Idris doesn't ask me at all about what happened at the house. Not when we spend time at an arcade. Not when we take a walk through the park. Not when we stop for ice cream. And not when we eventually do end up stopping at Tasting Symphony.

He doesn't pressure me to perform or anything, but I see him glance between me and the stage every once in a while. Especially when someone else is up there. And especially when they play an instrument and I absentmindedly make chord shapes on the table. Idris catches it every single time, and when I realize he's watching me, I flatten my hand on the table, the heat creeping up my neck.

"Is being on stage a sore subject for you?" he finally blurts when the waiter drops off our checks.

I glance at him as I reach for mine. "Yeah. A little bit."

"Why?" In a rush, he adds, "If you want to tell me."

I study Idris as I lay my card on the table with the bill. Curiosity consumes his expression, but I also know if I don't say anything, he won't keep asking. He's too sweet and respectful for that which only makes me want to tell him more.

I exhale, sitting back and crossing my arms over my chest. "It's just something I don't do anymore. And I find it annoying when I make that clear but people still try to make me perform."

Idris waits for the waiter to take our cards and checks before saying, "Like Lanh."

I scoff. "I guess like Lanh..." Which might mean Dad did base some of her personality off of me. "I think we might have different reasons, though."

The waiter comes back with our cards and a pen. Idris signs off on his receipt first. "What do you mean?"

I take the pen from him and sign my receipt. "I mean, Lanh doesn't like it when people try to make her do anything because she's sure that everything she's doing is the right thing to do and she doesn't want to doubt herself." I sit back, twirling the pen in my hands. "Choosing to talk to the fairy queen for advice instead of the dragon lord even though she was born in the ocean and not the highlands. Talking back to Hien's parents instead of showing deference for people older than her. Spending more time with Hien to make sure she's okay instead of attending to her responsibilities in the ocean." I set the pen on the table. "Really everything you're supposed to do when you're Vietnamese: help and protect each other." Which isn't exactly what I've been doing... I grit my teeth, staring down at the table. "I just don't like being told what to do because I'm stubborn, so I don't think I'm as much like Lanh as you think."

I don't want to look at Idris directly in case his expression tells me I'm being stupid, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him smile. "I think you are a lot like Lanh. Even if you say you're 'just stubborn,' I think you're there for people you care about no matter what."

I like to think I at least try to do that much, but I'm not so sure. Not that I say that aloud. I grab my copy of the receipt and stand. "Lanh's still cooler than I'll ever be, though."

Idris makes a face as he follows suit. "That's debatable."

I start to argue, but I pause when the door opens. The moment Idris sees his brother, I feel him tense. Roman straightens when he spots us, his eyes flickering between me and Idris. Compared to what I've seen of their parents, Roman seems pretty alright, but I don't think I can just overlook how tense Idris was when I first met Roman. Not to mention how tense he is now like he's waiting for something bad to happen. Hopefully, Roman won't make some sort of scene like his parents. Especially considering he's with other people also dressed in business casual. Probably from his internship.

Just in case, I give Roman a cold stare, hoping it's enough to keep his attention on me and not Idris. Even when I'm sure his eyes stay on me, I usher Idris out of the building. His brother keeps watching us, and I shoot him one last look before the door shuts.

I put a hand on Idris' arm. "Are you okay?"

He goes rigid at the question but nods, staring straight ahead. "I'm okay. It's not like we interacted with him."

"Hien doesn't have to interact with Hai for her day to be ruined."

The corner of his mouth turns up. It's not his usual, broad smile, but it lingers even when he looks at the ground, so I consider it a win. "No. Guess not." He clears his throat. "But speaking of Hien..."

I let him talk about Dad's series, but I have a feeling we're still talking about Idris. And me. Since we're apparently Lanh and Hien. But it seems easier for Idris to open up about his family while we're talking about The Quiet Nights series, so we stick to the books for the rest of the day.

"Hien definitely had it the worst out of the three main characters," Idris says when we start to head back to Grandpa's house in the waning sunlight. "I mean, Hai and Lanh went through a lot, too, but I think Hien struggled the most because she could never be enough for her parents. She always had to do one thing or another for them to think she was a good person and a good daughter. And even then, they still found something wrong with her."

I nod slowly. "My dad's told me—"

Idris laughs. Not in a mean way, but I playfully glare at and elbow him. He laughs harder, gently grabbing my arm, so I have to stop and look up at him. "Sorry. I'm not laughing because you're pulling the author's daughter card. I'm laughing because I still feel stupid about not knowing sooner." His eyes flicker across my face, and I swear his expression softens the longer he studies me. "Especially with your eyes. On the back of book jackets, your dad is always standing in the sunlight and it makes his eyes look amber. Your eyes are like that right now."

I tilt my head to the side. "Are they?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah. They are." His lips part, and his hand tightens on my arm like he needs me to anchor him. Just as quickly, he inhales and pulls his hand back, facing forward again. "So what were you saying?"

I blink. "Oh. Um..." I keep pace with Idris, tucking my hair behind my ear to give myself some time to remember what we were talking about. "I was saying that my dad told me he mostly based all three main characters on himself and what he was going through as a teenager. Hien because his dad didn't support him as a writer—"

Idris does a double-take. "Wait, really?"

I blink, pausing. Idris stops, too, his eyes wide. "You didn't know?"

"Not really. I knew something happened. I didn't think it was that."

"Oh..." Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But it's the truth, so whatever. "Well, yeah. My grandpa didn't support my dad when he said he wanted to be a writer. He thought it was stupid and a waste of time. He never even read my dad's works until after he was published and proved himself. Before then, he kept trying to convince my dad that he should've been something else. And when my dad wouldn't listen, my grandpa tried to control everything about his life like that would make him listen."

A crease forms between Idris' eyebrows. His lips part, revealing his gritted teeth as he shakes his head. "Really? Everett?" I nod. Idris keeps shaking his head. "I can't see it."

I shrug. "I guess he's trying to change. Waited to talk to my dad in person after my Bà Nội—Grandma—died." Recognition flickers in Idris' eyes, so I guess he was there for that. "That's why we're here for the summer. To get to know him and make amends or whatever."

"You don't sound happy about it."

I turn my head away, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's hard to be when my dad made his dad sound so awful my entire life. And now all of a sudden, I have to be here and get along with him even when my dad doesn't want to be here himself."

I huff, turning back to Idris. He's already looking back, his expression unreadable, but his eyes are a little darker than usual. Right... I've witnessed how his family treats him and I'm here complaining about Grandpa like he's directly hurt me instead of Dad.

"Sorry..." I say. "I don't mean to be complaining or anything..."

He offers me a smile. "It's okay. You've seen how fucked up my family is. Now I get to hear about how fucked up yours could be."

I smile at Idris. "Yeah... I guess..."

Idris' expression softens, and the setting sun makes his brown skin seem almost bronze. "So Hien makes a lot of sense now. What about Lanh and Hai?"

We start walking again, and I explain, "Well, Hai's character is supposed to represent how mad my dad was all the time because my grandpa was being unfair to him. Lanh was supposed to represent when he chose to be a writer and everything else was up to him and his abilities. He was stubborn and wanted to stick with it, but it was also scary for him to depend on himself and to know that every mistake he made was on him and no one else."

"Huh..." Idris lets that sink in. While he does, his eyebrows furrow in concentration. He pouts a little, and it sends a weird warmth straight down my spine. When he turns his head to smile at me, the warmth branches out to the rest of my body, making me shudder. "I didn't realize your dad projected so much in his writing."

I shrug, tearing my eyes away. The warmth dissipates almost instantly, but the tingling feeling lingers. "I don't think he realizes at first either. When I pointed out the similarities between Hien's relationship with her parents and his relationship with his dad, he looked really surprised. I guess it's a sort of unconscious therapy for him."

"That makes sense. But I guess that means none of the characters really have it the worst. They're just in different phases of a situation that sounds really awful."

And Idris is in one of those phases now. I just hope he never learns what it's like to be as angry as Hai. I don't even think I can see Idris angry about anything. He seems so sweet and caring all the time. Exactly like Hien.

"I can see why the characters and character dynamics feel so authentic now," Idris muses. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "It'll take me a while to accept that Everett was ever that unsupportive, though."

I swallow. "Right..."

Idris gently nudges me. "Are you still trying to give Everett a chance? I know you're Lanh and don't like it when people tell you what to do, but it has to count for something whenever Everett doesn't completely dismiss the fact that you used to perform."

I shrug, keeping my eyes on the flowers and plants we pass by. "I guess it's nice to know that he's changed and wants to be more supportive now, but I feel like it's just as irritating to have him be so... aggressive... about his support if it's something I don't want to do. Like how he told my dad that he was smart enough to be anything else besides a writer."

As we turn onto the walkway to Grandpa's house, I take note that Marlowe's car is parked in front of the house, but Mẹ and Dad's car is gone. I don't want to head inside and deal with Grandpa without both my parents around right now. Not after talking about all this with Idris. And if I happen to let any snide remarks slip, I know Marlowe will stare me down and make snide remarks right back.

When we step onto the porch, I don't make a move to head inside, so Idris hovers on the porch with me, nodding and adjusting his grip on his skateboard. "I think that makes sense, and I hope Everett finds the right balance of being supportive and letting go at some point. And even if Hien and Hai's parents are based on him, I feel like he's trying to be a better person and parent. I mean..." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Hien was always going to be a disappointment to her parents no matter what she tried to do. She was never enough." His voice cracks a little, and his eyes start to glisten. He continues to ramble anyway. "I guess Hai was going through the exact same thing, but the thing about Hien and Hai is Hien never takes out her anger on Hai. Hai is always taking his anger out on Hien. And Hien just takes it even though she has every right to fight back if she wants to. But she doesn't because she's too nice, and maybe she shouldn't be nice. Especially when the only person who knows that her parents and brother are hurting her is Lanh. But Lanh isn't around all the time, so Hien is just stuck."

He adds more, his voice filling with emotion as he goes. I'm a little surprised the tears aren't spilling down his face. When he finishes with a heavy exhale and his face darkens with frustration, I hold out my arms and ask, "Do you want a hug?"

Idris' eyebrows raise ever so slightly. When he gets over the surprise, he laughs, wiping the heel of his palms against his eyes. He sets his skateboard down and steps forward. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my ear to his chest. I feel his arms slide around my shoulders, and he rests his chin on my head.

We stay like this for a while, listening to the occasional crunch of gravel as a car drives by and the birds chirp overhead. I shut my eyes, zeroing in on his steady heartbeat and his warmth. Two things go through my head: Idris gives the best hugs and he has it rough at home.

"Thanks, Briar," he whispers.

I pull back enough to look up at him, but I keep my arms around his waist. "For what?"

He shrugs. "For being Lanh."

I shake my head. "I'm not—"

"Then, for being you."

I inhale, my lips parting. The words run through my head a couple of times, completely erasing everything else. I'm surprised I can find my voice so quickly, but I manage, whispering, "Thanks for being you, too."

He glances away, and I'm sure his skin darkens a little as he blushes. I don't tease him about it, though. Not this time. Not when I'm sure I was blushing a little, too. I let him collect himself, taking in the way the waning sunlight highlights his features. It makes his skin seem more than bronze. Almost gold. And when he turns to smile at me, it might as well be even brighter than the sun.

"Is it okay if I hang around here for a while longer?" he whispers like he doesn't want to break the atmosphere.

I smile and nod. "Of course, Idris."

He lets out a breath like he thought I would say no. "Thanks, Briar."

The relief in his voice breaks my heart—can your heart even break for someone you barely know? Whether my heart does break or not doesn't change the fact that Idris needs a friend. So I don't hesitate to pull him into another hug.

And he doesn't hesitate to hug me back.