Beneath The Ashes - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

The next morning, the house was quiet. Or at least, as quiet as a mansion full of five Vitalo brothers could get.
I stretched with a yawn, the events of yesterday still warming my heart. My closet was now overflowing with clothes I could've only dreamed of owning, and the new phone Vale got me sat proudly on my nightstand. It still didn't feel real.
Padding downstairs, I found everyone already at the breakfast table. Massimo sat at the head, as usual, sipping coffee while reading something on his phone. Zayn was loudly recounting yesterday's shopping trip, exaggerating the parts where he "heroically" helped me pick out clothes, much to Massimo's irritation. Jaxon snorted into his coffee while Vale poked at his food, barely awake.
And then there was Declan.
He sat quietly, slowly cutting into his eggs. His gaze swept over the table, sharp and observant, taking in everyone's conversations without ever needing to say a word. He looked calm. Controlled. Untouchable.
But I remembered his promise.
I've told him we will have "interesting chat" with me — a proper one — and he hadn't outright refused. That counted for something. Right?
I finished my breakfast and wiped my hands on my napkin.
"Come on."
Declan blinked up at me. "What?"
I grabbed his hand, tugging gently. "You promised me a session, remember? Time to follow through."
He frowned. "I promised??."
"You didn't say no." I grinned. "That's basically the same thing."
Zayn cackled into his coffee while Jaxon muttered, "Poor guy never stood a chance."
Declan sighed but stood, letting me pull him along. As we left the dining room, I heard Massimo's voice behind us, dry and amused. "Good luck, Declan."
We stepped into the backyard, the morning sun casting a soft golden glow over the grass. The garden stretched out before us — perfectly manicured hedges, a sparkling fountain, and a massive oak tree near the back. I led him over to the tree, plopping down on the grass and patting the spot beside me.
Declan hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, he sank down next to me, resting his back against the tree trunk. His long legs stretched out in front of him, his usual calm expression firmly in place.
"So..." I glanced at him. "Wanna talk?"
"No."
I grinned. "Excellent start."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The breeze rustled the leaves, birds chirped in the distance, and I let the silence settle. Then I took a deep breath and began.
"Okay, I'll go first." I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them. "You know I lived with my mom and stepfather. But what I didn't mention is that I worked part-time at a little café nearby. It wasn't glamorous, but it was cozy. I liked the smell of coffee in the mornings, and the regulars were always sweet." I smiled at the memory. "There was this one old man who came in every day like clockwork. He always ordered the same thing — black coffee, no sugar, no cream — and he'd sit by the window, reading his newspaper. But everytime, he'd slip me candies when no one was looking."
Declan listened quietly
"It wasn't much, but it gave me a little peace. A little happiness." I tilted my head toward him. "What about you? Got any favorite places?"
He shook his head. "No."
"No?" I raised an eyebrow. "No favorite hangout spots? No cafés? No secret hideaways?"
"No."
"Huh." I considered him for a moment. "Okay. What about snacks? Everyone has a favorite snack."
Declan frowned. "I don't know."
My jaw dropped. "You don't know?"
"I never really... explored." His voice was quiet, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.
I gasped dramatically. "Well, that settles it. We're going to the kitchen."
He blinked. "What?"
"Come on." I jumped to my feet, grabbing his hand and tugging him up. "We're trying every snack I can think of. I'm not stopping until you find one you love."
Before he could protest, I dragged him toward the house.
Declan followed me into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with reluctance. The moment we stepped inside, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway like he was already planning his escape.
"This isn't going to work," he muttered, scanning the pristine countertops like they might attack him.
"Oh, ye of little faith," I teased, rolling up my sleeves. "You just haven't had the right snacks yet."
Declan arched a brow. "It's not that deep. Food is food."
I gasped, clutching my chest dramatically. "Food is food? No, no, no, Declan. Food is an experience. A love language." I turned toward the pantry with a determined glare. "Challenge accepted."
He sighed, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Progress.
As I rummaged through the endless supplies, I started gathering ingredients like I was preparing for battle. Bread, cheese, tortillas, chips, sauces... everything I could find that screamed snack.
"Okay," I announced, placing the ingredients on the counter. "First up, the holy grail of quick snacks — nachos."
Declan perched on a stool at the island, arms still crossed. "Nachos are just chips with stuff on them."
"Blasphemy." I narrowed my eyes at him, layering chips with cheese, jalapeños, and salsa before shoving the plate into the microwave. "Just wait."
As the microwave hummed, I turned to him with a grin. "Since we're experimenting, I'll entertain you with stories from my café days."
His expression didn't change, but I saw the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
"So," I began, leaning against the counter, "there was this one time a customer ordered a caramel macchiato but insisted on no caramel."
Declan frowned. "That... defeats the purpose."
"Exactly! I asked if she wanted just a macchiato, but nooo. She insisted I make a 'caramel macchiato with no caramel.' I ended up giving her a plain latte. She took one sip, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, 'This tastes nothing like a caramel macchiato.'"
Declan's lips twitched again, and I almost cheered.
The microwave dinged, and I placed the nachos in front of him, sliding a fork his way. He stared at the plate like it had personally offended him before taking a tentative bite.
"Well?" I asked, leaning forward.
He chewed slowly, then shrugged. "It's... okay."
I gasped. "Just okay?!"
"Maybe a little messy."
I groaned, already grabbing more ingredients. "Fine. Next up — grilled cheese."
As I grilled the sandwiches, I kept the stories coming. I told him about the time I accidentally knocked over an entire tray of drinks onto my boss. Or the day a cat somehow wandered into the café and caused a full-blown panic.
"And then," I said, flipping the sandwich, "the cat jumped on the espresso machine and pressed the steam wand. The scream my coworker let out could've shattered glass."
Declan chuckled. A soft, barely-there sound, but it made my heart soar.
One by one, he tried everything I made — mozzarella sticks, mini tacos — and each time, his response was either "It's fine" or "Not bad." I was starting to think he might actually be part robot.
Finally, I pulled out my secret weapon: what I call them is loaded potato shells. Crispy potato shells, melted cheese, crispy bacon bits, and a dollop of sour cream on top. I slid the plate in front of him with a flourish.
"This," I declared, "is my masterpiece."
Declan eyed the potato skins, then slowly picked one up and took a bite. His chewing slowed. His eyes widened, just a fraction, and for the first time since we started this little snack marathon, he nodded.
"This..." He took another bite. "This is good."
Victory.
"Yes!" I fist-pumped the air. "Potato shells for the win!"
Declan shook his head, but there was a softness to his gaze now. As he reached for another one, I leaned on the counter, watching him closely.
"You know," I said quietly, "at first, you didn't know what you liked because you never explored. But that's kind of how expressing yourself works too."
He paused, potato halfway to his mouth.
"You never know the relief of letting things out until you stop keeping them inside." I gave him a soft smile. "Expressing is a lot like what we did today, you know trying snacks. It might feel weird at first, but once you find something that clicks... it gets easier."
Declan stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he set the food down.
"You're... kind of crazily convincing, you know that?" His voice was low, almost soft. "But the thing is... you never pushed me. Everyone else keeps asking questions. Trying to pry things out of me." His gaze softened. "You just... spent time with me."
I blinked, taken aback by the honesty in his words. "Well... everyone needs a friend." I gave him a bright smile. "Even the quiet ones."
For a long moment, Declan just looked at me. Then, ever so slightly, he nodded.
——————————————
Third-Person POV
Zayn was on his way to the kitchen, drawn by the faint clattering of utensils and the soft hum of voices. At first, he figured Ivy was just rummaging around, but as he got closer, the sound of her bright laughter made him pause. Carefully, he peeked inside.
What he saw made him freeze.
Declan was sitting at the kitchen island, eating. Eating with Ivy. The Declan was calmly perched on a stool, quietly sampling snacks while Ivy flitted around the kitchen, chatting away like they'd known each other forever.
Zayn's brows shot up. "Huh."
He turned back toward the hallway and spotted Massimo passing by. "Psst. Mass."
Massimo arched a brow but stepped closer. "What?"
Zayn gestured toward the kitchen door. "You have to see this."
Massimo frowned but humored him, leaning in to peer inside. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Declan at the counter. "What the hell..."
They heard footsteps, and Zayn quickly waved Jaxon and Vale over before they could head toward the garage.
Jaxon scowled. "What now?"
"Shh." Zayn pressed a finger to his lips. "Just... watch."
Jaxon opened his mouth to argue, but then he caught sight of Declan at the island. His brows furrowed. "Is that Declan?"
"Yup." Zayn folded his arms, grinning. "And Ivy."
Vale tilted his head, curious. "Wait. What's going on?"
"Let's find out." Zayn gestured for them to stay quiet, and they all leaned in.
Inside the kitchen, Ivy slid a plate of nachos in front of Declan. "First up — the holy grail of snacks."
"Nachos are just chips with stuff on them," Declan deadpanned.
"Blasphemy," Ivy gasped, making Zayn bite back a laugh.
As Declan slowly chewed the nachos, Vale arched a brow. "He's actually eating."
Massimo watched intently. "More like she's getting him to engage."
Zayn smirked. "That's not the weirdest part. Just wait."
They stayed quiet, observing as Ivy whipped up snack after snack. Each time she set a new dish in front of Declan, she filled the air with stories from her café days.
"She talks a lot," Jaxon muttered, though his voice lacked bite.
Zayn elbowed him. "Yeah, but listen."
They did.
"And then the cat jumped on the espresso machine," Ivy was saying, "and pressed the steam wand. I swear the scream my coworker let out could've shattered glass."
There it was. Declan chuckled. It was soft and almost hidden, but they all heard it.
Massimo stiffened slightly. "He laughed."
"No shit," Vale whispered, eyes wide. "I didn't know he could do that."
Zayn squinted, leaning closer. "Wait... Café? What café?"
Massimo's expression darkened slightly. "She worked part-time at a café when she was living with them." His jaw tightened. "I checked her files."
Zayn frowned. "Wait, what? You're telling me she lived with those assholes and held down a job?"
Massimo nodded.
Zayn's gaze snapped back to Ivy, who was currently telling another ridiculous story while Declan slowly sampled a plate of mozzarella sticks. "Jesus. She never said anything about that."
"She doesn't say a lot about herself," Massimo muttered. "But she's tougher than she looks."
They watched as Ivy placed yet another plate in front of Declan, this time filled with loaded potato skins. Declan hesitated, then took a bite. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded.
"This... This is good."
Zayn's jaw almost hit the floor. "Did Declan just compliment food?"
Jaxon looked vaguely concerned. "Are we in an alternate reality?"
"Shut up," Massimo muttered, his gaze locked on Declan.
Then came the moment none of them expected.
"You know," Ivy said softly, "at first, you didn't know what you liked because you never explored. But that's kind of how expressing yourself works too."
The brothers stilled.
"You never know the relief of letting things out until you stop keeping them inside." Ivy smiled gently. "Expressing is a lot like trying snacks. It might feel weird at first, but once you find something that clicks... it gets easier."
Declan didn't move. The air shifted, and even from the doorway, the brothers could feel it. When Declan finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"You're... kind of crazily convincing, you know that?" His fingers traced the rim of his glass. "But the thing is... you never pushed me. Everyone else keeps asking questions. Trying to pry things out of me." His gaze softened. "You just... spent time with me."
Zayn's heart clenched unexpectedly. He exchanged a glance with Massimo, who looked equally thrown. Jaxon shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck, while Vale just stared, eyes flickering between Ivy and Declan.
"She's not trying to fix him," Vale murmured, almost to himself. "She's just... there."
Massimo's jaw tightened. "She's different."
Vale snorted quietly. "No kidding."
They watched as Ivy beamed at Declan, practically glowing. "Well... everyone needs a friend. Even the quiet ones."
Declan hesitated, then nodded.
The brothers stood in stunned silence.
After a long moment, Jaxon shook his head. "Okay, I've seen enough." He turned on his heel. "I'm not spending my morning eavesdropping."
Massimo didn't move. Neither did Vale.
"Let him go," Zayn whispered, grinning. "He's just mad because Ivy is more persuasive than him."
Jaxon flipped him off over his shoulder.
As they headed toward the garage, Massimo glanced back one last time. Ivy was still smiling, her eyes bright and full of warmth. Declan sat quietly beside her, a half-eaten potato shell in his hand.
Massimo's chest tightened.
She really was sunshine.