#but it's so indescribably hard to find a place to live in this city

[darcyolsson]

life update ive actually been feeling a lot better lately <3 will be heading back to my parents' place again tomorrow but i've been at my own place since friday which is the longest i've managed that since the summer :) still not back to normal but slowly getting there it seems thank gawd

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Mama - Chris Sturniolo

Part One - Positive Pairings - babydaddy!Chris x fem!Reader Summary - Chris attends your first ultrasound with you, and when you realize you have to have transvaginal, he’s there to comfort you. Warnings - established relationship, uncomfortable situation??, a lil fluff, first pregnancy appointment, mentions of pregnancy W/c - 1774 A/n - Serving more babydaddy!Chris content 🫡 I hope everyone likes it. This will be a series 🥰 (Also haven't proofread this all the way so forgive me for mistakes) Masterlist Current Series - City of Love II Top Liked - Pierced II Most Recent - Alright, I Love You

“Arrived,” Siri sounded through the speakers of your car as you pulled into the parking lot of your gynecologist's office. You and Chris were at your first appointment, you know, the one that confirms the pregnancy.

Swearing to secrecy until you got the first sonogram, neither of you had told anyone, not even family. It was hard keeping such a big secret from Matt and Nick, especially since you were at their house all the time, you practically lived there. It was even harder for Chris because he never kept anything from them. He wanted them to be surprised, but he was also more nervous than he had ever been, thinking they’d judge him. I mean, who wouldn’t? You and Chris had only been in a relationship for a little over six months, and six months seemed way too soon to bring a new life into this world. Your relationship being in the public eye was not something you planned this soon either - three months in, you and Chris were spotted out after dinner. A few fans stopped him to take pictures, you thought you did a good job at blending in the background, but you couldn’t be more wrong. The next morning, everyone knew who you were, forcing the two of you to ‘out’ your relationship a few days later. 

After finding a parking spot, you shift your car into park and let out a long sigh. Chris’s eyes shift to you, “it won’t be that bad.” He shoots you a goofy smile, trying to enlighten the mood. “I know,” you scrunch your face, “I’m just nervous.”

Nervous was in understatement. Your gut had been turning ever since you saw the positive pregnancy test, and your nausea didn’t decrease a bit. You watch as Chris brings his hand to yours and interlocks your fingers, bringing your hand up to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on it. Redness creeps to your cheeks and you press your lips together, he always knew how to ease your worries. You were lucky you could rely on him in vulnerable times like this.

“Its gonna be okay,” he tells you in a reassuring tone, “nothing to worry about,” before placing another peck on the back of your hand. Collecting your thoughts for a minute before exiting the car, you enter the building together, heading straight for the elevator. This was your regular gyno, so you knew exactly what floor to go to. You press the button for the fourth floor, watching it light up as your heart pumps at a rapid pace. Knowing you were about to see your baby for the first time gave you an indescribable feeling. You were nervous, excited, and shocked all at the same time. Life felt like a fever dream since you found out. 

Ding!

The elevator chimes, indicating you’re at your chosen floor. You and Chris approach the front desk with the same pace, slow and sluggish. Chris felt more out of place than you did but he told himself he was there to support you every step of the way. He knew bringing a baby into this world was going to be a life changing experience for the both of you, but he still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact you were actually pregnant with his baby. He worried about so many things - telling his family, telling the world, if he'd be a good dad, if you'd be a good mom. And if he was being completely honest, he feared having a baby would put too much pressure on your relationship. That didn't stop him from stepping up and supporting you every step of the way, though.

Checking in and filling out papers, the nurse calls you back fairly quickly. The two of you get settled in a room, not saying a word to each other, only exchanging a few toothless smiles here and there. Before the nurse steps out she hands you a gown, “you’ll need to change into this before the doctor comes in.”

You quickly change into the hospital gown and sit back down in the bed, “I’m so scared,” you groan, running a hand through your hair. Chris had been rummaging through the cabinets since he entered the room, currently blowing up a glove like it was a balloon. 

“Nothing to be scared of mama,” he coos, taking the glove from his lips, and quickly tying it. Chris knew being a goofball was the quickest way to make you laugh, and as long as he kept you laughing, he knew you weren’t overthinking. You snort at him, “Mama?” making fun of the new nickname. He playfully knits his brows together, “what's wrong with that? I mean, I can call you my baby momma if you want,” he laughs, a smirk stretches across his lips before he flings the hand shaped balloon at you. 

“It’s not funny, Chris! They’re gonna stick something up my coochie,” you groan. He raises his eyebrows, obviously concerned. “Up your cooch-,” he blurts out before getting cut off by a light knock on the door. You quickly bat his glove balloon away and call out, “come in!”

Your gynecologist opens the door and pokes her head in, “Goodmorning!” She had a bright aura about her that made every room warm when she entered it, which was one of the reasons she was your doctor. You knew you were in good hands when it came to her. “So, I see you’re here to confirm your pregnancy,” she beams. Your eyes drift to Chris and back to her, nodding slightly and giving her a polite smile. 

She takes a seat on the stool next to your bed, “well, on your paperwork it says you were about five days late when you tested positive which means we’ll have to do a transvaginal ultrasound.” You watch as she picks up a wand-like probe, your eyes widening at the sight of it, “don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. We only do this when women are early on in their pregnancies, to get a better image of the fetus. Once you're 10 weeks, you'll get the abdominal scan, which is on your belly,” she explains in a cool tone.

“So, she won’t have to do it again?” Chris chimes in, clearly worried for you. Your gyno looks over at him, “you're dad?” Chris nods his head almost immediately, making a smile pull at your lips. It was cute how concerned he was, and it was even cuter how quick he was to take on the role of daddy. “Well, dad, no she won’t have to do this again and it shouldn’t be painful, just a bit uncomfortable,” she reassures the both of you. Chris nods, “okay, good,” mumbling quietly before scooting his chair closer to the bed, "cause that thing look scary."

The doctor gets you prepped, putting your feet in stirrups, spreading lubricant across the device, and pressing a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her.

“Now, you’ll feel a little pressure. Just let me know if it's painful or not,” she tells you before inserting the probe into you slowly. Your face contorts in discomfort, Chris noticing quickly, taking your hand in his, and stroking it with his thumb. “Feeling okay?” the doctor asks from the most awkward position, in between your legs. “Definitely uncomfortable,” you tell her honestly, making her chuckle. “No pain, right?” she questions, making you shake your head, “no. No pain.”

Your response makes your boyfriend lean in to place a comforting kiss on your temple, “doing so good mama.” Chris had always been very attentive, showering you with random compliments, kisses, and gifts. Ever since he found out about your pregnancy, not only was he waiting on you hand and food, but he also became extremely clingy. Something about knowing you were growing a mini version of him made his feelings for you stronger, if he wasn’t in love before, he certainly was now. In his mind, your relationship was pretty fast paced for only being together for six months. Sex was given, but the two of you already shared the first ‘I love you’s, and were practically attached at the hip. He was your best friend and boyfriend all-in-one. Though, your fast paced relationship scared the absolute shit out of him, it wasn't going to make him walk out on you or his baby. 

The room falls to an awkward silence, only the sounds of the doctors tapping away at buttons on her monitor. "Sorry, just trying to get a good picture," she tells you. Your eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss the first appearance of your future child in the slightest. Anticipation boils in your stomach and your heart thumps furiously in your chest, knowing you're about to see the new growing being inside of you, the one that had been making you cry and throw up nonstop the last couple weeks. Looking up at Chris, his expression is the same, fixated on the screen. "There we go," the doctor chuckles, "you have a stubborn one. Every time I'd get close, they'd move." You watch as the image of your little, tiny bean pops up on the screen, the fast heartbeat sounding out of the speakers as she turns the volume up and zooms in. Suddenly, all the worries and questions running rampant through your mind disappeared for a moment, and it was the same for Chris.

The inexpressible feeling lays deep in your chest and tear brim your water line. "Awe," Chris coos, "he looks like lil peanut," his eyes filling with lust as he tears his eyes from the screen to look at you. His comment earns a giggle from you, the baby did look like a little peanut, but the fact he was already manifesting a baby boy made your heart flutter. You blink away the tears, and suck in a breath, "looks like you're measuring at a little over seven weeks. Seems pretty accurate to me since you dated your last period, but at your next appointment you'll get confirmation on how far along you are."

Chris nods, watching the doctor print out copies of the sonogram, "is there any way we can get extra copies?" She gets you situated, letting you fix yourself, "Of course, how many?" You watch as Chris holds up his fingers to count, "like ten. If that's okay."

"We don't need that many," you snort, sitting up in the bed. Chris playfully scoffs at you, "yes we do. Our baby is gonna be so loved."

🏷️ - @lvrsturniolo @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @thepubeburgler @loveparqdise @emely9274 (if anyone else wants on my tag list, just let me know!!)

If your tags aren't popping up, please make sure you have them turned on so you will get notified when I post. I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to be rude by not tagging when they asked ☹️

[sommerbueckers]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬²

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THE RESTAURANT THAT had been decided on was located in the heart of the city. It was that of a classy establishment, with live chamber music working to create an ataraxic environment.

Paige was seated on the second level, her exuberance irrepressible as she anticipated Myla's arrival. She busied herself with her phone, idly scrolling from app to app, rereading text messages between her and the very woman she waited on.

Two days had passed since the fortuitous run-in at the grocery store and the anticipation of the night to come had been involuntarily keeping both girls up.

Paige had called ahead of time to make a reservation the moment that Myla had agreed to dinner, and though she could've simply taken her somewhere more casual, Paige yearned to impress her. She had worn the nicest shirt she could find in her suitcase; a plain black button up with short, cuffed sleeves. She borrowed a pair of Aubrey's black dress pants, hoping Myla wouldn't notice the way they slightly pooled at her ankles.

When the girl finally did arrive and right on time for their agreed seven o'clock dinner, she looked indescribably beautiful. She wore a simple but flattering black dress that hugged her shape just right. Her eyes twinkled when she caught sight of Paige, sitting there stilly with the dumbest of looks upon her face.

The waiter led her over to the table, Paige nearly toppling over as she moved to stand and greet her.

"Hi again," she breathed out, wrapping an arm around Myla's shoulder.

'Can she tell how nervous I am?' Paige thought when she retook her seat, discreetly wiping her palms on her pants.

Myla didn't look nearly as trepidatious as Paige; her demeanor calm and collected while she browsed through the menu.

"This place is really nice," the girl commented, her eyes filled with curiosity as she examined her surroundings.

Paige nodded, she had already gotten the chance to familiarize herself with the space, but she did it again as though it were the first time.

"Yeah, it is. I didn't realize how nice it was when I made the reservation," the blonde admitted, her hand instinctively finding the back of her neck in attempt to ease her nerves.

"You made a reservation?"

Paige's mouth went dry, mind trying to decipher the look that Myla was giving her. For a moment she looked taken aback, eyebrows heavenward and lips marginally parted. But Myla's realization of her own expression registered before Paige could truly make sense of it, quickly contorting in appreciation.

"Well uh — yeah, it's really hard to get in here without one so," Paige shrugged cooly. She wanted to make it seem like her unusual act of preparation had been solely because she wanted to eat here, not because she wanted to ensure that nothing went wrong.

Myla nodded thoughtfully, not pushing the topic any further. After all, Paige hadn't planned ahead because she liked her, it was simply because she was interested in the place. That's what the model had been led to believe, and she had no reason not to, other than the slither of hope that maybe her recently rediscovered feelings were reciprocated.

The waiter came back around and took their drink orders, bringing out a Dirty Shirley for Paige and a glass of Barolo for Myla.

"You like wine?" the blonde questioned, noticing the spark of satisfaction that developed in her eyes when she took a sip.

"Very much," Myla grinned brightly, "this one has like a sweet and fruity taste to it. Well there's dried fruit in it so obviously..." she mumbled the last part, eyes frantically glancing around the room in embarrassment.

Paige pretended not to notice, "Ion really drink wine but you're makin' it sound good with the fruit thing 'n' all."

"Wanna try?"

"Nah it's cool."

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

As the night aged, the conversation flowed effortlessly, with both women growing increasingly at ease in each other's company. Paige's nerves had subsided, replaced by an irresistible compulsion to prolong the evening. She had savored the dinner beyond expectations, now relishing in the sobremesa that followed.

Myla was recovering from a joke that Paige had made, fanning away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Her smile was incandescent, illuminating the corners of the place where the lights couldn't quite reach.

"I don't remember you being this funny," she said breathlessly, crossing her forearms on the table.

Paige pressed her hand against her heart, feigning hurt. "That hurts my feelings y'know, all those times we had to move seats 'cause you couldn't stop laughing."

"Unt uh! We had to move 'cause you kept tryna make me laugh, and you failed every time!"

"What?!" Paige's eyes widened, "You cannot be serious right now."

"I most definitely am."

"Makin' you laugh was like learning how to ride a bike, hard at first but once I got the hang of it, it was over wit' for you."

"You're delusional."

Myla shook her head, reaching for her glass of wine. It was her second of the night, and she was starting to feel the effects of it. She couldn't stop staring at the woman in front of her, admiring the way her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the way the corner's of her eyes creased as she laughed.

She felt like she was sixteen all over again, silently crushing on the basketball star that nobody could get enough of. Back then she had purely been a face in the crowd, one in a million except she was the million. She couldn't, for the life of her, grow the balls to utter a word to Paige outside of class, dispiritedly watching as the blonde conversed with everyone around her.

Things were different now, at least they were in this moment. She and Paige had actually made plans to go out rather than being forced together by a class schedule. Myla was different now. She had confidence and class, not that Paige wouldn't have noticed her if she didn't. It was because Paige did notice her when she didn't that they found themselves together now.

The waiter placed the check on the table, giving each of the girls a smile before disappearing again.

Myla pulled out her card, she had been the one to suggest going out and it was only right that she pay.

Paige pulled her card out, she had been the one to pick such an expensive restaurant and it was only right she pay.

"What're you doing?" they both questioned in unison.

Myla frowned, "I invited you out tonight, let me pay."

"No, I picked this place so I should be the one to pay."

Paige held her eyes in an intense staring contest, neither of them willing to back down. Myla could feel that helpless teen coming out again, her heartbeat quickening, threatening to beat out of her chest if she stared at Paige any longer. Her lashes fluttered, and she peeled her eyes away to look at anything else.

Paige slipped her card into the leather booklet, and soon after they were ambling out of the restaurant and onto the street.

"You takin' a taxi?" Paige asked.

"Neh, my place is like a five minute walk."

"You're gonna walk in the dark?"

"Yeah."

"Sike. I'll walk you," the blonde offered.

"Oh Paige you don't have to do that, really, I walk around by myself all the time," the shorter girl laughed.

But Paige insisted.

The air brought a comfortable chill to the city, people still lingered on the streets, the roads still as crowded as usual. New York was never quiet, but it was an aspect to be thankful for in a moment like this. Neither Paige nor Myla spoke, both just basking in the beauty of the city as they walked side by side — shoulders occasionally brushing against each other.

'Did she mean to do that?' Paige had asked herself the first time.

But judging by the smile Myla had given her after the second, she concluded that the answer to her question was 'yes.'

They reached the building in no time. Paige whistled as she looked above her, squinting her eyes to see the top floor. She still couldn't. The two of them were silent for a few moments longer, not knowing what to say or how to end the night. Eventually, Myla decided that she had found the right words.

"When do you leave again?" she faked forgetfulness, snapping her eyebrows together.

"Friday night."

"Hm," the girl hummed, "well I had fun tonight, it was really good catching up with you."

"Yeah, you too."

"It's too bad we can't do it again."

This was it, the ball was in Paige's court. She could either nod her head in agreement, ending whatever they had begun to rekindle, or she could take it upon herself to find an alternative. Myla hoped it was the latter.

'Too bad? That means she wants to see me, right?'

'I'm thinkin' bout this too much, i'm taking too long,'

'Fuck, say something!'

"Who says we can't?" the blonde smirked.

"Well, you live in Connecticut," Myla reminded her as though she had forgotten.

"It's a two 'n' a half hour drive, and wit' the right music, that's nothing."

Myla's eyebrows rose, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You're gonna drive down here every time you wanna see me?"

'Wanna see me? Was that too much?'

"If I feel like it," she shrugged.

"Okay, if you say so."

"And I do."

Myla pressed her lip between her teeth to conceal the exuberance of her smile, but unbeknownst to her, the glimmer in her eyes betrayed her. She tilted her head when Paige opened her arms, unquestioningly letting herself be embraced by the blonde. They acknowledged to themselves that the hug had lasted longer than it should've, though their expressions showed no regrets.

Paige towered over the girl even in her heels, providing a warmth greater than the summer air ever could. It was the perfect moment for a kiss, and had they been sure that's what each of them wanted, they would've. But as the saying goes, "Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd."

'Fuck you Voltaire,' Myla thought to herself.

"Goodnight Paige," she grinned brightly.

"See you later, Myla."

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𝐚/𝐧: this chapter is kinda short and it still took forfuckingever to write so read it with care.

(should start charging yall for this shit !)

[trulyhblue]

Home Away From Home

Lauren Hemp x Aussie! Reader

Warnings: fluff, but awkward.

A/N — I know Caroline Weir scored the two goals in the Man City game that I talk about, but I've changed it a bit :)

Masterlist

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Growing up in Australia was among the greatest privileges you had as a child.

Even in the midst of your career — a job you've dreamed of since you were little — your home soil was indescribable; nothing could beat the familiarity of home.

When the 2023 World Cup was announced to take place in Australia, you were feeling the effects of homesickness after six long months in Europe. You were signed by Manchester City at Nineteen, playing a critical midfield position after being a regular sub for your old club back in Australia. Your parents were sceptical of you leaving so early to such a big club. In no way were you prepared to face the challenges of adulthood as a whole other country, on the opposite side of the Earth.

You had only been playing for the Matildas for a couple of months when you were first signed to City, and it wasn't until the following year when your fellow Aussie teammates Alanna, and eventually Hayley and Mary, that you had the comfort of home to nurture you during rough patches.

Your family was your biggest supporter. Growing up, they sacrificed everything to meet the needs of their football journey. Your parents would leave early from work early to take you to training and surrender endless personal endeavours so that you could prosper in your dreams of going pro. You were very grateful for all that they had done, and as a result, their sacrifices became your motivation to be the best you could possibly be. You lived and breathed football. Everything revolved around football.

But when you moved to City, you found yourself stuck in a trance by a certain English Blonde.

For the most part, you kept to yourself at training. You didn't want to cause any trouble, and it seemed that most of the girls knew each other from youth squads, prior teams, or roommates at National Camps. You struggled to find your place in the squad at first. Being a relatively young team, you had lots of girls around your age, willing to be your friend, but the absence of home and lack of connection to the United Kingdom combined to make your personality shrink under a dismissive persona.

When Alanna joined City, you offered your apartment to her, having come from North London beforehand. Over the next months, you found comfort in the familiar Aussie accent, finding solace in the sliver of home you felt so distant to.

You still remained shy at training, trying hard and pushing out of your comfort zone every time someone had a conversation with you. Alanna found it hard to believe how introverted you were, having seen your confidence shine at Matilda’s Camps, and the Manchester Girls couldn't believe their ears when Alanna told them about how you were at home.

When Hayley came, you were smiling more. It wasn't that you weren't happy at City before the Australian girls arrived. You were thriving. In the 2020/21 season, you were dubbed as Young Player of The Year and had four ‘Player Of The Match’ awards under your belt. You worked extremely hard to make the starting eleven regularly, and people would often compliment your subtle but impressionable skills on the field. You weren't fast, but you were technical. You thought of the play that hadn't happened yet, shaping the game with unexpected yet calculated crosses. For two years, you had the second most assists in the WSL, merely missing Beth Mead.

In all honesty, the effects of having the reminder of home did help to boost your performance not only on the pitch but behind the scenes as well.

You can remember tapping your hands against the rim of your cubby, your home kit baggy on your figure. It was a very important game today — the final of the FA Women’s League Cup — against reigning champions Chelsea. You were starting, and your family had flown over to watch.

Your nerves upon walking out were tremendous. This was your first time starting in a final in the WSL. You don't remember a time you felt your hands shake this much. Alanna and Hayley were preparing for the match on either side of you, their faces impassive when both teams lined up in the tunnel of Cherry Rose Records Stadium.

Your heart was thumping out of your chest, palms sweating as you took your spot on the field.

When the whistle blew, you tuned everything out.

A powerful shot from Sam Kerr left Chelsea in the lead halfway through the first half. You tried hard to maneuver your way through the likes of Charles and Ingle, passing to Georgia and Keira as you struggled to pass Chelsea’s defence. Lucy was given a yellow which heightened the tension reeling in the stands. You buried the apprehensive bile rising in your stomach when the halftime whistle blew, signalling everyone to rush back to the changing rooms.

You placed your head in your hands, taking slow, desperate sips of your water bottle as you listened to the pep talks from all the players. Gareth Taylor, your manager, was shouting encouragement from across the room, staring into each and every one of your eyes, assuring the team that they could make a comeback.

“I want you to want this.” He said, circling the room with so much fervour that the room felt warmer. “I want to see the determination in your eyes. I want to see it in the tackles, the plays, the kicks, everything. The opportunities you making are good, they just need more precision.”

It was almost the start of the second half when Gareth asked for you, leading you over to the other side of the changing rooms, towards the shorter figure of one of your teammates.

Lauren looked just as nervous as you, but you hoped that you his your nerves a little better than her. Her blonde hair was held up in a pony, and small wisps of baby hairs framed her face after being exempted from the wind. She was a year older than you but has been in Manchester since 2018. Other than the odd, unusual sentence or two, neither of you had properly interacted.

Lauren looked up at you, her beady eyes locking with yours as she licked her lips, exchanging glances with the floor and you, awaiting the purpose of the conversation.

“I want you two to work together this half.” Your Manager urged. Both you and Lauren looked at him in surprise. He must've caught on since he held his hands up. “I know we haven't practised much between the two of you, I know. But Y/N, your crosses over the head of Chelsea defenders will inevitably shape up some opportunities for Hempo. Lauren, you know what to do when something comes up. I believe that truly, alright? Do you understand?”

You were still mulling over Gareth’s words when the whistle blew for the second half, but you felt an uncertain pair of eyes look out for where you kicked the ball. The surveillance of the English forward did not irk you. In fact, it pushed you to do as you were told.

It was two minutes in when an opportunity arose. You were given the ball by Alanna, who had pelted it away after a scary interaction with her and Kerr.

Gareth’s words played in your head, taunting you as the blonde’s eyes watched your actions intently. You were hesitant to do as he said. This was the one game your parents were here to see. Never once had they been to Europe, having not had the money to be able to fund both your football and fancy holidays overseas. You wanted to make them proud. You didn't want to risk such an important opportunity for it to go out or concede and let your team down.

You found Georgia and kicked it by her. She followed it up the middle of the field, passing it to one of your forwards, hand up in celebration when it went past the Goalie.

But for some reason, you couldn't find it in you to celebrate. You refused to meet the eyes of Lauren, who was no doubt throwing you a disappointed glance. You could feel the betrayal radiating in violent waves. You ran back to your starting position without a peep, determined to shake the guilt with another chance. You needed to win this game. You’d do whatever it took to do so.

Another goal from Ellen White led your team one in front, but it gave no comfort whatsoever in a game like this. If anything, it put the stakes higher. You hated penalties, the feeling of dread and anxiety filling you everything you watched each player attempt to concede. Even more so, you hated taking penalties. The possibility of that happening was enough to motivate you even more.

Guro Reiten was subbed off for Lauren James. A fresh pair of legs was dangerous coming up to the seventieth minute.

Chelsea was drawing closer and closer to equalizing with your second goal, causing an uprise in the tension between both the teams and the people watching. You grew more angsty when one of their attempts hit the crossbar, but when it landed near Keira’s feet, being shot past to where you stood, you knew this was now or never.

You sprinted down the wing with Georgia by your side, but you were only focused on the blonde in front of you.

“Here! Here!” Georgia screamed, holding out her hand to signal to you that she was ready. You contemplated it. There had been many times when Georgia had done that, and you had crossed the ball to her, and she had easily swished it past the goalie. You never doubted Georgia for a second, and you definitely knew she would've been able to shoot from where she was — she was clearly onside. But the Chelsea defenders had studied your gameplay back to front, and the same old cross to Georgia was something they had trained for — something you had trained for.

Something clicked in your mind when you met Lauren’s eyes. Something ignited inside of you. She must've felt it too, because she didn't even reach her hand up to signal towards you.

You both just knew what was happening. And that it would work. It had to work.

Without much thought, you kicked the ball to your right, watching as Chelsea gaped in alarm at the unsuspected pass and turn to and from Lauren.

You held your breath, stationery at the sight of Lauren’s risky attempts. She found a steady pace along the sideline stepping past Jess Carter, keeping her back turned to the goal. She used the back of her heel to trick both Carter and Berger. She had scored. Manchester City were winning 3-1.

You were the first to scream, a massive smile on your face as you ran towards Lauren, who spun to find you amidst the swarm of Chelsea players.

The two of you ran into each other with so much force that you both toppled to the ground, rolling around as the rest of your team piled on top of you.

The girls were screaming, you could hear the distant cheers of people in the stands. You heard Lauren’s exhausted huffs as you shovelled your head into her neck. Neither of you said anything. You both just had the silent agreement that what you did was game-changing, and that the non-existent relationship between you was no longer.

Despite the desperate attempts from the London team, the final whistle blew with the score maintaining a healthy lead. Your legs gave out as soon as the game ended, tears threatening to spill from your eyes and onto your cheeks as the weight of the season lifted from your shoulders. You felt a pair of arms lift you up, turning you around. The hug was only recently familiar, but tangible nonetheless.

Lauren held her arms around your waist, leaving you to collapse your arms over her shoulders. You watched her chest rise and fall, however, so slowly, a few choked sobs rang out from the older girl.

“I thought you weren't ‘gonna pass to me.” She said. You don't remember her ever speaking to you directly, but the attention made you blush.

“You could've gotten a double if I did.” You uttered, pulling her out of the hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She replied, her cheeks also dusted pink. “I'm just glad it was your assist.”

You wondered if she was trying to make you flustered because you noticed how fidgety she got when you eyed her nervously.

“I mean like— I like you— wait, no, well— I like your assist-”

“Same. I mean— I'm glad you scored from my assist. Like— okay wait that doesn't make sense.”

“I get what you’re saying. That's what I meant.” Lauren muttered back, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to assist me… in goals.”

“Yeah, same… in goals, yeah.”

Little did you know, your Aussie teammates Hayley and Alanna were standing next to Keira and Georgia, all overlooking the inept exchange between the two of you.

“God, you call that flirting.” Georgia laughed, the other three chuckling along. “Wouldn't want to see what their dates would look like.”

“Bloody painful, that's what.” Alanna sounded, taking a picture of the two of you.

“Wouldnt of expected anything different, to be honest. Both as awkward as each other.” Keira spoke.

And you were as awkward as each other, but that made for the perfect pair. A home away from home.

_____________________________

[kybercrystals94]

Merriest Days Ahead (Part 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 23 | Alternative Prompt 6: Immortality

Rated: G | Words: 3,343 | Summary: Pabu has a month long holiday honoring the cultures and traditions of its citizens…Omega wants to contribute.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This is within the same timeline as my other two stories “Scars & Toothpicks” & “Stay”. Probably takes place after both of these stories, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone!

OMEGA

Omega knows she has the best room in the entire house. While it is the smallest room, she prefers the term “cozy”. The ceiling is slanted so that she can only stand fully upright in half of it, but that just gives the room personality. The best part, the most amazing part, is the window. It is round with a bright pink, airy curtain that allows the sunlight to seep through. During the day, when she pushes it aside, she can see the ocean stretch to where it touches the sky in a nice, crisp line. When the sun sets, she can see it melt into the water, painting the sky and the sea with swatches of indescribable color. And when it is dark, the lights of the city sparkle like stars, winking up at her, reminding her that she and her brothers are not alone anymore. They have friends, people, community. The citizens of Pabu treat them like natborns. They aren’t clone soldiers here. They are the family that lives in the little house near the very top of the island.

And Omega loves it, and she knows her brothers do too…even if they don’t say it in words. She sees it in their actions, their smiles, their eyes. Clones were bred to survive, not live. But here they are, her brave brothers, living. She is so happy for them. For all of them.

Tonight, Omega fell asleep on the Marauder only an hour before they arrived back in Pabu after a supply run. She wakes a little when she feels the landing mechanisms activate, the pitched whine of the ship making a gentle descent on the landing pad. She scrunches her eyes shut, knowing that if she’s asleep, one of her brothers will carry her home.

Home. She loves that word.

“Omega?” Hunter’s voice, then his footsteps approach the seat Omega is curled in. Her brother chuckles, and Omega knows that Hunter knows she’s awake, but she keeps her eyes closed and tries to hide her smile in her arms.

“Just leave her,” Crosshair says. “If she wakes up with a crick in her neck, it's her own fault.”

Omega knows he doesn’t mean it.

“Tempting,” Hunter agrees softly, amusement evident.

“Then again,” Crosshair continues with a sigh, “hearing her whine about it tomorrow would make all of us suffer.”

Arms scoop her up and cradle her against the hard plastoid of a chestplate. The Batch doesn’t wear much of their armor anymore, but when they do, it’s under loose-fitting civvies to keep it hidden. Omega’s cheek rests against the coarse woolen material of Crosshair’s favorite sweater. Wrecker jokes that Crosshair likes the abrasive fabric because it matches his personality, but Omega knows it is because Crosshair likes the color: black with accents of red woven throughout.

Omega peeks up at her waspish brother’s face. He catches her. “If I find out you’re awake, you’re walking,” Crosshair murmurs. Omega snaps her eyes shut. “That’s what I thought.”

She must’ve fallen back asleep, because the next thing Omega is aware of is being deposited into her bed, Crosshair dropping her on the mattress with a soft thump. “Get ready for bed, you little womp rat.”

“I’m already asleep,” Omega whines, stretching out her arms. She accidentally knocks Lula off the bed.

Crosshair picks up the stuffed tooka and tosses it at Omega’s face. “Teeth brushed. Night clothes on,” he orders, pointing at her. “Then sleep.”

“Ugh!” Omega laments, but she rolls out of her bed with reluctant obedience.

Crosshair grins triumphantly around a toothpick before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Omega quickly changes into night clothes and then goes to the fresher to brush her teeth. She can hear her brothers talking in the common room, and the bitter scent of caff being brewed. Omega doesn’t know how they can stand the stuff. She tries it, but usually only with a healthy splash of cream and a heaping spoon of sugar. Even then, her brother’s laugh at the array of facial expressions she goes through as she sips at it with early meal.

Breakfast, Omega reminds herself, It’s called breakfast.

Once Omega has scrubbed her teeth clean, she bounds down the stairs with renewed energy. Her second wind, as Hunter calls it, disperses any tiredness she felt before.

“I thought you were already asleep,” Crosshair grumbles over his mug.

“I was until you made me change and brush my teeth,” Omega shoots back, climbing up on the couch between Hunter and Wrecker. There isn’t really enough room, but she makes herself fit, snugly squished between them. Wrecker laughs and moves his arm to the couch back to make more space.

“Forgive me for being responsible,” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes.

“Wanna taste of my caf?” Wrecker booms, “No cream or sugar, just like you like it.”

Omega scrunches her nose and sticks out her tongue. “Blech! Gross. I like Tech’s caff better.”

“Tech’s caff is ninety-five percent sugar,” Hunter says, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Now wait a minute,” Tech starts indignantly.

“That’s why little girls like it,” Crosshair chortles gleefully.

Omega soaks in the lighthearted teasing, the warm feeling of safety and stability she hadn’t ever realized was missing until it was gifted to them on Pabu. It had been stolen for a moment when she was kidnapped by Hemlock, when she thought Tech was dead, and Crosshair imprisoned…but now, they have it back. And she never wants to let it go again.

Hunter nudges her, and Omega opens her eyes. She can’t remember when she closed them. “Off to bed, little one,” he says gently.

She nods, and wiggles her way off the couch. “G’night,” she mutters sleepily, waving vaguely, to no one in particular. A chorus of answering goodnights follow her up the staircase. Omega creeps into her little room and climbs into bed. She pushes aside her curtain to look out at the winking village lights. She gasps.

Amongst the usual street lamps and lit windows are thousands of colorful pinpricks of light, strung along the streets and around posts and rooftops. They look like luminous manifestations of pure joy, dazzling sparkles of happiness glittering across the place she didn’t think she could possibly love more.

“Hunter!” she calls, the first name she thinks of.

Omega has her nose pressed against the window pane Hunter comes in. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks. Maybe Omega had sounded a little frantic when she called for him in her excitement.

“Look! It’s beautiful!” Omega pulls away from the window enough for Hunter to lean over the bed and look out for himself. “What are those lights? What do they mean?”

Hunter smiles. “I forgot you didn’t see the lights when we were coming down from the ship. Tech said they’re decorative lights for the holidays.”

“What kind of holidays?” Omega asks.

“I’m not sure…we can ask tomorrow.” Hunter pulls back Omega’s quilt and pats her pillow. Omega looks out the window one more time before laying down and letting Hunter tuck the quilt around her shoulders. He smooths back her hair. “Don’t let that busy mind of yours keep you up,” he warns with a smile. “We’ll solve the mystery in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Omega sighs.

Hunter clicks off her lamp, whispering one last goodnight over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Omega’s busy mind keeps her awake a few minutes more, noticing that the colorful lights cast a faint rainbow glow on the slanted ceiling. “Holidays,” Omega breathes dreamily, “I’ve never celebrated holidays before…” The lull of sleep claims her with wistful dreams.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“They’re called Merry Days,” Lyana tells Omega the next morning. “It’s a whole month to honor all the most important holidays from all the cultures represented on Pabu.”

Omega breathes. “A whole month? What do you do for a whole month?”

“All sorts of things! We decorate and eat special food and play games. There are shows and parades, and remembrances. And on the middle day of the month, families exchange gifts with one another. We call that day Merriest Day, because the gift of family is the merriest of all.”

“I’ve never gotten anyone a gift before,” Omega says quietly.

Lyana lights up. “I can help you get gifts for your brothers! We could make them gifts, or even earn some credits to buy gifts from the market.”

“You would really help me do that?” Omega asks, hope swelling in her heart.

“Of course! You’re my friend. That’s what friends do,” Lyana says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

Omega smiles. “When can we start?”

“Right now, obviously.” Lyana laughs. “C’mon!”

Omega chases her friend out the door and into the sunshine of their island home.

TECH

“There’s going to be a parade of lights tonight,” Omega chatters excitedly, accepting the stack of plates from Tech to set around the table. “And the whole island is going to be there.”

Tech hums thoughtfully at the information. “It would be interesting to study the local traditions,” he says, giving Omega a handful of utensils when she bounds back to his side. He turns to the cuts of meat he is cooking on the stovetop.

“We wouldn’t be going to study, Tech,” Omega sighs. “We’d be going because it’s our tradition too! We are citizens of Pabu now, so we should celebrate with them!”

Tech goes still, Omega’s words, so assured, registering in his mind. “Well, I suppose…”

“Lyana asked what traditions clones have to add to Merry Days, and I told her I wasn’t sure, but that I’d ask you, since you know practically everything,” Omega continues fondly, going to the cupboard to collect cups.

“Traditions clones have,” Tech echoes, unsure he understands.

“Yeah,” Omega says, “You know…like other cultures have traditions and holidays. Lyana said they’re always adding new traditions to the month to incorporate all the cultures represented.”

“I’m not sure you would call our history a culture,” Tech counters gently. “Our…kind has only been in existence for an extraordinary short time. And as for traditions worthy of being called a holiday, I’m not sure that there are any by natborn standards.”

He turns to look at his sister in time to see her joyous expression crumble. She isn’t looking at him, but at the cup in her hand, half extended to its place at the table. “Oh,” she whispers. “That makes sense.” She sets the cup down with a soft clunk.

Tech’s voice catches in his throat as he searches for something remotely comforting to say, but his typically brilliant mind comes up short.

Omega looks up at him with a small, brave smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s okay. We can start new traditions. Our own traditions.” She nods, more to herself than to Tech. “I’ll go tell the others it’s almost time for late meal…I mean, dinner.” She rushes from the room, but there is no longer any bounce in her steps.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega’s mood improves considerably during late meal. Wrecker hounds her for information about the parade, as if she has any personal experience with it, and she gives him every minute detail she gleaned from Lyana. Even Hunter and Crosshair have a part to play in her lifted spirits, bickering lightly about where the best place to view the parade might be. Omega ultimately sides with Crosshair, to the sniper’s delight, the emotion only displayed in a triumphant smirk at Hunter and a gentle tug on a lock of Omega’s hair.

Once the meal is completed, Hunter sends Omega to make preparations for the evening activity while he offers to assist Tech cleaning up.

“It is not your turn,” Tech argues, unwilling to admit that he had hoped to take advantage of the opportunity to think uninterrupted.

Hunter shrugs, stacking plates and utensils. “I don’t mind.”

Tech minds, but he only nods and mutters a word of thanks.

“You’ve been quiet this evening,” Hunter says after a few minutes of silence between them, the only sound being the clatter of dishes and disturbance of water.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tech admits, handing Hunter a scrubbed dish to dry.

Hunter chuckles. “You usually think out loud.” This earns Hunter an eyeroll, which makes the former sergeant laugh outright and knock his shoulder into Tech’s. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Omega asked me about our culture, what we might contribute to the festivities of Pabu,” Tech says, taking another dirty plate to scrub at.

“Echo’s talked about some traditions the regs had,” Hunter says, the lightness of his tone vanished. “Maybe he’d have some ideas.”

“But we never participated in them,” Tech says, “and aside from that, it is troubling that Omega doesn’t have a history beyond the laboratories of Kamino. No clone does.”

“All histories and cultures have to start somewhere,” Hunter says.

This makes Tech pause. “This is true.”

“I suppose we have an opportunity to make our own culture, our own legacy,” Hunter continues. “Something for Omega to carry with her.”

After we’re gone remains unsaid.

“Omega said something similar,” Tech admits.

Hunter takes the stack of dried plates to put in the cupboard. “We can still ask Echo for ideas. I’m sure he would love to have input.”

“And Rex as well,” Tech adds, feeling lighter now that he has shared the burden. “I will contact them tonight. Hopefully we will have something to offer Omega as suggestions in the morning.”

Hunter shakes his head and smiles. “Tech, we don’t have our entire legacy figured out in one night.”

“But that would be ideal.”

CROSSHAIR

As soldiers, they have seen many celebrations on many worlds, but always in the capacity of disinterested observers. Watching for threats and protecting citizens made the distraction of festivities bothersome rather than engaging.

Now, Crosshair sees it all from a new perspective.

Omega is perched on Wrecker’s shoulders, high above the crowd. Crosshair doesn’t like the press of the horde on the streets, almost wishing he could find his own perch to observe the chaotic festivities from; however, his desire for open space does not win out over his yearning to be close to his little sister and brothers. So, instead, he situates himself between Wrecker’s bulk and Hunter’s solid presence. It also puts him within Omega’s reach, resulting in her tapping him on the head to draw his attention to anything and everything that catches her attention.

He pretends to be bothered, but Omega only giggles, seeing through his act as if it were a wide open window.

“Look, Crosshair!” she cries, a pat of little fingers in his hair. “Isn’t it cute!”

“We’re watching the same parade,” he tells her. “I see everything you see.”

“But are you looking at the little moonyo in the tree?”

“I saw it before you did.”

Omega huffs. “You did not.”

Crosshair smirks.

When the parade finally ends, Omega slides down from Wrecker’s shoulders and latches herself to Crosshair’s hand for the walk back home, even after he tells her she’ll have to keep up with his pace if she wants to stay there.

“That’s why I’m walking with you,” Omega tells him. “Hunter and Tech walk too slow.”

“That’s because it isn’t a race,” Tech says.

“You only say that because you wouldn’t win,” Crosshair replies.

“Yeah!” Wrecker declares. “I could beat all of you!”

Omega drops Crosshair’s hand. “Last one home has to do dishes for a week!” She takes off, followed quickly by a whooping Wrecker.

Crosshair exchanges a look with Tech and Hunter before he says, “Well, I’m not doing dishes for a week.”

“You don’t seriously mean…” Tech starts, but Crosshair is already gone, civilian boots pounding into the cobblestone streets.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I don’t think it’s fair that Hunter chose to participate in the race only after we had nearly reached the house,” Tech is still grousing when Crosshair returns to the common area from tucking Omega in for the night.

“You’re just upset you didn’t think of it first,” Hunter says smugly, taking a slow drink of his caf.

Tech continues to grumble from behind his data pad.

Crosshair goes to pour himself a cup of caf, adding just a touch of cream and sweetener. He would be loath to admit he used either, trying to keep the beverage deceptively dark. When he returns to the common room, he finds that the conversation has shifted from their evening race.

“Echo has already responded to my message,” Tech is saying to Hunter.

Wrecker poses the question before Crosshair can. “What message?”

“About clone traditions,” Tech says absently, still reading over the message in question.

“Clone traditions,” Crosshair mutters. “You mean, reg traditions.”

“It isn’t like we have any ourselves,” Tech says.

“Sure we do!” Wrecker cries. “We have traditions.”

“Such as?” Tech asks skeptically.

“Well, after a successful mission, Omega and I would get Mantell Mix,” Wrecker begins happily, but then he freezes, glancing at Crosshair.

In fact, Crosshair can feel three sets of eyes on him. He decidedly does not meet their gaze, focusing on the caf in his cup. This post mission Mantel Mix tradition was one established during his separation from the squad, when they ran jobs for the trandoshan that would later betray them to the Empire. They must’ve called them missions, their little mercenary gigs. While he knows their lives didn’t stop while he was gone, it doesn’t make the ache any less sharp.

Crosshair takes a drink of his caf, even though it is still too hot. “Well,” he says, “sounds like you’ve got a tradition right there.”

“Omega did mention that food does play a role in the month’s festivities,” Tech acknowledges, taking Crosshair’s words as permission to step away from the awkwardness of the conversation. “Perhaps we could borrow the concept of Mantell Mix and make our own rendition.”

Hunter makes a face. “Mantell Mix wasn’t even good.”

“Take that back!” cries Wrecker.

“Hunter has a point,” Tech says, ignoring Wrecker’s indignant gasp, “It was…subpar at best.”

“And that’s coming from the man who drinks caf with his milk and sugar,” Crosshair puts in helpfully, earning a guffaw from Wrecker.

Hunter interjects, bringing the derailed conversation back on course. “What did Echo have to say?”

“He mentioned name days, the day a clone received or chose their name. They would celebrate the day annually. Its natborn equivalent would probably be a birthday.”

“How are we supposed to remember when we chose our names?” Crosshair asks, rolling his eyes.

“I actually kept a record,” Tech admits. “I thought it was important.”

“Of course you did.”

Tech sighs. “I am adding it to the list of traditions we show to Omega in the morning. That gives us a grand total of two traditions we might contribute to Merry Days.”

“A nasty snack and the day a clone decides they don’t want to go by a CT number anymore?” Crosshair grumbles. “Do you think they’d give us a parade for those?”

Hunter frowns at him. “We are open to suggestions, Cross.”

Crosshair argues, “Why do we need to contribute any traditions? Can’t our tradition be that we adopt whatever traditions we want? Seems the month is full of them without us adding our petty creations.”

“Omega would be disappointed,” Tech says after a moment.

Crosshair sighs. “The truth is disappointing sometimes. And the truth here is, we’re clones. We were experiments and soldiers most of our lives…which wasn’t living. It was surviving.”

“But we still have our memories and experiences that have made us individuals, no matter what the Kaminoans hoped to achieve. We are more than just survivors,” Tech says.

“We have our history that made us,” Hunter says, softly, into his mug, “and now we have our history ahead of us. To do more than just survive.”

Tech chuckles. “I guess you were right afterall, Hunter. A legacy cannot be built in a night.”

“But it can be built in our lifetimes,” Hunter says.

TBC

I had to break this story into at least 2 parts…but the next part will come!!

This story was originally for the holidays, but I got in a car accident on Christmas Eve, so that put a damper on the plan 😅

But I finally get to post this bittersweet fluff!

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!✨

Taglist: @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @followthepurrgil @arctrooper69 @mooncommlink @nagyanna424 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @the-little-moment @merkitty49

[somestorythoughts]

Radioactive Eldritch Jedi

Okay so when I say radioactive. The Force is primordial and eldritch and the jedi (and any other force users of a comparable level) resonate with the echoes of this primoridal of-the-world-and-yet-not-the-world energy like your body when you’re so close to a marching bacd you can feel the drums in your bones and they’re not the music or the instruments, they’re only the echo thereof, but the echo of something from the depths that bore the universe is still A Lot.

And when you look at them. There’s teeth that aren’t there the next minute, you could count them again and again for half an hour and never get the same number twice in a row. And that’s not mentioning when their teeth don’t fit in their mouth, don’t match each other, when there aren’t teeth in their mouths but claws...

That’s just one element of their face which is one element of their body.

You can smell them, even the species that don’t have particularly good senses of smell though it is far more distracting for them. Something fresh with light or rotting with dark, herby or sea salty or citrusy or floral and threaded with sweat or blood or sex to suit whatever they’ve been doing and it wouldn’t be remarkable except they smell simultaneously like their species and like something else entirely in a way that is clearly but indescribably not caused by soap or perfume or oil.

There’s a resonance in their voices. Something like there’s a drumbeat in their throat, like they’re speaking with the vibrations of a song you’ve always heard without knowing it, but always perfectly understandable. The sound of jedi singing in harmony with feeling has reduced cities to tears of joy or tears of pain, blood dripping from their ears in mirror of their tears.

Don’t get me started on their shadows, on the way they move in the dark

And they’d be leaking this strangeness 24/7 except they keep themselves so tightly shielded, not only hiding themselves so that they appear uncanny and not terrifyingly Other (they’ve been there time and time again and it is a problem. There are Consequences) but also keeping any of this force-energy-resonance leaking out into the world. Places where force sensitives have lived a long time thrum like a pulse, are touches with the energy of generations of force users relaxing enough to let their shields lower and their selves to leak and brush the walls and tables, etching their presences into the place like fire into wood, and when this touches people it changes them.

Not immediately. Not quickly. It can take months for anything to change and this is why jedi keep their shields maintained, because if you’re fully shielded nothing will happen, and this is part of why attachments are risky, because the emotion can affect the shields can change the one you love, because to say you love a jedi is not the same as accepting all that they are and being willing to change along with them because you can’t dodge that forever, and saying you’re willing to do this isn’t the same as being willing.

The changes aren’t quick, and not as Eldritch as the jedi, but they are permanent and definitely Other.

When shields crack or break, when a jedi lashes out with the force, it brushes an imprint on everything around them (those with any kind of vision skills can find this difficult or comforting to deal with, like a too-large gulp of hot tea) and a few times on the same thing doesn’t matter. Genuinely. Repeition is an entirely different matter.

War is hell. 

War is hell, and the jedi are holding on to each other for support, clinging interlocking arms, but they’re scattered around the galaxy and it’s so hard to actually reach each other.

Sometimes to know you’re supported isn’t enough. Not when you can’t reach their shoulder to lean on, for just a moment.

And the clones are going through hell with them, are dying around them, and they reach out to support the jedi who are doing their best not only to help them survive but to help them live in a war that wants them dead for a senate that doesn’t care and the jedi recognizes them as people so they reach out and the jedi can’t help but reach back.

The clones catch them when they fall, love them in different ways each as sure as the tides, and the jedi relax into it without realizing. Their shields crack over and over again because war is hell, but they also find them relaxing them, instinctively and unconsciously, because so little is certain but the clones’ willingness to go to hell and back for them is one of them and they feel safe.

And the echoes of the force that resonate in the heartbeats-nervepulses-bloodflows of the jedi leaves imprints on the clones that rises like paint added layer by layer and it changes them.

The clones don’t have a childhood of familiarity to fall back on, much less the shielding techniques to keep them looking “normal.” What they have is legions of brothers willing to support each other come hell or high water or unending clankers and jedi who at first beg their forgiveness for changing them (because it wasn’t supposed to happen and because they like how they are but everyone already sees them as strange and to beg forgiveness for making them like them is many jedi’s first instinct) then teach them how to hide it when they need to and the comfort of singing together, their voices ringing through their ships in tune with the thrumming in their blood, bone-deep.

[chiclet-go-boom]

What’s the most depressing movie you’ve ever watched? -- probably Snowpiercer, because I was not expecting it to be "like that". I don't know what I was thinking going in, but my god, I wasn't prepared.

What’s the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? -- if we're going with "disturbing as in gut-wrenching", I'd say Grave Of The Fireflies. If we're going with "disturbing as in I need a paper bag and a moment off the back porch", probably The Human Centipede.

An actor/actress you’ve seen in more than 8 movies? Name the movies. -- Nik Cage! Love me some Nik Cage movies. - Fast Times at Ridgemont High - Valley Girl - Moonstruck - Wild at Heart - City of Angels - Gone in 60 Seconds - National Treasure - Ghost Rider

A film you could watch on repeat for the rest of your life? -- The Matrix.

What’s the very first film you remember watching? -- Star Wars!

A film you wish you hadn’t watched? -- The Human Centipede. urgh.

A film you wish had a sequel? -- none of them, most sequels suck to the max.

Which book would you like to see adapted into a film? -- any book that i love would be hurtful as a movie as they kind of never get it right. maybe Kushiel's Dart, but they'd fuck it over so bad (but I'd love to see Joscelin on the screen, particularly the terminus scene).

The most aesthetically pleasing movie you’ve ever watched? -- Hero, with Jet Li. That was on a transcendent level of visuals, the use of color was indescribable.

What’s your favourite movie director? -- don't have one, I don't pay attention to the director usually although I'll recognize the big names and have a vague impression of them.

Your favourite movie genre? -- local boy does great in space / alien robots come to earth which is like the same genre but turned on its head. I'm thinking like The Last Starfighter / Star Wars / The Martian and Batteries Not Included / Short Circuit / District 9

A movie that holds a special place in your heart? -- Finding Nemo. I spent a lot of time on the couch cuddling a little boy while we watched over and over and over again, until we got to the part where we could clutch our exit buddies and fall off the couch with our best impression of centrifugal forces flinging us around.

Your favourite comedy film? -- can I say "Everything Everywhere All At Once"? it was a lot of things, some of them very hard to articulate but my god, was it funny.

A music video you would love to see developed into a film? -- that one fucked up demon video by Jackson Wang.. found it, its called "Cruel". I'll link it below, i want two hours more of that story and setpiece.

A film everyone loves but you hate? -- N/A

A film you love but everyone else hates? -- N/A

Which cinematic universe would you like to live in? -- never thought about it so i guess none? maybe living in Narnia would be okay. i'd probably end up oppressed though.

What’s your favourite biopic? -- N/A.

Mainstream movies or indie movies? -- huh. i like them both for usually different reasons. probably indie movies have the edge; the production might be lacking but the heart is usually there in spades and that's what counts.

Old movies or contemporary movies? -- contemporary movies, with an clause that exempts old musicals and anything with fred astaire/ginger rogers.

A film with an amazing soundtrack? -- Dune. That was some wild assed weird music and I was so there for it.

FILM ASK GAME

What’s the most depressing movie you’ve ever watched?

What’s the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched?

An actor/actress you’ve seen in more than 8 movies? Name the movies.

A film you could watch on repeat for the rest of your life?

What’s the very first film you remember watching?

A film you wish you hadn’t watched?

A film you wish had a sequel?

Which book would you like to see adapted into a film?

The most aesthetically pleasing movie you’ve ever watched?

What’s your favourite movie director?

Your favourite movie genre?

A movie that holds a special place in your heart?

Your favourite comedy film?

A music video you would love to see developed into a film?

A film everyone loves but you hate?

A film you love but everyone else hates?

Which cinematic universe would you like to live in?

What’s your favourite biopic?

Mainstream movies or indie movies?

Old movies or contemporary movies?

A film with an amazing soundtrack?

[heirofgriefalwayspresent]

In the distance, a small carriage with two small beasts carrying several heavy bags made it's way to him, passing him by for a few moments before coming to a stop. An old man with a woolen cap turned to look in his direction, smiling a crooked smile with a few missing teeth.

"You're Herkel's oldest, aren't you? Good day; you going to Whothe?" Heeding the old man's greeting, he got closer to get a better look at who he was talking to, recognizing him as the midday sun shone upon the elder's features.

Nodding his head, Ariel spoke frankly. "Yes, Sir Fröd. My father went into town to buy some rosy water, so I need to drag him back into house for lunch.", he said while looking towards the bags that the two creatures in the front carried.

Old Fröd's family was well regarded in the community, for they had recently began to move the goods the Whemworth produced into Whothe, where the person in charge of the town, an eccentric man that walked the streets of the chaotic city daily.

Venturing with a smile towards a place they were not welcome in, Old Fröd had a special place in the serfs's hearts. Knowing this, Ariel spent little time impeding his task, walking briskly before being interrupted by the elder's cough.

"Boy, there's still a long way to Whothe. Hop on, and I'll carry towards the town, at least. Your mom's cooking'll get cold...and for goodness' sake, it's rosewater, don't forget; my lady has already beaten it over my head for long enough.", Fröd laughed and stopped his two companions.

These beasts looked similar to horses; however, in this world, such creatures were wilder, not longer bred in a controlled enviroment but instead living in an unforgiving enviroment where not adapting meant death, which was begining to show in their appearance. These creatures, which the people of Skrall dubbed "Horsons", a crude wordplay, were sluggish, aloof, sturdy entities that were beloved by those that could afford the commodity that was owning a wild animal in their household.

"Rosewater, rosewater...I'll try, but I have a hard time remembering stuff I don't find all that interesting.", Ariel smiled wryly as Fröd whipped the reins, the horsons starting to move once again.

"Sir Fröd, what are you..." The young man was cut off from speaking.

"Don't call me sir.", the old man beckoned, for he believed himself to be unworthy of such titles.

"Ah...Fröd, then. Why are you going into town for, Fröd? I thought that we weren't moving anything until after the harvest festival."

"Little Dalilah told me to give these as a sign of goodwill to Sir Talmor. Not that I mind, frankly; this trail...it puts my mind at ease. It's the town I can't stand."

"The town? What's wrong with it?", Ariel asked while looking towards Fröd, who held an indescribable expression whilst he retorted, a mischevious smile placed on his lips shortly after.

"You boys are too young to know, both you and that white-haired scoundrel; the harvest festival always brings a lot of noise. A light sleeper like me can't even get a peep in."

"Then if you happen to find some trinket or item in here, Fröd, would you please hold on to it for me? Something like this!", the boy shouted gleefully as he held a small book in his hands; it carried with it the look of an antique treasure, one that had been unearthed long after the flow of time eroded it.

"Fine, fine. Just save a bit of food for me to enjoy the following morning, yes? I want to eat those meat sandwiches that Little Toti prepares; I don't even know what she puts in them, but they're so tasty I tell my idiot son to swing by every couple of days to see if they still have some left over each time I see her husband bring hunted game home."

It was now Ariel's turn to wear a clouded expression, watching a crudely placed signpost pass him by, for Toti was the mother of both Bogdo and Foldi. Ramon's mother, Yamila, was good friends with her and so they probably heard by now that he got into an argument with them. That made getting his bauble back hard; he did not want to listen to any more preaching than he would probably have to endure when he got home.

"Sure thing, Fröd." Whilst they talked, the horsons pulled the carriage out of the green forest, the chaotic city of Whothe in sight. Whereas the Whemworth "estate" was a crude bundle of clay buildings surrounding a big structure made of strange materials with little more than a wooden fence to keep the wild animals at bay, Whothe remained the same mesh of styles, materials and people that made this place their home. He got down from the carriage, nodding at the old man while making his way towards the Street of Commerce, where all the vendors in the city did their business.

[wwinterwitch]

Omg I love your stories and I have something interesting in mind if you're up for it. I've been thinking lately about just how deadly and ruthless Yelena can be?! Maybe even more than Natasha, especially in her first scene in black widow (when she kills the widow that frees her), like, wow that was brutal XD. But anyway, that gave me an idea for a story. One where maybe Yelena met the reader in New York and they've been friends for a while now, and Yelena is in love with her, but it's still pretty shy about it so she hasn't said anything. And so the reader, maybe she has a vague knowledge about Yelena's past, but just from what Yelena told her, and so one day they are together and some people attack them (u decide who) and Yelena takes them out in her ruthless fashion, only after noticing the reader looking at her a little terrorized, because she never saw Yelena fight. And in the heat of the moment the reader runs away from Yelena and avoids her for a day or two just to process the reality of it all. But Yelena gets totally broken by it, thinking she just messed up the only good thing she had, but she was just trying to protect them. Only for the reader to come back to her, find Yelena crying in her room or something (love the feels) and comfort her, say she loves her still and Yelena spills her real feelings for her. Sorry that got long, but I would just love to read something like that. ❤️

yelena + angst absolutely kills me!! thank you so much for your request

UNCONDITIONAL - YELENA BELOVA

summary: you see a whole new side of yelena that you've never seen before

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: unshared feelings, movie-typical violence, widow yelena on action, death, fluff at the end

a reablog is always appreciated!

my masterlist

Adjusting to a completely new life in New York wouldn't have been easy if it wasn't for you. Yelena is incredibly lucky to have you, as you were her personal tour guide when she first moved to the city. Even to this day, after a few months living here, she still need your help to get by on a city as crowded and complicated as New York.

But she was, quite to her surprise, finally feeling at peace. After living a lie, losing her sister and best friend, learning to be an actual human being again...it was hard for her to imagine a world where she could be genuinely happy. Luckily she found what she never thought she deserved. 

And she wouldn't admit it, but a lot of that new-found peace only existed because of you.

She never would've imagined to find someone like you. Ever. You taught her how to be herself and trust someone with her many demons from the past. In a way, you taught her to love herself again despite everything she has done. 

What began as a friendship soon turned into something else, as Yelena couldn't ignore just how much you have changed her life and how badly she wishes to have you by her side forever. It was an indescribable feeling she never experienced before in her life, but it has to be the most wonderful feeling in the world. With you life makes more sense.

You not only taught her to love herself, but also how it feels to fall in love with someone.

But for the moment, she decided not to say a thing. After all, it's an entirely new feeling and even though she's happy, she's also very scared. Yelena has never liked anyone before or been in a relationship, so obviously she had no idea what to do. Until she figured it out, it was best not to confess anything to you just yet.

Unfortunately for Yelena, her whole new world was turned upside down one night after having dinner with you. You have stopped by her apartment to grab a cup of coffee before heading back to your place. Of course, you would've never expected a little decision like that would get you in big trouble.

While she went to her bedroom to get changed, you walked into the kitchen with the intention of making some coffee, but never got to it as you felt something being held against your temple, making you freeze on your spot. As you turned just enough, you saw a man looking at you, raising his finger up to his mouth to warn you that you need to keep quiet. 

Him and other person dragged you out of the kitchen, still holding the gun at your temple. The guy held the gun even closer to your head, making you tilt your head a little as you let out a sob. He tilt his own head to the corridor where Yelena's room was, hinting what you needed to do now. "Yelena?" was all you could say, failing to hold back a whimper, your whole entire body shaking in fear.

Your friend walked out of her room as soon as she heard you, the tone of your voice immediately alerting her. That's when she realized someone had broke into her apartment and was holding a gun at you, ready to pull the trigger if Yelena attempted to do anything they didn't like.

"You're a very hard one to find," the other guy that wasn't threatening you with the gun muttered, a grin plastered across his face. "Lucky for us you made a new friend and let your guard down."

"Whatever this is about, she has nothing to do with it," was the first thing Yelena said. "Let her go."

"We will, but you have to come with us. Valentina needs your services."

"I told her I don't do that anymore," she replied. "I'm done."

"You're done when she allows it."

"No," Yelena insisted firmly, getting angrier by the second. "I decide for myself."

The guy laughed ironically. "Look at you, thinking you can just walk out of a deal whenever you want to! What, you have better things to do now? Pretending you can have a normal life here as if you're not one of the deadliest assassin to ever exist?"

Yelena's jaw clenched at the mockery, locking eyes with you. Her beautiful eyes were much darker than usual, her features showing so much anger that it almost looked like an entirely different person, not your bubbly and smiley Yelena that you care for so deeply. 

You were barely able to catch a glimpse of a warning before Yelena lunched forward towards the intruders. As you were being thrown to one side of the room, you took cover on a corner and curled into a ball, hoping you made it out of there alive. Never once crossed your mind to open your eyes, hearing the grunts, punches, stuff being thrown and breaking and gun shots of the intense fighting going on next to you. Each sharp noise made you jump in surprise, failing to control your shaking body and the tears streaming down your face.

Only when the fight seemed to be over, you dared to look up.

Yelena was adjusting her jacket and cleaning her bloody lip, breathing heavily as she looked down at the two people (most definitely dead) lying on the floor. She seems to remember you were there, turning to frantically look for you until she spotted you on the floor.

"Are you okay?" she immediately asks, worry evident on her features as she bent down next to you. It looks as if she wanted to reach out to touch you, but didn't know if you would want that due to how scared and shocked you looked. 

All you were able to do was nod. Despite Yelena being right in front of you, all you could focus on was the two bodies laying on the living room, a pile of blood surrounding them both. The scene was so gruesome, but you couldn't look away.

"I'm sorry," you heard, barely above a whisper. "This is all my fault, I...I should've expected she would try to find me."

Still, no response.

"You weren't supposed to be involved in any this," she continued. "Here, let's-"

She tried to hold your hands to help you stand up, but didn't finish her sentence when she noticed you flinched away from her, standing up by yourself. You could see Yelena was heartbroken by your reaction to her trying to touch you, standing up as well. 

With your back firmly pressed against the wall, you once again looked at the two bodies before your eyes focused on her. "I- I should go."

Yelena was quiet, feeling her eyes starting to burn just slightly as tears threaten to come out of them. "I'm really sorry, I-".

"I need to go," you interrupted, this time sounding much more decisive.

She didn't try to say or do anything, watching as you rushed to the front door to get out as soon as you could. The moment the door was closed, Yelena completely broke down as tears began rolling down her face. She practically collapsed to the floor, resting her back on the wall where you once were.

The fact that you had been there where she is right now, crying and shaking in fear as you heard her kill those two men crushed her. You weren't supposed to ever see this side of her. You weren't supposed to know the kind of monster she was before you came into her life.

And so she cried for hours, thinking to herself she has lost the one thing that gave her life a meaning.

--

A few days passed after the incident at Yelena's apartment. You have taken some time away from her to process what you witnessed before being able to talk things through with her. 

The time away from her also made you realize how incredibly miserable life is without Yelena around. You have missed her so much, you never thought you could ever feel a longing like this. You needed to see her again and talk it over.

You still were hesitant as you stood in front of the entrance of her apartment building. Things didn't end up exactly good, and you didn't know exactly how to start the conversation. She probably thinks you hate her or something like that. Truth is, you don't. As extreme as it sounds, you doubt you could ever hate her. No matter what she does.

You pressed the buzzer many times, but she never picked up. Thinking she wasn't home, you decided to give her a call instead. To your surprise, she immediately picked up.

"Uh, I'm outside your apartment," you said. "I was hoping we could talk?"

"Yes, sure," she says. "I'm...sorry, I thought you were someone else."

You noticed the front door unlocking, which meant she was indeed at home. "Thanks," you muttered before hanging up.

Yelena was waiting for you at the front door of her apartment. She looked miserable. Her hair was up in a messy bun? ponytail? you couldn't really tell because it was that messy. Just by looking at her you could tell she has been crying, her eyes swollen with bags underneath, hinting she hasn't been sleeping well either.

She looked hopeful, yet scared. She didn't know if you were here to fix your friendship or end it forever. The sight of her made you instantly regret not staying that night to comfort her.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you'd want to see me ever again," she confessed. "Uh, would you like to come in? It's still a little messy..."

"It's okay," you reassured her, entering the apartment. She wasn't lying when she said it was a mess. Broken stuff were still on the floor and the furniture was moved around a little. Only thing gone were the bodies and the blood.

"No, it's not," Yelena replied, not being able to look at you in the eye because she was too embarrassed to do that. "I should've known better. You didn't deserve to live through that."

"It's in the past now. I just needed a few days to wrap my heard around it, that's all. I'm fine now."

Yelena didn't seem to care about your words at all, shaking her head as she started to cry for like the millionth time already. "You see, this is what it's like to be me. I always mess things up. But that's okay, I guess. I don't really think I deserve to have a good life," she rambled. "You are the greatest thing that has ever happen to me and I still found a way to ruin it."

"You didn't," you insisted, walking closer to her so she would stop with her rambling and pacing around with no apparent direction, forcing her to stand still in front of you. "I'm here, aren't I? You didn't ruin everything."

Just then, Yelena looked up at you. She was still crying, so you wasted no time to clean her tears with your fingers, which made her close her eyes as she enjoyed your touch, thinking this was going to be the very last time she would get to feel you. 

She only opened her eyes to say, "I'm in love with you."

You were unable to say something back because it genuinely took you by surprise. She probably thought your silence and expression were signs of rejection because all she did was smile. But it wasn't any smile, it was the type of smile someone puts when they give up. It was almost as if she was thinking "I don't care you're about to reject me, because I just don't care about anything right now".

"I know I don't deserve you, and I know you don't feel the same. I just figured if this is the last time we talk, I needed you to know how much you mean to me. You have changed my life forever, and I just had to tell you before it was too late."

Yelena didn't look like she was expecting you to say something, so you didn't. Instead, your hands moved up to her face again, this time to cup her face to gently lean her closer to you, your lips meeting hers halfway. As soon as your lips connected, Yelena melted into your touch as she started kissing you eagerly, yet softly. Your whole body was on fire, unable to process how something as simple as a kiss could transmit so much. 

As Yelena kissed you and her hands held your waist, you felt more loved and cherished than ever.

"I love you too," you muttered after pulling away. "All of you. The good and bad."

This time, Yelena's smile was genuine. Not a drop of defeat visible in her features. She was glowing. Even with her eyes still swollen from all the crying and the small wound on the left side of her lower lip, she looked as beautiful as ever. And you couldn't believe you were so lucky to be loved by her.

[lady-literature]

Death

Ive been wanting to rewrite this thing for a while now so here you guys go! credit to @bunathebunny for the original idea | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

Marinette dies during the final battle with Hawkmoth.

Paris watches her fall, watches her take Hawkmoth with her, watches a child make a sacrifice she never should have had to make. Paris mourns and lays her to rest and sings her praises like she was the hero instead of the tragedy itself.

Her parents are too heartbroken to stay in the city their daughter loved (too furious to stay in the city that killed her) and so they run to Gotham.

Six months pass, and when Marinette wakes up in her grave, clawing her way out of the dirt and wood until she is bloody and staggering, there is no one waiting for her at home.

***

Marinette comes back wrong.

Not that, I think, there’s a way to come back right.

Dying changes you. And dying with the power of Creation thrumming through your veins? With the ancestral magic of a thousand Guardians crackling against your skin? With the history of a lost people stuffed inside your head and naked desperation clawing at your heart and the cries of your best friend echoing in your ears as you fall and-

Marinette comes back wrong.

***

Most of Paris knows she’s there, hidden in the shadows and watching.

It’s hard not to when criminals start turning up beaten and broken, screaming about little girls covered in blood and bruises and spots. When plenty of people have seen her flying across the rooftops or lurking in alleyways that are dark even as the sun shines bright.

They do not call her Ladybug anymore, for she is no longer their hero.

Marinette doesn’t mind. She is an afterimage, a ghost story, a thing that was once a girl but is now wrong wrong wrong.

Now they call her the Girl in Red.

They say she is benevolent. They say she is vicious.

I suppose it depends on who you ask.

(I suppose it depends on what they were doing when they met her.)

***

She has wandered the streets of Paris for many years when she comes across a man who is like her.

She meets him quite by accident, wandering through the shadows of her alleyways. They lock eyes—acid green clashing against inhuman blue, both glowing too bright in the shadows to be natural—and the pair of them freeze.

Well, Marinette freezes as much as she ever does, which isn’t much. The edges of her waver and mold to the shadows she’s in and the longer she stands there, the more she flickers.

Bloody then not then back again. Like she doesn’t quite know who to be.

Marinette looks up at him, and in her battered and broken mind, she cannot decide what he is.

He is a man who smells like death but is not dead. A man who is lost, wandering the world without a home just as she is. A man who is trouble, the same kind she bares her too sharp teeth at and hunts where it’s too dark for others to see.

(But isn’t she herself trouble? Hasn’t she heard the whispers and rumors people spin of her? Hasn’t she, herself, left the bodies of people too broken to ever fix lying in alleyways without a second thought?)

(People are much more fragile than she remembers.)

***

Jason looks down at her, this impossible child who is pale and terrifying and so indescribably other, and something in him cracks.

She is familiar, but not in the sense that they’ve ever met before.

No- she is familiar because under all the blood and bruises and demonic bullshit, he can still see the little girl hidden behind it. He can still recognize the look of a child dragged into a war that was not theirs because, once upon a time, that kid was him.

(Jason looks down at her and, in her place, he sees a little boy in red and green and gold.)

It’s been a long time since Jason was a hero—a lifetime ago, really—but he can’t ignore a kid in need. Even if she is creepy and kinda see-through and not quite human.

Which is good, he supposes, considering that after their first meeting, the little runt never leaves his side.

***

Jason leaves Paris two weeks later and when he goes, Marinette goes with him.

Paris is her city, is the only city she’s ever known… but it’s also the city that got her killed. She remembers little about Before, but she hadn’t needed to. The whispers people make behind their hands tell her more than enough.

Marinette has stayed in Paris for long enough, she thinks, bound by a duty she no longer needs to uphold.

Big Brother tells her of a different city, one plagued by madmen that lives in endless night. So many dark streets and people in need of saving, so much trouble teeming beneath the surface, just waiting for her to snap and snarl at it.

(Big Brother also tells her of the Bat that watches over the city. He speaks his name with scorn and an aching sort of longing that makes Marinette think of lost children and homes where no one is waiting for you.)

Jason grinds the whole of Gotham’s underground beneath his heel and Marinette stands at his side, a vicious shadow that people only ever get the chance to underestimate once.

Together, they are the Red Siblings, and together, they are Gotham’s worst nightmare.

[drxwsyni]

doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat��it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”  

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

[tippedbykreider]

talk some sense to me | j. oleksiak

Word count: 26.2k Warnings: mutual pining, arguing, sex Author’s note: Childhood best friends to lovers so frustrating you’ll want to slap them both. This fic is mostly unchanged apart from a few additional bits here and there (maybe added another 1k total). Fic title is from ‘I Found’ by Amber Run Summary: True friends are hard to find and harder to keep but when a friendship like the one Jamie and Leo share withstands the test of time, it’s clear that there’s something else there. Can two people who know each other better than anyone else be honest with themselves and face down what has always been there between them?

A moment.

That’s all it takes.

One moment that sits like a void and one moment that can change everything, whichever way it goes. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waits for her to speak for what feels like forever while she stands on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth will rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago.

Yes, it’s a moment that’s terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it’s theirs.

*

Leonora Harris had lived in Toronto, Ontario for her entire life and couldn’t ever imagine herself being anywhere else. This was something that had her parents scratching their heads on more than one occasion. You see, Bill and Diana had always believed that their daughter would spread her wings and blaze her own path in the world and while they were correct in that assumption, they’d assumed that she’d be doing it somewhere a bit more exotic. There were a lot of things that kept Leonora in the city, one of those things was a huge sense of belonging and a feeling of home that she wasn’t sure she would find anywhere else, another was landing the job of her dreams at the Royal Ontario Museum after finishing university. But perhaps the biggest reason and the reason that she would never allow herself to admit, was because Toronto was the place her best friend also called home, even if it was only for three months out of the year.

True friends are hard to come by and even harder to keep, that’s why people never had an abundance of ‘old friends’, so when a friendship like the one Leonora shared with Jamie Oleksiak comes along, it’s worth sticking around for. Jamie had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. The memory of their first interaction was now so old that the minor details had started to get a little fuzzy around the edges, but one thing that had remained the same and would always remain the same was the indescribable warmth that memory brought that would flicker in her stomach like the first sparks of a bonfire, before it crawled through her skin until it felt like she was glowing all over.

They’d been four years old, she’d remembered, and embarking on their first day of kindergarten. Jamie had been wearing dungarees that much she was sure of and his hair was a chaotically endearing mop of blonde curls but she couldn’t quite remember if the sweatshirt he’d been wearing was red or blue, not that it mattered, of course. She remembered seeing a quiet flicker in his eyes that she later understood to have been fear and had offered him the biggest smile she could muster.

That simple gesture, that smile, is what had made Jamie find his courage and give her a toothy grin back after he’d placed his raincoat on the peg. It was also what had him waiting for her to do the same instead of running along into the playroom to find a quiet corner for himself. If anyone asked Jamie what he remembered the most vividly from that day he would always tell them the same thing:

‘Her eyes. Her eyes and that smile.’

He also remembered how the butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Leonora approached him, all bright green eyes and thick wavy brown hair that had been put into bunches, presumably by her mother. Even years later, Jamie still wasn’t quite sure how he even found his voice but he was sure, even at the tender age of four years old, that the girl in front of him was going to be his friend. No, his best friend and so with a shy smile and a quiet voice he said, “My name’s Jamieson but you can call me Jamie.”

“I’m Leonora,” she replied with a confidence that far exceeded her age.

Jamie’s brow had furrowed at that and he’d taken to chewing on his bottom lip.

“Leo- Leono-,” he gave a frustrated little sigh as he tried to roll his tongue around her name and failed. “Can I call you Leo?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “You can call me Leo.”

They’d spent the rest of that morning at the drawing table and neither Leo nor Jamie would be able to tell you exactly what they’d talked about all those years ago, but Leo distinctly remembers sitting next to Jamie while they ate lunch and after he’d learned that strawberries were Leo’s favourite fruit, Jamie had proceeded to give her exactly half of his, counting them out one by one until they both had an equal pile in front of them. He would do that every single time he had strawberries and Leo would do the same for him. They would even do this on the days where they both had strawberries, so their piles would consist of half of Jamie’s and half of Leo’s because ‘friends should always share’.

 That mantra was one that they would carry all through their childhood, from elementary school right until the end of high school and even beyond that. It wasn’t just strawberries that he shared with her either, it was near enough everything. What was Jamie’s was Leo’s and what was Leo’s was Jamie’s, that’s just how things were and it extended beyond the material. They shared happiness and disappointments, highs and lows but perhaps the most special thing that they shared was the joy of being able to watch each other find their identities. Jamie had known about Leo’s confidence from the day he met her and it was something that had only grown and blossomed as time went on. He had always admired how sure of herself she was, even as a small child and as she entered her teenage years, Jamie began to understand just how unapologetically authentic she was. It always knocked him back a bit, how outspoken she could be and how she was never afraid to say what she really meant. Even now, more than two decades later, it still had the ability to knock the air out of his lungs.

Jamie had always been laid back and a little bit shy, awkward even. It was something that he’d carried around with him throughout his life, particularly growing up. He sometimes found it hard to open up around people he didn’t know (although anyone would tell you that once he felt truly comfortable it could be difficult to shut him up) and he was often content to go with the flow. On paper, it could have seemed like Leo and Jamie would drive each other up the wall, with Leo’s feistiness contradicting Jamie’s relaxed nature. Yes, they were opposites in every way, but much like fire and water the two of them found ways to create balance and harmony.

Jamie had always felt like he could truly be himself around Leo and that came from not just a place of familiarity, but also of acceptance. She accepted him as he was despite his shyness and despite the fact that he wasn’t as good with words as she was, but more than that, she built him up and encouraged him in everything he did and that is what made it so easy for Jamie to be open with her, not just about his anxieties and the general worries that your formative years bring, but about everything else too. This was something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Richard and Alison, Jamie’s parents, who couldn’t help but be overjoyed by the spark of confidence their son had whenever he was around the girl with the free and easy laugh and the keen eyes. They welcomed her into their family much in the same way Bill and Diana had welcomed Jamie into theirs and the gruesome twosome (as their families would affectionately call them) were together more often than they were not. It didn’t matter whether they were sitting quietly studying or yelling as they engaged in an overly-competitive game of Crash Team Racing in which Leo would seize and relish the opportunity to gang up on Jamie with his sisters, the bond between them both was clear as day to anyone who knew them and only seemed to strengthen as the years rolled by.

 Their after school routine had remained the same throughout the years and usually consisted of going to one of their houses and sitting in relative silence while they completed their homework, helping each other whenever the need arose. As they got older they would retreat upstairs and spend the time before the other would leave to go home for dinner listening to music and swapping mixtape CDs they’d burned for each other. It was one of those CDs from Jamie that had introduced her to TOOL at the age of sixteen and they had quickly become one of her favourite bands, even still to this day and she always felt a warm kind of fondness spread through her body and resonate in her chest whenever she listened to them, the memory of her first exposure to them still clear in her mind as if it had only been yesterday. She had been laid on her bedroom floor with her legs resting up on the bed and Jamie’s rolled up hoodie under her head as a makeshift pillow, a conscious decision on her part despite being offered one of the pillows off her bed. Truthfully, the fluffy down pillow Jamie had suggested would have been a far comfier option but his hoodie was still warm from where it had been on his body not a half-hour earlier and smelled just like his deodorant and shower-gel and, well, like Jamie and that in itself evoked a kind of softness and comfort within Leo that the pillows on her bed couldn’t begin to replicate, although she’d never admit that out loud to him, of course.

“Okay, so I don’t know if you’ve heard of these before but seriously Leo, they’re fire.”

Jamie was leaning halfway over her from his position on the bed as he placed the cd into her stereo. She squinted at him slightly, unsure of exactly when he’d had this particular growth spurt that made him suddenly look comically large on her double bed.

“What genre?” Leo asked as she watched him settle back against her pillows, his feet hanging off the end of her bed by a hair.

“Prog rock,” he replied, giving Leo a questioning look and a laugh as she audibly groaned. “What?”

“Duh? Remember when your dad made us listen to Rush?”

“This is better, I promise,” Jamie grinned as he pressed play on the small remote in his hand.

“Better be.”

Leo closed her eyes and listened as the first muted notes filtered through the speakers of her stereo followed by a beautifully haunting male voice.

‘So familiar and overwhelmingly warm This one, this form I hold now

Embracing you, this reality here This one, this form I hold now, so Wide eyed and hopeful

Wide eyed and hopefully wild’

To this day Leo can still remember the feeling of something stirring within her chest, an awakening almost, as she connected with the lyrics and the intricate melodies and changing time signatures, somehow made stronger by the fact that Jamie was sharing this with her, which meant that whatever the music was making her feel, Jamie must have felt it too. She let herself get completely lost in the melodies and found herself contemplating the meanings behind the words and allowed them to settle in her bones. She opened her eyes as the track finished to find Jamie watching her with an expectant smile on his face, blue eyes shining with something unspoken that she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “Yeah, really good, actually. What did you say this band was called?”

“Tool and when I was reading up on them I found out they’ve been around for years, like since we were born. I found a few of their albums at the second-hand store, you can borrow them if you want.”

Leo looked at Jamie for a breath, a gentle smile playing on her lips and a thoughtful gleam in her eye, before deciding to move from her position on the floor to squeeze onto her bed with him as the next song on the cd began to play. Jamie shifted slightly to accommodate her and wrapped his arms tightly around her back to pull her into him. It wasn’t the first time that they’d laid like that together, nor would it be the last, but there was a flicker of a feeling in Jamie’s chest as he allowed his senses to really come into focus. It was the soft, almost hypnotic beat of the music in the room, it was the smell of pineapple and coconut from Leo’s shampoo that had become her signature scent but above that it was the way in which his breathing followed the same ebb and flow of hers without him even being conscious of it. It was a sense of unity that he wouldn’t truly understand until he was much older but more than all of that it was being lost in this moment with her.

 Life continued much as it had before but the start of their final year in high school brought about a series of changes for the duo. Jamie was excelling at hockey and there was a real sense of well-placed optimism that his abilities on the ice would take him far. While he didn’t have a definitive plan (keen to keep the majority of his focus on his studies) he knew that there were going to be some tough decisions ahead. Leo was all too aware of the very real possibility that her best friend could be moving away but she tried not to dwell on it too much to keep the tightness in her chest at bay, focusing instead on attaining the grades she needed to attend the University of Toronto to study History. Their final school year also brought a change in the form of a girlfriend for Jamie and while Leo made every effort to befriend Sarah and give her the benefit of the doubt, she knew that Sarah had a real problem with her and her friendship with Jamie. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the girl- oh who was she kidding? Of course she didn’t trust her and while Leo tried not to get into the dangerous habit of comparing herself to Sarah and despite her best efforts and intentions, she couldn’t understand just exactly what Jamie saw in the girl.

She’d spoken to her mother at length about it, not least because she couldn’t help but feel a little pushed out and bent out of shape at her sudden demotion to ‘favourite girl number four’ (she would never dream of putting herself ahead of Penny and Hayley in those rankings), but was only met with her mother’s keen eyes that were far too similar to her own for her liking and an annoying sing-song sentiment of ‘sounds to me like someone is a little jealous’, She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. She just thought that Sarah was bad news and that was all there was to it but, ever the faithful and supportive friend, Leo would put on a smile and be on her best behaviour whenever Sarah was around and she would never say anything derogatory to Jamie about her whenever she wasn’t. She would pretend like it didn’t hurt like a kick to the stomach when Jamie would change his plans with her plans to go hang out with his girlfriend and worked hard to keep the look of pained disappointment on her face at bay when he would unexpectedly bring Sarah along to the plans with Leo that he did keep.

Despite her feelings of definitely-not-jealousy, and much to her dismay, Leo’s gut feelings of mistrust turned out to be well placed when a sullen looking Jamie had turned up at her house a few days before their leaver’s prom. Leo hadn’t planned to go, of course, given that her first choice school dance buddy would be attending with his girlfriend. That all changed though with Jamie’s revelation that he wouldn’t be going with Sarah.

“I don’t follow,” Leo said from behind her glass of water.

“She um…” Jamie rubbed the back of his neck with his large palm, face flushed slightly in embarrassment. “She dumped me, actually.”

Was spitting out her water everywhere the most appropriate response Leo could’ve had? No and it was something that Jamie would mercilessly tease her about in the future at any given opportunity, but it was all she had in a moment where she was filled with genuine shock and disbelief.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Jamie mumbled, his eyes cast downwards to his hands that were in his lap and playing with the hem of his overshirt. “She told me we were done. I found out from Dougie that she was going with Finn Tremblay instead.”

“That jock quarterback? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Leo’s initial shock had quickly dissipated into anger, something that Jamie had gathered from the way her voice had gone up a few octaves and she’d taken to gripping her glass of water so tightly that her knuckles had begun to pale.

“Your glass, Leo.”

She set it down on her nightstand with more force than was necessary and muttered something to herself that Jamie couldn’t quite make out except for a few choice words that included ‘that fucking asshole’ and ‘I knew it’. Her tornadic rage soon quietened to a gentle breeze though as she attuned herself to the sadness radiating from Jamie and she brought herself to look at him with sympathetic eyes.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jame. Really.”

Jamie responded with a small shrug, a desperate attempt at nonchalance albeit feigned that he knew that Leo wouldn’t buy; she knew him far too well for that but it was all he could muster in the moment.

“She didn’t deserve you.”

There was a weight behind those words that surprised both of them and there was a lot more meaning to them too but Jamie didn’t have it in him to push right now and Leo wasn’t about to explore that meaning herself either because truth be told, she’d startled herself with both her choice of words and her delivery. Instead she reached across the space between them where they sat cross-legged opposite each other on her bed and took one of Jamie’s big hands to rub gentle circles across the back of it.

“It’ll be okay,” she spoke gently, her voice a shade above a whisper.

“I know,” Jamie murmured and he meant it too because he knew that Leo was right. It would be okay. It would always be okay as long as he had her in his life.

The pair resolved to make the most of a shitty situation (although Leo was sure to let Sarah know exactly what she thought of her) and, after some last minute dress shopping, Leo had found herself looking uncharacteristically glam to attend prom with Jamie. They’d insisted that it was no big deal but you’d never guess it from the way both parents couldn’t contain their excitement as they took pictures of the duo in front of Bill and Diana’s fireplace. Diana and Alison shared a knowing glance on more than one occasion and were practically bursting with glee as Jamie slipped the corsage he’d bought for Leo onto her wrist. One of the things that struck Jamie the most about that night was the ease in which it was to slow-dance with Leo. He’d anticipated it to be awkward and a little bit uncomfortable, y’know, given that Leo was just a friend and while he couldn’t deny the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, he also couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head lower to nose at her hair either.

 One of the things that Leo was consistently described as being by all who knew her was a ‘whirlwind’. Whenever she’d have a spark of an idea she’d add kindling and stoke it, fanning the flames until it was a roaring fire and even the calming waters of Jamie couldn’t quell it. There was no stopping her once she’d set her mind on something and while Jamie appreciated that drive and determination, it had landed them both in hot water on more than one occasion. The first time was just before Leo’s seventeenth birthday when she’d asked him to accompany her to get her nose pierced. He’d discovered as they were sat in the waiting room, much to his horror, that she hadn’t actually told her parents about her plans to get a piercing and although she was of the legal age of consent, he’d still uttered the words ‘this is a really bad idea’; but even he couldn’t deny that the small little stud, which would later be swapped out for a dainty silver hoop, completed her face and served as an extension of her personality. Her parents on the other hand hadn’t quite seen it that way and Jamie remembers to this day, with great clarity, the exact lecture they’d given her the second they noticed the new addition to their daughter’s face and while they’d not blamed Jamie for not stopping their daughter’s impulsive behaviour he couldn’t help but feel like an enabler. The telling-off from Bill and Diana did little to deter Leo and before long she’d expanded her piercing collection with multiple ear piercings and, much to her mother’s dislike, a navel piercing. Jamie hadn’t learned his lesson either though because during the summer after they’d both turned eighteen, he once again found himself being dragged along to a tattoo parlour by Leo to fulfil his best-friend duty of chief hand holder while she got her very first ink.

That summer would prove to be the last one before everything changed. From the moment the pair entered their last year of high school, the reality of their futures beyond school loomed over them. It was easy to ignore for the most part, school served as a good distraction and kept Jamie and Leo busy enough that they didn’t have much time to venture too far down that rabbit hole but these kinds of things have a habit of rolling around, regardless of our best efforts to ignore them, as sure as death and taxes. Leo’s future at the University of Toronto was set in stone with the return of her provincial exam results and while she should have been delighted at the fact she’d be enrolling at her first choice university and studying her chosen degree, the uncertainty of where Jamie would be and what that would mean for their friendship weighed heavily on her mind and with each passing day of summer that inched them towards September, Leo felt as if she had feet like concrete and a head like lead. Jamie sensed this, of course, knowing her better than anyone, even herself and that’s what made the decision to move across the border, so that he could pursue a career in hockey, the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his eighteen years of life, only surpassed by the conversation neither Jamie nor Leo ever wanted to have.

That evening would stay with Jamie forever like a scar from a wound, vivid and raw at first before fading into something so faint that it’s barely noticeable, except it was still there. It would always be there. The look on Leo’s face was like a knife through his chest and the tears that clung to her cheeks like fresh dew on a rose petal felt like someone was twisting it further into the cut.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’? When? Where?”

“Massachusetts, I’m going to Northeastern University. They have a really good collegiate hockey programme there and-“

Jamie was cut off by Leo shaking her head vehemently as her tears began to flow more freely, her voice strangled in her throat.

“No. You-you can’t. Please, Jame. You could play hockey anywhere, you don’t need to go to another country.”

He swallowed thickly as he watched her, the lump in his throat growing by the second while he willed himself not to cry at the pleading look in her tear-filled eyes. It was ironic really, that the person begging him to stay was the same person who had given him the confidence to take that leap of faith and spread his wings in the first place. If you’d have told Jamie even three years ago that he’d be moving away from everything he’d ever known to a foreign country at age eighteen and take steps towards chasing his dream of playing professional hockey he’d have laughed in your face, but being around Leo and hearing her tell him every single day that he was ‘awesome’ and ‘could be anything he wanted to be in the whole world’ made him slowly start to believe it himself.

“I wish it was that simple, Leo. I do.”

Jamie’s voice was so quiet and raw that he barely recognised it as being his own but it was and Leo heard him. She heard what he was saying and everything that he wasn’t and her eyes closed as her lips were drawn together in a tight line while she held on tightly to the thread that was keeping whatever composure she had left together. She knew deep down that this is what Jamie needed to do, that he couldn’t stay in Toronto and for what? For her? That was a kind of selfishness that Leo wasn’t comfortable with, no matter how tempting it was and no matter how much she wished that she could spend every day for the rest of her life being able to hang out with her best friend, he was destined for greatness. She was sure of it. So she nodded as fresh tears streaked down her face, her voice muted and broken, “I know, Jame. I know that. It’s just… I’m really gonna miss you.”

Jamie reached for her as the first sobs she’d been holding back surged forward, pulling her into his lap from his position at the head of her bed and settling her against his chest. His own tears fell silently into her hair while he held her steadfast, willing the broken pieces of her heart back together with each ‘I’m sorry’ that he murmured against the crown of her head. Jamie had never once allowed himself to imagine a life where he wouldn’t see Leo every day but as he stared down the reality, his new reality, he was thankful for every bit of strength and courage the girl wrapped within his arms had ever given him, and while he knew that it would be hard and while he knew that the sting of missing her would sit heavily in his chest every single day, he knew that it would be worth it all to make her proud.

 While the Earth continues on its pilgrimage around the Sun, life goes on. Life must go on and though it hadn’t been the easiest adjustment for Leo and Jamie to make, they’d made it all the same. They managed to talk most days, often Skyping each other as they went about their evening routines and while it wasn’t anywhere close to the real thing, it would serve as a good enough substitute until summer rolled around again and Jamie would be back home in Toronto. It was both a blessing and a curse, how quickly the months collapsed into each other and it felt like no sooner had Leo started her first semester, she was taking her end of first year exams and looking forward to having a couple of months off before September crept back around and she’d suddenly become a second year. The anticipation of seeing Jamie again was only fuelled further by their shared excitement at their plans for their time together. Both of them had celebrated turning nineteen since the last time they’d seen each other in person and while Leo had enjoyed her first legal drink over Skype with Jamie, it wasn’t quite the same knowing that he wasn’t able to have one with her because of the difference in drinking laws but they’d resolved to use their new found legal drinking status to buy each other a drink once he was back home.

His first night back in the city was spent in Leo’s room where they’d laid side-by-side on her bed, fingers intertwined and talked until they were hoarse. It knocked Jamie back a bit, as he listened to her recount her first year at college, how the girl beside him was both different and still the same all at the same time. University had done her good, he thought, and she seemed a little more worldly and wise, or she did in his eyes anyway. But the fire still burned in her belly, brighter than before in some ways and Jamie was struck by the realisation that his best friend, the girl he’d known all his life, was blossoming into a woman. Some things never change though because she’d almost bowled him over as she practically launched herself at him and into his arms when she opened the front door to find him stood on her parents’ porch, somehow even taller than he was when he’d left nine months ago. He’d reluctantly made the short journey home a little after 1am and Leo had slept more soundly that night that she could ever remember.

It was a Saturday night in early-August when the two of them had decided to head into the city to fulfil their promise of buying each other a drink. Leo had suggested The Lab as she’d been there a few times already throughout her first year and had always had a good time. In all their years of friendship Jamie could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Leo with more makeup on that her usual mascara and Burt’s Bees lip balm so to say he was a little floored as he watched her come out of her house from his spot in the back seat of a taxi was an understatement. Her long chocolate hair was in beachy waves and the upper half of it was secured into two little space buns on the top of her head. His eyes flitted over the celestial print mini dress that hung loosely on her body and down to her signature black doc martens and felt his chest begin to flutter in a most unusual way. She didn’t give him too long to question those feelings though because she was opening the cab door and sliding into the seat next to him before he could really decipher what that was all about.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” he replied, looking at her a little dumbfounded as he took in the smoked eyeliner she wore and the subtle wash of colour on her lips. “You look…”

“Please say ‘nice’,” she whined. “I had a total crisis about ten minutes before you arrived. You should see the state of my room. Clothes everywhere.”

Jamie chuckled at that and his eyes had softened in a way that was both familiar to Leo and different all at the same time. There was the usual friendliness there, sure, but there was something that she just couldn’t quite place hidden within those ocean eyes of his. The easy smirk he was wearing was one she’d seen before though and so she wasn’t surprised to hear that his response was one of playful teasing.

“I was gonna say that you look great, but yeah, let’s go with ‘nice’”.

Leo instinctively rolled her eyes and swatted gently at his bicep with an exaggerated sigh.

“Ass.”

“It’s not like you to wear makeup,” Jamie remarked.

“Yeah, well, figured I’d make an effort seeing as though this is technically a belated birthday celebration.”

“I’m honoured that you thought I was worth the effort.” Even in the darkness of the back of the cab, Leo could still see the shit eating grin that had graced Jamie’s features.

“Who said I made the effort for you?” she replied without missing as much as a beat. “I might be wanting to look pretty for the handsome men of Toronto.”

“What handsome men?”

Jamie cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, not only at what he’d said but also at his delivery which had been rushed and a shade accusatory. It’d taken him a little by surprise if he was to be completely honest and he didn’t quite understand why the suggestion had made him feel a momentary pang of annoyance and disappointment all at once. Much like a bolt of lightning though, it had gone no sooner had it come. Leo simply scoffed, not prepared to unpack whatever the hell that was and replied with a gentle roll of her eyes.

“It was a joke, Jame. No one in this city is dumb enough to go out with me.”

The words were there on the tip of Jamie’s tongue, all he had to do was say them but the fact they were there at all had made Jamie’s heart take off galloping and so he swallowed those words down and forced his eyes away from his best friend, because that’s all this was between them, and out of the cab window to look at the passing lights outside.

Jamie had been successful at stuffing the weird tightening in his chest he’d felt from the second he’d laid eyes on Leo down into his stomach and the beer he was drinking was doing a good enough job at drowning it. Leo on the other hand was having a much tougher time of things. Instead of the Long Island Iced Tea hushing her racing mind it seemed to give it more impetus. Why did Jamie have such a knee-jerk reaction to what was quite clearly a joke? Why was she suddenly really impressed at the fact he could sing The Bad Touch word for word when it was something he’d been able to do for years? Why did the plaid over-shirt she’d seen him wear hundreds of times look so good on him all of a sudden? And when did he get so broad? She had questions, lots of them and even her questions had questions, the biggest one being ‘why am I being weird about this all of a sudden?’ It was Jamie. It was just Jamie, her best friend of fifteen years.

She hadn’t planned on having a second Long Island Iced Tea and she definitely hadn’t planned on two turning into three but perhaps the third time was the charm because the whirring in her head had stopped and all she could focus on was the lopsided grin on Jamie’s face as he looked at her from his position on the barstool to her right.

“You’re drunk,” she grinned from behind her glass, in no position herself to make such a statement.

“’m not,” Jamie replied in the way that only a drunk person trying to convince both themselves and everyone else that they weren’t.

“Liar.”

“Says you.”

Leo laughed at that, a little wild and a lot silly and it split Jamie’s face into a huge grin while he brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair back out of her face. Leo’s laughter softened into a gentle smile, her eyes fixed on Jamie’s. He’d always loved her eyes, he thought, ever since they were small and they were every hue of the forest, rimmed coolly with moss. Their lightness often reminded him of summertime, when the sun-rays warmed each extended leaf and even now, in the darkness of the dimly lit bar, he could see them sparkling like emeralds and while he wasn’t sure if it was the beers that had him feeling a little bolder than usual, he couldn’t stop himself from asking her the question that had been sitting high in his throat since the cab ride there.

“Why’d you say that before? About no one in this city bein’ dumb enough to date you?”

She shrugged apathetically while her fingers busied themselves with the hem of her dress.

“S’true,” she replied. “’m not easy to be around. I know that. You know that, you’ve been puttin’ up with my ass for fifteen years.”

“Leo.”

“What?”

Jamie reached his hand down and squeezed her leg gently, enough pressure just to get her eyes on his.

“I was honestly surprised that you weren’t datin’ anyone. You’re… God, you’re so fuckin’ awesome. Any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.”

Leo tore her eyes away from his just long enough to get the heat quickly rising in her cheeks under control. Jamie waited for her, his eyes soft and gentle when she finally met his gaze again.

“Any girl would be lucky to have you,” Leo mumbled.

“Tell that to Sarah,” Jamie chuckled quietly in response.

“Sarah was stupid,” Leo said with a vehemence that made Jamie’s stomach flutter and had him leaning in to bring his face closer to hers without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He was so close now that Leo felt his reply on the exhale of his breath against her lips. She looked down at Jamie’s mouth and swallowed hard, her eyes closing as he inched his mouth closer and closer until-

“Jamie!”

The warmth of anticipation quickly receded and Leo opened her eyes to see Jamie pulling back from her and looking wildly over his shoulder for the source of the voice. Leo had assumed he’d found it when she felt him slide off the stool beside her, instantly missing his presence, and cross the short distance to the man who’d called his name who turned out to be a guy they’d both known from high school. She knew that she should’ve followed Jamie’s lead and catch up with an old acquaintance and she knew that if her mother knew what she was doing she’d think her to be rude, but Leo’s mind wasn’t in any position to be giving the instructions required to move her legs because while she sat there mindlessly playing with the beer mat that had found itself between her fingers, her brain was already analysing what just happened in about a million different ways while still managing to ignore the complete obvious when it came to acknowledging what it all meant.

 The third Long Island Iced Tea was a bad idea, that much was clear to Leo as she awoke the next morning. She was thankful that her past drunken-self had at least had the foresight to bring a pint of water and a Tylenol up to bed with her. She groaned as she hauled herself up the pillows until she was propped up against them, sitting with her head resting against the headboard and cursing the tiny crack in her curtains that was catapulting the morning sunlight right into her eyes. She reached for her water and took a sip to swallow the tablet before taking long, deep gulps until the glass was drained. Leo wasn’t exactly sure why she’d found herself almost kissing Jamie although if you were to ask her a decade later she’d tell you that she knew exactly why, but rather she was simply refusing to acknowledge the glaringly obvious. She chewed on her bottom lip much the same way her mind was chewing over his words to her last night: ‘any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’ What did that mean exactly? And why would he say something like that?

She was pulled from her brooding by the obnoxious vibration of her phone against the nightstand. Leo knew who the message was from before she’d even unlocked her phone and while a very large part of her wanted to just forget last night ever happened and carry on as normal, she was also curious to hear Jamie’s thoughts on it all.

Jamie: Hey, just wanted to check in with you. Hope the head isn’t too bad this morning 🙈 x

Leo: Drunk me was a very good friend to future hungover me and made sure I had some water and Tylenol lol I bet you don’t even have one, which is very rude by the way. If I’m suffering then you have to suffer too x

Leo paused for a moment as her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, racking her brain for the words needed to gently broach the subject of last night. She’d hoped that Jamie would save her the trouble but she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Jamie: I had a slight headache this morning but I imagine it’s nothing compared to yours. You were really going for it with those Iced Teas 😂 x

Leo: Three was a mistake, yes x

Leo: Actually, while we’re on the subject I kinda wanted to talk to you about last night x

Jamie: You mean we weren’t already talking about it? X

Leo: I meant the part where it seemed like you were going to kiss me, specifically x

Jamie: Ah. Yeah. That x

Leo pulled her hand through her hair and sighed in frustration, almost regretting even bringing it up. She was almost certain that Jamie had meant nothing by it, they’d both had a lot to drink, right? Surely this was just one of those things between two good friends caused by too much to drink and they’d be laughing about it in a few months’ time. That was Leo’s take on it, anyway, and she was sticking to it.

Leo: I mean, we were both drunk, right? X

Jamie: Yeah, I guess x

Leo: And I think it was just a combination of the alcohol and still having those feelings of missing you while you were away and I was just so excited that you were home that I got swept up in it all x

Jamie: Right. Yeah, that makes sense x

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought, knowing that really this should have been a conversation they’d had face to face but better to address it now than wait and give them both chance to analyse it to death.

Leo: So we’ll just chalk it up as one of those weird alcohol moments? X

Jamie: Yeah, sounds good to me x

While it didn’t do much to settle her nerves, Jamie’s response was good enough for her and she felt confident enough that the matter could be put to bed and that it wasn’t necessary to give it any more thought. She sent Jamie a final message to tell him that she was going to get up to take a shower and that she’d talk to him later on after she’d got home from visiting her grandparents. Jamie had too decided that a shower was the best course of action, partly to wash the smell of bar and cigarette smoke from his body but also as an attempt to clear his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why last night of all nights he felt like he couldn’t take his eyes off Leo. Sure, she was wearing makeup which wasn’t something that she would usually do but it wasn’t as if that act itself was out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary though was the way his hands felt on her waist as they danced together, the way he remembered his heart had sounded as it whooshed in his ears when his lips were no more than a hair away from hers. That almost contact had set a fire in his belly and now that it had been lit he wasn’t exactly sure if it could actually be extinguished. Maybe Leo was right though. Perhaps it was one of those moments that should be chalked up as them both having too much alcohol and too much time apart; Jamie’s only hope was that if he could ignore that fire for long enough and not stoke the flames by giving it all too much thought, it would burn out on its own.

 August quietly slipped by and all too soon Jamie and Leo were once again saying farewell. Instead of heading back to Massachusetts, Jamie was going to be making a new home in Saginaw, Michigan having decided to sign with the Spirit in order to further develop himself. Leo continued to catch up with Jamie much in the same way they had the year before while she threw herself into her studies, the four hour drive often being just that little bit too far to make their conflicting schedules feasibly work. Her passion for her degree was clear to Jamie and he looked forward to hearing all about her classes and assignments, even going so far as asking her to send them to him so he could read about all that she’d been learning so far. Jamie had always known that Leo was incredibly bright, she’d always been articulate and she always knew exactly how to express herself which was something that Jamie both admired and was envious of. While he still had a long way to go, he never let himself forget just how much he’d learned from her in that respect and it was just one of the many reasons that he was grateful for her friendship. The ease in which she expressed her ideas and opinions in her academic writing was so impressive to Jamie and it really gave him a new appreciation for her mind and her talent. These were all things he already knew, of course, but seeing her flying and flourishing at university filled him with an immense amount of pride for her.

Naturally, much like most things in their lives, that feeling of pride was felt by Leo whenever Jamie told her about his games and life playing in the OHL and she was beyond excited for him when she’d watched him get selected by Dallas in the 2011 draft. She followed games whenever she could and talked to Jamie after he’d finished playing whenever their schedules would allow. She was so unbelievably happy to see Jamie making positive steps towards his professional playing career and when his path led him back to St. Catharines, Ontario to play for the Niagara IceDogs, Leo could have burst with the joy of having her favourite person back home, even though he was busy more often than not. Despite his schedule, Jamie always made himself available to talk to her whenever school had her stressed, especially given that her third year was proving to be quite the challenge and the closer proximity to home meant that they could hang out a lot more whenever their schedules allowed. But more importantly, as had been the common theme throughout their lives so far, they pulled each other through the ups and downs of the year and spent that summer joined at the hip, enjoying their last bit of time together before Jamie would make the move down to Texas just before the start of Leo’s final year at university.

If Leo had thought that her third year was difficult then she was in for a rude awakening when it came to her final one. The pace was relentless, especially when it came to balancing all of her different classes and assignments and while Jamie didn’t have a clue what she was talking about half the time, he was happy that she was at least enjoying the process and supported her in any capacity he could across all the miles and time zones. Leo couldn’t watch as many of Jamie’s games as she would have liked, given her own gruelling schedule, but she sent him words of encouragement every single day and despite her not being able to be physically with him, Jamie felt her presence all around him just the same and counted down the days until he’d be able to spend the summer with her once more. He’d talk with her whenever he could and there were more times that she’d fallen asleep still on the line with him than Jamie could count, each time making the ache in his chest more prominent than the last. Trips to Toronto during the season were infrequent and much too short but seeing her, even for those few hours after a game, where it felt like there had been no time or distance between them both at all, gave him the quiet peace he needed until he could be with her again, laid on her bed at her parents’ house with the windows open, the gentle breeze and her soft humming against his chest as they listened to music together with their fingers laced tight.

Jamie still remembers to this day the exact moment that Leo opened her degree results. He’d thankfully been home and arrived at her parents’ house not long after 9am to have breakfast with them while they waited for the results to go live on the school online portal. Diana had made pancakes, he recalled, with bacon and maple syrup and Bill had been out in the car to pick up a Tim Horton’s for everyone and (hopefully) celebratory Timbits for Leo. Jamie wished that he could’ve bottled the look on Leo’s face when she found out that she’d be graduating from the University of Toronto with a Bachelor of Arts in History with a minor in Religious Studies and because of her exceptionally high grades, she could therefore progress onto the Master’s program to study History further. He remembered whispering in her ear how proud he was of her as he held onto her tightly and it only grew with the realisation that he’d get to share that moment with her on her graduation day.

 On June 18th, 2014 Leonora Harris awoke to her father carrying in a tray laden with coffee, fresh orange, toast and jam along with a card bearing handwriting she recognised as belonging to Alison Oleksiak. Her was mother close behind with the biggest bouquet of flowers Leo had ever seen bundled within her arms.

“Happy graduation day, sweetheart,” Bill said softly as he placed the tray into Leo’s lap after waiting for her to sit herself up and dropped a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“These came for you about five minutes ago,” Diana added, setting the bouquet down on the nightstand.

Leo took the opportunity to peer at the flowers wrapped in brown paper and cellophane and tied up with string. Her floral knowledge was admittedly limited but she recognised the large lion-head dahlia blooms nestled amongst sunflowers and yellow roses and peppered with smaller sprays of baby’s breath. She reached for the small card poking out from amongst the flowers and opened the envelope to reveal a small piece of paper. After admiring the beautiful penmanship of whomever had written the message she allowed herself to read it and felt a lovely warmth spread from the centre of her chest all the way down to her toes.

Leo,

Congrats again on your new membership to the Silly Hat Club! Enjoy every second and don’t trip over. I’m really proud of you and I always knew you could do it.

Love, J xxx

Leo smiled as she put the small piece of paper back into the envelope before turning her attention to the card on her breakfast tray which had contained a ‘Happy Graduation’ card from the Oleksiaks and a gift certificate for her favourite book store which was where she bought the majority of her second hand CDs from.

“Exicted?” her mother asked from her new position sat by Leo’s feet at the end of the bed, her hand laid gently on her shins over the comforter.

Leo nodded and echoed her mother’s smile in reply.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Diana continued, voice cracking slightly as she sniffled with pure happiness. “So, so proud.”

“Thank you, mama. Not sure I coulda done it without you both though.”

“We just gave you the tools, Nora Noo,” Bill spoke softly. “The hard work was all yours.”

Leo grinned at her father and it was a smile she would wear for the remainder of the day. She felt every bit the part in her navy blue wrap dress underneath her cap and gown and Jamie had to fight hard to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched his favourite person in the whole world cross the stage to collect her diploma. He didn’t miss the sly glance and smirk Penny was wearing to his left and all he could manage was a mumbled ‘shut up’ which told the youngest Oleksiak all she needed to know and would have her looking rather smug for the rest of the day. The group returned to the Harris house after the ceremony had finished and Alison and Diana were satisfied they had all the photos they needed. Leo wasn’t even sure how her mother had found the time to prepare food but within twenty minutes of them arriving back at the house, the kitchen island was filled with various nibbles and a charcuterie board. The champagne was popped and Bill led the group in raising a glass to Leo, Jamie with his arm tight around her waist all the while.

Long after the food had been cleared away and their families had begun to migrate towards the living room, Jamie took the opportunity to gently grab Leo’s hand and lead her through the kitchen out to the back porch, refilling their champagne flutes on the way and purposefully ignoring the shit-eating grins Hayley and Penny were throwing their way. He settled on the swing loveseat, his large arm draped along the back and nodded for Leo to sit down beside him. She settled back against the cushions, her body pressed lightly into his side and took a sip of champagne as the pair slipped into an easy silence while twilight slowly began to descend all around them. They stayed that way for a few minutes, content to watch as the sky melted into a watercolour of magenta, red and violet. Jamie broke the stillness first with a voice so quiet that Leo could’ve been forgiven for not hearing him at all. She could feel him prepare to speak before the words had even left his mouth though, the small breath he took settling all through her own body and preparing her for whatever he was about to say.

“I’m so proud of you, y’know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Leo whispered in reply, not wanting to burst the calm bubble that they’d cultivated around them.

Jamie reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet drawstring bag, handing it to Leo and nodding for her to open it.

“What’s this?”

“Your graduation present,” Jamie smiled softly.

“But you already sent me flowers,” Leo protested.

“Those were your graduation flowers. This is your graduation present.”

“Jame.”

“Just open the damn bag,” he laughed quietly, blue eyes keen as he watched her run the cord between her fingers.

Leo’s fingers pulled at the cord around the top of the pouch to open it up and reached inside to pull out a thin woven leather bracelet. The silver of the clasp glinted faintly in the afterglow of the day and dangling from the tan cord were two silver charms: a graduation cap and a lion head. Leo swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep her tears at bay, not quite trusting herself to speak for fear that once she started crying, she would not be able to stop.

“Do you like it?” Jamie asked nervously after Leo’s silence had gone on a little too long for comfort.

“I love it, Jamie,” she sniffled. “It’s perfect.”

She handed the bracelet to him and offered her wrist in a wordless request for him to put it on her. He took it from her gladly and after a few seconds of fiddling and a nervous laugh from Jamie as his large fingers struggled with the dainty clasp, the bracelet was around her wrist and Leo was smiling softly as she admired it. Jamie’s arm had found its way back to its previous position along the back of the swing, his fingers tracing patterns along Leo’s upper arm idly which was something he’d done countless times before and yet none had ever felt as intimate as it did in that moment. His heart had taken to hammering in his chest as he watched her and the way the dusk and the faint glow of the string lights on the porch gave her an almost ethereal quality which made the fire in his stomach that he’d tried so hard to forget about spring to life and begin to burn ferociously. It was almost too much, that overwhelming need to kiss her despite not quite understanding where these feelings were coming from and why they were springing up now of all times, but he remembered the night at the bar where they’d come to within a breath of it and he remembered the morning after, their conversation and the fact that they were just friends and that Leo wasn’t really his. So he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment, he took a deep, settling breath before casting his eyes back out towards the sky.

“Are you okay?”

Her question was quiet and soft and it crawled all through Jamie’s skin to settle within his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied just as quietly. “Just… Thinking about when we were kids and how much everything has changed.”

“We’re still the same though, you and I.”

“You are, but you’ve always been awesome and smart and just… amazing but I’m not the same,” Jamie shook his head. “I’m so different to what I used to be, in the best kind of way and I know that that’s down to you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Leo murmured.

“Except you did,” he countered but with the softness still present in his tone. “You taught me what it meant to be brave and made me believe that I could do anything and because of you I’m playing in the AHL, I played for the Dallas Stars and even if I never get called up to play for them again, I did it. I played in the NHL and I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“Jamie.”

Leo’s voice was caught somewhere in her throat, tangled up in the lump that stubbornly sat there and all she could do was reach for his other hand and hold it tightly in his lap.

“It’s true and you wanna know what else is true?” He paused while he waited for Leo to reply which he got as a small nod before continuing, sure and steady in his delivery. “That you’re gonna kick ass on this master’s degree. You’re the smartest person I know, Leo and you’re gonna be fucking amazing.”

Leo rested her head onto Jamie’s shoulder, mostly out of a need to be close to him but partly because her eyes were full to the brim with tears and she didn’t want him to see her cry on what was such a happy day, which was probably a good thing because a few stray tears had slipped out and onto Jamie’s cheeks as well.

“You’re such a sap,” she half-teased, her voice muffled by his button up shirt but she squeezed his hand all the same.

Jamie closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss into her hair, the gentle teasing enough to pull him back into reality, the one where they were just friends and where their relationship was easy and didn’t need to be complicated by romantic feelings, the reality where come September he’d be leaving town again and they would go back to phone calls and FaceTiming across the time zones whenever they could. They were just friends. They were just friends. They were just friends.

Jamie swallowed thickly and forced a lightness into his tone and a smile onto his face before he gave her a reply. “Yeah, I know. But don’t go tellin’ anyone or we’re gonna have to throw hands.”

“You’re too scared to fight me, Oleksiak.”

Jamie breathed a laugh into her hair at that, her response so quick and quippy and so Leo that it was enough to elicit a real and genuine chuckle despite the knot that sat heavy in his stomach. His fingers flexing around the shoulder his arm was draped over as he spoke, “Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

It would be something that Jamie wouldn’t find out until much later on, but from the moment he put that bracelet around Leo’s wrist, she made damn sure that she never ever took it off, even as the months rolled into years and even when it felt like there was so much distance between them, both literally and figuratively, that bracelet was a reminder to Leo that her favourite person was always with her, no matter what.

Jamie meanwhile would keep trying to smother the fire that Leo had set in his stomach the night they’d almost kissed but despite his best efforts, the flames would keep creeping higher and higher with every single thought he had of her and he was beginning to understand that they would not stop until they reached his chest and engulfed his heart completely.

 The next couple of years would pass for both Jamie and Leo in a bit of a blur. Leo threw herself into her master’s education completely, determined to give herself the best possible chance of landing a good job after she’d graduated. It was as intense as she’d expected it to be and while she had initially struggled to pick a topic for her thesis, after numerous 3am phone calls with Jamie and a heart-to-heart with her parents, she finally settled on focusing her paper on the role of the church on life in the Middle Ages, which to quote Jamie, sounded ‘impressive as fuck’. The research material was interesting enough and Leo found that there was enough there for her to really get into the meat of it all. Jamie on the other hand was trying his hardest to establish himself as an NHL defenseman and would find himself flitting between the Texan and Dallas Stars. He’d have been lying if he said that it didn’t weigh heavily on him sometimes and while he tried his hardest to keep his conversations with Leo light so as not to worry her during an important part of her studying, her incredible ability to sense when he wasn’t quite feeling himself was so good that it was almost eerie. He would apologise every single time for venting and she would tell him that’s what friends were for and offer him words of encouragement and advice that spurred him on and pushed him to keep working hard and to keep chasing his dream of making it in the National Hockey League.

Leo graduated for a second time in the summer of 2016 with a Masters in History, achieving a remarkable A+ as her final grade which secured her dream job working at the Royal Ontario Museum. Jamie once again sat at her parents’ side, chest swelling with pride, as he watched her cross that stage to collect her diploma. He’d also helped her move into and decorate her first apartment, an airy two bedroomed place not far from her new place of employment and Jamie’s own downtown loft that he was renting, right before he had to fly out to Rio to watch Penny represent team Canada at the Olympics. Leo called Jamie after every single one of Penny’s races, making sure to get a promise from him that he would tell the youngest Oleksiak just how proud Leo was of her and of course, reminding Jamie that he was henceforth known as ‘Penny’s brother’ and that he would no longer be allowed to pick on her now that she was Canada’s sweetheart, which had earned her a great deal of grumbling from Jamie.

Jamie was thankful that he would at least get to spend a couple of weeks at home before he was due to fly back down to Texas. It was a late-August evening when Leo found herself sprawled out on Jamie’s couch. He’d only been back from Brazil for a couple of days but had said that there was a couple of things that he needed to do before he had to leave to report for training camp. He was playing on his Playstation and while at first Leo been content to just scroll through Instagram, she’d soon grown tired of that and was now eyeing him from her position at the opposite end of the sofa. If he noticed her restless sighs he certainly didn’t give anything away and his focus remained fixed on the television. She narrowed her eyes at him after a particularly obnoxious exhale of her breath garnered zero reaction or response and began to scoot slowly towards him, a mischievous glint in her eye that could only be born out of boredom.

Leo settled next to Jamie on her knees, a slow grin forming as she looked at him. He was still looking at the TV, completely engrossed in whatever game it was that he was playing and if he had noticed her then he kept maintaining an air of indifference as his thumbs pushed at the buttons on his controller. She’d started by giving his bicep a gentle prod, looking at him expectantly while she waited for his eyes to find hers. Nothing. She prodded again, a little harder this time and while she noticed the corner of his lips quirk he still didn’t turn his gaze onto her. Leo furrowed her brows as a small pout graced her features which earned a faint chuckle from Jamie. He knew what she was trying to do, of course, knowing her better than anyone, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, at least not yet.

Leo began to gently prod the side of his head, her pout devolving into an impish little grin as she noticed Jamie roll his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Oh my god, can you not?” he grumbled but with a playful edge to his tone.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me attention.”

“Real mature. Not the kind of behaviour I’d expect from a master’s graduate at all,” he smirked as he side eyed her.

“Those are your standards, Jamie, and quite frankly, I don’t subscribe to them.”

She reached down to pinch at his ribs through the thin material of his tank top, the yelp she received more pained than she was anticipating.

“Oh my god! I did not pinch you that hard!”

“You got me right on my tattoo!” Jamie protested.

“What tattoo? Since when have you had a tattoo there?”

Jamie lifted the hem of his tank to reveal an intricately patterned tribal lion head, the skin still red and raw.

“When did you get that done?” Leo asked, looking closely at it.

“Yesterday so it’s still pretty fuckin’ tender.”

“Awwww,” Leo smirked, making Jamie’s eyes flicker with a hint of nervousness at the devilish look in her eye and the mischief in her tone. “You love me so much you got a lion.”

Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes as Leo’s face split into a fiendish grin.

“I did not get a lion for you. You don’t have the monopoly on lions, y’know. They can represent lots of things, like bravery or courage. Not everything is about you, Leo.”

“Suuuure,” she teased.

“Whatever,” Jamie grumbled as he pulled his shirt back down and used the controller to turn off the Playstation before setting it down on the coffee table. “Happy?” he groused but still surveyed Leo with that familiar warmth he had in his eyes that was reserved exclusively for her.

“Yup,” she replied, obnoxiously putting her feet into his lap and wiggling them until he brought his hand down to rest upon her shin, the gentle weight of it and the warmth of his touch against her bare legs sparking a sad smile on her features while she studied his features like she was committing them once again to memory, the realisation that he would be gone again next week washing over her like someone had just blown a dam.

“What?” he asked with a gentle chuckle while his eyes searched her face.

“Nothing, just… I’m gonna miss you when you go back to the States.”

“You’re gonna miss harassing me, more like.”

“No!” she rebutted, before immediately giving him a small grin. “I mean, yeah, but not just that. I’m gonna miss you. I always miss you.”

Jamie’s expression softened as her voice trailed off and his thumb began to take on a mind of its own as it started drawing small circles against her skin.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper to which she nodded in reply, unable to speak for the quickly forming lump in her throat. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Leo shifted and moved towards Jamie, slotting easily against his side like she belonged there while still being cognizant of the still fresh tattoo. As Jamie pulled her closer he tried not to lose it as her arm draped lazily across his abdomen and her face pressed against his chest. Her fingers had occupied themselves with the hem of his shirt and he swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as they’d slipped underneath the fabric and were dancing lightly over the skin above the waistband of his shorts. Leo didn’t notice the wide-eyed expression on his face though, her eyes were closed and she was too focused on the strong beat of his heart to stop herself from spiralling over the thought of him going back to Texas and not seeing him again for another nine months. She hated this part, the part where he would go back to his other life, the other life that she was only a part of via a telephone screen and while she knew that his life was really none of her business, it was getting harder and harder to remind herself that he wasn’t really hers and to let go of all the anxieties and insecurities him leaving would bring.

 If he’d heard it once, he’d heard it a thousand times: ‘you need to get yourself a girl, Rig.’ While Jamie knew that this particular sentiment from his teammates came from a good place, it wasn’t as easy as just picking up any girl in a bar and falling into bed with her and while he knew that it wasn’t a betrayal and that he certainly shouldn’t view it as such, the lion on his ribs made it feel like one regardless because whatever bullshit he’d fed Leo about it representing courage and bravery, they were traits that he’d learned from her and it was his way of having her with him always. It wasn’t like he wasn’t at least trying, but he knew fine well the reasons why he could never get past a first date with anyone, because whether he was consciously doing it or not, none of them could compare with the girl back home in Toronto with the jade green eyes. Jamie was beginning to understand that it was senseless to try and ignore what was right in front of him but he was so crippled by the fear that it’d been too long, that too much had been left to build up, that, as Segs had put it, he’d find himself ‘eternally friend-zoned.’ Jamie knew that he’d been through too much with Leo, that she’d become such an intrinsic part of his life, that he was sure his heart would shatter if he lost her and the last thing he wanted to do was push her away with a confession of love that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d reciprocate.

‘The way I see it there’s three possible scenarios here,’ Tyler had said. ‘You tell her how you feel and she tells you she feels the same way. Boom. Happily ever after. You tell her how you feel and she tells you she loves you but just as a friend and you have to go on knowing that or you confess your love, she freaks the fuck out and you ruin twenty-plus years of friendship’ and because success wasn’t a complete guarantee, Jamie figured the best course of action would be to suck it up because if he had to choose between having Leo only as a friend and not having her at all, then he would be her friend and love her quietly for the rest of his days.

Their lives had continued much in the same way as before. They would talk whenever they were able to, which was less than they both would’ve liked due to the time difference and their conflicting schedules, but they made it work as best as they could and when Jamie returned home in the summer things were the same as they’d always been, the only difference being the fire that had started off as a flicker in his stomach had taken to consuming his whole body and the urge to pull her body against his and kiss her like he so badly wanted to was almost unbearable. The only thing that kept holding Jamie back was the same thing that he wanted most in the whole world. He found himself coming back to Tyler’s words over and over again, chewing over them like a starving dog with a bone and resigning himself to a lifetime of purgatory because the thought of losing Leo completely cut deeper than the thought of never having her in the way that he longed for the most.

Leo, meanwhile, was struggling more than she would have ever admitted to Jamie. The schedule of her job and how it wouldn’t quite mesh with Jamie’s, despite her best efforts, was beginning to weigh heavy and she surprised herself, if she gave it a second thought, with how much her mood would tank if she didn’t get to speak to Jamie. She knew she shouldn’t have let it bother her because not only did that make it sound like she was incredibly dependant on him (which wasn’t the case at all) it also made her sound a little bit possessive and she wasn’t okay with that, not least because Jamie’s wasn’t hers in the first place and because it was a trait and a behaviour that didn’t sit right with her. Jamie was his own person, after all, with his own life and his own wants and desires and she had no right to lay claim on him just because of some childish though process such as ‘he was mine first’. The loneliness was crippling though and the first time Jamie had told her that he wouldn’t be able to Skype because he was going on a date, Leo had to swallow down the ball of emotion in her throat that she hadn’t expected. She tried to tell herself that this was a good thing for Jamie, that he deserved this and that it was going to happen eventually because Jamie was all the good things in the world and it was only a matter of time before he found himself a nice girl, but she couldn’t help but feel like she couldn’t breathe every time she thought of Jamie with someone else. It wasn’t fair though, on either of them, because they were just friends, that’s all and if Jamie was dating then maybe she should too.

 It was just before Christmas in 2017 when Jamie found himself packing up his life in Dallas and moving the 1200-plus miles east to Pittsburgh. Trades were never easy but he kept reminding himself that it was part of the job and at least he would be closer to Toronto, his family and Leo. He’d not long sat down in his new apartment, an opened bottle of beer on the coffee table and a pizza on the way. He knew it wasn’t exactly a nutritionist’s dream but after spending the best part of his day unpacking his life into a space that was still too clinical to really feel like home (and he knew needed Leo’s touch), he wanted something easy and cooking a healthy, balanced meal wasn’t it. It was getting on for 10:30 at night and while there was a huge part of him that wanted to be selfish and call Leo, especially now that they were on the same time zone, he also knew that she needed to be at the museum early tomorrow and would already be asleep, so he took to scrolling through Instagram instead. It wasn’t something he did very often and he wasn’t one to post anything on there himself, but Leo used it quite frequently and in a moment where he found himself missing her, it would be a decent enough substitute until he could call her the next day.

He wasn’t sure why he was so taken aback by her latest post, maybe it was because she hadn’t ever mentioned anything to Jamie, but the sight of Leo wrapped in the arms of a man who had his lips pressed into her hair had jarred him and now that the initial shock had worn off, he felt his free palm begin to hurt from where his fist had become so tightly balled that his nails were digging into the flesh there. Jamie noticed that she’d tagged the mystery guy in the post and so, despite his better judgment, he clicked on the handle and followed it to the profile. He was called Ben, Jamie learned, and he was annoyingly good looking but the thing that had Jamie’s heart hammering as the anger began to pool in his stomach was the fact that Ben had more than one photo of Leo on his profile and there was a recurring theme with each of the captions on these photos that had Jamie’s jaw clenching: ‘my girl’. Jamie locked his phone screen and sat gripping the device in his hand for a few moments while his teeth pressed tighter and tighter together. He sniffled slightly before squashing that emotion right back down and slamming his phone down onto the coffee table. He’d taken to pacing around the open plan living area and tearing his hands through his hair while he tried to get control of the breathing that was getting a little wild and a little ragged.

They’re just friends. He knew that. They’d ever been anything more and he’d never told her that he wanted them to be anything more, not explicitly anyway, but Jamie’s heart felt like it had been stuffed into a vice and now someone, Ben, was turning the handle and crushing it into a broken and bloody mess. Jamie cursed loudly into the room and resisted the urge to put a fist shaped hole into the drywall. He had no one else to blame but himself, of course, and he knew deep down that he shouldn’t have expected a girl like Leo to stay single and wait indefinitely for him because she was sharp, beautifully wild with a mind that was her own and a smile that had lit up Jamie’s whole world since they were four years old, any man would be mad not to fall for her. But he’d been right there in front of her for over twenty years, he’d been the one to wipe her tears away, he’d been the one to help her fix shelves up in her new apartment, he’d been the one she called at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep. He had been all of those things and he had been loving her for all that time and yet she didn’t see him. Maybe Tyler was right, maybe he was so deep in the friend-zone that there was no way out of it because right now Jamie was up to his neck in it and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

What he didn’t understand though and perhaps the thing that had irked him the most about this was the fact that Leo had never mentioned that she was seeing anybody. Not once. Jamie knew that she’d been going on dates and while that thought had made his chest ache a little, he also knew that she wasn’t his and that she was only doing the same thing he was but now that he thought about it, she hadn’t mentioned going on a date for a good couple of months and now that he’d seen that photo, he understood why. So why hadn’t she told him that she was seeing this guy? Especially if it had been going on for a couple of months now. He grabbed his beer and drained it before dragging his weary body to bed and drifting into an uneasy sleep.

Jamie awoke to a text from Leo but he didn’t bother to read it. He was still too keyed up from the night before and he needed to get his focus on hockey while he got himself ready to head to practice. He’d be playing in his first game as a Penguin on home ice that night and he wanted to make sure that he gave it his all and made a good first impression. His time in Dallas had been plagued with inconsistency, healthy scratches and yo-yoing between the minors and the big league and he didn’t want to put himself back into a situation where he didn’t know if a mistake on the ice was going to have him sitting in a press-box for two or three games. His first practice went as well as Jamie could’ve hoped it would and he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded him when he was made to feel welcome and like he’d always been a part of that group. Leo had always talked about the magic of new beginnings but it was never something that Jamie had ever experienced for himself but as he sat in his new stall before his first game as a Pittsburgh Penguin, Jamie couldn’t help but feel the spark of electricity that he was sure was what Leo had meant.

He was sprawled out on his couch watching TV when Leo had called him. There was a part of him that wanted to let the call go to voicemail but he knew that wasn’t fair because for all he was mad that she hadn’t told him about her new boyfriend, he also knew that it was her prerogative and it was, quite frankly, none of his business and he needed to get over whatever this was, no matter how hard it might be.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Leo said excitedly. “Oh my god! I watched your first game, you were amazing! Do you love it? Is everyone nice? What’s your apartment like?”

Jamie couldn’t help the soft chuckle that floated past his lips at her animated tone and barrage of questions.

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“What’s it like? Pittsburgh?”

“I’ve only been here a day, Leo. I literally went from my apartment to practice, back to my apartment and then to the rink for the game.”

Although Jamie couldn’t see her, Leo furrowed her brows at the hint of an edge in his tone and while she could’ve easily played it off as him just being tired, given that he’d uprooted his life and moved halfway across a country to then play a game of hockey, she knew him better than that and so, never one to beat around the bush, she figured she’d just get to the point.

“Is everything okay, Jame? You seem… I don’t know, you seem off.”

“I’m fine, Leo,” Jamie replied with a sigh. “Just tired.”

“Please,” Leo said with such a softness that it made Jamie’s throat tighten. “Please don’t lie to me, Jamie. We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Jamie exhaled slowly at that, a settling breath to give him time to gather his thoughts and composure.

“I just,” he began, voice controlled and measured but quiet. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that you had a boyfriend.”

“I don-“

“Don’t lie to me, Leo,” Jamie said, tone a little harsher and throwing her own words back at her. “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Leo bit her lip and exhaled shakily. Even through the phone she could picture the hurt and disappointment on Jamie’s face and while she knew that she should have told him, she also didn’t really have a good enough reason for not doing so and somehow that was worse.

“I didn’t,” she started, still unsure what to say even as the words were coming out of her mouth because there were still the reasons as to why she didn’t say anything that she still didn’t really understand herself. “I didn’t know if it was anything serious and I guess I just wanted to be sure.”

“You waited a whole two months.”

“I- wait, how did you know we’d been dating for two months?” Leo challenged.

“Irrelevant,” Jamie shot back.

“It’s absolutely not irrelevant. You didn’t even know I was seeing anyone before that post I made yesterday let alone that it’d been two months. What? Are you stalking him now?”

“It’s not stalking if his profile is public,” Jamie defended earning him nothing but a scoff from Leo. “Besides, not like I was gonna find out from you any time soon, maybe once the wedding invitation came through the mail.”

“Oh don’t be so fucking ridiculous, Jamie,” Leo scorned. “You know it’s not like that.”

“So what is it like? I’m dying to know.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! I was going to tell you but I figured I’d let you get settled in Pittsburgh and get your first game under your belt and I haven’t told you before now because I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t more than just a couple of dates. It really doesn’t have to be a big deal, Jamie.”

“If it wasn’t such a big deal you wouldn’t have been so bothered about waiting for me to ‘get settled.’” He emphasised her words as he quoted them back to her but his tone was little more than a frustrated growl. He knew this was a stupid thing for them to be fighting about and he knew that she didn’t owe him a thing but it was easier to channel the hurt it brought him than confront the overwhelming jealousy that was crushing him.

Leo was done with this argument though and she didn’t like the way her whole body felt like it was aching at the sound of Jamie’s voice through the phone so she did the only thing she felt like she could do in the moment.

“I’m sorry, Jame. I-I really didn’t think it was-.” She trailed off quietly, for once in her life at a loss for words. “I think I’m just gonna go, you must be exhausted.”

“Don’t,” Jamie pleaded, voice small and quiet and full of regret at snapping at the person he cared about most in the world. “Please, don’t go. I-.” He exhaled slowly as he rubbed his free and across his face. “I’m sorry too. You’re right, it’s your business and you were gonna tell me when you were ready to. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Please don’t think I was hiding it from you,” Leo said, although in a few years’ time, when she looked back on all of this, she would realise that that was a lie.

“I know. I know you weren’t.”

There was a silence that fell between them, bigger than all the miles between them and filled to the brim with things unsaid but it only lasted a few beats before Jamie’s big exhale swept it away with his breath before he spoke quietly.

“He good to you?”

“Yeah, Jame. He’s a really great guy, I think you’d really like him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Leo murmured. “When you’re back in the summer we should get drinks or something.”

“Sounds good, Leo,” Jamie said under his breath. “I should probably head to bed, I’m beat and it’s gettin’ late for you too.”

“Okay,” she replied sadly. “We’ll talk tomorrow though, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

Jamie and Leo did in fact talk the next day and the day after that, but despite the apology they’d both made and despite the fact that they had put their little spat to bed, there was far too much sitting there between them unsaid. It was like litter on the ground at a place of outstanding natural beauty, you could still admire the beauty of the trees or the mountains or the winding river, but the piles of rubbish collecting on the floor were glaring and impossible to ignore and you’d find yourself wanting to go over and pick it all up. Nobody wants to look at trash though, not when there’s still rivers and trees and mountains and so Leo and Jamie found themselves ignoring everything that now sat between them and instead kept looking at the beautiful things in their lives. They were busy enough to keep distracted, Leo more so now that she had Ben in her life and before long winter and spring were a whisper of a memory and summer announced her presence in the city with sunnier days and warmer temperatures.

 It was the first time in his life that Jamie wasn’t filled with the usual excitement at going back home, that’s not to say that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing his family, his friends and Leo, but there was something that just didn’t quite feel the same and while he knew exactly what that was, there was no point dragging it back up and flogging it some more. Leo was still with Ben and that was all there was to it. He’d seen Leo a few times since he’d come back home but she was often tied up with work, no longer benefitting from the long summers off she had when she was at college, and the free time she would’ve had before was no longer exclusively Jamie’s. He tried hard not to let himself be hurt with the change in dynamic and instead took the opportunity to spend quality time with his siblings. The idea of getting a drink with Leo and Ben wasn’t one that filled Jamie with any amount of joy, but a promise was a promise and Leo was still the most important person in his life, even if he was no longer hers and he wouldn’t ever go back on his word.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect but he also wanted to give himself an easy out if he felt like he needed it so he decided that he was just going to have the one beer so that he could drive himself there and home again. Whether it was subconscious or not, it took Jamie longer than usual to get ready and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the balmy Toronto heat that had him feeling sweatier than he would’ve liked but he eventually slipped on a pair of converse to complete his shorts and t-shirt ensemble and was in the elevator down to the garage, the keys to his truck gripped tightly in his hand.

Leo was already at the cocktail bar when he arrived, perched on a barstool at a little round table. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she always managed to make look effortless and Jamie had to make a conscious effort to swallow as his eyes took in her sun-kissed skin and the strappy sundress she was wearing. He should have expected her to look gorgeous, of course, because it was Leo and she always looked so effortlessly beautiful but it didn’t make knowing that she was here with someone else and not him hurt any less. He couldn’t blame her though, not really, because for all there was so much between them now that it should’ve been obvious, he still hadn’t outright said it or even talked to her about it and that was on him and him alone. He approached the table where she was sitting alone and looked around the bar for the man he’d only ever seen photos of.

“Hey,” she called out with the smile that always made Jamie’s heart leap up into his throat. “You made it.”

“Said I would,” Jamie replied, hugging her on the barstool and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “You look, you look good.”

“Thanks,” grinned Leo. “So do you, very festive. Ben’s just headed to the bar, do you want anything?”

“I’ve got mine, thanks though,” Jamie half-gritted as he made his way to the bar.

He could do this, he could. It was just one drink. He could manage that, right? Because that’s what friends did, they went out for drinks together and so Jamie resolved to put on his best smile as he walked back to the table, where Ben had now situated himself next to Leo, with his beer in hand. Ben was shorter than he was, Jamie noted, and he was definitely on the slighter side but still incredibly handsome with dark brown eyes that seemed to be in a state of perpetual kindness, short and neatly maintained stubble and hair that was darker than Leo’s which he’d secured in a bun at the back of his head. He was nothing like Jamie which should have made him feel better, knowing that if this was Leo’s type then it was no wonder she didn’t see him in that way, but it didn’t, it just made everything feel that little bit worse. He gave them both a tight lipped smile, all he could manage in the moment, as he sidled onto a barstool directly opposite Leo and took an obligatory sip of his beer before offering Ben his hand.

“Jamie”

Ben shook Jamie’s outstretched hand and Jamie was sure to give him a firm and not threatening at all handshake.

“Nice to meet you man,” Ben said with an accent Jamie recognised immediately as either Australian or New Zealander and he tried not to wince at the force with which the giant man was shaking his hand with. “I’m Ben.”

“Good to meet you, Ben. Nice to see you’re taking good care of my girl.”

Jamie knew that his remark would earn him a pointed glare and he was dead right because without even looking at her he could feel Leo’s eyes were boring into the side of his head.

“Yeah,” Ben laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“She really is. She tell you we’ve been friends for over twenty years?”

“Yeah, I did,” Leo cut in, giving Jamie a warning look. “Ben knows all about you.”

“That’s good,” Jamie mused as he took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, Leo and I? We go way back.”

Jamie put his beer down and stretched his shoulders back, somehow managing to make himself look even broader than usual and watched Ben closely, his blue eyes piercing. Leo rolled her eyes to herself and took a large gulp of her mai tai, if Jamie was going to act like a macho teenage boy then she was going to need to be at least three drinks in for this.

“You were four, right?” Ben asked nobody in particular.

“Yup,” Jamie replied, popping the ‘p’ as he looked at Leo. “Shared my strawberries with her and everything.”

Leo gave Jamie as inconspicuous of a kick as she could manage under the table and shot him a murderous look. She didn’t quite know at what point her best friend had been possessed by the ghost of Bro-mas past or why he was acting in such an insane and ridiculous way but the man opposite her wasn’t the Jamie she knew and to be quite honest, she wasn’t sure that she liked him. Jamie paid her no mind though, his focus remained fixed on the man to Leo’s left as a cocky smirk played on his lips.

“So, Ben,” he folded his arms tight across his chest, his biceps straining against the white fabric of his t-shirt. “What do you do?”

Ben sat up straighter on his stool, whether that was to try and subconsciously match Jamie’s macho-man aura or whether it was to try and instil some confidence in himself Leo couldn’t quite tell but she kept her eyes keen on Jamie and tried to engage whatever best-friend telepathy she could to tell him to knock it off.

“I’m a veterinarian.”

Jamie gave a tight lipped smile, not because there was anything wrong with being a veterinarian, quite the opposite actually. He gave a tight lipped smile because it meant that the man sat beside the girl he loved more than anything else in this world was smart and compassionate and successful and good for her. Those three words had him feeling more inadequate than he could ever truly express and he knew in that moment that there was no point even trying anymore because Ben could give her more than he ever could, intellectually and emotionally, although it still did nothing to abate the raging jealously that was running rampant through his body.

“Leo told me you’re a pro-athlete?”

Jamie was pulled by his thoughts by Ben’s question, an interested and expectant look on his features and Jamie felt the need to take a couple of gulps of his drink before he could answer.

“Yeah, play hockey in the NHL for the Dallas Stars.”

“Not the Maple Leafs then?”

Even though Jamie knew that Ben’s question was innocent enough, he couldn’t help the scoff or the mildly withering look he sent across the table despite the fact that he could feel Leo practically fizzing with annoyance.

“No, bud. It doesn’t work like that.”

Jamie started to look around the bar, clearly done with the conversation and Leo had to fight to keep her tone even and calm.

“Ben doesn’t really know much about the draft and stuff, he’s not from here, grew up in Sydney.”

“I figured,” Jamie said, clearly disinterested. “Still, pretty bold move to live in a city like Toronto and not know about hockey.”

“He knows about hockey,” Leo shot back. “He doesn’t need to know about the draft and how it all works to know about hockey.”

“Who’s your favourite player in the league, bud?” Jamie asked Ben, ignoring Leo completely and with an air of cockiness that had her blood boiling.

“I uh, I don’t really follow it all that much,” Ben replied as he shifted uncomfortably on his barstool which put a smug little smile on Jamie’s face that he didn’t even try to hide.

“You should,” Jamie said as he brought his beer back up to his lips and took a small sip, setting it down on the table with more force than was necessary. “Ask Leo here, she knows what’s up.”

His eyes met Leo’s and instead of the temperate green waters he would usually find there he was met by a roaring flame and if looks could kill, Jamie knew he’d be dead three times over. Still, he swallowed down his pride and as much of his jealousy as he could while he changed the subject and asked Ben about Sydney and what growing up in Australia was like because while he hated every bit of this and while he wanted to walk right out of this bar and go home to mope, he knew how important this was to Leo and how much it would mean to her if Jamie got along with him. Jamie nodded along as Ben talked about his childhood and Sydney and gave a strained smile when he felt like social cues dictated it, all while sneaking glances at the watch on his wrist to see if enough time had passed for him to leave without it seeming rude. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ben, because no matter how much he wanted to hate the guy, even Jamie couldn’t deny that Ben seemed like a good man, with good priorities and a good upbringing, it was just that he wasn’t mature enough to set his jealousy aside so that he could be a good friend to Leo. But as he saw the smile on her face at the sight of her best friend and her boyfriend somewhat getting along, he resolved to at least keep trying, if only for her.

He’d learned that Ben had taken an interest in baseball since moving to Canada and while he couldn’t understand how he’d found baseball before hockey, he still made small talk about the Blue Jays and how their season was going so far. One thing that Jamie both appreciated and found incredibly painful all at the same time was the way that Ben talked about Leo like she was the sun, the moon and the stars and even though he tried to be strong and try not to let the fact that she was here with someone else and was happy bother him, because he loved Leo and he only ever wanted good things for her and it was what she deserved, after nursing his beer for a shade over two hours, Jamie decided that he couldn’t do it anymore and stepped down off his stool, ceremoniously taking his truck keys from out of his pocket.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up but I gotta head out, Penny has a swimming thing in the morning and I said I’d go watch.”

“Wait, you never told me Penny had a thing. You know I would’ve come along,” Leo said with her brows furrowed.

“Yeah, well I figured you’d be busy.”

“You would have known if I was busy or not if you’d bothered to ask me in the first place,” she shot back, giving Jamie a pointed look that told him she didn’t buy any of his bullshit.

Jamie shook his head, a wordless indication that he wasn’t prepared to get into it with her right now and simply said, “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, Leo, yeah? And it was really great to meet you Ben.”

He didn’t even give either of them chance to respond because no sooner were the words out of his mouth, he’d turned on his heel and was striding towards the door.

It wasn’t too long before Leo was letting herself, and only herself, into her apartment. She hadn’t planned to spend the night here, as Ben’s place was a lot closer to the bar they’d been to, but after the little stunt Jamie pulled she felt like she needed to be alone in her own space despite Ben’s best efforts to come home with her. She poured herself a large glass of wine and went to settle herself on the balcony to enjoy the last few moments of the quickly fading light and try to calm down. As she looked out across the small park opposite her apartment and swirled the wine around her glass she thought about what had happened with Jamie and tried to pinpoint at what point it had gone wrong. She wondered if maybe Ben had said something to get Jamie’s back up but as she replayed their interaction over and over again, she kept drawing blanks and that bothered her greatly. You see, Jamie’s whole demeanour was so unbelievably out of character for him and he’d been on the offensive from the get go and Leo couldn’t for the life of her understand why he would agree to meet Ben if he had such a problem. The more she allowed herself to stew over it, the angrier she got and, perhaps against her better judgement, she found herself reaching for her phone and scrolling through her contacts until she reached Jamie’s number.

She wasn’t sure what she would achieve by pressing the call button but if there was something going on with him she was determined to get it out of him one way or another. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he would even pick up the phone, but sure enough after fifteen seconds or so, Jamie’s voice came through the speaker, rough and raw.

“Leo, I don’t wanna-“

“What’s going on with you?” she interrupted. “You agree to come out with us and then spend the first fifteen minutes being rude, stand-offish and doing some sort of weird macho routine like you’d been possessed by Johnny Bravo and then once you were finished doing that you were disinterested and cold for the rest of the time. Oh and don’t think I didn’t see through your little ‘Penny has a thing’ bit. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jamie.”

“Penny does have a-“

“Don’t lie to me, Jamie,” she spat bitterly. “Don’t.”

“God, you want me to explain and then don’t let me finish! Jesus, Leo!”

“And I don’t want you to insult me by feeding me some bullshit line and using your sister as an excuse to leave early but you tried to anyway! If you didn’t want to hang out with me you should’ve just said.”

The hurt that dripped from Leo’s voice was like a kick in the stomach to Jamie. His heart was screaming at him to tell her everything, to tell her than he loved hanging out with her, tell her that she wasn’t the problem, that she never was, to tell her that he loved her, that he was being stupid and childish and that he couldn’t bear the thought of her with another man, not when she had his whole heart. But his head was gagging his heart, silencing it until it was nothing more than a muffled cry, muted and abstract behind thick walls and yet, despite its conquest of impassioned subjugation, his head didn’t actually have anything to say and so he sat there, floundering in silence while Leo grew more impatient at the other end of the phone.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” and while she spoke quietly, there was a very distinct edge to her tone. “I thought that you’d want me to find someone, someone who could look out for me while you were gone and make me laugh like you do and it’s not like you’ve been sat at home alone every night, Jamie. I know you’ve been on dates and stuff and that’s good, I want you to go on dates and find someone and be happy because you’re, because you’re my friend and I want you to have someone and not feel like you’re alone. God, I was so lonely when you left, Jame and I don’t blame you for that. I’ve never blamed you because you were too good to stay. You had too much potential and you had to find your wings and you did and I am so, so proud of you. So fucking proud. I spend my life telling anyone who’ll fucking listen to me how proud I am of you. I cry myself hollow every single time you leave, it never gets any easier and from the second you leave I’m already counting down the days until you’re back, because you’re my favourite person, Jamie. You’ve always been my favourite person.”

Jamie sniffled quietly as he heard Leo’s soft cries filter through the speaker, dragging his hand through his hair in frustration because he knew she felt it too, all she had to do was say it out loud and it was so close that all she had to do was reach out to it.

“And I want you to be happy too,” Leo continued. “I want you to be so happy. Maybe we’ve been a part of each other for so long that we don’t know how to just be us on our own. Maybe we need to discover who we actually are because for our whole lives it’s been Jamie and Leo and maybe you need to learn how to just be Jamie and maybe I need to learn how to just be Leo.”

Jamie wiped at his eyes as the first of his tears began to fall and his heart shattered into a million little pieces. This is what it was like to blow it, to lose someone you loved. This is what it was like to have your whole world come crashing down because it felt like everything he ever known was shrinking into darkness and that he couldn’t breathe.

“Leo,” he pleaded but with no real words to follow up with. “Please.”

“I think,” Leo choked out as her sobs came harder as the words she never wanted to say sat high in her throat because while she was mad at him for how he’d acted earlier, he was still her Jamie and she still loved him more than anything. But sometimes people who love each other need some time apart to think and to grow and that is what had her saying, “I think we need to give each other some space.”

“No, Leo. Please. Please, babe. Don’t say that. I know I was an asshole tonight and-.”

“We need this Jamie, we do. I need this, because this, this fighting and hostility and all of this weirdness, it’s not us. It’s never been us. Please.”

Jamie sat on his couch stunned, the weight of her words echoing around him after she’d spoke them through the phone. This was everything he’d ever feared and now that it was really happening he didn’t even know how to begin to deal with that. You can hypothesise and spend your time thinking up all of these scenarios and everything you would say, how’d you deal with them, but nothing, nothing, can ever prepare you for the real thing and Jamie understood that now because it felt like his head was spinning and he couldn’t quite organise his thoughts.

“Jamie?”

Her quiet voice pulled him out from the depths of his own head and he gave a strangled ‘yeah’ in response.

“I just think we need some time,” she whispered, the tears threatening once more.

Jamie honestly didn’t know what else to say to her and the ‘okay’ he gave was so quiet and so abstract that he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that he’d actually said it, he must have done though because the line went dead and Jamie was left sitting in the pieces of his shattered heart.

 Jamie couldn’t remember how long he’d cried for, he wasn’t even sure how many days he’d stayed locked inside his apartment before he felt strong enough to put on a brave face and eventually go outside. He knew that he only had himself to blame though, that he should’ve told her years ago that it was her and that she was it for him and now, because of his own stupidity, his own jealousy, he’d only succeeded in pushing her away and he wasn’t sure how he could fix this or if he could even fit it at all. It was a strange feeling, being in the same city as someone and yet feeling like they were a million miles away, it was even harder having to dodge questions from his family about how Leo was doing and what they’d been up to and even though he was certain that his mother could see straight through his lies, he was thankful that she could at least sense that this was something he didn’t want her to prod him about. For the first time in his professional playing career, Jamie made the decision to leave Toronto early and head back to Pittsburgh before the start of training camp, citing a desire to get a head start and get back in shape ready for the season ahead and while his parents found it all to be rather odd, Jamie did his best to assure them that everything was fine and that he’d see them the next time the Penguins played the Leafs in Toronto at Christmastime.

Leo wasn’t doing much better, despite whatever front she’d put up to try and convince herself and everybody else. She’d cried until she was nothing but a shell, figuring that the best thing to do was just to get it all out of her system so that she could look to put it all behind her and move on but stumbling every single time whenever she remembered that he’d called her ‘babe’, because that was new and she didn’t fully understand what exactly that had meant and why it made her heart leap into her throat every time she thought of the word rolling around on his tongue. To make matters worse, the day after she pushed Jamie away for some self-imposed space, Ben had stopped by her apartment, naturally concerned after she’d ignored all of his calls – not that it was anything personal, she’d been ignoring everyone.

He’d told her that he thought Jamie was in love with her and he also told her that he thought she loved Jamie too, like it was that simple and while Leo tried her best to assure him that her and Jamie were just friends, he wasn’t about to be convinced. Make no mistake, it wasn’t as if Ben was accusatory in anyway, in fact Leo would’ve preferred it if he was, because he was looking at her with far too much understanding and kindness than she was sure she deserved. She found it admirable really, how he was able to be so mature about it all and it just proved to her how childishly she had handled everything and just how blind to everything she’d been. The words Ben had left her with were ones that she’d meditate on for weeks, months even. He’d said, ‘I think you need to talk to Jamie, really talk to him. You both need to sit down and look at every single thing between you both because it’s all there, the love, the spark between you two. I’d never even met the guy before but I could just feel it between you guys as soon as you looked at each other. I saw the way he looked at you when he walked into that bar, he looked at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky. That’s love, Leo and I know that deep down you feel that way too. If after you’ve done that you can still look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you don’t love him and that there’s nothing there then I’ll be here waiting and we can give this a shot, but I think you need to really think about what you want.’

It seemed like such a simple thing on paper, working out what she really wanted, but the reality of it all was that Leo wasn’t exactly sure what that looked like. One thing was clear though, without Jamie in her life she was miserable, but this had been her idea and she knew that it’d been one that had broken his heart and to slink back to him so soon, with her tail between her legs after knowing she’d hurt him by pushing him away, was too much for her silly little pride to handle. She told herself that she would call him, that she would reach out and apologise, but with every day that slipped by it felt like the space between them grew tenfold and something as simple as a phone call felt like it was as hard as climbing Everest.

Jamie had hoped that getting back to Dallas would take his mind off Leo, the sprawling void between them and his feelings for her, and he’d tried, he’d really honestly tried, even going so far as signing up to dating apps to try and drown her out that way, but it was useless. Leo was everywhere and nowhere all at once and Jamie felt like he was floating in outer space, surrounded by dust and emptiness when all he wanted was to feel like he was home; but as each day passed without any contact from her, the more lost Jamie felt and he was terrified that he’d never be found and that he’d be floating around in the nothingness forevermore.

 The months fell away much like the russet leaves of fall and Christmas was suddenly only a whisper away. Jamie had made preparations to stay in Toronto following the Penguins’ matinee game against the Leafs on December 23rd and would fly back into Pennsylvania the day after Christmas ready for his first game after the holiday on December 27th. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been able to enjoy Christmas at home with his family since turning pro and even though his return to Toronto would bring him closer to Leo and while there was still a lot of uncertainty between them both given that they hadn’t actually spoken since August, he was looking forward to being able to unwind for a few days before the second push of the season began. He hadn’t told Leo that his plans would bring him back to the city but she’d figured as much when she’d discovered that the last game the Leafs would play before Christmas would be against Pittsburgh and she knew he would be staying once she realised Pittsburgh’s next game wasn’t for another few days.

She knew that she should reach out while he was home, not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because she hadn’t actually told her parents that she’d not spoken a word to him in the last four months and it would look incredibly weird if she didn’t see him at least once while he was back in town. There were a number of reasons why she’d not said anything about the spat that she’d had with Jamie, the main one being because it would open a whole can of worms that she absolutely did not want opening, it would open her up to questions from her parents and they were questions that she didn’t want to face and didn’t really have answers for. The reason she didn’t have answers to those questions was because while she’d finally accepted that Jamie wasn’t just a friend, she also knew that she’d blown any real chance with him because of the way she’d acted so it was far easier to maintain that air of indifference and pretend like there was nothing there so that she didn’t have to deal with the reality that she’d ruined everything with her own stupidity.

She’d toyed with the idea of sending him a quick text message to check in, but after everything they’d been through it seemed a little bit impersonal, although it didn’t have her picking up the phone either. She’d wondered if Jamie would even want to see her while he was home for those few days over the holidays, after all, for all she’d been the one to impose their time apart, he hadn’t exactly reached out to her. What did she expect though? She knew deep down Jamie was always going to respect her wishes, even if they broke his heart, but it was easier to ignore that and instead fester in her own misery.

The decision on whether or not to see Jamie was made for her though, with her mother telling her that the Oleksiaks thought it would be nice for them all to get together before Christmas and that arrangements had been made for them to all attend the game followed by dinner at The Butcher Chef. Leo couldn’t help but be a little bit surprised at this, considering how awful she’d been to Jamie and she was shocked that his family would want to spend more than a second with her, which could only lead her to believe that Jamie had deployed the same tactic of silence with his parents as she had done with her own. It should have been funny, how similar they were, but it was that similarity that had dropped them into this mess in the first place. If only one of them had been mature enough to look at all that there was between them and take that leap of faith, perhaps she’d be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Jamie instead of that sickening anxious feeling that knotted her stomach. It was ironic, she thought, how Jamie had always thought of her as being brave because right now, as she looked back on her behaviour and how she’d handled it all, she’d been anything but.

Leo was more than a little relieved to discover that they’d be meeting the Oleksiaks inside of Scotiabank Area because it meant that Jamie wouldn’t be with them and she could at least catch up with Richard, Alison, Hayley and Penny without any massive amounts of awkwardness. She could play off her recent and sudden distance on work being crazy and hopefully, just hopefully, by the end of the game she’d be feeling relaxed enough that seeing Jamie wouldn’t be the big deal she’d made it out to be in her head. As she took her seat in the stands she found herself sandwiched between her mother and Penny, the youngest Oleksiak. Leo had always loved Jamie’s sisters, especially Penny, seeing a lot of herself in the younger girl and they’d always been partners in crime when it came to winding Jamie up. They’d talked about Penny’s swimming and how she’d been and the thundering in Leo’s chest had begun to settle somewhat until Penny had mentioned how down Jamie had seemed the last time they’d talked and that she hoped Leo could give him one of her world-famous pep talks to snap him out of his funk. If Penny had felt Leo stiffen beside her at that, she mercifully didn’t say anything and continued to watch the game. Leo couldn’t focus though, not when the guilt had suddenly jumped up from where she’d shoved it deep down into her stomach and now felt like it had lodged itself within her windpipe. She had taken to focusing on the game clock, counting along with the numbers until she could push through the tightening in her chest and set her features into something that was a bit more neutral instead of the tight-lipped grimace she was wearing. Leo was thankful that the game on the ice was end-to-end because no one had seemed to notice the turmoil she found herself in and no questions were asked.

Leo declined the invitation from Alison and Richard to go down with them to wait for Jamie to come out of the locker room, simply stating that she would keep her parents company and wait with them upstairs and was relieved when they didn’t press the issue or make insistences. It was around forty minutes later when she saw the tall figure of Jamie’s dad appear in the foyer, Alison and the girls close behind with Jamie bringing up the rear. It was like one of those cliché romance movie moments, where two people find each other’s eyes across a crowded room and it feels like the whole world stops spinning, except most of the people had filtered out of the stadium by now and the space between them felt so vast that it would take lightyears to cross.

He was cautious, Leo noticed, but his eyes were just as soft as they’d always been as they took her in. She looked good, Jamie thought, but there was a sadness in her smile and the spark he’d always associated with her was barely there. He wanted so desperately to pull her tight against his chest and tell her that he was sorry over and over again until he was sure that she believed him, but this wasn’t the time nor the place so he settled for an awkward wave and a ‘hey’ that sounded too nervous and too hesitant to be greeting an old friend with, instantly regretting it when he saw the tight-lipped smile and too formal ‘hello’ that she gave in reply. Their parents exchanged a serious of glances that ranged from confusion to concern but much to Leo and Jamie’s reprieve, Alison simply clapped her hands together and remarked how lovely it was that everyone was back together again. Leo made sure to stick close to her parents during the short walk to the restaurant because while she wasn’t certain that Jamie would try to address the weirdness between them and while she also knew that it was a conversation that they absolutely needed to have, she wasn’t sure that a five minute walk within earshot of their families was the best time.

An awkward exchange at the door to the restaurant, where the two of them spent a good twenty seconds inviting each other to go in ahead, earned the pair strange looks from their parents and Penny had uttered ‘weirdos’ as she side-eyed them while they were all escorted to their table. The fact that they’d purposefully chosen seats as far away from each other as possible raised their fathers’ eyebrows while Alison and Diana shared a worried glance. Penny was giving her brother a pointed look from behind her menu before flicking her gaze across to Leo, who was studying the wine list as if it were written in hieroglyphics, and back to Jamie, who could only respond with a pleading look and a shake of his head. When the order was taken Jamie couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the prawn, avocado and chilli bruschetta Leo had picked for her appetizer. For as long as he’d known her they’d been united in their mutual hatred of the green pitted fruit and despite the fact that it was entirely plausible that her taste-buds had changed in the four months since they’d last spoken and despite it being something so incredibly small, and so incredibly innocuous, he couldn’t help but feel further away from her than ever before. The feeling only grew as he listened to her talk to his mother about what she’d been up to in her spare time, not even knowing that she’d taken up watercolour painting and had been to a belly-dancing taster class that she’d thoroughly enjoyed and was considering signing up to. It might have only been four months apart, but it might as well have been an entire lifetime that had passed and the ache in his chest made it impossible to focus on anything else other than the overwhelming sadness he felt at the recognition that everything had changed between them and that things would never be the same again.

The pair soldiered on through dinner, seeming to talk to everyone else but each other and while there was the occasional shared glance, it never lasted for any longer than a couple of seconds before one of them looked away and carried on like it had never even happened. It was all getting a bit much for Jamie, with the way that it felt like he was losing her with each second that passed and the way it felt like she was at the other side of the world and not at the other side of a table. He wanted to scream into that void, scream that this was all stupid, that he was sorry and that he missed her so much that he felt like he was going to die, but he didn’t. Instead he’d told Bill all about Pittsburgh and the season so far and made small talk about what kind of vehicle he should buy next. Leo found herself getting agitated at how forced it all felt, how uncomfortable she was and all she wanted was for dessert to be over so they could split the bill and say their goodbyes so that she could lock herself in her apartment and drown her despair in a bottle of wine. It killed her that the man she’d known from being a little boy, a man who knew her better than anyone else in the world, felt like a complete stranger, but above that, it killed her that this had been all of her own making. There was so much she should have done differently and even more that she should have said, but instead her own stupidity and stubbornness had pushed away the one thing in her life she wanted the most and she’d convinced herself that Jamie had only agreed to this and sorted tickets for the game tonight because he knew it would make his mother happy. That thought forced Leo to swallow down the emotion that sat high in her throat because it was just another reminder of every BBQ and every party the two families had ever shared together and how it all felt that little bit different now. Not only had she ruined things between her and Jamie, but she’d also managed to ruin things for everyone else too.

Not a moment too soon for Leo, the two families were paying the check and found themselves outside in the chilly evening air. Leo let herself be passed down the line of Oleksiaks for a goodbye hug, chastising herself each time for how stiff was but still not able to let herself relax despite the awareness, until she was confronted with Jamie’s large frame. She couldn’t not hug him with how it felt like all eyes were on them both and so she allowed herself to be pulled awkwardly into his body while her own was filled with tension that she was sure everyone could see but couldn’t help all the same.

“Goodnight,” Jamie mumbled. “Have a good Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Leo replied, voice robotic and distant as she pulled away a little too quickly. “You too.”

An awkward silence descended upon the group that had Jamie shifting uncomfortably and Leo drawing her coat tighter around her for reasons unrelated to the cold Toronto air. Leo could tell her mother was desperate to say something and she was praying to anyone who was listening that this would be one of those things that Diana would let slide without pressing further. Someone somewhere must have heard her silent pleas though because her mother said her goodbyes once more and wished Jamie a safe trip back to Pittsburgh before the trio headed back towards the car. Nobody spoke for a few beats as they settled into their seats and put on their belts but Leo knew that the barrage of incoming questions was imminent judging by the look in her father’s eye as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

“It’s nothing,” Leo mumbled as she adjusted her coat.

“Honey, that was about as far from nothing as you could get,” her mother replied as she turned in her seat to look at Leo. “I coulda cut the atmosphere between you two back there with a knife.”

“Honestly, mom, it’s nothing and I’d really rather not discuss it right-“

“Not an option,” her father cut in, a stern edge to his tone. “I’m pulling rank and I’m playing the ‘dad’ card here. What happened back there was painful to watch and it made dinner incredibly awkward so I’ll ask you again, what happened between you two?”

Leo exhaled into the darkness of the car as the city lights passed by outside, unsure where to even begin. She decided to lead with the obvious and hoped that the rest would follow.

“We fought,” she said matter-of-factly. “We had a stupid argument and we haven’t spoken since August.”

“Oh, Leonora,” her mother sighed. “What could the two of you have possibly fought over that stopped you from talking for four months?”

“Remember when I was dating Ben?”

Diana hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well, that night that Ben and I went out for drinks, the night before we broke up, we met up with Jamie and he was… he was kind of an asshole to Ben.”

Bill chuckled softly at that, a million miles away from the harshness of his tone not a few moments ago and shook his head which earned him a glare from Leo into the rearview mirror.

“Oh come on,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re a bright girl, Leo. You must have realised that he was acting out of jealousy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. Why the hell would Jamie be jealous of Ben?”

“For someone who is so incredibly smart you really are oblivious,” her mother replied with an exasperated sigh. “That boy is head over heels for you. Has been for years.”

“What? Don’t be insane!” Leo scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Jamie and I are-“

“Just friends,” Bill interrupted. “Sure ya are.”

“We are.”

Leo crossed her arms over her chest, not caring that it made her look like she’d regressed back into her teenage years, especially with the frustrated pout that had formed on her lips. Her father sighed in mild frustration, too full of food to have much patience for his daughter’s stubbornness.

“You’re just too stubborn to see anythin’ else. Talk some sense into her, Di, would ya?”

Diana surveyed Leo with a soft expression, perceptive enough to know that her daughter was struggling with some inner tumult but was too bull-headed to verbalise it and too proud to ask for help.

“Nora Noo,” she said softly to get Leo’s eyes on hers. “You must know by now that Jamie loves you,” Leo went to speak but Diana anticipated her protests and cut her off gently. “And not just as a friend. He loves you and I’d hazard a guess that you love him too.”

“He doesn’t love me, mom. We didn’t speak for four months.”

“And was that his idea?”

Leo looked away and her silence told her mother all she needed to know.

“I didn’t think so. Sounds to me like he was just giving you the space you asked for.”

“Why would you assume it was me who asked for space? I never said that,” Leo protested.

“You didn’t have to,” Diana countered, her eyes keen on Leo. “I know you well enough to know that you were clearly struggling with all these feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, you were mad at him and the easiest thing for you to do was push him away and because Jamie loves you so much, he respected your wishes, even though he’s quite clearly been struggling too.”

Leo didn’t have an answer to that because she knew that any words that came out of her mouth would’ve been a lie. Her mother had hit the nail on the head and she knew it too because while her eyes were still soft on Leo, there was the hint of a smirk on her lips and she knew she had her daughter stumped. She decided not to push the issue anymore though and shifted in her seat to face forwards again, leaving Leo sat in the back of the car, brows knitted together and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She didn’t speak another word until they pulled up outside of her apartment building and even then all she could manage was a subdued goodbye followed up with ‘see you both tomorrow.’

If Leo could’ve been a fly on the wall in the Oleksiaks’ car, she’d have laughed at the fact that Jamie was being subjected to a similar, if not identical, lecture from his parents as the one she’d received. They’d get a good kick out of the absurdity of it all later on when the dust had settled, but Jamie didn’t know that yet and his face was currently drawn in pensive thought while he mulled over his mother’s words that had scarily echoed Diana’s to Leo in their sentiments. He knew she was right, about all of it and the more he thought about it, the more he began to understand that this might be the only chance he had to make things right before Leo slipped away from him for good. It was that realization and that overwhelming fear of losing the one thing in his life he was sure of that had him asking his father to turn the car around and to take him to Leo’s apartment.

 The warm glow of the Christmas lights in Leo’s apartment would have ordinarily brought a smile to her face but she was too weary to fall for their charms tonight and it was the kind of weariness that she was sure couldn’t be fixed with sleep. Seeing Jamie tonight had made everything exponentially harder and only served as a painful and bitter reminder of just how bad she’d let things get between them. She should’ve reached out, she should’ve stared down everything that was right in front of her but she was too afraid to see and she should have said everything that she knew to be true in her heart and that Jamie deserved to hear. She wiped the makeup off her face angrily as she tried to supress a sniffle, a too-big Huskies sweatshirt that had belonged to Jamie hanging off her frame that served as a symbol of her wilful suffering. She knew that it wasn’t the best idea to try and numb the pain with a bottle of wine, but she didn’t know what else to do in the moment and so she collected the bottle of medicinal Riesling from the fridge, grabbed herself the biggest wine glass she owned and took them into her living room.

She was just about to bring the glass up to her lips when a loud and urgent knock at her door made her jump right out of her skin. She debated ignoring it but it became so insistent and unrelenting that she was worried the noise would disturb her neighbours and so she begrudgingly set her glass down before dragging her body from the couch and to the door. On the other side of it was a frantic looking Jamie, chest heaving from presumably taking the stairs and a slightly wild look in the usually calm ocean of his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his otherwise resolute delivery.

“You know you can,” Leo breathed as she moved out of the way to let him in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it as she watched him carefully.

The silence stretched between them, Leo waiting nervously for Jamie to speak while he took a few settling breaths. He knew that he had to get this right because he felt like one wrong word would lose him everything. It was the same reason why Leo maintained a tentative reticence.

A moment.

That was all it would take.

One moment that sat like a void and one moment that could change everything, whichever way it went. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waited for her to speak for what felt like forever while she stood on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth next would rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago, not that either of them wanted to go back to that.

Yes, it was moment that was terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it was theirs.

“What happened to us?” Jamie wondered aloud, breaking the deafening silence. “How the hell did we get to this?”

“You were the one who was an ass, Jamie, not me,” Leo shot back, perhaps angrier than was necessary given the fact that Jamie’s question wasn’t delivered accusingly. “I know I should’ve told you about Ben and I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings by not saying anything sooner but that toxic masculinity bullshit at the bar? Really?”

“You don’t fucking see it, do you?” Jamie laughed humourlessly, Leo’s tone causing a flicker of anger within his chest. “Even now, when I’m here right in front of you, you’re still too stubborn to see it or maybe you do see it but you just don’t have the balls to tell me that you don’t feel the same way.”

“Don’t you dare make assumptions about how I feel,” Leo snapped, the tears springing to her eyes in an instant. “Don’t you dare. You have no idea what these past four months-“

“Of course I do!” Jamie spat. “I’ve been living it every single day since you told me you needed space! I wake up and it hurts, I go to bed and it still fucking hurts. I felt like I was dying every single day. You wanted this and it fucking broke my heart, Leo, it broke my heart but I did it anyway because you asked me to and I would do anything for you, anything in the whole world and yet you couldn’t even be honest with yourself and see what was right in front of you.”

Leo’s heart splintered and cracked at the agony etched into Jamie’s features, agony that she knew she’d caused and she couldn’t stop the tears from breaking the dam she was precariously keeping them behind and surging forward as Jamie’s own silent tears slipped out onto his cheeks.

“All I wanted was for you to love me like I love you, Leo. That was it.”

Jamie’s broken voice pulled the sob from her lungs but even though it felt like she couldn’t breathe and even though she knew she’d made such a mess of things, she still managed to catch those three words and hang onto them like they were a life line that would keep her from drifting away into outer space. They were also the words that had her legs carrying her towards him, closing the distance and pushing everything that separated them to the side until she was pressed tightly against his chest with her arms tight around him.

“I do, Jamie,” she cried. “I do love you. I love you more than anything else in this world and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I pushed you away, that I ignored everything for so long. You’re my person, Jame, you always have been, ever since we were kids, long before I even understood what love was. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Jame.”

Jamie held her tightly within his arms, frightened that she might float away if he didn’t keep her steadfast against him and buried his face into her hair, his own quiet tears falling into the umber strands as he shushed her gently to quieten her cries.

“I’m sorry too, babe. I should have told you, I should have said something, I just didn’t know what to say and I was so scared that I’d lose you and then when I found out you were dating, I just, I hated the idea of you with anyone else and I know that was wrong and I know that I should’ve just told you how I was feeling but the thought of you not feeling the same way, God, it killed me.”

Leo lifted her head, the wet jungle of her eyes shining like the Amazon meeting the lagoon of his as her hand reached up to caress his strong jaw and Jamie nuzzled into the touch before he pressed a soft kiss to her palm, everything else melting away until it was just the feeling of her skin and the gentle press of her body against his.

“There’s no one else like you Jamieson Oleksiak,” she murmured softly as her thumb swept gently across his cheek. “No one.”

“I love you, Leo,” Jamie whispered, his eyes shining with tears before he slowly dipped his head down to bring his lips to hers and captured them in a tender kiss, their first kiss.

She melted into him instantly, her hands moving to the back of his neck while his found the backs of her thighs to lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist. He kissed her like he was suffocating and she was his oxygen, kissed her for every time he should’ve told her that he loved her and kissed her for every day that he should have already been kissing her and for everything Jamie was giving her, Leo gave it back tenfold. Their mouths moved together in a complete unity which betrayed the fact that they hadn’t already been doing this for years, each knowing what the other needed with each pass of their tongues and every pause for breath.

Leo’s fingers tangled themselves into Jamie’s short curls and the gentle tug she gave them earned her a deep groan and a flex of his palms against her thighs. It was instinctive, really, to carry her into her bedroom and though Leo should’ve felt anxious about sharing that final part of herself with Jamie, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to do. He removed her clothes carefully, almost dutifully, exalting her skin with his mouth like her body was a temple and every kiss was a holy offering. He learned her body like lyrics from his favourite song and remembered every sigh and every flex of her fingers against his skin whenever he did something that she liked until he was confident that he would be able recite it word for word if she asked him to. He’d never felt more at home than he did between her thighs with her arms wrapped around the broad expanse of his back and with every breath and every moan shared between them both, he knew with complete certainty that she was it for him and while he didn’t know the exact details of what their life together would look like, he also knew that it didn’t really matter as long as he had her.

They moved together between the sheets as sure and as steady as the falling snow outside, in their own world where nothing and no one could touch them and all that mattered was what they were giving to each other in that moment. Leo carved her name into Jamie’s skin as her nails raked across his shoulders, a wordless encouragement for more of him. She was cradled within his arms, safe and warm and home while his lips brushed along her jaw, whispers of love murmured into her skin with every breath he took. He quickened his pace as he sensed the wave begin to grow inside of her, swallowing her moans with a kiss when the wave finally broke against the shore and she tumbled over the edge. He stayed with her as she rode the crest of her orgasm, working her through it while he chased his own high.

“Fuck, Leo. I’m so close, babe,” he gritted, hips driving into hers.

“Let go, Jame…”

He kissed her roughly as his hips faltered, spilling inside of her with a low groan and shallow thrusts until he was spent. Leo’s lips brushed along his jaw, pressing kisses along the sharp angle of his face and against the shell of his ear.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, Jamie smiling against her neck before pulling out and rolling onto his back, nestling her into his side until she settled with her head against his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. He dropped his lips to press a kiss against her forehead, gentle and chaste and full of all the love her had for her while Leo’s fingers traced along his ribs, leaving a ripple of goose bumps in their wake.

They laid in silence for a while, limbs tangled in the sheets while the snow fell silently outside. It was a peace that reflected the one they both felt within their souls and Leo wasn’t sure she ever wanted to leave the solace and serenity of their cocoon, the steady thump of Jamie’s heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest had her in a trance-like state and it was Jamie’s soft chuckle that pulled her back to the present.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly into her hair.

“Yeah.” She shifted and propped herself up on her elbow so that she was looking at Jamie, smiling at the peaceful expression she found resting on his features. “Just happy.”

He reached out to cup the back of her head and pulled her in to place three gentle pecks to her lips, smiling against her mouth before he pulled away to look into her eyes and tuck the loose strands of her hair back.

“Good,” he grinned. “Because this would be really fuckin’ awkward if you weren’t.”

Leo laughed at that, free and easy and Jamie felt like he could fly with the way her head was thrown back and her eyes had crinkled with her bright smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, it really would.”

She looked at him for a breath, the smile still playing on her lips before she moved her eyes to the tattoo at his ribs and traced the lines of it lightly with her fingertips. She knew that this was good and right and everything she’d ever wanted for so long and she knew that it would take a while before she could truly forgive herself for everything she’d put Jamie through, but the rhythmic stroking of Jamie’s fingers against her lower back kept her grounded in this moment with him before her mind could take off running while she focused on the black lines of ink on his skin.

“I um wasn’t completely honest with you about that tattoo,” Jamie mumbled.

“What about?”

“When you asked if I’d got it for you.”

Leo shook her head gently. “I was only teasing, Jame.”

“Yeah, I know,” he acknowledged. “But it really always was for you, at least in some part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember that I told you that it represented bravery and courage?” He asked, Leo nodding in response. “Well those were things that I learned from you. You taught me what it meant to be brave, what it meant to live fearlessly and to be brave and chase my dreams. That lion is you Leo and you’ve been with me. You’ve been with me this whole time.”

Leo didn’t quite know what to say to that because while she’d always quietly and selfishly imagined that it was for her, having it confirmed by Jamie was an entirely different ball game and it was a little overwhelming but in the best possible way. She instead curled herself back into his side and rested her head against his strong chest, her arm draping heavily around him. Jamie wrapped her tight in his arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair and pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head while he breathed her in, all pineapple and coconut and Leo.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked quietly.

“You know you can.”

“What was with the avocado tonight?”

Jamie was slightly taken aback by the gentle laugh Leo let out against his chest but didn’t move from where his nose was nestled amongst the wild waves on top of her head.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Leo admitted, her lips quirking into a small smile against Jamie’s skin. “Guess I just wanted to try it to see if I still hated it.”

“And I’m guessing by the fact you left half of it on your plate-“

“Still disgusting,” Leo interjected with a laugh which Jamie matched in earnest before pressing another kiss into her hair while she went quiet again once more.

She closed her eyes and let the steady thud of Jamie’s heartbeat quiet her mind that had taken itself off to the races and was trying to work out how this would all work and where that would leave them when Jamie had to go back to Pittsburgh in a couple of days. Jamie sensed her though, so in tune with her and her body and her mind to pick up on the subtle little cues that told him she was going down the rabbit hole, so he called her back to him with a gentle whisper of her name.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I just,” she sighed quietly. “I just don’t know how this looks for us, Jame. I just got you and now it feels like I’m gonna lose you all over again. It’s different this time, you leaving and I know it’s gonna-.” She trailed off, sniffling slightly as the pain of Jamie leaving town washed over her and filled her eyes with fresh tears.

“Hey, hey”, Jamie soothed, tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to get her eyes on his. “It’s okay, babe. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? Pittsburgh isn’t far away and you can come and stay whenever you want. We’ll get through the rest of this season and then when I’m home in the summer we can work out all the details, yeah?”

Leo saw the intensity and the certainty in Jamie’s eyes and she saw the truth in them, their truth and Leo knew that whatever happened, Jamie would make sure that they were okay, so she nodded her head slowly and buried her face against the crook of his neck.

“We’re gonna be fine, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “Let’s not worry about that right now, yeah? Let’s just focus on this moment.”

He pressed a sequence of kisses to the top of her head and settled her comfortably against him, drawing little circles with his fingertips at her hips until he felt her body go heavy as she slipped into sleep.

Jamie laid there, his eyes drifting to the window where the snow was still falling heavily outside and smiled to himself despite the fact that he knew Leo was right. He didn’t know how this would look for them either and he didn’t know what the future had in store for him, he didn’t even know if he was going to be in Pittsburgh next year and God only knows where he would end up. But none of that really mattered, not really, because when he looked at Leo fast asleep in his arms, the woman who was his whole world and always had been, he knew that wherever he went, wherever his path would lead him, he would always have a home in her heart and now that he knew that he had a home in hers too, everything else was just confetti.

Love isn’t always fireworks. It’s not always loud or in your face or even a moment where you lock eyes with a stranger across the room and fall head over heels at first sight. Sometimes love is quiet. Sometimes love grows slowly like an oak tree, starting out as a tiny acorn before springing tiny shoots and leaves and while it might not look like much at first, the roots grow deep and strong and nurture the sapling until it becomes something big and beautiful. It happens so slowly over time that it can be difficult to notice it happening at all, but it grows all the same, bigger and bigger until it’s mighty and proud and impossible to ignore. The tree is strong, unmoveable, enduring and weathers whatever storm comes its way because it’s had the time and the devotion to mature into something truly remarkable. That is the kind of love that many only ever get to dream of and Jamie and Leo would be thankful every second of every day that they were lucky enough to find that in each other because even though we live in a universe of infinite possibilities, there are some things in life that just make sense and when it’s good and it’s right, it will always find a way.

[starlight-loki]

The Thin Line Between Life and Death (Loki x Mystic!Reader) -- PART 1

Or, That Time You and Loki Saved the World

Request: is it alright if you do a loki x reader fic where reader's got powers like strange and wields one of the infinity stones and almost dies trying to save everyone? -- requested by anon

Warnings: this is darker than other fics i've written so far: descriptions of nausea, mentions of anxiety, and major character deaths (but not Loki, I promise).

Word Count: 4.8k (hooo weeee man, if I didn't split this into 2 parts it would've been like... over 10k omg)

A/N: For context, please read this headcanon first if you'd like to know a bit more about the reader and Loki's relationship as well as to sort of set the scene for this fic -- otherwise, if you're cool with jumping right in, enjoy! This was so much fun to write :)

Also this doesn't follow the events of Infinity War/Endgame at all; this is sort of... my take on it, I guess you could say?

Everything started going downhill when you began getting visions.

They weren't anything concerning at first, in fact they were almost cryptic, really: manifesting themselves in your dreams in subtle -- almost metaphoric -- ways. First it was simply the colour orange, which then progressed to flashes of amber light at random occasions during the events of your dreams, then it became fire. For a while, fire consumed your dreams nearly every night, burning through cities, forests, and even planets.

The Ancient One had told you from the start that dreams carried messages from your subconscious. They weren't something to be dismissed, even the most simplest elements. They were to be respected, listened to, and were meant to encourage you to shift mentally and emotionally in indescribable ways.

You figured the fire was symbolic for the stress and worry you were feeling, with everything moving so quickly over the last few days.

After all, the threat of Thanos was looming more and more. No longer was he a whispered rumour that was occasionally passed around at dinnertime with the rest of the Avengers. He was an actual threat now, and the Avengers were holding meetings twice a day to try and develop a plan of attack.

He had the power stone. It was only a matter of time before he found the others.

Twenty-four hours before everything changed, a vision came to you differently than all the others.

You were in the kitchen preparing lunch for yourself when your ears began ringing. Whispers filled your mind from the inside and spoke to you in a language you didn't understand, yet chilled you to the bone at the same time. There was a blinding flash of light that nearly paralyzed you, and as you strained to focus your eyes, you noticed a small orange stone materialize in front of you.

The soul stone.

It glided closer and closer to you, and as it did so the whispers grew louder. The lives of thousands flashed before your eyes. Their deaths did, as well. It was showing you the cycle of humanity -- birth, life, death, repeat -- almost taunting you that this seemingly inevitable thing could be controlled.

You gasped, dropped the plate in your hands accidentally. It fell to the floor with an earsplitting crash, and as quickly as the soul stone arrived, it disappeared in a swirl of orange smoke.

Your hands were shaking as you knelt down to collect the bigger pieces of the now-shattered plate. A hand on your back made you flinch in surprise and you instinctively curled closer towards the kitchen cabinets in an attempt to protect yourself.

"It's just me." Loki's soft voice seemed foggy and distant as your brain continued to adjust from the voices and the ringing you had just heard. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head and sunk to the floor, half in defeat and half in relief that you weren't alone anymore. These visions were growing far too intense for you to handle.

You looked up at Loki, who exchanged an anxious expression with you. His green eyes searched your face, seemingly looking for an explanation of what had just happened to you.

"I saw something," you whispered, absentmindedly gripping the plate shard in your hand tighter. "Loki, I think I saw the soul stone."

His eyes widened as he knelt down beside you and gently pried the glass out of your grip, setting it down out of your reach. He replaced the broken piece in your hand with his own, and you sighed shakily as his thumb gently stroked the top of your hand.

"Did it show you anything?" He asked quietly, and you nodded quickly in response.

"I saw life, death... everything." You felt far removed from you own voice, almost like it didn't belong to you. "It's been happening in dreams too, but I've never seen the stone itself before."

You gazed at Loki, who almost seemed to disappear into his own thoughts at your mention of the visions you saw. You knew all too well about the Tesseract, and the way it had tormented Loki once before. The infinity stones were not gentle to humans, or gods for that matter.

"Do you think this has something to do with Thanos?" You asked, your voice trembling as you whispered. "Do you think maybe he managed to get the soul stone?"

Loki shook his head slowly, but it wasn't without hesitation.

"The soul stone is far away on Vormir. It's guarded heavily. I doubt-"

"Hey, you two okay?"

You glanced up quickly just as Tony stepped into the room. His eyes swept over the mess of a broken plate on the floor before landing on you and Loki, huddled together in the corner of the kitchen as if your lives depended on it.

Tony looked as exhausted as you felt. No one had really slept well in the last few days, but you couldn't imagine what it was like for Tony: he had been staying up until ungodly hours of the morning with Steve, Vision, and Rhodey, trying to formulate a plan of attack.

"Yeah," you shook your head as you tried to clear the last of the visions out of your mind. "Sorry, that was an accident. I'm just... really tired."

Tony gave a perfectly-timed yawn as he knelt down and began to pick up the broken pieces of the plate you dropped.

"I feel ya, kid."

You watched as him and Loki exchanged resigned nods of acknowledgement, and you grabbed Loki's hand before he could step forward to help Tony clean up the mess.

Should I tell him? You asked telepathically. About the soul stone?

Loki gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Not yet. His voice echoed through your mind like the whispers from the soul stone moments ago, bringing you warmth rather than fear. Until we fully understand why these visions are occurring, I believe it would be best to not burden Stark with any more details. It would only cause more problems.

You nodded in agreement as you pushed yourself up onto your feet shakily. You stepped forward to help Tony clean up the mess, only feel your head spin violently. You lurched forward, grabbing onto the counter as you tried to stop yourself from falling.

"Hey, whoa!" Tony sprang up and grabbed your shoulders just as you felt Loki's arms wrap around your waist in an effort to keep you standing. "Easy there, kid. Jesus, are you okay?"

"I feel sick." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to keep the room from spinning. Even with two people supporting your weight, you still felt as though you were going to fall over.

"Go sleep, okay?" Tony told you sternly. You made a sound of protest and tried to help him continue cleaning up. Tony shook his head in response.

"Don't worry about this, we'll clean it up." His gaze shifted over to Loki, who still held you tightly. You could feel his hands trembling ever-so-slightly, and you placed your own hand over his weakly as you attempted to silently reassure him that you'd be okay.

"Loki, make sure Y/N gets some rest."

"I will."

Loki scooped you up into his arms in one fluid motion, causing you to wince as spots danced in your vision. You buried your head against his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to hold yourself together.

Has this ever happened to you? You manage to ask Loki telepathically as he set you carefully down on your bed. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face before crawling into bed beside you.

Not to this degree, he replied. You couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips as he gently pulled you close, cradling the back of your head. The infinity stones all have variable levels of energy, but I have never dealt with the soul stone before.

Do you mean their frequencies vary depending on their roles?

Precisely.

You sighed defeatedly, troubled by the fact that -- out of all the infinity stones -- the one that boasted power over life and death itself just had to come find you.

You knew mystics seemed to have some sort of connection to the stones, seeing as Stephen knew the time stone and guarded it with his life. You had hoped, though, that if another stone were to find its way somehow to another mystic, it would be Wong, not you.

Loki nudged your chin up ever so slightly with his fingertips, encouraging you to look up at him. He gave you a warm, gentle smile as he caressed your cheek slowly.

"Rest now," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead softly. "I will stay with you, I promise."

You nodded halfheartedly in response. Every cell in your being longed for nothing more but rest, yet at the same time you were afraid to close your eyes in case the soul stone was still lurking somewhere in your mind. Waiting for you.

It felt as though you had only just closed your eyes, when the sound of thunder jolted you out of your sleep. You felt weightless as you opened your eyes slowly, taking in the purple hues of clouds above you. As you felt yourself float higher, you realized with a sickening sinking feeling that your body was still in your bed, far away from where you currently were.

Your spirit had separated from your physical body, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to be able to get back.

You glanced upward as you continued your ascent just as two towering structures came into view at the top of a cliff. The whispers that had filled your mind earlier that day resumed, and you cried out in fear, clutching your head in your hands. It only made them grow stronger.

As flashes of orange began filling your vision, your blood ran cold as you realized where you were.

Somehow, your spirit had found its way to Vormir.

Reaching the top of the cliff, you stepped carefully onto the platform just as a hooded figure glided towards you.

Never before has this stone ever summoned a soul into its presence. A chill ran up your spine as the guardian's voice echoed in your mind, crackling like ice.

Many have sought this stone, but it belongs to no one.

"So why did it bring me here?" You demanded, curling your arms around your middle in an attempt control your nerves. You were vulnerable here. You were powerless without your physical body -- incantations and even the mirror realm would be of no use to you in this state.

The soul stone seems to have taken a certain interest in you. It sees potential... for what is yet to come.

"I don't understand." Your own voice seemed to wrap around you in an endless echo. You instinctively took a step back as your head spun from sensory overload.

You walk the line between the living and the dead, mystic.

"But I'm not the only mystic. There's more out there like me, surely they experienced the same thing? I mean, there's Stephen-"

No. Your breath caught in your throat as the hooded figure raised its head to gaze at you, and your eyes met fiery blood red irises. You turned your gaze to the ground in an attempt to divert your fear and calm your racing heart.

Stephen Strange is already in possession of the time stone, the guardian explained slowly. There are no other mystics who possess the strength -- or courage -- to cross over into the land of the dead.

"But I'm not dead." You protested, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind that drew your attention back to the fact that you were currently a spirit on another planet, far away from your body. "I... I've been training in the mystic arts for a few years now. Never in my life has anything like this happened. Why now am I suddenly getting visions?"

There is another who seeks the soul stone as we speak, the guardian replied. To your relief, it kept its distance from you. He yearns to own it.

"Thanos," you whispered, feeling a cold chill run up your spine as you spoke his name.

Yes, mystic, the guardian nodded solemnly. However, there are elements of the soul stone that the Titan has not tried to understand. Just like how life and death are two sides of the same coin, so too does the soul stone have another aspect.

You gasped as the soul stone materialized in front of you, hovering level with your line of sight just like when you were in the kitchen back at the Compound. You watched as it began to spin, gradually growing faster and faster, until it split neatly into two halves.

The soul stone embodies both the physical and the spiritual, and thus each aspect is acquired through complete mastery of its respective lesson.

The guardian's words echoed in your mind as you gazed at the fragments of the soul stone curiously. The fear you had felt in connection with your earlier visions was gone now. In its place, all you felt was awe.

As one of the pieces of the soul stone began gliding closer to you, you reached out your hand in an attempt to touch it. It looked so warm, so inviting. You longed to know what it would feel like to hold a piece of ancient power in your hands.

No.

You flinched, glancing at the guarding whose voice boomed in your head. As if to reinforce his words, the shards of the soul stone vanished into thin air.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" You asked quietly. "You said there's a connection between myself and the soul stone, I don't understand."

You must earn it. It does not come willingly to anyone.

"Then I don't want it." You shook your head, taking a step back. "I don't know why any of this is happening, but I want it to stop. I want to go home."

Very well.

The guardian raised his hand, and you felt yourself being pulled backwards slowly, back the way you came.

I offer you a piece of advice, mystic, the voice in your mind echoed out louder than ever. In order to gain the physical shard of the stone, you must lose the one you love. To gain the spirit shard, you must know the path that leads you back to them.

There was a sharp tug around your middle, and you felt your heart freeze in your chest as you began plummeting down the cliff. You squeezed your eyes shut as the wind echoed like a jet plane in your ears.

Remember this, the guardian's voice was distant now. You had to strain to register the words in your mind. The spirit shard cannot be found on Vormir. The fate of the physical shard is being decided as we speak. Use this knowledge wisely, mystic.

An image flashed in your mind of a titan ascending the mountain, towards the top of the cliff upon which your spirit had just stood. You caught a glint of purple, blue, and red flash from his hand.

You gasped, bolting upright as the heavy sensation that accompanied falling back into your body ran through you. You were trembling, drenched in a cold sweat, and you yelped as two hands planted themselves firmly on your shoulders.

"Relax!" Your heart sped up in your chest as you tried to fight off whoever was holding onto you. "Y/N, relax, it's me!"

Loki came into focus in front of you, his eyes never straying from yours as you tried to catch your breath. His hands were steady, but you caught a flash of fear in his eyes as he gazed at you.

"What happened?" He whispered, pulling you into a protective and firm embrace. Your breath caught in your throat as your mind wandered back to the visions that flashed behind your eyes moments before you woke up.

"Thanos." Your voice felt far away, almost foreign to you, as you replied softly. Your trembling hands reached up to pull Loki even closer to you. You were afraid you'd lose control and end up separated from your body again. You didn't want to be alone once more.

"What?"

"Thanos." You repeated again, glancing out the window into the now-darkened sky to make sure you were no longer on Vormir. You couldn't trust yourself. "Loki, I saw him. He's got more stones. He found the Tesseract."

Loki pushed you away, only to wrap his hands firmly around your arms. The fear he had hidden so well moments ago was dancing like fire in his eyes.

"That's impossible," he said slowly, and you weren't sure if those words were for you, or if they were an attempt to convince himself. "You hid the Tesseract yourself, you took it from me and-"

"I know what I did." You snapped. You winced as Loki recoiled away from you ever-so-slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just... Look, you have to believe me Loki. Please. I was on Vormir, or at least my spirit was. The guardian of the soul stone was there, it spoke to me, I-"

"I believe you." Loki's soft whisper stopped the rambling thoughts that were pouring out of your mouth, and you nearly cried in relief at his words. His expression softened as he took in your torn, distressed expression, and he kissed your forehead softly.

"I believe you." He repeated again, pulling you close.

"We don't have much time." Your voice felt tight in your throat as you spoke. "Right before I woke up, I saw Thanos approaching Vormir. The rest of the stones are on Earth, Loki. I think he's coming here next."

"We need to tell the others."

"Will they know what to do?"

Loki's gaze burned into yours determinedly as he took your hand and helped you up off your bed.

"All we can do is hope."

The two of you raced down the hall, pounding on every door you passed as you tried to wake everyone up at once. Tired groans of protest echoed from within a few rooms, only encouraging you to knock even louder on the Avengers' doors.

"Everyone up!" You exclaimed. You couldn't ignore the way your voice and hands trembled as you made your way down the hall. "Emergency meeting, now!"

The Compound slowly came to life once more as you and Loki reached the end of the hall, and the two of you were met with numerous confused and somewhat alarmed looks.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, effortlessly keeping up with your strides as you made your way to the meeting room.

"Y/N had a vision." Loki explained, taking your hand and giving it a small squeeze in an attempt to comfort you. "Thanos is coming."

"What!?" Bruce's shocked exclamation echoed out from behind you as he jogged to keep up. "We were monitoring his whereabouts, just a few hours ago he was still light years away from Earth looking for the other five infinity stones-"

"Yeah, well, he's managed to get two more," You answered as you sat yourself down in a chair in the meeting room. Loki sat close beside you, resting his knee against yours in a silent gesture, as if to communicate he was right by your side through all of this.

"He's on Vormir as we speak," you continued as everyone took their seats around the table. "He's looking for the soul stone. That's infinity stone number four. He'll be coming for us next."

"How do you know that?" Natasha's question sounded out from the other side of the room.

"There's six stones in total, right?"

Your question earned slow nods from the Avengers sitting around you.

"I saw his glove. He's got the power stone -- as we know -- as well as the reality stone, and now the space stone too."

"The Tesseract was destroyed along with Asgard." Thor remarked, frowning as he took in your words. You looked over at Loki quickly, the two of you exchanging anxious glances, before you looked back at Thor and shook your head.

"The Tesseract was... misplaced." You answered slowly.

Everyone flinched as Thor banged his fist against the table, his gaze immediately shifting away from you as realization burned in his eyes.

"Loki!"

"I assure you brother-"

"I knew it was a bad idea bringing Rock of Ages here onto the team." Tony interrupted pointing an accusatory finger at Loki. Several other Avengers nodded in agreement.

"It wasn't his fault!" You exclaimed loudly. The room felt silent as everyone frowned at you in confusion. "It was mine. I should've destroyed it but I didn't. I just opened a portal and... threw it in."

"Do you know where it went?" Steve asked you.

"At the time, I didn't. I had no idea Thanos was out there looking for the stones at the same time. I just wanted that thing far away from us. It's caused enough trouble, and we didn't need any more."

Loki squeezed your hand and gave you a soft smile as he heard your reply.

"There are two stones left," you continued, glancing around the room worriedly as you thought about the threat of Thanos looming over your team like a dark shadow. "Stephen is guarding the time stone downtown. Assuming he's kept his guard up as usual, he'll be one step ahead of Thanos and he'll already be taking precautions to keep it out of his reach."

You paused, glancing nervously over at Vision. His eyes met yours in understanding, and he gave the slightest nod in acknowledgement.

"The other stone," you continued quietly. "Is right here in this room with us."

A strange humming sound caused a hushed silence to fall over the Compound. You frowned, straining your ears as you tried to listen.

"Does anyone else hear that-"

Tony's question was cut off by an explosion that took out the entire side wall of the Compound. The force of the blast knocked you to the ground, and your ears rang violently as you tried to orient yourself once more with your surroundings.

"This is too easy. Everyone in one room together, how... pathetic."

You glanced up to see Thanos looming over everyone, an already victorious grin on his face as he examined the aftermath of the blast he had caused.

"I would've thought you'd make it more difficult for me."

The stones on Thanos' gauntlet began to glow, and you felt an arm yank you backwards and into their grasp before a ray of purple light blasted throughout the room. You glanced behind you to find Loki, his jaw clenched as he stared in fear towards Thanos, before casting a protective spell over the two of you.

You tried to pull away, to gather up the other members of the team and bring them to safety, but Loki's grip was firm and unrelenting.

"They need help!" You exclaimed in protest. "Everyone's vulnerable, all our defense and weapons are two floors down-"

"You go over there, and you'll get killed." Loki muttered through gritted teeth. "I can't lose you. Stay here."

"But-"

"Stay here!"

Loki trembled as he tried to keep his shield up. Pressing yourself closer to him, you cast the strongest protective spell you knew and placed it overtop of his. Green and gold magic intertwined together, forming a tightly-knit dome over the two of you.

"I think I can get Bruce," you whispered, nodding towards the corner of the room. "He's not very far-"

Your idea was suddenly interrupted as Thanos raised his gauntlet, and the soul stone began to glow.

You watched in horror as every member of your team outside of your protective dome was wrapped in an orange aura, and lifted off the ground.

"No!" You yelled, stumbling forward and pushing your protective spell further outwards in an attempt to save those closest to you. A spark of energy backfired, burning your hands and causing you to stumbled back with a cry of pain.

"I can't get to them," you gasped, glancing at Loki in horror. "I can't get past the soul stone."

Thanos heard your words, and he shifted his gaze in your direction with narrowed eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, watching as Steve and Tony, among others, struggled to be released from the titan's invisible grasp.

"Those who play hero only bring more war," Thanos stated, glancing behind your shoulder at Loki and smiling coldly. "I'm putting an end to this child's play, once and for all."

"Let them go!" You yelled, reaching forward in a weak attempt to save your teammates. Your gesture only earned a piteous laugh from the titan.

"You're choosing to play a bold game, mystic." Thanos continued. "By keeping that shield of yours up, you're creating more pain. All you are doing is delaying your death."

"It'll give us more time to plot yours." Loki retorted from behind you with gritted teeth.

"Bold as ever, Asgardian." Thanos smirked. "But not strong enough. Neither of you are."

You glanced desperately over at Tony for any sort of help, but all you exchanged were helpless glances.

"There will be no more heroes," Thanos boomed, raising his gauntlet triumphantly. The soul stone began to glow once more. "No more martyrs. No more humans. Only gods."

"I believe in you, kid." Tony gasped out. "You can do this."

"I can't." You cried out, your heart racing as you glanced between your teammates and Thanos. "I don't know how."

You managed to catch a determined nod from Tony, before a loud snap reverberated through the room, knocking you and Loki backwards.

There was a gust of cold air as Thanos opened a portal with the space stone, smirking victoriously down at the two of you.

"We'll meet again, mystic."

Thanos pulled a now-unconscious Vision towards him with his gauntlet and disappeared, the portal closing as soon as it opened. You lowered your shield to run for your teammates, who were still hovering unconscious in mid-air, only to be stopped by Loki.

"Look."

You watched in horror as, one by one, each member of the Avengers dissolved into ash and vanished before your eyes. Crying out in disbelief, you lowered your protection spell and raced forward before Loki could protest.

"Tony!"

You tried to reach for his hand, to pull him out of the orange aura that held him captive. As soon as your fingers brushed his, he turned to ash immediately.

You sunk to your knees, the sudden silence that fell over the Compound feeling like a graveyard. You heard Loki run towards Thor, calling his name over and over again, before he too fell silent.

You caught his gaze from across the room, and a cold chill shook your insides as his eyes mirrored the same terror you felt inside yourself.

Unable to find the strength to stand, you crawled over to where he sat and buried your face in his shoulder. As soon as Loki's arms wrapped around you, you were unable to stop the sobs that wracked your body. You felt him trembling and realized that he, too, was crying.

"They're all gone." You whispered, your voice distorted through your tears. "Everyone's gone."

Loki didn't reply. Instead, he pulled you closer and ran his hands in small circles upon your back, almost as if he were memorizing the feel of you in his arms.

The sound of your cries echoed out through the Compound and reverberated back towards the two of you, piercing your skin like little knives. You squeezed shut your eyes, hoping that this was all a bad dream and -- when you opened your eyes again -- the Avengers would be right back in this room with you and Loki, ready to formulate a plan of attack.

When you opened your eyes, however, nothing changed.

There was only one infinity stone left.

Everyone was gone, leaving only you and Loki.

Thanos had won.

END OF PART ONE.

Taglist: @startrekkingaroundasgard @delightfulheartdream @justasmisunderstoodasloki @marvels-mischief @k8obr @pastyoverlord265 @lowkeytesss @levylovegood

Taglist for this fic only: @littleredstarfish @treblebeth @taylordani03

[breanime]

Five Senses: Sight (with Bonus Boy)

Billy Russo: You were the first thing Billy saw in his dreams overseas. No matter what horrors he had seen or committed that day, no matter how much blood was on his hands when he laid down to rest, no matter the dirt under his nails or the sweat on his skin, every night, he dreamt of you. And in his dreams, he was cleansed by you. In his dreams, Billy would see your bright eyes and that smile, that special smile you had for him and him alone, and no matter what atrocities he had seen or done, that smile would heal him. That smile, your smile, would warm him down to his bones--and that wasn’t a metaphor, it was true. Huddled in a flimsy tent with Frank and 12 other men, a freezing rain pouring down all around, nothing but a thin blanket and his fatigues to keep him covered, but Billy was warm. When he saw you, he was engulfed by your warmth, by your smile, by your love. Just the sight of you, dream or not, was enough to put Billy at easy, no matter where he was in the world. He’d memorized every part of you, and he pictured you, inch by glorious inch, when he needed your comfort. It wasn’t as good as being with you, of course, but it was a saving grace for him, and Billy was not a man who easily settled into being saved...unless his hero was you. 

Logan Delos: Logan was a man of wealth and taste. He’d been born into his riches, and he’d become desensitized to many of the incredible things he’d seen in his time. He had seen sights that would leave an ordinary men speechless, had gone places that were normally closed off to public eyes. It didn’t faze him. Indescribable sights, things people would save up all their lives to see, seen and shrugged off within seconds by Logan. But the sight of you? Damn. You could drop him to his knees. Logan had just gotten off of his private Delos jet after spending a week lounging in the most decadent suite he could find in Abu Dhabi; the view had been described as “breathtaking”, but Logan hadn’t found himself having any difficult breathing as he looked out at the expansive city, drowned in orange by the sunset. But now, as Logan walked into your shared penthouse, he was breathless. You were laid out on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, and you were fast asleep. It wasn’t an elegant sleep; you weren’t Scarlett O’Hara draped over a satin lounge chair, you were you, knocked out in the middle of the afternoon wearing one of his shirts. And you were, without a doubt, without exaggeration, the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Wordlessly, because he was speechless, Logan sat on the edge of the couch and reached out to you. Looking at you, your mouth slightly open, wearing his shirt, you arm splayed across your forehead, Logan felt himself melt. Truly, you were the most striking sight he had ever seen.

Jax Teller: Seeing Jax dressed all in orange, chains around his ankles, two armed guards on either side of him, should have made you sad. It should have made you realize that, as much as you loved Jax, he was a criminal, and moments like this were bound to happen again and again if you stayed with him. You should leave--now, while you still could. But when he sat across from you, and you looked into those blue eyes of his... You knew that you weren’t going anywhere. “Talked to my Mom earlier,” he said, settling into his seat, “she said my bail should be posted in a few days, and then I’ll be home... I’m sorry, darling, I know this isn’t what you signed up for--” “How much more does Gemma need for bail?” You asked, watching as his eyes widened. “Babe, you don’t have to--” “I’m gonna be your Old Lady some day,” you answered back, “I need to learn how to do this.” You watched as his smile spread, his eyes wrinkling. “You’re gonna be my Old Lady, huh?” He said back. You leaned forward, making sure he was looking right into your eyes. You could see a warmth in them when he looked at you, an affection there that was for you, and you only. “I love you, Jax, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you. But in order to do that, we need to get you out of this place. So come on, tell me how much she needs to make your bail.” He chuckled, and leaned in as well, “You don’t realize how much I needed to see you...to hear you say that,” he reached out for your hand, and you looked down and smiled at the sight of his hand in yours, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.” 

Coco Cruz: The doctor said his eyes would heal, but it would be a while. And though he was a sniper, Coco wasn’t a patient man. You sat on the bed, watching him pace around in circles in your shared bedroom. “Coco,” you sighed. “What if my eyes never get better?” He asked, stopping and turning to you, the white patch over his injured eye wrinkled as he frowned. “Coco...” “What if I can never ride again? Or use a fucking gun? How am I gonna work?” “Coco...” He fell to his knees in front of the bed, and you reached out and caressed his face. His dark brown eye was watery with emotion, and you heart clenched at the pain you could see there. “What if I can’t see our baby?” He asked, his hand going to rest on your growing stomach. You felt tears spring to your eyes, but you held them back. “You will. Okay? The doctor said it can be treated, and it’ll take rehab and time, but you will see again. I promise you.” Coco nodded, leaning into you for a hug. You closed your eyes, wishing you could give him the gift of sight, wishing you could will him to heal faster. But you couldn’t. All you could do--all either of you could do--was wait. And wait you did. And the day your baby girl was born, the first thing she saw was Coco, his eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his newborn child. It had taken a lot of work, cost him so much time and pain, but it was all worth it when he could hold his baby girl in his arms and look into her eyes, his vision fully restored. It was worth the wait. 

Angel Reyes: You and Angel had made your New Year’s resolutions together, and working out more had been at the top of the list. You’d both agreed that the two of you should exercise more, and it made sense to do it together and motivate one another, but now that you were here... You could see that it was a mistake. Watching a shirtless, sweaty Angel lift weights, his low grunts filling the air, was beyond distracting. It was erotic. He grinned at you, a dumbbells slung behind his gleaming shoulders. You wanted to lick the beads of sweat trailing down his tattoos. “You good, baby?” He teased, an eyebrow raised at you. You swallowed, your eyes unable to look away from the perfection that was Angel Reyes. “I--good. Yup. Good,” you said, watching the bulge in Angel’s shorts as he squatted down. “Mm, very well constructed sentence there,” he said, straightening up and placing the dumbbell on the rack. You stared at his ass as he turned around, and you felt your skin flush with the heat of desire. It should be illegal for one man to look so good. After all, this was a public place and here Angel was just being a fucking piece of art. “Babe, stop staring, you’re gonna make me blush,” he teased you, “Shh,” you dug into your pocket and pulled out your phone, “Don’t mind me. Keep working.” “Are you taking pictures of me?” “Maybe,” you answered, biting your lip as you snapped another picture, “Keep working out, this is good inspiration.” He laughed, doing as you said. By the end of your session, Angel had worked up quite a sweat, and you had amassed an impressive amount of sexy photos of your man. All in all, it was a good workout. 

Miguel Galindo: There was nothing like the sight of Miguel in cartel mode. Every step, every glance, every twitch of his eyebrow turned you on. He stood behind his desk, both hands spread out over the papers and files that covered it, glaring at the men in the room. He was the very picture of power. You stood off to the die, summoned there to be a witness, your eyes fixated on your man. You watched the words spill from his mouth, you watched the men--powerful in their own right--visibly shrink as Miguel spoke. The topic of conversation wasn’t important to you; Miguel had all of your attention. You stared openly, your eyes going from his sinful mouth down to his large hands, watching them flex as he gestured over at the men. His eyes were hard, eyebrows furrowed as he showed his displeasure with his employees. Distantly, you heard their apologizes and his acceptance of them, but really, all you could do was drink in the sight that was your husband. He was in his element, as much as Miguel wanted to go legit, and as well suited to that world he was, he was a cartel man. It was in his blood. And it came naturally to him. You watched as he lifted his hand and pointed to the door; you could see the men scurry out from the corner of your eye, but your focus was on Miguel. He turned to you, a smirk growing on his kissable lips. “I can see what you’re thinking, mi amor,” he purred, “Why don’t you come over here and let me give you what you want?”

Nick Amaro: As soon as Nick saw you, he grabbed you. He held you tight, his eyes closing, visions of you hurt and afraid playing behind his eyelids. “I’m alright, Nick,” you assured him, whispering into the crook of his neck, “I’m alright...” He nodded, finally pulling back to have a look at you. There was blood on your face, and he reached out to wipe it, leaving a soft red smear on your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again,” he huffed, his eyes boring into yours, “Never, okay?” “Nick,” you said carefully, running a hand through his hair, “you know I can’t promise that,” you watched his jaw clench, “if I’m the only thing between a perp and a victim, I’m going to stand in front f the victim, every time.” He closed his eyes again, trying not to see the truth in yours. “Nick,” you repeated his name until he opened his eyes again, “I’m fine. You had my back. Liv had my back. I’m safe, and so it that little girl.” You turned, taking his hand in yours. “Look,” you directed him gently. A few feet away, the little girl who’d been kidnapped was in the arms of her sobbing mother, safe and sound. The man who’d taken here was in the back of a bus, bleeding from the gunshot you’d given him. “We did that,” you told Nick, looking up at him, “Look at that girl. She’s the reason we do what we do. She’s the reason I can’t promise I won’t ever do this again.” He nodded, turning back to you and taking you in his arms. “I know,” he said, kissing your forehead, “Just... Next time, don’t leave my line of sight, okay? Can you at least do that?” You smiled, “I can do that.” 

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny looked like a god, Apollo in the flesh. He was bathed in light, the rays of the sun shining on his brown skin, his smile wide and warm. You stood on the beach, Jakes on one side of you, Charlie on the other, and you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were staring at Johnny. And really--who could blame you? He, Mike, and Briggs had just come to shore after catching a few waves, and Johnny was looking like a freaking dream. “Damn girl, stop drooling,” Briggs joked as he walked past you, taking Charlie’s hand and leading her away. Mike and Jakes laughed, following suit, and you watched, not at all concerned with the others, as Johnny approached you. “Wanna take a dip?” He asked. You shook your head, your hands immediately going to his chest, “Why are you like this?” “Like what?” “Like... this!” You stepped back, gesturing to his everything. “Look at you! You’re freaking glowing, you got the abs all out... Keep playing, and I’m gonna put a baby in you.” Johnny laughed, and the sight of him, skin glistening in the sunlight, water pooling in the deep crevices of his collarbones, had you clenching with desire. He leaned in close, his mouth right on the shell of your ear. “Since you like watching me so much, how ‘bout we go home, and we can go the bathroom, and you can watch me break you off in the reflection of the mirror, yeah?” You grabbed his hand, nearly running back to Graceland, eager to see what he had in store for you. 

Rio: You blinked, trying to test to see if you were dreaming. “R-Rio...” You gasped out. He stood in front of you, dressed in all black, a smirk on his lips. “Hey mama.” You jumped out of bed, but stopped yourself from running to him. He was dead. Rhea said he was dead. There hadn’t been a funeral, but she said he was dead and now... “I know,” he said, anticipating your thoughts, “I know. But, just look at me. Look at me. I’m here.” You looked at him; he had a beard now, and a nose ring, but it was him. He was real. He was here. “What...?” “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything,” he answered your unasked question, “really, I shouldn’t even be here, but... I had to see you, baby. I had to see you.” You rushed towards him, burying your face in his chest as he held you. It had been months since you’d seen Rio, but it felt like a lifetime. You hadn’t really registered, until this moment, how much you had missed seeing him: his soft lips, his shorn hair and low lidded eyes. He was speaking to you, whispering that he was home now, and you pulled back to look at him. He looked different, harder, and you could see a change in him. “What happened to you?” You asked, your voice coming out in a whisper. “Remember the housewife?” “With the big boobs?” He chuckled, shaking his head at you fondly. “Yeah. She put three slugs in me,” he explained, and you looked him over, imagining the bullet wounds that you knew were under those dark clothes. “I’m good, mama. But I’m pissed,” he leaned down and kissed you, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved against yours, “so you and me are gonna get justice.” 

Bonus Boy

Chris Zapata: Baseball had never been your favorite sport. You’d found it boring and tedious. And then you started dating Chris and suddenly, you were standing up in the stands every week, screaming and cheering as he played. You sighed dreamily, your chin in your hand as you watched Zap on the field. He wasn’t really do much of anything--actually, he (and Maz, and Barone, and Vinny) were all watching Murray throw a fit in the outfield. But God, did Chris look good. It was getting late, and the sun was setting, and it seemed like the very last rays of the day were clinging to Chris’ skin, placing a halo around him. You could see from your spot in the stands the sweat glistening on his skin, could see his eyes widen as Murray threw his bat at the score board, and you sighed again. You couldn’t even be sure if the team was winning or not (Murray’s tantrum suggested they were not), all you knew was that Chris looked like an angel. Your heart stopped in your chest when Chris’ eyes met yours, and you watched a smirk grow on his lips. He knew you were watching him. He knew you couldn’t look away. The sight of him like this--in his element--made you weak. You couldn’t wait for the game to be over so you could inspect your man at a much closer angle. 

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[hushedhands]

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew��“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”