Chapter Text
“Well, here we are!”
The voice of his Uber driver startles Dorian out of his daydreams and he looks out the window excitedly. The part of town he can see is just as picturesque as the town’s Instagram had shown it to be. He stuffs his notebook back into his bag and slides out of the car, ducking back in to grab the guitar case and make sure he didn’t leave anything else behind.
The older gentleman that drove him out here tugs his suitcase out of the back and sets it on the sidewalk.
Dorian loads the guitar onto his back and goes to take the handle of the other bag. “Thank you so much.”
“You sure you have a handle on that, son?” The driver looks uncertainly at the sidewalks and the lanky musician in front of him.
“I got it, thanks.” Dorian grits his teeth, but gives him a charming smile and with a tug, begins wheeling it towards the Twin Flames Bed & Breakfast. After fumbling a bit with the door, he manages to wiggle and tug his way inside with the suitcase, guitar and himself still intact. He sets his bags down on a chair in the front hall and absently tugs his hair up into a bun, looking at the framed pictures along the entryway, smiling slightly at the history and happiness documented there.
A scrabbling of feet and giggles and barks precedes the stampede that rounds the corner, as a pigtailed little girl chasing a beautiful irish setter carrying what looks to be a sandwich - or what’s left of a sandwich - crashes into him, sending him tumbling to the ground. The little girl and the dog both land on top of him and he instinctively wraps an arm around both, to make sure neither hits the hardwood floor under him.
“Hiya Mister!” The little one pipes up from the vicinity of his chest where he’s still trying to understand how he ended up on the bottom of a pile of dog and child.
“Hello?” Dorian replies, a little confused. The dog barks and slips out from under his arm, spinning in a circle and drops a slobbery half eaten sandwich on the floor next to him. Dorian makes a “yuck” face at the little girl and she giggles. He gets a knee to the stomach as she scrambles up too, Dorian sitting up with a soft grunt and making sure she’s steady beside him.
“Willow!” A husky voice comes from around the corner. “How many times do I gotta tell ya not to run in Miss Fy'ra’s house? You’re gonna get Ember all-”
An illegally attractive man, tanned skin and floppy brown hair, dressed in green plaid and mismatched socks appears around the corner and his sentence trails off at the sight before him and Dorian can feel a flush rising in his cheeks as he scrambles to stand.
“-riled up,” he finishes. Willow runs over and headbutts his knees, peeking back at Dorian shyly as the man in plaid leans down and picks her up. “Hey there, looks like you encountered the dual tornados, those two, I swear, nothing but trouble. Nothing hurt, I hope?”
Dorian shakes his head quickly, still a little speechless, before shaking himself and offering a hand out to the man he can now see is much shorter than his tall frame. “Dorian.”
The other man shifts the little girl to the other side and shakes his hand. “Orym. Nice to meet you.”
As Orym pulls back, he nods his head to the little girl still burying her head a little shyly in his neck. “And this one is Willow, if you hadn’t caught that. The dog, wherever she ended up, is Ember.”
Dorian leans down a bit and waves slightly at Willow when she peeks out, causing a peal of giggles and another burying of her head. Orym just grins and shakes his head before frowning slightly off into the distance in thought. “Dorian…that sounds familiar.”
Dorian feels his heart sink. Maybe he should have booked under a different name here, he was trying to get away from all of the recognition and press.
“Oh! You’re Fy'ra’s guest!” Orym says suddenly. “No wonder you’re standing there, looking at me like I’m the idiot.” He laughs again. “She’s in the kitchen, grabbing dessert out of the oven. In fact she’s probably wondering where we’ve gotten to. Follow me.”
Orym turns and walks around the corner and Dorian takes a moment to silently scream, checks his reflection in a picture frame quickly before following Orym through to the back of the house, under the watchful gaze of Willow over her father’s shoulder, ducking into the room after Orym, he’s suddenly aware of the wonderful smell becoming much stronger, cinnamon and sugar and apple and suddenly the protein bar he’d eaten for dinner is long forgotten. Silently, he wills his stomach to cooperate and not make more of a fool out of him in front of these new people. Dorian hovers in the doorway and watches Orym tuck Willow back into a chair with a booster seat at the cozy dining table.
“Fy'ra, I think your guest is here,” Orym calls over his shoulder dodging the pastel kid’s fork Willow had somehow gotten ahold of and was swinging around with airplane noises. “Hey kiddo, that’s for the pie, not me.”
Dorian tears his eyes away from the adorable sight of two of them and watches as a beautiful woman with fiery red hair and warm brown skin walks into the dining room, wearing an apron and carrying a pie.
“Oh hello! I didn’t hear you come in, sorry about that. Looks like my welcome crew took care of you though.” Her smile is wide as she sets the pie down and hands a knife to Orym before coming to stand by Dorian, hand out. “I’m Fy'ra, welcome to my B&B, you must be Dorian. Please come with me, I’m sure you’re exhausted after a long day of traveling. Let’s get you settled in.”
She sweeps Dorian back into the entryway, where she pulls out her reservation book and takes a look.
“Let’s see here, you are going to be up in the attic, which is much nicer than it sounds,” she winks at him before turning to get a ring of keys. “This key is for the front door and this is for the door on the right at the top of the stairs. The other door leads to my storage area, so you’re by yourself up there, unless I’m hunting for something. The little key on there is for the lock on the blue bike outside so you can get around town easier. We don’t really have car rental here and most folk bike, walk, or skate where they need to go, unless they’re hauling stuff, so you’ll be perfectly safe biking. Here is a map of the town, a list of emergency phone numbers for various circumstances, a list of community activities happening over the next month, and the proposed menu for the week. Please let me know if you have any dietary restrictions so I can accommodate you while you are here. Lunch is on your own but we do breakfast and dinner together, times are on the menu. If you’re going to not be able to make it, and would like me to save you a plate, just shoot me a text, darling.” She drops the keys and folder of information in his hands and looks to his bags. “Is that all you brought with you, dear?”
Dorian startles out of his wide eyed gaze at the flood of information and stumbles over his own feet to his pile. “Yeah, this is all I have.” He slings the bag and guitar on and grabs the handle of the suitcase.
Fy'ra looks at the guitar curiously for a moment before turning and heading through the doorway opposite the one leading to the dining room where he can hear happy screeches and low murmured replies floating through. They begin to head upstairs and he hefts his suitcase, thankful for the hours in the gym or this would have been impossible. Reaching the landing, Fy'ra unlocks the door with her master key and he follows her into the attic suite. He sets his suitcase down gratefully and looks around at the beautifully decorated room, thankful that for once, pictures on the internet weren’t a lie. When he looks back at Fy'ra, she’s got a curious look on her face.
“You’re stronger than you look,” is all she says, however, before pointing out the bathroom and explaining how to use the shower/tub combination and showing him where the extra towels are. “I’ll leave you to settle in. I just finished making a pie, you’re more than welcome to a slice if you’d like, just help yourself. The kitchen is yours to use unless I’m in there.” He nods, a little apprehensive and she laughs. “That was a joke, dear. Make yourself at home, just clean up after yourself. I would have saved you dinner, but I wasn’t sure what time you would arrive.”
Dorian unloads the bags from his back and crosses his arms. “Well, to be fair, I did arrive a little earlier in the day than expected.”
“Not to worry, feel free to explore the town - plenty of local cafés would love your business, I’m sure.” She slips out of the room and begins closing the door. “Holler if you need anything, dear.”
Dorian sits down on the bed and lets out a sigh, feeling the weight of all that happened today drop on him as he flops backwards onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. He’d given it all up today. From here on out it was just him. He blindly searches for his phone in his backpack and turns it back on. Twenty missed calls from him . Delightful. He swipes those notifications away and sees a text from Cyrus.
Proud of you
A warmth blooms in his chest as he opens the message and types a quick response.
thanks. made it safely
The typing bubbles appear almost immediately before:
good
The bubbles continue for a bit. Stop. Continue. And then:
i’ll handle things here. you figure you out wherever you are.
Dorian lets his phone fall beside him, feeling a little lighter. He scrambles for his notebook and begins scribbling down lyrics.