Three days into their life at Casa de Chaos, Riot appeared in their doorway with a mischievous grin and a small baggie.
"Community bonding time," she announced, waving the bag. "Courtesy of my very generous employer at the head shop who believes in supporting local youth initiatives."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Ink laughed from behind her, carrying what appeared to be every cushion and blanket in the building.
Within minutes, their room had been transformed into a cozy den of mismatched pillows and stolen comfort. Akira materialized with snacks that defied both logic and nutritional science.
"I present to you," she said dramatically, "grocery store sushi that expires today, day-old donuts from Pike Place, and whatever this is." She held up a bag of something that might have once been chips.
"You're like a reverse food fairy," Venus giggled, already looking more relaxed than she had since leaving Maplewood.
"I prefer 'discount sustenance goddess,' thank you very much."
As the joint made its way around their circle, the room filled with lazy laughter and the kind of deep conversations that only happen when inhibitions are lowered and time feels infinite.
"Okay, serious question," Chelsea said, sprawled across a pile of cushions next to Tara, who was methodically organizing the snacks by color. "If you could have any superpower, but it had to be completely useless, what would it be?"
"The ability to know exactly how many jellybeans are in any jar," Anthony said immediately. "But only jellybeans. Not other candies."
"That's... weirdly specific," Kate laughed, her usual gentle demeanor enhanced by a dreamy quality. She was absently braiding Anthony's hair, and he was letting her, which would have been unthinkable a week ago.
"I'd want to speak to houseplants," Venus declared. "Like, imagine the gossip they must have."
"Your ficus has been judging your lifestyle choices," Jon said in a deadpan voice that sent everyone into fits of giggles.
Jon, who'd been unusually quiet, was studying Charlie's face with the intense focus that only came with being very high. "Your piercings are crooked," he announced.
"What?" Charlie touched his lip ring self-consciously.
"Not that one. But like, you could have dimple piercings. You've got perfect dimples when you actually smile."
"Which is never," Chelsea teased.
"I smile!" Charlie protested, then proved her point by barely cracking a grin.
"See? There they are!" Jon pointed triumphantly. "Perfect little dimples. We should pierce them."
"We should absolutely not—" Tara started, but Charlie was already looking intrigued.
"I've got the stuff," he said slowly. "Needles, jewelry, all sterile. I was going to do my eyebrow next week anyway."
"This is a terrible idea," Riot said cheerfully. "I love it."
"Wait, you actually want to?" Jon asked, suddenly less confident now that Charlie was considering it.
Charlie shrugged, but there was something softer in his expression. "Why not? If I'm going to reinvent myself, might as well go all the way. Besides..." He paused, looking directly at Jon. "I trust you."
The room went quiet for a moment, everyone sensing the weight of those three words.
"Okay," Jon said finally. "But we're doing this right. Clean everything twice, mark the spots carefully, and if you change your mind at any point—"
"I won't."
Twenty minutes later, they'd set up an impromptu piercing station with all the ceremony of a medical procedure performed by very stoned teenagers. Charlie lay back on the cushions while Jon knelt beside him, both of them taking this surprisingly seriously despite their altered state.
"You sure about this?" Jon asked one more time, needle poised above Charlie's left dimple.
"Do it," Charlie said, and for the first time since Jon had known him, he was genuinely smiling.
The piercing itself was quick—Jon's hands were steadier than anyone expected. Charlie barely flinched, too focused on the feeling of Jon's fingers gentle against his face.
"One down," Charlie murmured, Jon inserting the jewelry with careful precision. "Still good?"
Charlie nodded, not trusting his voice. There was something about the intimacy of the moment—Jon's complete focus, the gentle way he touched Charlie's face, the quiet pride in his eyes when the first piercing was perfect.
The second one went just as smoothly. When Jon sat back to admire his work, Charlie caught his wrist.
"How do they look?" Charlie asked.
"Perfect," Jon said softly, and neither of them was talking about the piercings anymore.
"Oh my god, get a room," Chelsea called out, but she was grinning. "Actually, don't. This is your room and we're all in it."
The spell broken, everyone crowded around to admire Jon's handiwork. The piercings did look perfect—small silver studs that caught the light when Charlie smiled, which he was doing more than anyone had ever seen.
"You look like a completely different person," Kate said wonderingly.
"Good different or serial killer different?" Charlie asked.
"Definitely good different," Anthony said. "Like, if I saw you at a show now, I'd be intimidated in a good way instead of worried you were going to cry in the bathroom."
"I only cried in the bathroom twice!"
"That we know of," Venus added helpfully.
As the night wore on, they found themselves in increasingly ridiculous conversations. Akira tried to convince them that pigeons were actually government surveillance drones ("Think about it—when was the last time you saw a baby pigeon?"). Tara, normally the voice of reason, became convinced that they should start a commune based entirely on collaborative playlist curation. Kate and Anthony debated whether plants had feelings, which somehow turned into Anthony admitting he'd named all the succulents in his old bedroom.
"You named your plants?" Chelsea asked.
"Succulent Steve, Aloe-vera Wang, and Prickly Pete," Anthony recited solemnly.
"Those are terrible names," Charlie laughed.
"You try coming up with good names when you're eight and your dad's screaming at the TV!"
The casual mention of his home life sobered them all for a moment, but Kate squeezed his hand and the moment passed.
"I had a goldfish named Chairman Meow," she offered. "I was very confused about species."
"That's still better than my pet hermit crab, Crabitha Christie," Riot called from where she was attempting to build a fort out of cushions.
By the time the high started to fade, they were all lying in a comfortable pile, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. Charlie found himself next to Jon again, close enough to see how the new piercings caught the dim light.
"Thanks," Charlie said quietly.
"For what?"
"All of it. The piercings, yeah, but... I don't know. For seeing something in me worth decorating, I guess."
Charlie felt something warm unfurl in his chest. "Jon?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm really glad we ran away."
"Even though we're homeless and probably in trouble with every law enforcement agency in Washington?"
"Especially because of that."
Jon laughed—a real laugh, not his usual bitter chuckle—and Charlie decided that might be his new favorite sound.
Across the room, Kate had fallen asleep with her head on Anthony's shoulder, and he was staring at the ceiling like he was trying to memorize the water stains. For the first time in years, he looked peaceful.
"We're going to be okay," Tara said suddenly, her usual anxiety replaced by chemically-enhanced optimism. "All of us. We're going to figure this out."
"Yeah," Chelsea agreed, speaking for all of them. "We are."
Outside, Seattle hummed its urban lullaby, but inside Casa de Chaos, seven teenagers had found something they'd never had before: a place where they could be completely themselves, piercings and plant names and all.