Between Shadows and Stardust

Chapter 1

**Title: Old Flames, New Loves**

**Author: Ting Jiu**

The sun shone down gently, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of Avalon Vale. Edmund Hawthorne had always believed he had a flaw: once he got his hands on something, he would cling to it tightly, unwilling to let go. Even in love, he often found himself lying to himself. Knowing that the person he cared for had a special someone in their heart, he could only convince himself that while he might not be the most important, at least he was there beside them.

But then that special someone returned unexpectedly, throwing Edmund’s life into chaos. He realized that he was on the verge of losing even his fallback position in this messy love triangle. Finally, Edmund gathered his resolve and decided to put an end to the unstable situation.

Just as he thought he was ready to walk away, the special someone grasped his hand and asked softly, "What do you think of me? Shouldn’t you at least consider it?"

Edmund gasped, staring wide-eyed at the man in front of him, Alaric Montague, who bore a striking resemblance to someone he once knew—a resemblance that terrified him. “Mr. Montague,” he stuttered, “I think you… might be a little full of yourself.”

---

Edmund Hawthorne had always been a man of routine and predictability. His days were filled with planning exhibitions at The Enchanted Gallery and hosting events at The Golden Griffin Tavern. However, his heart had a different kind of chaos swirling within it. His friends—Gideon Larkspur, Elena Fairchild, and Roberts Mallory—often teased him for being so caught up in his feelings, yet supported him through every high and low.

The start of this love triangle began when Alaric, a charismatic and confident art dealer, walked into Edmund's life. Alaric was captivating, and from the moment they first met during a gallery showcase, Edmund was drawn to him. But lurking in the background was the specter of Alaric's past love—someone who always held a special place in his heart.

Edmund had tried to convince himself that maybe being a consolation prize wouldn’t be so bad. After all, he got to be close to Alaric, and the moments they shared were precious. However, when Alaric’s first love returned to Avalon Vale, the precarious balance of their relationship threatened to collapse.

Now, caught between his feelings and the reality that he might just be a placeholder, Edmund felt his heart race. With each passing day, the tension grew, and he knew he couldn’t continue living in a state of uncertainty. When Alaric reached out, asking for Edmund’s thoughts, it was as if his heart leaped into his throat.

The words slipped out before he could catch them. “Are you really serious?”

Alaric smiled, the kind of confident smile that made Edmund’s heart flutter and his head spin. “Of course. You’re the one I want to be with.”

Yet, feeling daring, Edmund challenged Alaric’s declaration. “So, what? You think I’m just okay with being your backup?” His voice was harsher than intended, but the defensiveness bubbled to the surface.

“No," Alaric replied earnestly. "I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

The authenticity in Alaric’s eyes made Edmund's defenses crumble. Perhaps he wasn’t just the stand-in. Perhaps he could be… something more.

In that moment, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, something shifted between them. It wasn’t just a mere romantic tension; it was a realization that they were both terrified of what it meant to truly love and be loved in return.

As they stood there, the noise of Avalon Vale faded away into the background, leaving just the two of them, grappling with feelings that could either bind them together forever or tear them apart.

**End of Chapter**

Chapter 2

Edmund Hawthorne always felt that his name was particularly awkward.

He had been named by his Grandmother Agnes at birth. It was said that the year he was born, a rare blizzard swept through, with snow so thick that when adults stepped into it, it would cover their calves. It was in such icy conditions that Edmund Hawthorne came into this world, adding a layer of desolation to an already unwelcoming home.

His mother was not interested in raising him; eventually, it was his Grandmother Agnes who took pity on him. Thinking of the end of the year, she chose his name, altering the last character out of a desire to be thoughtful by changing "end" to "obscure."

Edmund still wasn't sure whether Grandmother Agnes was genuinely caring or if the "obscure" element of his name was meant to reflect a sentiment of rejection.

What bothered him most was that he was technically born before the Spring Festival, and according to the Gregorian calendar, his birthday fell in early January. For young people, this should be considered the start of the year. Each time someone asked, he had to spend a few moments explaining, which was beyond awkward.

But whatever—he had plenty of other embarrassing moments in his life.

Like right now.

At the moment, Edmund had his cheeks stuffed with meat, choking slightly, with a cup of cola just within reach. His hand hovered indecisively. Should he grab it or not? He ended up leaving it hanging in the air.

Gideon Larkspur's expression was subtly suggestive; he was practically winking at Edmund, on the verge of standing up and shouting, “You dare to disturb the peace!”

Edmund knew he needed to get out of there quickly, but he was internally irritated. It was just an ex-lover making an appearance—was it that serious? Why the rush to push the new interest aside?

On second thought, it wasn't entirely unwarranted. His so-called new interest was at least half-hearted. Deciding to swallow the whole chunk of meat he was choking on, he hastily wiped his mouth with a napkin, nodded at the two people across from him, and stood up to leave.

Just as he took a few steps away, he heard Gideon’s voice mockingly coming from behind him: “Is that you, Mingyuan? Long time no see! Hope you’ve been well.”

Edmund rolled his eyes internally at Gideon’s attempt to sound sophisticated; if he were really so well-spoken, he wouldn’t be stuttering.

The person talking to Gideon, however, appeared much more composed. The voice was calm and measured as he commented, “It’s been good. That's your little friend. Why did you send him off?”

“Oh, he just dropped some food on himself and needed to go clean up,” Gideon lied smoothly, splattering dirt all over Edmund with a casual flick of his wrist.

You’re the one who can’t handle your food, not me! Edmund silently scoffed, shooting Gideon a glare over his shoulder.

In that moment, he caught sight of Alaric Montague.

Alaric was dressed in a stylish gray sweater and fitted dark trousers, looking sharp and sophisticated. He had a smile in his eyes, and when he saw Edmund, he nodded in acknowledgment. Just that simple motion held an elegance that Edmund thought he could never replicate, no matter how hard he tried.

The more he looked, the more uncomfortable he felt. Not wanting to risk rudeness, he decided it was best to make a hasty exit.

Glancing around the room, Edmund thought bitterly that it was just as he had suspected: the more charming people were, the more self-conscious it made him feel. Look at how effortlessly Alaric handled himself while here he was, ducking into the restroom.

Chapter 3

Edmund Hawthorne turned on the faucet and bent down to rinse his mouth, spitting out the greasy taste until it was finally gone. He splashed some water on his face, then looked up to see his reflection in the mirror.

In his twenties, with fair skin and slightly slanted eyes that held a hint of mischief, he was undeniably handsome. Edmund had always relied on his looks, charming people and playing nice everywhere he went. People used to tease him that he would live off that face one day.

Who would have thought that they were right? Someone truly was taken by his looks.

Because he resembled someone else.

As the symphony of his stomach grumbled, already on its third movement, Edmund couldn't help but think nostalgically of the delicious meals he had missed. How had it come to this—salivating in a bathroom? He muttered a string of curses at Gideon Larkspur for putting him in this position.

Several people had come and gone in the restroom, none of whom he recognized. When the janitor returned for the second time, casting an incredulous look that seemed to ask, "you’re still in here?" Edmund found himself on the verge of striking up a conversation just to alleviate the boredom.

Just then, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen before picking it up.

“Where are you?” Gideon Larkspur asked, as if Edmund were the one running late for a date.

Edmund adjusted his bangs in the mirror. “Oh, just hanging out in the restroom sorting my clothes.”

Gideon chuckled. “You’re really in there? Come out already.”

Edmund knew at that moment that Alaric Montague had finally left, but he was still simmering with unresolved anger and pouted, “Are you done? Do you need me to hide for a bit longer? I was about to play the part of a beggar, scaring anyone who walks by.”

“Oh, someone’s upset. How about I apologize? Does that work for you?” Gideon offered, his voice breezy as if it were just a casual remark.

Edmund sighed, looking down as he caught the janitor's gaze. He forced a smile and hung up, stepping out into the bustling atmosphere.

Gideon’s attempt at an apology was insincere, and Edmund could tell. But what could he do? Gideon had said the words, offering him a moment of melodrama—enough for now. Pressing further would only make things worse for himself.

At the table, he noticed that Gideon had already settled the bill.

Feeling a pang of regret, he glanced at the untouched dishes and sighed, shrugging on his coat. The bathroom was drafty and too cold, and he felt the chill seep into him.

Following Gideon down to the parking garage, Edmund slid into the passenger seat as he heard Gideon say, “He didn’t stay long. We barely spoke.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Edmund replied, fastening his seatbelt without pressing him on why he hadn’t called him out earlier.

Gideon must have been lost in his thoughts, reminiscing alone at the table. No need to dig deeper and stir up uncomfortable feelings for everyone involved.

Gideon parked in front of their community.

When he didn’t make a move to get out of the car, Edmund had a notion brewing in his mind about saying something before leaving, but Gideon suddenly leaned over, lifting Edmund’s chin with a gentle gesture.

Chapter 4

Edmund Hawthorne felt a jolt in his chest as he turned his face, narrowly dodging a kiss from Gideon Larkspur. He understood the passion in Gideon's eyes, mixed with a confusion they both recognized; it seemed that Gideon had mistaken him for someone else. On a normal day, that wouldn't have mattered much. But today, Edmund found himself resisting that kind of treatment, so he raised a hand and pointed toward the security guard by the entrance. "Watch the atmosphere; there are people around," he said firmly.

Gideon, looking slightly disappointed after failing to steal the kiss, took out a cigarette, lit it, and puffed out a smoke ring before saying, "We have a meeting later this afternoon."

Edmund had anticipated this, so he didn't respond and simply got out of the car, observing as Gideon wiped his face and returned to his composed, polished self. He waved goodbye, and the car departed, carrying away Gideon's lingering sadness.

The chill of early January hit as Edmund stood outside for a moment, then he turned and walked towards the train station.

The afternoon atmosphere in Old Town was particularly quiet. As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, Edmund found himself holding several plastic bags. He pulled out his keys and opened the door to his modest, tidy two-bedroom apartment.

"Grandmother Agnes!" he called out as he changed his shoes by the door. When no one answered, he briskly entered the living room, relieved to find Matriarch Eleanor dozing in her armchair, her white hair glistening in the dim light.

He tiptoed through the room and quietly placed the groceries in the kitchen. Then he moved to the TV stand, where he stealthily opened a drawer. Sure enough, he found a few bottles inside.

Picking one up, he inspected it closely. Just as he suspected, they were all obscure products—no brand names, no labels, no expiration dates. A few years back, Eleanor had been diagnosed with high blood pressure and had been tricked by some unscrupulous seller. The legitimate medication was too expensive, so she ended up relying on these dubious health supplements instead.

With an impassive expression, Edmund took all the bottles out and retreated to his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He discarded the pills inside and replaced them with similar-looking vitamins he had purchased on his way home.

As he returned the bottles to their original spot, Grandmother Agnes finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing him, her face was as stern as ever. The wrinkles etched by time on her face hadn’t made her any kinder; instead, she appeared more bitter due to her frail physique. She gave him a penetrating look and muttered darkly, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Edmund replied, raising his voice slightly, knowing her hearing wasn't great.

"I didn't ask for you to come." Grandmother Agnes remained grumpy, filling her own glass of water before opening the drawer and popping a few pills from one of the bottles.

Edmund pressed the plastic bags into his pocket, ensuring nothing would fall out, but he couldn't help but urge, "Grandmother Agnes, if you're not feeling well, let me take you to the clinic. Stop buying those overpriced and ineffective medicines..."

She slammed the glass back onto the table, casting him a fierce glare. "My money is none of your business. Stop acting like your mother. No one is going to scam me out of another dime."

Those harsh words pierced through Edmund. He swore he had never wanted a cent from Grandmother Agnes, but the bond of trust had clearly been broken.

When he was three, his mother, under the pretense of taking him along for a business trip with her new boyfriend, stripped Grandmother Agnes of nearly all her savings and never returned.

Due to that day, for reasons Edmund couldn’t understand, his mother had taken him to an amusement park first, only to drop him off downstairs and vanish into thin air. Since then, Matriarch Eleanor had grown suspicious, convinced that Edmund knew more than he let on, and had turned her resentment towards him.

Edmund managed a smile, realizing that his ability to put on a mask was growing increasingly adept. "I really didn’t mean that, Grandmother Agnes. How about we have dinner together tonight?"

There was no response. The old woman's lingering reproaches grew louder as she retreated into her room and slammed the door.

Edmund's forced smile faded. Staring at that closed door, he rubbed his sore nose and, after a while, stood up and headed to the fridge to get some vegetables. He busied himself in the kitchen, trying to push the disappointment away.

Before long, he had prepared a simple meal of three dishes and a soup. When everything was set on the table, he called out to Grandmother Agnes from outside her door several times, only met with more complaints. Left with no choice, he sat at the table alone, picked up his chopsticks, and looked down at his bowl of rice.

"Happy twentieth birthday to me," he sighed softly to himself, a wry smile crossing his face.

Chapter 5

Edmund Hawthorne finished clearing the dinner table, but Matriarch Eleanor still hadn't made an appearance. It seemed clear she was determined to give him the silent treatment, and if he lingered any longer, she might even skip dinner altogether—a thought that made him cringe. Leaving a note on the table reminding her there were leftovers in the fridge, he made his exit.

He hadn't eaten much all day and felt a gnawing discomfort in his stomach, but he wasn't ready to head back to Gideon Larkspur's place just yet. Instead, he meandered down the street, passing the time aimlessly. After a couple of hours of wandering, he spotted a bakery across the street and decided to go in.

The bakery was warm and inviting, filled with an array of delectable pastries. Edmund stared at the treats, momentarily paralyzed by indecision. He felt someone queueing up behind him but couldn't bring himself to make a choice.

A cheerful young lady behind the counter beamed at him, asking if he was treating himself or buying for someone else.

He managed a smile in response, and she blushed slightly. Leaning a bit closer, he confessed, “Actually, it’s my birthday today, and I wanted to get a cake for myself.”

Before the girl could suggest anything, a voice piped up from behind him, “It’s your birthday today?”

Edmund chuckled, wondering if he might get a spontaneous 'Happy Birthday' from a stranger. However, when he turned around, he was greeted by a face he recognized all too well.

Of all people, it was Alaric Montague, still dressed as sharply as he remembered but now topped with a sleek black coat, appearing a bit more mature. Although Alaric was only slightly taller than him, to Edmund, he always carried an air of arrogance that made him seem larger than life.

The bakery played a soft melody, but Edmund's mood darkened instantly. He glared at Alaric while rationality told him to at least smile and exchange pleasantries. He attempted to form a smile, but it faltered, and he gave up.

“Sir, for your birthday, how about this cake?” the cheerful girl didn’t realize the tension and pointed to a cake adorned with strawberries and coconut flakes.

“Not right now, thanks,” Edmund replied curtly, stepping around Alaric and hurrying out the door.

But to his surprise, Alaric caught up with him almost immediately, calling out as if they were old friends. “Hey! Wait up!”

Edmund quickened his pace, and soon, he was sprinting down the sidewalk. But before he could get very far, a firm grip caught his elbow.

Resigned, he stopped running. The image of two grown men chasing each other down the street seemed outright ridiculous. “What do you want?” he shot at Alaric.

Alaric held out the cake he had hastily purchased, still wrapped in the simple plastic container. “You dropped this!” He wore an expression of genuine curiosity, as if his behavior was completely normal.

“Why are you giving me a cake?” Edmund looked at him suspiciously.

“Because you just told the girl it was your birthday. Aren’t you going to celebrate?” Alaric's face held an incredulous look, as if he were addressing a stubborn child.

“I’m not in the mood for cake right now,” Edmund replied, feeling a wave of irritation creep over him as Alaric’s demeanor remained so annoyingly casual.

“That’s not an excuse!” Alaric returned Edmund’s sharpness with a surprising warmth. “Birthdays are for celebrating! A sweet treat will lift your spirits.”

Lift my spirits? The audacity. Edmund couldn’t hide his frustration. “You think I’m even in the slightest bit happy?”

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