lisacameron99

[lisacameron99]

The One Where That Girl Is Poison Part 2

Warnings: emotional manipulation, mental health stigma, verbal conflict, dissociative identity disorder (DID), medical misinformation, threats of violence, family tension, betrayal by a friend, references to past trauma

Lily was already in her seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, notebook open but untouched. She looked up when he walked in.

He dropped the flyer onto her desk. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Jenna’s party.” He slumped into the seat beside her. “I’m not going.”

Lily furrowed her brows. “Wait, what?” As if on cue, Jenna strolled in—head high, sunglasses pushed into her hair, no cane in sight. She made a beeline for the front of the classroom, eyes locking on them briefly like a dare.

Lily gawked. “Oh my god. What happened? She’s not even going to hide it now?”

Noel muttered, “She made a move on me.”

Lily stiffened, jaw tightening. “She what?”

“I didn’t flirt back,” Noel said quickly. “If anything, I looked like I saw a ghost. Justin was there. He can confirm.”

“I’m not jealous,” Lily said, even as her voice cracked slightly.

Noel gave her a look. “Lil. You don’t have to be jealous. I was actively grossed out.”

“I mean… I should be over girls hitting on you,” she muttered. “We’ve been together a year and a half.”

“Actually,” Noel said, “we’re coming up on two years.”

Lily blinked. “Oh my god. We are.”

Her whole face softened. A little giddy now. She leaned in and kissed him, quick and warm, before settling back in her seat with a quiet smile.

Mrs. Montgomery walked in a second later, giving them a knowing look but saying nothing as she set her bag on the desk. Noel’s hand stayed on Lily’s knee under the table. She didn’t move it.

——————

The courtyard table was a little quieter than usual.

Hanna stabbed her salad with unnecessary aggression. Emily sipped from her Gatorade, eyes flicking between friends. Spencer hadn’t touched her turkey wrap. Aria picked apart a muffin like she was uncovering a mystery. Lily sat cross-legged, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, turning a water bottle in slow circles on the table.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Hanna said, finally. “She was never fully blind. The bitch has been watching us for months.”

“Maybe not months,” Spencer corrected, but her tone was clipped. “She was blind after the explosion, but I think she’s been regaining her sight and pretending otherwise.”

“Why pretend?” Aria asked, flicking a blueberry off her tray. “So she could sneak up on people?”

Emily nodded faintly. “So no one would see her coming.”

“She's unhinged,” Lily muttered. “And now she’s throwing a party like she’s a normal person and not a walking red flag.”

“She gave Noel a flyer,” Hanna said. “Hand delivered. In English.”

Aria raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“He gave it to Lily and said, ‘I’m not going,’” Hanna added, smirking slightly.

“Good,” Lily said flatly. “I don’t want him anywhere near her.”

“Okay, so... what do we do?” Emily asked. “Are we going?”

“No,” Lily and Hanna said at the same time.

“Hard no,” Hanna added, glaring at her fork. “I have play rehearsal. And self-respect.”

“I’m not going to that,” Lily said, voice quiet but final. “She touched Noel’s arm. I’ll go to Radley and hang out with Mona before I show up to Jenna’s pity party.”

Spencer looked between them. “Maybe we should go.”

Aria blinked. “What?”

“Think about it,” Spencer said. “If something’s going on—if she’s planning something—we won’t know unless someone’s there to see it.”

“You want to walk into her territory?” Hanna asked. “That’s a horror movie setup.”

“Someone needs to keep eyes on her,” Spencer said, glancing at Emily.

Emily sighed. “I’ll go. But only because if I don’t, you two will stake out the Brew from across the street and I cannot deal with that kind of energy right now.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said dryly. “We’ll be subtle.”

“You never are,” Aria muttered.

“Oh please, you're the one who wore sequins to a funeral.”

“Okay,” Emily cut in. “Hanna, Lily—you sure you’re out?”

“Out,” Hanna confirmed.

“Way out,” Lily said. “Jenna’s creepy, and I’m still emotionally recovering from her thinking she had a shot.”

Before anyone could respond, Spencer stood abruptly and pulled a folded paper from her bag.

“This just got dropped off at the office.”

The headline on the Rosewood Gazette made them all go still.

"Detective Garrett Reynolds Temporarily Released to Visit Terminally Ill Mother."

Aria’s face fell. Hanna swore under her breath. Lily just stared.

“What?” Aria said.

Spencer’s voice was quiet, but firm. “His mom’s dying. Stage four something. The prison board granted temporary release. Compassion clause.”

“Compassion,” Hanna echoed, jaw tight. “He helped murder a girl and he gets a compassion clause?”

“It’s legal,” Spencer said. “It doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. It just… means he gets to say goodbye.”

“That’s bullshit,” Lily muttered.

“It’s law,” Spencer said. “Not justice. They’re not the same thing.” Nobody answered that.

——————

By the time the bell rang, it was just Aria, Lily, and Spencer walking down the hall toward History Lit. Hanna had peeled off for rehearsal. Emily headed for the locker room. The hallway was loud—lockers slamming, footsteps echoing, someone yelling down the stairs about a vending machine eating their dollar. They walked in silence for a bit, shoulders brushing now and then. Then Aria slowed her pace.

Spencer clocked it immediately. “What’s up?”

Aria hesitated. “My dad is... seeing Meredith again.”

Lily blinked. “Wait. Like, seeing-seeing?”

Aria gave a sharp laugh. “According to him, they’re ‘reconnecting.’ He said it like it was some Hallmark moment. I just found them in the kitchen one night. She was drinking out of my mug.”

Lily winced. “That’s borderline criminal.”

“They both acted like I should be happy for them,” Aria said. “Like it’s growth or something.”

Spencer’s eyebrows pulled together. “Does your mom know?”

“No.” Aria looked down at her shoes. “And I don’t know how to tell her.” They reached the stairwell. Nobody moved for a second. “I just keep thinking,” Aria said softly, “if I tell her, she’s going to break. And I already watched her go through it once.”

“You’re not responsible for that,” Spencer said, voice steady.

“But I’ll still be the one who hands her the match,” Aria murmured.

Lily’s voice was quiet. “Do you want her to find out from someone else?” Aria didn���t answer. She didn’t have to. They started walking again, past posters for Jenna’s party and homecoming court and a bake sale no one would go to. None of them said anything.

But Spencer looped her arm through one of Aria’s, and Lily through the other as they turned into the History Lit classroom

——————

Lily’s room was dim—just the bedside lamp casting golden light across the posters on the wall and the tangled blankets on the bed Noel usually crashed in. He was pacing now. Hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

Emily stood near the desk, arms crossed, face set.

“I’m not saying I forgive her,” Emily said evenly. “I’m saying… she remembered something. Something that connects to the gaps in my memory from that night. Doesn’t that matter?”

Noel’s voice was sharper than usual. “It matters that she waited until now to say anything. It matters that she hurt you—multiple times.”

“She’s trying,” Emily shot back. “She’s not the same person.”

Noel scoffed. “Right. Because people just change overnight.”

“She was scared, Noel.”

“So were you,” he snapped. “You were scared, and she used that. She tried to drown you. She threatened you. Then you dated her. Then broke up with her. That’s not a second chance. That’s a cycle.”

Emily’s jaw tensed. “We believe in second chances. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“I do,” Noel said. “But you’ve already given her three chances, that’s more than two.” The tension crackled in the air. Neither of them moved. Then Lily’s door opened. She stepped inside, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up, hair damp from a shower. She stopped mid-step. Her eyes bounced between them. Noel looked like he was ready to combust. Emily’s hands were clenched around the edge of Lily’s desk chair.

“Guys,” Lily said slowly. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Emily stepped back first. “We’re fine.”

“You’re yelling,” Lily said, not buying it for a second.

Noel exhaled hard, dragging a hand over his face. “She talked to Paige.” Lily’s stomach dropped.

“And she remembered something,” Emily added. “Something that might matter. And I need to know what that was”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Lily said, cutting through it. “Not in my room. Not at this volume.” Noel looked like he wanted to argue. “Noel.” Lily’s voice cracked on it—just a little—but it was enough.

He sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Shoulders tense. Knees apart. Head down like the fight had finally drained out of him.

Emily looked between them once more, then toward the door. “I’ll give you two space.”

Lily nodded, eyes still on Noel. “Thanks, Em.”

The door clicked shut. Lily took a slow breath and crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, just standing there—barefoot in sweatpants and an old volleyball hoodie, damp hair falling over one shoulder. Noel didn’t look up. He just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. Quiet, desperate, like he didn’t know how else to steady himself.

Lily stood still for a second, startled. Then her arms came around his shoulders, and she held him. One hand against the back of his neck, the other threading into his hair. Neither of them said a word. He stayed there—forehead pressed to her stomach, grip tight—as if she was the only thing holding him together. And maybe she was.

——————

FaceTime Call — The Pretties 9:07

(Initiated by Spencer Hastings)

Spencer (on-screen in the Hastings kitchen, Emily next to her still in Brew attire, hair pulled up messily)

Okay. Emergency debrief. Everyone here?

Aria (in bed, hoodie on, messy bun, glasses slightly crooked)

Present. And emotionally unstable.

Lily (on the couch between Noel and Justin, knees pulled up, blanket around her waist)

We’re here.

Justin (popping into frame)

Barely. But alive.

Noel (off-screen but very much listening)

Speak for yourself. I’m thriving.

Emily (leans closer to Spencer’s screen)

I wouldn’t call that party “thrivable.”

Spencer

Yeah, about that. Can I go first?

Lily

I mean… obviously.

Spencer (rubbing her temples)

Jenna’s party was more of a power play than a social gathering. The second I got there, she called me out. Dared me—like, in front of everyone—to share a secret Ali had only shared with me.

Aria

WHAT.

Emily

She really said middle school trauma, huh?

Lily

What did you do?

Spencer

I panicked. Said Ali told me she was visiting her grandma once, but really she went to my lake house to hook up with someone. Not even a good secret—I totally choked.

Aria

Okay... weird but manageable?

Spencer (nods grimly)

Until Andrew got dared next. To kiss the girl he was actually into.

Lily

Oh no.

Spencer

He kissed Jenna.

Emily (instantly)

It was gross.

Justin

You’re kidding.

Spencer

Walked across the room, didn’t even flinch. Like it was nothing. But he wasn’t being himself.

Lily

No manipulation?

Emily

None. Worse than watching you and Noel make out.

Justin

Okay, that is gross—ow! (Lily elbows him offscreen)

Lily

It’s not a game to her. It’s a power ritual.

Spencer

Exactly. The way she smiled after? It was like watching someone win chess three moves ago.

Emily

She made that whole room her stage. I was behind the bar. Watching it unfold felt wrong.

Justin

Where was Toby? I thought he was going with you to the party.

Spencer

Texted me at 9:30 that he was “already asleep.”

Emily (quietly, as Lily and Justin share a look)

Right.

Spencer

Anyway. Aria?

Aria (adjusts her phone and exhales)

Lucas showed up at the art studio tonight.

Spencer

Seriously?

Aria

Said he had to “pick up negatives.” Claimed they were his. But I logged every submission this month. They weren’t.

Lily

What did he want?

Aria

To get inside. Alone. He guilt-tripped me, said I “owed” him. I said no.

Noel

Good.

Aria

He didn’t like that. Got close. Whispered like someone else was listening. Said, “You don’t want anyone else to find out what’s in there, do you?”

Emily

Was he threatening?

Aria

Not directly. But the vibe? Awful. Ezra showed up and he bolted.

Lily

He’s spiraling.

Spencer

Or following orders. Either way, we can’t trust him.

Justin

Do we ever?

Noel

He’s loyal. But to the wrong person.

Aria

It felt like he was trying to erase something. Or cover a trail.

Emily

Whatever it is, he’s not working alone.

Spencer

He’s part of something. Maybe not A, but A-adjacent.

Lily

Lucas. Jenna. Jason. They all have puzzle pieces. And none of us are seeing the whole picture.

Spencer (flatly)

I’m not convinced one way or the other about Jason. But I'ma agreeing to keep looking into it until we know. I think we also need to keep Garrett in mind too.

Silence falls for a beat. Then—

Emily

So what’s next?

Spencer

We track. We connect dots. We watch Jenna like hawks. No more blind trust.

Aria

Poetic, considering.

Lily

Do we think Andrew’s being blackmailed?

Spencer

No, I think he’s genuinely into Jenna. Which is disgusting.

Noel

Then we stay close. Closer than they want us to. And we watch.

Justin

I’ve got eyes. Let me know where to look.

——————

The call came just before ten-thirty. Ashley’s voice was shaking. “Lizzy, I need you to come. Now. They’re screaming. Hanna won’t stop crying. Caleb’s on the floor. I—I don’t know what to do.” She didn’t need to say more.

Ten minutes later, the Grey family car pulled into the Marin driveway.

The porch light was on. Inside, the air was thick. Still. Like the house itself had gone silent in the aftermath. Mark stood just inside the doorway, frozen. Justin and Noel hovered behind him, both wide-eyed but quiet, unsure where to go, what to say.

Caleb was on the living room floor, hunched in front of the couch, face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking like he couldn’t stop. His phone was upside down on the carpet. His shoe had come halfway off. He didn’t look up.

Ashley stood in the kitchen, arms crossed tight over her chest like she could hold herself together if she squeezed hard enough. Her eyes were red.

Lily stepped inside.

She took one look at Caleb.

Didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask. Didn’t wait. She turned and bolted up the stairs like she already knew exactly where Hanna would be. Her socked feet hit every step too hard. She didn’t stop when she heard her name. She didn’t slow.

Justin watched her go. He exhaled, jaw tight, and leaned closer to Noel.

“This isn’t going to be good.”

——————

Upstairs, Lily could already hear the sobbing.

It was muffled but sharp. Wet. Hanna crying the way she never let anyone hear. Gasping and broken and hiding behind a locked door that might as well have been paper.

Lily’s hand found the doorknob.

“Hanna?” she breathed. “Hanna… it’s just me… what’s going on? Hanna, let me in, please.” Hanna didn’t answer verbally but opened the door. “Oh my God,” Hanna hugged Lily tightly and didn’t let go. But Lily had seen Hanna’s face… blotchy and red from crying, eyes and even brighter red, nose puffy. 

Lily didn’t know what was going on–but she knew enough to know that whatever Caleb did, she wasn’t going to forgive easily.

——————

They sat on the edge of the bathtub. The silence was soft now—just Hanna sniffling occasionally, Lily holding a towel to her hands like it would soak up everything left unsaid.

“He went to see Mona,” Hanna said finally, voice thin and cracking.

Lily blinked. “Huh?”

“Yeah.” Hanna exhaled, head falling forward. “Apparently when he was there something happened�� I found out when I went for my usual visit and Wren pulled me aside. Said she’s not allowed visitors right now.”

Lily’s mouth fell open. “What did he say to her? She was making progress. Like actual, real progress.”

Hanna shook her head slowly. “She was. But Caleb… he said she’s either a sociopath or a psychopath. That she’ll never stop being one.”

Lily straightened. “That’s not her diagnosis.”

“I know.”

“She’s got DID. It’s dissociative identity disorder—”

“I know, Lily.”

“No, I mean—” Lily looked at her, jaw tightening. “My dad and Dr. Sullivan diagnosed Mona. Caleb knows that.”

Hanna nodded again. Miserable.

“And he’s just—what? Decided they’re wrong? That years of training and a medical degree and all of Radley’s reports don’t matter because he’s mad we forgave her?”

Hanna didn’t say anything.

Lily stood. Her hands were shaking. “Unbelievable.”

“Lil—”

“No.”

Her voice was razor-sharp. Controlled in that way it only got when she was past the point of snapping.

“I’m going downstairs.”

Hanna didn’t try to stop her.

Not when she heard Lily stomp out of the room. Not when she heard her descend the stairs two at a time.

——————

The second Lily hit the bottom step, she locked eyes with Caleb. He was still rooted near the fireplace like he didn’t know how to move, fingers limp, face drawn. Mark stood to the side, arms crossed. Justin was next to him, jaw tight. Noel’s posture was dangerous—like a match with the fuse already lit. And just behind them was Asher, hands in his pockets, body tense like he was bracing for impact.

“You went to see Mona?” Lily’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. Caleb winced.

“Lily—” Mark started, but she shook her head, eyes blazing.

“You went behind everyone’s back, said whatever the hell you said, and now she’s not allowed to have visitors?! You ruined everything, Caleb.” Caleb opened his mouth like he was going to explain, but nothing came out.

“She was getting better,” Lily said, stepping closer. “She was smiling. She was playing cards with me. She remembered things. She was trying. And you—you couldn’t live with the idea that she was healing, so you broke her all over again.”

“I didn’t mean—” Caleb tried, but his voice was useless.

“No. You never do,” she snapped. “But your words have meaning. Especially to someone who’s been told for years that they’re crazy and unfixable. You went in there and fed her every fear she’s ever had.” Caleb flinched again. No one moved. “She was diagnosed by two trauma-certified professionals,” Lily continued, breathing hard now. “Dr. Sullivan and my dad. She has DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. That’s not sociopathy. That’s not psychopathy. But sure, let’s throw medical science out the window because you don’t understand it.”

“She manipulated you,” Caleb said quietly.

Lily’s eyes went wide. “No. You manipulated this. You twisted it. You decided forgiveness was weakness because you couldn’t stomach it. Because it made you feel powerless.”

She paused, voice shaking. “You didn’t go to Mona to get closure. You went there to punish her. You couldn’t let it go, so you ruined it.”

Caleb had no argument. Just guilt. Heavy and real. Then Noel moved. He stepped forward with such force it took both Justin and Mark reacting at the same time to keep him from driving his fist into Caleb’s jaw. Mark caught him around the shoulder. Justin got his forearm. It took both of them.

“Let me go,” Noel growled. “I’m serious.”

“Noel,” Lily said, startled. She reached for her mom without realizing it, gripping Lizzy’s hand tight as Noel jerked against Justin’s hold.

“You do not get to speak to Lily like that,” Noel snarled. “You don’t get to throw trauma around like you know anything about it.”

“No one is throwing punches,” Mark said through his teeth. “Let’s not make this worse.”

Noel wrenched free, breath ragged. “It’s already worse.” Then he stormed out the front door and slammed so hard it rattled in the frame.

Lily stood frozen for a second, then released her mom’s hand and followed him, voice brittle and low. “Thanks for this, Caleb.”

The door slammed behind her. Justin stared at it for a beat, then turned to Caleb, quiet but deadly. “I told you to stop.”

Caleb didn’t answer. Just looked ashamed. Defeated. “I told you this wasn’t helping, that pushing her wasn’t helping, and you couldn’t shut your damn mouth. For once.”

“Justin,” Caleb said, weakly.

“No. Don’t talk.”

Asher stepped forward, tension radiating from him. “Hey,” he said gently. “I don’t think—”

“Did you know?” Justin’s voice turned razor-sharp as he rounded on him. “Did you know he went to see her?”

Asher’s eyes went wide. “No. I swear. I didn’t.”

“You better not be lying to me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Asher said quickly. “I would never lie to you about that.”

Justin stared at him for a long moment. Then turned to his parents. “I’ll be in the car.” And he walked out, the door shutting hard behind him.

[lisacameron99]

That Girl Is Poison Part 1

The Pretties, 4:18 PM

Warnings: emotional manipulation, ableism, mental health stigma, dissociative identity disorder (DID), gaslighting, intimidation, trauma references, verbal conflict, tension between friends, threat of violence

Hanna

okay update

mona’s not catatonic anymore

but she’s still out of it

like… barely making eye contact out of it

Caleb

i still don’t get how you can just forgive her

Lily

she has a mental disorder

that went untreated for years

that’s not her fault

Caleb

when did i say that it was??

that doesn’t erase what she did

Lily

no one said it did

what i said—what i tried to say in study hall—was that we give people chances to get better

mona’s not different

Caleb

really? because it seems like she is

she stalked you. tormented you.

but you’re ready to defend her and pretend it never happened

yet you can’t even look at jason or ian

Hanna

caleb. stop.

you don’t get to say that

Caleb

why not?? i’m asking real questions here

Lily

no

you’re twisting everything

you didn’t listen before and you’re not listening now

so yeah

here we are

again

Spencer

Okay. Enough.

We’ve had this conversation already.

We agreed not to judge Lily and Hanna for going to see Mona.

Caleb

you all agreed

i didn’t

Toby

Caleb

You also agreed to not be an ass about it

Caleb

i just want to understand

they get stalked and traumatized for a year

and now it’s all water under the bridge??

how does that make sense to anyone

Aria

maybe it doesn’t have to

not to you anyway

or the rest of us

it only has to make sense to them

Spencer

There’s no more context to give.

You’ve got everything

Caleb

then maybe give me enough until it does make sense

because right now

it doesn’t

Asher

maybe it’s not your job to get it

listen to aria... it's not your trauma

Caleb

wow okay

so whose side are you even on??

Asher

yours. i'm always on your side.

but part of being on your side means telling you when you’re acting like a jerk

Justin

but i’m on the side of if you keep talking to lily and hanna like that

i’m throwing hands

Lily

can we not do this here

Aria

this is exhausting

they’re allowed to make their own choices

we don’t have to agree

we just… support or shut the fuck up

Caleb

noel—seriously

you’re just okay with this?? after everything mona did to your girlfriend??

Noel

a lot of what lily went through

was jason

and ian

and lucas

and alison

not mona

Caleb

you’re such a coward

Noel

say that again

Justin

nope

no one’s throwing punches in the group chat

Toby

Enough

Caleb this is enough

I get that you’re frustrated

But this isn’t helping

You’re not helping

Noel, breathe

Don’t escalate the situation

Noel

i’m not

unless he keeps running his mouth about my girlfriend

and one of my best friends

Hanna

wait

one of your best friends???

noel kahn stoppp that’s so sweet

i’m screenshotting this and making spencer frame it for me

Spencer

I will frame it for you Hanna.

Not just because I don't trust you with a screwdriver or to know where to get a screwdriver.

We just love when guys are in tune with their feelings and emotions.

Guys other than Noel – take notes.

Lily

OMG I’M LITERALLY CRYING

ARIA CAN CONFIRM

Aria

she’s wiping her eyes rn

this is real

i am witnessing it

Lily

noel and hanna

besties

never thought i’d see the day

my two favorite people

being besties

i cannot

Justin

what am i then?? chopped liver??

Lily

annoying.

Justin

rude.

Emily

i feel abandoned

Lily

EMILYYYYY

MY RIDE OR DIE

MY HEART

MY BABY

MY RUNNING BUDDY

MY LOGICAL VOICE OF REASON

I NEVER FORGOT YOU

Emily

K. I’m good again <3

Back to latte art hell I go

Lily

LOVE YOU MORE THAN NOEL DOES

Noel

not possible but ok 

——————

The door gave a long, low groan as Lily pushed it open and walked into the day room. Mona sat at the table, back straight, hands folded. Her eyes looked brighter than before—but not fully clear. Like someone halfway through waking up from a dream. She didn’t speak right away. Neither did Lily.

“Hi,” Lily said finally, voice softer than she meant. Mona turned her head toward her. There was a pause, one long enough that Lily thought maybe she wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“I’m... surprised to see you.”

Lily nodded once, stepping inside. “I’m here.”

A twitch of a smile pulled at Mona’s lips, small and flickering. “I didn’t think you would be.”

“I wasn’t sure I would be either,” Lily admitted. “But I had time before choir, and…” She held up the deck of cards in her hand. “I thought we could play. If you want.”

Mona’s face lit up. Not in that calculating way it sometimes had in the past, but like a kid being offered the front seat. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Lily walked over and sat across from her, setting the deck down between them. “Double solitaire?”

“Always.”

They started dealing. The cards made soft flicks against the table, and for a while, neither of them said anything. Lily focused on the rhythm—flip, place, move, pause. Mona’s hands were steady, almost graceful. She was still good. Better than Lily, honestly. Mona laid down her final card with a proud little flourish and a real smile.

“You beat me by a second,” Lily muttered, smiling despite herself.

“I’ll take it,” Mona said. Then, quieter: “It’s been a while since anyone played with me.”

Lily started collecting the cards again. “Well, I figured you could use a win.”

There was a pause. Then—“I’m sorry I hurt you, Lily.” Lily looked up, startled. Mona wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked serious. Small.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Lily said.

“I want to,” Mona replied. “Okay? I know what I did. I know how awful it was. I shouldn't have let them be so mean to you.”

Lily frowned. “Them?”

Mona’s eyes didn’t meet hers. She was staring at her own hands now, fingers folded on the tabletop like she was remembering something she couldn’t quite say aloud.

“Those silly boys,” she murmured, far away. “Always out to hurt the pretty girls.”

A chill slid down Lily’s back. She swallowed. “What boys, Mona?”

Mona looked at her, but her eyes were unfocused again. Somewhere else. “Pretty girls always get hurt by the boys,” she said simply. “That’s the game. They play it really well.”

“Are you talking about Jason?” Lily asked carefully. “Or Ian? Or—Lucas? Garrett” No answer. Just a faint smile curling across Mona’s lips, wistful and weirdly warm. Lily leaned in a little. “Mona. Who hurt you? Who made you become this way?” Still nothing. Just silence, thick and strange and heavy. But then Mona looked up, locking eyes with her so suddenly it made Lily’s heart skip.

“Don’t worry, Lily,” she said, in that same dreamlike voice. “I’m not going to let those evil boys hurt you again.” Lily felt her breath catch. She didn’t know whether to feel safer or more afraid.

“Thank you Mona,” she said, because it was the only thing that came out.

Mona smiled again. This time, it looked a little more real. “It’s nice to have a friend besides Hanna,” she said. “For so long, it was just her. Just me and Hanna. Hanna was my only friend” Lily nodded slowly. Mona leaned forward a little, like she was confiding something sacred. “It’s nice that you care.”

“I do, Mona. I really do care.”

And somehow, Lily knew both of them meant it. She didn’t know what Mona knew, or how much she remembered, or how much of her was still half-lost in whatever world she’d disappeared into… But she knew Mona meant what she said. Every word of it.

——————

The restaurant smelled like oregano and burnt cheese. Lily stood near the front counter with Hanna, both of them clutching paper bags warm with takeout. It was too loud inside for comfort—low hums of conversation, clinks of cutlery, a baby wailing faintly from a corner booth—but Lily didn’t mind. She liked noise lately. Silence gave her too much space to think.

“I got extra garlic knots,” Hanna said, nudging her. “Mark said you needed comfort food, and I quote, ‘she’s been a bit glassy-eyed this week.’”

Lily rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “Glass-eyed is generous.”

They stepped toward the door, arms full of paper bags, when a voice sliced through the air.

“I didn’t expect to see either of you here.”

Lucas. He stood near the wall, arms crossed over his chest like he thought it made him look more threatening. It didn’t. His voice was low, pointed. Almost smug.

Hanna stiffened. “Lucas.” Lily didn’t speak.

Lucas tilted his head, looking between them. “Picking up dinner for the cult?”

“Don’t start,” Hanna muttered. “Seriously. We’re just getting food.”

“I talked to Mona,” he said, ignoring her. “She’s doing better. Or pretending to.”

Lily blinked. “Pretending?”

Lucas shrugged. “You don’t think she’s smart enough to fake a mental illness? C’mon, Lily. You’re smarter than that.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” she said, voice cool. “Mona is getting help. That’s what matters.” He stepped closer. Hanna shifted slightly, moving into Lily’s space.

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “I just think it’s funny. The girl who spent junior year having breakdowns in gym class is suddenly Mona’s advocate?” Lily’s jaw locked. “She’s manipulating you,” he said. “She always has. You think you’re special? You’re not.”

Lily didn’t flinch. But her hands were tightening around the takeout bag. Wrinkling the top.

“You should be careful,” Lucas added, voice quiet now. “Girls like you always get hurt.” Hanna opened her mouth—probably to tell him off—but she didn’t need to.

The bell over the door jingled. Noel walked in first, phone in hand, hoodie sleeves shoved up, followed by Justin, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there. Lucas paled. Noel spotted them immediately. His gaze snapped to Lily, then to Lucas. His expression changed. Gone was the relaxed half-smile—replaced by something sharp.

“Everything okay?” Justin asked, eyes already narrowing.

Lucas backed up. “Fine. I was just leaving.” He was gone in seconds.

Hanna exhaled. “Freak.” Lily didn’t say anything.

Justin and Noel stayed close as they walked to the car. They didn’t push. Lily didn’t speak. She climbed into the back seat of Justin’s car with the food still clutched in her hands, fingers aching from how tightly she’d been holding it.

The second the doors shut and the engine turned over, her shoulders started shaking. “Lil—?” Justin said, his voice gentle.

She turned toward the window, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t sob. She just broke. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, breath catching in soft, shallow hiccups, like she was trying not to make a sound.

Noel reached forward from the spot next to her and grabbed her hand, careful and warm. Just enough. Lily gripped tightly, not saying a word. Hanna reached over from the front and took the bag from her lap. No one said anything else. They just drove.

——————

The hallway was already buzzing when Justin leaned against the locker next to Noel’s. Clipboard tucked under one arm, iced coffee in hand, expression somewhere between I hate this job and I haven’t slept in four days.

“You look like death,” Noel said.

Justin rolled his eyes. “Coach Edwards made me do laps with the gym class for 'bonding.' I am bonded. Spiritually. Physically. I am also dying because I haven't been working out”

Noel snorted. Then his body went still. Jenna Marshall walked past—heels clicking, sunglasses perched in her hair like a crown, her eyes scanning the hallway. Sharp. Aware. Watching.

Justin noticed too. “That’s not fake-blind.” Noel didn’t answer. Jenna stopped in front of them, her smile stretching too wide. Like she knew something they didn’t. Like she always did.

“Noel,” she said, slow and syrupy. “You look good.” Justin raised an eyebrow. Hard.

Noel shifted uncomfortably. “Uh. Thanks?”

“I’m having a party at the brew Friday night,” she said, gaze flicking from Noel to Justin and back again. “You should come. Both of you.” Justin didn’t even try to hide the face he made.

“Sure,” Noel said flatly. “We’ll think about it.”

Jenna’s smile widened before she turned and walked away, not a single wobble in her step. No cane. No hesitation.

“Did that feel like a trap to you?” Justin asked, deadpan.

“She touched my arm,” Noel muttered. “I need a tetanus shot.”

“You’re telling Lily, right?”

“Obviously.” They split off at the stairwell. Justin toward the office. Noel toward English.

[lisacameron99]

The One With The Birds of a Feather Part 2

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, body image insecurity, romantic intimacy (non-explicit), mental health themes, institutionalization, grief, PTSD symptoms, past trauma

The Pretties, 10:57 PM

Lily

how does one go about asking her boyfriend who is better than any book could write a man to make out with her after months of being emotionally and physically unavailable

Hanna LILY WRONG CHAT YOU MEANT TO SEND THAT TO IYKYK

Lily

omg no fuck fuck fuck everybody look away disregard i’m going to go die now literally curling into a hole and never coming out bye

Aria abort mission abort mission retreat. RETREAT.

Spencer I’m going to psychoanalyze this but not over text.

Lily thank you spencer we can debrief during world history tomorrow instead of listening to mr. demmings talk about post–cold war foreign aid distribution

Spencer Perfect. We took Political Happenings last year. We’re overqualified.

Toby i feel like i shouldn’t be here but now i’m invested

Asher this is a rollercoaster of emotion and it’s oddly comforting keep going

Justin i should not have seen this message

Noel same

Caleb noel

Noel i KNOW

Emily noel

Noel ik

Lily you didn’t see it erase it from your memory ETERNALLY

Noel not a chance in hell, sweetheart

Lily i hate everything i’m going to go live in the woods with olive and never speak again j take good care of pepper baby pls

Justin you’re not allowed to run away i need you for snack runs and emotional stability

Caleb same i need you for moral support and pre-calc help

Lily boy have you seen me try to do math and j i’m not the emotionally stable one

Caleb you’re supportive which makes you useful, unfortunately but i also will bring you a chai and a muffin see you in study hall

Lily …only if it’s chocolate chip

Caleb you’re half of the twisted sister duo i know your food rotation and your cycle because you and hanna are synced

Lily …

Hanna …

Noel for the record i know it too

Justin I DO TOO

Toby i’m simultaneously impressed and terrified

Asher this is everything i hoped it would be

Aria why is this our life

Lily i’m still in the bathroom btw i’m not coming out i live here now

Noel you’re coming out eventually

Lily no i know you you're not going to pretend you read that and bc of that, i’m going to go live in a foxhole

Noel we’re making out in 10 minutes or less like this is a pizza delivery promise, sweetheart

Lily SOMEONE SEDATE ME

Emily Don’t look at me Ik you are but don't I’m emotionally drained

Lily EMILY FIELDS  i need you and you just leave me out like a wet sock???

Emily … did you expect anything more?

Lily no but also you could at least pretend to be supportive

Emily Oh babe I’m supportive Just tired

Lily fair and respect aria can you please help me with pre calc tomorrow?

Aria yes do you need my notes too? never mind, i'll just pack them

Lily right now i only love you and hanna and olive and maybe caleb

Noel i'd be jealous of caleb but ik he and hanna will get back together within the week

Hanna NOEL KAHN

Noel HANNA MARIN

Hanna LILY YOUR BOYFRIEND IS BEING RUDE

Lily idk what you want me to do bc i'm not leaving my bathroom

Hanna i love you but you suck right now

Asher

i’d like to place an order for this pizza, too justin - you available?

Justin i think i just might be available tomorrow night

Spencer I’m logging off. I’ll bring my analysis tomorrow. Godspeed bitches.

Toby i love this group. 

Caleb same

Justin welcome to chaos, boys. we’ve been expecting you.

—————————

Lily crept out of the bathroom like the floor might betray her. Her feet were bare, her face still flushed from the absolute hellstorm that was the pretties group chat, and she clutched the waistband of her too-big sweatpants like they might absorb her shame.

Noel was already in her room—leaned casually against the wall beside her bed, the very same one she had thudded into with her forehead ten minutes ago after realizing she’d sent that message to the wrong group chat.

He didn’t look smug, not exactly. But there was a glint in his eye that said he’d seen every word.

She mumbled before she could stop herself. “I should’ve thrown my phone in the toilet.”

“You really should’ve,” Noel said, pushing off the wall, his voice maddeningly calm. “But I gotta say… it’s not every day your girlfriend calls you ‘better than any book could write a man.’”

She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Do not quote me right now.”

He stepped closer. “So let me get this straight. You wanted to know—what was it again?”

“Noel—”

“‘How does one go about asking her boyfriend, who is better than any book could write a man, to make out with her after months of being emotionally and physically unavailable?’” he quoted smoothly, raising one brow as he stopped just in front of her.

Lily whimpered. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Unfortunately. “Still hate you.”

He smiled.

Then he stepped in. One hand slid to her waist. The other braced against the wall beside her head. His eyes searched hers for a beat longer—just long enough for her to nod, barely perceptible.

Then he kissed her.

It started soft. Familiar. Steady. Like he knew how much space to fill, how much pressure to use. Like he knew how long she’d waited. How long he’d waited. Her back pressed against the wall, the cotton of his old T-shirt loose against her skin, her hair still a little messy and slightly damp.

He didn’t rush. He just kissed her until she forgot the layout of her bedroom.

Until she melted.

Until her knees gave out—just slightly—and his arm caught her before she slipped. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her closer, one hand at her hip now, the other anchored behind her thigh.

She blinked up at him. “I forgot my name.”

Noel smirked. “Cool. That means I’m winning.”

She smacked his chest half-heartedly. “You’re so—”

He kissed her again.

And again.

And again.

They lost track of time, tangled in each other like the past few months hadn’t happened. Like being in her room, wrapped in his arms, was the only ending that ever made sense.

Until—

BANG BANG BANG.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME,” Justin shouted from the other side of the wall. “LILY. I SHARE THAT WALL. I SLEEP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT WALL. DO YOU HATE ME?!”

Lily buried her face in Noel’s chest with a squeak of horror. “Oh my God.”

Noel just laughed, smug and warm and way too pleased with himself. “Still hate me?”

“Ask me again when I stop wanting to be dead.”

“Noted.” He kissed her temple. “But I’m not going home. So.”

“Obviously.” She sighed, soft and sweet and completely undone. “But next time… blanket fort.”

Noel grinned. “Deal.”

—————————

The Brew smelled like chai and burnt espresso. One of the baristas had Taylor Swift’s evermore playing low behind the counter, and the hum of the milk steamer filled the quiet like a warm exhale.

Lily slid into the booth like her bones hurt, ponytail damp from a post-practice shower, sweatshirt loose around her frame. Her volleyball bag hit the floor with a thump.

“Barely survived,” she muttered. “If I pass out, just roll me under the table and pretend I’m a dropped bag of flour.”

Justin didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Noted. Should I steal a muffin off your body first?”

“Obviously.”

Across from them, Toby looked up from a set of blueprints, pencil tucked behind one ear. “Was it stairs again?”

“Stairs, suicides, and Coach J’s emotional warfare,” Lily said, dragging her water bottle up from the side pocket. “I think I transcended my physical form somewhere on lap six.”

“You always say that.”

“This time I saw Jesus. He said stretch more.”

Toby laughed, quiet and soft. Emily, seated beside him with her physics notes spread out in front of her, smiled without looking up. “I’m not Jesus, but maybe if you hydrated like a normal person and not a Victorian orphan, you’d recover faster.”

Lily sighed dramatically, tipping her head back against the booth. “Let me live in peace.”

“You’re the one who joined two sports and choir,” Justin said without missing a keystroke. “No one told you to be ambitious.”

“I wanted to make college counselors cry.”

Toby smirked. “Mission accomplished, then?”

Lily let her eyes drift shut for a moment, just long enough to soak in the calm. The way the lighting felt golden, even though the clouds outside said otherwise. The low hum of the café, the tapping of Justin’s keyboard, Emily’s pencil scratching, the shuffle of Toby’s papers.

It felt quiet. Safe. Still. She opened her eyes again and glanced at the others. “You ever just… sit in a moment and realize how much you needed it?”

Emily looked up. “Yeah.”

Justin didn’t speak, but his hand bumped Lily’s gently under the table. A silent conversation. Toby tilted his head. “You okay?”

Lily nodded, but the breath she let out was shaky. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

She gave him a look. “Ha-ha.”

They all smiled. But the quiet settled in again, like the moment had exhaled.

Lily ran her thumb over the edge of her chai cup.

“Emily,” she said softly. “That night. At the cemetery. When we saw that blonde…”

Emily blinked. “Yeah?”

Lily hesitated. “Did she… did she look like my mom? Even for a second?”

Emily went still. “Lily…”

“I know it wasn’t her,” Lily rushed to say. “I know it wasn’t. But just for a minute, I thought—I don’t know. I thought maybe it could’ve been.”

Justin looked up now, the air sharpening slightly.

“You think Lizzy snuck out of Radley to go to Alison’s grave?” he asked.

“I don’t know what I think,” Lily said. “I just can’t shake it.”

“It wasn’t her,” Emily said, firm but kind. “I swear I would’ve known. She’s not exactly forgettable.”

Lily let out a tight laugh. “Yeah.”

Toby cleared his throat. “It wasn’t your mom.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Lily’s brow furrowed. “You sound sure.”

He nodded once. “I am.”

“How?”

He hesitated for a split second, then said, “Because I just know. Trust me.”

There was something in his voice that shut the door on further questioning.

Justin raised a brow. “Okay, James Bond.” Toby smiled like it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Justin leaned back, stretching. “I mean, hypothetically, if someone wanted to sneak out of Radley, it wouldn’t be hard. Security’s outdated. Half the cameras don’t work. Staff turnover’s high. Not that I know that from experience.”

Emily arched a brow. “Are you seriously giving a masterclass on mental hospital breakouts?”

“I’m just saying. If someone had to do it. They could.”

“You’re insane.” Emily said, but there was no mirth in her voice.

Lily smiled, barely. “It’s a Grey sibling thing.”

Emily’s voice softened again. “Do you think Mona’s still drugged up? Or just… pretending?”

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “That’s why Hanna and I are going after study hall. I want to see if she’s lucid. If she’s in there at all. Or if they’re keeping her sedated on purpose.”

“That’s risky,” Toby said quietly.

Lily nodded. “So is everything else lately.”

Nobody argued with that. 

A few beats passed. Then Lily glanced out the window and whispered, “It’s just nice. This. Having people who don’t make the world feel so loud.”

Toby met her eyes. “You do that for us too, Lily.” Her throat burned. She looked away.

Justin cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m gonna cry. And if I cry over Toby Cavanaugh saying something sweet, someone better deck me with a chair.”

“You’re a menace.” Emily scoffed, but gave Justin a soft, tired smile.

——————

The walls were painted in pastel lies. Muted peach and lavender. The kind of colors you picked when you were trying to make pain feel polite. Like you could tame it with a little gloss and a softer lightbulb.

Lily stood just inside the doorway, arms wrapped tight around herself, one sleeve pulled over her hand so far it nearly covered her fingers. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sweeter—fake vanilla, maybe, or fabric softener on old sheets. Hanna took a shaky step forward.

Mona was sitting by the window. She looked like a doll someone had forgotten to put away. Hair brushed smooth, parted in the middle, face freshly washed. Her legs crossed at the ankle. Her hands resting gently in her lap. 

Her eyes fixed on something just outside the glass, as if the horizon had called her and she hadn’t stopped staring since. She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Didn’t know they were there. Hanna stopped a few feet away. Lily stayed back. Watching. Waiting.

“She used to talk a mile a minute,” Hanna whispered, barely above breath. “Like her thoughts couldn’t catch up with her mouth.” Lily nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I used to think it was annoying,” Hanna said. “Before I realized she only talked that fast when she was trying to outrun something.” Mona didn’t flinch.

“Hi,” Hanna tried, voice thick. “It’s me.”

Still nothing. Lily stepped closer, slow and careful like the room might crack open. “We just wanted to see how you’re doing.” Mona didn’t move.

Hanna crouched a little, trying to get in her line of sight, even though Mona’s eyes were far away—like they didn’t belong to her anymore. “You were my best friend,” she whispered. “The only person who ever made me feel like I could be something more than leftovers. You told me I was beautiful before I ever believed it. You made me feel like I mattered.”

She blinked fast. “Even when you were hurting me… you made me feel like I mattered.” Mona didn’t respond. 

“You didn’t have to become this,” Hanna said, more to the silence than to her. “You didn’t have to carry it all alone.”

Lily’s throat burned. “You were a kid.”

Hanna sniffled. “We all were.”

They stood there for a long time. Just watching her. Hoping. Dreading. Mona’s chest rose and fell evenly. Her gaze didn’t shift. “I don’t know if you’re in there,” Hanna whispered. “But I hope you know you’re not alone.”

Lily stepped forward, quiet but steady. She reached down and set something on the table between them—a worn, folded-up photo booth strip from sophomore year. Mona, Lily, and Hanna. Three girls pressed shoulder to shoulder, smiling like nothing could touch them. Then they left. And Mona didn’t blink.

——————

They didn’t talk in the hallway. The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that felt too heavy for the sound it made. Radley’s overhead lights buzzed quietly, casting everything in a sterile yellow tint. The nurse at the desk didn’t look up. Lily waited until they turned the corner, until the silence stretched too far between footfalls.

“She’s really gone, huh?” Hanna’s voice cracked like it hadn’t made up its mind about crying yet.

Lily exhaled, slow. “I don’t know.”

They pushed through the front doors. The air outside was colder than expected. A breeze caught at the ends of Lily’s sweatshirt. Hanna rubbed her arms. “I kept thinking she’d move,” Hanna said, staring at the parking lot. “Like it was a trick. Like she’d blink or laugh or say something snarky about my outfit.”

“I know,” Lily murmured. “I kept watching her fingers.”

They stood in the quiet a little longer, next to Lily’s car. Hanna leaned back against the passenger door. “She was my best friend,” Hanna said, softer now. “And then she was the worst thing that ever happened to me. And now I don’t even know what she is.”

Lily leaned beside her, shoulder brushing hers. “She was both.”

“I think that’s what hurts the most,” Hanna whispered. “That she really did love me.”

“I know.”

Lily didn’t reach for her hand. Didn’t hug her. Just stayed beside her like a lighthouse—not moving, not blinking, but there. The wind tugged at Hanna’s hair. Somewhere in the distance, a siren cried out.

Lily opened the driver’s side. “Come on. Let’s get chai. Coach J’s gonna murder me tomorrow.”

“You’re not driving me to school in your volleyball shorts again.”

“Then you’re buying my muffin.” Hanna almost smiled. Almost.

[lisacameron99]

The One With The Birds of a Feather

Warnings: grief, PTSD symptoms, body image insecurity, parental trauma response, emotional manipulation (Jason), discussion of past abuse, mentions of stalking, mental health institutions, intense emotional vulnerability, light romantic intimacy (18+).

Lily didn’t knock. She just let herself in, kicked off her shoes at the front door, and climbed the stairs like it was muscle memory. Hanna’s bedroom door was open, just barely. Lights off except for the dull glow of the TV on pause—Grey’s Anatomy frozen mid-tearjerker.

She found Hanna under the comforter, hood up, knees to her chest, mascara wiped but not totally gone. She didn’t say anything. Lily didn’t either. She just crawled in behind her, pulled the blanket over both of them, and tucked her chin into the curve of Hanna’s shoulder like they were thirteen again and trying to survive different kinds of heartbreak.

They didn’t speak for a while. The silence wasn’t weird. It never was. Eventually, Hanna sniffed. “I don’t know how to let her go.” Lily didn’t answer. Just let her talk.

“She was my best friend for two years. Not fake-best-friend like Ali. Real. We watched movies. We dyed each other’s hair in my bathroom. She made me feel confident. Like I wasn’t just someone’s leftover.” Her voice caught. “The only people who’ve ever made me feel like I mattered are you… and her. And I lost Caleb, and I hate that. But I couldn’t lose you or Mona. Not like that.”

Lily’s chest stung. She exhaled slowly, eyes on the ceiling. “I know she hurt people,” Hanna whispered. “I know she hurt you. But I can’t just delete her like she didn’t happen. Like none of it mattered.”

There was a long beat. “If you wanna go see her tomorrow,” Lily said softly, “I’ll go with you.”

Hanna turned slightly. “Wait—really? I thought you hated Mona.”

Lily blinked. “I don’t hate Mona.”

“You don’t?”

“I hate Jason. I hate Ian. I hate Lucas on days that end in “day”. Mona’s… complicated. But she was your friend. And she’s mentally not right but that’s not her fault. So yeah. I’ll go.”

Hanna stared at her for a second. Then just nodded, quiet. “Thank you.”

Lily bumped her forehead into Hanna’s arm. “You’d do the same.” A pause.

“Wanna unpause Grey’s and cry about other people’s trauma for a while?”

“Only if we skip Denny because I do not support that the way you do.”

“We are watching season 7 so no Denny.”

Lily hit play. They didn’t talk much after that. They just lay there under the covers, the screen flickering across the walls, best friends in a house too quiet, trying to figure out how to move forward without burning everything behind them.

—————————

Noel wasn’t really studying. His books were open, sure, and there was a highlighter tucked behind his ear like he had good intentions, but he was mostly just there to keep Emily company. He’d been sprawled in the back corner of The Brew for over an hour, halfway through an iced chai and very obviously avoiding the stats packet he kept flipping back and forth between.

Emily glanced over from behind the counter and raised a brow. “You’ve been on page five for twenty minutes.”

“I’m savoring the academic tension,” he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes but smiled, grateful. It was her first real shift back—first time in the space where Maya used to wait for her after school, where they used to share muffins and pretend time didn’t exist. Noel hadn’t said anything when she texted that morning, just showed up at the start of her shift and claimed the booth like it was his job to haunt her through grief.

“Need anything?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Yeah. A million bucks. Or a refill. Whichever’s more available.” She tossed a sugar packet at his face. It missed.

The door jingled then, and a tall guy stepped in—duffel bag slung over his shoulder, hoodie tied around his waist. He scanned the café, spotted Emily, and walked over.

“Emily Fields?” he asked.

She straightened. “Yeah…?”

“I’m Nate. Maya’s cousin.” Every muscle in her body went still. He gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “Sorry—I should’ve started with that. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Noel straightened a little in his seat, watching now. Not alarmed, but definitely alert. Nate pulled a small box from his bag. “I was going through some of Maya’s stuff with her mom. She asked me to give this to you.”

Emily took the box carefully. Inside was a folded T-shirt—the one from their first movie date. She felt her chest squeeze before she even touched the note. “She said you guys used to laugh about how bad that movie was,” Nate said quietly. “I thought maybe it’d help. Even a little.”

Emily nodded, blinking fast. Nate looked at Noel and gave him a polite nod, then turned back to her. “I’m starting classes at Hollis this fall, but I didn’t want to just… show up out of nowhere. I’ll get out of your hair now.” He set down a book he’d been reading, then disappeared toward the side hallway, giving them space. Emily stood there for a moment, the shirt in her hands.

Noel leaned forward on his elbows. “Okay. Not to sound like a supportive sitcom side character, but that was weirdly sweet.”

Emily didn’t answer right away. She just sat down across from him and placed the shirt in her bag, carefully.

“He seems… nice,” Noel added, in the tone of someone who wasn’t convinced, but also wasn’t ready to declare someone evil based on vibes alone.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “He does.” She paused. “It’s just… there’s a lot of Maya in this.”

Noel nodded, resting his chin in his hand. “And a lot of you in how you took it.”

She gave him a look. “Okay, what Hallmark movie did you steal that from?”

He smirked. “It’s called growth, Em. I’m trying to be emotionally available and wise.”

“Gross.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

He grinned. “Same thing.” She kicked his foot under the table, but not hard. “I’ll hang around for a bit longer,” he said after a beat. “In case you get ambushed by any more emotionally devastating cousins.”

Emily gave him a real smile this time. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

—————————

The second the lock gave way to Melissa’s apartment, the adrenaline kicked in. Aria ducked inside first, followed by Hanna, who whispered something like “we are literally going to jail” under her breath. Lily just grinned and gave Emily a gentle nudge between the shoulder blades.

“Come on, Fields. Let’s go violate some privacy.”

“I’m regretting this already,” Emily muttered, but she followed anyway.

Melissa’s apartment was painfully clean. Like, no one actually lives here clean. The kind of clean that screamed I have nothing to hide—which immediately made Lily suspicious.

Aria took up position by the front window, peeking through the blinds, while Hanna hovered near the door, phone out, already sweating. Emily and Lily moved deeper into the apartment, shoulders brushing in practiced silence.

“This feels illegal,” Emily said under her breath.

“That’s ‘cause it is,” Lily whispered back, tugging open a closet. “But like… ethically, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t break into a storage unit for me.”

Emily paused. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

They crept toward the bedroom, where a garment bag hung slightly unzipped on the back of the door. Emily reached for it, but Lily caught her arm first.

“No. Let the reckless one do it.”

“Lily—”

“Just in case it’s booby-trapped,” she whispered dramatically.

Emily sighed. “I hate you.”

Lily grinned and cracked the bag open—and her phone buzzed at the exact same moment. She fumbled with it, squinting at the screen.

iykyk: 

Spencer:

Wallet. Coming back. Hide. Now.

“Shit. SHIT,” Lily hissed. “Closet, closet, closet—”

Emily was already dragging her backward. “Why are you yelling?!”

“I panic loud!”

They slammed into the hall closet just as the apartment door opened. It was pitch black. Emily’s elbow was in Lily’s ribs. Lily was standing on Emily’s foot.

“Stop breathing like that,” Emily whispered.

“I’m literally suffocating, you’re welcome.”

“Your phone’s still on! Turn the brightness down!”

“I’m trying, my face is sweaty, the screen won’t—oh wait, there.”

Emily exhaled hard. “This is your fault.”

“My fault? You picked the closet!”

“I picked survival.”

Then Lily’s hand brushed something weird. Long. Silky. She froze. Slowly brought it up to eye level. Feather. Black. Obvious. She turned the phone’s dimmed flashlight on it, just enough for Emily to see.

“Oh my god,” Emily mouthed.

Lily blinked at it. “Okay but like… dramatic much? Who owns feathers this long unless you’re on RuPaul’s Drag Race or blackmailing someone?”

Emily clapped a hand over Lily’s mouth. They heard Melissa muttering in the kitchen—keys, wallet, the door again. Silence. Ten seconds passed. Then Lily said, “You good?”

Emily shoved open the closet door. “Get out before you say anything dumber.” They slipped out, met up with Spencer,  Aria and Hanna at the door.

“You found something?” Hanna asked, voice low.

Lily held up the feather like she’d just won a scavenger hunt. “Melissa’s into performance art now.”

“She’s Black Swan,” Emily clarified, snatching the feather from her hand before Lily could start twirling it.

As they bolted out of the apartment and back into the sunlit street, Lily bumped Emily’s shoulder with hers.

“You love doing crime with me.”

Emily didn’t even look at her. “I’m blocking your number after this.”

Lily grinned. “Sure. Your person is my boyfriend, you’re kinda stuck with me.”

—————————

The Brew was quieter than usual, warm afternoon sun leaking through the windows and catching on half-empty mugs and highlighters. Spencer had three legal pads out, Emily was nursing a double espresso like it might rewire her brain, Aria was doodling hearts around question marks on a napkin, and Lily was chewing the string of her hoodie sleeve like it owed her money.

They were mid-spill, everyone unloading the latest theory like it was casual brunch gossip, when the bell above the door slammed against the wood. Jason DiLaurentis stormed in like the force of a weather system—shoulders tight, eyes sharp, mouth set in that “I’m gonna say something and no one’s gonna like it” kind of way.

Lily’s entire body went rigid. He didn’t even glance at them at first. Just went straight to the bulletin board by the front window, pulled a neon-colored flyer from his bag, and slapped it against the cork with three violently aggressive thumbtacks.

$50,000 REWARD – INFORMATION ABOUT ALISON DILAURENTIS’ REMAINS

Then he turned. His eyes met Lily’s—just for a second too long.

Not in a flirty way. Not in a friendly way. Just… off. And all six girls noted it was weird. Her stomach flipped. Her mouth went dry. Jason didn’t say anything. Just walked right back out, the bell jangling behind him like nothing had happened.

Spencer stood immediately, grabbing her bag. “Where are you going?” Aria asked, brows raised.

“I need to talk to him,” Spencer said, already out the door. That left them in silence. Until Aria turned to Lily, eyes wide.

“Okay… girl. What the hell was that?”

Lily blinked. “I don’t know.”

Aria didn’t move. “He looked at you like you—like you keyed his car and got away with it.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Lily snapped, but it wasn’t mean. Just tight. Tired. “He gives me the creeps. Like actually makes my skin crawl.”

Emily tilted her head, concerned. “Since when?”

“Since forever. Since he moved back across the street. Since he started lurking around like he owns the place. I can’t even stay at home unless Dad or Mom’s there, because he’s always out front, watching. Or pretending not to. Or showing up at weird times.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly too warm. “I’m on the hot mess express and there’s no brakes and I hate it.”

Aria reached over and pulled the sleeve out of Lily’s mouth gently. “Okay. But you can say that instead of chewing your hoodie like it’s a Xanax.”

Lily let out a breath that sounded too close to a laugh. Emily bumped her knee against hers. “You could stay with me. Or Aria. Or Hanna.”

Lily just nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t want it to be a thing.”

“It already is,” Aria said softly. “So let’s make it a thing that keeps you safe.”

Lily didn’t answer. She just picked at the sleeve again, blinking too fast.

—————————

The front door creaked open and Lily stepped inside, her fingers still wrapped tight around her keys like she hadn’t realized she was gripping them that hard.

“Mama?” she called, voice a little higher than normal.

“In the kitchen, baby,” Lizzy answered, voice soft and even, like she hadn’t been holding her breath for Lily all afternoon.

The smell hit her as she rounded the corner—garlic, onion, basil blooming in oil. Lizzy stood at the stove in one of Mark’s old surgical t-shirts and black leggings, stirring a pot of sauce that looked homemade, even if the noodles still sat boxed beside the stove. It was the kind of meal that made you feel warm before you even tasted it.

Lily let her bag slide off her shoulder and dropped it by the island before settling into one of the stools. “Smells good.”

“Better taste good,” Lizzy murmured. “I’m improvising, and I think I went overboard with the pepper flakes.”

Lily huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course you did.”

Down the hall, the low thump of music echoed from Justin’s room—some rap remix vibrating faintly through the floorboards. It was familiar. Loud but grounding. Safe in that way only certain kinds of noise can be.

Lily didn’t speak right away. She let her hands rest on the counter, pressed her palms into the cool granite like it could help her stay still. Then she told her mom everything. About Jason showing up at The Brew. The way he looked at her. The way her skin crawled. How she couldn’t even sleep at home if it was just her in the house. How she hated that it made her feel small.

Lizzy didn’t interrupt. She just stirred the sauce. Lily wasn’t sure she even blinked. When she finished talking, Lizzy quietly turned off the burner, wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and walked over to the counter. Then she picked up her phone. 

Lily blinked. “Mama… what are you doing?”

“Looking at houses,” Lizzy said, already scrolling. Calm. Steady. Like she was checking the weather.

“What?”

“We’re not staying here while he’s living across the street. It’s not safe. It’s not worth it.”

“Mama, we can’t just move.” Lizzy didn’t answer. She gave her that look instead—the one that meant I’ve done more with less, and I’ll do it again if I have to. Lily stared at her. “Oh my God.”

She turned around and shouted down the hallway. “Justin!”

A beat later, he padded into the kitchen, barefoot in socks, hair still damp from the shower, hoodie half-zipped and expression confused. “What’s going on?”

“Your mother is trying to sell the house,” Lily said, pointing at Lizzy like she needed backup.

Justin glanced between them, then at the phone in Lizzy’s hand. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Lizzy didn’t look up. “Exactly.”

He stepped closer to peer at her screen. “That one has a fenced backyard. Olive would lose her mind.”

Lily groaned and slid off the stool, rubbing her hands down her face. “This cannot be real life.”

But they weren’t listening. Her mom and brother were already comparing square footage and school zones like it was normal. Lily walked out of the room with a soft, exhausted laugh under her breath.

In the background, Justin was saying something about built-in shelves, and Lizzy was already calculating the commute.

—————————

The front door clicked open just after seven, followed by the quiet shuffle of dress shoes and the soft jingle of keys being set in the bowl by the door.

Olive took off first—nails skittering across the floor as she ran toward the front hallway, tail wagging. Pepper followed at a slower, more judgmental pace, as if announcing that the interruption was inconvenient.

Mark stepped into the kitchen still in his scrubs, tie loosened, stethoscope half-tucked in his pocket. He bent to greet Olive, rubbed behind her ears, then gave Pepper a quick scratch on the back before standing fully upright.

He paused, brow furrowing. Justin was perched at the counter with Lizzy beside him, iPad open between them. The air smelled like tomatoes, garlic, and basil—comfort food in progress—but the mood in the kitchen felt more like quiet planning than casual dinner.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly.

Lizzy kept her hand on the wooden spoon, stirring gently. “We’re looking at houses.”

Mark blinked. “We are?”

Lizzy didn’t raise her voice. “Yes.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

“Because Jason DiLaurentis lives across the street,” she said, calm and clear. “And your daughter can’t sleep in her own bed when no one else is home.”

Mark’s gaze flicked toward the dining table, where Lily was curled into a chair, half-tucked beneath a blanket, still in her sweatshirt and leggings, Little House on the Prairie balanced open in her lap. Book two—On the Prairie. The one where everything is new and unfamiliar and slightly too much. She didn’t look up when he walked in.

He stepped over, his tone gentle now. “Bug?”

She didn’t respond, just flipped the page. But she didn’t pull away when he crouched beside her chair, resting a hand on the back of her braid.

“I’m not trying to make this harder,” she murmured, eyes on the book. “I just… It already doesn’t feel like home.”

Mark’s expression didn’t change. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He stood back up, moved toward the kitchen. Lizzy met his gaze, no explanation needed.

Justin leaned over the iPad. “We’re only looking at houses in Rosewood. Just not this street.”

“I told them that was non-negotiable,” Lizzy said, voice quiet but firm. “We’re not leaving town. Just finding somewhere that gives her peace.”

“We’re not running,” Mark agreed. “We’re just… adjusting.”

Lizzy nodded once. “Exactly.”

Justin tilted the screen toward him. “This one has a fenced yard. Olive could roam without freaking out the neighbors.”

“No pool,” Mark said automatically. “Not unless we can fence and cover it.”

“I already filtered those out,” Lizzy replied.

They looked toward Lily again. She hadn’t moved, still reading quietly, blanket pooled around her legs. Pepper had jumped onto the empty chair beside her. Olive sat at her feet, head resting gently against her shin like she could sense the tension and wanted to offer something solid in return.

“Do we need to talk to her again?” Justin asked under his breath.

Lizzy shook her head. “She’s listening. She just needs space to feel what she feels.”

Mark rubbed his forehead. “Alright. Two bathrooms minimum. 4 bedrooms, we have to have a Hanna room. Natural light. No weird basements.”

“No fixer-uppers,” Lizzy added. “We don’t need another project.”

Justin grinned faintly. “You’re all just mad because I had the best room this time.”

“No one asked you,” Lily said. From the table, Lily didn’t look up, but her voice was clear. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“But you’re letting us do it,” Lizzy said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Olive climbed herself right onto Lily, sitting right next to Pepper. Pepper, content that all of her humans were in the room at once, let out a half-snore. Lily turned the page and didn’t argue again.

—————————

Lily stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, already exasperated. “No. Absolutely not.”

Noel didn’t even look up from where he was half-lounging against the headboard, pillow in hand. “What now?”

She pointed at the two oversized pillows he’d stacked like a throne. “Those are bed pillows, Noel. As in decorative. Not for sleeping. Not for throwing. Not for you.”

“They’re literally on the bed.”

“They’re for aesthetic.”

“So we can look at them, but not touch them?”

Justin, who had walked in thirty seconds ago and hadn’t been acknowledged once, leaned against the doorframe, sipping from a mug. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Lily didn’t even turn around. “Don’t start.”

Noel raised an eyebrow. “Why do we have pillows on the bed that we don’t sleep with?”

“Vibes.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“This is why I’m in charge of design,” she snapped, yanking the pillow from his hands and flinging it toward the armchair like it had betrayed her.

Justin made a noise into his tea. “You two are, like, a Buzzfeed quiz titled ‘What Kind of Domestic Chaos Are You?’”

Noel grinned, unbothered. “Wanna talk about blankets next?”

“Oh my god,” Lily muttered.

“Okay,” Noel said, sitting up like he was preparing a case in court. “I understand the sheet. The comforter. I can maybe accept one additional blanket if it’s freezing. But we’ve got five, and one of them is weighted.”

“That one’s for trauma.”

“I’m not saying we don’t need it. I’m just saying—do we need all of them?”

Lily whipped around, braid smacking her shoulder. “Do I judge how much time you spend shining your free weights in the basement?”

Justin choked on his tea. Noel blinked. “That’s not—”

“Or how you iron your socks before games?”

“That was a couple of times—”

“Or how you literally rearranged your protein bars by flavor and expiration date?”

“I WAS BEING RESPONSIBLE.”

Lily jabbed a finger at him. “Exactly. Some things aren’t about logic. They’re about control and comfort. So no, I don’t need a dissertation on my blanket count.”

Justin held up a hand. “Hold on. Hold on.” He looked between them like they were exhibits in a museum. “You two are, without exaggeration, a reality show. Like, I’m watching this thinking, This is scripted. This can’t be real life. And yet, here we are.”

Lily glared. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I couldn’t look away,” Justin said, eyes wide. “It was like a rom-com and a hostage situation had a baby.”

Noel just smiled and leaned into Lily’s space, voice low. “Regardless of how many blankets you stack up, you’re still waking up with me wrapped around you.”

Lily flushed instantly. “You’re insufferable.”

Justin threw his hands in the air. “What the actual fuck did I just witness?”

Noel, without missing a beat: “Love.”

Justin pointed at them both. “Hanna is so much better at not being sexual around me. Take notes.”

Lily buried her face in her hands. “Please get to the part where you came in here for a reason.”

“Right.” He set the mug down, suddenly serious. “It’s about Asher and Caleb. And their mom.”

Lily’s head snapped up. “What happened?”

“He’s okay, but something’s wrong,” Justin said. “Really wrong. And I need both of you. And Hanna.”

Lily was already grabbing her phone. “I’ll call her.”

Justin nodded. “Tell her it’s about the car. And to come now.”

Noel stood from the bed, his voice steady. “A?”

Justin’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. A’s not just messing with Asher and Caleb. They’re trying to break them.”

—————————

After talking with Hanna, Lily and Noel decided to take a break from reality. Noel was playing some game on his phone and Lily was reading Little House On The Prairie again. Noel’s thumb flicked absently across the screen of his phone, the faint sounds of whatever game he was half-playing muted beneath the layers of quiet.

Lily lay beside him on the bed, under the fraying, soft-knit throw blanket her mom had made her the year she turned fifteen. The sheet and comforter were pushed down, forgotten. It was too warm for all that.

Her legs brushed against Noel’s where they stretched out beside each other—bare feet tangled unconsciously, not quite intentional, but not avoided either. Her head was propped on her hand, the book open in front of her. She wasn’t really reading. Her eyes skimmed sentences, but none of the words were sticking.

Her body didn’t feel like hers lately and she needed to know if Noel felt the same way. “Noel?” she said softly.

He didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

She waited a second. Then, quieter, steadier—“Does it bother you? That I’m not… the way I used to be?”

That made him pause. The phone screen dimmed. His hand stilled. Slowly, he turned his head toward her. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyes locked on hers now. Fully there. Fully listening.

She didn’t answer right away. She pulled the blanket higher—not for warmth, just to hide. Her arms curled across her chest like instinct, like armor. She looked away from him, staring instead at the dog-eared page.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I just feel different. Since… everything.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. “I feel like my body changed and I didn’t agree to it. My hips don’t fit right in jeans anymore. I used to like my chest and now it just feels like too much of me. Like I take up more space than I’m allowed to. Even my shoulders—everything’s just…” She exhaled. “I don’t recognize it. And I don’t feel sexy or cute or even close to how I used to feel. And I keep wondering if you’re… waiting for me to go back to that. Or if you even want this version of me.”

Silence. Then—“I miss touching you,” Noel said quietly. “I miss you. But not like… some past version. I’m not sitting here hoping you’ll snap back into who you were before.”

Lily didn’t move. But he did. He shifted onto his side, elbow bent, head resting in his hand so they were face to face.

“I love you,” he said, soft but certain. “I loved you before. I love you now. I’ll love you through whatever this is. Your body is yours, Lil. It doesn’t owe me anything.” She blinked fast.

“I’m just scared,” she admitted. “That I’ll never like it again. That I’ll always feel like this—too much in some places and not enough in others. Like… my boobs got bigger and I know that sounds like it shouldn’t be a bad thing, but it doesn’t feel like me anymore. And I look in the mirror and see someone older. Sadder. Someone I don’t know how to dress or feel okay in.”

“You don’t have to be okay yet,” Noel said. “You don’t have to be okay for me to love you.”

Her eyes burned. She turned into her pillow a little, letting it catch the brunt of it. “I just don’t want to disappoint you,” she whispered.

Noel reached over and touched her wrist gently, tracing a line with his thumb. “You could only ever disappoint me if you pretended,” he said. “If you did something for me instead of you. That’s not what I want.” She looked up at him, lips parted, unsure. He smiled faintly, smoothing a piece of hair away from her temple.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, voice fragile. His response was a breath of a laugh, low and warm. He leaned in, not hovering like he used to, but easing close until his forehead rested against hers.

“Lil,” he murmured. “You don’t need to ask.”

He kissed her then—slow, warm, and grounding. Not urgent. Not hungry. Just… there. Like he was anchoring her to something still safe.

When he pulled back, his eyes flicked down to where her arms were still curled across her chest. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he said gently.

She nodded. Swallowed. And let her arms fall. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then one just under her jaw.

“No matter how many throw pillows you hide behind,” he whispered, a smirk tugging at his mouth, “you’re still waking up with me wrapped around you.”

That got her to laugh, wet and tired and real. She curled a little closer into him, one of her hands brushing against his chest, the other grabbing her book again. And what felt like the first time in what felt like days, she let herself breathe.

End.

[lisacameron99]

The Course That Lead Me To You Masterlist

Chapter 1: Stanford Anatomy 1, Tessa 0

Chapter 2: The Anatomy of a Breakdown (No Flashcards Required)

Chapter 3: Flashback and Echoes (Anatomy Never Forgets)

[lisacameron99]

The Course That Lead Me To You

Chapter 3: Flashbacks and Echoes

Warnings: emotional manipulation, heartbreak, unrequited love, cheating (kissing), emotional breakdown, vulnerable intimacy, referenced past sexual content

Tessa didn’t expect to see him there. Not in Conrad’s room. Not sitting at the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees like he was waiting for her.

But he was. Jeremiah Fisher—golden boy, heartbreak artist, the walking memory of everything she used to want—looked up as she opened the door and froze.

Her stomach twisted. Her fingers curled into the hem of Conrad’s sweatshirt. She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing it.

“I don’t think—”

“Please,” he said. Just that. And for a second, he looked like the boy who used to sit next to her on the dock at Cousins, swinging their legs over the water and brushing her pinky with his. She stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind her, soft and final. Neither of them moved. The air between them was thick, all the words they never said crammed into the space like insulation. She leaned against the dresser. He stayed on the bed.

“You look…” He trailed off, eyes flicking over her. “Different.”

“I am different,” she said, not bothering to soften it. “That tends to happen when someone breaks your heart.” Jeremiah winced. Visibly. Good.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Tessa gave a hollow laugh. “You never do.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting her to hit back so fast.

“I just…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I heard you were here and I thought maybe—I don’t know. We haven’t talked since—”

“Since you decided I wasn’t enough,” she cut in. Her voice was calm. Too calm. “Yeah. I remember.”

Silence. She watched the way his jaw clenched, the way he looked down like maybe the floorboards could tell him what to say.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then finally: “I missed you.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe. Just looked at him like he was a pop quiz she hadn’t studied for—something she used to care about. Something that didn’t matter anymore.

“Don’t say that,” she said. “Not until you’re ready to hear what I really have to say.”

And then she pushed off the dresser, crossed the room, and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. Not close. Not anymore. Just enough to look him in the eye when she broke his heart back.

—————————

Flashback

It started on the water. Late July. That thick, syrupy heat where the air shimmered above the dock and the world felt soft around the edges, like a secret she wasn’t supposed to know yet.

Tessa was half-draped over a giant neon-yellow float, her fingertips skimming the surface, eyes closed beneath the sun. Meghan was next to her in a matching tube, legs dangling off the side, laughing at something one of the boys had said—Trey, maybe, or Max. One of Jeremiah’s other summer friends, the ones who showed up tan and charming and always slightly too confident.

She didn’t care. She was here. Floating. Warm. Happy. Jeremiah had been in and out of the water all afternoon, diving off the side of the boat, flipping his hair like a golden retriever, flashing grins that made the girls giggle and Tessa’s stomach knot in ways she never quite knew how to name.

She’d spent years loving him quietly. From a distance. From the seat beside him at bonfires, from the other end of the couch during movie nights, from behind her sunglasses when he was chasing waves or girls that weren’t her.

But that day felt different. She didn’t know why. She just knew she couldn’t stop smiling.

“God,” Meghan said, tossing a wet arm over her face, “if I die right now, bury me in the sand and tell my ghost to chill.”

Tessa laughed, loud and unfiltered, leaning into the float and kicking her feet lazily. Her hair clung to her shoulders. Her cheeks ached from smiling. It was the kind of happiness that didn’t need explanation.

“You’re sure happy,” a voice said behind her.

She startled slightly—didn’t realize he’d climbed onto the float until she felt the weight of him shift behind her, one knee brushing hers underwater, his arm slung loosely along the rim of the tube. Jeremiah. Of course. She turned her head, heart stuttering.

“I’m at my favorite place,” she said softly. “With my favorite people. How could I not be?”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That include me?”

Her breath caught. The answer sat right on her tongue—obvious, reckless, true. “You’re not not on the list,” she teased, aiming for breezy, but it came out quieter than she meant.

His gaze dipped to her mouth, and her stomach flipped so hard she almost lost her balance. He was closer now. So close she could smell sunscreen and lake water and the faint burn of his last beer.

“Good,” he murmured.

And then—he kissed her. No hesitation. No audience. Just him and her and the hush of the lake around them. His lips were soft, careful at first. A question. Then firmer. A promise. His hand found the curve of her hip, anchoring her like he’d always meant to.

The float bobbed gently beneath them. Someone yelled from the boat, but it felt a thousand miles away.

Tessa kissed him back like the answer was always yes. Like she’d been waiting her whole life for this exact moment on this exact float with this exact boy.

It was everything she’d ever wanted. Her first kiss. Her first real kiss.

She remembered the way her heart raced, wild and giddy. How her fingers curled in the edge of the float so she wouldn’t float away. How he looked at her afterward—like maybe he’d just figured something out, and she was part of it.

She remembered Meghan’s grin when she finally climbed back onto the boat. The way her mouth opened in silent surprise. The way Tessa smiled so hard her face hurt for hours.

She remembered thinking, Maybe this is finally my summer.

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t know—was that Jeremiah Fisher was a master of firsts. Not of forevers.

—————————

Jeremiah looked like he was trying not to break. But not for her. For himself. And that said everything. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of her like it physically hurt to stand still. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Tessa blinked. Slow. Controlled. A practiced burn behind her ribs that didn’t let her cry anymore.

“You keep saying that,” she said flatly, “like it makes any of this better.”

He shifted. “I’m just trying to be honest.”

“No,” she snapped, voice low but deadly. “You’re trying to absolve yourself. There’s a difference.”

His shoulders dropped a fraction. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” she said, stepping toward him now, arms crossed tight over Conrad’s sweatshirt like it was the only thing holding her together. “Because from where I’m standing, this is exactly fair. You want me to say it’s okay. You want me to say I forgive you, that it didn’t ruin me. That I’m fine.”

Her voice cracked—barely. She bit it back before it could bleed.

“You want me to make this easier for you,” she whispered. “So you can keep being the guy everyone loves. So you can sleep at night without thinking about me.”

“Tess—” She stood straighter. Taller.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say my name like you still get to.” He flinched. Actually flinched.

“I didn’t know how to handle it. Us,” he tried again. “It was complicated—”

“There wasn’t an us, Jeremiah,” she cut in. “There was never an ‘us.’ There was me. Loving you. Waiting for you. Letting you kiss me when it was convenient. Letting you call me when you were lonely. Letting you have pieces of me without ever offering anything back.” She paused. Swallowed hard. Met his eyes dead-on.

“There was me, giving you everything I had. And you—” her breath hitched, a dry sob stuck in her chest—“you taking it like it was nothing.” Jeremiah looked stricken.

Like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the words. Like maybe—for the first time—he finally understood. She let the silence stretch. Let it sting.

“You were my first kiss,” she said, softer now. Not gentle—just broken. “My first real heartbreak. My first everything.” Her fingers dug into her sides.

“I let you have that. I wanted you to have that.”

Her eyes burned, voice trembling even as she fought to hold it together.

“And it didn’t matter,” she whispered. “Because I was never anything to you.” He opened his mouth.

She shook her head, stepping back like the space between them was the only thing saving her now. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say you cared.”

—————————

Flashback

She wasn’t even supposed to be at the party. It was late August, the end of everything, and she only came because Meghan begged. Because some part of her—some pathetic, stubborn part—still hoped he’d notice she was there. That maybe he’d smile at her across the room like she was still his favorite secret. And for a little while, it felt like maybe he would.

Until she saw him on the porch. Kissing someone else. It was quick. Sloppy. The kind of kiss that didn’t mean anything—except it meant everything to her. Because she had never gotten that version of him. Never public. Never simple. Never claimed.

And now he was giving it away like it cost nothing. Her chest cracked open. She didn’t wait. She turned and walked out—fast, pushing past people, not stopping when someone called her name.

But this time? This time, he chased her.

“Tessa!” he called, shoving past a group of guys on the steps. “Tess—wait!” She didn’t stop until she hit the curb. “Tessa, please.”

She whipped around, her face burning. “Don’t.” He froze. “Don’t come after me now,” she snapped, voice shaking. “You don’t get to do that. Not after that.”

“It wasn’t—” He broke off, panting. “It didn’t mean anything. I swear.”

“You kissed her,” she said. “Right there. In front of everyone. Like it was nothing.”

“It was nothing.”

“Then what the hell does that make me?”

He looked stricken. Wrecked. Like he hadn’t thought that far. Like it hadn’t occurred to him that she might’ve seen it and still come undone.

“You matter,” he said. “Tessa. You matter.”

Her laugh was wet and sharp. “Then why have you never treated me like I do?”

“I didn’t know how,” he said. “Okay? I didn’t know how to want you the way you deserve. I didn’t know how to be good at this.”

“Then why now?” He stepped closer.

“Because I saw your face when you looked at me,” he said. “And I realized I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t lose you. Not like that. Not because of her.”

She blinked back tears. “You don’t want me,” she whispered. “You just don’t want to feel guilty.”

He shook his head. “I want you. I’m choosing you.”

She wanted to believe him.bGod, she did. And when he kissed her, desperate and apologetic and shaking, she let him. Because for one night, she needed to believe he meant it.

—————————

“You never gave us a chance,” Jeremiah snapped, like it was a defense. Like it was a truth. Tessa stilled. A beat passed. Then another.

And she laughed—sharp and wounded, a sound that splintered in her throat and bled down her face.

“You don’t get to say that,” she whispered, the words barely holding together. “You know that’s not true.”

“Tess—”

“All you had to do,” she said, louder now, breathless, “was stay. That’s it. I didn’t ask you to love me the way I loved you. I didn’t ask you to be someone you weren’t. I didn’t need fireworks or love letters or a label—I just wanted you.” Her chest heaved.

“Why wasn’t that enough?” Her voice broke hard, and she pushed a hand into her sternum like she could physically hold the pieces together. “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Jeremiah took a step forward. “It wasn’t you—” She let out a strangled sob.

“Don’t do that,” she begged. “Don’t lie to me just to feel better about what you did.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then say it,” she demanded. “Say it out loud. Say why you kept me hanging on. Why you kissed me like I was everything and then left like I was nothing.” He stared at her, mouth opening and closing.

“I gave you everything I had,” she said, voice rising, splintering. “And you took it like it was yours to keep. You let me love you. You knew I loved you—and you let me. Because it was easy. Because I was safe. Because I would never leave you, and you knew that.”

He looked stricken. “Tessa—”

“Just admit it,” she choked out. “You tolerated me. You kept me around because I made you feel better about not having her.”

He didn’t deny it. And that told her everything. “I was in love with Belly,” he finally said. Quiet. But not quiet enough. She flinched. Like it burned.

“I know.” Her voice cracked so hard it barely came out.

“She was with Conrad. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was angry and stupid and I thought…” He trailed off.

“No,” she said, backing away. “Finish it.”

“I thought maybe I could make it work with you.”

She laughed again—shaky and broken, her whole body trembling with the force of holding everything in.

“So you used me,” she said. “Got it. We’ve established that. But that can’t be it, Jeremiah. That can’t be the only reason you stayed. That can’t be the only reason you touched me like that.”

He looked down. Couldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re right,” he said, finally. “It wasn’t just that. It was more. You were more. And it scared the hell out of me.”

“Then why didn’t you stay?” she whispered. “Why didn’t you try?”

He looked up at her then. And said the thing that shattered her: “Because I didn’t love you that way.” The air left her lungs. Just gone.

“I know,” she whispered, shaking. “I know you didn’t. But you knew I did.” She pressed her fists to her mouth, but the sob ripped through anyway. “You knew, and you let me believe it could mean something. You let me think you might change your mind. You let me fall in love with you and you knew the whole time you couldn’t give it back.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a breath. “You used my love like a safety net.”

Jeremiah stepped forward, slow. “Tessa—”

“No,” she said. “Don’t. Don’t come near me. Don’t say my name like it’s yours to say.”

And then—quieter. Hollowed out.

“You don’t get to miss me.”

He didn’t try again. Because he knew. Because finally—finally—he knew what it was like to lose her.

—————————

Flashback

The worst part was how normal the day had started. It was hot—mid-August, cicadas humming in the background like white noise. Tessa was in a tank top and cutoff shorts, holding a half-melted iced coffee and arguing with Conrad about frozen grapes in the snack aisle.

He insisted they weren’t worth the hype. She told him he had a broken palate. It was easy. Comfortable. Almost fun.

They were walking out of the store—arms full of snacks and sunscreen, the smell of plastic pool floaties clinging to her skin—when it happened.

She stepped off the curb. Turned toward the lot. And stopped breathing. Jeremiah was there. So was Belly.

They were tucked behind the vending machines, just barely out of sight, like they hadn’t expected anyone to catch them.

He kissed her. Not drunk. Not joking. Not accidental. It was soft. Familiar. The kind of kiss that didn’t need an explanation. Like it had been building. Like it had already happened before.

Tessa didn’t make a sound. She just stood there. Conrad stepped up beside her, stopped short when he followed her line of sight. His entire expression shifted. Jaw locked. Shoulders tensed.

“Tess—” Conrad started, quiet. But she was already moving. Not fast. Not loud.

Just… gone. She didn’t run. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream his name or storm over and demand answers. She just walked. Because there was nothing left to say.

She waited, in some small pathetic corner of her chest, for him to come after her. He didn’t. He didn’t even look.

—————————

“I left because I needed space,” Tessa said quietly, arms wrapped around her waist. Her voice was steadier now. Not because she wasn’t hurting, but because she’d already said everything that needed to be said.

Jeremiah looked at her. Really looked at her. Like maybe for the first time, he understood just how much he broke.

“You promised it wouldn’t change us.”

She smiled—tired, soft. A little sad. “You had to know it would.”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched between them, thick and real and too full of everything they couldn’t take back.

“Are we ever going to be friends again?” he asked. She looked down. Her fingers clenched around the hem of her sleeve.

“I don’t know, Jer,” she said honestly. “Are you going to finally let me be happy?”

That stopped him. He stared at her for a long moment. Like the question reached deeper than anything else had. And maybe it did.

Then he nodded. “Yeah. I will.” He said it like a promise. “I’m happy with Belly,” he added, voice soft. “And you should be happy with Conrad. That’s all I ever wanted for you. To be happy.” Her throat tightened.

She stepped forward, closing the space between them, and wrapped her arms around him.

He hugged her back immediately. Familiar. Gentle. Like muscle memory.

“Jer,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You were my best friend. And I can’t just go back to that like it never happened. Like you never happened.”

He didn’t say anything.

“But I can try,” she said. “Okay? I’ll try.”

His voice was low. Rough. “I’ll take it.”

And for the first time in a long time, they just stood there. Not as what they were, or what they could’ve been—but as something else entirely. Not healed. But healing.

—————————

Jeremiah left with a quiet goodbye and a ghost of a smile. The door clicked shut behind him, and Tessa was alone.

She didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there in the silence, her arms folded tight across her chest like she could keep the rest of herself from spilling out.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was echoey. Every word she’d said, every tear she’d cried—it was still hanging in the air like fog she couldn’t shake. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, chewing at the inside of her cheek until it tasted like blood and regret.

Had she said too much? Had she ruined it? Was Conrad going to look at her differently now? Like she was too complicated. Too messy. Too full of feelings meant for someone else.

The door creaked open. Her head snapped up. Conrad stood in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, a glass of water in his hand like he’d just come from the kitchen.

Her throat tightened. “Please tell me I didn’t fuck it up.”

He blinked. “What?”

She rubbed at her face with both hands. “Us. This. You. I just… I said a lot. I know I come with baggage, and I know I’m kind of a lot sometimes—”

“Tessa,” he said gently. “Of course you didn’t.”

She blinked at him, all shaky breath and damp lashes. “Okay. Good.”

He walked over, setting the glass down on the nightstand before sitting beside her on the bed. Their shoulders brushed. Neither of them moved.

She leaned into him, cheek to his shoulder, one of her hands brushing lightly against his thigh like she needed the contact. Like she needed him to anchor her body back to her bones.

“I’m overstimulated,” she murmured. “And over-emotioned. And my brain’s doing that thing where it makes everything worse.”

Conrad didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head, resting his chin lightly on top of hers. Warm. Steady. Present.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said after a minute. She nodded against him, but didn’t move.

“Wait…” she said quietly.

He looked down at her. “What?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. Just whispered, “Can you…?”

He didn’t ask what she meant. He already knew. “Yeah,” he said softly.

And then he kissed her. Not rough. Not rushed. Just a slow, careful kiss that said I’m still here. That said I know it’s been a lot—but you’re safe now.

Tessa kissed him back, her hands fisting lightly in the hem of his t-shirt like she needed to hold onto something solid. Something real.

And then he was guiding her down gently, pressing soft kisses to the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, her collarbone. She let him move her back against the pillows, the sheets cool under her thighs as he settled above her, careful and sure.

He was between her legs, not pushing, not asking for more—just there. One elbow braced beside her head, the other hand ghosting over her ribs as if to say, I’ve got you.

She blinked up at him, dazed and quiet. And then she really looked. His hair was messy. His shirt was bunched from where she gripped it. His eyes were full of her.

And his arms—his biceps flexed above her, holding his weight, every line cut and warm and tense. The soft fabric of his sleeve hugged the muscle like it was trying to kill her.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered before her brain could stop her.

Conrad smiled, slow and crooked. “You’re literally killing me right now.”

She huffed a small laugh, burying her face in his shoulder for a second. “Good.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time. But not faster. Not heavier. Just right.

They found a rhythm together, breathing the same air, letting their hands explore in slow, quiet movements. Her legs stayed around him, not to pull him closer—but to keep him with her. Just like this.

It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t sleep. It was something in between. Something safe. And for the first time in hours, Tessa let herself exhale.

End Chapter 3.

Wow that was a lot. Like a lot a lot.

[lisacameron99]

The Course That Lead Me To You

Chapter 2 - The Anatomy of a Breakdown (No Flashcards Requires)

Warnings: Matt’s a dick, verbal harassment, panic attack, anxiety spiral, alcohol mention, past emotional manipulation, implied trauma, emotional vulnerability

Tessa Jones had no business being at a frat party. She knew it the second she stepped inside and the bass rattled her chest like a second heartbeat. The living room reeked of beer and sweat and the kind of cheap body spray that should’ve been outlawed in all fifty states. Her sneakers stuck to the floor with every step.

“I’m giving it an hour,” she muttered, eyes darting toward the back door like an exit strategy. “Max.”

“Hour and a half,” Meghan said, linking their arms. “You showered. That adds thirty minutes.”

Willa snorted. “You’re here, you’re hot, and for once, you’re not carrying flashcards. This is a win.”

“You sound like my therapist,” Tessa muttered, letting them drag her deeper into the chaos.

“You don’t even have a therapist,” Meghan shot back.

“Exactly. And it shows.”

They were halfway toward the kitchen when a flash of movement across the room caught her attention. She turned her head—and froze.

Conrad. Propped against the far wall in the soft glow of a busted string light, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, a red solo cup tucked in one hand like it was a prop. His hair was messier than usual—like he’d run a hand through it too many times—and he was talking to someone she didn’t recognize. Tall, vaguely pre-med looking. Probably one of his classmates. Still, he didn’t seem all that invested in the conversation.

Especially not when he looked up and saw her. Their eyes locked. The noise dropped out like someone had hit mute. Tessa’s stomach flipped. He didn’t smile—not right away—but something shifted in his face. Like her showing up was unexpected. Not unwelcome.

And then, with infuriating calm, he tipped his chin in acknowledgment and took a sip of his drink. Bastard. “Go,” Willa whispered, nudging her forward. “He’s alone. Do something chaotic.”

“I’m wearing socks with holes in the toes,” Tessa hissed under her breath.

“He’s not gonna ask to see your toes.”

“You don’t know that.”

But she was already walking, pulse in her throat, her body moving before her brain caught up. She stopped a few feet away, arms folded, giving him a look.

“I thought you didn’t do parties,” she said.

Conrad glanced down at his drink, then back up at her. “I don’t. But Luke does. And apparently, I looked like I hadn’t touched grass in two weeks.”

She bit back a grin. “Did you argue?”

“No,” he said. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Well, congrats on rejoining the social world.”

He leaned against the wall a little more. “You’re here too.”

“Against my will.”

He tilted his head, eyes scanning her face. “You always this charming at parties?”

“Only when I run into people who’ve seen me cry over flashcards.”

He actually laughed—quiet and warm, the kind of laugh she could feel in her chest.

“Let me guess,” she added, “vodka soda?”

“Vodka seltzer,” he corrected. “Soda is for optimists.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she muttered, but she was smiling now.

“Want one?” he asked, pushing off the wall. “I swear it’s not from the mystery jug in the sink.”

“Sure,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual even though her pulse had picked up again. “Surprise me.” He nodded once, and as he turned to head toward the kitchen, she caught the flicker of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“You’re blushing,” Willa whispered suddenly in her ear. She jumped—forgot she hadn’t actually been alone.

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’re like… cute-flushed. It’s kinda hot.”

Tessa elbowed her, but her face was burning. She leaned back against the wall, heart still racing, eyes following Conrad as he moved through the crowd.

It didn’t mean anything. It was just flirting. Just two almost-friends with a shared history and a library study room. Right? Except…

Except she was starting to think she didn’t want it to be just anything. And that scared her more than all the bones in the human body combined.

—————————

Tessa barely had time to gather her thoughts before it happened. One second, she was letting herself breathe. Letting herself feel the smallest bit of normalcy, of safety—heart still fluttering from the way Conrad smiled when he walked away. And then—

“Damn. Still as pretty as I remember.” She froze. Matt. Drunker than a frat boy should be at this hour, reeking of beer and confidence he hadn’t earned, swaying slightly as he stepped into her space.

Tessa stiffened immediately, pushing off the wall. “Matt. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, blinking slow. “I’m just saying hey. You’re allowed to say hey back, y’know.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Aw, come on,” he slurred, cocking his head. “We’ve talked plenty. Or did you already forget that summer in Cousins where you practically—”

“Don’t.” Her voice dropped, cold now. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” Matt stepped closer. Too close. His eyes flicked down her body like he had the right.

Tessa held her ground. “I’m not doing this.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking,” he said, voice tipping sleazy. “I just thought maybe we could finally stop pretending. You always wanted it, right?”

She took a step back. “Matt—”

“You said no last time,” he went on, ignoring her. “But I figured you just needed to cool off. You’ve got this whole good girl, smart girl act, but at the end of the day—”

She shoved his chest. Not hard, but enough. “Back off.”

His smile dropped. “Why? Afraid someone’s actually gonna see you for what you are?” Her breath caught. “You’re always acting like you’re better than the rest of us,” he sneered. “But nobody sticks around long enough to want anything more than to fuck you.”

The words hit like ice water. She blinked. The party kept spinning around her—bass thudding, people laughing, music rising—but her brain went flatline.

Tessa didn’t think. She just reacted. She grabbed the nearest cup from the end table—someone’s half-drunk pink concoction with a lemon wedge still floating—and threw it straight in his face.

Matt staggered backward, sputtering, eyes wide as the sticky liquid hit him full force.

“Fuck—what the hell, Tessa?!”

She didn’t wait for him to recover.

She spun on her heel, heart racing, throat tight, and pushed through the crowd. She didn’t see Alex. Or Willa. Or Meghan. Just bodies, laughter, the pounding rush in her ears as she shoved her way toward the door.

Behind her, voices broke through the haze—“Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“She said no, asshole—”

“Strike two, Matt,” Alex snapped, his voice cutting above the rest.

“Oh, come on—”

“No. I don’t care who your daddy is, you pull shit like that again, and you’re done. Not just with this frat—with every one of them. You so much as look at her again, and I’ll make sure your name’s blacklisted across campus.”

Tessa didn’t hear the rest. She was already outside. Already shaking. Already unraveling.

—————————

Tessa didn’t remember getting outside. One second she was inside—laughter, music, that awful pink drink dripping from Matt’s face—and the next, she was hunched near the side of the porch, back against the wall, chest heaving like her lungs had decided to revolt.

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her vision blurred. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears—fast, frantic, impossible to quiet.

“Tess?” Willa’s voice cut through the fog. “Oh my god. Hey. Are you okay?” Tessa shook her head. No words. Just panic.

Willa dropped to her knees beside her, trying to reach for her, but Tessa flinched back, chest caving inward like a collapse. Her breath was coming in short, shallow bursts now—too fast, too tight. Her whole body was buzzing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Willa said quickly. “You’re okay, you’re safe—Meghan’s with Alex, he’s handling Matt, but—”

“Willa.” A voice from behind. Calm. Sharp. Conrad. Tessa barely looked up, but she felt the shift in the air. Willa turned, startled. He was already moving.

“I’ve got her,” he said, not loud but firm. “Go help Meghan. She doesn’t want a crowd right now.” Willa hesitated, glancing between them. “I promise,” Conrad added, eyes locked on Tessa. “I’ve got her.” Willa gave a quick nod, then disappeared back toward the house.

He didn’t wait. Conrad dropped to his knees in front of her, lowering himself fast and smooth like he’d done this before. He leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched, just a breath of space between them.

“Tessa.” She couldn’t speak. “Tessa. Look at me.” Her eyes flickered up—just barely—and found his. “Good,” he said softly, but his voice didn’t waver. “You’re here. I’m right here.” Her chest stuttered again.

“Focus on me.” He moved in that last inch until their foreheads pressed together—warm, grounding, solid. “Nothing else. Just me.” Her breath hitched. “Okay,” he murmured, still steady. “I’ve got you.”

She locked onto his eyes—deep blue, steady as the ocean—and held. And something in her lungs shifted. Not fixed. Not full. But enough.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Again. And again. Conrad stayed there with her, forehead to forehead, breathing with her until the world started to rebuild itself around the edges.

She was still shaking, but it wasn’t as sharp now. Just a tremor. Just the aftermath. Tessa pressed her face into his shoulder without thinking, her arms wrapping tight around his hoodie.

He didn’t say anything. Just pulled her in, strong and sure, one arm around her back, the other cradling the back of her head like she might break if he let go too soon. And for the first time all night, she let herself fall apart in silence.

After a minute—or maybe more—she pulled back just slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was…”

“Human,” he said, voice low. “That was human.”

Her lips twitched. “I probably snot-cried on your shirt.”

“You definitely did.” She groaned softly, hiding her face in her hands.

“I don’t care,” he added. “It’s a good shirt. I’ll wear it with pride.” That made her laugh—just a little, just enough to crack the weight in her chest.

Conrad shifted, brushing a loose curl out of her face. “Let me take you home.”

“I can walk.”

“You’re not walking,” he said gently. “You’re coming with me.”

She blinked. “To… your place?”

He nodded once. “You need somewhere quiet. I’ve got extra clothes. And soup. And Steven keeps chamomile tea in my cabinet for reasons unknown.”

Tessa hesitated. Then whispered, “You sure?”

“Always.” And he stood, offering her his hand. She took it.

—————————

The car was quiet. Not awkward quiet. Not tense quiet. Just… thick. Like everything they weren’t saying had climbed into the backseat and buckled itself in.

Tessa curled into the passenger side, hoodie zipped to her chin, Conrad’s blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her knees were drawn up, feet on the seat, hair still a mess from the panic. Her cheeks were blotchy. Her mascara-less lashes were damp. She didn’t look polished or pretty or anything she usually tried to be.

She looked like a girl who’d just been shattered in public. And Conrad couldn’t stop glancing over at her.

Not in a weird way. Not in a predatory way. Just—constant. Subtle. Like he needed to confirm she was still there. Still breathing. The headlights cut through the dark road, casting yellow streaks across her hands as she played with the hem of his hoodie sleeve—like the motion was the only thing keeping her tethered. He tapped the turn signal. She didn’t flinch this time. Progress.

“You good?” he asked softly, just above the hum of the engine.

Tessa nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He nodded back, eyes on the road. “You can sleep if you want.”

“No,” she said too fast. “If I sleep, I’ll wake up right back in that moment.” He didn’t respond. She glanced over at him. “Do you ever do that?”

“What?”

“Relive shit the second you close your eyes?” His grip on the steering wheel tightened, just enough to make the leather creak.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “All the time.” Tessa turned her head to look at him—really look.

Conrad Fisher didn’t offer up pieces of himself often. But when he did, they came in quiet confessions at red lights. No drama. No bravado. Just truth, soft and raw. And God, she realized… she liked him. Not in a harmless crush kind of way.

In the “you’re in my bones now” kind of way. The “I could cry in front of you and still feel safe” kind of way. The “you’re the only one I trust with the pieces of me I usually keep buried” kind of way.

And that terrified her. Because the last time she’d fallen, it had been slow and one-sided. A three-year freefall into Jeremiah’s orbit—laughter and almosts and unspoken boundaries that ended in heartbreak. No one had ever caught her.

But Conrad had seen her break. Had stayed through it. Had held her, forehead to forehead, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now? Now he was driving her home with a blanket in his car and tea in his kitchen and a silence that didn’t feel heavy—it felt sacred. He didn’t speak again until they turned onto his street.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

Tessa hesitated. “I don’t know what I’d even say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She looked at him again, voice barely above a whisper. “Then why do you keep showing up for me?” He pulled into his driveway. Put the car in park. Turned to face her.

And said, “Because I care.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t desperate. Just… real. And it hit her harder than anything Matt or Jeremiah or anyone else had ever said.

Tessa blinked, swallowed hard, and whispered, “Oh.”

Conrad’s mouth twitched like he might smile. But he didn’t push. Didn’t reach for her. Just waited.

She didn’t move, either. Just stared at him, chest rising and falling like she didn’t trust the air around her not to betray her emotions.

And he cared. That was the moment she knew she was in trouble. Because Conrad Fisher had fallen first. And she? She was falling fast.

—————————

The bathroom door creaked open, slow. Conrad didn’t speak right away. He just stood in the frame, watching her from a few feet away like she might bolt.

Tessa was sitting on the closed toilet lid, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, hair clinging to her cheeks. Her fingers were white-knuckled around the edge of the sink. Her eyes flicked up when she heard the door but didn’t hold his.

“I thought you left,” she said, voice cracked and raw.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I’m not going to.”

She nodded once but didn’t move. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, crouching beside her. Not touching—just close enough that she could feel him there.

“You’re safe,” he said gently. “You’re here. With me.” She let out a broken exhale. “Breathe,” he said.

“I am,” she snapped, then winced. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Just breathe.” She did. Once. Twice.

Then she whispered, “I’m not mad that he’s here for the reason you think I am.”

Conrad tilted his head. “Okay… I don’t know what that means.”

Tessa stood up fast, pacing now, blanket trailing off her shoulders like a cape in freefall.

“It means—I’m not mad because he’s with Belly. Or because he’s happy. Or whatever the hell he thinks I’m mad about. I’m mad because…” Her voice cracked again.

Conrad stayed still. “Because why?”

“I don’t want him to ruin this,” she said, quiet but furious.

He blinked. “Okay.”

“No. Not okay.”

She whirled on him, eyes blazing, bare feet quiet against the tile. “Jeremiah always had this thing over me. Like he thought he could control how I felt. Like he knew I’d always be there, waiting. Like the rules didn’t apply because we were whatever we were for too long to define.”

Conrad stayed silent. “And the one fucking time I’m not thinking about him—the one night I just wanted to not feel him in my head—he waltzes back in and makes my horrible night about him.”

She was pacing faster now, chest rising hard. “I didn’t want him. I didn’t want that confrontation. I didn’t want to remember the version of me who let him keep one foot on my heart just in case he ever changed his mind—”

“Tess,” Conrad said softly.

But she was on a roll. “All I wanted to do was—”

She stopped short. His brows lifted. “You wanted to what?” She hesitated. Swallowed hard. “Tessa,” he said, gentle and grounded. “You can say it.”

She met his eyes. “I just wanted to be with you.” It landed like a gut punch—quiet and irreversible.

Conrad didn’t wait. He crossed the space in two steps and wrapped her in his arms, tight and certain, like he’d been holding himself back all night.

And she didn’t hold back this time. She sank into it, her face pressed to his shoulder, hands fisted in his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

It wasn’t just a romantic hug. It was worse. It was intimate. Like she’d just handed him every cracked piece of herself and he hadn’t dropped a single one.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths tangling in the space between them. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” And for one long moment, they just held on.

Then—Knock knock knock.

“Con?” Steven’s voice came through the door. “Everything good?” They sprang apart like guilty teenagers.

“Yeah!” Conrad called back, voice too high.

Tessa pulled the blanket up to her nose, bright red and glaring at the floor. “You sure?”

“We’re fine,” Conrad said. “Just give us a minute.” Steven’s footsteps retreated. Tessa let out a sound between a laugh and a groan.

“I want to die.”

“Please don’t,” Conrad said, brushing a curl from her cheek.

Her blush deepened. “Conrad.”

He smiled. “What?”

She buried her face in the blanket. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She didn’t. God help her, she really didn’t.

—————————

The bedroom door creaked open, and Tessa stepped out with Conrad close behind her. Conversation in the living room paused.

Belly was curled on the far end of the couch, arms crossed, jaw tight. Taylor sat on the floor, legs stretched out under the coffee table, twirling the end of her braid. Steven was standing near the kitchen, pacing slowly. And Jeremiah—

Jeremiah was sitting alone on the armchair, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it might give him answers. It was quiet. Too quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa said softly, like she was trying to smooth the tension from the room with her voice. “For all the drama tonight. I didn’t mean to—”

“Nope,” Taylor said instantly, raising a hand. “Shut that down. You did nothing wrong.” Tessa blinked.

“That guy from the bar,” Belly muttered, glaring daggers at her fiancé, “is what’s wrong.”

Steven snorted. “I swear to god, I would punch him if you’d give me his name.”

Jeremiah didn’t say a word. Just sat there, silent, small. Tessa’s stomach twisted.

“Okay,” she said lightly, trying to reset the room. “Well. This is… fun. But I think I’m just gonna head back to my place.”

“No.” Conrad said it instantly.

She turned toward him. “Con—”

“No,” he said again, firmer. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Tessa gave him a look. “I’m fine. I just—”

“Tess.”

Her name in his voice stopped her short. Not pleading. Not angry. Just… final. A stare-down unfolded in the center of the living room. Everyone watched.

Tessa crossed her arms. “This is very controlling of you.”

“You’ve had a long night.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Then—”

“I’m still not letting you leave.”

She exhaled hard. “Fine. But I’m going to bed.”

He raised one brow. “Fair.” She turned to the group, cheeks flushed. “I’ll see all you peoples in the morning.”

Taylor gave her a dramatic salute. “Sleep like the queen you are.”

Tessa disappeared into Conrad’s room, grabbing her bag on the way. She changed fast, slipping into soft cotton shorts and a worn tank, scrubbing her face in the bathroom until the evidence of the night was mostly gone.

She exhaled. Just one night. One night of peace. Of safety, but when she stepped back into the bedroom, Jeremiah was there.

Sitting on the edge of Conrad’s bed like he belonged there. She froze in the doorway. “Seriously?”

Jer looked up. “We need to talk.” Her stomach dropped.

End Chapter 2.

[lisacameron99]

The Course That Lead Me To You

Chapter 1: Stanford Anatomy 1, Tessa 0

I couldn’t help myself. I’m such a Conrad girly and a team Jeremiah x Belly

Warnings: academic hardship, academic pressure, past Jeremiah fling, frat boy being a butt, idk if there’s anything else

Tessa Jones was going to vomit.

She knew it before her ass even hit the seat. Knew it when she walked into lecture and saw the new stack of graded papers face-down on the corner of the front desk, her name mockingly visible in faded Sharpie. The universe hadn’t even given her the mercy of mystery. Just—bam. Tessa Ann Jones. Front and center. Come claim your academic demise.

“Okay but, like, maybe it’s fine?” Meghan whispered, sliding into the seat beside her and nudging Tessa’s knee with her own. “You said you studied, like, a lot.”

“I did,” Tessa muttered, eyes locked on the pile of paper like it was a crime scene. “I studied so hard I now know exactly how many bones are in the human foot, and also how many times I can cry in a twenty-four-hour window without actually passing out.”

Meghan grimaced. “Oof. Okay, so maybe we just do a little manifestation, yeah?”

Tessa didn’t answer. The professor—Dr. Klein, eternally monotone and always in a vest—was already launching into a PowerPoint about skeletal systems, and the TA standing at the side table was organizing handouts like his life depended on alphabetical order.

Conrad Fisher.

Because of course it was Conrad Fisher. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 9:30 a.m., her dumb luck showed up with floppy brown hair, a Columbia hoodie he absolutely did not attend, and a face that looked like it belonged on a moody HBO drama. Tessa didn’t hate him, exactly. They had co-existed since Cousins summers, always on the periphery of each other’s lives—he’d been the broody older brother, she’d been the girl chasing Jeremiah’s laugh across bonfires.

Now he was her TA.

And now she was failing.

She waited until the class fell into a rhythm of frantic note-taking before quietly slipping her paper off the corner of the desk. She didn’t look at the grade yet—just stared at the orange post-it stuck to the top corner.

See me during office hours.

– Con

No punctuation. No smiley face. Just his name like a dagger.

She finally turned it over.

64%.

Solid D. Devastating. Disgusting. Definitely career-ending.

Psych majors needed an 85 or higher to keep their program standing. Her GPA couldn’t take another hit. And if she dropped this class, she’d have to retake it over summer—which meant no Cousins. No ocean. No dock. No pretending everything was fine.

Her heart stuttered. She pressed the heel of her palm against her sternum.

Meghan leaned over, already scanning the paper. “Okay but like—this is just one test. And you’re not alone. People are bombing this class. Conrad literally said so last week.”

“Yeah, well,” Tessa said under her breath, eyes on her furious scribbled notes, “Conrad Fisher also once tried to surf during a thunderstorm, so excuse me if I don’t trust his judgment.”

Meghan bit back a snort. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“No, I’m not,” Tessa snapped, louder than intended. A few heads turned. She hunched lower in her seat and scribbled hyoid bone = floating bone in neck like it mattered. Like any of it mattered.

Dr. Klein was now pointing to a diagram of the pelvis and muttering about gender differences in structure, and the room was quiet aside from the frantic scratching of pens. Tessa could barely keep up. Every time she tried to refocus, the number burned behind her eyelids.

64.

Her leg bounced under the desk. She gripped her pen tighter.

At the front of the room, Conrad didn’t look at her. He just passed out lab packets with that same unreadable expression he always wore—bored, tired, vaguely annoyed by everyone’s existence.

Good. Let him stay that way. Let him not know that she felt like she was drowning in this class.

—————————

Tessa stirred her iced coffee like it had personally wronged her.

Meghan and Alex sat across from her, mid-brunch sandwich, watching her like she might actually combust. Meghan looked concerned. Alex looked like he was ready to throw hands. Again.

“You’re shaking,” Meghan said gently.

“I’m fine.” Tessa said it like a reflex, not a fact. “I just—can’t eat right now.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had half a granola bar and caffeine since yesterday.”

“Exactly,” Tessa said, stabbing her straw deeper into the ice. “I’m fueling myself with anxiety and pure academic dread. That’s what college is about, right?”

“Wrong,” Meghan said. “College is about having sex with your hot TA and pretending it’s about intellectual curiosity.”

Tessa choked on her coffee. Alex sighed.

“I am not having sex with Conrad Fisher,” she muttered, eyes darting toward the café window like the universe might be listening. “I don’t even like him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Meghan said. “Other than summers and lab packet stress. And if I remember correctly, you once said he had the emotional range of a soggy saltine.”

“Because he does,” Tessa said, instantly defensive. “He literally grades like he’s allergic to joy. And his handwriting? Psychotic.”

Alex held up his hands. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t pass out on the walk to office hours.”

Meghan checked her phone. “That’s in, like, ten minutes. We’ll walk you. You need backup. Academic or emotional—we’re your girl squad.”

Tessa managed half a smile. Meghan was the reason she hadn’t dropped the class already. Alex, somehow, had become her emotional support frat brother. Together, they were the only reason she hadn’t completely unraveled.

They stood to leave, and Tessa threw her mostly-full coffee in the trash. She’d regret that later. She always did.

They barely made it three steps outside before fate decided to make her Tuesday worse.

“Hey, Tess.”

The voice was like a shot of ice water to the spine. She turned before she could stop herself.

Matt.

Tall. Tan. Smug in a way that used to make her feel chosen. He had that freshly-showered-athlete look going on, backpack slung over one shoulder, confidence oozing like it never broke her heart.

“Didn’t know you were still alive,” he said with a smirk.

Tessa blinked. “Didn’t know you still had a functioning conscience.”

Meghan’s eyebrows shot up. Alex made a low noise of warning in the back of his throat.

Matt laughed like she’d made a joke instead of a dig. “Still feisty. You look good.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m late for something.”

“Come on, stay a sec. Haven’t seen you since…” He trailed off. Like he wanted her to fill in the blanks. She didn’t.

Tessa turned her body slightly away, toward Meghan. “Let’s go.”

But Matt wasn’t done. He stepped forward, too close. “What, still mad I didn’t want to do the whole couple thing? You knew what it was, babe.”

Babe.

Tessa’s stomach turned.

“You’re right,” she said. “I did. And now I know it was a complete waste of mascara.”

Meghan gasped. Alex snorted. Matt’s face twisted.

Then he did the thing.

The subtle, petty, douchebag thing.

He shouldered into her just hard enough to make her stumble—like it was an accident—and her coffee cup, hooked onto her backpack strap, tilted sideways and poured right down the zipper.

Cold. Sticky. Everywhere.

“Matt, what the actual fuck?” Meghan snapped.

“Watch it, man,” Alex growled, stepping in front of Tessa like a wall. “She said she was leaving.”

Matt didn’t even look back. “Should’ve watched her mouth,” he muttered, disappearing into the crowd like the coward he was.

Tessa stared at the sidewalk. She could feel the coffee seeping through the fabric. Her notes. Her folders. Her fucking laptop. It was soaking through.

“I—I think—” Her voice cracked.

“Tess, babe, breathe.” Meghan was already tugging at the zipper, helping her get the bag off.

Alex handed her a napkin from his back pocket. “We’ll fix it, okay?”

But her eyes burned. Her throat closed. She’d been holding it together since 9:30 and now… this.

“I have to go,” she whispered, brushing their hands away gently. “I have to meet Conrad. He said 11:30. I can’t be late. I’m already failing.”

“Tessa,” Meghan said, voice soft.

But she was already turning. Already walking fast, coffee-soaked bag slapping against her hip. She didn’t have time to cry.

—————————

The library room wasn’t even a real office.

Just four glass walls and a rickety table that looked like it had survived a decade of undergrad meltdowns. The chairs squeaked. The whiteboard in the corner said YOU ARE ENOUGH in faded blue cursive, and honestly? It felt like a lie.

Tessa dropped into the seat across from Conrad and set her coffee-soaked backpack on the table with a damp, pathetic splat. Her leggings clung to her thigh where the fabric hadn’t dried yet, cold and sticky against her skin.

Conrad looked up from his laptop, pen resting between his fingers. “You’re late.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “Three minutes. Calm down.”

He didn’t argue. Just clicked his pen once, grabbed her test from the pile beside him, and flipped it open like a surgeon going in.

“You’re sitting at a sixty-four. You need to get that to an eighty to pass.”

Tessa let out a breath that felt like it took everything in her. “Eighty-five.”

That made him pause. His gaze lifted slowly.

“I’m a psych major,” she explained. “Program minimum’s eighty-five. So… I’m actually more screwed than you thought.”

Conrad didn’t speak right away. He just set the paper down gently, leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. His expression wasn’t cold. If anything, it looked like concern was trying to sneak its way through the cracks in his usual detachment.

“Okay,” he said. “Then we start now.”

Tessa blinked. “Just like that?”

“You’re here,” he said simply. “Means you’re trying.”

“Barely,” she muttered.

“I don’t take attendance,” he replied. “But I do take effort.”

Her throat tightened. She stared down at her folder, which had soaked through completely. A sticky coffee ring was forming beneath it.

Conrad’s eyes tracked it. “Your bag’s soaked.”

“Yeah.”

“Your leggings too?”

“Yep.”

“What happened?”

It wasn’t just the question—it was the tone. Not nosy. Not annoyed. Just soft. Direct. Like it mattered. Like she mattered.

Tessa kept her eyes on her hands. Her voice wobbled.

“I’m not doing well in this class.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t usually do poorly in classes,” she said quickly. “I have a 3.9 GPA. I color-code my notes. I don’t procrastinate, I don’t bomb tests, and I definitely don’t cry about failing. Except—apparently—now I do.”

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t say well, this class is hard for everyone, or maybe you should study more, or sorry, but we all have problems. He just waited.

“I’ve been trying,” she went on, breath hitching. “I’ve watched every lecture twice, made flashcards, joined a study group that doesn’t even help, and my laptop might be fried now because Matt decided to be a dick and ‘accidentally’ bumped into me, which spilled my coffee all over everything—”

“Matt?”

Tessa sighed. “Rebound. Flirty. Now weirdly entitled and rude.”

Conrad’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“He got mad I wasn’t flirting back,” she muttered. “Shoulder checked me hard enough my coffee went flying. Meghan and Alex were there, though. Alex is in the same frat—he’s got seniority, he’ll handle it.”

“Did he touch you?”

Tessa looked up.

“Matt,” Conrad clarified. “Did he shove you?”

“Not hard. Just enough to make it suck.”

He nodded slowly, the muscle in his jaw tight again.

“Don’t get that face,” she said, pointing. “That’s your ‘I’m going to casually end someone’s bloodline’ face.”

His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. “It’s not.”

“It is. Steven got that face from you.”

Another silence stretched between them. It wasn’t awkward. Just… loaded.

Tessa looked down again. She felt heavy. Sticky. Tired. Like everything was pressing in all at once.

Then Conrad said, “Let’s go to your place.”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“You need dry clothes. And a charger. And probably food.”

“You—you want to come to my place?”

“I want to help you pass this class,” he said, voice low but steady. “And I want you to be comfortable while we do it. You’re sitting in cold leggings with wet notes and a fried laptop. That’s not exactly an ideal study environment.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

“I’m your TA, yeah,” he added. “But we’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m not some stranger.”

Tessa stared at him, genuinely stunned. Conrad Fisher—resident brick wall of emotional distance—was offering to leave the library and sit at her tiny apartment table with her dog-eared psych notes and a pile of soggy flashcards just so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable anymore.

“…Okay,” she said finally. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He nodded once, standing and slipping his laptop into his bag. “Text Meghan. Let her know you’re not dead.”

“I think she assumes I’ve been kidnapped by you, actually.”

He glanced sideways at her as he held the door open. “She should be so lucky.”

Tessa snorted, grabbing her ruined bag and following him out.

And for the first time in two weeks, her chest didn’t feel like it was caving in.

—————————

The library study room had nothing on the soft clutter of Tessa’s apartment.

Her backpack hit the floor with a dull thunk, still soaked through and leaking bitter coffee against the hardwood. She kicked off her sneakers by the door and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing when it came away sticky.

“Meghan’s at Alex’s,” she said over her shoulder. “So it’s just us.”

Conrad nodded from behind her, already setting up his notes at the coffee table like it was no big deal. But his gaze flicked around the room—quietly, observantly—like he couldn’t help taking it all in.

“I’m gonna go change,” Tessa added, tugging at her sweatshirt sleeve. “You can sit wherever. Just ignore the throw pillows. Meghan thinks she’s a maximalist now.”

Conrad didn’t respond, but he was already unzipping his bag and pulling out his neatly rubber-banded anatomy notes like he’d been preparing for this moment all day.

Tessa ducked into her room and stripped fast. The sticky cold of the spilled coffee clung to her skin like regret. She tossed her hoodie, leggings, and the coffee-drenched backpack straight into the washer and slammed the lid shut like she was sealing it all away.

She tugged on a pair of soft black lounge shorts and a gray “Cousins Beach Lifeguard” t-shirt that had been hers since high school—worn in, slightly oversized, and better than anything new. She twisted her hair into a messy bun, shoved her feet into socks, and called it good enough.

When she stepped back out, Conrad was crouched in front of the coffee table, notes organized into piles and her laptop already open beside him. He glanced up when he heard her.

And he looked.

Not in a creepy way. Not even a flirty way. Just—like he saw her, and it stunned him for a second.

“Your laptop works,” he said, holding it up slightly. “Didn’t get hit.”

Relief spread through her chest like warmth. “Thank god.”

“Your notebook and binder didn’t make it, though,” he added, nodding toward the laundry room. “I found an extra one in my bag. You can use it for now.”

She blinked. “You carry extra notebooks?”

“Leftover from last semester,” he said, looking back down at his notes. “Didn’t throw it out.”

Tessa hesitated, then dropped into the armchair across from him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t answer, but he shifted to give her more space, pushing the extra notebook toward her gently. She picked up a pen and opened it while he flipped to a section in the textbook already bookmarked.

“You okay sitting like that?” he asked after a second. “You want a blanket or something?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded once, no argument. “Okay. Let’s go back to your test.”

They worked in silence, her scribbling in the new notebook while he explained the structure of the femur and how she’d confused the tibia with the fibula.

“I was tired,” she groaned, halfway through labeling a diagram.

“You labeled the rib cage ‘shin bone,’” he replied, deadpan.

“Shit happens, Fisher.”

“I’m starting to realize that.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

After a while, she leaned back and glanced at him. “You’re actually really good at this.”

“At what?”

“Teaching,” she said. “Explaining stuff. You make it make sense.”

He didn’t look up. “I do alright.”

“You do better than alright.”

Now he looked at her.

“You’re not bad at this either,” he said. “You just don’t learn the way they expect you to.”

She raised a brow. “Oh? And how do I learn?”

“You talk things out. You remember weird mnemonics. You like connections. Cause and effect.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“I have to,” he said. “You’re my student.”

She hummed like she didn’t believe him. “Right.”

But when she turned back to her notes, she didn’t miss the way he watched her for one extra beat.

—————————

Tessa Jones was officially in trouble. Not in a test-failing, GPA-spiraling, laptop-frying kind of way this time. That storm had passed. No—this was something quieter. Slower. The kind of trouble that crept up on you with bare feet and warm laughter and a stupidly steady presence that sat across from you on your living room floor and made anatomy diagrams feel like comfort food.

It was week nine of the semester. Two weeks post-midterms. She’d scraped a B+ on the exam—barely—but it was enough to keep her afloat. Enough to keep the program director off her back and let her breathe again.

And somehow, in between the flashcards and the venti iced chai breakdowns and the half-baked dinner study nights, Conrad Fisher had become her friend.

Like… a real friend. Not a TA. Not just Jeremiah’s older brother. Not the moody, unreadable boy from Cousins Beach who once spent an entire Fourth of July watching the fireworks with his headphones in.

He texted her random anatomy mnemonics during class. He brought her a bagel once when they had an early study session because she “looked like someone who forgot to eat and wouldn’t admit it.” He didn’t ask her stupid questions or try to fix her when she spiraled—he just… sat with her until it passed.

And now here they were, on her living room floor again, notebooks spread across the carpet, both of them in hoodies and socks, the TV low in the background playing some documentary neither of them were paying attention to.

Tessa was pretending to highlight. She was actually watching him from under her lashes. Shit. I like him. The thought was sudden, stupid, and utterly unhelpful. But there it was. And once it surfaced, it wouldn’t shut up.

You like the way he talks to you. You like the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. You like the way you feel when he says your name like it’s just his to say. And worse—you trust him.

Which was dangerous. Because the last time she liked someone, it was Jeremiah. And before she even had the guts to ask for more, he turned his smile toward someone else.

And the time before that, it was Matt. Who acted like liking her back was some favor he never wanted to give. Her knee started bouncing. Fast. Repetitive. That familiar rhythm of nerves she couldn’t untangle.

Conrad didn’t look up from the page he was annotating. “You’re gonna shake the coffee table to death.”

She smiled without meaning to. “Sorry.”

“You always bounce when you’re thinking too hard.”

“Is that a diagnosis?”

“No,” he said, finally glancing up. “Just a well-informed observation.”

She looked at him for a long moment. His hair was a mess. His hoodie had a bleach stain on the sleeve. There was a smudge of pen ink on his wrist from flipping pages too fast. He was beautiful. And steady. And the only boy who hadn’t disappointed her in a long time.

She heard herself say, “Why haven’t you asked me about Jeremiah?” That got his full attention. His pen stilled. His eyes met hers.

He hesitated. “Didn’t want to pry.” She didn’t say anything. Just held his gaze. He exhaled, slow. “Okay. I didn’t want it to be weird.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I guess…” His voice was lower now. “I just figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.”

Tessa bit her lip. Her knee started bouncing again. She hated that her body betrayed her before she could decide what she wanted. Conrad didn’t speak. Just watched her. Then he reached across the space between them and rested a hand gently on her knee. Warm. Steady.

“Tess,” he said quietly. “Stop.” Her breath caught. “It’s just me.” His fingers curled slightly against her leg. “Tell me when you’re ready.” Then he added, soft but sure: “I’ll wait.”

And just like that—every wall she’d been rebuilding since the last boy broke her heart cracked, just a little. Because Conrad Fisher wasn’t asking her to be okay. He was staying long enough for her to decide if she wanted to let him in.

End Part 1.

[lisacameron99]

The One With The Kingdom of the Blind

Warnings: emotional breakdown, discussions of trauma, family conflict, deception, PTSD symptoms, mentions of psychological manipulation, anxiety, A-related threats **this is a long one but I didn't know where to break it, so enjoy this long part!**

The doors slid open. Hanna came out first, laughing at something Noel had said about Mona’s current comatose state. She stopped short when she saw them. Justin stood by the car, arms folded. Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable.

Lily was next to him, leaning against the passenger door, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up, expression carved from marble.

Too still. Too quiet. Noel slowed. “Shit.”

Justin’s voice was calm, too calm. “Language.”

Hanna tried to smile. “Okay. You’re mad. We get it. But it wasn’t—”

“No,” Justin said sharply. “You don’t get to say it wasn’t like that. You went to see Mona. The girl who tormented Lily. The girl who drugged Emily. The one who made our lives hell. You went. Together. And you didn’t tell anyone.”

His eyes cut to Noel. “You followed her in. You didn’t stop her. You didn’t warn us.”

“I didn’t know she was actually going to—” Noel started.

“You didn’t walk away,” Justin snapped. “You sat down. You looked her in the eye. You let her win.”

Noel went quiet. Still, Lily said nothing.

“Lil?” Hanna offered, voice smaller now. “You maybe wanna say something?”

Lily looked up, finally. Her eyes didn’t burn. They froze. Hanna took a step back.

Noel tried. “Babe—”

“No,” Lily said softly. “Don’t ‘babe’ me.” That hurt more than yelling would have. “You don’t get that right today.” The silence after that was thick. Suffocating.

“I’m not mad you went,” Lily added. “I’m mad you didn’t think about what that would do. To me. To Emily. To all of us.”

Neither Hanna nor Noel moved. “Get in the car,” Justin said. “We’ll figure out what happens next at home.”

They obeyed. Lily slid behind the wheel. No music. No words. And that’s how they knew— This wasn’t just about Mona. This was about trust. And how fast it can disappear.

——————————

The front door opened. Lily walked in first. She didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up. She moved like she was underwater—silent, slow, like her limbs didn’t belong to her anymore. Mark looked up from the kitchen. He froze.

Ashley, already at the table with a stack of napkins, caught the shift in the room like a thunderclap.

Hanna stepped in behind Lily, then Noel. Then Justin.

But Lily didn’t stop walking until she reached the kitchen threshold. She saw her dad. And whatever wall had been holding her together—whatever steel she’d braced herself with in the car—buckled.

“Daddy,” she whispered, barely audible.

Mark was already there. He crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around her before she could fall apart.

She didn’t sob.bIt wasn’t loud. But the sound that came out of her—somewhere between a gasp and a broken breath—hit hard enough to knock the air out of the room.

“Oh, Lily Bean…” Mark whispered, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

She buried her face in his chest. Shoulders shaking. Hands clutching his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

Justin didn’t even look back. He turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs. Two at a time. His bedroom door slammed so hard the walls vibrated.

Lizzy appeared in the hallway. “What the—” She stopped cold. Her eyes moved from Justin’s door to Lily folded into Mark’s arms, to Noel and Hanna frozen in the doorway like ghosts who’d seen their own graves.

Mark looked up. Straight at them.bHe didn’t yell. Didn’t ask what they did. He just looked. Like he already knew. Noel’s face went blank.bHanna’s eyes welled, but she blinked it back. Tried to stand taller. Failed.

Ashley’s voice was low. Firm. “Hanna. Noel. Come with me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. They followed without a word, the sound of their footsteps too loud in the quiet. 

Mark didn’t let go. Lily didn’t lift her head. Lizzy hesitated for a moment, one hand on the banister.

“I’ll go to him,” she said softly.

Mark nodded, jaw tight. She disappeared upstairs. The house was full of people. But somehow, it still felt like something had shattered. And no one knew how to put it back together.

——————————

The house had settled into the kind of quiet that felt loaded.

Not peaceful. Just waiting.

Mark stepped out of Lily’s room first, closing the door slowly behind him. His shirt was wrinkled. His hair was a little messier than usual. Olive padded out behind him, curling up on the hallway rug like she was keeping watch.

Down the hall, Lizzy emerged too—softer, slower. She shut Justin’s door gently, the familiar sound of Pepper’s tags jingling as he stayed curled up at Justin’s feet.

They met halfway.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t have to.

Together, they made their way downstairs, past the shadows, into the low light of the living room where Ashley sat between Hanna and Noel on opposite ends of the couch.

Hanna was curled up, knees pulled to her chest, tears dried on her cheeks but still fresh in her eyes.

Noel stared at the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole.

Mark didn’t sit.

He stood just past the edge of the coffee table. Crossed his arms. Looked at them both.

“I’m asking once,” he said quietly. “And only once.”

A pause.

“What the hell did you two do to piss both of them off?”

Hanna let out a small breath and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Noel hesitated. Shoulders tense. Mouth tight.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“We went to see Mona,” he said. “She’s… coming out of it. Talking again. Like, actually talking. Clear. Coherent.”

Ashley didn’t move.

Mark’s jaw ticked.

“I didn’t want Hanna to go alone,” Noel continued, voice tight. “And—I needed to see it for myself. It wasn’t supposed to be about Lily or Justin. I mean—it was. Of course it was. But it was about all of us, too.”

He exhaled. Finally looked up.

“Everybody talks about Lily’s trauma. Which is real and valid and so much. But we all carry shit from that year. Different shit. And I think—I think we needed to face it.”

Hanna sniffled again. “We thought it might help.”

Mark rubbed a hand down his face, dragging the tired out of his skin.

Lizzy didn’t say anything. She turned and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“I’ll make tea,” she called gently.

Ashley finally shifted. Her voice was calm. Collected. But her eyes were sharp.

“What you did wasn’t unforgivable,” she said, glancing between the two of them. “And your reasons make sense. They do.”

She looked at Noel. “But so do their reactions.”

“I just—” Noel rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t keep walking on eggshells. I needed this. For me.”

Mark finally sat. Not relaxed. Just grounded.

“Kid,” he said, voice low. “I get that. I do.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“But you need to communicate with them. You’re family. And in this family, we talk. We don’t lie. We don’t sneak off to psych wards and then act shocked when it hurts someone.”

He let that sit.

“You don’t have to apologize for needing something. But you do need to apologize for how you went about it. You owe them that.”

Noel nodded. Slow. Ashamed.

Hanna reached for a tissue.

Ashley gave her hand a small squeeze.

From the kitchen, the kettle began to whistle.

The house stayed quiet.

But it felt less like breaking.

And more like maybe—just maybe—it could bend without falling apart.

—————————

The kitchen smelled like coffee and toast. The light was soft, not quite golden yet. Mark stood by the stove, flipping something in a pan. Lizzy moved quietly behind him, pouring orange juice. Pepper was curled under the table. Noel leaned against the counter, dressed for school but not moving to leave.

Justin was halfway through a banana, clearly not awake enough to be civil.

No one was really speaking.

Until Lily came in.

She didn’t say anything at first—just walked slow, her socks sliding slightly on the tile, her sleeves pulled over her hands. Her hair was a mess. Her face pale. Eyes rimmed with exhaustion.

Olive padded in behind her, still damp from her morning trip outside. She brushed against Lily’s leg like she could feel it too.

Mark turned. “Hey, Lily Bean.”

Lily blinked slowly. “My head hurts.”

Lizzy was already moving toward her. “How bad?”

“Not migraine bad,” Lily mumbled, rubbing her temple, “but… I can’t think straight. I’m supposed to have a test today. AP Gov. I studied and everything.”

The frustration bled through her voice. She sounded tired. Worn.

Lizzy didn’t hesitate. “I’ll call the school. Tell them you’re sick. Go back to bed.”

“But the test—”

“Will wait,” Lizzy said firmly. “You won’t fail one test because your body needs rest.”

Lily didn’t argue.

She just nodded.

And hugged her mom.

Noel shifted behind them, guilt weighing heavier by the second.

“Thanks,” Lily whispered, already turning back toward the stairs. “C’mon, Olive.”

The dog followed instantly. Pepper looked up from under the table, then trotted out to catch up, tail swishing.

Justin and Noel stood there.

The kitchen was quiet again.

Noel opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then: “Can I stay home too?”

Mark didn’t even look up from the eggs. “Nice try. Let’s go.”

Noel sighed, grabbed his backpack.

They walked out together, side by side, until they hit the car. Justin headed toward the driver’s side. Noel didn’t follow.

“Hey,” he said.

Justin paused, keys in hand.

“I’m sorry,” Noel said. “For lying. For not telling you. About Radley.”

Justin turned, leaned against the hood. “We don’t lie.”

“I know.”

“We don’t hide shit.”

“I know.”

“Especially not about Radley,” Justin added, quieter now. More pointed.

Noel didn’t look away. “I wasn’t trying to screw you over. I just didn’t know how to talk about it. I didn’t want it to feel like we were blaming Lily or something. That wasn’t it.”

Justin nodded once. Sharp. Clipped.

“It’s whatever now,” he said. “But next time? Just be honest.”

Noel nodded.

Then finally walked to the passenger side.

Justin got in.

The car pulled out of the driveway in silence.

————————

Lily hadn’t really slept.

She’d drifted—half-asleep, half-in-pain, the pressure behind her eyes a steady, low drumbeat that refused to break. Her body felt heavy. Unreliable. Her thoughts louder than her heartbeat.

Olive was curled against the bottom of the bed, warm and steady. Pepper, perched delicately near her hip, flicked her tail with quiet judgment every few minutes—watchful and still.

She hadn’t touched her phone.

She hadn’t wanted to.

So when the knock came, Lily didn’t answer.

“Lil?” Aria’s voice was soft. Gentle in a way that didn’t push. “It’s just me.”

The door opened a second later.

Aria peeked in—messy braid, cozy cardigan, a familiar hardcover tucked under one arm and a pale pink thermos in her hand.

“Your mom said you were up,” she said softly. “I brought chamomile tea. And this.”

She held up Little House on the Prairie.

Lily blinked.

Her chest ached.

“You remembered,” she whispered.

“Of course I did,” Aria said, making her way in. “You used to read it whenever you couldn’t sleep. Or when you were sad. Or when the world felt heavy.”

She set the tea on the nightstand. Sat on the edge of the bed. Didn’t try to get too close.

Lily reached for the thermos, held it in both hands like it might anchor her.

She didn’t drink.

She just stared at it.

And then, quietly—barely audible—

“Will you stay?”

Aria didn’t smile right away.

She didn’t tease.

She just nodded like she’d already decided.

“Of course. I was going to anyway.”

She leaned back, pulled her laptop from her bag, and curled her legs under her. “I’ve got a story due for my writing class,” she said. “I figured I’d work from here if that’s okay. I won’t talk. You don’t have to either.”

Lily gave the smallest nod. Then she picked up Little House, opened it to the first page, and sank back against the pillow. Pepper didn’t move, only curled closer. Olive shifted to press against Lily’s leg like she knew the exact weight of what Lily was holding.

And Aria typed—quiet, soft keystrokes and nothing else. No fixing. No explaining. Just one friend reading an old story. And the other staying without needing to be asked again.

—————————

crazies (ft. 2 siblings, a boyfriend, and a best friend)

(Justin, Lily, Hanna, Noel)

Lily

hi

i just wanted to say i’m sorry again

for everything yesterday

i’ve been sitting with it and

i think part of why i reacted the way i did was because it wasn’t just about mona

it was that you both told me you weren’t going

and then you did

and i found out like an idiot

and that felt like betrayal

even if it wasn’t meant to be

and i think the worst part is that

you’re two of the only people who don’t lie to me

so when it happens it feels like

i don’t know

like i can’t trust the floor under me

also

i feel dumb for being sick today

like i studied

i prepped

i had my stupid vitamins

and my body still bailed on me

twice now

and i hate that

i hate that i feel so fragile all the time

like my body’s constantly trying to prove i can’t trust it either

like it’s always breaking when i need it to hold

ok that’s all for now

Noel

hey

don’t talk shit about my favorite person

she’s doing the best she can

even if she has a bitchy nervous system

Lily

stopppppppppppppp

you’re gonna make me blush

Noel

even when I don’t got it

i still got it 😏

Hanna

i am

very much

intruding on an extremely intimate moment and i am uncomfy

Justin

try living with them

Hanna

ok wait

justin

i’m actually sorry for every time i made fun of you about them

i see it now

Justin

it’s fine

lily walked in on me and asher once so i’ve gotten my karmic retribution

Lily

JUSTIN JAMES GREY

WE AGREED

TO NEVER TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN

Justin

you agreed

i didn’t

best sex of my life

until you opened the door and screamed and then slammed it while yelling “MY EYES” on repeat

Lily

LALALALALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU

DEAD

I AM DEAD

DECEASED

Noel

lol hanna

this is my life

every day

24/7

Hanna

i don’t even know who i feel bad for anymore

probably mark

and lizzy

they did not deserve this

Justin

dad walked in on me once too

he handled it better than lily tbh

Lily

OH MY GOD

I AM LOGGING OFF

PERMANENTLY

———————————

The hum of the engine filled the silence. Justin had the windows cracked, one hand on the wheel, eyes locked on the road like he was trying to outrun the weirdness still lingering between them.

Noel sat stiff in the passenger seat. Seatbelt twisted. Jaw tight.

His phone buzzed.

He didn’t check it right away.

Another buzz.

He glanced down.

Blocked number.

He unlocked it.

unknown, 4:07 PM

Funny how the strong ones always crack the loudest.

Maybe she’s not as okay as you think.

Maybe she never was.

–A

Noel’s grip on the phone went white-knuckled. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Justin clocked it immediately. “What?” No answer. “Noel.” Nothing. “I swear to god—” Justin’s voice cut out as he glanced sideways. Saw the way Noel was staring at his screen. “Hey. What is it?”

Still nothing. Justin slammed on the blinker and veered off the road onto a gravel turnout. The tires crunched loud. The car jolted slightly as he parked hard. He turned in his seat. “Give it.” Noel didn’t move. “Noel. I’m not asking.” With a frustrated exhale, Noel shoved the phone into Justin’s hand.

Justin read the message. His face didn’t change much. Just drained. Then: “Well fuck this.” Noel still didn’t speak. He stared out the windshield like if he looked anywhere else, he might scream. Justin’s voice was quieter now. “You okay?”

“She’s not,” Noel said, voice clipped. “That’s the problem.”

Justin didn’t argue. Didn’t offer a fix. Just sat there with him, the message still glowing on the phone between them. The air felt colder than it had five minutes ago.

—————————

The lights in the hallway buzzed faintly overhead, that kind of sterile hum that felt more like a warning than background noise. Nurses moved like ghosts past Room 214. No one looked twice.

Spencer moved quickly, heels quiet against the tile. She didn’t turn around when she whispered, “You’re sure your dad isn’t on call?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “He’s in the OR until midnight. I checked the board. Twice.”

She reached the door. Hesitated, but decided she needed to go through with her plan. Inside, Garrett’s mom lay still in her bed, oxygen tube in place, arms slack over the blanket. One hand—her left—was curled into a loose fist on top of her stomach.

Spencer glanced down the hallway. Justin stepped in first.

“Give me sixty seconds,” she said, already moving toward the bed.

The room was dim but not dark. Machines blinked quietly. It smelled like antiseptic and old flowers. “Left wrist,” Spencer muttered. Justin moved to the opposite side of the bed, scanning.

Spencer reached gently beneath the hospital bracelet. Her fingers brushed something paper-thin, folded. Taped to the underside like someone had meant for it to be found—but only by the right person.

She slipped it free. Unfolded it. And there it was.

“April Rose has the proof.”

Spencer stared at the handwriting like it might rearrange itself if she just kept looking.

“Spence,” Justin said. She didn’t move. He took the note from her hands—careful, quiet. Folded it once. Then again. Slipped it into his back pocket. “We’re not leaving it here.”

Spencer nodded. “She was trying to pass it to someone.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “But now it’s ours.”

They didn’t say another word. Spencer took one last glance at the woman in the bed. Then they slipped back into the hallway like shadows. No one stopped them. But both of them felt it— The truth wasn’t buried. It was waiting.

————————

The locker room was half-empty, the after-practice noise fading into damp silence. Emily sat on the bench in front of her open locker, hair still dripping, towel forgotten in her lap. Lily peeled off her knee pads nearby, glancing over when she felt the shift in the air.

“I remembered something,” Emily murmured, not looking at her. “From that night.”

Lily stilled. “What night?”

“The grave. The night I blacked out.”

She said it like it was no big deal, like they were talking about a test they’d forgotten to study for. But Lily felt her skin prickle.

“I don’t know if I was actually there,” Emily continued, voice low. “It’s more like a flicker. Like�� I was near the grave, and someone else was there, standing behind me.”

Lily didn’t move. “Did you see who it was?”

“No,” Emily said. “Just… the hair. Long. Blonde.” She finally turned, met Lily’s eyes. “It wasn’t Ali. I don’t think.”

Lily’s breath caught. Just for a second. She looked down, busying herself with rolling her socks. “Could’ve been anyone,” she said quietly. “Your memory’s been messed with before.”

Emily didn’t argue. “It just felt… wrong. Like they weren’t supposed to be there.”

Lily’s mind spun—Lizzy. That night. Crying in the kitchen with her hair down, saying she was “just tired.” Lily had believed her. Had wanted to believe her.

And now—She forced the thought away. “Maybe your brain’s filling in the blanks,” she said gently. “Trying to make sense of something senseless.”

Emily leaned against her shoulder without a word. Lily let her. She didn’t say she was terrified Emily had seen her mother. She just wrapped her arm around Emily’s shoulders and held her there, quietly hating the silence in her own chest.

—————————-

[lisacameron99]

The One With Blood Is The New BlAck Part 2

warnings: emotional vulnerability, relationship tension, grief recovery, group chat confrontation, passive aggression, reference to past miscarriage, gaslighting by A, unsettling text content from A bc A's a bitch

iykyk, 6:27 PM

Hanna

i should’ve slapped her

i should’ve done it

right in front of the vending machine

Spencer

You’re still talking about Jenna?

Aria

she looked in the mirror like she was starring in a YSL commercial

fully confident

no struggle

Caleb

i hate that more than i hate mona 

which actually should say something about me

Justin

it 100% does but i am here for it so i’m not judging

Emily

yeah but—has anyone actually heard from Lily since school ended?

Hanna

she’s home

but she’s quiet

like… Grey sibling level quiet

Spencer

She barely spoke in eighth. I offered her a pen and she said “thanks” and looked like she might cry

Aria

her chai was full

i repeat: full.

Lily

i just wasn’t thirsty

Emily

you don’t have to say anything

we’re just worried

Noel

i know i messed up

i’m not pretending i didn’t

Spencer

HISTORIC

adding this to my “men admitting fault” collection

Asher

okay what the hell happened

someone give me the summary version

i’m an hour away and emotionally invested

Hanna

he tried

she panicked

he got quiet

she got quieter

now she’s sad and he’s spiraling

the end

Caleb

he misread it

it happens

just sucks when it happens to one of our favorite people

Emily

Noel, have you even talked to her since?

Noel

not really

i figured she needed space

Justin

she didn’t

she needed you

and you left her alone

Emily

hey. ease up.

we don’t know the whole picture

Justin

i do

she’s been in her room since 3:50

hasn’t even acknowledged Olive

do you know how emotionally devastating that is??

Noel

she loves that dog more than literally everyone

Asher

except you

don’t be stupid

Hanna

no one else gets to call her “sweetheart” and live

Spencer

or wear her scrunchies and survive unless you are Emily or Noel

Emily

look—everyone just needs to breathe

this isn’t about sides

they both love each other

they’re both hurting

go easy, okay?

Justin

trying

but she’s gone quiet again

and that terrifies me more than anything

Lily

can we not

just for tonight

please?

can we just stop psychoanalyzing me

please

Aria

okay. soft mode engaged.

Hanna

i’m still mad at jenna

but okay

—————————

da boiz, 6:43 PM

Justin

okay no offense

but what the actual fuck was that back there

Noel

what do you want me to say?

i already admitted i messed up

Justin

yeah. in front of everyone.

with zero context.

you kissed her this morning and then what? thought a study hall makeout would solve trauma?

Noel

it wasn’t about that

it wasn’t about hooking up

Asher

we know. but you kinda left it wide open in the group chat

help us out here

Noel

i just wanted to give her something that felt like before

like maybe if it felt normal, she’d feel okay again

for a minute

Toby

she didn’t

not after

Caleb

yeah. she looked shattered by sixth

and by seventh she wasn’t even pretending to listen to lectures

it wasn’t just misreading the moment, dude

it was breaking it

Noel

you think i don’t know that now?

you think i didn’t see her walk past me in eighth like i wasn’t even there?

Justin

you didn’t talk to her

you could’ve

you didn’t

Noel

i didn’t know what to say

and i didn’t want to make it worse

Caleb

from one twisted brother to another

not not talking to her?

that’s worse than saying the wrong thing

Asher

and bro

she didn’t touch Olive

she walked past Olive

Toby

that’s like code red level Lily grief

Justin

she told us all to back off in iykyk

but she didn’t tell you to

she’s waiting for you and you’re doing nothing

Noel

i’m scared if i go to her now, she’ll just… shut down

or hate me for real this time

i don’t want to be one more thing she has to survive

Justin

you’re not supposed to be another thing

you’re supposed to be her person

Asher

you love her

then act like it

Caleb

go.

say the wrong thing.

be messy.

just show up

Toby

before she stops hoping you will

—————————

The knock was soft. Barely there. Lily didn’t answer. She stayed curled beneath her blanket, the textbook open but untouched on her lap, her iced chai now half-warm on the nightstand beside her. Her phone buzzed twice, and she didn’t even look.

Then the door creaked open. Carefully. Like the person on the other side was still deciding whether they had a right to come in.

Noel stepped inside, arms full.He was holding Olive. Correction: he was holding a very grumpy Olive, who clearly didn’t appreciate being picked up like a grocery bag but tolerated it because… well. It was Noel. And she was loyal.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

Lily didn’t speak. Olive spotted her and made a sound—half-whine, half-growl—and wriggled until Noel let her down. She immediately scrambled onto the bed and nudged Lily’s face with her nose, whining louder now, like how dare you ignore me for six hours I am devastated and starving and unloved and I only peed once today. Lily blinked fast. Her hands came up, immediately wrapping around Olive’s face.

“Oh my sweet baby girl,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Mama didn’t mean to ignore you. I love you so much.”

Olive licked her cheek once and then flopped dramatically across her lap like the wounded child she was. Lily buried her face in her fur and let herself breathe for the first time all day. Noel stayed by the door for a second, then cleared his throat.

“I also, um… brought a triple chocolate fudge brownie from The Brew. Frosted. Sprinkled with powdered sugar.” He held up the little takeout box. “And a decaf iced chai. Caramel drizzle. Caramel cold foam. You know. Fancy.”

Lily looked up, wary. Not cold—just tired.

“I can’t tonight, Noel.”

He nodded. Didn’t flinch. “That’s fine,” he said. “I brought my stupid English book. Thought maybe I could read in here. If that’s okay.”

Her eyes flicked toward the spot beside her. Then toward the untouched textbook on her lap.

“…I haven’t started on my history reading.”

“I brought that too,” he said, gently offering her the book from his bag.

She took it. Moved over slightly. Nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”

He settled beside her, not too close, but not far either. Olive stayed between them, head on Lily’s thigh, tail thumping once in approval.

They read quietly for a while. Not talking. Just… existing.

Eventually, Lily leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. Her breath came out slow, steadier now. “I didn’t need the cold foam,” she murmured.

Noel didn’t look up from his book. “I know,” he said. “But you wanted it.”

She smiled, barely. “I really do love Olive more than most people.”

He smirked. “I know. I do too.”

They kept reading, flipping pages without urgency. Olive sighed dramatically and stretched out her legs until she was pushing against both of them like a squishy little bridge.

Later, Noel opened the brownie box between them, and Lily didn’t protest. They split it in silence, trading slow bites between chapters, and when the light outside her window started to fade, he reached for the remote and put on Grey’s Anatomy without asking.

They watched it like they’d watched it a hundred times—pressed together, barely talking, occasionally commenting on a character’s bad decision or snorting at a weird line of dialogue.

—————————

The kitchen was already warm with the smell of bacon when Lily padded downstairs in Noel’s hoodie and mismatched socks. Olive trotted after her like a shadow, tail wagging. Noel followed with his hair still wet and eyes half-shut, holding her book bag in one hand and a hoodie of his own in the other.

“I told you not to put syrup on mine,” Lily muttered, elbowing him lightly as they stepped into the kitchen.

“You said nothing and then gave me a death glare when I poured it,” Noel replied, half off a yawn. “That’s not the same as using your words.”

“Your words are gross. Dad, Noel eats peanut butter on pancakes.”

Mark looked up from the stove with a smirk. “I know. But we still have to feed him anyway.”

Lily flopped dramatically into the seat next to him and sighed like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. “The burden is heavy.”

Lizzy turned from the fridge, a carton of eggs in one hand. “You both have practice at 7:10, right?”

Lily nodded. “Can you drive us?” Lizzy froze—just for a second. Then lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“Of course I can,” she said, voice soft with surprise. “Well, eat! We’ve got time.”

Justin sat at the other end of the table, already halfway through his coffee. He smiled at Lizzy, quiet and genuine, and was immediately pelted in the face with a blueberry.

“What the—”

Lily grinned. “You know I don’t like blueberries.”

“I didn’t plate your fruit. Dad did.”

She shrugged. “You’re still my favorite target.” Another blueberry sailed through the air and hit him directly on the nose.

“Lily Elizabeth Grey,” he said flatly, wiping his face. “Stop it.”

“You’re no fun when you’re not having regular sex,” she said sweetly.

“PANCAKES. BACON. EGGS!” Lizzy called over them, setting plates down with dramatic flair. “All on the table. Nobody talk until you’ve eaten something.”

Noel reached for a piece of bacon and gave her a crooked, grateful smile. “Miss Lizzy, you’re an angel.”

“Oh, stop,” she waved him off, flustered. “It’s breakfast.”

“No offense to Mark at all,” Noel said, “but he didn’t do breakfast. Not like this.”

Justin snorted. “Yeah, and when he did, he burnt it.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “And called it ‘texture.’”

Mark turned, spatula in hand. “Why are we picking on Dad before 6:30?”

“Because you make it easy,” Noel said, mouth full of pancake.

“And it’s funny to watch your face when you get annoyed with us,” Justin added.

“And you actually talk to us instead of just reading through trauma charts,” Lily said sweetly, stealing a slice of bacon off his plate.

Mark rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. “Well, okay then. Just call me out.”

Lily leaned over, bumping his shoulder with hers. “You wouldn’t change any of us.”

He looked at her—really looked—and his voice was softer when he said, “True, Lily Bean. True.”

Lizzy stood at the counter, beaming into her coffee cup like she’d just witnessed a miracle. And for once, it kind of felt like she had.

—————————

The hallway still smelled faintly like floor wax and burnt coffee. Lily twisted her locker dial with one hand and held her iced chai with the other, slightly more awake than she’d been during first period APUSH. She was running on three hours of sleep, sore calves from volleyball, and one dry sarcastic comment from Coach J about her serve—so yeah, she was thriving.

Hanna leaned against the locker next to hers, scrolling absently through her texts. “Okay but why do all the guys on the swim team look like they vape in their sleep?”

“They probably do,” Lily muttered, switching out her APUSH binder for her choir folder. “It’s Rosewood. These boys vape and trauma bond. That’s the whole brand.”

Hanna snorted. Behind them, footsteps slowed. Lily didn’t even need to turn. She knew that sound.

“Did you set it up?” Jason’s voice was low. Accusing.

Lily slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary and turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

Jason stood there in that usual half-brooding, half-sweaty way he always did. Like he hadn’t slept. Like the world owed him a second chance and no one was giving it. His jaw clenched.

“Alison’s grave. What did you do to it?”

Hanna straightened. “Not a damn thing, Jason.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he snapped. “Drama follows you two around like a lost puppy.”

Lily stepped forward, head tilted, eyes flashing. “You can believe us. Or don’t. But we didn’t have anything to do with Ali’s grave being dug up.”

She paused—just long enough. Then let her voice drop. “We’re innocent. Unlike someone we know.”

Jason’s jaw twitched. The meaning wasn’t lost on him. His eyes lingered on Lily’s face just a second too long, before he scoffed and turned sharply down the hall.

Hanna exhaled. “He used to be somewhat cute.”

Lily didn’t miss a beat. “Now he’s a bumfuck who can’t take responsibility for anything.”

——————————

Later in pre calc, it was silent as they all worked on their packets except for the occasional calculator being used. Lily was searching for an eraser in her bag when her phone buzzed. Thinking it was Noel or Justin she pulled it out - only to find it was A.

unknown, 9:24 AM

Alison isn’t the only one who went cold in the ground.

Some secrets stay buried… unless someone like you starts digging again.

Watch your step, Grey.

–A

She blinked slowly, before offering Hanna her phone. Hanna read the message a few times before passing it back to her with a look that could only mean ‘what can we do about it now’.

Lily slipped the phone back into her bag before sitting back up. She glanced around the room and caught Jenna smirking at the room in front of her. Lily rolled her eyes before going back to her packet.

[lisacameron99]

The One Where Blood Is The New BlAck

Warnings: academic anxiety, implied grief, post-miscarriage tension, emotional distancing, soft rejection, panic response, manipulation by A, ableism and suspicion toward a disabled character

Lily Grey was in full panic mode. First day of senior year. First period APUSH. Carrington’s room was three doors down and already radiating intellectual doom.

“This is it,” she muttered, clutching her binder like it was a lifeline. “This is how I die. Not on a battlefield. Not in a car crash. Here. In a stupid high school hallway before Carrington murders me with a syllabus. What if I bomb the first assignment? What if I blank in a discussion? What if I forget how to spell—God, what if I forget how to spell?”

Noel stood beside her, head tilted, watching her unravel like it was a sport he’d mastered. Which, to be fair—he had. “Lil.”

She didn’t hear him.

“I haven’t even opened the textbook. Well—I skimmed it, but it’s dense, and the intro talked about nationalism and I panicked and googled the French Revolution even though we’re in America—”

“Lil.”

“What if Spencer shows me up day one? What if I get so stressed I throw up in class? Do I get expelled for that? Is there a handbook? What if I fail?” She was pacing now. Binder clutched. Mouth moving faster than her brain. And Noel, very calmly, flipped his hat backwards.

Lily faltered mid-step. Her rant slowed, barely. He stepped forward. “You need to breathe,” he said, voice low.

She didn’t. “I can’t breathe. This is supposed to be the hardest class in the school and I am not emotionally equipped to—” He backed her into her locker in one smooth, practiced movement.

One arm braced against the metal beside her head. The other slid up to cradle the back of her neck, his fingers skimming the edge of her jaw with maddening softness.

Lily’s breath hitched. Her binder hit the floor. Noel leaned in—and kissed her. Full, warm, grounding. His lips moved against hers with just enough pressure to unspool her from the inside out. Her hands fisted in his shirt without thinking, like her body needed something to hold onto to survive the sheer shock of being touched like that. Like this.

They hadn’t kissed in months. Not since the miscarriage. Not since the grief twisted everything into silence. But right now? None of that mattered. Right now, she was melting into him in the middle of the goddamn hallway while overachievers shuffled past and her knees turned to absolute jelly.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was smug and low and very proud of himself. “Well,” he said, that smirk in full effect, “I guess I still got it.” Lily blinked up at him, lips parted, stunned and dazed and blushy as hell.

“Uh huh.” That was all she could manage. Her voice was breathy. Her face was scarlet.

Noel grinned. “If I knew that’s all it’d take, I would’ve bribed you with a kiss for a morning jog.”

She smiled slow—still pink, still starry-eyed—and leaned in to peck him, quick and playful.

“Maybe I can bribe you with a different kind of cardio later,” she whispered, voice just shy of teasing, just shy of filthy.

His eyes darkened instantly. Mouth parting. Every muscle in his body tensed. Then the bell rang. Neither of them moved. Lily tilted her head up, lips brushing his again like she wasn’t quite done.

“You have third period study hall, right?” he asked, voice low and rough.

She nodded. “Uh huh.”

“You’re mine.” Another nod. Another kiss. She kissed him soft and sweet, and then darted past him, bending to grab her binder off the floor. But not before very intentionally letting her hips sway as she walked away. Noel watched her go, absolutely starstruck.

——————————

Third period study hall. Empty classroom. Door locked. They hadn’t even made it to the desks.

Noel had her pinned gently between the supply cabinet and the wall, mouth moving over hers like he’d been waiting all morning—hell, maybe all summer. His hat was still backwards. Her cardigan was slipping off one shoulder. Her fingers were fisted in the front of his hoodie, clinging like she wanted to fall into him and not feel everything else.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t even heated, not yet. Just soft and slow, a low hum of something familiar. Something that should’ve felt safe.

But something in Lily’s chest had already started to tighten. Noel’s hand slipped under her shirt, warm against her waist, and she flinched—barely, but enough.

He pulled back, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said too fast. “Yeah. I just—”

His hand drifted up again. She tensed. “Lil,” he said quietly, pulling back fully now. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared down at his chest. Her throat bobbed. “I don’t know if I can… like… that.”

The air shifted. Noel blinked. “Okay. We don’t have to.”

“I just thought maybe I’d be ready. But I’m not.” Her voice was small. “And it’s not that I don’t want you, I just—”

“Lil.” He stepped back to give her space, but the way he said her name made her wince. Not soft. Not cruel. Just… disappointed. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“I just—I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you away. I just… I haven’t felt like myself in a while, and I don’t know if I can get in that headspace again. Not yet.”

He stayed quiet a beat too long. Then: “You haven’t been the same since April,” he said. “About anything. What makes this any different?” Her face went blank. It wasn’t said to hurt. But it did.

Noel realized it a second too late. “Lily, I didn’t—”

But she was already stepping away. Grabbing her binder. Shoulders hunched. She didn’t say a word. He didn’t stop her.

——————————

The cafeteria was quiet—just the low hum of vending machines and the occasional middle schooler whisper-yelling over a bag of Doritos.

Caleb sat in the back corner, laptop open, one earbud in, coffee balanced on the edge of his notebook. He didn’t look up when Lily dropped into the seat beside him.

She didn’t say anything. 

He didn’t either. “Are we talking about it?” he asked after a long minute.

“Nope.”

“Okay.” He kept typing. She rested her head sideways on her binder and stared at the condensation dripping down his nearby Snapple bottle.

Five minutes later, Hanna appeared like she owned the air around her—oversized sunglasses, perfect curls, a designer tote, and drinks.

She plopped down an americano in front of Caleb, a pumpkin spice latte for herself, and a very large iced chai with whole milk—extra cinnamon—in front of Lily.

Lily blinked. “How did you…?” She glanced between the two of them. Hanna raised an eyebrow.

Caleb sipped his drink without looking up. “I texted her.” Lily didn’t speak. Just reached for the plastic cup. The chill bit into her fingers, grounding her a little.

Then—quickly, almost like she didn’t mean to—she reached across the table and squeezed Caleb’s hand once. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t dramatic. Just Lily. A quiet thank-you tucked between her fingers and his. He squeezed back. Said nothing. And that was enough.

————————

The hallway outside the girls’ bathroom smelled like bleach and anxiety. Aria was pacing in that dramatic, purposeful way she did when she was spiraling. She held the pearl earring in her hand like it might bite her.

“This is the exact one,” she said, holding it up. “I swear, she put it in my locker on purpose. It’s like she wants me to know she knows. Or know I know she knows—”

“We all know you’re spiraling,” Hanna muttered.

Lily leaned against the wall, eyes on the tile. Her iced chai was still in her hand but the straw hadn’t moved in ten minutes. Emily noticed. She noticed everything.

“You okay?” Emily asked, nudging her shoulder.

Lily nodded. “Yeah. Fine.” Emily looked to Hanna. Hanna avoided her gaze and took a loud sip of her latte. Suspicious.

Spencer appeared a second later with her usual overstuffed binder, already talking. “If Jenna’s behind this, we need to think tactically. We don’t have proof she’s involved with A—”

“We have proof she’s creepy,” Aria muttered.

“—but we do have motive and opportunity. If she’s watching us—”

“She’s not watching us,” Hanna interrupted.

Spencer froze. “Why would you say that?”

The bathroom door opened behind them. Everyone went quiet. Jenna. Lily’s stomach dropped. They didn’t speak. Just moved. Years of training. Muscle memory.

Lily grabbed Hanna’s wrist and ducked into the nearest stall. Spencer yanked Aria and Emily into the next one.

Heels clicked across the tile. Jenna’s cane tapped once, then stopped.

No one breathed. Lily leaned back against the door, trying not to tremble. Hanna was right beside her, eyes wide, hands curled into fists.

Through the crack in the stall door, they both saw it: Jenna turned to the mirror. Reached into her purse. Pulled out lip gloss. And—looked directly at herself. Applied it perfectly.

No hesitation. No fumbling. Just full, steady eye contact with her reflection.bLily’s mouth dropped open.bHanna grabbed her arm. Her face said it all: That bitch.

Jenna capped the gloss, adjusted her hair, and walked out. No cane. No hesitation. Just perfectly confident steps out the door.

Silence. Then: “I should’ve slapped her,” Hanna whispered.

Spencer emerged from her stall. “We can’t tell anyone.”

Aria followed. “I’m ready to slap a sign on her that says Bitch Can See.”

“We need to stay quiet,” Spencer snapped. “This is good. She doesn’t know we know.”

“That’s not the vibe I’m feeling,” Hanna muttered.bLily didn’t speak. Emily watched her.

Even when the group scattered—Spencer to class, Aria back to unraveling, Hanna trailing behind Lily like a bodyguard—Emily stood still in the middle of the hallway.

Her jaw tightened. Something was wrong.bSomething with Lily. Something with Noel. Something she wasn’t seeing. And she was done waiting for it to fall into her lap.

———————

Lily barely made it through sixth period. Her head was pounding. Her stomach had that hollow, buzzy feeling that only happened when she’d been carrying too much for too long without letting any of it spill. She and Noel had been in the same rooms—third, fourth, fifth, lunch, seventh, eighth. All day. He didn’t avoid her, not exactly.

But he didn’t try either. And that—more than anything—was what hurt. Not the words. Not even the mistake. But the way he’d let the space grow. Like he didn’t know how to cross it. Like maybe he didn’t want to.

By the time the final bell rang, Lily was too wrung out to care about homework. She found Justin by the gym doors where he was finishing up his work-study shift—he was shadowing Coach Norton for the semester and pretending it didn’t drive him insane—and they walked home in silence.

The air was thick. Rosewood felt heavy in late September, like it hadn’t made up its mind between summer and fall. Lily’s backpack felt like it was full of bricks.

When they got home, Mark was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, chopping peppers like it was the only thing keeping his brain quiet. Lizzy sat at the counter with a glass of iced tea, flipping through mail and pretending she wasn’t checking the door every few seconds.

Mark looked up the second Lily walked in. And froze. “Hey,” he said, setting the knife down. “You okay?”

Lily forced a smile. “Fine.” Justin didn’t look at her. She didn’t bother heading for the fridge or dropping her backpack—just mumbled, “Gonna change,” and disappeared upstairs like smoke.

Mark was already moving. He dried his hands on a dish towel and followed her without hesitation, like his feet had been waiting for that cue all day.

Lizzy watched him go. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “She doesn’t talk to me anymore.” Justin stayed by the counter. His hand grazed the handle of his water bottle, but he didn’t pick it up. “She used to,” Lizzy added. “Before everything.”

He nodded once. Thought about what to say. Then said it. “For a long time, it was just me, Lily, and Dad,” he said. “Then it was just Lily and Dad. And then it was me, Lily, and Dad again.” He paused, voice lowering as he looked toward the stairs.

“And now it’s all of us again. Which is… good. But you have to understand—there was a solid year, maybe more, where it was just them. Just the two of them getting through it. With the Alison stuff. With the stuff you and I were dealing with.” Lizzy didn’t look at him, but she was listening.

“They survived by holding on to each other. And that kind of bond—” He shrugged. “It’s not about leaving us out. It’s just how they are.”

——————————

Upstairs, Mark tapped lightly on Lily’s door before easing it open. She was curled on her side, fully dressed, phone still clutched in her hand even though the screen had gone black.

He sat down beside her without a word. Then, gently: “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. Eyes damp, throat tight. He nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t move to leave. Just sat there, his presence warm and solid like always.

She exhaled. Her head tilted just slightly toward his shoulder—not enough to be obvious. But he leaned closer anyway. Like he felt it. Like he always did.

[lisacameron99]

Masterlist for Season 3 Pretty Little Liars Rewrite

The One Where It Happened That Night Part 1

The One Where It Happened That Night Part 2

The One With Blood Is The New BlAck Part 1

The One With Blood Is The New BlAck Part 2

The One With The Kingdom of the Blind (just one part)

The One With The Birds of a Feather Part 1

The One With The Birds of a Feather part 2

The One Where That Girl Is Poison Part 1

The One Where That Girl Is Poison Part 2

[lisacameron99]

The One Where It Happened That Night Part 2

Warnings: family tension, mental health recovery, mention of past miscarriage, strained parent-child dynamics, emotional distress, parental abandonment, subtle relapse mention, threatening message from A

They shuffled into the living room slowly—Lily in one of Noel’s worn plaid shirts, her hair messy and her eyes still puffy, Noel trailing behind her in sweats and sleep lines. The light outside had turned golden, morning in full swing. The others were scattered: Spencer hunched over a legal pad, Aria curled into the armchair like she hadn’t moved all night, and Justin standing near the window, phone still in hand.

He rubbed his forehead like he had a headache he couldn’t quite reach.

Lily’s voice was still scratchy. “What? What is it?”

Justin turned to her slowly. “I guess… dad called me, we’re having a family meeting with Ashley and Hanna.”

Lily blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“I don’t know.” He looked like he hadn’t slept either. “Dad said we’re having a family meeting when we get back, said it was about mom.”

Lily dropped onto the arm of the couch like her legs gave out. “I just wanted donuts and chai.”

Justin didn’t even look up. “You are the most dysfunctional human I know.”

“No,” Lily said immediately. “That’s Mona.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Out of regular people.”

“Then yeah. That’s me.” She shrugged. “You’re welcome.” She handed Pepper over to him like it was a peace offering, and Pepper purred instantly in his arms.

Lily’s eyes scanned the room, a little more awake now. “Where’s Emily?”

“Present.” A soft voice came from the kitchen doorway. “And sober.”

Lily stood up and crossed the room without hesitation, wrapping Emily in a hug that lingered a beat longer than usual. Emily clung to her in return.

“Hey,” Lily whispered.

“Hey,” Emily murmured back. “You okay?”

“No,” Lily said honestly. “Are you?”

“Not even close.”

——————

Chaotic Fambam, 8:42 AM(aka: Anna (Lily), Rapunzel (Hanna), Nemo (Justin), Doc (Mark), Fairy Godmother (Ashley), Kristoff (Noel)

lily (anna):what is the point of having this chat if we don’t use it

hanna (rapunzel):agreed. it’s literally here for us to communicate chaos, feelings, and food orders

mark (doc):It’s too early for me to handle both of your sass levels

lily (anna):you literally co-parent me and hanna, i don’t know what you expected

justin (nemo):you should see them overtired and hangry. it’s like a musical with teeth

hanna (rapunzel):shut up

justin (nemo):make me

hanna (rapunzel):i’ll make sure we listen to music you hate the whole drive back

justin (nemo):lilyyyyy hanna’s being meannnn

hanna (rapunzel):he started it

lily (anna):children please. don’t make me separate you. again.

ashley (fairy godmother):Why are you waking me up for family drama that happens every 12 hours like clockwork?

lily (anna):good morning mama ashley 💕 dad says we have to have a family meeting when we get home but didn’t say what it’s about 👀

mark (doc):You did not answer when I called this morning

lily (anna):i was sleeping off my trauma thanks ✌️

mark (doc):Excuses. 11:00 AM. Family meeting. Don’t be late.

lily (anna):is there food tho

ashley (fairy godmother):Yes. Mac salad, fruit, cheese, and those cucumber sandwiches you love

hanna (rapunzel):she literally squealed in delight. it scared justin and me. noel is unphased.

justin (nemo):he said it’s because he’s driven with her enough to know she squeals over food, music, and cows

lily (anna):okay yeah fair. mama ashley — you are one of my top ten favorite humans and i love you very very much

ashley (fairy godmother):I love you too, sweet girl 💕

—————— 

They barely made it up the front steps before Lily’s stomach dropped.

The door to the Marin house was already open, Ashley’s voice drifting faintly from the kitchen. There was laughter. Chairs scraping. The clink of glass against a countertop.

Lily stepped inside first.

And then froze.

Mark was standing by the kitchen table, arms crossed. Calm. Composed.

Across from him—smiling, poised, as if she belonged—was Lizzy Grey.

Lily stopped cold in the doorway. Her bag slid off her shoulder. “Mom?”

The word came out smaller than she meant it to. Fragile.

Behind her, Justin was still mid-step when he bumped into her back, making her stumble forward slightly. He caught her by the elbow on instinct, but even his voice cracked when he saw what she saw.

“Mom?”

Lizzy turned to them like it was the most normal thing in the world, like she hadn't disappeared from their lives in pieces and echoes and locked doors.

“Hi, sweethearts,” she said softly. “It’s good to see you.”

Noel stepped in behind Justin, only to stop short as well, his hand falling from Lily’s back.

“Mrs. Grey?” he asked, hesitantly.

Lizzy laughed gently, brushing her hands on the hem of her cardigan. “Don’t be silly, Noel. You can call me Lizzy.”

And just then—Hanna.

Bounding in, arms full of a fruit tray Ashley had made her carry. “Why are we all in the—” She stopped mid-sentence. Stared. “Oh.”

She blinked. And then, rapid-fire: “Lizzy—uh—Mrs.—Liz—okay um hi!” She gave a wide, slightly alarmed smile, slipping into her default Hanna Marin survival mode: perky and confused.

“Hello, Hanna dear,” Lizzy said, her tone unreadable.

Ashley stepped in from the other side of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel like she'd been waiting for the moment to land.

“Why don’t we all just… go sit down?” she suggested, her voice steady but kind. “There’s food, and we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Lily still hadn’t moved. Justin hadn’t blinked. Noel looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know if it would make anything better or worse.

So nobody said anything at all. They just followed Ashley into the living room.

Still stunned. Still waiting.

Still trying to decide if this was a dream or a reckoning.

—————— 

The Marin living room felt like a stage none of them had rehearsed for.

The food on the coffee table was untouched—mac salad, fruit, cucumber sandwiches, all lovingly prepped by Ashley. Mark sat in the armchair, calm but tired. Lizzy was perched beside him on the loveseat like she belonged there, like this wasn’t the first time in years she’d been invited into a space that used to tremble at her name.

Justin sat stiffly on the edge of the couch. Lily was curled up next to him, knees drawn up and Pepper settled in her lap. Hanna sat between Lily and Noel, trying and failing to look casual.

No one was talking.

“Well,” Mark finally said, clapping his hands once like he could break the spell. “Why are you all so quiet?”

Justin glanced at Lily before speaking. “Uh...Dad, I don’t really know how to react.”

Lily didn’t say anything. Her stare was fixed on a throw pillow she wasn’t holding.

“I think she’s shocked too,” Justin added.

Noel started to stand. “I can go. If this is just for family—”

“You—sit,” Mark snapped, pointing at him. “You’re part of this family. I’m your emergency contact. So sit your ass down.”

Noel blinked, then sat down again next to Lily without another word.

Lizzy’s smile was tentative. “Do you guys have questions?”

Lily finally looked up, and the look she gave her father was flat-out betrayal. Mark sighed.

“She’s better now,” he said. “She’s stable.”

Lily’s eyes snapped to Justin’s, a silent, sharp what the hell.

Mark noticed. “Guys, this is a good thing. This is what we want.”

Justin cleared his throat. “So… are you going to keep seeing someone?”

Lizzy nodded. “A psychiatrist and a therapist. I’m still on meds, but not the ones I was on before.”

Hanna gave a tight smile. “Do you plan to get a job or…?”

“She’s going to help me with paperwork,” Mark cut in. “Now that I’m chief of surgery, I need a secretary.”

Then his tone softened. “Bean? You okay?”

“Yep,” Lily said flatly. “I’m fine.”

Ashley chimed in quickly, “We’ve decided to start doing family dinners again. Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday nights. Everyone is expected to be there.”

Mark looked around the room. “Any more questions?”

No one said anything.

“Okay, that’s all then.”

Lily stood, grabbed her bag, and walked toward the front door. She made it halfway down the hall before Mark followed.

“Lily,” he called.

She didn’t stop.

He caught up to her. “This is a good thing.”

She turned around slowly, eyes glassy but sharp. “You could’ve told me this was the plan.”

Mark exhaled. “Lily, you haven’t been yourself in months. I wasn’t going to spring this on you when you’ve been—”

“Grieving?” she snapped. “Yeah. I get that. But we don’t lie to each other.”

Mark’s jaw tightened.

Her voice cracked, just a little. “Besides Noel, you were the only one who knew about the baby. I didn’t tell anybody else. Not Justin. Not Hanna. Not Emily. Just you.”

She blinked, hard. “And you couldn’t trust me with this?”

Mark looked gutted. “It’s not about your miscarriage, okay? It’s about your mom being well enough to come home. That’s all.”

“Right,” Lily muttered. “Good talk. I’m going home.”

“Lily—”

“I don’t want to talk, Dad. I slept like crap and just want my bed.”

She turned and walked out the door before he could stop her.

———————

The walk from Hanna’s to the Grey house took just under twenty minutes if you cut through the backyard paths and stuck to the edges of the woods. Lily knew it by heart—the cracks in the pavement, the way the fence behind the school tilted just enough to slip through without catching your sweatshirt. She didn’t rush. Didn’t dawdle. Just moved.

The quiet helped. It always did. Until it didn’t.

By the time she stepped onto her own back porch, Olive had already wriggled under the gate to greet her with a low, happy bark. Lily crouched, scratching behind her ears, chin trembling just a little now that no one was watching.

She didn’t go inside right away. She stood there with the dog pressed to her leg, bag still slung over her shoulder, letting the early morning air press against her face like a cold washcloth.

Her phone buzzed.

She blinked at the screen, expecting something from Justin. Maybe Noel. Maybe even Hanna checking in.

But it wasn’t that.

unknown, 8:46 AMMommy Dearest is out of the hospital… but she’s still got secrets… and so do you. I’m back, bitch.-A

Lily didn’t breathe.

The porch swayed. The phone slipped from her fingers and clattered against the wood.

She stared at it. Frozen.

Then, like clockwork, her chest rose and fell again. One hand clenched. She bent down slowly, picked the phone back up, and turned it over.

The screen still glowed.

I’m back, bitch.

Her jaw clenched.

"Of course you are," she whispered.

[lisacameron99]

The One Where It Happened That Night

Warnings: family tension, mentions of past miscarriage, mental health recovery, strained parent-child dynamics, grief, emotional manipulation, sudden reappearance of parent, A message (threatening undertone), emotional distress

The porch light glowed soft against the late August air, crickets humming somewhere beyond Spencer’s yard. Inside, the liars were sprawled across the Hastings barn room like they had a hundred nights before. Except this one was different. 

Senior year started tomorrow. Hanna held up her glass dramatically. “To surviving junior year and being hotter than ever.” They clinked. Most of the girls had mixed drinks, except Lily who had juice.

“Not everybody made it.” Emily said dryly and Lily looked away. She reminded herself the girls didn’t know. Not about her. “To Maya.”

“To Maya.” The girls echoed. They clinked glasses, including Lily’s grape juice.

Lily forced a small laugh, fingers curling tight around her untouched glass. The bottle sat in the center of the coffee table, already half-empty. Spencer had brought it out like it was tradition, like this was what they were supposed to do. They didn’t know how much it was costing Lily to sit there and not drink.

“Okay,” Spencer said, trying to lighten the mood. “One last dumb question before we start school: if you could do one thing this year that scares you, what would it be?”

“Easy,” Hanna grinned. “I want to be the best dressed girl Rosewood has ever seen.”

“Check,” Lily said quietly but loud enough the other girls grinned at her.

Aria bit her lip. “I want to write something that matters.”

“Typical,” Hanna teased. Emily stayed quiet.

Spencer looked over. “Em?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said after a beat. “Maybe… move on… I don’t know.” She reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass, ignoring Spencer’s quick glance.

“Easy there tiger,” Aria said, reaching over for the bottle.

“Uh, hello, I thought this was a party?”

“Okay!” Spencer said trying to defuse the situation. “Might want to slow down Em, you want to remember tonight.”

“You guys might be lightweights but I’ve gotten really good at this.” Emily said dryly grabbing the bottle again.

Lily swallowed. Her stomach twisted at Emily’s words. She could feel her heartbeat picking up, like her body already knew where this night was headed. She let her eyes drift toward the clock. She’d been calculating her exit for the last twenty minutes.

Hanna shifted closer, nudging Lily gently. “You okay? You’ve barely said anything.”

“I’m fine,” Lily said quickly. “Just tired.”

“Do you want some cookie dough?” Hanna gestured to the container. “It’s actually good and Caleb made sure to sift the flour, heat it, and there’s no eggs in it.”

“I’m good.” The words came out lighter than they felt. “I promised Coach J I’d be conscious for morning practice. Senior season, gotta show up.”

That earned a half-hearted laugh around the room. They let her off the hook. She knew they would. Spencer glanced at her phone, then stood up. “I’m gonna check the back door.”

“Paranoid much?” Aria teased.

“You live with my parents,” Spencer deadpanned.

A few minutes later, as the girls chatted about their class schedules, Lily stood up, stretching her arms like she was just restless. “Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

“You sure?” Spencer asked. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I told my dad I’d be home tonight,” she lied. “And Olive probably needs out.”

“Text us when you get home,” Hanna called after her.

“Will do,” Lily promised, grabbing her bag and sliding out the door with barely a sound.The second she was alone, her lungs deflated like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Her fingers fumbled in her pocket for her keys.

———————————

The house was quiet when Lily got home. Too quiet. She locked the door behind her, pausing for a second like she might change her mind and go back. But she didn’t. The lights stayed off. She didn’t need them. The dark was safer tonight. Softer.

Her fingers brushed against the cabinet handle as she passed the kitchen. She stopped. Just stood there. The cabinet door was slightly ajar. The bottle was still inside. Still where she left it. She hadn’t touched it in months. Hadn’t even let herself look at it most days. But tonight—

Her chest tightened. All she had to do was open the door. Twist the cap. One sip. Just one. Her fingers twitched, hovering over the handle. Her breathing started to quicken.

You’re fine. You don’t need it. You’re fine. Just breathe.

Her hand dropped. She stepped back, pressing her palm to her chest like she could slow her own heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard. The ache didn’t go away, but it didn’t win. Not tonight.

Her throat burned as she reached for her phone. She tried Noel first. It rang. And rang. Straight to voicemail. Lily bit her lip, her jaw tightening. She hated how much it still hurt to feel him pull away. Even now.She hesitated a second longer before tapping Justin’s name. It didn’t even finish the first ring.

“Lil?”

Her voice cracked. “Can you come home?”

“Yeah,” Justin said immediately. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”

She hung up before he could say anything else. Before she could fall apart. She sat down on her bed, tucking her legs underneath her, twisting the hem of her sweatshirt between her fingers. Olive, immediately sensing something wrong, climbed up onto the bed and put her head on top of Lily’s, Olive’s way of protecting her human. Pepper took notice and climbed up and sat on Lily’s hip, glancing around like somebody unwanted might snow up.

Ten minutes later, the door opened softly. Justin didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just set his bag down, kicked off his shoes, and crossed the room. Lily shifted to one side, making space. He slid onto the bed behind her, laying down so they were back-to-back, his shoulder blades pressed lightly against hers. Close, but not crowding.

They stayed like that. The weight of him behind her was grounding. Familiar. Safe. Neither of them spoke. or a long time, they just breathed. It wasn’t fixed. It wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t alone. And for tonight, that was enough.

———————————

The house was still. The kind of still that only happens deep into the night, when even the air feels asleep.

Lily had just started to drift. Justin’s steady breathing behind her was warm and grounding, Olive still curled at her head, Pepper perched like a sentry on her hip. Her phone buzzed violently against the nightstand, cutting through the quiet.

Justin groaned, stirring behind her. “Is that your phone or mine?”

Lily blinked herself awake, grabbing the phone and squinting at the screen. “Hanna.”

Justin shifted. “At—” he glanced at the clock, “—three-fifteen in the morning?”

Lily answered immediately. “Hanna? What’s wrong?”

Hanna’s voice came through in a rush. “Lily—do you know where Emily is?”

Lily sat up fully, heart rate immediately spiking. “What? She was with you.”

“She was,” Hanna said, words tumbling. “We fell asleep. Spencer woke up and she was gone. No note, no text, no shoes. She’s not outside, she’s not answering. We’ve checked the whole house—she’s just… not here.”

Lily’s stomach knotted. “Did you call her phone?”

“It’s here. She left it charging.” Hanna’s voice cracked. “Lily, she’s just gone.”

Justin sat up behind her now, voice cutting in. “She can’t just disappear.”

There was a pause on Hanna’s end. Then, sharp: “Justin, I know she’s not a magician. But she’s not here. So maybe don’t state the obvious and get off your bisexual ass and help us.”

Lily bit back a small, involuntary smile, even as the panic simmered in her chest.

“Okay,” Justin said, already yanking on sweatpants. “We’re coming.”

Lily hung up, blowing out a breath as she climbed out of bed. Pepper slid off her hip with a tiny annoyed meow. “Sorry, Pep.”

Justin pulled his hoodie on. “She’s even sassier when she’s sleep-deprived.”

“You’re not wrong.” They moved quickly, quiet but urgent, slipping out of the house and into the night.

——————————

The headlights from Noel’s car cut across Spencer’s driveway, casting long shadows against the barn and trees. The air clung to them like sweat—heavy, sticky, and hard to breathe through. Flashlights darted through the yard and into the woods, voices low and clipped, each of them desperate to find Emily, desperate to feel like something was still in their control.

The full squad had assembled fast—Spencer at the edge of the driveway, pacing with her phone pressed tight to her ear. Aria hovered near the porch steps, hugging herself. Hanna moved between them all, barking names into the dark. Justin and Noel had already started canvassing the woods, flashlights slicing through branches and overgrown brush.

Lily stayed back by Hanna’s car, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“I called Noel right after you,” Hanna explained, trying to keep her voice even. “Figured we needed as many people as possible.”

Lily’s eyes flicked toward the trees where Noel was reappearing. “So he can answer his phone at three A.M.,” she said, voice flat, “but not when I called him at ten.”

Hanna didn’t say anything for a beat. Then gently, “I’m sorry, girly.”

“It’s fine,” Lily said automatically. Too fast. She didn’t look at her. “We’ll talk later.”

But Hanna didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

Noel must’ve heard, or maybe he just knew, because the second he stepped back from the woods, he headed straight for Lily.

“Lily—” he started, breath catching like he already knew she wasn’t going to make this easy.

She didn’t look at him. “We just need to find Emily, okay? I can’t do this right now.”

“Lil—come on. I’m sorry.”

She turned then. Not all the way, just enough to let him see her eyes. The shine in them wasn’t from the flashlight.

“Sorry’s not enough tonight.”

Noel swallowed, stepped closer. “I’m trying—”

“I almost relapsed,” she said, soft but deadly. “And you weren’t there.”

He went still.

“You weren’t there when I needed you. Twice now.”

His voice cracked. “You can’t relapse.”

She laughed, but it was hollow. “Why not?” Her voice rose slightly, words rushing out like she’d been holding them in too long. “Because I’m the responsible one? The strong one? The one who’s supposed to keep it all together while my boyfriend won’t talk to me and I’m the reason we lost our baby?”

Noel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” she whispered. “And you’re not helping.”

Then she turned and walked away, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Noel stood frozen.

A moment later, Justin appeared behind him, flashlight in hand, oblivious to what had just unfolded.

“She’s not okay, man,” Justin said, voice low but sure. “She’s been off for weeks. Depressed. Not sleeping. She won’t talk to me, or Hanna, or Dad. She barely talks to Pepper.”

Noel didn’t move.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you both,” Justin added, “but you need to fix it. Because whatever it is—it’s getting worse. So fix it before she breaks more than she already has.

———————————

Spencer’s flashlight cut through the woods first, followed by Justin’s heavier beam as they followed the faint crunch of footsteps over damp ground. The air had turned colder, the kind of sudden chill that made Lily’s stomach twist even before she caught up to them.

Emily was standing at the edge of Alison’s grave.

Only it wasn’t a grave anymore.

It was a gaping hole. Freshly dug. Dirt piled off to the side like someone had started and stopped halfway. Emily stood over it, barefoot, wearing her sleep clothes and clutching a shovel with both hands like she didn’t realize she was holding it.

“Em,” Spencer said carefully, voice low but not panicked. “Hey. It’s just us.”

Justin stepped in slowly, his hands out like he was approaching a wild animal. “You’re okay,” he said gently. “You’re okay. But we have to go, alright?”

Emily didn’t answer. Just stared at the hole in the ground, eyes glassy and vacant. Her grip on the shovel tightened.

“Hey,” Justin said again, firmer this time. “Give me the shovel.”

Spencer stepped forward and gently took it from her hands. Emily didn’t resist. Her body slumped slightly, like the weight of it had been holding her upright.

“Let’s get her to the car,” Spencer said. “We need to go now.”

Justin nodded, guiding Emily toward the gravel path. She leaned into him without realizing it.

Behind them, Hanna and Aria appeared, pale and wide-eyed. Hanna took the shovel without a word and dragged it into the brush, tossing leaves and dirt over it. Aria grabbed the loose hoodie Emily had dropped and zipped it into her own bag.

When Lily caught up, Spencer was already at Justin’s side, whispering fast.

“My lake house,” she said. “We need to get there before the cops start asking questions. No one saw anything. If we burn the clothes and keep quiet—”

Lily stepped in, already shaking her head. “I need to go back. I have to get Olive and Pepper.”

Justin didn’t hesitate. “Take Noel’s car.”

Lily blinked. “What?”

“You, me, and Noel are the only ones who can drive right now. Aria’s shaking, Spencer’s on two hours of sleep, and Hanna—don’t even get me started on Hanna’s vision at night.” He took a breath. “I don’t want you driving alone. Just take his car, go home, get the animals, and meet us there.”

“Justin, I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine,” he cut in, “I swear to God I will flip out. You’re not. I’m not. None of us are. Just do this for me, okay? Please.”

Lily stared at him for a long second. Then nodded. “Fine. I’ll be quick.”

She turned and stomped toward Noel’s car, grumbling the whole way. “Stupid boys. Stupid trauma. Stupid night.”

Noel was already waiting by the passenger door, keys in hand. He pulled it open for her without a word. Lily stared at him, suspicious. “I’m really confused.”

Noel didn’t flinch. “Lil, just get in, okay?”

She blinked, then slid into the seat without arguing. As she settled in, he quietly shut the door, circled around to the driver’s side, and got in beside her.

They didn’t speak. The silence stretched thick between them. But this time, it didn’t feel empty. Just… waiting.

————————

The road to Spencer’s lake house was mostly empty. Barely-lit stretches of cracked asphalt, a few distant porch lights, and the sound of tires humming against the pavement. Lily sat curled in the passenger seat of Noel’s car, her legs tucked underneath her and both animals nestled on top of her—Pepper in a tense, upright loaf on her thigh and Olive stretched protectively across her lap like a weighted blanket.

She hadn’t said a word since they left her house.

Noel tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I wanna talk.”

“I don’t.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, adjusting Pepper slightly so her claws didn’t dig into her sweatshirt.

Noel exhaled, like he’d been holding it in for weeks. “You didn’t lose our baby.”

She flinched.

He kept going. “Women have miscarriages all the time. It’s not their fault. It’s not your fault.”

“I get that you weren’t ready,” Lily said quietly. “But I was.”

Her voice cracked, just slightly. “I wanted to be a mom. Even if it was hard. Even if we had no idea what we were doing. And now I can’t. And it’s like… you’re just ignoring me. Like it didn’t happen. Like I’m the only one still bleeding from it.”

Noel’s knuckles tightened on the wheel. “It’s not you I’m ignoring. It’s everything. It’s a me thing, okay?”

Lily turned to face him fully, Olive shifting with her. “Why won’t you ever just let me all the way in?” Her voice was broken as she asked him the words.

“Because it’s dark in there,” he said, bitterly. “It’s dark and messy and full of stuff I don’t want anyone to see.”

“Noel,” she snapped, “I’m literally a recovering alcoholic. Two of my friends were murdered. My mother was is in a psych ward for six years. My brother was in a psych ward for almost a year. I had a miscarriage. You think I’m afraid of dark and messy?”

He didn’t respond. Not right away. “…Fair,” he muttered finally. “So, uh. I may not want to go to college.”

She blinked. “That can not be all.”

“It’s not.” He swallowed hard. “My mom might be moving back to Rosewood. She’s been texting a lot. More than usual. I think she’s coming back.”

Lily’s brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“And I found out,” he said, his voice going quiet, “that I have two older half-brothers. From my dad. One of them died by suicide last year.”

Lily’s breath hitched. “Jesus, Noel. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the road. “You didn’t need more on your plate.”

Lily stared at him for a long second. Then down at Olive, still curled between her and the door, before looking out the window.

“I love you,” she said finally, her voice soft but aching. “I love you so much it hurts. I can’t go more than ten minutes without thinking about you. And when you shut down on me like this? It makes me feel like I’m standing on the other side of an ocean, screaming for you to come back to me.”

Noel’s grip on the steering wheel didn’t ease, but his jaw unclenched. He didn’t speak. But he reached across the console, his hand finding hers like it always did when he didn’t know how to say the right thing. And Lily didn’t let go.

——————

The cabin smelled like old wood and smoke and secrets. Spencer had already opened every window, lit two candles, and turned on a fan that did nothing. Emily sat curled on the edge of the worn leather couch, her eyes glassy and far away. Aria and Hanna lingered by the fireplace, pacing in slow circles. Justin was crouched beside a coffee table sorting through a pile of spare clothes they’d pulled from Spencer’s stash. Noel leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching everything and saying nothing.

Lily was the last to come in. Olive was still in the car, and Pepper had already slinked under a dusty armchair like she owned the place.

“We need to get ahead of this,” Spencer said, running both hands through her hair. “Emily’s clothes are probably covered in dirt and DNA and God knows what else, and if anyone saw her—”

“No one saw me,” Emily said, her voice barely audible.

“We don’t know that,” Spencer snapped.

“Spence,” Hanna warned gently.

“No, we need to be realistic. We’re not invincible just because Mona’s locked up.” Spencer’s eyes flicked to Lily. “And maybe if everyone had stayed, we wouldn’t be dealing with this mess alone.”

Lily stopped cold in the center of the room.

“What?” she said, voice sharp.

“You left,” Spencer said. “When we were all drinking and clearly unraveling, you just left. No text, no call, nothing.”

“I almost relapsed, Spencer,” Lily snapped, the words cutting through the room like a whip. “Okay? I couldn’t be there. I got home and almost relapsed.”

Silence.

“This whole situation sucks,” Lily added, breath shaky. “But you can’t go back and undo it. And don’t you dare make me feel guilty for saving myself.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “Lily—we would’ve stopped drinking if we knew you were struggling—”

“Would you?” Lily turned on her, eyes wild and glassy. “Do you know what it’s like to be around all your friends who can drink and you can’t? Do you know how fucking idiotic that makes you feel? Like you’re broken? Like you’re the weak link?”

No one answered.

“I’m not gonna stop you guys from having fun just because when I was sixteen, I made some really shitty choices.” Her voice cracked. “That’s on me. Not you.”

Then she turned and stormed down the hall, slamming one of the bedroom doors hard enough to shake the walls.

Everyone stood frozen.

Emily looked down at her lap, guilt painted across her face. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I didn’t even know—”

“It’s not you, Em,” Noel said gently, pushing off the wall. “There’s just… a lot of shit going on right now.”

Justin sighed, standing up straight. “Do you want this round, or should Hanna or I take it?”

Noel didn’t even hesitate. “I got it.”

Hanna watched him disappear down the hall, then turned to Justin. “There’s so much that’s happened between them and I don’t even know where to start unpacking it.”

“Me either,” Justin admitted. “But one thing’s for sure—they’re still together. And they still need each other.”

Aria nodded slowly. “Whatever happened between them, it wasn’t cheating or lying. It’s something worse. Neither of them have been the same since we found out Mona was A.”

Hanna crossed her arms, looking toward the hallway. “They’ll tell us when they’re ready. And we’re not going to push them for answers.”

She shot a pointed look at Spencer.

Spencer scoffed, clearly biting back a retort. “So we’re just okay with them lying?”

“No,” Justin said calmly. “But Lily is severely depressed, Spencer. I’ve never seen her this way before. Not when Mom left. Not when Ali disappeared. Not when we found out about Ian and Jason. Never like this.”

He stepped closer, voice low and deadly serious.

“I don’t even know if Noel knows all of it. So if you push and make this worse for her… you won’t like the consequences.”

Spencer blinked, startled by the edge in his voice.

The cabin was quiet again.

For now.

——————

The knock came soft, but the door opened before Lily could say a word.

Noel stepped inside, not waiting for permission. He looked exhausted, his hoodie pushed up to his elbows, his hair a mess from running his hands through it.

Lily didn’t turn around. She stood by the window, arms crossed so tight across her chest they trembled.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to,” Noel said, leaning back against the closed door.

That did it.

She whipped around, eyes already wet, voice sharp. “Then why weren’t you there?”

Noel blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You knew,” she snapped. “From the second you heard that voicemail, you knew I lost our baby—and you didn’t come home for two fucking days.”

“I was in Boston,” he said quickly, too quickly. “With my mom. And Eric. I—I didn’t know what to do.”

Lily laughed, but it was bitter and cracked. “Right. Because not knowing what to do is a good enough reason to just disappear.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“You did! You ghosted me when I needed you the most!” Her voice cracked. “I have spent months putting everyone before myself. Above Emily, above Hanna, above my mom, my dad, Justin—you. Always you. And the one time—the one time—I needed you to put me first, you weren’t there.”

He shook his head. “You think I didn’t care? You think this didn’t fucking wreck me too?”

“You didn’t show it.”

“I may not have been ready to be a dad, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it!” he snapped, stepping toward her. “So stop acting like you’re the only one in pain.”

“I’m not!” she shouted, breath shuddering. “But I was alone in it.”

“I didn’t know how to help you, Lily. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“So you left?” she asked, furious and heartbroken. “You left and let me spiral because you didn’t know what to say?”

“I thought space was the right call,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“No shit.”

He looked up, finally meeting her eyes, and stepped closer. “Lily—”

She backed away, fast. “Don’t touch me. I swear to God, Noel—if you touch me right now—”

But he was already pulling her in.

“Stop—Noel—” she hit his chest, shoved at his arms, but he didn’t budge.

“I’m here,” he said, voice low, rough. “You can hit me, yell at me, whatever. I deserve it. But I’m not leaving you.”

She fought for one more second.

And then the dam cracked.

Her body collapsed into his with a sob that broke right down the middle. She clung to him with trembling hands, the front of his shirt bunched in her fists like she needed to hold onto something before she floated away.

Noel held her tighter.

“I’m here,” he said again, quieter this time. “You can cry now. I’ve got you.”

Lily cried and cried—harder than she had in weeks. Loud, messy, gulping sobs that soaked through his shirt and left her chest aching. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t shush her, just let it happen. Let her fall apart in the arms that should’ve been there all along.

Eventually, the sobs dulled. She sniffled, her forehead resting against his shoulder. She didn’t move.

Then, softly: “Do you still love me? Even though I lost our baby?”

Noel froze for half a second. Then he pulled back just enough to see her face.

“I’m a dick,” he said, voice hoarse. “I know that. I fucked this up. But there is nothing—nothing—that could make me stop loving you.”

Lily blinked hard, tears still slipping silently down her cheeks. “You’re such an idiot.”

He half-smiled. “I know.”

She leaned in again. This time, he didn’t have to reach for her.

And for the first time since everything fell apart, Lily let herself be held—not by the memory of what she lost, but by the person she still had.

——————

The cabin had fallen into that charged kind of silence—where no one speaks, but everyone’s listening. The kind that feels like a match already lit, waiting for someone to drop it.

Noel had just made it to the kitchen, pouring water into a glass when Spencer stepped into his path like she’d been waiting.

“You want to explain what’s going on now?” she asked, arms folded, chin tilted like a challenge.

Noel didn’t even glance at her. “Back the fuck off, Spencer.”

“Not this time,” she snapped. “We get to know what you're hiding.”

He turned slowly, jaw tight. “I’m only gonna say this once: if you ever ask about this again, you’ll regret it.”

She didn’t flinch. “There he is. The real Noel Kahn. Knew he had to be buried under that jock thing you’ve got going.”

“Spencer,” Hanna warned, stepping forward. “We told you to drop it. That wasn’t a cute suggestion. You don’t know what’s happening.”

“No one does!” Spencer exploded. “That’s the problem, Hanna! Everyone’s walking on eggshells while Lily and Noel act like they’re carrying state secrets. And I’m done pretending it’s normal.”

Aria cut in. “The problem is you think knowing fixes things. You think if you just ask hard enough, the universe will cough up answers. But this isn’t a riddle to solve.”

Justin crossed the room to Noel’s side. “I told you not to push.”

“I want answers!” Spencer shouted. “Ali’s grave was dug up, Emily woke up holding a shovel with no memory, and we’re all pretending like this—” she pointed toward the closed bedroom door, “—has nothing to do with it?!”

Noel’s voice was cold. “It doesn’t.”

Spencer stepped closer. “Then what the hell is so awful that you won’t tell us?”

Silence.

Then came Lily’s voice. Quiet. Low. Frayed.

“Fine.”

Everyone turned.

Lily was standing in the hall, barefoot, wearing one of Noel’s sweatshirts, her hair a mess, her face blotchy from crying. But her eyes? Her eyes were on fire.

“You want the truth, Spencer? You want it so bad?”

No one moved.

“I had a miscarriage,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake, but her whole body did. “Shortly after Maya died.”

The room was still.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant until a week later. And less than two weeks after that, I miscarried. Alone. In the fucking bathroom.”

Spencer’s face went pale.

“You think you’re the only one who wants answers?” Lily kept going, her voice rising now, something breaking loose. “You think I wanted this to be a secret? I didn’t even have time to process it before I had to hide it like a fucking scandal.”

Her hands were shaking. “I didn’t get a support group. I didn’t get to grieve. I didn’t even tell my best friends because I didn’t want them to look at me the way you’re all looking at me right now.”

Spencer opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Is that what you needed to know?” Lily demanded, voice cracking wide open. “Is that what was so important? That little Miss Hastings had to keep digging?”

Spencer looked stricken, frozen.

“You want to know why I’ve been off?” Lily’s voice dropped, raw and hoarse. “Why Noel and I have been weird? Why I couldn’t sit in that room with you all drinking and pretending everything was normal? It’s because I’m not normal. I’m broken. I’m grieving something no one even knew existed.”

Noel stepped forward, slowly. “Lily—”

She ignored him. “So there. There’s your big mystery solved. Noel and I had nothing to do with Alison’s grave. Or Emily’s blackout. Or anything else. I was too busy losing a baby I didn’t even know I wanted until it was gone.”

Her breath caught like a sob was trying to crawl out, but she wouldn’t let it. She was trembling, cracked open.

“Happy now?”

“Lily,” Noel said again, quieter this time. “Come on.”

She looked at him then, eyes still wide and wet, but something in her mouth had gone slack. The fight was gone now. All that was left was the collapse.

Noel stepped up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She didn’t resist.

He started walking her backward, gently, toward the room she’d come from. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

Lily didn’t speak. Just let him guide her.

And as the door closed softly behind them, the rest of the group stayed frozen.

Hanna exhaled shakily. “What the hell just happened?”

No one had an answer.

Not even Spencer.

——————

The cabin had gone still again.

Outside the bedroom, whispers flickered like dying candles. Spencer had disappeared onto the porch. Justin sat on the floor with his back against the couch, staring into nothing. Emily had curled herself into one of the armchairs, arms around her knees. Aria hovered in the doorway, like she didn’t know where to stand.

Hanna didn’t say anything.

She just got up, walked quietly down the hall, and tapped Noel on the shoulder outside the cracked bedroom door. He looked up, pale and exhausted.

“I’ve got her,” Hanna whispered.

Noel hesitated. He looked like he might argue. Might say something like she asked for me, or she’s okay now, or I don’t want to leave her again. But then he looked past Hanna to the figure curled under the blanket, still and silent, and he just nodded.

Hanna stepped past him. Slipped into the room. Shut the door softly behind her.

Lily didn’t move.

She was lying on her side, facing the wall, her face half-buried in Noel’s pillow. Her eyes were open. But she wasn’t really looking at anything.

Hanna didn’t speak. Didn’t announce herself.

She just climbed into the bed behind her—slow and careful, but unafraid—and settled onto her back, eyes on the ceiling. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t touch. Didn’t ask.

They just breathed in sync.

One staring at the wall.

The other staring at the ceiling.

No sound. No explanation.

Just two girls holding each other’s grief in the quiet.

——————

The kitchen lights were still off.

The only glow came from the open fridge door, casting a pale rectangle across the tile. Noel sat on the floor in front of it, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other stretched out, his back against the cabinet. A bottle of water dangled from his fingers, unopened. His head was tipped back against the wood, eyes half-closed.

He didn’t look up when Justin walked in.

Justin didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there in the doorway, watching him for a beat. Then he sank down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, both of them facing nothing.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Justin said quietly.

Noel let out a tired breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Justin leaned his head back against the same cabinet, mimicking Noel’s posture. “Usually, with you and Lily... I know what to do. I’ve always known. But right now? I’m just... lost.”

Noel turned his head slightly, looked at him. “Well,” he said, voice low and rough. “You’re here now.”

That was it.

No one moved.

They just sat there in the hum of the fridge light, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken.

Because being there was enough.

——————

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow slipping in through the cracked window. Lily hadn’t moved.

She still lay on her side, curled toward the wall, her sweatshirt rumpled and damp. Olive was nestled tight against her stomach, nose tucked under Lily’s hand. Pepper had claimed the pillow beside her head, her little frame curled like a comma, one eye barely open like she was still on guard.

Noel stood in the doorway, still, watching.

Hanna looked up from where she sat at the foot of the bed. She didn’t smile. Just gave him that knowing Hanna look—the one she only wore when she was trying not to cry.

“She hasn’t really moved,” Hanna said softly. “She hasn’t said anything either.”

Noel exhaled slowly. Nodded.

“Can you sit with Justin?” he asked, voice rough. “He’s on the kitchen floor. I just—” he rubbed a hand over his face. “I just need to sleep. But I’m not going to if I’m not here. With her.”

Hanna stood immediately. “Yeah. Of course. Whatever you need.”

She paused as she passed him in the doorway, then turned and hugged him tightly. Not out of pity—out of love. Out of understanding.

“I’m so, so sorry, Noel,” she whispered.

He hugged her back, his hand tightening briefly on her shoulder. “Me too.”

She disappeared down the hallway.

Noel stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He knelt by the bed, brushing Lily’s hair gently back from her face. She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just blinked slowly.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Can I take this off?”

No answer. But she didn’t stop him either.

He sat her up gently, pulling the old, damp sweatshirt over her head. Her arms were heavy, loose, like she wasn’t really there.

He slipped his own shirt over her, threading her arms through the sleeves, smoothing it down over her hips. Then he climbed into bed behind her, sliding in close.

One arm wrapped around her waist. The other curled into her hair.

She didn’t speak.

Just shifted slightly, her nose tucking into the warm space between his neck and shoulder. Her fingers curled loosely around the fabric at his chest.

A long beat passed. Then, barely audible:

“Love you.”

Noel closed his eyes, his voice steady even when his chest wasn’t. “I love you too, baby.”

His hand threaded gently through her hair, the other resting flat over her stomach, where Olive had laid her head.

The bed was quiet.

So was the night.

But for the first time in a long time, they both slept.

——————

The light in the room was a soft haze, pale and early, the kind that made everything feel suspended—like the world hadn’t started yet.

Lily lay with her back pressed to Noel’s chest, his arm slung low across her waist, fingers curled loosely against the hem of her borrowed shirt. Olive was tucked at her knees. Pepper was somewhere on the floor, having finally moved in the night. The bed was warm, safe. Still.

“I have to go out there, don’t I?” she murmured.

Noel’s voice was rough with sleep, but steady. “Yeah… it’s probably for the best.”

She sighed, then rolled over slowly and tucked herself into his chest, her forehead resting just beneath his collarbone. “I don’t want to deal with Spencer right now.”

“Well, fuck Spencer,” he muttered. “You don’t have to talk to her.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Lily’s mouth. “Can we get donuts on the way back?”

Noel let out a low laugh. “Of course you want donuts.”

She gave a soft, broken giggle—not her normal one, smaller—and mumbled, “They’re my trauma food.”

“Oh yeah, I know. Chai latte and sugar… it’s your love language.”

He shifted slightly, like he was going to get up, but her hand caught his arm.

“Hey, Noel?”

He looked down at her.

“I really love you.”

Noel exhaled like her words physically hit him. “Well, Lily… that’s good,” he said quietly. “Because I really love you too.”

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a second longer than he needed to.

——————

End.

[lisacameron99]

chapter 1: hide and seek

warnings: abuse, domestic violence, PTSD, emotional trauma, implied sexual content, strong language, recovery after trauma

Brooke didn’t remember the last time she’d slept. Not real sleep, anyway. Not the kind that let you rest.

The bus rattled along the highway like it might shake itself apart, but the noise barely registered. Her cheek throbbed where the skin split open, sharp and raw, and every bump in the road sent a flare of pain through her ribs that made her eyes water.

She didn’t cry, though. She couldn’t. If she let herself unravel now, she might never come back from it.

She kept her hood up, sunglasses on, hands shoved into the sleeves of her borrowed sweatshirt — too big, too soft, stained near the wrist. The bus was mostly empty. No one asked questions. Not when you looked like you’d already lost. Her reflection in the window barely looked human. Just a blur of shadows and blood.

She used to dream about getting out of the Cut. About going to Duke and starting over and never looking back. She did everything right. Worked her ass off. Made it out. And still ended up here. Bruised, broke, and one wrong step from being found.

Her phone was gone. Smashed against a wall two nights ago. Her ID might’ve still been in her wallet, but she wasn’t about to use it. Not when there was even a chance he could track it. He had friends in the department. Unofficial power. Badges that bent when he smiled.

She hadn’t planned. There wasn’t time. She just ran.

⸻

The walk from the bus stop to the Chateau felt longer than it should’ve. Her boots dragged over the gravel. Sweat prickled along her spine. The ache in her side had gone from stabbing to sickening. She tasted copper at the back of her throat.

She didn’t know if anyone would be there. She didn’t know what she’d say if they were. But she remembered the swing on the porch. The way the house always smelled like ocean salt and cheap beer and safety. JJ yelling from the hammock. Sarah chasing the music. John B barefoot in the grass.

The closest thing she’d ever had to a home. Her knuckles shook as she knocked. Once. Then again. The door opened too fast. And there he was.

JJ Maybank. Same wild hair. Same scowl that tried too hard to look like indifference. He had a bag of chips in his hand and salt on his fingers, and she hadn’t seen him in nearly two years, but God — he looked steady.

He looked like the only thing in the world that hadn’t broken.

“Brooke?” Her name sounded like a punch coming out of his mouth. She blinked behind her sunglasses. Her lip was split. She didn’t smile so much as try to.

“Is John B home?” she asked, voice hoarse, careful.

JJ’s eyes raked over her. The bruises. The cut. The way her arm cradled her side like something might give out if she let go.

“No,” he said, low. “He’s with Sarah.” A pause. Then: “Brooke. What the fuck happened to you?” She looked down at her shoes. One was untied. The lace trailed behind her like a lifeline.

“I just needed somewhere to go,” she whispered. “Didn’t know where else to land. Ended up here.”

She didn’t say I think he’s looking for me or I don’t know if I’m safe. Didn’t say he used to wear his badge when he hit me. Didn’t say anything at all.

JJ’s breath hitched — barely audible, but real. His whole body shifted, like it took effort not to reach for her. Then he stepped back. “Yeah,” he said, rough around the edges. “Of course. Come in.” She crossed the threshold and didn’t look back.

——

JJ stepped out onto the porch the second she disappeared down the hall.

He ran a hand through his hair, lit a cigarette he didn’t even want, and stared out at the water like it might give him answers. It didn’t.

His phone was already ringing before he could change his mind. He paced hard, barefoot on sun-warmed wood.

“Yo,” Pope answered.

“She’s here,” JJ said, no preamble.

There was a pause on the other end.

“Brooke?”

“Yeah.” JJ exhaled, sharp. “Showed up outta nowhere. Looked like she got hit by a fuckin’ truck.”

“Shit,” Pope muttered. “Is she okay?”

JJ barked a dry laugh. “No. No, dude, she is not okay. Black eye, split cheek, flinching like I’m gonna swing on her. Said she needed somewhere to go. Didn’t say shit else.”

Cleo’s voice cut in from the background, sharp. “She’s back?”

“Yeah. At the Chateau. Asked for John B, but he’s off with Sarah.” JJ dragged a hand over his mouth. “She looked wrecked, Cleo. Like… real bad.”

Cleo came closer to the mic. “She talk about Andrew?”

JJ froze. “…no. Why would she?”

“Because he’s been calling,” Pope said. “Like, nonstop. Leaving voicemails, blowing up my phone. Started maybe a week ago, asking where she is.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” JJ’s voice spiked.

“She wasn’t answering us either, man,” Pope snapped. “She went radio silent like three months ago. Wouldn’t pick up, wouldn’t text. She was always kinda distant since she started dating him but—”

“Yeah, well, distant’s different than vanishing.”

“We tried,” Cleo said, quieter now. “She shut us out.”

JJ was pacing again. “Jesus Christ.”

“We thought she was just… I don’t know. Over it. She worked so hard to get out, maybe she didn’t want the reminder.”

JJ kicked the railing. “So what? No one thought maybe her boyfriend was the problem?”

“We talked about it,” Cleo admitted. “I asked her once if she was okay and she said yeah, just tired. But something was off. The last time we FaceTimed she looked—different. Like she was shrinking.”

JJ’s stomach dropped. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You hadn’t talked in, like, a year.”

“I would’ve still wanted to know.”

Pope sighed. “Andrew’s a cop, man.”

JJ went still. “What?”

“Sheriff’s deputy. Small town outside Durham. Transferred departments after graduation. Super buddy-buddy with the local guys.”

“That’s who she was dating?”

“Yeah. Rich, clean-cut, the kind of guy who smiled with all his teeth. Made her dinner and drove a Tesla. Total fucking snake.”

JJ leaned against the porch post, every muscle pulled tight. “You think he did this?”

Cleo didn’t hesitate. “I do now.”

“She was scared,” JJ muttered. “Didn’t say it. Didn’t have to. You could see it all over her.”

“Jesus.”

“She asked to stay. Said she didn’t know where else to go.”

“And you said yeah?” Pope asked.

JJ scoffed. “Of course I said yeah.”

There was silence on the line for a second, like they were all breathing the same knot in their chests.

Then Cleo, voice sharp again: “If he’s lookin’ for her, you better be ready.”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m ready.”

———

The sound of tires on gravel cracked through the quiet like a gunshot.

Brooke’s body went rigid.

JJ clocked it instantly — the way her breath hitched, the way her hands gripped the cushion, the way her shoulders rose like she was waiting to be struck. Her eyes were wide. Too wide.

“Hey,” he said softly, already rising. “It’s okay. It’s just John B and Sarah. I texted them.”

The door creaked open before she could answer.

“Yo!” John B called, voice light. “What’s up, why are we—”

He stopped in the doorway. His eyes landed on JJ, then drifted to Brooke — still tucked against the couch like she might fold in on herself completely.

JJ stepped between them without even thinking.

Not aggressively. Not like a threat.

Just… there.

Solid. Present.

“You’re okay,” he said, eyes still on her. Voice soft but sure.

“It’s just them. You’re safe. You can stay as long as you want, alright?”

She didn’t nod. Didn’t speak.

But she breathed.

Her grip on the cushion loosened. Just slightly. Enough.

John B froze, whatever reaction he’d planned knocked clean out of him.

Sarah, behind him, caught on fast. Her expression shifted — sharp worry melting into something warm and calm.

She stepped in, quiet.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, voice light.

Brooke blinked. “Hi.”

Sarah smiled, walking around the couch but not getting too close.

“You showered recently?”

Brooke looked confused. “Um… no?”

“Okay.” Sarah nodded. “We’ll fix that. I’ve got clean clothes in the truck — you’re about my size. Lavender shampoo’s under the sink. Smells like overpriced peace. Works like a charm.”

Brooke hesitated.

JJ turned just slightly, enough for her to see him, still planted like her shadow.

“You’re good,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”

So she stood, slow and careful. Her whole body moved like it hurt.

As she passed JJ, her hand brushed his — just barely. And when she was gone, when the bathroom door clicked shut down the hall, the room exhaled with her.

⸻

Sarah turned to JJ, quiet now.

“What the hell happened?”

JJ shook his head. “She didn’t say. But I’ve got a guess.”

John B hovered in the kitchen doorway. “That guy she was seeing. Cop, right?”

JJ nodded. “Andrew.”

“Shit,” Sarah muttered. “He always gave me the ick. All those big smiles and perfect manners? Felt fake.”

“Pope said he’s been calling nonstop,” JJ added, sinking onto the edge of the couch. “Leaving voicemails. Looking for her.”

Sarah’s face went tight. “She flinched every time his name came up. I thought I was being dramatic.”

JJ didn’t answer right away. He just looked down the hallway — toward the bathroom where the water had just started running.

“She came back broken,” he said quietly. “And I don’t think she thinks she deserves to be okay.”

Sarah sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders bumped.

“She came back,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

———

The shower helped.

Not enough to fix anything, but enough to remind her what warmth felt like. The lavender shampoo Sarah had mentioned smelled like some kind of made-up calm — spa day, safety, sleep — and when Brooke rinsed the suds from her hair, she felt a little less like a ghost.

After, she stood wrapped in a towel for too long, staring at the clothes Sarah left folded on the bed.

She tried the jeans. Fumbled with the button once, twice. Her hands were still shaking. Her ribs protested the motion, and her throat tightened before the denim ever made it over her hips. She gave up quickly. Quietly.

Her duffel sat in the corner, unopened.

Instead, she opened JJ’s dresser. She didn’t know why. Maybe because she needed something soft. Maybe because the idea of wearing something his felt like the first safe decision she’d made in weeks.

She found a shirt. Faded gray, threadbare soft, loose enough to breathe in.

She tugged it on over a clean pair of underwear from her bag, then crossed the room and sank down with her back to the bathroom door. Legs pulled to her chest. Damp hair clinging to her skin. Eyes hot and tired.

The shirt smelled like salt and laundry soap and something steadier than memory.

⸻

JJ found her there a few minutes later.

He stopped in the doorway.

Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his, the shadow of apology already etched across her face.

He looked at her — at the way she was curled in on herself again, in his shirt, like she didn’t know what she was allowed to ask for.

He didn’t ask why she was on the floor.

“Sarah brought you clothes,” he said gently, stepping in.

“I know.” Her voice caught. “I tried.” JJ sat beside her, shoulder brushing hers, warm and steady. “The jeans,” she added, quieter. “I couldn’t get them to button. I think I—I must’ve gained a little weight or something. I didn’t know what to do. This felt like a good option.” She shrugged and ducked her head again, wanting to escape.

JJ looked over at her, eyes soft. “You could wear any damn thing in this house and it’d be the right choice.” She huffed out a breath — not a laugh, not really, but close. Her fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, like it cost her something.

JJ leaned his head back against the door and let out a breath. “None of that nonsense, okay?”

Brooke leaned her head against his shoulder. Slowly. Carefully. Like she was waiting for him to flinch. He didn’t. “You’re here,” he said, voice low and even. “And it’s okay now.”

She closed her eyes. Let herself believe it. Just for a second. They sat like that for a long time — not speaking, not moving, just being. Brooke didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until JJ shifted later to put her on the bed and drape a blanket over her body. And even then, she didn’t let go of his arm.

———

She closed her eyes. Let herself believe it — the safety, the warmth of JJ’s voice, the steadiness in his silence — just for a second. They sat like that for a long time, not speaking, not moving, just breathing the same tired air. Brooke didn’t remember falling asleep. Only that at some point, she must’ve let go, because now she was waking up in JJ’s bed, curled beneath a blanket that hadn’t been there before, her cheek pressed to the soft inside of his arm and her fingers still curled around his wrist like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.

The room was quiet. Morning light bled through the blinds in thin stripes, soft and slow. JJ was still beside her, half on his back, mouth parted, hair a mess. He hadn’t moved. He’d let her take up space. Let her stay close.

She didn’t move. She just laid there, head pressed to his arm, barely breathing. She tried to stay here, in this room, in this light, but the second she closed her eyes again it slipped.

I can’t believe you went to that event without me.

A backhand across her face. Fast. Sharp. Her teeth cutting into her lip.

You know you’re never to go anywhere without me. Another blow, harder. Her ribs catching the corner of the kitchen table. The wind knocked out of her. No time to cry.

You’re just another cheating whore. Phone gone. Smashed on the tile. Screaming in her ears. The sound of glass. The edge of his knuckle catching her cheek.

You’ll never be good enough. One final hit. No warning. No rage. Just the words, quiet and deadly, before her head snapped back.

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t remember standing up. Didn’t remember dragging herself to the bathroom floor that night or wiping the blood from her face with shaking hands. Just the cold tile. The silence. The taste of copper and her own heartbeat in her mouth.

She didn’t realize she was trembling until JJ stirred beside her.

“Brooke?” he murmured, still half-asleep. “Hey.”

She didn’t answer.

“B.” His voice was softer now, careful. “It’s just me.”

He reached for her gently. Slow, like she was something fragile — and maybe she was, because the moment his hand touched hers, her whole body jolted. She flinched back like she’d been burned, breath catching as she scrambled upright. JJ moved fast, but not toward her — just enough to sit up, hands up in the air like he was trying not to startle her again.

Brooke couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t even speak. The shame hit harder than the memory.

She turned and bolted for the bathroom, barefoot, the blanket falling behind her. The door slammed. The lock clicked.

JJ sat frozen, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, pulse hammering.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging both hands through his hair.

He stood, stepped toward the door, but didn’t knock. Didn’t press.

“Brooke,” he said, quiet and steady, right up against the wood. “It’s just me.”

There was no answer. Just the sound of the faucet running, and the thin, ragged breathing of a girl trying her hardest not to fall apart.

———

Brooke sat on the edge of the tub, her breath steady enough to fake calm if no one looked too close. The tile was cold beneath her bare legs. The mirror fogged from the earlier shower, but her reflection still stared back — pale, hollow-eyed, wearing JJ’s t-shirt like a memory and nothing else.

Her fingers twisted in the fabric. Her hair was drying in tangled waves down her back, still damp at the roots, matted from where she’d laid against the pillow with it wet. She hadn’t thought to brush it. Couldn’t. Her hands had been shaking too much.

The knock was gentle.

“B?” Cleo’s voice, low and careful. “I’m here, love. Just me.”

Brooke didn’t speak. She didn’t move.

Then JJ’s voice, softer than she’d ever heard it.

“She’s been in there a while.”

Brooke’s heart stuttered. She closed her eyes.

“Brooke,” Cleo said again, just outside the door. “Can I come in? I brought some stuff for you. No pressure. Just me and JJ.”

There was a long pause. Then the lock clicked.

Cleo pushed the door open slow. Brooke was still sitting on the tub’s edge, hands in her lap, the sleeves of JJ’s t-shirt pulled low past her fingers. She looked up once, and the second she saw Cleo, her whole body folded forward like it couldn’t hold itself up anymore.

Cleo caught her before she hit the floor.

Brooke didn’t cry. Didn’t speak, at first. She just held on — arms wrapped around Cleo’s middle, face buried in her chest like she was trying to hide inside her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t call. I should’ve—”

“Hey,” Cleo said, already swaying with her like they were dancing in place. “No. None of that. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing.”

JJ stood just inside the room, back to the counter, watching them quietly. He didn’t interrupt. Just kept his arms crossed like it was the only way to keep from reaching for her.

Brooke finally pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand even though they weren’t wet yet.

“I brought you some clothes,” Cleo said gently, crouching to open the small canvas bag at her side. “Not a ton — I didn’t wanna take too much in case…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Brooke’s throat went tight.

“But I grabbed the stuff I knew you loved,” Cleo continued. “The black leggings, your softest sweatshirt, the tee with the ripped collar you always steal from me. Your good socks. The ones with the little stars.”

Brooke’s lip wobbled. “You remembered.”

“Course I did.”

JJ crouched beside the counter now, closer than before. He didn’t say anything, just passed Cleo the brush off the sink.

“I didn’t—” Brooke started, embarrassed. “I didn’t brush it. I couldn’t.”

Cleo gave her a look. “Sit.”

Brooke did.

She winced when Cleo first lifted the strands, but the pain she expected never came. Cleo sectioned her hair with practiced fingers, her voice low and rhythmic, talking about conditioner and detangling spray she didn’t have but could go get later.

JJ watched the whole thing unfold from the corner of the room, his knees bent, arms resting on them, face unreadable. Just there. Quiet.

When Cleo brushed through a knot that should’ve hurt, it didn’t. Her fingers worked fast and kind, braiding each section down with such practiced ease it felt like a lullaby.

Brooke sat still through it all, fingers twisting in the hem of JJ’s shirt, her breathing quiet. When Cleo finished, JJ reached for the sweatshirt in the bag and helped guide Brooke’s arms into it. The same way he used to in high school, before parties, when Brooke was too tired or tipsy or sad to dress herself.

The hem fell over her thighs. The sleeves still smelled like home.

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly to him.

JJ finally met Cleo’s eyes then — just for a second — and that’s when they both saw it.

The bruises. Deep and high, barely visible beneath her collarbone, just under her hairline. Old enough to be yellowing. Ugly enough to speak volumes.

Cleo paused, just briefly. JJ’s jaw tensed. But neither of them said anything. They just locked eyes for a beat. And Brooke, sitting between them, still hadn’t cried. Not yet.

———

The living room was already in chaos by the time they made it down the hall. Voices. Overlapping. Snapping. Sarah’s whisper turned urgent, John B’s arms thrown up in frustration, and Pope—Pope’s voice cutting straight through the middle of it like a wire pulled too tight.

Cleo stepped in first. JJ followed, just a step behind Brooke, who hovered like a ghost near the doorway, barely breathing, sleeves clenched in her fists.

“I said I’m not waiting anymore!” Pope’s voice cracked. “You’re not gonna keep me from her like I’m some fucking threat!”

“Pope, no one said that—” Sarah tried, firm but gentle.

“Then what is it, Sarah? What is it, huh?” He was pacing, wild-eyed and furious in a way that didn’t come easy. “You all think I haven’t figured it out by now? She disappears for months. Her phone’s dead. She misses her classes, her shifts, her entire fucking life, and then you all start whispering like she’s made of glass and I’m the one that’ll shatter her?”

“Pope,” John B muttered, trying to reach for him.

“No.” Pope swatted his hand away. “Don’t you dare try to handle me. You don’t get it. You never got it.”

His voice broke then. Fully. Sharp and sudden.

“She’s not just my best friend, okay? She’s not just some girl I used to know growing up—Brooke is mine. She’s my person. My anchor. My fucking life.” Silence pulsed through the room like an aftershock. Pope’s hands were shaking.

“She was there when I thought I’d never come back from it,” he whispered. “When I killed someone, and I didn’t know who I was anymore, she didn’t even blink. She sat with me. She cleaned me up. She made me laugh when I didn’t think I’d ever laugh again.”

He swallowed hard. “And now you want me to stay away? You think I’m the one who’s gonna hurt her? You think I could ever—”

“Po.” It was a whisper. Small. Like it wasn’t meant to be heard. But he turned anyway. And there she was.

Brooke stood just past the hallway’s edge, hair half-braided and falling apart, eyes rimmed red but dry. Her lip trembled. Her arms were wrapped around herself like she could still hold everything in — but she was already coming undone.

“Po,” she said again, and this time it cracked open like glass under pressure. Her knees buckled before she could stop them.

Pope caught her mid-collapse, arms around her before she could hit the floor. She sobbed into him, a guttural, broken sound that shook her whole body. Her hands clutched at his shirt, her face buried in his chest like she could crawl inside it and disappear.

He held her tighter. He didn’t tell her to breathe. Didn’t say it would be okay. He just held on and let her fall apart.

JJ looked away, jaw clenched so tight it clicked. Cleo swallowed hard and turned toward the wall. Sarah pressed a hand to her mouth like she could somehow keep her heart from ripping out.

“I’m sorry,” Brooke gasped, voice ragged. “I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t—I didn’t—he said—”

“Shhh,” Pope whispered, voice breaking right alongside her. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Brooke shook her head, still gasping. “I should’ve told someone. I should’ve—”

“No,” he said fiercely, pulling her in tighter. “He did that. Not you. He hurt you.”

“I was so stupid—”

“You were trying to survive. You’re here. You made it. That’s what matters.” She sobbed harder. And Pope held her like he could carry it all for her.

JJ stepped out onto the porch then, as quiet as he could, and let the screen door close behind him. He didn’t light a cigarette. He didn’t say a word. He just leaned against the wall and covered his face with both hands like it was the only way to keep from breaking too.

———

Brooke tried to nap. Honest to God, she did. Pope had stayed until her breathing evened out, until she promised she’d try to rest, until Cleo gave her one more tight hug and told her she’d be back by dinner with her real shampoo. Sarah tucked a blanket around her like she was a kid, whispered something about soup, and then the house emptied out one by one.

She laid there for twenty-six minutes. Staring at the ceiling. Listening to the creak of the fan. Trying not to count her own heartbeat like a clock ticking down. Eventually, she gave up.

The house was quiet when she padded out into the main room, her socks whispering against the floor. She was still in her leggings and Cleo’s t-shirt — soft and oversized, the collar half falling off one shoulder. Her braid was coming undone. She didn’t fix it.

JJ was out on the porch, stretched in the hammock like he lived there full-time. One leg thrown over the side, sunglasses low on his nose, earbuds in. He looked like he hadn’t moved in an hour.

He noticed her immediately. Pulled one earbud out. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed, voice low.

He sat up, legs swinging off the edge. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head. “Tried. Failed. Big surprise.”

JJ studied her for a second. “You want company?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be alone, but I also don’t want to get the sad-eyes treatment anymore.”

“Copy that.” He stretched his arms overhead, spine cracking. “No sad eyes. Just dumb decisions and bad ideas.”

Brooke smiled, faint but real. “Honestly? That sounds perfect.”

JJ grinned like a spark caught. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

She blinked. “Go where?”

He stood, already tugging his shirt down. “Let’s take the boat.”

“The boat?”

“Yeah. We’ll cruise for a bit. Get out on the water. Pretend life’s not a complete shitshow.”

“I don’t have a suit,” she said, deadpan.

JJ stopped, turned, stared. “You’ve got underwear. A bra. And a t-shirt.”

“I also have bruised ribs, jackass.”

“Okay, so no surfing. Just sitting. Floating. Breathing. You can do that in your bite-sized ass underwear.”

“I am not bite-sized. And my ass is great.”

JJ tilted his head, amused. “You’re five two on a tall day, Brooke. Don’t lie to me.”

“Five four,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Normally, anyways. Okay, maybe five three. And bite-sized is just efficient.”

JJ raised both hands like he was surrendering to gravity itself. “Fine. You’re compact. Streamlined. Fun-sized.” She laughed then — a real one, short and startled. He grinned wider. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, short stack.”

Brooke crossed her arms. “I will push you off that boat.”

“You gotta catch me first.”

He was already backing toward the dock, that damn reckless glint in his eye, and Brooke followed — because maybe it was a dumb idea, maybe she looked like a shipwreck in her t-shirt and tangled hair and bruised bones, but for the first time in weeks, she wanted to feel something close to free.

———

The boat cut across the water like it had somewhere to be, but neither of them did.

JJ stood behind the wheel, one hand lazy on the throttle, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. The sun turned his skin golden, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen — discarded the second they hit open water. Brooke sat cross-legged on one of the seats, hair tangling in the wind, knotted tee pulled tight at her waist.

She’d changed before they left — not into anything special, just her softest shirt and a pair of white bikini underwear. The kind of underwear that wasn’t meant to be seen, exactly, but also… wasn’t hiding much. Her bra — also white, also stolen from Sarah’s drawer — was clearly a couple sizes too small. Not uncomfortable, just snug. Enough to make her tits look fucking incredible beneath the thin cotton of her tee. She didn’t seem to notice.

JJ noticed.

She was barefoot, legs bare and tan, toes curled against the warm fiberglass. She looked like summer. Like freedom. Like a postcard someone would shove in their back pocket just to keep.

He did not think about it.

“This is so dumb,” she called over the roar of the motor, already smiling.

“You said you wanted dumb,” he called back. “I’m delivering.”

Brooke leaned back, squinting at the sky. “You didn’t mention the full Baywatch cosplay.”

He glanced down at himself, faux-offended. “You’re telling me you’re not impressed?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m even looking.”

JJ smirked. “You’ve looked twice.”

“Once,” she argued, cheeks flushed.

“Twice. I counted.”

She tossed her head, trying not to grin. “Maybe I was squinting. You’re very… bright.”

“Sun-kissed,” he corrected.

“Sun-feral.”

JJ laughed, sharp and honest, and turned the wheel hard just to make the boat rock under her. Brooke shrieked, catching the seat with both hands, her legs shifting just enough to reveal a peek of hip and skin and fuck — JJ looked away immediately.

“JJ!”

“Oops.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Brooke stood, wobbling slightly with the sway of the boat, pointing at him with all the authority of a sun-warmed goddess in underwear and a shirt that should be illegal. “If I go overboard, I’m haunting you.”

JJ’s brain short-circuited for a second. He didn’t know if it was the legs or the laugh or the way her shirt clung just a little too tight across her chest, but he was actively fighting for composure.

“Noted,” he said finally, voice a little rough. “Death by boobs and boat day. Very on-brand.”

She giggled. Like really giggled. Head tossed back, nose scrunching, laugh spilling out like something she hadn’t remembered she could do.

JJ stared for a second too long.

Then turned the engine down a little so the boat slowed, humming along the surface. Brooke plopped back down with a sigh, legs folded under her, shirt sticking slightly to the curve of her stomach.

“This was a good idea,” she said, almost surprised.

JJ sat on the edge, one leg dangling off the side. “Told you. No one listens to me ‘til I’m right.”

“Because you’re only right like five percent of the time.”

“And yet here we are.”

She looked over at him, eyes warm, voice soft. “Thank you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t praying for cloud cover or divine intervention.

Because if she smiled at him like that again, in that shirt, in that underwear, with her legs bare and her laugh back in the world — he wasn’t gonna make it back to shore.

———

The new phone was sleek. Too sleek. It felt foreign in her palm, like something she hadn’t earned — smooth edges and a bright screen that didn’t hold the weight of everything she’d been through.

Sarah had gotten it for her that morning, right after they got back from the boat. She said Brooke needed to be able to reach people. Said she didn’t want her borrowing phones every time she needed to breathe.

“It’s the same number,” Sarah had explained. “But no iCloud backup. No Find My. Location’s off, privacy settings maxed. He can’t trace it.”

Brooke had nodded. Had said thank you. Had meant it.

She waited until Sarah left the room to check the notifications.

Twenty-three missed calls. Fifteen voicemails. A barrage of text messages that stretched back days. All from the same number. All from him.

Her hands started to shake before she even clicked the first one.

Baby, I don’t know where you are. Please call me.

This is insane. You’re blowing this out of proportion.

You know I hate when you ignore me.

Don’t make me come find you.

Her stomach turned. The bile rose before she could swallow it.

She opened the most recent voicemail and read the transcript. It was short.

“You think I won’t come after you? You think I don’t know exactly who you ran to? You’re wrong, Brooke. You’re so fucking wrong. This is what you wanted? Me being the bad guy? Fine. I can be that.”

She dropped the phone like it burned.

Sarah came back into the room just in time to see her flinch.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

Brooke shook her head.

Sarah crossed the space in three steps, kneeling in front of her. “Is it him?”

Brooke nodded. Her voice didn’t work at first. Then:

“He’s gonna come find me.”

Sarah’s eyes darkened.

“I don’t know how, but he will. He’s already trying. And I don’t want you all involved in this.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Sarah reached up and took both her hands, grounding and firm. “Brooke. You’re family. We’re already involved.”

“But—”

“No. Listen to me.” Sarah’s voice went sharp, then soft again. “You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t cause this. You survived it. And now you’re here, and we’ve got you. That’s it. End of story.”

Brooke blinked. The tears didn’t fall — not yet — but her eyes shimmered.

“It’s gonna be bad,” she whispered.

Sarah nodded. “Then we’ll be ready.”

The room was still. Outside, the sun glinted off the water. JJ was at work. The house felt quieter without him — like it was holding its breath.

Brooke didn’t say anything else.

But when Sarah pulled her into a hug, she didn’t pull away.

end.

[lisacameron99]

Hello my lovely readers!

So my Rafe Cameron x OC!Maybank fic, the more you says the less i know, is finished but I am going to be making a part two to the fic but it will be taking a different turn.

Wheezie will be entering the picture as a main character starting in chapter 7. We are flashing forwards six months, Rafe and Missy are in a good place relationship wise and it seemed fitting she to Missy’s past trauma to be a parental figure that she always craved to have. Rose left Wheezie and Missy and Rafe take her in. In this fic Wheezie is 7 years old and in 2nd grade.

Thank you for reading my fic! More content out soon!

[lisacameron99]

Chapter 6: Hits Diffetent

Warnings: emotional conflict, alcohol use, grief depiction, references to past abuse, verbal altercation, sexually explicit content, mention of physical violence

The door swung open before she even knocked. John B barely got a word out before she brushed past him and went straight for the kitchen.

“I need to get drunk.”

Sarah exchanged a look with John B. That look. The one that said this is bad, but not bad enough to stop her yet. Missy wasn’t crying. She wasn’t yelling. She was flat. And that was usually worse.

John B followed as she grabbed the tequila bottle off the counter. “You wanna talk first, or…?”

“Nope.” She popped the cap and poured herself a glass. “Drink first. Talk maybe. Later.”

Sarah came in closer, voice soft. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” The lie barely made it out of her mouth. “We’re fine. We’re just fighting. Normal couple shit. I just… didn’t wanna be home.”

John B’s jaw flexed. He could see it all over her face — whatever it was, it wasn’t fine.

“You sure you wanna start with tequila?” he asked, trying to lighten the air.

She knocked back the first shot like it was nothing. “Positive.”

Sarah sighed. “Okay. You’re staying here tonight. No argument.”

“Deal.” Another pour.

Neither of them liked seeing her like this — already halfway buzzed before sunset — but at least here, they could keep an eye on her. Keep the night from spiraling too far.

They drifted into the living room after a while. Sarah curled into John B’s side. Missy stayed on the floor, cross-legged with her third or fourth drink. Music hummed softly, the air tight but steady.

Then the front door creaked again.

Pope stepped inside with Cleo, Kie, and Kie’s girlfriend trailing behind him. His eyes landed on the half-empty bottle immediately.

“Missy?”

She didn’t look up. “Hey.”

Pope’s jaw twitched. Cleo gave him a quick warning glance but stayed quiet. The tension in the room shifted like a string pulled tight.

John B let out a quiet breath. “Here we go.”

—————————

For a while, everyone pretended it was fine. Kie tried to distract. Cleo gave Pope one hard look after another. John B was practically vibrating in his seat. Sarah squeezed his hand, silently begging Pope to leave it alone.

But Pope couldn’t. “You really think this is normal?” he finally said, voice low but sharp. “The way you run here every time he fucks up?”

Missy’s hand curled tight around her glass. “We fought. We’re fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Her voice came out clipped. “We fought. Couples fight.”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“Pope—” Sarah warned gently.

“Let it go, man,” John B added, voice tense.

Pope ignored them. “You don’t even hear yourself anymore.”

Missy’s head snapped up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’ve changed.”

“No,” she fired back. “I’ve grown up.”

He shook his head. “You used to fight to keep JJ away from people like him. You used to see through this bullshit.” Her stomach twisted. Her chest burned.

“Don’t you dare bring JJ into this,” she warned, voice tight.

“I think about JJ every time I see you with him,” Pope pushed. “Because you spent years trying to protect him. And now you’re dating the guy who spent just as long ruining both your lives.”

“Stop it, man,” John B snapped, standing up. “That’s enough.”

“Back off, Pope,” Sarah added sharply.

But Missy stood too, voice breaking now. “No. Let him say it.” Her hands were shaking. She swallowed hard, breathing quick, throat tight. “You think you’re better than him,” she said. “You always have.”

“Because I care about you!” Pope shouted.

“No.” She shook her head. “Because you don’t like that you can’t control me anymore.” That hit him like a slap. But she kept going. “I’m not that little girl who was in love with you anymore, Pope. You don’t get to make me feel like shit because I stopped falling for it. And you don’t get to make Cleo feel like shit either, just because we won’t let you guilt us into hating him.” Pope tried to speak, but her voice cut through sharper, louder, her eyes glassy now. “Rafe’s my boyfriend whether you like it or not. And you do not get to bring JJ up around me like that. Ever.”

Her chest heaved as the tears finally slipped free. The whole room was silent. Frozen. And then a voice came from the doorway, quiet but rough.

“I didn’t know you talked about me like that.” She whipped around. Rafe stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes locked only on her. His jaw was tense, but his face… his face was soft.

Her breath caught hard in her chest. Everything in her started shaking. She barely made it two steps before she was in his arms, crashing into his chest like it was the only safe place left on earth.

Rafe held her tight. One arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, pulling her in as the weight of everything finally broke through her shoulders. She buried her face into his sweatshirt, shoulders shaking against him as the tears came harder now.

John B quietly pulled Sarah into him. Cleo looked away, her own jaw tight. Nobody said anything. And Rafe whispered something only she could hear, his lips warm against her hair: “I’ve got you.” And he did.

—————————

Rafe didn’t let go of her for a long time.

Even once her tears quieted, even when everyone else started drifting into awkward small talk again, he kept one arm firmly wrapped around her waist like he was physically anchoring her to the ground. And she clung to him just as tightly.

The tequila still buzzed warm in her head. She wasn’t spinning, but everything felt just a little softer around the edges. Like if she let go for even a second, she might fall right through the floor.

At some point, Sarah came over with a water bottle and a quiet, worried smile.

“You okay?”

Missy nodded, but didn’t move from Rafe’s chest. “I don’t want him to corner me again.”

Sarah’s brows pinched. “He won’t.”

“Or Rafe.” Her voice was small. “I don’t want him to go after Rafe.”

Sarah glanced toward where Pope sat stiffly on the opposite side of the room, jaw tight, eyes everywhere but them. Then she looked back at Missy. “I won’t let him. Okay? I promise.”

Missy blinked up at her, suddenly serious.

“Pinky promise.”

Sarah smiled softly. “Pinky promise.”

They locked pinkies like they were kids again, and somehow that tiny squeeze made Missy’s eyes sting all over again.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Sarah said gently. “You’re my sister.”

Missy swallowed hard and looked up at Rafe like she was making sure he was still there. Still hers. His arm tightened instinctively.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispered.

“I know.” Her voice cracked, but she managed a small, tipsy smile. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Not a chance.”

And for the first time all night, she let herself lean into him fully. Let herself feel safe again.

—————————

Later that night, back at his place, she curled into him like she always did — legs tangled with his, head resting on his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns across his ribs beneath his shirt.

The tequila buzz had faded into something softer. Heavy, but warm.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Do you still love me?”

Rafe blinked, head tilting down so he could see her face. “Baby. What kind of question is that?”

She shrugged against him, not looking up. “I don’t know. Just… everything tonight. I keep thinking maybe you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not worth it.”

His chest tightened. He slid his hand up into her hair, gently tugging so she’d meet his eyes.

“I’m so in love with you it’s stupid,” he said, voice low but fierce. “There’s never been a second where that’s a question.”

Her eyes shined a little. “Okay. Good. Because I love you a lot, Rafe.”

“I know, baby.”

“It scares me sometimes,” she whispered. “How much I love you. But I love you too much to let you go. Even when I’m mad. Even when you drive me insane.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Same, baby. Same.”

For a moment they just stayed like that, breathing each other in.

Then Rafe exhaled. “I should probably tell you something.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I picked a fight earlier.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I didn’t mean to start shit with you. I was already pissed off.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, then smirked. “Some asshole made fun of me for dating a ‘Progue girl.’ Said I must’ve hit rock bottom.”

Her stomach dropped a little. “Rafe—”

“I punched him,” he admitted. “Not my best moment. But I’m not sorry I did it.”

“Baby…”

“I should’ve told you. Instead of lying and being a dick earlier. That part I regret.” He ran his hand along her back. “But not the punching. I’ll punch him again if he ever says your name like that.”

Her throat tightened, but she smiled. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But I’m your dumbass.”

That earned him a small giggle, and then she shifted just enough to tilt her face up and press her mouth to his. Soft at first, but the second his hand slid into her hair again, it deepened.

Her body moved against him slowly, just enough to make him hum against her lips.

“You keep doing that,” he murmured, voice dropping, “and we’re not gonna get much sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want much sleep,” she whispered back, breath warm against his mouth.

His fingers trailed down her side, gripping her hip just a little tighter. The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, as her leg hooked over his waist, pulling herself closer.

And it was heading exactly where it always did with them — toward that dangerous, dizzying edge.

—————————

Her lips were still warm against his when she shifted again, sliding her leg fully across his hips until she was straddling him.

Rafe groaned softly, hands instinctively finding her waist as she settled on top of him. Her sweatshirt slipped off one shoulder, messy hair falling around her face like a curtain.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low, thumb stroking slow circles along her skin.

She nodded, breath shallow. “Yeah.”

“Words, baby.”

“I want you,” she whispered, voice catching. “Please.”

That was all he needed. His hands slid up under her sweatshirt, pulling it over her head, baring her completely. He sat up slightly, mouth finding the soft skin of her chest, kissing along her collarbone as her fingers threaded into his hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, voice thick.

Her hands moved to tug at his shirt and he helped her pull it off, tossing it aside. His bare chest pressed against hers, warm and solid as she kissed him again — slower this time, like she wanted to memorize every inch.

When he finally slid inside her, they both gasped — that soft, familiar stretch pulling them together like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

“Fuck,” Rafe whispered against her mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Always so perfect, baby.” She rocked her hips slowly, adjusting, fingers braced on his chest.

But Rafe’s hands found her hips again, gripping firmly. “Let me,” he said softly.

She nodded, completely open to him. “Okay.”

He moved her for him — slow, steady, deep. Guiding her up, then pulling her back down onto him in controlled, deliberate movements that made her breath hitch every time he bottomed out.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes, meeting his — completely locked in.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking a little.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, voice shaky.

He kept moving her — up, down — keeping her pace, making her feel every inch, every second. His thumbs rubbed slow circles along her waist, grounding her.

“You feel so good like this,” he whispered. “Always.”

Her hands slid up his chest, anchoring herself to him, hips starting to shake as her breath turned into soft gasps.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed.

“Never,” he promised.

The deeper it got, the softer his voice became. “You’re mine, baby. You’ve always been mine.”

She leaned forward, forehead resting against his, moaning softly with every slow roll of his hips beneath her. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rough. It was theirs.

A slow, burning ache that built between them — not just from the pleasure, but from everything that had boiled over tonight. The fight. The tears. The fear. All of it melted into this.

Just him. Just her. Safe. Together.

—————————

They picked the little café off the marina. Neutral territory. Public enough that neither of them could blow up, quiet enough that they wouldn’t pretend everything was fine.

Missy sat across from him, hands wrapped around her water glass. Pope was nursing a coffee he hadn’t touched.

The silence sat thick between them until he finally spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Missy blinked. “About what?”

“About everything,” he admitted. “About you. About Cleo. About how I feel. I thought I knew. I’ve thought I knew a hundred times.”

She stayed quiet, letting him try to find his way through it.

“I guess… I keep thinking if I could figure out how to be okay with you being with Rafe, I could fix everything else in my head too.” He exhaled. “But I’m not there. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Missy’s throat tightened, but she nodded slowly. “I appreciate you being honest.”

“I’m sorry if my being… confused has ever hurt you,” Pope added softly.

It cracked something loose in her chest.

“You have hurt me, Pope,” she said gently. “For a long time.”

His face crumpled slightly.

“I was twelve the first time I realized I loved you,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you in some way ever since. And you’ve given me just enough, over and over, to keep me hoping. A look, a moment, a promise you never made but I still held onto.”

Pope looked down, jaw tight.

“But you never really picked me.” Her voice shook. “Not fully. Not like Rafe has.”

He flinched slightly at the name, but she didn’t back down.

“Since JJ’s memorial, Rafe has chosen me every time. Even when I’m a mess. Even when I’m hard to love. He shows up. He stays.” She blinked back the sting in her eyes. “I’ve never had that before.”

Pope rubbed a hand over his mouth, nodding a little. “In some other universe… maybe we ended up together.”

“Maybe,” she agreed softly. “But not this one.”

He exhaled. “In this one, I think we’re supposed to be friends.”

A small smile pulled at her lips. “I want that. I want us to be good again.”

“I don’t know if I can ever like him.” Pope’s voice was quiet but honest.

“I want you to try,” Missy said. “I need you to try.”

He gave her a sad little smile. “It’s hard to forget he beat the shit out of me, Miss.”

Her stomach twisted. “I know. And I’m not asking you to pretend that didn’t happen. But he’s sober now. He’s not the same. And if Sarah — of all people — can forgive him, I need you to find a way too.”

Pope was quiet for a long moment, staring at his coffee. Then he looked back up at her. “I’ll try,” he said. “But I’m not promising it’ll be easy.”

“I don’t need easy,” Missy said softly. “I just need you.”

He finally reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’ll always have me.” It wasn’t perfect. But it was a start.

—————————

The cemetery was quiet. Missy sat cross-legged in the grass, fingers twisting at a loose thread on her sweatshirt sleeve. The stone in front of her was smooth, familiar. She let her eyes trace each letter, like seeing his name written out still made it real.

Jackson John Maybank.

“Gone but never lost.”

She hated that line. She understood why they chose it. But it wasn’t true. He was lost. Every day without him felt like something missing from her chest. Like part of her ribcage never grew back.

She hadn’t meant to come today. She hadn’t let herself come here much at all, not really. But after the last few days — after Pope, after Rafe, after finally saying things out loud she’d kept buried for years — she felt hollow. Like there was a grief she hadn’t let herself touch, and it was leaking through the cracks now whether she wanted it to or not.

The air smelled like salt and fresh-cut grass. The wind shifted gently, carrying the soft crunch of approaching footsteps.

Missy didn’t turn. She already knew who it was.

Sarah’s voice came soft, careful. “Hey.”

Missy blinked, but didn’t look up. “Hey.”

Sarah stepped around and quietly sat down beside her, cross-legged in the grass. She set a small bouquet of wildflowers down — lilies, soft white blooms. Probably for Ward’s headstone. But she didn’t say that.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Sarah finally leaned into her, resting her head against Missy’s. The simple weight of it — her best friend, her almost-sister — made something sharp catch in Missy’s throat.

“I thought it would stop hurting like this by now,” Missy whispered, voice breaking.

Sarah didn’t try to answer. She didn’t offer empty comfort. She just squeezed her hand gently, grounding her.

The silence settled again — heavy, but shared. They stayed like that, heads pressed together, breathing through the ache neither of them had words for. And for now, that was enough.

—————————

By the time she pulled into the driveway, her chest still felt heavy, but lighter than it had earlier. Like she’d finally let some of the grief breathe.

She let herself in quietly. The house smelled like fresh coffee and a mix of dirt and Rafe’s methyl cigarettes. It was peaceful. Safe.

In the kitchen, she stopped. On the counter sat a tall vase filled with daisies. Bright, simple, happy little bursts of sunshine. Her favorite. Next to it was a bag of her favorite chocolate — the stupidly overpriced kind she always told herself not to buy, but secretly adored.

Her throat tightened a little, but this time it wasn’t sadness. Just that full kind of feeling she never quite got used to. A little card sat tucked between the flowers. In his messy handwriting:

For my girl. Because you deserve good things every single day - but especially for putting up with me.

She blinked back the sting in her eyes and smiled, tucking the card into her sleeve as she made her way upstairs.

“Rafe?” she called softly.

“Office!” his voice echoed back. She didn’t hesitate. Pushed the door open and found him at his desk, halfway spinning in his chair as he scrolled through something on his laptop.

When he looked up, his whole face lit up. “Hey, baby—” She didn’t let him finish. Crossed the room in three quick steps and practically launched herself into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Rafe caught her easily, laughing under his breath. “Whoa. Hi.”

She squeezed him tighter, pressing her face into his neck, breathing him in. “Hi.”

His arms came around her, one hand stroking her back, the other settling at her waist like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was soft against his skin. “I just… needed to be here. With you.”

“You’re always safe here, baby.”

She smiled into his neck. “Thank you for the flowers.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Figured my girl deserved some daisies today.”

“And the chocolate?”

“Bribery.” That earned a soft giggle from her, which made him smile even more. She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still a little glassy but shining.

“I really, really love you, Rafe.”

His smile softened, voice dropping warm. “I really, really love you too, baby.”

He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned in, kissing her softly like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, all the heaviness of the last few days melted into nothing but him. Just them. Safe. Home.

End.