The illusion shattered as Whitney Brode's outburst finally drew to a close. The Brode's dining room was in shambles; the table was broken in a dozen places, the chairs had been blasted against the walls, and the decor lay in pieces all over the floor. Electrical burns and scorch marks marred nearly every inch of the floor, and some of the drapery still smouldered. Light shone through the windows, which looked out upon on an overcast sky and a rolling hillscape that lay beyond the gardens.

They were back, where all was real.

Sighing deeply, both Cobalt and Whitney collapsed onto the floor, their backs pressed against the floor as they stared at the scorched chandeliers.

"I'm a terrible person," Whitney murmured after much time had passed.

"No you're not," Cobalt responded, wincing as his stomach throbbed.

"Sir, I... I said such horrible things. Did horrible things."

"It wasn't your fault. You were outbursting."

"I used your own bad memories against you!"

"I know. And even so I forgive you."

Leaning up on her elbow, the Nymph stared at him for a moment. She looked about ready to cry, but the look in her eyes told him that she was far too exhausted to do so. Sitting up alongside her, Cobalt placed his back against Whitney's, providing the two demons with mutual support.

Whitney took a deep whiff of the ozone-scented air.

"I did all that, just to get back at my parents. And I dragged you into it," she murmured, wrapping her arms around her legs.

He shrugged as his gaze tracked the burns on the walls.

"I can't blame you. You just wanted to make everyone happy."

"And I failed at that, too."

"No, Whitney. You were the one who was failed."

Cobalt's tail flicked against her side.

"... You were right. I have been a hypocrite," he told her.

"Sir, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay, I understand. I've... not been very well as of late. You said it yourself; I've been saying one thing and doing another. Flipping from one thought to another, then back again. I've barely even been present in the moment, and I certainly haven't been taking you guys into consideration."

Lifting his hands, he clenched his muscles, ejecting the teeth from his flesh. It didn't hurt. Not anymore.

"The is that I don't know, but... I want to find out," he said, glancing back at Whitney.

"What?"

"The answer to your question."

"About whether you love-?"

"Yeah."

He raised his knees to his chin and hugged them tight.

"Whitney, I can't remember most of my younger years. Bits, pieces and general feelings, yeah, but the finer points are just blurs. I don't know if I have ever been in love before, and for the longest time I never gave it any thought. After I was told about Incupsychosis... The notion was just ejected from my mind. I didn't want to waste anyone's time, and even with Everlast, I feel like I still wouldn't be worth the trouble. I..."

Cobalt tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but failed.

"... I'm scared. I fear I couldn't live up to people's expectations of me," he sighed.

Whitney nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I get that. But you-"

"It doesn't matter what I'm told, Whitney. It's not a fear I'm going to conquer soon. Even if I wasn't a teacher, I still wouldn't be able to answer that question. Even with Jelli, Elya and Izzbelle telling me how they feel, I'm still too scared to answer, and I feel guilty for giving such a wishy-washy answer."

He planted his hands either side of him and shut his eyes.

"And if I'm being honest? Even if everything was in the right place - if you guys were graduated, and I wasn't such a coward - I just wouldn't be able to choose. And I wouldn't feel deserving."

Beside him, Cobalt felt Whitney's prosthesis graze his fingers.

"Love... It's not something I'm ready for in any capacity."

On his other side, her fingers touched his.

"... I'm sorry, sir," the Nymph whispered.

"You don't need to apologise."

"I kinda do. I stabbed you."

"It... wouldn't be the first time. Besides, I yelled some rather rude things at you, so..."

Whitney tried not to smile at that, but failed to keep a straight face.

"Heh..."

They both went silent again. From outside, the heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, but neither made any effort to move.

"Whitney?" Cobalt asked, craning his neck to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Your parents... they love you too."

She pulled a face.

"I'm serious. I know a thing or two about pushy parents. They're going about everything completely wrong, but their hearts are in the right place. Stand your ground. Stay the course as best you can. You'll be the musician you've always dreamed of being," Cobalt told her, doing his best to smile.

Lifting her prosthesis, the Nymph stared at it and clicked the hook a few times.

"Will I...?" she asked dejectedly.

"You will. I guarantee it," he replied.

The footsteps outside the dining room grew almost deafening as the ruined doors were booted open, revealing the rest of Whitney's family. Her parents' clothes were burned and Gulliver's shades were cracked, but aside from the sweat slicking their brows, they looked otherwise unharmed.

"Finally! I thought we'd be locked out all night!" gasped Juliet, wiping her brow.

"Really, barred out my own house. By my own daughter, no less!" Charles scoffed, folding his arms as he often did.

Gulliver immediately rushed to Cobalt and Whitney's aid, helping the pair to their feet.

"Are you guys okay?" Whitney asked him in a small voice.

"None the worse for wear, Miss Whitney. We had some trouble with that electrical barrier you erected, but as you can see, the situation is resolved."

"Electrical... barrier...?" she murmured.

"It was quite the sight. It encompassed the entire house, and even the gardens."

Cobalt swallowed hard, shivering at the thought of what would happen had he stepped into that void.

"Oh darling, your clothes are ruined!" Juliet sighed, scuttling over to her daughter.

"Best buy her new ones. Good riddance I say; hoodies aren't very becoming," her to-be-ex-husband retorted.

"Charles! Enough of that! I'll bring out my sewing machine and we can fix them up together!"

"Again with this spinster nonsense?! You know damn well that any Brode scion ought to be-!"

They were both cut off by a loud, purposeful cough. All eyes turned to Gulliver as he rose to his full height, his hands clasped politely behind his back.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" he asked, turning to face Juliet.

"Oh, um, of course. Granted," she answered.

Nodding, Gulliver carefully removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his breast pocket. His ears twitched as he smoothed down his waxed hair, before he stepped over to the two Brodes and slapped them both across the face. They recoiled backwards, each clutching their cheeks as they gawked at their butler, completely gobsmacked.

"Are you both really starting this again? After all the young miss has been through?" he hissed, glaring at them both with narrowed amber eyes.

Charles gasped.

"How dare you-!"

"You! Day in and day out, you're yammering in her ear about contracts and gigs and all kinds of things she wants no part in! Do you really think it's healthy for a young girl to hear her own father go on about that kind of thing every time she tries to spend time with him?!" the butler yelled.

Cobalt flinched as his voice peaked. He wasn't even aware that Gulliver was capable of such a volume.

Across from them, Juliet planted her hands on her hips and prepared to say something smug, but her loyal butler quickly snapped around and pointed her finger at her.

"And you! You are so desperate to keep your own dream alive that you never even stopped to ask whether Whitney shares it with you! I've seen how you look at her, and you just see a younger version of yourself!"

Teeth bared, Gulliver looked from one to the other.

"Whitney has been through absolute Hell! She lost an arm, for hellfire's sake, but all you two can think about is one-upping the other! You're both using your daughter - the joy of your damn life - as a weapon!"

The Brodes, possibly for the first time since Cobalt had met them, were rendered speechless. Stepping over to Whitney, Gulliver placed both hands upon her shoulders.

"Miss Whitney is a bright, talented young woman with a passion for the arts. Can't you both bury your egos for a few moments and just be happy for her?" he asked in a softer tone of voice.

Her parents glanced at one another. Their shoulders slumped as they sighed, before Charles approached Cobalt, a red handprint rapidly forming upon his cheek.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"... Mr. Trayer," he said, clearing his throat.

"Yes?" the Incubus responded.

He had never seen Mr. Brode look so uncertain.

"I... suppose I ought to thank you. For shielding us from the blast."

Cobalt nodded slowly.

"You're welcome."

"That being said, I imagine this dinner is quite over. So if you could please vacate from our home...?"

"Dad!" snapped Whitney as she hugged her mother.

"What?! This has become a personal moment, and-!"

Gulliver raised his hand.

"I shall escort Mr. Trayer home. Come along," he sighed, placing a hand on Cobalt's shoulder.

Leaving the family to reconcile, both the Incubus and the butler made their way out of the dining room and down the hall. The damage wasn't quite as severe, but it was obvious that the entire place would have to be refurbished.

"What happened in there?" asked Gulliver, opening doors for the Incubus as they stepped out into the snow.

Cobalt sighed and shrugged, almost slipping on the steps.

"A lot. She's going through a lot."

"I won't pry, then. She'll open up in her own time."

Opening the door to his car, Gulliver gave the Incubus a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Cobalt," he said.

"For what?" the Incubus responded, easing himself inside.

"Everything. Standing by her. Listening to her. Not giving up on her."

Cobalt swallowed hard.

"Whitney... she's strong. Stronger than me, I'd wager."

"Stronger than all of us, Mr. Trayer. She always has been. But now, I think she's finally beginning to see that for herself."

He shut the door and rounded the car, placing his sunglasses back on as he got into the driver's seat. Turning the key, Gulliver adjusted the mirror to face Cobalt.

"Where to, Mr. Trayer? Your mother's house, or back to the school?" he asked, his voice returning to its usual professional tone.

The Incubus glanced down at the bloody hole in the front of his shirt.

"Maybe swing by the hospital. Just to be safe."

-----

Whitney sat at her desk, staring hard at the photograph in her hands. It had slipped from Cobalt's pocket, the Incubus having stolen it from her bedroom earlier. She didn't mind, though. He had his reasons, he was sure. It was one of her favourites; the class photo taken just a few days after third year began. A small smile played across her lips as she ran her finger across its glossy surface.

Outside, she could hear a dozen workmen clamouring about the house, racing to repair all the damage that she had caused. She of course felt bad about having almost destroyed her parents' home, but in the grand scheme of things, some broken furniture and electrical burns weren't terribly difficult to deal with. At least her parents weren't giving her any trouble about her outburst. Both Cobalt and Gulliver had given them both much to chew on.

One thing was for certain, though; Whitney was not going to be spending the rest of her third year in her old bedroom. Regardless of what her family thought, she was going back to B.I.D. She would run away if she had to.

Tacking the photograph back to her bedframe, the Nymph dashed across her room and reached beneath her bed, fishing out a backpack with the hook of her prosthesis. As she began to pack it full of her belongings, her mind wandered to the words she and her teacher had traded throughout her outburst.

She... regretted saying a lot of it, but she couldn't deny that it had been wearing on her for quite some time. Even before her arm, before her parents' divorce, before Diate ever stepped foot on the B.I.D. campus, Whitney Brode had been harbouring all sorts of doubts and insecurities. The way Cobalt interacted with the other girls - intentionally or no - made it seem as though he had some sort of romantic interest in them, because she knew for a fact that they had an interest in him. She couldn't blame them, of course; he was an amazing guy.

She paused for a second as she jammed one of her favourite hoodies into her bag. She had to watch herself. It wouldn't do to follow suit.

Still... Was it right to just let all of her troubles loose on him like that? Whitney didn't have much control over how she behaved, but she still wished she went a little easier on him. Conjuring an illusion of Diate was certainly a dirty trick.

"Agh..." the Nymph breathed, collapsing onto her bed.

Her head hurt. All this thinking, doubting and regretting... Coupled with the incessant phantom pain, it was almost enough to drive her insane. Lifting her hand, she flexed her fingers a couple of times before raising her prosthesis, jerking her shoulder in order to click the hook a few times.

She had presented him with what she thought was the perfect versions of herself. Charming, beautiful and fashionable, or cunning, shrewd and rich. And the Incubus had denied both of them, choosing the real her instead. And even after all the arguments she made to the contrary, he kept insisting on her.

What did he mean by that...?"

"Agh," she guttered aloud, letting her arms flop by her side.

From day one, he had her back. She was a fool to think otherwise. Even though he was harsh, he let her finally break through the veneer of her family's expectations and break free. Cobalt was there every step of the way; saving her life from Devils, comforting her through her family troubles, and rescuing her at his own expense when she lost her arm.

Whitney couldn't deny that there was a dark part of her that believed that Cobalt was the way he was because he secretly lusted after his students. But after all that... she could put those fears to rest. Going through Hell and highwater to get Lottie and Quinn together, rescuing Izzbelle from their wedding, saving Jelli from her own despair...

There was a love there. A kind of love she couldn't quite put her finger on. A love that - that very day - he had shown her...

"Agh~!" Whitney cried, covering her face as she rolled back and forth.

She could feel her cheeks burning and her ears twitching. No, this was not the time to catch any feelings! He was her teacher for hellfire's sake! They were just friends - best friends, even - and Whitney was not going to confuse the poor man any further than heaping her emotions on top of the rest of them!

Besides, he had enough suitors! Izzbelle was hot and strong, Jelli was as cute as a button, and Karazelle was literally perfect! Even Elya had a strange charm to her!

Whitney glanced at herself in the mirror, looking as red as a beet.

And now she was getting flustered over the thought of her own friends! Her very, very, very attractive friends!

"AAAGH~!"

Toppling off the bed, Whitney began to root around for something - anything - to distract herself from having to confront those feelings. Spotting her guitar case leaning against the wall, she took a deep breath and stumbled over to it. She popped the clasps open and stared, feeling a lump form in her throat at the very sight of it.

The guitar was a gift from Gulliver, one of his old instruments from his days attending to her mother. Cradling the neck in her left hand, she swung her right over the body and tried to pluck a few experimental notes, only to remember that she didn't have fingers anymore.

Whitney sighed. Her dreams of stardom were really dead in the water, weren't they?

She stuck out her lip as she struck her hook against the strings. Strumming them all at once. The note she played sounded strange, but not entirely unpleasant.

...or were they?

Hearing a knock at the door, Whitney whipped around to see her mother looming in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself. The Nymph immediately tried to put the guitar away, but Julia just raised her hand, motioning for her to keep playing.

"That... sounds nice, dear," she said with a small smile.

"Um, yeah. Sure."

She shuffled over, allowing her mother to sit down next to her.

"So... that teacher of yours. He sure is something, isn't he?" she sighed, leaning back.

Whitney nodded as she tried playing another note. There was something about the sound of metal striking metal that played a harsher but more powerful note. Interesting.

"He's a good guy, Mommy. No matter what Daddy says."

"Oh, I know, dear. I've never seen an Incubus up close, but... what a man, am I right?"

"Mommy!"

Julia laughed softly.

"Sorry, sorry! He's still a little young for me. Though... a teacher for a stepfather would certainly be-"

"Please, stop!" Whitney cried, struggling to cover her ears.

"Alright, I'll stop!"

Taking a moment to settle down, Julia leaned over and wrapped an arm around her daughter. She shuffled over and leaned into the hug.

"I'm so sorry, dear. I had no idea I had been so..."

"It's okay, Mommy."

"I just wanted what was best, you know?"

"I know."

"Still... It's inexcusable and I-"

"Mommy. Really. It's okay."

From the doorway, the pair heard a cough, causing them both to look up. Charles stood in the hall, with his suit jacket tucked beneath his arm and his tie loosened considerably. He looked frazzled.

"Look, I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, but-" he began, stumbling over his words a little.

Whitney cut her off with a shake of her head, opening her other arm in order to invite him inside. Swallowing hard, Charles stepped into his daughter's bedroom, maneuvering himself around her guitar in order to sit next to her. With both arms around her parents, Whitney hugged them both tight.

She took a deep breath.

"We all need to talk," she said after a few moments.

They both nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. She took a deep breath prepared herself. Her nerves almost got the better of her, but as she replayed Cobalt's words over in her head, his calm voice stilled her worries.

"I want to be a musician."

Immedietely, her parents sighed.

"Whitney..." Julia began.

"We talked about this..." her father added.

"No," she interrupted, "you talked about it. We've never had a proper discussion about it. So let's have one, like, now."

The two Brodes glanced at each other.

"Alright. Give me your pitch," Charles said.

Whitney took another sharp breath. This wasn't quite as terrifying as she thought it would be.

"I know you think it's no way to make a living. But I really don't care about money. I- I never did. I want to do something that makes me happy," she began, ears quivering from nervousness.

She could practically feel their disapproval, but she kept going.

"We've fought about it so much, and I know you just want me to have a good job, but I don't see myself as following in either of your footsteps," she stated slowly, choosing her words carefully.

Charles' eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, but she rose a hand to silence him.

"They're kind offers, and I'm happy you care enough to offer them to me. But I can't choose either of them without... I don't know. Losing myself, I guess."

They both raised their eyebrows, but allowed her to continue.

"Music is what makes me happy. I know it's dumb, but it really does. I don't know how I could have made it this far without it. It's one of the few things that's kept me going, and one of the few things I truly enjoy. Sure, I doubt I can make much money off it, but like I said, I don't care about the money. I want to do something I love"

Charles looked as if he was going to argue with her, but Julia laid her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. With a sigh, he slumped down into his seat and wiped his brow.

"Whitney... I..."

He shook his head.

"No, I've been an ass. What kind of father stomps on his own child's dreams. Sweet hellfire..." he breathed, burying his face in his hands.

"Daddy..."

"I just don't want you to suffer, Whitney. The world is a cruel place, and I know I had a hard time finding work when I was younger. I just... I want you to be secure," he told her, holding her close.

Whitney nodded.

"I know, Daddy."

"Look, I won't try to dissuade you from this. Not anymore."

"Me neither," Julia added, joining in on the group hug.

"Just... maybe find a stable job before you launch headfirst into a music career? Just in case?" Charles added with a weak smile.

Looking into his eyes, Whitney returned a much stronger one.

"Of course, Daddy."

Wrapped in each other's arms, the three Brodes sat in silence, just enjoying this moment of tranquility after a long lifetime of arguments, heartbreak and crushed dreams. Julia and Charles both relaxed, and sandwiched between them, Whitney just felt that little bit warmer.

"I suppose I ought to reconsider my stance on the B.I.D. issue," her father sighed, his deep voice vibrating through the trio.

"Probably for the best," Julia replied.

"I just... that man, he's so infuriating!"

"Is he? Had a level head on his shoulders when I spoke with him."

"But-!"

"He just encouraged your daughter to be herself, Charles. You can't fault him for that. You should be proud of her."

"I... I suppose so."

Letting go, they both stood up and looked into each other's eyes.

"... We ought to have a talk as well, you know," Julia told him, smoothing out her dress.

Charles slowly nodded.

"Yes, that we do. Bourbon?"

"Let's keep it light."

"Chardonnay, then."

"That'll do."

Reaching over, they both took turns in planting a kiss on their daughter's forehead before they left the room, ready to hammer out their differences in the wake of all that had happened. Whitney didn't hold out much hope for her parent's marriage, but she was glad to at least see them willing to parley.

It was strange. A peaceful sensation had formed in her chest. She had never felt anything like that at home before.

As Whitney continued to idly strum her guitar, the shadow of Gulliver loomed in her door. She gave him a smile, one he soon returned as he pulled of his sunglasses.

"How is he?" she asked, cocking her head.

"He managed to patch himself up on the way to the hospital, but he stopped in for a checkup just in case. I must say, Miss Whitney; you have one Hell of a teacher," he replied, leaning against the door jamb.

She laughed.

"Not just a teacher. He's, like, my closest friend."

"Moreso than that Succubus girl?"

"H- Hey!"

He guffawed, almost smacking his head against the door frame. Wiping his eyes, he hunkered down by Whitney's bed, listening to her play for a moment.

"Hey. Thanks for changing their minds," Whitney said, nodding out the door.

Gulliver shook his head.

"I just finally lost my cool with them. It was Mr. Trayer who did all the work. I must say, I'm impressed he managed to survive your outburst; that was no small feat of magic. What went on in there?"

Whitney's smile faded as the memories came back to her. But she shook them from her head and smiled.

"I... don't really know for sure. He just didn't give up on me, I guess. Maybe that's all I needed to hear," she said, striking a chord.

It sounded good.

"Heh... that boy is really something, huh? Save your life, now this? You're a lucky girl," the butler teased, poking her shoulder.

Her face suddenly flushed red as she slapped his hand away.

"Gulliver!" Whitney scolded, unable to suppress her smile.

With a hearty chuckle, the butler ruffled her hair and stepped out the door. A grin still plastered across her face, she placed the guitar back in its case and gently placed it next to the rest of her luggage.

Throwing herself back onto the bed, she unpinned the photograph and held it high above her face. Her gaze flitted to each of her friend's faces, settling a little longer on each of them before she finally found herself staring at Cobalt.

She owed him a lot. No matter how much her doubts tore at her, and no matter how much she tried to shake his conviction, he stuck fast by her side.

Whitney wasn't second best to anyone. She never was. She was a girl with a lofty dream, one that was worth chasing. Thanks to that Incubus, she finally gained the confidence to stand in defiance of her parents and get them to see the errors of her ways. It had always been in her power. But now she could see clearly, even after everything that had happened to her.

"I think..." she mumbled, gazing into those deep amber eyes of his.

Holding the picture in her prosthesis hook, she gently traced a heart around Cobalt's face, only to immediately toss the photo away as her cheeks burned bright.

"... I- I think I've spent too much time around Whoretits...!"