pile onto the back of Sao’s chair and inspected the leather jacket a little sadly, running his glowing fingers over the dulled skin. There was no sign of his gloves. “I can tell the leather’s not salvageable. I’ve had this thing for ten years. It even got me through that thing at Temperance.” He let his hand drop. “Did you see that guy with the cane?”

“Ayer’s lawyer, I gathered. An acquantaince of his father’s.”

“His name is Campchurch or something. He’s a cutthroat defender, famous for working with mobs. His house got blown up by some offshoots from the Azure Dragon army and he got three of them executed.” His lips curled into half a smile. “Ayer’s in good hands, I guess. Wonder who the hell his dad is.”

“After hearing that, I’d rather not know.” Sao stood. “I suppose we’re free to go now. A certain lady friend was asking about a late lunch.”

“Sure.” Rai fell into one of the hard chairs and failed to make himself comfortable. His spine was folded at a ninety degree angle. “Maybe I’ll catch a movie or something next door. They gotta be showing something other than rom-coms and nut movies, with Valentine’s over.”

“Nut movies?” Sao smiled. “We were hoping you would be joining us. She wanted to see you one last time.”

Rai stared up at him, eyes narrowed. His hair was still dripping, plastered over his face. “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Of course.”

A beat, and Rai shrugged himself out of his box of hard cushions. “Then I guess we’d better get going. Since the lunch is already late.”

Coats slung over arms, they strode toward the door. Towards the one guarding it. Absurd as it was, Sao was glad he wasn’t facing her alone.

“Look out for the ice,” she said. “The lawyers tracked a ton of it in.” She looked at them - at Sao, mostly - and her eyes were warm. Grass in the springtime, in sunlight. “You’re going to see your lady friend after all.”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I? I told you, all that business was–”

“A misunderstanding. So she didn’t cheat on her fiance for you? The dean?”

She had some gall, but he wasn’t alone, he could handle this. Sao leaned close to her, close enough to smell the blood on her skin, and to see it, rising to her cheeks. “Can you keep a secret?”

She nodded, rapidly. One hand hovering halfway to the door, Rai was unmoving. The world seemed frozen in time. Waiting for him.

The scent of blood in his airways, Sao indulged, just a little. “I like them both very much.”

Her sharp intake of breath was mirrored by Rai’s long-suffering exhalation. The world was ready to move on, past him. But then, he saw stars taking form in her eyes.

“You know,” Tinsel said, reaching for Sao’s hands (which he pulled out of reach just in time.) “I had an aunt in a similar situation. Her and her husband decided on an open relationship. Polyamory is getting more understood every year, it would solve so many problems, and it would be easy, especially for you guys, since you live in Mainline...”

Sao tucked his hands into the warm pouch formed by his coat and hoped, against better judgement, that those stars would never fade. “Goodbye, Tinsel. Good luck.”

—

The Atrium was closed pending an investigation (supposedly) by the hygiene department. They ate at a much smaller, grimier pizza house two blocks away. The brick ovens had the inside steaming from the heat, but the tables close to the open-front entryway were nearly crusted to the floor with frost. A pout from Skogul earned them a seat precisely in the middle of the room, where the air was just right.

“I’m surprised both of you like this kind of messy finger food,” Rai said, taking just the end off a slice of white cheese pizza.

Skogul dabbed sauce off her already tomato-red lips. “We both enjoy what we couldn’t have earlier in life, I think.”

“You’re right. The only junk food I can remember having a child was a square of chocolate, at best. And sugar in tea, if that counts.” Sao took another red slice and doused it with chili oil. “Call me a late bloomer.”

“Better late than never,” Skogul said. “I always wondered why the Atrium never served pizza. It seems like such a college-type food. Not that I ever went to college.”

Rai, sensing he was the odd one out there, nibbled his strip of crust quietly.

“I’d say I’d enjoy going back to school, but I’m just thinking of the parties.” She smiled. “Sao, I always thought you might want to start studying again. You’re a quick one. He likes to brand himself a sloth, but he gets his work done, doesn’t he?” That question was for Rai’s benefit.

“Maybe.” Rai finished up his crust. “I mean, he does pull his weight. Mostly.”

Sao pressed a hand against his chest, smearing oil on his shirt. “Please. No need to flatter me.”

“You could probably graduate with honors in something, but I don’t think you’d really like the experience. Look at what happened here.”

“Not all schools are like Murnau,” Skogul protested.

“One incident of cannibalism aside, Murnau’s not as wild as you think.”

“One incident that we know of.” Skogul defiantly laid her teeth into a piece of meatball.

“Remember, Sao. The hazing.” Rai held his glowing hands out in mock despair. “The raw chicken.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Skogul laughed. “Sao, just ignore us. School is a choice. You can always go back.”

Sao felt as if his lungs were turned to stone. Hadn’t Rai dropped the same line, the first day of their investigation? It was intended as reassurance, but it made him a little sick. Someone baring open gates of the past, for him, always felt like a threat. He’d always told himself to look back less; reduce his mental backtracking to the old schools and houses and forests. To hear some chasm of the past was open for him to fall into at any moment made him feel unstable on his own two feet.

“Or not,” she murmured.

“The raw liver on a string,” Rai warned.

Her red-stained napkin flew down. “Just what kind of school did you go to?”

While Rai explained the ways in which he had hazed himself for his own satisfaction, Sao let his gaze - and mind - roam. It was after lunch, but pizza could sustain a considerable crowd, even off-hours. Many were solo diners, crowding up the steaming counter seats where they had full view of the dough-handlers and the brick oven.

Sao blinked his dry eyes.

There was one diner, a man with long hair and a big tweed coat, eating a sort of oily truffle pizza. The coat hanging from his wiry frame made him look aged, even academic from the back, but from his face indicated he wasn’t much older than the average student. Every few minutes, he glanced at their table; that was why Sao noticed him.

He was familiar in a way that Sao couldn’t place his finger on.

The man made a show of finishing his pizza, getting ready to leave. Pretending to. He patted himself down, placed his sporty green cap on his head, then seemingly remembered his unfinished glass of white wine and put down his wallet, went for the cup.

Sao excused himself from the conversation (Rai was on the subject of waterboarding now) and approached the young man. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Oh, good. She said you looked through my pictures but I thought you’d forgotten,” said the man in an unfamiliar voice, but very familiar manner. “I didn’t want to intrude. So that awfulness from the news is all over, then.”

“More or less. We’ll be leaving tonight.”

“A shame about the Atrium. But it seemed a greater shame to end your visit without saying goodbye.” A pause, a wistful look at Rai.

“I’ll pass on the message,” Sao said. “Thank you for all your help. And sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

“Not at all, the whole thing wound up being rather fortunate. She’ll explain it better than I can.” He tried to take a sip of his drink but his movements were tense, made in small bursts. Like he wasn’t used to the length of his arms. His throat sounded strained. “Visit sometime, would you? It’s a little scary out here. We - I’ll always have an extra room.”

Sao smiled and the man went red, hands moving to his face to adjust glasses that did not fog up and were not there. “I’ll remember that. Take care of yourself.”

Only when he returned did Rai seem to realize he was ever gone. “Someone you know?”

“That’s the kid who lives near Marsh’s place,” Skogul said with just enough wonder to be convincing. “He shovels the snow sometimes. I didn’t think he went to Murnau. Although, that wouldn’t prevent him from eating at a local pizza place.”

“Yes. The rumors of adultery have officially spread beyond the campus.” Sao slid into his flimsy plastic chair. A mite more comfortable than the police station’s spread. “He was very understanding.”

“Understanding of the misunderstanding. How is Marsh, anyway?” Sao wondered how long Rai had been looking for an excuse to go treading into that topic.

Skogul knitted her fingers together and gave the briefest nod. Sao reached for the chili flakes to give himself time to think. “He messaged me briefly to say he had to attend an event out of town today. As I said, there was never a problem between us - it’s just too bad he couldn’t at least join in for some pizza. But he did ask us to drop by anytime we’re back in town.” Sao smiled. “You’re invited, of course.”

The relief was palpable both in front of him, and from the seat at the bar.

He made a mental tab to remind Marsh to hide the pictures of his old, long-haired self, if he or Rai were ever to return.

—

“Sharp. Marsh really was out of town this morning,” Skogul said. “He’s made a lot of new friends since the barbecue, oddly enough. A lot of well-wishers.”

“That’s good.”

“Being cheated on and kicking a floozy out of his house actually earned him some cachet here.” She pierced a clump of snow with a heel. “This place will never change, will it?”

Sao let his breath dissipate. They were in front of Eggers Hall. Rai was inside, picking a slushie for the road. “We should really clear things up, publicly. It’s…” he hesitated. “It’s not right for you to be remembered in that sort of light.”

“Are you kidding? This is my ticket out.” She smiled, but it was a small, cold thing. “We both agreed, a big noisy breakup is the best way to end things. Nice and clean, ironically enough. People here are so uptight they’re unlikely to poke him, and if they do, he gets to tell them the split was over everyone’s hostility towards me over such a misunderstanding. That you were a visiting cousin. All his idea - I was more than happy to be the villainous slut, but he wouldn’t sink that low. In any case, they won’t expect to see me back in town again soon.” She tucked a few loose strands into the collar of her coat. They escaped the very next time she moved. “If he wants to meet up again, well, he’ll have to come to me.”

“Ah. That is more your style.”

She smiled her deep red smile, this time in full.

Rai shoved his way out of one of the medieval doors with a pitch-black cup. “So do any of you know what voidberry is?” He paused at the sight of them, face to face, grinning like schoolchildren. “I should give you guys a moment.”

“No, no, I was just telling Sao I had to run. But you know he’s not the hugging kind.” She held out a hand. “You, though, get over here.”

Rai came down the steps almost suavely and managed to hold himself upright when she put one arm around his shoulder, crinkling the plastic windbreaker. “It was great to meet you,” she said, in a low croon that would have melted most men - most anyone, really. “You two did a good job. That barbecue - I never would have thought.”

With one hand on his bag of wet clothes and the other holding his slushie aloft, Rai was stuck with arms out like a scarecrow and couldn’t return the embrace. He seemed to be deep in thought. After deliberation he said, “No. You were good too.”

Sao saw Skogul go stiff. Braced, her fingers resembled bloodied talons.

“I mean, uh, you helped more than you think.” Rai wriggled backward, a rusty blush creeping onto his normally colorless complexion. “And it was nice to meet you too.”

A strong wind rustled the branches of the Row.

The tension melted from Skogul’s shoulders and, as if they were controlled by muscle, her hair slid free and began to fly, whipping the air. Her laugh was like a dance. “That’s a fine way of saying goodbye. It’s more like a hello.”

Rai pressed the back of his hand to his face; the neon blue did a good job of masking any redness. “I don’t really like goodbyes.”

“Who does?” Sao said. “I’ll take this one, then. Goodbye, Miss Skogul. Until we meet again.”

“I have no doubt we will.”

—

It was too early for the Row’s lightshow, but it had found color in a different fashion. Stuck in the branches and in the tangle of string lights were small flecks of yellow and gold. A handful of the stuff was scattered across the field all around them.

They walked down the Row, in the tunnel formed by the two colonnades of trunks, and the yellow dust became more plentiful. Rai picked one up. “Strong wind today. These are the flowers from Tinsel’s house.” The wind in question picked up, and he let the petal spiral into the air and out of sight. “The hospital hasn’t given any kind of update, like if anyone got infected with Triad’s disease. I hope no news is good news. But man, the things people do. I don’t know if any of them actually liked doing what they did but — anything to make a statement.”

“Grand gestures of love.”

“I always thought the big photo ops; proposals and staged kisses and one-month anniversary cakes and the like, were total bullshit. But now I’m thinking, maybe that lightweight junk is the lesser evil.” Rai crunched loudly through the fresh snow. “What Saki did for Tinsel really gets me - how things ended up - it was all a sacrifice, a literal crime against dozens, for nothing. Not for sex, reputation or material gain. Not even for appreciation from the one it was for. I don’t even know what to call that.”

“True love, or some such.”

“I’d say self-satisfaction, but I didn’t even get that from her.” Rai’s expression ahead of him must have been scathing. A pair of oncoming students saw him and changed their course, sidestepping like crabs until they were on the path outside the Row. “Revenge.”

“I suppose people like us don’t understand,” Sao said. “We’re just past the age of youthful passions.”

“Huh.”

“Well, perhaps it’s not so clear-cut. But I can’t say I feel like I’m missing out. There’s nothing wrong with being single. Lifelong bachelors - I like the sound of that, actually.”

They stopped as a cold wind swept down the tunnel, whipping the trees into a croaking, rustling frenzy. When the wind died, there was almost no yellow left in them.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably try again eventually,” Rai said.

“Try what?”

“Love. Dating, getting back into it. Going all in on someone, starting a family or moving in together or least adopting a pet. It’s not like I don’t have any time left. I actually have more time than most, considering the sleep schedule...”

Sao was glad Rai’s back was to him, because when he caught a hold of himself, he found his mouth was agape. He cautiously circled around to get a look at Rai’s face, checking for traces of a joke, of suppressed laughter. “I never had you down as the marriage and kids type.” He dared another step. “I can’t say you lack commitment, though.”

Rai began to walk again, his pace so fast there were no more satisfying crunches. His still-wet shoes kicked up the snow in small explosions. “I’m not thinking that far. Gotta get over the hump of actually finding someone to put up with me and I have a feeling that will involve a lot of trial and error. I’m not picky about them being a guy or girl, but that just means even more to filter through, right? I don’t really want to invest time there. Not right now.” His tone regained its usual gruffness. “I’ve got more important things to do. Work eats up all my time. At the moment, anyway.”

“When you make it big, then.” When he heard a scoff, Sao smiled and added. “When you decide it’s time to settle.”

“Yeah. I’d better hope the geriatrics’ home allows dating.”

They were almost at the end of the Row. The tunnel of trees fed them out to one of the paved paths, the one leading to the Alumni House. Beyond that was the sledding hill and the white plain of the sports field where Rai had first tried to tell him about his hazing self-experiments.

Rai stopped again and waited for him to catch up. “That girl friend of yours…”

“Girlfriend?” It was the odd enunciation that rewired the meaning. Sao looked up into the gray flatness above the walls. “Skogul?”

“No. The one you were best friends with as a kid. I was just thinking, if you were to ever reconnect, and you’re still into the lifelong bachelor thing, would you put in a good word for – ow.”

Sao un-wedged his elbow into Rai’s side and smiled. In a way, he thought, he should be thanking Rai. In that one moment he had dropped the whole gaudy setup into the realm of impossibility.

Rai pushed him back, only lightly. His expression was stiff but the crackle of his new windbreaker had, to Sao’s ears, the effect of laughter.